The Newport plain talk. (Newport, Tenn.) 1909-1939, 1914-02-26
The Widow
In White
BY LOUISE MERRIFIELD.

aAhNAS ot'S SoOSo'
Little Compton gave the alarm,
and everybody in the Pasquale stu
dio leaped for the windows as the
white automobile whizzed by. Four
easels crashed on the floor. The
model, 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 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 des 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; also,
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.
"Mon ami, | 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 mead
Of Little Compton from Delaware.
1t was the way he had with wo-
men.
81 have discovered her habita-
tion," whispered Pasquale. "She is
a widow"
"a widow in whitew LIE Breton's
half closed eyes flashed open. "Ah,
but it is her within. It is her divin-
ity revealing itself. 1t is her SYM
boil 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 touch to the clasp Of
gold on the models left arm, a
touch to make it CLEAN.
"At the Hotel Lombard" said
Pasquale. II have. engaged the
interest of the small boy at the
garage. She is a widow, Nine. Ger
maine-La Belle Germaine. And
she lives at the Lombard. So, my
Jules, give you the cue for the
romance, n'est-ce-pas?"
LIE Breton rose and stretched his
arms widely until they touched the