Page:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/237

 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