Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

THE PEARL “You fell in a faint in the street as I passed, messer— What you call your- self?” “ _ “Jacopo Bandello, a painter, by your ladyship’s leave.” “Then my ladyship is graciously pleased . to see you in your senses again, Messer Bandello,” laughed the lady. “ Dio mio! Such talk we have listened to, I and Ma- donna Barbara, my nurse.”’ “IT talked,” faltered the artist. what, I pray you?” “Strange secrets—the quest of beauty, and of eating. You must have been starv- ing, Master Artist. Never mind—you shall 64 Of ~ be fed now.” She clapped her hands and a blackamoor appeared. She gave her orders in a low voice, and in a moment a silver salver with a goblet was set by the bedside. ‘““ Drink. °Tis a nourishing cordial, and later you may eat.” The artist sipped the spiced drink slowly. As its warmth began to filter through his starved veins he sighed luxuriously. ‘But why did you pick me up, ma- donna?” he asked as drowsiness crept over him. “ Could I leave a pretty boy to the ravens?” she said. amorously. ‘ Now sleep! ” , “What is your name, lady?” ‘“‘ Madonna Beatrice!” “The courtesan of Venice!” he gasped. Then: “ Oh, pardon!” “ The title shames me not. Sleep!” she commanded imperiously. There was no anger in her voice, and he sank back upon the cushion. When he came to consciousness again it was daylight, and sitting by his bedside was an old woman, dark-skinned and wrinkled, who nodded her head knowingly as his eyes met hers, small and~cunning, with eye- lashes that seemed to grow together. A hoarse chuckle came from her loose lips, and she qtivered in her chair. ‘“‘ My lord has slept well?” she inquired solicitously; but-he was conscious of her mockery. “Yes, I have slept,” he answered, and, flushed; ‘“ but I am no my lord, dame.” “No. Then ’tis strange, for none but OF VENICE. 483 lords have slept in this.bed. The favor of my mistress is not lightly bought. She . bade me watch you carefully.” ‘““Where are my clothes?” asked the painter suddenly. ‘What? You would rise?” the old wo- man demanded sharply. ‘“‘'Yes, and when I am dressed, let me thank Madonna Beatrice, and then I shall be going.” Zé ‘““Going? What for? You are to stay here. Come, foolish boy, do you not know what happiness is in store fer you? My mistress is weary of her lovers. She has taken a fancy to you. Do not be a fool and throw away your chances. Do nothing rash. Fortune as well’ as love is within your. grasp, and you will not forget the good friend who advised you,” she added cautiously, then tapped him familiarly on the hand. “If I were younger myself, who knows? But, there, I take my pleasure in seeing my mistress happy. Rise, if you will, and in the bath you will find new life.” A slave entered in response to the clap- ping of her hands, and she gave her instruc- tions. A heavy mantle was thrown about the artist’s shoulders, and he suffered himself to be led into the bath, to be bathed, per- fumed, and his heavy locks curled. With- out a word he allowed himself to be dressed in a perfumed shirt, in a splendid suit. A belt with a jeweled poniard was clasped | about his waist, and shoes of the finest leather set upon his feet. As the slave finished with him the cur- tains parted, and the old woman appeared again. She looked him over and chuckled in his ear. ' “ Do not forget ope who wishes you well. My mistress cannot but be pleased. She bids you breakfast with her now.” As they passed a long mirror, the painter started. There was reflected no image of a beggarly painter, with patched elbows and’ botchy shoes, but of a noble cavalier, who bore himself proudly in handsome dress. ‘“ My lord the unknown!” the old woman announced as she ushered him proudly into the room. The painter faltered, then calsed his head, and with the consciousness of his fine appearance stepped forward boldly. CELDOO© Co S Co mM