Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1910-02-23

shals see you no more" And Angeii-
,a's annoyance at the ease with which
she was resigned was only half re-
moved by his conclusion as he touched
his breast:
But | shall have you here always
Nor would he let her see the pic
.ure. WAIT till it is done he said
And he painted so diligently that she
grew jealous. 1t had all his attention;
she none. What was it like? The inn
keeper. who had seen it, called her
Giuseppe's inspiration. But was she
10 be only an inspiration? She looked
at his distracted face. and a wave of
gain and love overspread her own.
Seeking to make some connection be-
tween herself and the painting, she
spoke one day of Pygmalion.
He kissed his Galatea into life, you
know" Her conviction that Giuseppe
did know absolutely nothing that was
ever classified and put into a book of
reference led her to add:
''She was the statue he had made,
and after that she became his wife"
The poetry of this appealed to Gu
seppe, nor was the parallel lost. He
.ooked from her to the picture, then
gave a despairing sigh:
"Ah, but l have not painted a Gala
tea.''
Angelicas luminosity toward the pic
ture grew with her love. The day it
was completed and showed to her she
could have cried aloud in despair, even
while she Frustrated herself before the
genius that had produced it. 1t was
a perfect face-nO wOman's, but an
angels. 1t was the soul of goodness
looking down on sinners with unscorn-
ing pity, glorious, alluring up sleeps
and on to heights, then fitting on be-
fore, always unattainable, always ex-
alting. So Beatrice must have been
when her eyes drew Dante out of pur-
gatory into heaven.
Giuseppe loved it-not her. There
was no common ground between them.
The girls hands clinched with the
hopelessness of rivalry against the
nonexistent And, insult to insult, the
thing had stolen her lineaments!
''She Is great" Angelica said. dash
ing back the tears. "She will make
you famous-and me, perhaps" There
was a ring of sarcasm in the last
words that puzzled Giuseppe.
"She is great. l have dwelt with her
day and night, until l understood She
has been my salvation. She has led
me on and on. l am no longer a
painter, but an artist. And she is you
You have taught me this. l thank
you"
Angelica jerked back her hand from
his reverent lips and shrieked her ex-
ASPIRATION, mo, no, no-she is ugly,
ugly"
She had hoped to retire with dignity
The dam once broken, her emotions
poured out in spite of her. 'She isn't
me. You have no right to paint that
thing and call it me. When you said
you loved me. l believed it. / loved
you in spite of your faults. But you
you are wicked and ungrateful. You
demand Of me perfection-and such
perfection"
Giuseppe rubbed his hand across his
forehead, stupefied yThe picture and
Angelica. it seemed, were two sep
arate entities. Galatea, made flesh,
was no longer Galatea. Here was a
woman surely. the one he had painted.
But the blessed angels, did they not
exist?
DO you love me?" she demanded,
with a stamp of her foot. ME or her,
which? Look at ner. She is a CO.
quette. You will never reach her,
however you try. l will make you
happy-sO happy, Giuseppe. But choose,
choose"
Giuseppe stood open mouthed for a
few daZed moments till he had stared
her into focus. Not his angel now. not
above him. He might touch, possess
A woman this with the features so
dear to him, red Tipped, fairer than
Floria. The earth called loudly to
him. Heaven was far off. The clouds