The star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1908-1909, 1908-09-22

for a woman in these days means
SANDER and jealousy-no more! Here
is my history and with a quick
movement of her hand she drew aside
a curtain which nae concealed an
other picture of great size and
magnificent execution-representing .
group OF wild horses racing furiousiy
onward together, without saddle or
bride. and entitled II Barberi."
Il painted this" she said. while I
stood lost in admiration before the bold
and powerful treatment of so difficult
a subject. when l was eighteen. I am
twenty-seven now. At eighteen / be-
lieved in ideals; and. Of course in love,
as a part of them. 1 was betrothed to
a mana Austrian, who was studying
art here in Rome. He saw me paint
this pieture-ne watched me draw
every line and lay on every tint. Well.
to make a long story short. he copied
it. He brought his canvas here in this
studio and worked with me-out of
love. he said-for he wished to keep an
exact fac-simile of the work which he
declared would make me famous. I be-
lieved him, for L loved him. When he
had nearly finished his copy he took 1t
away. and two days afterward came
to bid me farewell. He was obliged to
go to Vienna, he told me, but he would
return to Rome again within the
month. We parted as lovers part
with tenderness on both sides-and
when he had gone I set to work to give
the last finishing touches to my pic
ture. When l had done all I thought
| could do, | wrote to a famous dealer
in the city and asked him to come and
give me his judgment as to the worth
of my work. Directly he entered this
room he started back, and looked at
me reproachfully. L can do nothing
! with a copy he said; L have just pur-
chased the original picture by Max
Wieland.'"
l uttered an exclamation Of indigna-
ton and compassion.
yes" continued Giuletta Marchini,
Max Wieland was my over. He had
stolen my picture. he had robbed me
of my fame. / do not quite know what
happened when 1 heard 1t. I think I
lost my head completely for q time
my mother tells me I was Ill for
months. But I myself have no remem-
brance of anything but a long blank of
hopeless misery. OF course / never saw
Max again. l wrote to him; he never
answered. I told the picture-dealer my
story, but he woul not believe 1t.
The design of at Barberi,"' he said,
is not that of a feminine hand. It is
purely masculine. If Max Wieland is
your damo, you do him a great and
cruel injustice by striving to pass of
your very accurate copy as the orig
inal. 1t will not do, my dear little sly
one, It will not dol I am too old and
experienced a Judge for that. No girl
of your age was ever capable Of de-
signing such a work-look at the anat-
omy and the coloring! 1t is the man's
touch all oyer-nothing feminine about
it. And then" went on Giuletta, slow
~. "the story got about that I tried
to steal Max Wieland's picture, and
that he had broken off his engagement
with me on that account. My mother.
who is old and feeble, grew almost mad
with anger, for she had witnessed his
work of copying from me, but no one
would believe her either. They only
said II was natural she should try to
defend her own daughter. Then we
were poor. and we had no o to
appeal to the law. No dealer would
purchase anything that bore my name
AS an artist I was ruined"
Here the dog Mitu, conscious that his
mistress's voice had rather a sad tone
in II, limped across to her on his three
legs, holding up his bandaged paw.
She smiled and lifted him up in her
arms.
Yes. we were ruined, Mitu." she
said, resting her pretty. rounded chin
on his silky head. Ruined as far as
he world and the worlds applause
went. But ono ann put a stop to
. thoughts-they will grow, like flowers,
wherever there is any soil to give them
root. And though l knew l could not sell
my pictures. / continued to paint for
my own pleasure, and to keep my
mother and myself alive, I gave draw
ing lessons to children. But we were
poor-intolerably. squalidly poor-tiIl
one day Mr., Hoskins came"
And then?'I inquired eagerly.
why, then-weil,' and the fair
Marchini laughed a little. He made me
a curious proposal. He said he was an
American artist who desired to estab-
fish himself In Rome. He could only
paint landscapes, he told me. and he
knew he would require to a figure
pictures in his studio to draw He
said no would pay me handsomely to
do these figure pictures II l would sell
them to him outright, let him put his
name to them. and ask no more about
them. | hesltatcd at first, but my
mother was very i'll at the time, inc
| had no money. 1 was driven by
necessity. and at last | consented. And
Mr.. Hoskins has kept his word about
payment-he is very generous-and my
mother and | are quite well off now"
But he is asking fifteen thousand
dollars for the Daphne l cried. "and
he only gives you two thousand francs.
Do you call that generous?"
Giuletta Marchini locke thoughtful.
well. | don't know!" she said, sweet
~. with a ~plaintive uplifting of her
I eyebrows: you sec it costs him a great
deal TO live in Rome; he entertains
numbers of people n has to keep a
carriage. Now it costs us very little
to live as we do. and we have no
friends at all. Two thousand francs Is
quite as large a sum to me as fifteen
thousand dollars is to him."
And you will never make an attempt
to secur for yourself the personal
fame you so we'll deseryeT" l asked in
establishment.