The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-10-31
FROM SCARLET TO GRAY
BY FRANCES GILLESPIE. leO5. by Daily Story

(Copyright, 1905. by Daily Story Pub
 fishing Co.)
 He was tall, stoop-shouldered and threadbare and his shabby suit of black hung loosely on his frame.
 He had one tiny room at the rear end of the fourth floor of Madame Claude's Boarding House for Artists. 4 shabby place, like himself. but every clear morning the sun flooded 1t, and fell on the corner where his easel stood.
 Day after day, as he painted, his face grew winter and the drawn look about his mouth deepened. And Mad anne Claude, as she heard his listless steps mounting the sairs, past her door, noted their cver-ircreasing weariness with shake of her white-capped head
 The floor below him was filled with boisterous fellow workers; unlike him- self, they stood their hardships and dis appointments with laughter, and forgot their troubles with the able help of cheap wine. Their good luck was all ways the occasion for great hilarity.
 On this particular day he wondered duly what great event had happened to them. As he passed the closed doors, he could hear singing and the oiink Of glasses, and once woman's clear laugh rang out.
 It seemed lonely aid cold in his small back room that day. He heard the next morning from his garruious landiady that his fellow -boarders had been celebrating the return of Fforine, . favorite model, who had left the stage and como back to pose for them. marked Madame, and with rare kind ness forbore to add that the girls rep utation did not match her face.
 It was the same Iey. on his way to his room, that he saw her. The door of her room was open and she sat on a low stool, with her head thrown back against the window glass: her dress was a gaudy red material, with a wide white sailor collar. The sunlight shin ing on her golden hair made a halo around her face, and as he looked, an inspiration came to him. He would paint her like that, with the sunlight falling over her. and it should be a wonderad7 We'll he would ask her, and pray to the good saints that she would say yes.
 That night he drecned of his picture, and he sighed happily in hls sleep; when he awoke 1t was late, and the sun was filling his room with glory. He arnss hurrisdly. and without waiting for his customary frugal breakfast. went down and knocked timidly at her door.
 There was a quick step across the floor, and then the door was opened and she stood before him: he regarded her Rttentively, noting with an artists true love of beauty, the full rounded grace Of her young figure. It could not be possible that this regal looking crea- ture would sit for him; she seemed to his excited fancy like some young prin- cess and his courage fell
 Her eyes were questioning him. T am Flcrine." she said simrly. do yLu want anything of me"
 He was treasured by the kindness in her voice.
 T wanted to put in a picture" he stammered eagerly. ''Will you sit for me? I am on the floor above this, and If you will give me one short hour each morning, your time will not be wasted; 1t is to be a famous picture"
 She did not smile or hesitate. her eyes were soft with compassion. "why certainly, Monsieur. tomorrow if you wish" she answered readily.
 He lived in kind of glorified dream all day. Success was his at last; for not one shadow of doubt entered his mind as to his success. It would be a grand picture; of that he was certain; it would possibly take a prize in the Exhibit; the bare thought of this great good fortuAe sent a warm glow over his poor worn body; then he sighed inn patiently. as quick pain throbbed for an instant in his heart. Perhaps" he half whispered, perhaps it has come too late; ahi if can only finish it."
 The next morning he was upi before the sun, his brushes cleaned, his pal cite freshly scraped and new canvas stretched on his easel. His cheeks glowed feverishly as he answered her knock.
 You are in good time, Madamoiselie,' , he said briskly, his voice and bearing were full of confidence; twill you have a seat over there? pointing to a high chair which he had arranged for her
 Florine obeyed silently. her usual gay insolenee quite deserted her in the pres ence of this forlorn enthusiast; there was something noble in his manner and he did not try to hold her hand nor call her sweetheart, as did most of the men she knew: he was different yes, very different from most artists decided Florine to herself
 He worked steadily in silence; occa- sionally she caught his eyes fixed on her with an intent, searching gaze that sent the blood flying to her face.
 At the end of the hour he bade her Q courteous good morning, and opened the door for her with a low bow. Ii was the same each morning after that always the deep silence, only broken by the noises that came faintly up to them from the street below.
 once Florine asked him to show hei