Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1897-10-15

the princes who had commanded por-
traits of her had received nothing but
distorted parodies Of her face, to the
end that they might be disguised, and,
abandoning the alliance they had pro-
jected, leave her still at Strelsau to be
painted times out of number and most
fruitlessly by this mad painter And,
these thoughts gaining the mastery over
the others, in spite of the sad plight Of
unhappy Signor Giraldo, her lips curved
into bow, her eyes cleaned in dancing
merriment, and a moment later she
broke into a glad, gleeful laugh, that
rose and rippled and fell to soft, delight
ed murmurings And she looked again
at the picture that was like her and al
so like a devil, and her mirth grew and
grew at the ingenuity of the work and
the mocking deviltry so cunningly
made out of her face. Small wonder
was it to her now that the embassies
had not come.
The Princess Osra thus stood laugh
ing, and presently Signor Giraldo look
ed up, and when he had listened and
looked for few moments his wild
mood caught the infection from her, so
that, springing to his feet, he also be-
gan to laugh loudly, like man who
cannot restrain his amusement, but is
carried away by it beyond all bounds
and restraint. Thus Giraldo laughed
loudly, long and fiercely, for there was
madness in his laugh. And the princess
heard the madness, and even while she
still laughed her eyes opened in Won
der; alarm came on her face her merry
laugh quivered, trembled. choked in
her throat, and at last died away into
dumbness, yet her lips hung apart,
frozen in the shape of laughter while
no laughter came. And as her laugh
thus ended in mute horror his grew
louder yet and wilder, and its peal rang
through the room as he gasped between
his spasms of horrid mirth, "You, you,
you!" and pointed at the picture which
he had touched into devilishness. But
she shrank away and stood crouched
against the wall, for she knew now that
he was mad, but did not know to what
his fury might next lead him. Then he
caught up a knife that lay on the sill
VI lIC W lhuOMg anu INV SllAllIk
though in grim, quiet amusement,
strobe across to the row of pictures and
reached up to them, knife i'll hand.
But Osra suddenly sprang forward,
crying, "Do not hurt them"
"These?" he asked, turning to her,
with a sneer. "These? I'll destroy them
all, for they are no longer beautiful to
me, but that one only is beautiful, be-
cause it is true" And he wrenched his
arm away from the OBTAINING hand that
she had laid upon it. Failing back in
terror, she watched him cutting and
slashing each of the pictures until the
face was utterly destroyed. And she
feared that when he had finished with
the pictures he would turn upon her.
Therefore she flung herself on the couch,
hiding her face for fear of some horri-
self, mot my face, o God, not my
FACET And she pressed her face down
into the cushions of the couch, while
he, muttering and grumbling to him
self, cut the pictures into strips and rib
bons and strewed the fragments at his
feet ON the floor. And, this done, he
turned to the face that he now loved
and poured ont to it, as though it had
been an idol he worshiped, food of
wild, passionate, reproachful words that
Osra shivered to hear, and the purport
of which she dared tell none, though
for all her prayers she could not herself
forget one of them.
At last he came to her again and
plucked her roughly and rudely from
the couch where she lay and dragged
her behind him back to the door again
and through it, and they stood together
in front of the last picture, whose paint
was still wet from his hand. The paint
ed face smiled down ON the trembling,
pale girl, with its smile of careless, Sc
rene dignity, so that now even to her
self it seemed hardly to be her picture,
for it was the true presentment of a
kings daughter, and she no better than
helpless, frightened girl. 1t seemed to
reproach her, and suddenly she drew
herself to her full height and turned to
Giraldo, saying, "You shall not touch
it." And she stepped forward so that
she stood between him and the picture,
raising her hand and forbidding him to
approach it with his knife. And now
the picture seemed more to be hers, al
though where it smiled she frowned.
But at this moment there came
through the window that opened on the
street the clatter of horses hoofs. At
the sound Giraldo arrested the motion
that he had already made to fling him
self at the princess, whether to kill her
or only to thrust her away from the
front Of the picture she did not know,
Running to the window, he looked out
and called in seeming glee, "It is the
king come to see my pictures!" And he
looked proud and happy. Going to the
door of the room, he flung it open and
stood there waiting for the king and
the gentlemen who attended the king.
They were not long in coming, for Ru-
dolf was full of anger, impotence and
anxiety, and ran swiftly up the stair
Case. His gentlemen pressed into the
room behind him, and Giraldo drew
back, keeping his face to the king and
bowling again and again. But the king
and the rest saw the knife in his hand,
and ragged strips of painted canvas
hung here and there on his clothes
while the princess, pale and proud,
stood guarding the picture on the easel.
The king, in spite of his wonder, was
not turned from the purpose which had
brought him to the painters house, but
| with quick step darted up to GiraldC