Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 274, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1914 — HIS MASTERPIECE [ARTICLE]

HIS MASTERPIECE

By W. E. PRICKETT.

(Copyright by Daily Story Pub. Co.) In old Paris, in the heart of the crumbling, begrimed Quartier Latin, lived Louis Diable, artist He was tall and very slender, with narrow shoulders, sunken chest long arms and legs. His sallow face, with its complement of beady eyes and sharp offset by black mustache and goatee, marked a striking resemblance to the being whose name he Because of an extremely limited wardrobe, Diable wore upon all occasions a broadcloth suit of ancient pat- , tern which, though dilapidated, ill- ’ fitting and faded, was in keeping with the other articles of apparel he affected. Louis worked only When the craving of the inner man demanded sus- | tenance, and during, his leisure hours he frequented the cases of the Quarter or the studios of his bohemian acquaintances. The productions of his brush were weird and fantastic. Some said he copied Dore; others claimed that such productions could only be conceived hy the devil himself. “The face, the name —mon dleu; he Is the devil himself." The appellation bad clung to him through life and had rankled his brain till he dreamed devils and was haunted, during wakeful moments in the silent hours of the night, by grim specters that rose out of dark corners tn his room. Perhaps absinthe, to which he was rapidly enslaving himself, could account for the mad fantasies of his imagination ; howbeit, this torture of mind and soul Increased with the quantity of wormwood he consumed. The chaff of his associates became intolerable, so he began to seek unfrequented cases and deserted streets that he might encounter no one who knew him or his peculiar cognomen. At length Diable resolved to portray upon canvas a being so grotesque, horrible and inhuman that it would Indeed be the devil of all dev11$. It should be his masterpiece! Paris would ring with his name! His acquaintances would taunt him no more; indeed, with fame and fortune tn his grasp he would forsake the Quarter and its distasteful associations, and remove to a more pretentious domicile, there to live in ease, happiness and luxury. He. would blot the past forever from his memory. Inspired by these ambitions he set to work. Never had he toiled so assiduously. He scarcely took the requisite time for eating and sleeping. He admitted no one to his studio; was deserted by the few friends who remained loyal to him, and was therefore Isolated from the world about him with the picture which slowly crept from his brain to the canvas. The color seemed io eke from his soul through fingers and brush, every touch of which was an atom of life to the painting that was converting the coarse, white surface into a colossal monster, rising from the depths of an inferno of fire and torture. Several weeks of unceasing application brought his work near completion, and the afternoon of June 2, 188—» found Louis Diable putting the finishing touches on his great “master- . piece.” The figure that towered above him was an uncanny, composite blending of man and the supernatural, though the long, hairy limbs suggested a gorilla and the body a monstrous toad. The leering eyes possessed a snake-like fascination. The molding and treatment fit the figure were per- ■ feet, and the flesh fairly seemed to quiver in the flames that were licking Its surface. He was now working on the creature's face. He had painted out and repainted It a dozen times, for each time it strangely, resembled his own, though in which particular feature he was unable to determine. It bothered him. He paused a-moment and, stepping back a few paces, studied the face at-, tentively through half-closed eyes, tilting his head first to one side and then to the other. Was his imagination tricking him? No; the resemblance was undisputably there. But where. His countenance lighted with a revelation. It was the mouth! Like a spider pouncing upon an enmeshed victim, he seized a brush and petulantly dashed a wide daub of crimson across the offending feature. He was amused at the alteration and, with a grunt of satisfaction, drained a generous draught of absinthe —the seventh he had imbibed that day. Physical and mental excesses had reduced Diable to a wreck of his former self, and this slight relaxation forced him to a realization of his condition; so he drew up an easy chair before the picture and dropped languidly into its cushioned depths to rest a moment and smoke a cigarette before resuming his work. The tired mind and body soon succumbed to the influences of the absinthe and tobacco, and drowsiness overcame him. As the shadows darkened he sank into a deep sleep, ike half-burned cigarette dropped from his fingers to the floor and smoldered there, threatening to ignite the oily paint spattered about under the easel, but Louis slept on. Suddenly he started! The room was Ablas* with light! The Inferno wan 4

no longer confined to the canvas, but was spreading arcSmd him! The monster was moving and stretching a bony arm toward him. He heard the bones crack and the niuscles creak as the arm became released from its captivity. He sprang from his chair, horror-stricken, but was seized roughly by the» claw-like hand and hurled to the floor, where he lay, dazed and helpless. He tried to cry out, but the smoke and flames which enveloped him choked the, cry in his throat. The devil leaped from the canvas and 'danced before him, while its mouth widened into a ghastly grin. The crimson which Louis had dashed across It now began to trickle down the chin to the massive chest, adding a tinge of bipod to the spectacle. Louis gazed at the monster with conflicting emotions of rage, fright and disgust, until suffocation roused him to action. Then, with almost insane fury, he jumped to his feftt and grappled with hi*-tormentor. Ke fought him with desperation, as bacx and forth in the inferno they swayed and struggled together. The characteristics, Louis had so cunningly wrought in the demon now camfl forth in terrible reality. The crushing embrace of the gorilla arms nauseated him and caused his eyeballs to start from their sockets. He made superhuman efforts to extricate himself, but found that he was power? less to do so, pitted against such herculean strength. The heat of the fire was becoming so intense that Louis felt his flesh singe and crack, but the fiend only screeched and yelled exultantly at him in his agony.

Oh, God! Why had. he Invented this monster to wreak its dastardly work upon its creator! He could endure the pain no longer—it was consuming him —then came a lucid moment. The truth flashed across his brain! The struggle with the demon had been a cruel hallucination. His room was burning and he was perishing in the fire. He had realized it too late! A yawning abyss opened beneath him. All was darkness. He suffered n<f longer. He was sinking—sinking. In the Figaro next day appeared the following news item: - “An apartment building in the Rue St M was partially burned early last evening. The fire originated in the studio of Louis Diable, an artist, who, It Is feared, lost his life In the flames. The 'firemen are diligently searching among the ruins and debris for his body. The caretaker of the building says,” etc., etc., etc.