THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 60, 20 July 1907, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

;f . LA VIOLETtE. fj .' o—* If, A spring morning in Sicily, with the pwiutrar of Palermo lying like a sheet ot gold beneath a sun whose rays ||iftll with an intensity strange to JEngIpjtglsl, Away out on the bosom of the Wj|g' icat the purple cone of Mount l\.- ;*? Jmino, it> verdne-clad slopes showing ¥t3s&] through the filmy mists of the

ff ' BWmßf. t. . Theßtrada Garibaldi was like a garden m gorgeous bloom; quaint garbed '. Mermen of the bay; fruit hawkers with ' their queer yellow caps bobbing like stray u daffodil* in the wood; picturesque peasVauie l *»' >i "g mule* laden with olives to - tile market, and the inevitable tweed--1 «Ud tourist; Baedeker in band, and neck •wry. Two Englishmen were strolling along the sunlit pavements. "Then K'b not a case of lost inspira- -■' tiori, bat can't you find your beauty, eh, *>• Wihont" '-' . -ExaeUy!"

t - "My dear fellow, I could give you a ". ~ tenia of handsome girls in Palermo, fur the city contains the pick of Sicilian beauties. It shelters U 1 am much afraid, Hanbury," inter

mated Ms artist friend, "that your definition of beauty is the orthodox one—merely facia] reproduction, and nothing man."

Brace Wilton had left England a

month before for the purpose of painting what be intended should ne his best can

C* ' van. Be bad resolutely turned his back ,"' • .am artist-ridden Rome and Naples, to p*-• a*fc fair ffieOy for inspiration. Now a . dilemma had arisen through his inability

to find a model for his central figure. He had gone forth with a mind not quite f-.r. - t in harmony with the glorious morning, .-j and found himseO face to face with Barclay Hanbury, an old London friend, * '• Who was doing Bouthern Italy, and had ► .•■' that monang com* across from Lipari. Tb» surprised greeting over, Hanbury ; '~' had abetted the reason for the other's downcast mien.

"What it the title for your new pic tare*" he asked, after his enlighten

"I shall call it The Refusal,''' replied ' • Wilton. "A young Sicilian boatman has Just proposed to milady, bat she wishes to remain free a little longer, and she haughtily rejects him—eyes Sashing a S. whole world of scorn and contempt, with |.. the veriest trace of amusement at the

§? fellow's insolence.'' ■/,:■ "And yon mean to tell me that you rjii.' 'Tea* aces all the flower girls at the VicEmmanuel Fountain without finding '■■ if: foot dream in the flesh?" ',:" "Oh, that's pretty enough, 111 admit, £■ ' Tail my modal must be a woman of character—of fire."

Hanbejy nodded. "ft h fairly evident, then, that you -tan. act Ken la Yioletta" %, £~ ' "La VMette! Who b she!" h- "She b the girl you want, Wilton; the Vf- handsomest creature in »U Sicily—and ££. that counts for a lot la this land of searj/ let Up* and ant-brown cheek. Remem ~"' her, thb b not my first visit to Pjder■o, and If I don't understand the psy•g . caology of beauty as you men of the brush, I know a good-looking woman Jgj? when I meet her. Xow, La Violette ?is sbri perfect in face and figure. §p W* I ,te>l yon she's your missing mo-

Indeed,'' laughed Wilton; "and km b thb Sicilian Venus to be ■nor"

5*514 *BeJßiig flowers by the big fountain ''* ffipMffe the Hotel Vesper. Her badut Cjphiu the finest blooms in all Paler"f&Wlb'mi every tourist patronises her." -'.Tt shall be your eternal debtor, mv V aenrHanbary, if La Violette proves to be :- the gH lam In search of." £-' yt* has. all, and is all that you re- >.. intEre!" was the reply; "proud carriage, \ r bugbty disdain, dramatic presence, eyes * '■ Bashing eontempt for lore-sick swains. .'-■,'••. £h* wonld make tie fortune of a mana--Mr if ale' took to the stage, La Violette » too food for Piccadilly and its shining aoNesy erfUes. Pant her, my boy, and fay the Salon. AnotheT moment and yon wiD see her." The two had now turned into the \ open space in the centre of which stood '■"• the Victor Emmanuel fountain the water kw-*>bihiag cool to the marble basin be- "•* asatlL

Bound about the steps of the fountain were chjsterefl a score of Sower-girls. j> -fame woe kneeling down, their liliies. I** wild sena, and roses lying on the stones, to he tied into bandies and arranged in the long ,nat baskets; other sewn were doing a brisk business with '-' the early passers-by. The rainbow-hued -V anstimiei stood the pure'marble background. With her I back to the two men, a girl sat apart ■—-:JiOHi her abters. "That's La Violette—the one turned away from us," said Hanbury. Even at that distance tbe artist's trained eye noted the symmetrical outlines of the girl's figure—they seemed to promise perfection. A young dandy, fitting from one to another of the chattering group approached the sitting girl and said something in an undertone to her. La Violette looked up, and Wilton had Us first glimpse of the-lovely pro- •* fie. An exclamation, wherein blended gJilnUnn and incredulity, bunt in vol•atarfly from him. A wealth of coal Meek hair with eyes to match—eyes that eonld look dreamily, yet held in their depths the power of the lightning flash—natures like those of a goddess risen from out of the Anrgean deep. "By Jots! Hanbury was right" In this girl was centred the ideal creation of hb urtbtfo brain. The young dandy was very much mortified by tbe reply Co his whispered request) accompanied, as it was, by a bewftehbf smile, which revealed the pearb within. La VMette still he held aloof as the two Eagbhmen approached the fountain, to tad themselves with a dozen baskets bald afflirburly out to the. The artist's ayes never left the girt. "I do not want any fruit suraorinas,"

»ke cried; then lie glanced quickly at La VMette'a bukei "I want to buy some -- row ye'low roses. Who has any yellow roces!" "VWette!" called one of the girls. "Barken to the gignor; where are your cart, child f The English lord wants some ytUow roses." With a few graceful step* Wilton advanced* "You will spare me a few of those blooms/wOl you not?" he add, with aasnranto* Slowly the big black eyes turned full upon bin. "The me* are not for sale to the sigaoT" i "How rleh her voice!" he comment -

ed. * "Just • bunch! T can hare a few -; mrely!" pleaded Wilton. f* Again that half-eontemptnous smile. - "The slgnor it not the only Knglish- ' man who has been disappointed. Ido »; not sell my wares to the foreign gentle"Why the veiled sarcasm!" thought the would-be customer. They think the spending of a few lire • give* them the right to pay me brainless compliments. TSo, signor, I cannot part with my roses. Try the yejow ceranium of Shetta's. there." 1 Brace Wilton looked qnesWoitfrg!y|Bt Us companion. What sort wwd.^P* 1 | ttts who dM not trade with BnjriisrNntn -1 with money to spend? •) "ft* no good you attempting- to.se--7 enre any flowers, I suppose, Hanbtfry?' . C The other laughed and shook his head. ' "I thought I 'lad seen tourists buying from the signorina. It appears that 1 * hare been mistaken," was Banbury's rejoinder. "Kb* one, Violette: then the -ignor will give you ten lire for it," cried Sis'u etta, a big-boned girl, with the skin of a a Oastflbsn gipsy. * The black mass tumbled over her I ■boulders in a glorious cascade, as its owner turned disdainfully upon the

«pa*ker. "No, I'will not speak to deprive you v of yoor rights, SUetta. I will give him B row, however, and he ean tell all Palermo that La Violette has kissed it," and the caught up one of the great yellow globes from her basket and put it to her r lip*. There, come, aignnr!" Taking Wil ion by the eolhr. she drew the «tem through *k« buttonhole. "H«. hj»!" she I laughed; "now yon can go and tell your ' friends about the rose." "A prettr piece of news for fiiovnnnl!' WM the err of the interested waMi"Bah! A fhr for Giovanni. TSTnt no I mi* for him, or anyone else in Paler-

WHh thin retort, the girl turned fo arrwrmi her flowers 9<rain. TTflr minner -, m«de It dimenlt for Wilton to b-o-o-li fh» Unbieet which htd VoiitV him (o th"

| ' fewnfufoi Tnwo-d'r he liior th->t. ■•i»»li ..J TM'v »nd •■ he rm"V be ""-1.1 *? ■•vw ««.? » m-1 of «n»b U,.lr -« t'-e [ *** who stood «J nonchalantly More r - Vm Jut now. He grew bolder as the

others, knowing the folly of matching lb. niselves against the sharp tongue of La Yioeltte, turned away to ply <their trade.

"I want to ask you something—may I!" he said, in a low voice.

"Well!" came the uninviting reply. "I am an artist. I have come to Pal- [ ernio to paint a picture for a great exhibition. There is one thing wanting to make it the best picture I have ever done —the figure of a girl. I have found that girl."

•I understand, slgnor; but why do you tell me this!"'

"ilecause you are that girl, and I want yon to sit for me. I would give one hundred lire. Will you ?" A strange look was in her eves as she looked across the bav, to where the Unteen-sailed feluccas danced in the flamc-coored glory. To her expectant questioner it seemed an age ere she spoke. "Slgnor. 1 ennnnt do what yon ask."

"Cannot! Why! - ' [ "I cannot tell why. so do not ask me. You will find other girls who will sit for you. See!"— with a wave of her hand "there are plenty of them." "You are the only one who would do for 'TV Refusal'—"that is my new pirhue," he explained. "People say that lam a good judge of your sex. lie that as it may, yon are the most beautiful woman I have ever met."

Not a semblance of a blush tinged the cheeks of the daughter of Sicily, and Wilton realised with extreme disappointment, that any attempt to weaken her resolve* would end in failure. "Addio, signorina!"

"Addio. ?l^nor!" And, seizing Hanbury's arm, he strode lapidiy away from the fruntain. For t. few minutes they walked on in silence, then Wilton spoke. "Hanbury, I will paint that girl. I shouldnt find a more perfect model in Europe. I swear she shall sit for me." "I wish you joy, old man. La Violette is as difficult to manage as she is i beautiful to look upon," was the other's [remark as they parted.

n. In the evening Wilton left his studio In the Alhergo di Celini and walked through the cool groves of the Caprean hardens. High in the purple dome of the heavens rose the moon, splashing the waters of the bay with silvern ripDies, and soen from out of the night came the revelling star*. Stopping to lisht a cigar. Wilton fancied he saw a shadowy form dart into the shrubberv as he half-turned. Strolline a little further, he suddenly wheeled round and retraced his steps. He was nVlit. About fwenh yards ahead appeired a man, clad in a coarse flannel shirt and trousers. The face was hidden by a drooping felt hat, giving him a most villainous appearance. As Wilton passed the man drew to one side, deeper in the shade, and gave a low cough. "I would speak a moment with the signer."

Wilton stopped, eyeing lib man in the gloom. He saw a pair of shifty eye 9, set in an evil face, which a livid sear on the left cheek failed to improve. "Well, what is it?" 'The signor must beware." "What of!" "Myself—Giovanni Latta. It would be well for the signor if he ceased to visit the flower girls at the Emmanuel Fountain." The ruffian had advanced into the moon ligh', and his evil eyes leered viciouslv.

"Indeed! And why should I beware of so doing!" "Because the girl you addressed—the beautiful La Violette—is mine, and shall wed me. Wed me!—do yon hear?" The calm mocking smile on the face of the other maddened the Sicilian.

"Curse you, you smooth-tongued foreigner! who wishes to paint my queen. Hear me! If you seek to take La Violette from me, I will kill you, for I have sworn to wed her!"

Giovanni snapped bis fingers frenziedly in his wrath.

"Look here, Giovanni Latta if that is your real name; it's my turn to warn yon." Wilton had dropped his banter for hard, cutting words. ""Keep you ban-ditti-like threats for your friends. Steady there! you greasy scoundrel!" as the other's hand sought his sash; "you'll find a Smith and Wesson far quicker in action than any Sicilian stiletto, so stop your little tricks, once and for all, or you'll run up against trouble sooner than you dream of." "Per Baccho! I swear " •'You can swear by whom you like; but if you're not civil, 111 knock you down."

Snarling like a beast, Giovanni crept up to the Englishman, as if to spring upon him; but there was a look iu the cool grey eyes which boded ill for him, should he make any such attempt. "Sow march, my friend, and remember what I have said," and, without further delay, Wilton left the muttering ruffian, who quickly slunk into the shadows of the night. As Wilton turned into the Albergo di Celeni, a figure glided out of a doorway to his side. "Signor! signor!"

It was La Violette, pale and lovely in the moonlight. Wilton gave a cry of astonishment '"Signor, this morning you asked me to sit for you as a model." She spoke quickly, laying a band on his arm. "I did, and you refused." "Do you still wish me to sit. signor?" "Yes."

"I have waited to tell you that I will sit for you. I have thought it over." "Good. lam honored signorina. I [promised one hundred lire, did I not! | And you shall have them."

The artist could hardly express the satisfaction which was his now.

"It is not the money, signor. lam glad, indeed, to sit for you. When will you paint me!" "We will start to-morrow. Hurrah! The Refusal' shall be the picture of the year, because you will be in it. Till tomorrow, signorina, till to-morrow!"

A month's work with the best model Wilton had ever painted, and 'The Refusal" was finished. As he stood brash in hand, regarding his work, Wilton inwardly congratulated himself upon the finest production he had ever done. The picture for the next Academy was one to make the critics rave aud the wealthy patron to long for. His satisfaction, however, at his success was secondary to another thought, which bade fair to fill his whole mind. During' the long aiti tings in which La Violette had posed, with the easy grace of the professional model, he had Income gradually aware of something more—something which had prompted the girl to sit for him after a deliberate refusal. Scarcely a word beyond the daily greetings and his directions had been exchanged, yet Wilton knew better than words could have told that La Violette loved him—loved him with all the strength of her passionate Southern nature, it was her first dawn of admiration for the artist that struggled with and conquered her inborn pride after he had suggested the sittings, and the haughty barrier had gone down before the flood of love that went out to the painter. Fire and disdain had fled, and in their place reigned a new love, which caused her to blush at his criticisms like an untutored child of the

hi Is. And Wilton—what of him! At first he felt a kind of complacent satisfaction at the trend of events. It flattered his pride to have stirred this latent passion: but soon this feeling gave place to a deeper one a* he realised all that this mi°ht mean to him-thU outpouring of a first love from the beautiful daughter of Sieilv. He had not been troubled by

C.iovani I.stt# since the night meeting in the Capreati hardens, lmt he learned that U Violette had been the recipient of vengeful threats, to be executed if she continued her visits to the artist's studio. i •'!* Viojette. come. look at the picitnre' What do von think of it!" said Wilton, triumphantly, as he faced the ens* I '. L "Tt is wonderful, slgnon bnt I am no. so beautiful as that!" •A thousand time* more than my poor powers run depict, Violette. There is th.it in your face which greater men ih-n f could never convey to canvas— I a tight in your eyes Wn of something jrreit»r than beauty." The srirl was silent. Tn the growing gloom Wilton drew her nearer to him. "Violette. do you know what it means now my picture is finished? Tt means that ! must leave Palermo." "T>>avc Pah-iim-and —" i "You. Siimnriivi. 1 owe you a very ■ ffrcat debt—a debt which monev pavs but partially, for 1 believe The Refusal' . will make v.c famous." r "[ am irl'd, -i'_ni»r."' said tbo t'irl.

sfinnlv. "Von hive Im>«ii very patient .-i'h ii-e and T will not <->':o your him ,l r -rt lire. fill, the iov il has given iy>< i.. sit fir von! I don't think you eat know how much." I'ho look and words combined to ban

Mi any lingering doubts in his mind, and

he became transformed into the ardent wooer. Bending swiftly down, he pressed the first kiss upon those scarlet lips.

"0 signor!" and the trembling form nestled close to him.

"Violette, hear me! I love you, and t believe you love me. I cannot leave you! You must come to England and share my fortune, for it is you that will have made fame possible. Will you

come my Sicilian love?" The burning words poured unchecked from his lips. "Tell me that you love me, Violette, and will return with he I" '•1 love you and cannot live without yon. Kiss ine! Again!—all, your lips are sweeter than honey. Your arms are the bind of my slavery, and they arc sweet! You are my king, the keeper of my soul, honor, and life! lam all yours for ever!" How this heaulilul creature loved him! What joys unspeakable for the future seemed to hold! Mow different to the hundreds of Society's daughters he had niet, their power of affection frittered away in countless flirtations. Here was ; virgin bud from the lovely garden of •Sicily, not a faded flower, tarnished by the contrast of a cvnical and materia"; world.

■ "To be my wife!" he said fervently. I "Your wife! How swecf that sounds! The light of my life would have gone lout if you had left. Now 1 shall go to your land and work for you—if it aliouhl iJlnppen. die for you!" and she put her face, wet, shaking, tremulous, but full of love, to his."' ' "My love, in my country we do not; want a woman to work for us. We ITa! what is it ?"

The he heard what the girl's quicker ears had caught, the sound of footsteps mounting the stairs without. Into the lovely eyes crept a look of 7ear. "Tt is lie—Giovanni, come to kill me! r know it! 1 dreamed last night I should die by his hand. 0 signor, signor!"

"Courage, child! He shall not harm you! I will give this murderous lover of yours a lesson he will never forget. Ouick! he must not see you! Get behind the picture—that's it!" and Wilton pushed the easel deeper into the gloom. As he did so the door was thrown violenlv open, and Giovanni Latfa stacacr-

"d into the room. All day he had been drinking the vile Sicilian brandv. and his blood was aflame. In the waning light he looked more of a fiend than a man.

"There yon are. then, you cursed Englishman!" he said hoarsely. "How dare you force your way into my room, you drunken scoundrel?" deman lee'. Wilton. "What do you want?'' The man advanced, every fibre in his body pulsing with hatred. Two steps, "ml hj" started wildly back, as he found bim«elf face to face with the finished

canvas, the wonderful fidelity of the portrait holding him spell-bound. Then his face flamed with diabolical rage, and he turned snvncely upon Wilton. "Vmi English devil! You have stolen Yio'ette's soul!" lie screamed—"stolen her from me. and T will kill yon for it.'' He drew forth a stiletto, which gleamed viciously in the last rays of light illuminating the room. "Drop Hint knife, or, liv Heaven! I'll *hi>nt you like a doe!" cried Wilton. Then he paled—lie had not got hi? revolver.

With a madman's cunning. Giovanni understood. Triumphantly he leaped upon the defenceless man, and sought to bury the stiletto in his breast. Backward nnd forward they swayed, locked with awful tenacity. Strong and agPc as Wilton was, he was borne back by the frenzied onslaught of the Sicilian, from whom came blood-curdling oaths and threats.

Just as WiHon was about to grip his man bv the waist to throw him. his heel came in contact with the table. He tottered 'made a mighty effort to recover himself, but in vain. The weight of his adversary was against him. and he fell back upon the polished ton. then s'irl with a crash to the floor. The side of his head 'truck the floor jarringly, dazing him. A demoniacal glare leaped to Giovanni's eyes as he saw his advantage. This -urscd Englishman: he had him now! T'p dashed the stiletto. Tmpotently the man beneath tried to roll aside. The blade descended! Death by cold steel; but not for him! There came file flash of a woman's dmneries a piercing scream, and the stiletto plunged deep into the bosom of T,a Violette. who. emerging fom her hiding place, threw herself npon Wilton and the murderous Giovanni. The stricken irirl rolled upon her side as the artist struggled to his feet, while Ciovnnui, shaking in everv limb, stood staring at his ahastly handiwork. Tuto th» beautiful eves stole til" leaden ■rlnrr which hrraids the dread messenger, or. Wilton knelt bv the side of her who !>ad eiven her life for him. With the ruliv stream welling forth, the dving girl soncht to raise herself npon her arm. Oeiillv the agonised man sunnorted her. ''Violette! my love! my love!" "Ves; your love! Tam g'ad! tjuirk! kiss me! Ah!" A little moan, and the soul of the Sicilian girl had (led the darkened room.