Access Online - The European Library

148 ARIADNE.Golden HU1, but their master never came out tohear them, nor heeded that the summer drewnigh.Art is an angel of God, but when Love hasentered the soul,the angel unfoldsits plumesandtakes flight, and the wind of its wings withers asit passes. He whomit has left misses the angelat his ear,but he is alone for ever. Sometimesit will seem to 1dm then that it had been noangel ever, but a fiend that lied, making himwaste his yearsin a barren toil,and hisnights ina joyless passion; for there are two things besidewhich aU Art is but a mockery and a curse:they are a child that is dying and a love thatislost.Meanwhile she grew thinner and thinner andtaller still, as it seemed, and the colourless fairnessof her face had the paUid whiteness of thestephanotis flower,and she waslovely stiU,but itwas a loveliness which had a certain terrorinitfor those who saw her, though such were onlythe poor of the city." She has the look of our Beatrice," said onewomanwho cleaned the stone stairs of Barberini,