The Romance of a Painter, Chapters VIII-XIII [pp. 97-112]

APPLETONS' JOURNAL.
A MAGAZINE OF GENERAL LITERATURE.
NEW SERIES.]
FEBRUARY, I 879.
THE ROMANCE OF A PAINTER.
VIII.
" O work! to work!" was Antonio Bucca T. ferrata's brief reply to Filippo, as related
in the foregoing chapter.
Aided by a few peasants the Italians erected
their scaffolding in the old church on the banks
of the Salat, and made ready to commence work
on the walls.
"Filippo!" cried the patron, who had ascended the ladder and was engaged in making,
with the full sweep of his arm, a hurried sketch
of a large figure.
The younger of the Pedroja brothers, evidently the master's favorite, darted forward with
the activity of a squirrel.
"Look in the portfolio for' The Virgin, the
Child Jesus, and St. Anne,' from Da Vinci."
Filippo, perched high upon the planks, opened
the green portfolio already familiar to Laurens,
and, rummaging through its contents, soon came
upon the desired engraving, which he hastily
pinned to a strip of red cloth secured to the stout
uprights on which the scaffolding rested.
"Bien! " said Buccaferrata, with a glance of
approval, as he continued, on the upper portion
of the wall, immediately behind the choir, the
composition already begun.
What was that composition? Jean Paul,
unheeded by the Pedroja brothers, who judged
him incapable of rendering them any assistance
in their very complicated adjustments, stood riveted to the flags below, straining his eyes to the
utmost. But to no purpose: he comprehended
nothing of what he saw. Nevertheless, he felt
assured that Monsieur Antonio, who alternately
viewed the engraving hung up by Filippo, and a
sheet of paper, which latter, however, as seen
from below, appeared quite blank, was producing
something grand and beautiful. Ah, how he
wished that he himself were there instead of the
VOL. VI.-7
master, and, crayon in hand, attempting to make
a picture!
At length our Lauraguais stripling experienced
a sudden thrill. Light had broken upon him. He
became more attentive to the fascinating hand
that moved along the immense panel above the
high altar, and could read freely Monsieur Antonio's work-which, as at each successive mark
of the crayon it loomed up clearer and mnore
terrible before Jean's eyes, revealed all that he had
seen, all that he had felt, all that he had suffered
the night before. He shuddered at that unexpected vision of Hortette, but soon felt reassured
on observing that Gaspard's dead wife, instead of
lying on a peasant's couch, was borne in a shroud
by three men of kindly mien-particularly the
younger one in the middle-with long, flowing
hair, and clothed like the saints in the church of
Fourquevaux. One thing he remarked which
moved him to tears-groups of women weeping
at the extreme left of the picture.
Impelled by an irresistible desire to testify his
admiration of the master, the apprentice stole
noiselessly to the top of the uppermost ladder;
but, just as he was on the point of approaching
Antonio, his courage failed him. At that moment Buccaferrata, having sketched a rude copy
of Titian's "Christ in the Tomb "-save the
head of the dead Jesus, in the place of which he
had ingeniously substituted the frightful head
of Hortette-to complete the disfigurement of
the masterpiece, was studding the incommensurable sky with legions of chubby angels, floating
through the clouds with their diminutive wings.
"Is that where you are, my little lad?" cried
Buccaferrata, catching sight of the disconcerted
lad.
"Oh, yes, Monsieur Antonio."
"Hallo, down there!" he cried to his cousins, occupied in various matters about the church.
"What is it? ".asked Giovanni.
[No. 32.