The Butte inter mountain., 1903-12-23
INTER MOUNTAINS DAILY
SHORT STORY
THE ANCIENT PORTRAIT

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Through all open window ! perceived
an oval of dull gold, so dimmed and worn
with age, that il appeared vague and
deformed like the circle of star as seen
through haze.
There were touches of grace, Of infinite
sweetness, slightly decolletc, resting her
smiling and thoughtful face on her bare
arm, a young woman was painted--with
that expression of melancholy coquettisf-
ness. and amusing frivoity, that the painter
Of the eighteenth century Natter knew
how SO well to give his pictures. The ex-
preston Of the mouth and that Of the
eyes harmonzes with the character; and
one could feel this Young face nodded
ms some ono of the period has said--from
lilies and roses--coud become animated
with the rarest and most exquisite love
The arrangement and draping OF the grown,
the details OF the background and accesso-
res. certain and delicate quality Of color
expresses so surely the old master, that
in spite Of my scrupes and distrnst as an
amateur | believe myself to be before one
Of the most beautiful and most precious
pictures Of the painter Of Versailles.
And Immediately rapid and violent,
was born in me the desire. the necessity
10 nave lHlS WOlk VI III ~ lth9l W 'y
10 have il. In a second my mind plotted
one OF those little mancuycrs Of artless
cheating, TO the indulgence Of which the
admirers Of bric-a-brac sometimes stoop--
as well as to trickery.
But this soaring became stupid. and my
dream vanished. What likelihood tha, in
this Norman forest. crossed with roads
inhabited by parisians what likelihood
was there that no one had discovered this
wondcr9
Father Contour Was behind the house
digging the ground. He dug it with a
large spade first. making ii start unc,r
the iron head, then bringing it out damp
and heavy. alive with writhnR worms
suddenly it slipped in crumbling clods
from the two sides OF the implement, anl
was spread out rich and mellow, under
the feet Of the old man.
On hearing me walk toward him he
raised his red face with its white mus
,achc My negotiation evidently inter-
ested him. Bu, hardly had begun 10
speak-twsting and mtwising my sem
tenccs-of the picture, when saw the
peasant smile. He said, as though TO
spare nc any more humilaiing attempts:
II know Monsieur. know that the pic
ture is Of value, b,t il is not Tor sale
But, ii one should offer yoti--"
mo, Monsieur no; it does not belong
TO me-"
felt that there was some deception
here. Perhaps some merchant had been
here, and WAS coming to take away any
further opportunity OF delightful
chance.
oh, my poor picture my poor lady with
the tender smile. She would leave the
green cottage, the friendly shade-shc
would be in place Of merchandise, hung
mp with others, and wounded by the gaze
Of purchasers.
Have you sold it,
at is not mne---wait. ask the young
lady il She wishes 10 sell it to YOU
! heard the rustic OF n skirt and turned
around. a thrill Of amazement shook my
body. | saw the lady OF the picture. II
was the same forehead, the same eyes,
that expressive mouth, the saucy nose the
secret mingling OF tenderness, pride aud
melancholy
The young girl who was coming toward
me wore a dress OF by-gone fashion, re
scmblng the one painted BY Natter, and
the short sleeves revealed her bare arms
with their youthful curves. 1t was ev-
dently copied after the same model.
She stood before us coquettishly, happy
perhaps. 10 feel the light and air cool her
cheeks-and to live again SO perfectly as
in the past
The wa,chman looked a, her, leaning on
his spade.
Sylvia, here is a gentleman from Paris
who wants your picture
Il regret Monsieur, but ! cannot part
wirh it,
Her voice was musical deep with mod
ula,ed tones, low like the voice Of
singer; one moment | stayed to watch her
and to listen, then | understood that
looked like fool, and after low bow
departed.
! returned the next day, for | was pos