Feb.
ONCE A WEEK.
20, 1S64.]
"Tho
exchanging a glance with seated myself near the room, and the bed and took the penitent's feverish hand He smiled gratefully, and after re•in mine. me,
recovered from
my profound astonishment I patron had left the shop, and held a rouleau of BCUdi in my hand. I rushed home but the close garret stifled me, went out again into the atreel and
doctor,
left
maining silent some few moments, began in a low voice, " Since 1 last saw you, my father, the
I
—
delirious with joy, and tho masqueraders me out of their way as if I had 1<
'
remembrance of
- '
tatingly,
myself.
for
1
many days I have hardly been much to tell you, and will
have
speak more to the friend than to the pastor. I do not wish to confess myself to you, for possibly the day may come when it will be better that you should repeat my words ; it is therefore necessary that you should know
and when you hear my memory accused, that knowledge will be my best defence. " It is now more than two months since the Carnival, yet I remember it as if it were all,
As the
day closed I sat alone in my garret in the Via dei Bardi, and stopped my ears that the merry voices in the I had spent street might not drive me mad. my last scudo I had no work, and though the spring nights were still chilly, I had sold even On my the coverings of my bed for food. easel stood a picture, the copy of which I had finished that morning, and taken home to the But he was masquerdealer twice in the day. The ading, and so of course I was not paid. lights carried by the masks in the carriages, and the lamps in the opposite windows, threw a strong glare into my naked room, and the sounds of music, laughter, and shouting became only yesterday.
first
so loud as the night deepened, I could not keep them out. I had made up my mind that it
would be better for me to lution brought
me
die,
calmness.
and that I took
reso-
my
up
and descending the four flights of stairs, walked quickly towards the Arno. As I stole along near the wall, shrinking from the crowd as if it mocked me, I felt my arm seized roughly, and, turning angrily round, found myself face to face with the picture-dealer for whom I had cap,
so fruitlessly searched during the day. dragged me into his shop, and before I
recovered from my surprise, presented a stranger who was seated near the door.
gentleman rose
politely,
He had
me
to
This
and pointing to one
and dusty pictures, said that he understood that I was the artist, that its style pleased him, and that if I were willing he could give me a commission. I bowed my thanks, and learnt that the work required was of
my
fly-stained
a picture of
He
spoke
St. Catherine, for his wife's oratory. longer, naming the size and
much
the price, but I heard nothing, and
when
1
my
found that
I
my ingratitude has ceaselessly reproached me, and only the want of courage to ask your forgiveness has kept me away from Added to which,' he continued, hesiyou.
229
i
pushed
The throng swept me walking in a dream. with it towards the Piazza del Duomo, where I found the steps of the cathedral as deserted as the square itself was crowded. I turned towards this silence and stood looking at the stars, and thinking that I too had disc a new world. Dazzled as I was, 1 thought that to see misfortune I must henceforth look backward, but I deceived myself. My first sorrow came into the world with the birth of
my first joy. I stood upon the same spot for hours, looking steadfastly before me, thinking of my work, and seeking to create in my mind the image the canvas waited for. I searched for a length of time in vain, but gradually a face seemed to form itself before me. I trem-
bled with joy, and studied every feature with an uncertain happiness, half fearful lest the vision should desert me. In my delight 1
woke from
my abstraction, and discovered a pair of brilliant eyes gazing earnestly into mine. The face was before me. I was then sensible that I had been guilty of an indiscretion, that, plunged in thought, my visionary glance had been long fixed upon features that were not
but glowed with a living breath. They smiled and passed away. I was filled with confusion my eyes irresistibly wandered to the cathedral doors ; I twice tried to turn ideal,
away, but could not. Impelled by an indeagitation I entered the church, and from that moment I remember little. A few stammered words a smile that still lives finable
in
my
heart
—a
—
promise.
Of
all this
I pos-
but an incomplete and distant recollection. One thing I know from that time the saint troubled me no more I had found my model. " On the I left the little sess
following
room where
I
had shed
You see
—
day
so
many
tears, for this
was no longer an artist. I painted, it is true but in a velvet chair. Still I was happy, for she came. She brought me strength the pencil became winged under apartment.
1
my
fingers
which
my
in the light of her eyes all colours
Her beauty was a prize art claimed the first tribute,
harmonised.
from
valued the treasure that gave life and vigour my work. The model breathed upon the copy, and almost in spite of itself a new creation
to
rushed into being. The two hours daily passed in her presence gifted my brush with a power
which only left it with the last glimpse of