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“The most sublime art in existence, mother. Does " I should like to see my grandchild a countess." it not give the power of representing all that is most “I would rather see her happy in the station in grand and beautiful ? of perpetuating the noblest actions, which she was born.” and of preserving the most cherished forms and features, “She might be equally happy as a countess,” return. to say nothing of immortalizing the painter's name.” ed the old woman.
" And all that won't give us bread, Giacomo; and we “I desire no honor but that which talent gives," said can't do without that. Your father's dyeing brought us the painter. a hundred times more than your painting."
“ Talent cannot give you rank, or make you noble, “I am not a dyer," interrupted the painter, coldly. Giacomo."
" That is just what I complain of,” replied his Oh, grandmother,” exclaimed Mårietta, who had inother; “if you were, we should do better; as it is, hitherto been silent; " can you, the mother of the Tinwere it not for Marietta, we should not get on at all; toretto, say that talent does not ennoble ?" and how the poor child manages, I do not know, but “ Your father is not noble, child,” replied the pershe makes a ducat go farther than any one else can.” verse old woman; "he has no title.”
“But she is never at home, mother; why is she away “That is true, grandmother, but he has what is betnow, when we ought to be at supper? You should ter ; that which talent and genius alone can give,” said watch over her better."
Marietta, whilst some of her father's spirit flashed in "Your daughter does not want any one to watch her dark eyes, as she fixed them on the painter's face over her," said his mother, somewhat angrily ; "she is an with a look of pride and affection. " Venice is proud angel, and angels take care of themselves and of each of my father, and ranks his name amongst those of her other."
most celebrated citizens; and tell me, dear grandFurther discussion was prevented by the appearance mother, if any title of count, marquis, or prince, gives of a third person, whom Giacomo and his mother more honor than that of The Tintoretto ?” advanced to meet, as soon as they perceived her.
The painter gazed with deep admiration on his
child, as he listened to her enthusiastic expression On the flight of steps leading into the garden stood a of his own feelings: and, perhaps, enjoyed at that young girl, whose remarkable beauty might have moment the purest gratification his well-earned fame arrested the attention of even the most indifferent. ever afforded lim. Her figure was slight and graceful, and appeared to con- “Pooh! pooh! pooh !” said the old Venetian, as she siderable advantage in the picturesque costume of the shook her head incredulously; "your father may paint young Venetians of that day; a profusion of dark hair good pictures, but he is still the son of a dyer, and was drawn away from her face, and fastened at the mixes colors as he did; only he doesn't make half as back of her head by two large gold pins, leaving fully much by it as my poor husband did." displayed a forehead of marble whiteness, and features “Well, grandmother, dear, we will not talk any more whose perfect outline might have served for a sculptor's about either dyeing or painting,” said Marietta, gently, model, even in the classic land of Italy. A close as she perceived a cloud gathering on her father's observer might have remarked that her extreme pale-brow.” ness was unnatural in one so young, and that the deep “You are right, Marietta," said he: "tell me, instead, blue eye wanted the animation of youth, and had, where your brother is ; when I left my studio I went to instead, the thoughtful and anxious look of one who his, but he was not there; do you know where he is po had known something of the trials of life. As she per- The color again mantled on Marietta's face, as, with ceived the Signora Robusta and the Tintoretto, a slight some hesitation, she repliedblush for a moment dispelled the paleness of her com- "You need not be uneasy, father; he is probably out plexion.
walking with some of his friends." “Have you forgotten that supper is ready,” said she, “There is no harm in that, my child," returned her in a sweet musical voice,“ or has working taken away father; “I shall not blame Dominico for that; after your appetite, father ?"
working all day we need some relaxation : but, Marietta," “We have been waiting for you, Marietta," he he added, on observing her extreme paleness as the replied ; “where have you been all day ?”
color faded from her face,
ill? you look pale * At the Palazzo Grimani, dear father.”
and tired : what ails you, my child ?" "Marietta," said the painter, as he led his daughter Marietta raised her eyes, without reply, to her father's into the house, “you are no longer a child ; all Venice face; but as quickly withdrew them as she marked the is talking of the beauty of the Tintoretto's daughter! look of anxious inquiry with which he was regarding The Countess Grimani has a son
her. “ And if he admires our Marietta, he will perhaps “There is something I do not understand," resumed marry her," said the Signora Robusta, as she seated the painter. “ You have lost your gaiety, Marietta ; I herself at the table.
seldom see you now in the garden amongst your flowers : "I would rather my child chose a husband from you rarely touch your mandoline, or go singing about amongst her equals,” replied her son, as he seated him the house as you used to do; what is the cause of all self by her side; one who would not be ashamed to this ?" call me father."
A gentle knock at the door which opened into the
Atndio, gaved Varietta from the dificulty she might have yet slept in the Tintoretto's house, the door of a room found in replying to her father's inquiries. She rose was softly opened, and Marietta advanced a step into hastily to see who it was that sought adinittance. the corridor, and listened anxiously for a moment. Not
"You are welcome, Father Antonio," said the Sig- a sound disturbed the stillness around, and she herself nora Robusta, as a man entered, wearing the dress of might have been taken for some marble statue, as she the order of St. Ambrosio ; “ will you sit down and stood so pure and fair in the attitude of earnest atten. share our humble repast ? Marietta, child, why do you tion. not offer the good father a seat ?” added she, turning to “I hear nothing," said she; "he has not come home. her granddaughter, whose countenance plainly expressed | Oh, my brother! if you only knew the many weary that to her the visit was anything but welcome. Her hours I have watched for you !" grandmother's speech, however, seemed to rouse her; She then advanced cautiously along the corridor, des. and closing the door, she placed a chair near the table. cended the stairs, and gently opening the door of the The somewhat stern countenance of Father Antonio house, hastened along the street; only her light veil relaxed as he turned to her.
wrapped around her to shade a face which could other" Thank you, my child,” said he, as he seated him- wise scarce have passed unnoticed. Having reached self; and adding, “ do not let me disturb you, Signora the canal, her eyes wandered amongst the gondolas, Robusta, or interrupt your meal, Signor Giacomo; I which glided silently along, even at that hour, when have only come
most in Venice yet slept, and no sound disturbed the “ To pay us an evening visit, father” interrupted stillness of early morn, save the occasional splash of Marietta, as if anxious to prevent some communication the oars in the smooth waters of the canal, or the sweet which she seemed to fear their visitor was about to notes of one of the boat-songs so popular amongst the make.
gondoliers of that “City of the Sea." “I wanted to speak to your son, Dominico, signor," The young Venetian's quick eye soon ascertained that resumed Father Antonio, without heeding the inter- the object of her search was not amongst them; and ruption.
turning from the canal, pursued her way through the My brother is from home just now, good father," narrow streets or pathways. Suddenly, the sound of said Marietta ; " but he shall call upon you to-morrow, her own name, uttered close to her, caused her to turn if you will only name an hour; I will take care that he round. is exact."
“Dominico !” she exclaimed, as she perceived a youth, The good father shook his head.
whose disordered dress and heated countenance told “But Father Antonio can tell me what he wants with but too plainly how he had passed the night. “DomDominico," said the Tintoretto.
inico !" repeated the poor girl in a tone of mournful Their visitor was about to reply, when Marietta reproach. again interposed, and fixing her dark eyes imploringly " Well! what wilt thou, Marietta ?" replied the young on his face, she exclaimed
man, affecting an unconcern which he was ill able to “ He wants the painting for the chapel of Sta. Maria maintain; "you think I am a profligate, a drunkard, an dell' Orta. It is nearly finished, and if you will trust idle fellow !" to me, good father, it shall soon be in the chapel ; but I “You are worse, far worse, Doininico," said his sisinplore you,” added she, lowering her voice, " to say no ter, in a tone of deep sorrow; "you are an undutiful more at present."
son, an unkind brother." Who could have looked on the poor girl's pale but “Oh, stop, stop, Marietta mia! any thing but that. beautiful face, and have resisted the appeal ? Father I honor and respect my father; and as for thee, my Antonio marked the anxious look, and, rising from his sweet, iny gentle sister, I love thee more than thou seat, he replied
thinkest." " That is all I require—at least for the present !” he “If you love me, Dominico, you will come home added, with marked emphasis ; “but if I have not the with me." picture in three days I shall return, my chid. I know “I am ready, Marietta," said her brother, as he passthat charity bespeaks our indulgence, but when it ed his arm round her waist, and looked kindly on the is carried too far it becomes weakness, and is the cause sweet face and tearful eyes raised so sadly to his. As of faults and errors which a little firmness might cor- the brother and sister pursued their way towards home, rect. I do not say this for you only, Marietta, we all Marietta related all that had occurred the evening need the caution."
before. It was evident from the expression of Marietta's “ Father Antonio called last night,” said she; "you countenance that she understood him, and with this he may suppose how frightened I was, Dominico. If you was apparently satisfied ; and when he soon after left the knew the difficulty I had to prevent lis speaking of the Jittle party, Marietta saw him depart with more plea- money you owe him, and of the picture! I promised sure than she had shown when she admitted him. It it should be finished to-morrow; you must set to work seemned as though she had got rid of some great as soon as we get home, Dominico." anxiety.
"I must rest first, Marietta ; I am half asleep now."
“Sleep! Dominico : you will surely not be able to On the following morning at an early hour, whilst all sleep when time is so precious.”
“ You wi!! s5cu see if I cannot sižep, Varietta, an? "Iring your, manuuline, and sing to me a little this soundly too,” replied her brother, regardless of her morning, whilst I paint." anxiety.
Poor Marietta's countenance fell, as she looked timidly She paused an instant, and an expression of pain and at her father, and replied with some hesitationdisappointment passed over her face, as she replied re- “Father, will you excuse me—just proachfully
“Just what ?” exclaimed the impatient artist. “ You can sleep, Dominico, when perhaps this very “Just to let me finish my painting." evening our father, who believes you to be the best of Sing when I tell you, and don't talk to me of paintsons, and holds you up as an example to others, may ing." learn that the son he so loves, passes his days and nights “I cannot, sing this morning, dear father,” said the at a tavern; that the pupil of whom he is so proud, poor girl, as her eyes filled with tears. has, for the last year, scarcely touched a paint-brush; “If you cannot sing, you can play.” and has besides borrowed money for his unworthy pur- “Father I entreat you to excuse me this morning, I suits, which he has no means of paying. Oh, my have much to do." brother! Father Antonio is not deceived by my efforts “ Your first duty is to obey your father; your paintto save you from disgrace and from my father's anger. ing may wait. Painting indeed! I never heard of a Am I then wrong in trying to savo you, when you will woman who could paint; you had better leav bat to not save yourself ?” and the tears, so long repressed, your brother; so fetch your man loline, and do not started to her eyes. Dominico was softened, and drew make me angry." her close to him.
Poor Marietta saw that further remonstrance would “ Listen, sweet sister !” said he; “if I get no rest, I be useless, and being well aware of her father's impeshall be ill; and you would not wish that.” Marietta tuous and singular temper, she took the instrument shook her head, but made no reply. “Then let me go from its place, and seated herself on a stool near the to bed when we get home,” he added, entreatingly. painter. But her thoughts were full of anxiety on her “And the painting for Father Antonio?”
brother's account-his unfinished painting, her own “ You have done without me so far, Marietta, why promised portrait, and dread of Father Antonio's threatnot finish it? It will do you credit."
ened return; and ere she had struck many notes, burn“Impossible!” said his sister; “I am painting the ing tears coursed each other down her pale cheeks, and portrait of the Countess Grimani; she has advanced me fell upon the trembling hands which vainly endeavored some ducats upon it, and I will not remain in debt.” to comply with her father's commands. Could the
“You were wrong, sister, to borrow money on your painter have guessed at all his gentle and innocent child painting; if I did so, it was because I had debts to was suffering, how different might have been his conpay."
duct! But, thinking only of himself, and yielding to Marietta colored deeply at the unjust reproof; but the fiery impetuosity of his temper, he angrily approachreplied gently
ed her, and seizing the mandoline with one hand, he “And I had to provide everything at home; my threw it to the other side of his studio, and taking Marfather seldom gives me any money, and how am I to find iettta's arm with the other, he led her to her room, and bread for all? I have no one to help me."
closing the door as she entered it, forbade her again to Dominico's heart smote hiin, as he heard these words, appear in his presence. Marietta heard the key turn in and thought of the share he had had in the heavy bur- the lock, and as her father's footsteps died away in the den laid upon one so young. “You should have told distance, she felt that all had deserted her. me that, sister,” said he.
“Have I not often told you ? but, alas ! you would The painter returned to his studio, but his hand never heed me.” And the poor girl sighed deeply. trembled as he resumed his brush; after a while, how
Dominico made no reply, and neither again spoke till ever, he regained his composure, and was again wholly they reached the door of their own home; on entering absorbed in his work, when he was once more interit, Marietta turned towards her brother's studio. He, rupted by the entrance of his mother, holding in her however, took her hand, and kissing her affectionately, hand a letter. said
“A courier, on horseback, has brought this,” said "Adieu, my little sister, I am going to bed;" and she : as she laid it on her son's easel, and observing that without giving her time to reply, he passed quickly into he was almost too intent upon his work to heed her, a small room, which he occupied on the ground-floor. / she added, "shall I call Marietta to read it to you?” For a moment, Marietta remained where he bad left "Marietta !" repeated the Tintoretto, as the name reher, then, as if she had made some sudden resolution, called his hasty and unjust anger, “I do not want Marshe again moved towards the studio, but ere she reach- ietta." ed the door, she 'heard her father calling her by “What is the matter now, and where is Marietta ?”
said his mother, as she remarked her son's look of dis
pleasure. Marietta,” repeated the Tintoretto, as he stood be- “Marietta is in her room, which I have forbidden fore an easel, on which was one of his finest paintings, her to leave; she has disobeyed me, mother." his brush in one hand and his palette in the other; “Giacomo, you are mistaken, you have been basty;
Marietta would not disobey you; and if she has unin- “ The painting was paid for some time ago," said tentionally displeased you, you will forgive her for your Father Antonio. old mother's sake,” and as she spoke, she laid her aged Dominico could not deny it, but stood confused and hand on the painter's arm.
trembling, dreading further exposure, and conscious To avoid a reply to this appeal, the Tintoretto bast- that he had nothing to urge in his defence, and but litened to open the letter, and having broken its seal, he tle to hope from Father Antonio's indulgence. glanced at the signature.
After a silence of some moments, the Tintoretto again “Ferdinand II., Grand Dake of Tuscany !” he ex- addressed his visitor. claimed; “ a portrait painted by my daughter; he is “Father, with your permission we will leave this submistaken, he means my son, and summons him to his ject for the present; my son has done wrong, very court to paint his own portrait. Mother, call Dominico, wrong, but you may perhaps be inclined to deal he is probably at work in his studio, little dreaming of leniently with him, in consideration of a letter just the honor that awaits him."
received from the Grand Duke Ferdinand of Tuscany. As he spoke, the door of the studio again opened, and Read it, Dominico, it concerns you.” The young man Father Antonio entered.
took the letter, and having read it, he said, as he Pardon, my son; I have mistaken the studio," said returned it, “It is not for me, father, it is for he, as he turned to withdraw.
Marietta." “Come in, good father ; if you want to speak to “Impossible! Marietta cannot have painted the porDominico, iny mother will call him ; I also have some- trait alluded to." thing to communicate to him."
“Father, you are mistaken; my sister paints more The Signora Robusta left the room, and soon after- than half my pictures; she has worked to make up for wards returned, accompanied by her grandson, whose the time I have wasted ; she has done my work as well disordered dress and confused manner did not escape as her own, and has neglected her inusic, deprived herthe quick eye of Father Antonio: looking sternly at 'self of rest to paint portraits, by the protit of which we him, he said :
have lived. She earns more than either you or I, “I am come for the promised picture, Signor Domi- father.” He added in a tone of shame and humility; nico ; it was to have been ready for the festival of the “The Grand Duke's letter is for her, and she deserves Holy Virgin, which was celebrated soine days ago." it; where is she ?" Father,” stammered out Dominico, “I–I-assure “My child ! my poor child !” exclaimed the painter,
deeply touched, “I have been unjust. I sent her from “That a promise once made should be kept, young me; and punished when I should have rewarded, and man; but I release you from your engagement: keep the blamed when I should have pitied. Mother, you were painting and return the money I paid for it."
right; forgive me, and go with me to ask Marietta to “Paid for it!" repeated the Tintoretto, looking forgive her father !" angrily at his son.
On reaching Marietta's room, they found it unoccu
pied. “She may be in any studio," said Dominico; and Tintoretto, as he gazed in delight at the painting before the little party quickly followed him to seek her there. him. As the door was gently opened, the young Venetian Better, far better, my sun,” said Father Antonio; artist was discovered seated before her brother's easel ; who had hitherto been a silent, but not unmoved specone small hand held his brush, the other supported her tator of the scene. “She is a good daughter, a good head, and was partially hid by the hair wbich had sister, a good Christian; for her sake I forgive her broescaped its fastenings, and fell in rich profusion over ther, and may the God whom she loves and serves forher hand and arm, and even lay upon the painting on give him also.” which she was engaged. Had they seen her face, Marietta's future career fulfilled the bright proinise the hearts of both father and son might have been of this beginning. In accordance with her father's touched by the traces left upon it by anxiety, toil, and anxious desire, she cultivated her rare talent, and was watching. The gentle daughter, the loving sister, had celebrated as a portrait painter. The Emperor Maximiworked for those who thanked her not; serving those lian, Philip II. of Spain, and the Grand Duke Ferdinand who heeded her not. Well might the aged grand- of Tuscany, endeavored, by the most 'liberal offers, to mother rejoice, as the Tintoretto rushed towards induce her to settle at their court; but her devotion to his child, and exclaimed, as he clasped her in his her father led her to reject every proposal. He repaid
her affection by almost idolatrous tenderness, and could “My child, my angel child !”
scarcely bear to be separated from her. His love of his "My sister, my gentle sister!” said Dominico, as he art, and his pride of talent was fully gratified by her knelt at her feet.
fame as an artist; while his home was cheered and “My Marietta ! thou art a painter after all," said the adorned by her virtues and affection.
THERE had been a heavy shower. But the clonds | pillars written all over with lead pencil, spattered with were hurrying away, the sun was breaking out with a warm slops and stained with tobacco smoke—the very winlustre, and the whole earth was smoking with incense. dows, over which the wild rose yet clambered in large I never saw a more beautiful sky-every cloud was ragged masses, covered with a grog-score-green blinds a picture, every shadow a new transformation of the utterly cast away, and half-buried in the dirt, or hanglandscape. We were sitting together on a little wooden ing by one hinge apiece, and ready to drop at a touch bench, at the door of a one-story house, which had been or a breath, every creak appearing to be the last—the white, with a high, dark roof, and projecting windows— insignia of idleness and mischief, cut and carved all over now the porch of a country tavern, the ante-chamber what had been the portico of a tasteful habitation; of a grog-shop. I was leaning back, with my arms wretched caricatures, bad poetry, and worse whittling folded, and eyes half shut, now wondering at the beauty (where whittling is a trade)-profiles of nobody, with a and freshness of our New England scenery; now looking brush-wood or juniper wig-verses that rhymed everyout over the broad, far 'common, as level as a floor, where but in the right place—and great staggering inibesprinkled with mintature tents and booths, and all tials, no two of which were of the same size or shape, alive with groups of boys and girls; hardy, but rough though all appeared to be looking for partners, and five and awkward militia, in caps that were too large and or six, of a somewhat similar type, for each other, coats that were too small for them, a corps of artillery, though one-half were bnilt with the wrong end up,
and a circulating troop of wheelbarrows, and a squadron of the rest were shadowed contrary to law; and now horse; now studying the far sky through a glimmering hearkening to the roar of the waterfalls, which, as it curtain of hop-leaves, vine leaves, and flowering creepers, grew quieter and quieter abroad, began to draw near, that hung between me and the low sun—a part of the with a heavier and more sea-like roar. transparent foliage overlaying the rest with shadow, We were sitting together, I have said ; that is, we changeable, burnished, and dripping with large rain- were sitting back to back on the same badly contrived drops—a shower of “barbaric pearl and gold,” and let- bench; myself, a stranger, and my companion-I hardly ting the sunshine flash through, and play about the know how to describe him, otherwise than by saying ilwor, and over the white-washed wall, and the wreck that he was a very small man, who chose to wear of what had been the prettily-contrived and the prettily- a cocked hat, a leathern waistcoat, a pair of cowhide painted trellis-work of a flower-garden, at my elbow, shoes, with silver buckles, and blue yarn stockings as the live drapery broke and fluttered, and swayed rolled up over his knees, in the dog-days. How he this way and that, with every change of the wind; now contrived to occupy so much room as he did, was trying to make out the familiar history of what I saw always a mystery to me. More than half the bench did on every side of me-neatness gone to decay-white he take up, and that half—as some people do their part