A Thorny Path | Page 7

indeed.
Never had he met so piercing a glance from any woman's eyes; and yet
they were red with weeping and full of tears. Bitter grief spoke in every
line of her still youthful features, and their stern, majestic beauty was in
keeping with the deep tones of her speech. Oh that he had been so
happy as to see this woman in the bloom of youthful loveliness! She
did not heed his admiring surprise; before acceding to his demand, her
regal form trembled from head to foot, and she sighed as she lifted the
shroud from her daughter's face. Then, with a groan, she dropped on
her knees by the couch and laid her cheek against that of the dead
maiden. At last she rose, and murmured to the painter that if he were
successful in his task her gratitude would be beyond expression.
"What more she said," Alexander went on, "I could but half understand,

for she wept all the time, and I could not collect my thoughts. It was
not till afterward that I learned from her waiting-woman--a
Christian--that she meant to tell me that the relations and wailing
women were to come to-morrow morning. I could paint on till nightfall,
but no longer. I had been chosen for the task because Seleukus had
heard from my old teacher, Bion, that I should get a faithful likeness of
the original more quickly than any one else. She may have said more,
but I heard nothing; I only saw. For when the veil no longer hid that
face from my gaze, I felt as though the gods had revealed a mystery to
me which till now only the immortals had been permitted to know.
Never was my soul so steeped in devotion, never had my heart beat in
such solemn uplifting as at that moment. What I was gazing at and had
to represent was a thing neither human nor divine; it was beauty
itself--that beauty of which I have often dreamed in blissful rapture.
"And yet--do not misapprehend me--I never thought of bewailing the
maiden, or grieving over her early death. She was but sleeping--I could
fancy: I watched one I loved in her slumbers. My heart beat high! Ay,
child, and the work I did was pure joy, such joy as only the gods on
Olympus know at their golden board. Every feature, every line was of
such perfection as only the artist's soul can conceive of, nay, even
dream of. The ecstasy remained, but my unrest gave way to an
indescribable and wordless bliss. I drew with the red chalk, and mixed
the colors with the grinder, and all the while I could not feel the painful
sense of painting a corpse. If she were slumbering, she had fallen
asleep with bright images in her memory. I even fancied again and
again that her lips moved her exquisitely chiseled mouth, and that a
faint breath played with her abundant, waving, shining brown hair, as it
does with yours.
"The Muse sped my hand and the portrait--Bion and the rest will praise
it, I think, though it is no more like the unapproachable original than
that lamp is like the evening star yonder."
"And shall we be allowed to see it?" asked Melissa, who had been
listening breathlessly to her brother's narrative.
The words seemed to have snatched the artist from a dream. He had to

pause and consider where he was and to whom he was speaking. He
hastily pushed the curling hair off his damp brow, and said:
"I do not understand. What is it you ask?"
"I only asked whether we should be allowed to see the portrait," she
answered timidly. "I was wrong to interrupt you. But how hot your
head is! Drink again before you go on. Had you really finished by
sundown?"
Alexander shook his head, drank, and then went on more calmly: "No,
no! It is a pity you spoke. In fancy I was painting her still. There is the
moon rising already. I must make haste. I have told you all this for
Philip's sake, not for my own."
"I will not interrupt you again, I assure you," said Melissa. "Well,
well," said her brother. "There is not much that is pleasant left to tell.
Where was I?"
"Painting, so long as it was light--"
"To be sure--I remember. It began to grow dark. Then lamps were
brought in, large ones, and as many as I wished for. Just before sunset
Seleukus, Korinna's father, came in to look upon his daughter once
more. He bore his grief with dignified composure; yet by his child's
bier he found it hard to be calm. But you can imagine all that. He
invited me to eat, and the food they brought might have