The Press., 1908-01-29
BY LOUISE MHRR1FIELD


 But he did not place. crayon to paper again. that afternoon. He sat anG smoked short Amiens pipe and stared at the spray of spring boughs on the models bare shoulder, and the blood bounded through his veins joyously bubblingly, like the little Rpuntain brooks breaking through thin April ice
 Le Breton had spring fever;4also, ir 8 minor degree, Le Breton was newly In love again.
 Pasquale crossed the room as soon as the model had resumed the pose and he bent affectionately forward over Le Breton's chair and tapped on the plump bowl of the Amiens pipe to recall Le Breton's soul from the Ps, phodei meadow of day dreams.
 "Mon ami. have discovered a small thing" he said In an undertone5 so that Compton from Delaware would not hear. Compton from Delaware was a eynic. a person utterly beyond the gates of spring entertainment He had the artistic temperament, but 1t show ed itself in his work, not his hair nor his loves nor his worlds And therein Compton from Delaware was absolute ly an original and suniqne. character among the art students at Pasquale's. Also he was absolutely despised as a hopeless business proposition. But the eyes of the girl with the spring boughs passed over Le BFeton's blond ringlets and velvet blouse and fingered on the close cropped head of Little Compton from Delaware.
 It was the way he had with women.
 "I have discovered her habitation," whispered Pasquale. She. is wid- ow"
 "A widow in white!'' Le Breton's half closed eyes flashed open. ''Ah. but it is her whim. It is her divinity revealing itself. It is her symbol of release. She did not love- him if she can mourn in white. But the art elu- sive, enchanting. mysteriOuss to ,gaFh herself from. top to toe, in. sveIte white suede. to swathe her face .in creSny chiffon like an hourl. to challenge h's daring. to pique the curiosity. do 1t not all prove the woman behiN . veil. the woman celestial, yet will ne dash. the. mere touch. so like the Ugh light of the diaholique in her bere Ved nature? Where does she live, Pas quale?"
 Pasquale glanced sideways at Little Compton. He was extremely busy giv: ing touch to the clasp of gold on the models left arm, touch to make it gleam. 4ee
 'At the Hotel Lombard,'' said Pas Quale. 'T have engaged the interest of the small boy at the garage. She is g widow. Mime. Germaine-La Belle Ger maine. And she lives at the Lombard. So. my Jules. give you the cue for the romance. -n'est-ce-pas9"
 Le Breton rose and stretched his arms widely until they touched the gas jet above bia head .,.4s3
 l shall fling vlOlefS at her-yaSt clusters of them, dew wet; Parma vio- lets-straight- into her arms as she passes each day until sine recognizes me" he said. 'tI shall pierce the white chiffon veil with opera glasses, and see If her eyes divine are melting blue or gloriously, ravishingly dark, like Ia Zingara. I shall''-
 ''You will make the customary bloom ing idiot of yourself, Jules,'' called Compton from Delaware over his shoulder with, cheerful junction. How many children did the. last divinity have after you had followed the trail of romance for two weeks and finally landed her in a bakery over the Seine?"
 Le Breton raised a glass of ice wa ter to deposit it below the adjacent coat collar, but he stayed his hand and drank the water automatically. Once. once long ago, he had not stayed his hand, and the memory of the resultant episode fingered yet. Little Compton had risen swiftly and deftly, promptly nOOred him. And even the model had laughed. It was not a pleasant mem ory. Therefore Le Breton stayed his hand and drank of the ice water.
 The next day Le Breton vanished from the atelier at quarter of 3 pre- ctsely, but his intentions were public.
 The windows of Pasquale's were oc-- cupied by an absorbed audience long before the whir of the white auto sounded on the still hush of the mid afternoon. By leaning from the win dows one could catch a@glimpse of figure standing on the corner. a pa tient, noble figure under the quaint wrought iren street lamp. the figure of the knight errant, in paint daubed vel. vet blouse. cap rakishIy, romanticaflv awry and in the hands the most beau tiful, enormous Ianguishing bouquet of Parma violets that Le Breton could dnd. A beauty 1t was, regal offer. and the stems. the tender young stems. prisOred in tin foil violet dyed.
 PreBently there was the sound of the chariot celestial, the cream white au- tomobiie, with the tiny gold monogram on one side, so vague, so nnreadable, SO diyipely mysterious to the faces that crowded one above another at Pasqnals's windows, like eabbages in the market stalls.
 "Sbe comes. mon Dieu. she comes, " gasped Pasquale ecstattcally. "N0w, Jules. now brave boy. may thy aim be sare as Eros dartr'
 The white auto purFed softly, swift ly, down the pavement. Le Breton raised his cap. raised his hand to toss his offering. and. To, he tossed not, for beside the slender. figure in the white suede cloak sat Little Compton. SC. were, masterful and totally obliviOts of either Le Breton or the windows. of Pasdnale.
 It,Fas the deadly blow. but Le Ere ton showed his ancestry. A Le Breton had been in Bayardss band of vaga- bond free lances and had won q mar Quisate for deeds heroic.