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Updated: May 12, 2025
He had taken up his brush and was painting with swift strokes. The young man before him smiled a little. The dark, handsome face lighted under it and glowed. "I will do my best." The quiet irony in the tone laughed gently. Titian smiled back. "I forget that you are of the craft. You have too much of the grand air, Zarato, to belong to us." "I am indebted to you!" said the young man politely.
Tears waited behind the eyes and clouded the look of trust. "I could bear it if if Zarato was not my friend," he said as he turned away. "Keep faith while you may," said Titian, following him a step. "He who distrusts a friend lends thunderbolts to the gods," he quoted softly. "Remind him that he is to sit for me this afternoon," he called more lightly, as the other moved away.
"I cannot help it," she said; "it is the music." "Yes, it is the music," said Titian. His tone was dry half cynical. Her husband looked over with faithful eyes and smiled at her. Only Zarato had not looked up. His eyes followed the dancing leaden water. A flush had come into his sallow cheek. But the moonlight did not reveal it. Violante glanced at him timidly.
He had not removed his eyes from her face. Giorgione smiled. Then his face darkened. "My frescos! Oh, my frescos!" he murmured tragically. "But you will help, Zarato. You will not go paint for dukes and popes?" The tone was half laughing and half querulous. The young man roused himself and looked at him questioningly. He drew his hand across his eyes. "What is it?" he said dreamily. "What is it?"
Titian shook his head. "How should I know?" "He said he was going to you." "Zarato?" Titian started. "For the portrait He will be there!" Giorgione broke into a harsh laugh. "No portrait for Zarato!" He said it exultantly. "What do you mean!" "He bears a beauty mark." He laughed again. "You did not ?" Giorgione glanced cunningly about the studio. His big face worked and his eyes were flushed.
He picked up a small book and mechanically turned the leaves. The older man eyed him keenly. "Don't mind me, Zarato." He said it kindly, and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I have no right to say anything against her except that she's a somewhat fickle woman," he added dryly. The young man's eyes were fixed on the page before him.
He moved toward a canvas across the room. "But this " he laid his hand lightly on the frame "this was after Palma?" He turned his eyes with a look of inquiry. Titian nodded curtly. "It was the model partly," he said half grudgingly. "I know Violante." Zarato spoke the name softly. He hesitated a moment. "Would she pose for any one for me, do you think?" Titian laughed harshly.
"It is marvellous that trick of light," he said wonderingly.... "You must teach it to me." Titian laughed under his breath. "I learned it from you." Giorgione shook his head. "Not from me...." he replied doubtingly. "If you learned it from me, others would learn from me." He stood, looking up, lost in thought. "Where is Zarato?" asked Titian abruptly. Giorgione started vaguely.
Titian watched him closely. "You need not fear his not suffering," he said significantly. "Go watch through his window, or by a crack in the door." He waited a breath. "The man is mad!" The young man started sharply. "Mad!" repeated Titian. Zarato turned on him a look of horror and exultation. "Mad!" he repeated softly. The gloved hand trembled. A look of relief stole into Titian's face.
"A noble piece of work," he said. Giorgione nodded. "German and Venetian mixed." He laughed softly. "With three Venetians at the frescos we shall see, ah we shall see!" He laughed again good-humoredly. The boat shot under the Rialto and came out again in the clear moonlight. "To-morrow," said Giorgione, looking back, "to-morrow we begin." "To-morrow Zarato comes to me for his portrait."
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