Rawlings Institute - Hits and Bits Yearbook (Charlottesville, VA)

Page 58 text:

X: Y 2

Page 57 text:

curiously at the artist's white, stonily calm face, but said nothing. Mademoiselle began to paint. Surelyno1e, if ever, the inspira- tion will be given meg I too have loved and lost. N Oh, God l she prayed, help me to paint 'Levels Despair' before I die. What the model must have felt I feel now. Help me to make the pictured face tell her story and minef' She painted steadily for an hour and laid her brushes aside. She dismissed her model, and when she was left alone, sank into a chair and gazed long at the picture. At last! at last! Her work was finished. The long wished for expression was there. All,-not one shade was lacking. Where was the joy that should have been hers? She felt it not. Oh, I,ove's Despair! Art cannot fill a woman's life. Love alone can do that. Nllhen love is taken til0l'C is nothing left. Oh, the wide emptiness of life without it, the wide emptiness that all the successes, all the triumphs of art could never fill. H It is perfect, she said, gazing on her work, but I have paid the price, oh, Levels Despair l Falling on her knees, she buried her face in her hands. IVithout was thc hustle and noise of ,l.'aris-wicked, restless Paris, within was quiet, and later, peace. An hour later the Professor entered the wtclicr. He entered almost hesitatingly. After his letter, he dreaded this first interview with her. He stood spellbound when he entered the room. Facing him was the picture on the easel, a masterpiece.. The face stood out from the canvas, warm and full of life. The mournful eyes gazed into his own as if asking, what is joy? The sorrow that too deep for tears lingered in the curves of the pathetic lips. It was a triumph of art. At last! at last ! he cried exultingly, f' you have won fame, fortune, Mademoiselle! NVhat! not weeping over your success? Arise, let me congratulate you l I-Ie endeavored to raise her from her kneeling position. In vain ! Her cheeks were cold with the icy hue of death, her lips speechless, fixed iu a strange, inscrutable smile. In the greatest alarm he carried l1er to the sofa and tried to rub warmth into her cold hands, pressing passionate kisses on her pale lips. Ybo late .' All was in vain. Oh, my God ! was it for this I sacrificed you? you, my best-beloved I Oh, speak to 1ne! speak to me l if just one word to tell me you forgive me for my great mistake ! Dead ! dead! dead l Like an echo came the question she had asked him, Is it worth the price? E. Ir. M. QE?

Page 59 text:

'HIGH .X R Y Nl ll 'll42'1'