The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1914-06-25
The Widow
In w hite
BY LOUISE MERRIFIELD.

''There she goes!"
Little Compton gave the alarm,
and everybody in the Pasquale stu
do leaped for the windows as the
white automobile whizzed by. -Four
easels crashed on the floor. The
model, a slender, dryad figure, with
"a spray of spring boughs over the
bare shoulder and trail of grass
green velvet from bust to ankle,
broke her pose and turned her
head.
Pasquale himself had been the
first to run and had a front seat, SO
| to speak, at the middle window,
with Jules lie Breton towering over
him.
No one spoke until the moment
Of suspense was passed and the
white auto had swerved around the
corner Of the Boulevard DIES Anges.
Then a low, intense breath of re-
leased suspense sounded audibly
through the bare room, and the
Pasquale students stared into one
another's eyes rapturously, gloating-
ly, just exactly as they had done
every day at the same hour for six
days.
"She is CELESTIAL" murmured LIE
Breton huskily as he lifted his fall
en- easel.
But he did not place crayon to
paper again that afternoon. He sat
and smoked short Amiens pipe
and stared at the spray of spring
boughs on the models bare shout
der, and the blood bounded through
his veins joyously, bubblingly, like
| the little mountain brooks breaking
through thin April ice.
LIE Breton had spring fever; alss,
in minor degree, LIE Breton was
newly in love again.
Pasquale crossed the room as
soon as the model had resumed the
pose, and he bent affectionately for
ward over lie Breton's chair and
tapped on the plump bowl Of the
Amiens pipe to recall LIE Breton's
soul from the asphodel meadow of
day dreams.
S'Mon ami, l have discovered a
small thing" he said in an under
tone so that Compton from Della
ware would not hear. Compton
from Delaware was a cynic, a per-
son utterly beyond the gates OF
spring enchantment. He had the
artistic temperament, but it show
ed itself in his work, not his hair
nor his loves nor his words. And
therein Compton from Delaware
was absolutely an original and
unique character among the art
students at Pasquale's. Also he
was absolutely despised as hope
less business proposition. But the
eyes of the girl with the spring
boughs passed over lie Breton's
blond ringlets and velvet blouse and
| fingered on the close cropped head
of Little Compton from Delaware.
1t was the way he had with wo-
men.
81 have discovered her habita-
tion," whispered Pasquale. "She is
widow"
GA widow in white!" lie Breton's
half closed eyes flashed open. "Ah,
but it is her whim. 1t is her divin-
ity revealing itself. 1t is her SYM
Dol Of release. She did not love
him if she can mourn in white.
But the art elusive, enchanting,
mysterious, to garb herself from
top to toe in svelte white suede, to
swathe her face in creamy chiffon
like an houri, to challenge ones
daring, to pique the curiosity, does
it not all prove the woman behind
the veil, the woman celestial, yet
with the dash, the mere touch, so
like the high light Of the diabolique
in her bereaved nature? Where
does she live, Pasquale ?"
Pasquale glanced sideways at Lit
tie Compton. He was extremely
busy giving a touch to the clasp of
| gold on the models left arm, a
touch to make it CLEAN.
"At the Hotel Lombard" said
Pasquale. 81 have engaged the
interest of the small boy at the
garage. She is widow, Nine. Ger
maine-La Belle Germaine. And
she lives at the Lombard. So, my
Jules, I give you the cue for the
romance, n'est-ce-pas?"
Le Breton rose and stretched his
arms widely until they touched the
gas jet above his head.
81 shall fling violets at her
vast clusters of them, dew wet;
Parma violets-straight into her
arms as she passes each day until
she recognizes me-" he said. 81
shall pierce the white chiffon veil
with opera glasses and see if her
eyes divine are melting blue or
gloriously, ravishingly dark, like la
Zingara. I shall"-
"You will make the customary
blooming idiot of yourself, Jules"
called Compton from Delaware over