Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1901-01-29
genuous, frank and altogether charm

and then proceeded to quiz and criti-
else my new work, pointing out a de-
feet in foreshortening that l had not
before noticed and indicating the err
rors with his thin, bony hand.
'But you are improving rapidly
piano. 81 lavore bene." he said encour-
agingly and cfter giving some technical
instruction added. And now let me see
what | can make of it,
He threw aside his shabby coat, took
up my palette. mixed some colors with
great care and then in silence went to
work.
Thus l stood chatting with Filomena.
We chatted about the galleries and the
antiquities. and l could not refrain
from saying:
"Firenze non ST muove, Sc tutta non
81 duole.'
"Ah.' she laughed. that is quite
true! Its charm lies in the fact that
the vandals have not touched it like so
many of our old cities. And you find it
pleasant too?'
Il have but little time to see it's beau
ties" answered. Il work always.
Work. work. but with such little result
-ah. so very little"
The old man finished at last and
threw down the brushes, saying:
Il think now it will do. Take it to
that old rogue Ferroni and make him
give you 1000 lire fer it. 1t is worth
that, but the old Jew always lies like
an epitaph."
| stood before the easel dumfOunded
The effect was perfect. He was indeed
the mysterious master. l thanked him,
but he waved me aside, declaring it
was nothing.
AS the old man had suggested, Fer
roni gave me 1000 lire for the picture,
and day or two afterward. having
entered Santa Maria Novella with a
view TO painting the StrOZZi chapel as
a background, | suddenly encountered
Filomena. She was going up to Fiesole
to deliver a message for the signora
and. obtaining permission, accompa-
MED her. How well l remember that
sunny afternoon as we StrOlled about
the ancient little town perched high
upon its hill, where the women were
plating their straws; how we gaZed
down upon the DuomO and the red
roofs of Florence, with the Arno wind
ing away like silver thread to sun
blanched old Pisa and the distant sea!
| became intoxicated by her marvellous
beauty, for her face was pure as one of
DonatellO's angels.
Beneath the shadow of the grim old
Porta San Gallo she halted to take
leave of me. and l saw in her manner
a firm determination to give me no op-
portunity of finding out where she
lived. Somehow l could not open my
mouth even to stammer word of love,
although my heart was full of it.
"Addio," she said, stretching forth
her slim, white hand.
"Addio, 81 dice al morti'' (adieu one
says only to the dead, protested, TAX
ing her hand.
Then Il riverderie," she said. raising
her eyes to mine with a strange, sad
look and. turning, continued her way
beneath the trees Of the Viale.
Time wore on until the fiesta Of Ma
tale. On the day following the fete l
CHANGED to be crossing the Piazzi ST.
gnoria that great old square flanked by
the PalaZzo Vecchio and Oreagnas
dark old lOggia, with it's wonderful
bronzes and Statuary, when suddenly a
fine carriage drawn by grand pair of
bays passed me. In it, sitting alone,
was a slight female figure warmly
wrapped in rich furs. l glanced quick
ly after her. No. Surely it could not
be Filomena! | laughed bitterly at the
suggestion, then, signing YEARLY, con-
tinued my way.
One night while l sat reading by can
delight my door was opened sudden
ly, and man in smart livery stood in
the entry.
The Signor George Maguire?" he
inquired.
rose quickly and took from his hand
letter, which l found to contain an
urgent request in Italian that l should
accompany the bearer, as the writer
wished to see me Immediately. 1t was
signed III Maestro MisteriosO."
so he knew the title that old Ferroni
had given him! The letter was a sur
prise, but l assumed my frayed over
coat and lost no time in obeying. Be
low Il brOugham awaited me, and, en-
tering it. was driven across the city
and out by the Porta Romano to one of
those beautiful villas with which the
hills around Florence are studded. A
mo fbpnxr-
entering, | found myself in a spacious
hall filed with palms and flowers, a
veritable winter garden.
Suddenly the servant opened a door,
and found myself with the man who
had rescued me from starvation.
His face was haggard and anxious,
his eyrr bore signs of recent tears, and
as he advanced and took my hand l
felt that he was trembling.
"Signore," l cried, why, what is the
meaning Of this?"
"FilOmena," he sobbed in a choking
voice. she wished to see you, so /
have sent for you"
~" l cried.
come, he battered, see for your
self" And he led me to g handsome
bed chamber, where in the subdued
light | distinguished two Sisters of
Charity in their big white headdresses
tenderly watching their patient. Ad-
vancing TO the bed, l bent until saw
the poor pilched white face with The
wealth CT fair hair straying over the
pillow, Her eyes were closed, and she
seemed TO be sleeping, but as the old
maestro approached she suddenly rails
ed her cyelids, and her gaze, wander
ing, fell upon me.
At first she seemed unable to recog-
nize me distinctly, but a moment later
she put forth her thin, wasted hand,
and took it tenderly, unable to utter
single word-unable TO keep back the
hot tears which blinded me.
l felt the soft pressure of her fingers
and saw that long. wistful look in her
pure blue eyes.
You have come to me at last, Pic