The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1900-03-22
The Story Of Ida
= She Was Only Model, but She
Was Good and Pure.
= :N:A.r,sAaAxA

- " . . - . - - - - W y " ~ -
1t was showing. The cold wind drove
the large flakes into the faces of Il small
group of men who were clustered around
the open grave in the bleak and drcary
cemetery. The priest read the last pray
err the simple coffin was lowered, the
frozen Jumps of earth fell with heavy
thud upon the boards. A few of the
m"lrners had walked away, looking crit
irally ut q new, costly tombstone. Others
passed slowly toward the entrance. Only
Ban, the famousc painter had remained
standing near the grave. His eyes were
fixed. as if he wanted to penetrate the
slowly rising mound that hid forever the
coffin and the corpse. He was sobbins
convulSivcly. The gravediggers had fin.
iShed their work, the shadows of tho
evening descended, and Ban still stood
there. A young sculptor. his intimate
friend, approached him and. slipping his
arm around the painter, gently led him to
II waiting carriagc. They were driven
through Il deserted street. Both were
silent.
The presence OF his friend seemed to
sootllc Ban. lie was weeping, but his
sohs had ceased. My poor Ida he
finally said "She was only model, but
she was good, pure and beautiful, like MI
ANGEL And he looked inquiringly at his
friend, anxiously awaiting an affirmation
of his sentiments.
''I.idn was an angel" responded the
sculptor feciinsly. Ban sought the hand
of his friend and pressed it teuderly.
This is the story Of Ida: There was
time when misfortune came to Ban, when
he was as miserable and as wretched us
only m artist knows how TO be. His
paintings had been rejected by every
committee, the critics jeercd and sncercd
at him, and he himself had begun to
doubt his abilities Despair had paralyz-
ed the " ings of his genius He censcd to
work, lost interest in everything. neglect
ed his personal appearance and was fast
becoming Il misanthrope. His friends
abandoned him. Often he went without
food. Ills landlord demanded the rent
for his studio and threatened him with
eviction.
One day during this period Ida, the
ever jolly Ida, entered his studio. Sine
noticed the dirt and dust that filled the
loom, and with mirthful laugh she ran
out Soon she leappcared armed with n
broom and a duster. lIumming song,
she piled her broom vigorously, and soon
the floor was clean. Then she began to
dust the pictures. This done she gather
cd up the sketches scattered all over the
room. "Dundcrhead." she exclaimed.
.llcrc are piles Of good, valuable things
which could be sold for good sum Of
money, and you, you haven't got any
thing to ent- shame"
She ri .Scd up n few Of the sketches,
and, not needing Bans questions, she ran
off to the art dealcr's shop, and on her
way home she went a-park.t;nv. She
hollg ht food and tobacco, made tea. lit
cigarette and blew the smok. into Bans
face,
"What are you staying here for now?
Why don't you leave me?" asked the
painter.
'Why, YOU fool, to keep you from
stnrvins.' All the artists knew Ida.
me acndemcans were as fond of her NJ
'ho youngest student. Still none knew
Wh'ft Slc came from. Her home must
nave been very far in the province, for
sue was "hpr"lehd'hH, simple, always
!m"frF an! often wocfuIiy lacking In po-
i''"n'SS' All they knew was that one day
shc hod come |" care frcquented by the
hitlslS with small basket OF flowers in
hrt ha'o"' on'r'hg hef wares with be-
"'tch''S sh'l!e' ehc spoke pleasantly to
every one ohe or Two OF them were a
niue forward ana received tongue lash
inE 'of 'ht'f pans lIer hgure was tall
IN" slender ah' hef lace OF an uncommon