Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1897-08-07


feet In her voice. She did not know until
long afterward that fhenhandsome painters
nervousness on that occasion had attracted
even the sympathy of Some Of those who
were near him. For she herself had been
calm and collected. j
No one else knew how crushing was the
blow which shattered her hopes and made
her three years Of labor and privatfon
useless struggle. Yet, though no longer
pupil, she could still teach; her master had
found her small patronage that saved her
from restitution. That night she circled
up quite cheerfully in her usual swallow
Hight to her nest under the caves, and even
twittered on the landing a little over the
condolences of the concierge, who knew
my God! what a beast the director of the
Conservatoire was, and how he could be
bribed-but when at last her brown head
sank on her pillow she cried-just little
But what was all this to that next morn
ing. the glorious spring morning which
bathed all the roofs of Paris with warmth
and hope, reminding enthusiasm and ambi-
ton in the breast of youth, and gliding
even much of the sordid dirt below. 1t
seemed quite natural that she should meet
Maj. Ostrander not many yards away as
she sailed out. In that bright spring sun
shine and the hopeful spring of their youth
they even laughed at the previous days
disappointment All! what claque it was;
after ALL For himself, he, Ostrander. would
much rather see that satin-faced Partisan
girl who got the prize Sinking at the crit
les from the boards of the Grand Opera
toire settled things for Paris; but Paris
wasn't the world! America would come to
the fore yet in art of all kinds; there was
a free academy there now; there should be
Paris schooling and Paris experience
weren't to be despised in art, but. thank
heaven, she had that, and no directors
could take it from her! This and mucn
denly found that they were both free for
that day. Why should they not take ad-
vantage of that rare weather and rarer
opportunity to make little suburban ex-
cursion? But where? There was the Bots;
but that was still Paris. Fontainebleau?
Too far; there were always artists sketch
ing in the forest and he would like for that
day to sink the shop" Versailles? All,
yes! Versailles!
Thither they went. 1t was not new to
either of them; Ostrander knew it as an ar
fist and as an American reader Of that
French historic romance-a reader who
hurried over the sham intriGues of the
Dell de Boeuf. the sham pastorals of the
Petit Trianon, and the sham heroics of a
shifty court to get to Lafayette. Helen
knew it as a child VINO has lodged these
lessons from her patriotic father, but had
enjoyed the woods, the park, the terraces
and particularly the restaurant at the park
gates. That day they took it like boy
and girl-with the amused, omniscient toll
erance of youth for past so inferior to
the present. Ostrander thought this gray
eyed, Independent American-French girl
far superior to the obSequiouS files d hon
neur whose brocades had rustled through
those quinquonCeS, and Helen vaguely re-
allied the truth of her fellow pupils mis-
chievous criticism of her companion that
day at the Louvre. Surely there was no
classical statue here comparable to the
ore-armed soldier painter. All this was as
yet free from either sentiment or passion,
and was only the frank pride of friendship.
But oddly enough their mere presence and
companionship seemed to excite in others
ha6 not Uat fol hpr
selves. Family groups watched the hand
sore pair in their innocent condolences,
and with French exuberant recognition OF
sentiment thought them the incarnation
of love! Something in their manifest equal
ity of condition kept even the vainest and
most susceptible of spectators from at
tempted rivalry or cynical interruption.
And when at last they dropped side by side
on sun-warmed stone bench on the ter
race, and Helen. inclining her brown head
toward her companion, Informed him of the
difficulty she had experienced in getting
gumbo soup, rice and chicken, corn cakes,
or any of her fayorite home dishes IN
Paris, an exhausted but gallant boulevar-
der rose from contiguous bench and,
politely lifting his hat to the handsome
couple, turned slowly away from those
tender condolences he would not permit
himself to hear
But the shadow Hof the trees began to
lengthen, casting broad bars across the
allie, and the sun sank lower to the level of
looking around alfews, moments later to
discover that the gardens were quite de-
serted, and ostranderL on consulting his
watch, found that they had lust lost
train which the other pleasure seekers had
evidently awaited thems elves of. No mat
ter, there was another train an hour later
They could still linger for few moments
in the brief sunset, and then dine a the
IL cal restaurant before they left. They
both laughed at their forgetfulness and
then, without knowing why, suddenly lapsed
into silence. A faint wind blew in their
faces and thrilled the thin leaves above
their heads. Nothing else moved The
long windows of the palace in that sunset
light seemed to glisten again with the in
cendiary fires OF the revolution. and then
went cut blankly and abruptly The two
CT mpaniors felt that they possessed the
terrace and all its memories as completeIy
as the shadows who had lived and died
there.
II am so glad we have had this day to-
gether," said the painter, with a very con
scious breaking of the silence, for 1 am
leaving Paris tomorrow
Helen raised her eyes quickly to his.
For a few days only" he continued
My Russian cIstomers-perhaps 1 ought
70 say my patrons-have given me COM
mission to make study of old chateau
which the princess lately bought"
A swift recollection of her fellow pupil's
raillery regarding the princess possible at
titude toward the painter came over her
and gave strange artificiality to her re-
Spouse.
Il suppose you will enjoy 1t very much"
she said, dryly.
NO" he returned with the frankness
that she had lacked. I'D much rather stay
In Paris, but" he added with a faint
smile. It's question of money, and that
Is not to be despised. Yet, II somehow
feel that l am deserving you. leaving You
here all alone in Paris"
I've been alone here for five years" she
said with bitterness she had never felt
Before. land I suppose I'm accustomed to
Nevertheless she leaned a little forward
with her fawn-colored lashes dropped over
her eyes, which were bent upon the ground
and the point of the parasoi she was hold
ing with her little gloved hands between
her knees. He wondered why she did NOT
look up; he did not know that It was mart.
~ because there were tears in her eyes
and partly for another reason As She had
leaned forward his arm had quite uncnn-
sciously moved along the back of the bench
where her shoulders had rested and she
could not have resumed her posiTjon ex-
cept In his half embrace
he had not thought of it. He was Iost
IN greater abstraction. That mimic
tenderness. far above woman's fhe ton
oerness of strength and manliness toward
weakness and delicacy, the tenderness that