Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

THE PEARL of Jacopo Bandello was secure for all time. He sank into the softly cushioned chair to gaze upon his masterpiece, and the falling shadows enveloped him as he slept. _ When he awoke he tried to rise and found he could not. There was a strange constriction about his>~arms and feet. He was bound to the heavy seat. He cried aloud, and the door opened softly to admit Monna Barbara, who smiled upon him hypocritically. . “You poor boy, so they have bound you.” “That you might not do hurt to your- self, Master Painter.” “Hurt? Am~I mad? donna Beatrice?” —__ “ Madonna Beatrice set out at nightfall for Venice. Did I not warn you, foolish fellow, that this would be the outcome of your heedlessness? A most noble lover sent to her a necklace of pearls, and she could not resist his appeal. So in the coach he sent hath she returned to Venice.” The painter uttered a heartrending groan. “Come, it is not so bad, Messer Ban- dello,’”’ said the old dame. ‘“ You have been living and loving like a prince for close on a month now. The comedy is ended. It is time you were going. You will be set free outside the garden walls with the suit you are now wearing and your painting uten- sils.” “And the portrait?” ‘That belongs to my mistress.” The painter sighed. The tears splashed from his eyes upon the puffing of his doublet. | “ Ah, it was true, then, that you loved the portrait better than the woman,” said the old woman not unkindly. ‘‘ Had you but played your cards, Messer Jacopo, you had made both our fortunes; you had been the lover of one whe was peerless and proud in her loving, master of her mansion and her slaves; aye, and my generous master, too, I warrant. But alas! See, I will do you a favor, then; I will have the portrait wrapped and sent down with you.” Messer Bandello choked. “Of your kindness, Monna Barbara.” “There, I knew we should come to a Where is Ma- OF VENICE. 487 bargain,” cried the old woman, and clapped her hands. Two black slaves entered, and the painter was carried and laid outside the fate. He lay there till they returned bear- ing the canvas wrapped in a heavy cover, and then his bonds were cut. ‘ With stumbling feet he went from the tomb of his happiness. He felt in his pockets and drew out a scant few ducats. He laughed harshly, then shuddered as he thought of the noisome lodging that would be his hence- forth, then started with sudden eagerness. The duke! He must to the duke with the portrait. Surely the canvas must win favor, ' and favor that spoke of ducats, many ducats, perhaps. And had not the duke himself hinted at the subject? Carrying his canvas, he hastened to the palace. A ducat to the guards and he was admitted instantly to the antechamber. As luck would have it the secretary was there, and drawing him aside, he whispered his errand in his ear. | “‘ Madonna Beatrice herself! Mark you, there is wealth for you, too, my good friend, in this. Let me but have audience with the duke.” The séCretary hesitated; then hastened within, to appear again beckoning warn- ingly. “He is in ill humor. Messer Jacopo.” “Not I,” said the painter proudly. ‘“‘ Mark my words, we shall sup together like lords to-night. Lead on.” The duke looked up sharply as he en- tered. “* Messer Bandello again. Well, see that you show us no paltry gear this time, or you hang. What is your subject?” ‘Tis the Madonna Beatrice, the Pearl of Venice,” said the painter. “Ha! You look well fed and gallantly clad. You have spent our five ducats roy- ally, then,” cried the duke shrewdly, “ and found beauty.” ‘“‘ Beauty, excellency, such as is given to few painters to set upon canvas.” ‘“‘ This is bold talk, that comes of fishing for pearls in the waters of Milan.” A sudden chill leaped upon the painter. The waters of Milan! Did the duke, then, Do not cross him, COMICEDOO© ‘eo S (C(O) mM