Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

\ THE PEARL What reception was he about to receive from the woman—that woman he had al- most forgotten? At the doorway he felt that he had been a fool to venture. He could purchase painting materials—only he had certain brushes with which he was familiar, old friends to his hand. With sudden resolution he climbed up the worn steps, circling the dark stairway which seemed to sweat forth the moisture creeping up through the ancient walls. The door of his chamber was open. The room was. strangely dark. He stepped across the threshold and drew back with a shudder. In the center of the bare floor upon a low, wooden bed lay a white-sheeted figure, at the-head of which candles burned with guttering wicks. There was a strange Moisture on the stone floor, and in a worn depression a little pool of water. He drew a long breath and stumbled forward. For a moment he dared not look closer, then with trembling hand drew aside the sheet and looked down upon the face of his wife. “ Die mio!” he gasped. Her eyes were wide open, staring up into ’ his with an intense questioning. With a shudder of horror he let fall the sheet. The air of the room was chill and damp. An odor of death was in his nostrils. With groping hands he gathered his paint- ing utensils, and, hastily laying a handful of money on a table by’ the door, fled as one accursed. As he ran down the winding stair from a half-open door he heard the murmur of voices and then the sound of his “name.. He paused and listened. “The devil must have taken him, for he is gone, no one knows where, and the wo- man drowned herself. There was not a crust in the room to feed a dog on. My son Tito helped to pull her out—”’ He slunk down, creeping by the wall, and out into the sunshine. As he walked briskly he felt his terrors abate. He stopped to buy a canvas at a store which had no acquaintance with him, and jested with the merchant. Anna! It was foolish of her to drown herself; but no man could say that he was to blame for her madness. He had meant well. He had intended giving her some of his ducats. By the saints, he had meant no hurt to her. ‘no kisses for your mistress? OF VENICE. 485 By the time he had reached the gateway of Madonna Beatrice’s lodging he had per- suaded himself that he was innocent of all blame. It was a pity, but it was done, and all for the best for each, no doubt. Their love had died a long time ago. Madonna Beatrice welcomed him back as though he had been gone for years. “T thought I had lost you, my gallant,” she said again and again, “ and that some other woman would get you.” “There is no other woman,” he assured her, and shuddered as he remembered that this time he did not lie. ‘““ Where have you been?” she asked, sniffing daintily. ‘‘ Your clothes smell of damp, of the river, mio caro.” “You are dreaming, surely,” he an- swered, passing his hand over his cloak with a hasty gesture. He sighed with relief as he found them dry, as he knew they were. What foolish fancies were these? - “ It is strange, but I could have sworn it. Come! Off with this dull suit. I do not love you in somber plumage, my little love- bird. To-night we feast with music to woo — our senses.” ‘“‘ And to-morrow I may paint, beloved?” She shrugved her shoulders, then laughed gaily. | “What can I do with you, my ‘lord? I must obey you now in all things. Have you t is well seen you must not go adventuring, if you return so forgetful. Persuade me now that you have not forgetten how you love me.’ They feasted fhat night with music. Madonna Beatrice’s dwarf played his mer- riest pranks before them. Monna Bar- bara told tales of frail’ ladies and bold lovers, of sorcery and matters magical, till her mistress told her: “Enough, dame; would have us dream- ing the night long?” It was long past midnight when silence fell upon the house. All was dark in the sleeping chamber but the little silver night- lamp burning over the couch, lending deeper darkness to the outer shadows of the room. Beatrice moaned in her sleep; then sat up suddenly with a clutching cry of terror. ECoOnniclboooks Co mM