excitement which failed to give a more intellectual character to his
countenance, sad evidence of a soul too feeble and infirm of purpose to
achieve eminence in any thing, and with growing alarm he inferred a
predisposition to mental disease from those morbid and uncontrolled
impulses, which delighted in portraying objects revolting to all men of
sound and healthy feelings.

He arose in evident emotion, and after pacing the studio some time in
silence, he approached Antonio, who, yielding to his eccentric longings,
had seized the sketch of the old woman's head, and was gazing on it with
evident delight. "Give me the sketch, Antonio!" resumed the painter in his
kindest tone, "'Tis finished, and the hunter cares not for the hunted
beast when stricken. What wouldst thou with it?" "What would I, maestro?"
exclaimed the alarmed youth, hastily removing his sketch from the extended
hand of the painter, "Finish the subject of course, and place this
wonderful old head upon the magnificent form to which it belongs."

"But, saidst thou not, Antonio, that the poor creature in the gondola
hastily concealed her features when accident revealed them, as if ashamed
of her unnatural ugliness? And canst thou be so heartless as to publish to
the world that strange deformity she is doomed to bear through life, and
which she is evidently anxious to conceal? Wouldst thou add another pang
to the existence of one to whom life is worse than death, and whose
eternal veil is but a foretaste of the winding-sheet and the grave? Thou
wilt not, canst not, my Antonio, make such unheard-of misery thy
stepping-stone to fame and fortune." This impassioned appeal to all his
better feelings at length reached the heart of Antonio. For a short time
he continued to withhold the drawing; but his kindly nature triumphed.
Tearing his sketch into fragments, he threw himself into the extended arms
of his beloved teacher, who with deep emotion placed his trembling hand on