The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1900-04-13
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The Story Of Lida
3 She Was Only 81 Model, but She
Was Good and Pure.
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1t was showing. The cold wind drove
the large flakes into the faces Of small
group of men who were clustered around
the open grave in the bleak and drcary
cemetery. The priest read the last pray
er, the simple coffin was lowered, the
frozen Jumps of earth fell with heavy
thud upon the boards. a few of the
mourners had walked away, looking crit
ically at a new, costly tombstone. Others
passed slowly toward the entrance. Only
Ban, the famouse 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 sobbing
convulsively. The gravediggers had fin
ished their work, the shadows of the
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
q waiting carriage. They were driven
through deserted street. Both were
silent.
The presence of his friend seemed to
soothe Ban. He was weeping. but his
sobs had ceased. My poor Ida" he
finally said. "She was only 4 model. but
she was good, pure and beautiful, like an
angel" And he looked inQuiringly at his
friend, anyiously awaiting an affirmation
of his sentiments.
"Lida was an angel" responded the
sculptor fcciingiy. Ban sought the hand
of his friend and pressed 1t tcnderly.
This is the story of Ida: There was 8
time when misfortune came to Ban, when
he was as miserable and as wretchcd as
only an artist knows how to be. His
paintings had been rejected by every
committee, the critics jeered and sneered
at him, and he himself had begun to
doubt his abilities. Despair had paralyz-
ed the wings of his genius. He ceased to
work, lost interest il everything. neglect
ed his personal appearance and was fast
becoming Il Tlisanthrope. His friends
abandoned him. Often he went without
food His landlord demanded the rent
for his studio and threatened him with
eviction.
Oneaday during this period Ida, the
ever jolly Ida, entered his studio. She
noticed the dirt and dust that filled the
room, and with mirthful laugh she ran
out. Soon she reappeared armed with a
broom and a buster. Humming 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. "Dundcrhcad" she exclaimed.
Here are piles of good, valuable things
which could he sold for a good sum Of
money, and you, you haven't got any
thing to eat-shame"
She picked up Il few Of the sketches,
and, not needing Bans questions. she ran
off to the art dealers shop, and on her
way home she went a-marketing. She
bought food and tobacco, made tea, lit a
cigarette and blew the smoke 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
starving All the artists knew Ida.
The academ;ci:tns were as fond of her as
the youngest student. Still none knew
where she came from. Her home must
have been very far in the province, for
she was unprctending, simple, always
merry ana often woefully lacking in po-
likeness. All they knew was that one day
she had come to Il cafe frcqucnted by the
artists with small basket of flowers in
witching smile. She spoke pleasantly to
every one. One or two Of them were Il
little forward and received tongue lash
ing for their pains. Her figure was tall
and slender and her face of an uncommon
beauty. She became quickly 4 general
favorite with the artists. They couxed
her to become model, and soon she was
MS much part of studio life as the brush
and the palette. Ida remained with
Ban.
"Why don't you paint?" she asked Of
him.
what am / to paint? do not know"
The model unfastencd the mass Of her
wavy brown hair, picked up a tambour-
inc, whrled around in the studio and
finally planted herself in front Of the
painter. He had never before seen So
much beauty and natural grace. Hes
pose was perfect, and Ban painted his
best picture. THE Girl With the Tam
BOURNE" The jury awarded the gold
medal to this painting and Bans reputa-
tion was made. His unexpected success
banished his doubts and fearg, aal sum
shine and happiness entered into his
heart.
1t was a strange life the painter and
the model led Ida knew how to sew q
button to Bans coat. and her housekeep-
ing consisted in running over to the gro
GERS every evening and in using old
Newspapers for 4. taliccioth. She was al
most invariably In a joking mood. sls
could tell thousands of droll little stories,
and they would romp and play like q
pair of children. But when they quarrel
ed, as they did once in awhile, she could
Ht-i ,,fn 4A, Ia no
Ban was jealous. Whenever the clinking
Of sword was heard outside on tic
pavement Ida would rush to the Win
dow, gaze down admiriusly at the figure
of the soldier and say teasinglS, II loF4
soldiers-nearly Us much as l love YOU"
One day rich collector visited Bans
studio. They were eating lunch. The
painter got up hurriedly and put on his
coat in haste. Ida, as was her wont.
sat on the table and was just then peel
Ing an apple for herself. Unabashed by
the presence of the stranger, she pro-
ceeded calmly to throw the Feelings In
Bans face. The artist was confused.
He fumblcd among his sketches and fur
lively whispered to the girl: BE nice and
do behave. He is an important man."
Ida knew how to be nice and how to
behave. She cut off q piece from her
apple, put it on rag and presented IL
with her most deferential bow to the
great man. The old gentleman left the
studio in undignified haste. On another
day an old lady stepped into the studio
q white haired old lady who wore wild
owls weeds and whose face had q severe
expression. She opened her eyes wide in
Amusement when she beheld the topsy
turvy appearance of the. place. Then,
noticing Ida, she turned to her haughti-
ly:
at seems that have made a mistake
and come to the wrong place. am look
ing for Mr.. Ban, the painter, the artist"
ban is not in. lie may come home in
the evening"
"Then Mr.. Ban does live here? And
you, what are you doing here"
Instinctiycly Ida recognized an enemy
in the lady, whose eyes had assumed a
look of anger and reproach. Defantly
she raised her head and proudly answer
ed. II am at home here"
do you live here?" asked the lady
with indignation. "Are you the wife of
Mr. BanT'
Ida felt deeply hurt at the tone in
which these words were spoken. Il am
more than his Riies.I am his model his