Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1903-02-03
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:M'CULLER'S
CREATION
Copyright, 1901, By
} American Pres Association

Z" PORTRAIT Of Zuleika," tall,
"a sheer, with the introspective
gaze Of old time saintship in
the eyes that looked out
from under gold shot hair lying in dap
pied rings across the forehead; short
lips on which the paint CLEANED fresh.
McCuller bent his head critically.
"As good as you make EN-" suggest
ed his friend from lounge in the cor
ner.
NO" said McCuller; wants life. 1t
is the artistic basis which I lack; ex-
presses her, though, soft as the men,
ory of buried love- Humph! Not quite
What do you say, Pybus"
He turned, weighing the palette in
his hands. Strange how the face
clIngs to me! An idea, my idea, mate
rialized, created from nothing, like
Gods world. For the furtherance Of
what? My own glory? Not as long as
the eyelids appear as If they had never
winked. See; they stare too much"
Pybus raised himself on one elbow
to look at the picture through half
shut eyes. Push it back against the
portiere-so. Crimson sets 1t, as 1t
were, in relief. There; that's better.
Now she breathes."
"No; but / wish she did. Pybus, 1t
Is Pygmalion over again. I could love
her If she lived"
"And feed her? McCuller, you are
crazy. II she lived, you would have to
support her, and she would worry you.
AS 1t is, you possess her and she need
not eat. Be thankful"
II am. But, Pybus, what glorious
conceit to command life to the eyes.
call the blood from heart to lips
"You did not paint the heart"
"None the less possible to will it into
existence. To will-dO you understand:
For, il the emanations Of divine will
can effuse themselves into created ma
terial substance, why should not hui
man will by the potency Of its divine
germ evolve into sentient, an already
visible. conception"
"Goodby. McCuller. l came here to
recreate, not to speculate upon divine
emanations There is nothing divine
about me. Goodby."
"Yes; 1t is speculation, Pybus. Every
thing is speculation. You and ! are
speculations. Do not imagine But
Pybus slammed the door, and McCul-
ler finished bis speech alone.
"Pybus."
"Well"
"Will we succeed In getting this In
sane idea out Of McCuller's headY
Don't know"
"Jones says he's getting morbid on
the subject"
"Who is-Jones"
"No; McCuller."
"He's about right"
"Who-McCuller"
"No; Jones'"
There was a knock at the door, and
Stedd blew away cloud Of smoke as
he said, "Come In"
The door not opening Immediately,
he rose swearing beneath his breath
at the trouble. He got half way across
the room before a slight figure crossed
the threshold and a. tremulous voice
began:
II was told to come in
"Yes," "Stedd executed bow. Miss
"Peyton."
"Ah! Mr.. Jones sent you"
"Yes."
HAS he told you what you are to
DOR
"Yes, sir. He said was to stand In
a frame and personate 'Zuleika' for a
joke. I-he told me 1t was being done
to ridicule friend Of his out Of some
morbid idea"
"Yes; 1t is all right. Mr.. Jones hap
pened to see you at your window and
was struck with your resemblance to
the picture. You are almost an exact
reproduction. We concocted this plan
in order to have laugh over our
friend"
80 Mr.. Jones said. And-you will
pay me as soon as 1t Is over"
"Oh, yes. You said-Mr. Jones said
your father was Ill. unconscious?
"Yes." Her lip quivered suddenly.
ut was solely on his account that
consented to come. We are very poor.