There was one observable point, indeed, betokening that the artist

relinquished, for her personal self, the happiness which she could so

profoundly appreciate for others. In all those sketches of common life,

and the affections that spiritualize it, a figure was portrayed apart,

now it peeped between the branches of a shrubbery, amid which two lovers

sat; now it was looking through a frosted window, from the outside,

while a young wedded pair sat at their new fireside within; and once it

leaned from a chariot, which six horses were whirling onward in pomp

and pride, and gazed at a scene of humble enjoyment by a cottage door.

Always it was the same figure, and always depicted with an expression of

deep sadness; and in every instance, slightly as they were brought out,

the face and form had the traits of Miriam's own.

"Do you like these sketches better, Donatello?" asked Miriam. "Yes,"

said Donatello rather doubtfully. "Not much, I fear," responded she,

laughing. "And what should a boy like you--a Faun too,--know about the

joys and sorrows, the intertwining light and shadow, of human life? I

forgot that you were a Faun. You cannot suffer deeply; therefore you

can but half enjoy. Here, now, is a subject which you can better

appreciate."

The sketch represented merely a rustic dance, but with such extravagance

of fun as was delightful to behold; and here there was no drawback,

except that strange sigh and sadness which always come when we are

merriest.

"I am going to paint the picture in oils," said the artist; "and I want

you, Donatello, for the wildest dancer of them all. Will you sit for me,

some day?--or, rather, dance for me?"

"O, most gladly, signorina!" exclaimed Donatello. "See; it shall be like

this."

And forthwith he began to dance, and flit about the studio, like an

incarnate sprite of jollity, pausing at last on the extremity of one

toe, as if that were the only portion of himself whereby his frisky

nature could come in contact with the earth. The effect in that shadowy

chamber, whence the artist had so carefully excluded the sunshine, was

as enlivening as if one bright ray had contrived to shimmer in and

frolic around the walls, and finally rest just in the centre of the

floor.

"That was admirable!" said Miriam, with an approving smile. "If I can

catch you on my canvas, it will be a glorious picture; only I am afraid

you will dance out of it, by the very truth of the representation, just

when I shall have given it the last touch. We will try it one of these

days. And now, to reward you for that jolly exhibition, you shall see

what has been shown to no one else."




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