The Press., 1898-12-01
THE APPLE TREE.

One evening l noticed by Moussia s photograph, which alw avs stood covered with a white craFe veil on a small ta- ble. three red checked apples. These plebeian fruits seemed out of place in the aYistocratic Parisian drawing room. crowded with rare knickknacks and works of art. Moussia's mother, observ- ing my questioning glance, said, point ing to a picture at the end of the room, "These fruits were picked on the apple tree which you see in this picture, the last one painted by Moussia. Then the sorrowing woman told me the story of the apple tree so intimately connected with that of the young artist, Marie Bashkirtseff, who died when only 24 years old.
 In the spring of IsS- Moussia was planning to paint & peasant woman in the open country for the salon Of the following year. She spent days looking in the outskirts of Paris for a suitable landscape in which to place her model One morning she found near Sevres a field inclosed by fence palings, beyond which a walk overgrown with grass lost itself under willows. through whose
 
 Half way up the walk, on a background ot grayish green bushes, with all outline almost as soft as that of smoke, stood a robust apple tree, broadly spreading its f1owery brand hes. The whole scene was filled with tender, fresh, stirring har- mony, with spring itself. Moussia was moved. She felt that this was the lCck- ed for spot Opening he gate, she walk ed toward the house. which was sepa- rated from the orchard by a garden fill ed with beehives. The proprietor lap pened to be one of those half bourgeois half peasant hOrticultrrists who provide the Parisian markets with flowers and fruits The request made by the enthu- siastjc looking young girl with the ex. pressive blue eyes fattCred him. He loved his trees, and the admiration of a painter for them pleased him extremely. Moussia was readily given permission to wo1k in tie inclCsur and she began the very next day.
 Early in the morning she arrived on the tramway, with her model, who carried their lUnt h in basket. Nous sia understood her art. She was nc longer a beginner, for some of her pic lures had already been much talked O! at the salCn. 1htIch EelCncing to q rich family, which occuI jed d high po- sition among the aristocrucy of hel country, she worked not as an anna. teur, Eut as an artist auXlous to win tame. Her W crk showed the melant holy fire and poetry which belong to those born in Little Russia. The sketch of her painting absorbed her entirely. She was trying to put Cn the canvas some of the effervescent spring about her. She painted rapidly, as if afraid not to be able to finish the task she had under taken. Every morning she came back, in spite of the April showers and the rawness of the air, which often made her cough. The owners of the place ad- mired her pluck, and as they saw her painting, bareheaded, standing in the dew, with blouse over her gray dress, they believed her to belong to their sta tion in life and thought she was work ing for her daily bread.
 The housewife brought her warm milk, the children played near her while she rested, and the horticulturist, learning that some young trees interfer- ed with the perspective, had not hesi- tated to cut them down. It was touch ing to see this man, usually so careful of his possessions, willingly sacrifice them to gratify the wish of the young artist. By degrees a touching intimacy began between them. At noon Moussia was often invited to share the cabbage soup and bacon.
 The picture was growing. The peas ant seated at the foot of the apple tree looked most lifelike. Only few finish ing touches were needed. Gathered around the easel, the family agreed that the apple tree was beautiful, for it seemed as if by stretching out one's hand the pretty. fresh. pink and white blossoms could Le plucked. One evening Moussia carried her picture away to show 1t to some friends, promising to return with It m order to finish certain detCils ill the landscape. They waited for her in vain One by one the blossoms OH the tree were carried away by the breeze. At the end of ftrtri1bt a