El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1900-02-22
): A Danae In SabotS =.

Drive TO the Bots"

OTlNe 10 Inc
The English coachman knew by the
way his master slammed the door of
the coupe that the world did not wag
well with him.
Henri DuvaI leaned back on the seat
and impatiently slapped his gloves on
his knee, staring blankly out of the
window as the carriage rolled down
the broad avenue. gay with equipages
and equestrians. Ordinarily he would
have noted each riders skill and even
the clothes he wore and would have
had a smile for every woman of his
acquaintance. but this morning he was
overshadowed by a sense of defeat, at
which he was as much surprised as
COMPOUNDED.
To think that it was only yesterday
"a few fieeting hours ago-that he held
his head high among his confreres.
and nowI What mattered it if all
criticised his "Danae." a picture that
had aroused the envy and enthusiasm
of the artistic world?
In vain he sought to forget her
words. to cry out that one foolish wo-
mans Judgment could not count
against the public praise which he had
reaped as his just reward after years
of work.
The reason for her criticism is what
stung him most. Her words still rang
in his ears:
''You fail. Henri. in achieving the
highest; you depict the body and not
the soul This Danae is beautiful flesh
and blood. but the charm of the allego-
ry is lost. The beauty that wins a di-
vinity should possess an inspiration be-
yond that born of flesh tints and
curves. 1t is this lack. mon ami. that
makes me ice to your fame. My late
husband was a brutal sensualist; you
have dimIy outlined my years of pen
ance with him. You are a refined SEN
sualist. You would not throw your
boots at my head in a drunken frenzy
or parade your mistress before me in
public. but your nature lacks the ideali-
ty l need more than ever You plead
your old friendship as a sure precursor
Of amending love. Alack. Henri. the
boy l once played with has vanished
never to return. Around the man |
now know cling affectionate memories
of the past. but he is not to me the pos
sibility of faithful spouse for the flu
ture- Unless you can prove to me that
your fortune has not degraded your
art. that in a luxurious life you rise
above yourself. above selfishness. we
cannot be one in either thought or
heart. When | see a canvas signed by
you bearing the imprint of noble soul
as well as a trained eye and Skilled
hand. then. Henri, | may listen to your
ardent wooing."
He could see her as she stood beside
him, calm and thoughtful. her hand
resting for a moment upon his arm. yet
with an impalpable something separat-
ing her utterly from him. 1t brought
little solace to his soul to know that
ten years before. if he had but spoken
to the fair girl he knew so well. she
might have been his before her parents
had hurried her into the marriage with
that rich old count whose death at last
was the sole comfort his wife derived
from her maria ge with him.
Henri Duval had loved the maiden
well. but the young wife better. though
her irreproachable life shielded her
from even an attempt on his part to
express his devotion. So he dreamed
his dreams and lived his easy life, re-
serving always in the depths of his be-
ing pure place for her image. while
his daily encourage was favored with
the Bohemia of art and Partisan youth.
His plebeian grandfather had amassed
a fortune. and the marriage Of his ia
Their with the pennilesS daughter of a
duke had lowered him with the right
to hobnOb with the mighty ones of the
land. SO that Henri had found his path
in life a rosy one. Rich. clever and
handsome, he was immensely popular, +
q little spoiled by adulation and very
sensitive to praise or criticism.
The contemplation of marriage had
not escaped his thoughts. but he feared
that he would grow weary of domestic
joys. and the women he met were eli
Their too frivolous or too SeriouS-all
except the one of his dreams, whose
marriage had caused him to feel a dis /
tinct sense of loss in his life. A thou /,
sand times he had blamed himself for
letting this treasure slip from his
grasp. and when at last she was free
again he found her more beautiful. (;
more gracious. Then he poured out /!
his passionate love, only to find his idol
turn cold before his eyes. Never could
he forget her cruel words. and yet she |!
had confessed that since she was
child she had loved him and for that |
reason had avoided seeing him while |!
married to the count. For one mo- |
ment, one heavenly instant. her great
brown eyes had gaZed into his with
tenderness. Then the look had vanish
ed, and quiet dignity enveloped her
as with an icy mantle. Henri had felt
powerless TO take her hand. and his
eager words died upon his lips. Thus
had they parted
The carriage stopped. the coachman
wishing to know whether monsieur
had any particular route in view.