Year: 1879

A STORY OF THE LATIN QUARTER.

 "He is one of the Americans" his fellow hcataires said among themselves. ''Poor and alone and in bad health. A queer fellow"

 Having made this reply to those who ques tioned them, they were in the habit of dis missing the subject lightly. After all it was nothing to them, since he had never joined their circle.

 They were a gay good -natured let, and made point of regarding life as airily as possible, and taking each day as it came with fantastic good cheer The house-which stood in one of the shabbiest corners of the Latin Quarter was full of them from floor to garret-ar- tists, students models, French, English, Amer icsns, living all of them merrily, by no means the most regular of lives. But there were good friends among them their world was their own and they. found plenty of sympathy in their loves and quarrels, their luck and ill., luck, Upon the whole there wasmore ill-luck than luck. Lucky men did not choose for their headquarters such places as this rather dilapidated building they could afford to go elsewhere, to places where the Quarter was better, where the stairs were less rickety, the passages less dark and the concierge not given to chronic intoxication. Here came the un- lucky ones, whose ill-luck was of various or ders and degrees the young ones who were some day to pant pictures which would be seen in the Palais de PIndustrie and would be greeted with acclamations by an appreclatIve public; the older ones who had painted pie lures winch had been seen at the Palais de PIndustrie and had not been appreciated at all, the poets whose sannets were of too subtle an order to reach the common herd; the stu dents who had lived beyond the means allowed fIor,, hvrfI fIosr int1 oh md who were consequently somewhat of color in the eyes of the respectable families in question these and others of the same class, all more or less poor, more or less out at elbows and more or less in debt And yet, as have said, they lived gayly. They painted, and admired or criticised each others pictures; they lent and borrowed with equal freedom; they be- moaned their wrongs loudly, ard sang and laughed more loudly still as the mood seized them and any special il-fortune befalling one of their number generally aroused display of sympathy, which, though it might not last long, was always source of consolation to the luckless one.

 But the American, notwithstanding he had been ln the house for months, had never be- come one of them. He had been seen in the early spring going up the stairway to ms room, which was mere garrct on the sixth story, and it had been expected among them that in day or so he would present himself for in- spection. But this he did not do, and when he encountered any of their number in his out goings or in-comings he returned their greet ings gently in imperfect French He spoke slowly and with difficulties, but there was no celdness in hls voice or manners, and yet none got much further than the greeting.

 He was young fellow, scarcely of middle height, frail in figure, hollow -chested, and with gentle face and soft, deeply set dark eyes, That he worked hard and lived barely it was easy enough to discover. Part of each day he spent in the various art galleries and after his return from these visits he was seen no more until the following morning.

 ''Until the last ray of light disappears he gay escapade had temporarily banished to the fifth floor. 'I hear him move now and then and cough. He has villainous cough"

 ''He IS one of the enthusiasts, said another. "One can read it in his face. What fools they are-these enthusiasts They throw away life that crown of laurel may be laid on their coffins."

 In the summer some of them managed to leave Paris and the rest had enough to do to organize their little excurslons and make the best of the sunshine, shade and warmth. And when those who had been away returned and all settled down for the winter, they found the ''American," as they called him, in his old place. He had not been away at all he had worked as hard as ever through midsummer heat and autumn rain he was Trailer in fig ure, his clothes were more worn, his face was thinner and his eyes far too hollow and bright. but he did not look either discouraged or un- happy. ge dramatically. ''The good God knows! He eats nothing, he has no fire, he wears the Nf aiy,fn hnv i,to he paints Perhaps that is enough for him. It would not be for me-"

 At this time-just as the winter entered with bleak winds and rains and falls of pow dery snOw-there presented herself among them an arrival whose appearance created sensation.

 One night. on his way up stairs, the Ameri- can found himself confronted on the fourth floor by flood of light streaming through the open door of before uneccupled room. It was small room, meagerly furnished, but there was a fire in it and half dozen people who laughed and talked at the top of their voices. Five of them were men he had seen before, artists who lived in the house, e,-but the sixth was woman whom he had never seen and whose marvellous beauty held him spell bound where he stood.

 She was woman of twenty-five or three, with an oval face whose fairness was the fair ness of ivory. She was dark-eyed and low browed, and as she leaned forward upon the table and looked up at the man who spoke to her, even the bright glow of the lamp, which burned directly before her face, showed no flaw in either tint or outline.

 ''Why should we ask the reason of you re- turn?" said the man. "Let us rejoice that you are here"

 '1 will tell you the reason she answered, without lowering her eyes, ''I was tired"

 "A good reason" was the reply.

 She pushed her chair back and stood up- right; her hands hung at her sides; the men were all looking at her; she smiled down at them with fine irony.

 ''Who among you wishes to paint me ?" she said. ''I am again at your service and am not less handsome than was."

 Then there arose among them little rap. turous murmur and somehow it broke the spell which had rested upon the man outside. He started, shivered slightly and turned away. He went up to the bare coldness of his own room and sat down, forgetting that it was ei- ther cold or bare. Suddenly, as he had looked at the woman's upturned face, great longing had seized upon him.

 ''I should like to paint you-I," he found himself saying to the silence about him, If 1 might paint you p

 He heard the next day who she was The concierge was ready enough to give him more information than he had asked.

 ''Madmoiselle Natalie, Monsieur means, he said handsome girl that a celebrated mod el. They all know her. Her face has been the foundation of more than one great picture. There are.not many like her. One model has this beauty-another that but she, mon Dieu, she has all. A great creature, is Madmoi- selle."

 Afterward, as the days went by, he found that she sat often to the other artists. Some times he saw her as she went to their rooms or came away; sometimes he caught glimpse of her as he passed her open door, and each time there stirred afresh within him the longing he had felt at first So it came about that one af- ternoon, ds she came out of studio in which she had been giving sitting, she found wait ing outside for her the thinly clad, frail figure of the American. He made an eager yet hesi- tant step forward, and began to speak awk- wardly in French.

 She stopped him.

 Speak English" she said, ''I know it very