Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 178: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

———— Pansat: nae 520 ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. whisper, or shift their eyes to one another to exchange comment, but with wide glances they stared on his work. ‘Then he saw the great arm of Sanseverino rise—saw his broad hand, all forgetful of reverence, clutch the shoulder of the pontiff—heard him say in an awful whisper: “It is enchantment indeed, but white magic!” “Hush!” said Leo. ‘“ Do not speak.. It is not a portrait of the Lady Beatrice or of any woman, but a greater thing: the god- dess of love herself!” Guido the irrepressible, the universal scoffer, his eyes shifted from the statue and fell upon Peter, where they lingered with a great awe. Then Peter heard the first truly audible sound. It was the sobbing of the Lady Beatrice. _ Then a member of the Swiss guard, a burly fellow, cried out softly in his own tongue. Peter became aware of a growing murmur. The spy-glass of Pope Leo turned from the statue to its creator. He was smiling graciously and nodding, and every nod spelt a letter of the word: “ Triumph.” “Peter, friend Peter,”’ whispered Gilford at the sculptor’s shoulder, ‘‘ you have con- quered again, and, like Alexander, there are no more worlds left for you. But what think you of me? There stands the loveliest lady in Italy weeping her heart out. I will not guess why, lest the guess should make me hate thee; but how say you, Peter, will I succeed as a comforter as well as you have succeeded as a sculptor?” “Go speak with her,” said Peter, out of an overflowing heart, “ and may God pros- per you!” And while the rest thronged close about Peter, Gilford leaned close to Beatrice, whispering. Sorrow unlocks the heart, and in the end Gilford indeed prospered. But Gilford, and indeed all the rest of the world, dropped for a time out of Peter’s consciousness. During a fortnight more he was busy putting the final touches to the Venus, but when that was done—when the marble was finally put in place and un- veiled, when the cheering had died from his ears and the last of the letters of con- gratulation answered—all else died out of his mind, and Sonia remained. He was content with all his big, simple heart. His turbulent past became a thing of little moment. To him this was the great adventure. See him again a month after the unveiling of the Venus, Peter a six weeks’ married man. g The summer days have come, and after the heat and dust of the workshop Peter takes a barge down the Tiber with Sonia beside him. The river is strangely cool and quiet; the creaking of the long oars as the two rowers sway rhythmically back and forth accentuates the silence. é Peter raised his hand. His boy, who crouches at the bow of the boat, strikes his lute and sings in a light, glad voice, which wanders far away across the black, sliding waters. He ceases; the tremor of the last chord struck upon the lute dies out. “ Sonia,” says Peter, “‘ all your life before I knew you is as unknown to me as this silence.”’ She turns to him”the strangely solemn face of those who are greatly happy. “Tt is too sad to speak of now. Some time I shall tell you.” “Not if it is a dreary tale.” * Aye, but that dreary tale took me from Poland to London, Peter. Is not this worth one unhappy year?” “From Poland?” he cried, and the rum- ble of his deep voice seemed strangely loud across the silent waters. “Yes. My father was a rich landholder. He would have had me marry a silly youth with a rich father. It is a long story. Finally I put on the dress of a singing girl and took a lute and wandered away from home.” She was silent. They heard the waters lapping in quick whispers at the prow of the boat. ‘ And wandered clear to London, Sonia?” “No. First I fell into the hands of a slave-dealer. He tried to sell me many times, but I was not pleasant to my masters, and they returned me to the slave-dealer, and so he was forced to bring me with him all the way to London.” She dropped a hand over his great clenched fist. “You must not be so angry, Peter. All comicbooks-com