The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1900-09-13

| 30 to AmCriCn IN order 10 extract a Tor
tune from the new world
hut pletro was beginning To learn
/ that fortunes are slow I'm coming. even
/ in young. thriving provinces. and his
art was more than the art OF chisclcd
marbles or Of plaster casts. IUs love
was his ambition lie placed IL abpyc
his art, above his duty, aborc life itself.
And the object had only grown TO mock
him for his devotion.
Often as he sauntered along the city
streets, absorbed in thoughts of her. lie
would stop with n startled look ana
search the face of some passcrby that
femindcd him vividly Of his Boatrlcia.
He saw her often in this way, for her
image was really never absent from
his minds eye. In his rcveries Of her
she used TO appear TO him, and, as IN
the old days, she would wind her
soft. gentle arms around his neck and
whisper Beloved Pietro, thou art u
god"
For n year now he had not heard
from her "Shc must be dead" he
thought at times. "If she wore alive
she could not feel the power of my
love, though an ocean lies between us"
But, like all lovers, he was selfish and
sensitive, and he had sworn on his
honor never to write to her again, and
he could picture her often making love
to Marcello and Valentino ana others
in the vineyards, as she had made love
to him.
A second summer of silence came,
and Pletro wandered out into the coun-
try and walked among the wood forms,
crushing them to his breast with his
passionate love Of beauty. He would
go and spend days under the sky, beg
glng for food as he went. He could
not work. lie was stepped, saturated,
overcome by the accumulated longing
within him. The army of laughing
fairies and Dominican monks stood on
their shelves, a neglected array, un-
busted and unsold.
The citizens of little italy" forgot
his very existence. When he did not
appear, they concluded that he had re-
turned to Italy for time, and they
did not even care to inquire One day
n little, old woman in shabby black,
with n coarse veil tied around her head
so that her face was wholly concealed,
came to Little Italy" and inquired
for Pietro. She could speak no Eng
llsh, and she seemed greatly agitated.
| The women We're consumed with
curiosity, and led her willingly to
Pietro's little workshop. Her terror
wns pitlable when she found that he
had gone and had not been seen for
month. She called on all the saints
in the calendar to help her, and then
on death to relieve her, and she flung
herself on Pietro's own couch and
moaned for hours She barred the
door and covered the window SO that
the curious ones could not watch her
from without, and she herself only
emerged when she wanted to buy food.
1t was some days after this occur
renee that Pietro, walking in the coun-
try. saw vision of his Beatricia
stretching out herr arms to him and
crying out to him in n sad, distressed
way The vision was so distinct that
for moment he thought It was real.
"She is dying" he cried to the sky,
''and she Is sorry and would ask my
I forgiveness, and | cannot 20 TO her.
o God of the poor, cannot go"
1t made such a powerful impression
upon his mind that he turned about
Immediately and began to retrace his
way back to the city and to his shop.
| When he reached Little Italy" doz.
en- eager men and women rushed upo'
him, seized him bodily and draggc
him toward his abode.
"Thy mother, thine old mother,
here" they screamed. "Ungrateful fel
low, she is alone ana waiting thee
For the first time in many months
| Pietro smiled.
my MOTHER" he whispered, "is with
the saints and happy! What canst
thou mean"
go, look for thysclf, half wittcd
sluggard and beggar," they bawled out
And they pushed him toward the door.
The little, old woman who had i'm
prisoned herself within caught the
shouts and the voice of Pietro, and her
heart gave one wild bound, and she
stood trembling at the door, ready to
fling 1t open.
Pietro stepped cautiously and touch
ell the handle. He did not know whom
he might encounter, so his advance
was timld. AS the door swung back
he gazed stupidity for moment. Then
cry of joy and pain broke from his
lips as he laid his hand on his heart to
still its awful beating.
"Beatricia, my beloved Is II thouY'
he gasped. 'Dost thou love meY"
"Madly, Pietrop
"Thou didst come to 1nd me, Bca-
tricia?"
'Thou, alone"
"Thou hast come to stay, BeatriciaY p
Alwaysw-Chicngo Tribune