The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-05-08

1ll VI 1E have nono of that innate ur6anity. of that mysterious, nameless flower of charm, which reveals the secret essence of each being as in a garden each corolla subtly exhalcs the odor of the flowers He found in all the girls the same glance. the same smile, the same light and color less mind, Their plastic beauty did no, fill his dream.
 In vain he tried to endow them with what was lacking and by the mere force of his genius to clothe them with a sp]endor rare and mysterious. One as- ter another he destroyed the works 'hat he wrought. Statutes that would have assured the reputation and fortune of an- ether artist he contemptuously cast aside ii, the fever of his restless imagination and unsatisfied desire. At last he began to doubt himself. Never. he thought. would hc be able to give body to his dream, for never would he find a creature worthy of giving form to the fluid soul os Florence and incarnate his master piece. Ho was in love with an idea. a phantom. an intangible chimera. In truth. he suffered cruelty.
 While in this mood he looked back to his childhood with regret, remembering the potter's work shop on the flower crowned hillside and the rosy dreams which had blossomed in the garden of his soul Why. he asked himself, dtd those enjoyable days seem so far away and lost in the past? In himself he found no change. for he was as ever sensitive and ardent Gradually. however. inex- orable time killed his illusions one by one and laid waste this secret garden of his fo s,, xxvt,f cn inyafv hQncG had flourished. Often as in former days he watched the sun as 1t flooded in the west and prayed that to him before he died might be vouchsafed single hour to shed forth his flame and fling his radi- ance across the world.
 One evening thus dreaming of the phan- tom land he lounged on the terrace In the square of Michel Angelo. Behind him, srIendid in the sunset glow. rose the statue of the young David. grim yet frail. The town spread out before him, still brilliant. though darkened here and there by son1bre patches. At little distance the Arno, winding through the valley. seemed to bear with 1t the last faint gi.mmer of vaciliating light. and only tho purple hills, crowned with hght clouds, were luminous and clothed, as It were. with transparent silver gauge. Leone s RlHnCo was UAcu pii ehC nAosHht horizon. He dared not look at the city which had deceived him, but to the gra- clous hill on which Fiesoie outlined her white beauty. With that little spot he was now in love as he was when child with Florence, the glorious and invin- cible.
 His day dream was suddenly interrupt ed Near him on the terrace was a wo- man. also gazing at the sun as its rays gave, flame to the horizon. Erect and n,otionless, with arms outstretched to right and left, she stood. white dress, drawn close at the waist by violet scarf, revealed beneath Its fold the sheer youthfulness of her delicate yet rounded frame. Her brown hair famed to gold in the sunset glow as the dark leafage of the bushes when sun ray sends it's arrows through them. In her large eyes of amber brown all the charm of Florence was concentrated, and in the small cupid's bow of her lips all the rid de of the pale proud maiden and the lover beyond appealed. Leone saw in her the ideal woman of his dream.
 He dared not stir lest she should van- ish Sc was more beautiful than the country and the city. more beautiful than tho hills and the river, more beautiful tran Lne edTtn anu tic ohys III Her all these seemed to assemble as in a single flower of life. Her bosom heaved gently, her heavy eyelids shaded her eyes. Her forehead was illumined not by the light of the dying day star. but by some inner flame. She folded her arms and gently moved away. Only then did 1t occur to the artist that he ought to make her ac- quaintance. He was too late, for she had disappeared in one of the streets, lined with privets and cieanders. which form a green labyrinth at that end of the city.
 Leone in that memorable instant had seen his hearts desire. He had seen, as if drawn from himself. the one wo- man for whom he had been looking so long. She was that and she was noth- ing else. Without exchanging either word or sign he had all at once recognized her But he discovered that at the mo- ment of finding her he had lost that in- teuectual control of her which he for merly had. He tried hard to recall the woman whom he had imagined so often as A perfect model; but, though she came at his bidding. her features were no longer clear but as though seen dimly through a veil, and now more than ever he felt that without her he could never fashion his masterpiece.
 stiu. one great hope sustained him. She lived: she dwelt somewhere. IL was impossible that he should not manage to find her again. Since she had come on one evening to the terrace on the square of Michael Angelo to admire the setting and he would speak to her and entreat