Rensselaer Republican, Volume 24, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 September 1891 — HIS MYSTERIOUS MODEL. [ARTICLE]

HIS MYSTERIOUS MODEL.

He was the handsomest among the crowd that throiged the Artist’s Quarter. But who he was, or Where he came from, no one knew. He painted exqusite pictures which sold at sight. Wc soon grew to love the blonde giant, as one would a sweetheart. He was so kindly courteous, so truly a gentleman. He seldom smiled, and his eyes, of deepest violet, held always a woeful expression in their depths, That there was something strange about him, we realized from the first. At times he was the life of the party, and anon plunged into gloom from which nothing could arouse hinj. At such times he would lock himself in his studio, and no word or entreaty from any of us could call him forth till the lit passed. After these long seclusions he would come among us pale and enfeebled, and with an undefinable something about him which impressed us all, but to which none gave expression save the irrepressible Martineau. “Uh!” he said one day with a shiver, “you look as if you had been communing with the dead. ” The handsome race of Valette underwent a change as he replied, in his low, swttt voice: ‘‘Would communing with the dead leave its imprint upon a man’s face? “Unquestionably.” Valette sighed deeply, and turned away. In the course of the next six months there were to be three distinct art exhibitions, and nearly every occupant of the Quarter was engaged upon a picture which he fondly hoped would secure the prize, or at (east be hung. Such a rushing about for models, such a grumbling and fault-finding you never heard of. Valette, however, maintained his usual quiet, and when questioned as to his success in model hunting, ’ cured us that he had secured one in ■ every way satisfactory. Yet my | studio was squarely opposite his, and, watch as closely as I might, 1 neyer caught a glimpse of the Jmodel coming or going. My own picture was a court scene, where a young and lovely wife was pleading fqr the life of her husband, who had been sentenced to death. Everything was completed save the face of the pleader, and I was unable to find any model capable of assum ing the expression I was so desirous of securing. One day while lounging in Valette’s room I incidentally mentioned my difficulty. Lifting the lid of a great desk he handed me a square of canvas. “Will that be of any use?” was all he said. I uttered an involuntary cry of delight. The picture was painted with masterly skill, and represented a woman kneeling, with clasped hands and upturned face, at the foot of a breathcrowned cross. But the woman’s face made one give small head to the details of the picture. Suoh agonized entreaty, such almost hopeless despair in the dark eyes; my own involuntary filled with tears as I gazed. I saw Valette was regarding me closely, as I raised my eyes from the picture and caught the same look of hopeless sadness in his own beautiful eves ere he turned away. “You are welcome to make use of the face,” and he began painting as if nothing had happened. After that we grew to be close friends. Time sped on. One after another of our set finished their pictui ers and sent them in tb the committees. Some were raised to the seventh heaven by a speedy acceptance, while others were plunged into deepest despair by a rejection. I was one of the fortunate, and Valette informed me that all three of his were hung. He had not allowed even me to see them, and I was curiously anxious for the time to come when I could do so. I was early upon opening day, but as I examined picture after picture, I found nothing to especially interest me until I heard little Martineau’s voice exclaim: “Holy Mary! what a subject!” I quickly made my way to his side, and as I saw what he was gazing upon, I mentally echoed his words. _lt was a large picture of superb and gorgeous coloring. The background was a Inxuriant growth of tropical verdure. To the right the shining swells of the sea rolled in upon a beach "of “shimmering white sand., But the figure occupying the foreground subordinated all these. It was the nearly nude form of a superbly beautiful woman struggling in the folds of an immese serpent. One instantly comprehended the futility of the effort she was making but every sinew in one’s body tightened i n sympathy. Both white hands clutched at the monster’s throat, and the loathing horror upon her face told how she fully realized what must be her doom. Two folds of the gleaming body encircled her waist and limbs, ana the terrible head,'with distended jaws and” diamond bright eyes, gradually nearing her face. “Ughl Whatever possesses Valette to paint Such a picture? It is feo horridly realistic,” grumbled Martineau. “See, Webster, the woman’s face and form have already the hue ' of the dead.” It was so, and I shivered as I had in gazing upon a decaying corpse a few days before? I I did not ask my friend how he knew this was Valette’s picture, for there was no mark upon it. As I i gazed, the- conviction grew upon me

that it was, and as I at length tare myself away I re-eahed Martineau’swords, “Whatever possessed Valette to paint such hotrid things?” X returned every day to gaze upon it, and it indeed seemed as if decay had fastened upon the rqunded limbs and beautiful face, so perfectly was the hue of death depicted. I said nothing to Valette upon the subject, > however, but waited with impatience for the opening of the next month’s exhibit. This time it did not need Martineau to point out Valette’s work, though as before there was no mark by which to identify it. A wide stretch of angry, tossing sea, extending on all sides to a dull sodden sky, n® living object visible, but in the foreground the floating forpa of a woman, her dead face, with half closed eyes, gleaming ghastly white through the semi-gloom. Her delie ate, rounded limbs were half visible through the enshrouding waters, and they wore the same terrible hue of death we had shuddered over in the former picture. The coloring of every feature of the scene was so life-like, the outlines so perfect, that one could almost hear the swish of the waves, and catch the undulating motion of the dead. I went away more dissatisfied than ever. Who was Valette’s model? and how had he caught the hue of death which others found so impossible to master? At last the grand exhibition opened and I only paused to give a self-con-gratulatory nod as I saw „what an advantageous light had been given my own picture, in hurrying on to find Valette’s masterpiece. Worse and worse. Ugh! I shudder at the remembrance even at this late date, but among all that immense collection of pictures, there was none before which the crowd so persistently lingered. It was a second sea scene. Under, a glaring tropical sky, where sun gleamed like a ball of fire, floated a raft, upon a sea whose waves were copper hued and scorching. Upon the-raft were three human forms. One, a woman so grandly proportioned, so wondrously beautiful, that you distinctively envied djjath her possession. She clasped a babe lovingly to her bare breast, as if the mother love had sought even in death to prolong the feeble life. The other form was that of a man, as superbly formed and proportioned as that of the woman. Death had claimed them all, as was proved by their glassy eyes and upturned faces, helpless under the burning sun. Here again was the grayish pallor, horridly Suggestive of decay. As I gazed facinated by the very horror of the scene, a messenger put a note in my hand. It was from Valette, urging me to come to him at once, as he was ill. I instantly left the building, nor paused until I stood by his bedside. A Sister of Charity and an old graybeard of a doctor were in attendance. It was Roman fever, and would likely prove fatal was the verdict. Valette bore the sentence bravely, and then requested to be left alone with me. “I shall be delirious in a moment,” he said, grasping my hand eagerly, “so you must talk fast. Behind yon curtain you will find a large box of which this is the key,” pushing one into my hand; “take one look at its contents, and then see it laid in consecrated ground. When I am dead lay me beside it. Keep my secret—promise—promise. ” The last words came gaspingly, and ere I could reply he sank into unconsciousness.

I hastily recalled the attendants, then, with a pitying glance at the doomed num, lilted the curtain behind whibn I had never been, notwithstanding my intimacy with Valette: There was nothing remarkable in sight, save the box of which he had spoken. It was large, and stood upright against the wall, where the afternoon light streamed full upon it. Inserting the key in the lock, I quickly swung open the door. A cry of horror had near escaped me as its contents were thus revealed. Its sides were padded, and lined with white satin and costly lace. In the centre, in a kneeling posture, was the half nud® form of a dead woman. The original of all his horrible pictures I skw at once, for here were the superb limbs and wondrous beauty. Here was the model, about whom we had made so many conjectures.

The embalmer’s work had been skilfully done, but an unmistakable charnel house odor came to my nostrils, and I hastened to close and lock the door, destined never to be re-opened. __ I lost no time in seeing the fearful thing underground, although it was not accomplished without some risk, unlimited lying, and a generous use of gold. I then devoted myself to Valett’s care, and had the satisfaction of seeing him recover. Slowly, it is true, and with many relapses* but one day, six months latter, we sailed away from Rome together. In a long voyage around the world he recovered health and spirits, and the love he gave me fully repaid me for all the sacrifices I had made in order to be with him. ject of his model was mentioned between us, but one day, in the wilds of a Brazilian forest, he fold me a strange story of wrong-doing and sorrow. He had loved the beautiful woman whose form I had laid away, but she was the wife of another. In life he could not possess her,but when death laid his icy hand upon her, he had stolen her body away, and lived in its presence for months, half mad, and wholly heart-broken. He shuddered at the remembrance j oi those fearful months, wondering

■now, in his sanity, how he could evet have been possessed of such morbid madness, and he has never* since looked upon those terrible pictures.