"A Paris Mystery"

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df nnif. ..saw rj,"7fi uga , ,, , Pratt serves leo-"1 - Pratt - pries! HI L'd.H pas;es. 'or ua estimates ; lc r w HO the In). who will In d-ilng will, be vuxat rt liy enr-vlmee. l-ned. 10 oents. CD, nilltF.AU, Mwli'. drtm. color Dun-draff. Kelp, and tt UN to the Kidney. he-i Erantione, or Lungs, t wait Tome t' '. si i PAEIS MYSTERY tllw Anther of "My Duoata and Jfg Daughter." CHAPTER 1 ' I am asked to set down, In order and de-r,i, all that I know relative to the affair of rho Passage de Mamrln, or, as it was com-iuonly called at the time, the "Crime of Oliristmas Day." This I can do very easily, since not only are the facts fresh in my memory, but I have also before me, as I vtrite, the various documents, newspaper extracts, etc., hearing on the case. I begin by telling how,' on the evening of Monday, the 84th of December, 186, about 8:30 o'clock, I left Girard's lodgings in the Euo Dauplaine, where I was then staying, and went to meet him by appointment at the cafe called La Source. The. night was very cold, nd I had been sitting without a fire: for -easons; coBscqaently I was not sorry when y-hlgh garret which was my temporary noiiio, lnsuiceoiinecoia.iQianoiHutemy raatcoat with me, also for reasons; andl-, jill remember how keen the wind blew, as I turned shivering tip the Boulevard St. Uichel. ' It was a wretched Christmas eve. :uow had begun to fall, but melted as soon as it reached the pavements, covering them with I slush that made the asphalt very treacher-is footing. No scene could have been incra cheerless-than the Boulevard that night; the Ink sky above, the dripping pavement beneath, the leafless trees, the falling snow I ohiver yet to think of it. . And no greatcoat! ' All the world at least, all the world of the Latin Qdarteiu-4mows the Cafe de la Source, ir. is one of the features of the Boulevard St I "ichol; and the Boulevard hcmle Miche, " a used to crll It affectionately in our student (fays is one of the features of the Quarter, luo cafe takes its name of "the Fountain" f-om a grotto fronting the entrance, with .mining water and little cascades that make :v pleasant, bubbling, r tinkling noise, not al together drowned by the rattling of domi-.:J8, the liabble of tongues, and the shouts of waiters. It is very agreeable, in summer, to 3't. outside on the pavement under the awa-l".g, and drink your coffee or your glass ot t rassburg beer, and look at the people going 0 and down the Boulevard. But it is, per-!iips, in winter that the cafe of La Source -jems most cheerful. You make but a step 11X1 light Within - Tha brilliant to :ir of comfort, the hum of talk and bursts of n lghter that reach the ear of the by-passer liese are things difficult to resist. You hear ue running water, and it lures you over the .".iroshold. . " The cafe was looking Its gayest and bright-t when I reached it that Christmas Eve. .nit I did not go in at once, for the same rea-,'ns that had deprived me of a fire and my creatooat. I had not a sou in my pocket. Girard, however, either was there or irould be very soon. I therefore reconnoltered, i.nd presently, the door opening, saw him siting at a table in the corner. He caught ight of me at the same moment, smiled and sckonedmetocomsin. This ! was only too iad to do. ... .. .', ' t Be beckoned me to come in. "To had on the talus befSrehim a cup of :'oand a big book; the ooffee untouched, :!'' nook unopened. "My dear Paul," he said, "you see I have :!itid for you. It is warmer here than at ,w line Dauphine, ehf waiter, another cup . i :.'iiee and a glass of absinthe." ' Your room, Raoul," I said, "reminded me , - night of Spitzbergen. I have not been oere, but I have been in your room and I -.now that I do not exaggerate. I think i ;rentz would have found your room cold." "You languish for the Rue de Medicisf f or ' vour mirrors and damask curtains and the .jorcelain stove V "I confess it But I am not ungrateful to t ho Rue Dauphine. It is at least a roof I" 'And we may enjoy the luxury of a fagot by-and-by." "Ah! I see you have got the bookr . Baoul gave a kind of groan as he pushed the Tohime toward me. "Look at that I" he ald. I looked at it. It was a bulky volume, in . : English, called "The Buddhist Belief;" the work of some English savant, whose name I e iuld not pronounce then, and have forgot-' tfa now. ' I opened it carelessly here and iihere, then looked at the number on the last , 'wge. ' I "."This is frightful!" I said, "460 pagesv and , llio type is small! How much time, Raoull". "Six weeks, counting from to-day." ,; "And how much money t" "Two hundred francs." . ' "That is shameful, it is criminal! Two hundred francs for translating a book of this uop-it is unheard ofl Anything paid in advancer ' Nothing. That's the worst feature of the Trn. il. Beauvais did not offer, and I could " pc t. bring myself to ask. I dare say, when i;- locked at my coat, ho thought ho risked - iw.igh inMtuig me carry the book away." "Vi ho is M. BoauTaisJ" ; "A member of 'thb'Ihitlrata, very rich, ap-t wcutly. He lives in the Rue d'Anjou, Fau-iwtirg at. Honore. IXoknowsall tlioenstern ' (.'uy.uagca, but does not read Englhh. So nuch Uie bettor for us. You must take your i-iinre of the translation, Paul; then we shall it in half the tiiae." "With all jnj hoart, Eut Vw a-o we to 1 I i -few- mm- 1 .ism Mmil live meanwhile? Can we exist for three weeks without food granting we can do it without fire? I have not a sou in the world; ' my wardrobe, my bijouterie, my books even my law-books are all at the pawnbroker's, and my allowance is not duo for eight weeks, I believe. Ton might as well try to bleed a stone as to extract money from my worthy . parent before the precise day and hour; and borrowing becomes more arduous everj day. That is my position. And yours!" - "The same exactly, my dear Paul, except that I have these two francs fifty centime which you see, and that no allowance comet to me at the end of eight weeks 1" - "Two francs fifty centimes! That will no tidn us over the three weeks until tills terrible , translation is finished. And how are we to I bay paper, pens and ink f ' . i ! Raoul did not speak for some moments ; he had suddenly grown thoughtful and serious. I We had been talking in a half-jesting tone, : but when next he spoke his voice was grave. ( "It's not the prospect of a little more cold ' and hunger I am thinking of," he said at last ; ! "no doubt we shall contrive to dine at least i every second day, and we can he in bed a good deal, as we have done before, tsw to- j. we4 is New Year's day." is unnstmas, ana tnis ..-WeuooM, you what that moans! n w v-.,. i v j love "AhMJabrielle! I aid not think of that!" "My dear Paul, you never thinkl That is why I love you. But just see how I am placedl You know that, if she chose if she took back her word to me Gabrielle might have presents dresses jewels what you will! And I I shall walk with her round the Boulevards; the windows are full of pretty things; she will scarcely look at thsm, for fear of vexing me; and I shall not be able to turn my eyes from them, for thinking of what I should like to buyforhor. I shall see the people crowding in and out, laughing, joking, happy in giving and receiving and for Gabrielle, nothing! Even the booths on the edge of the pavement we must pass even the most trifling keepsake, I cannot give it herl That is what happens on New Year's day to the poor man who has a sweetheart." "If I had only something left to send to the pawnbroker" Tho exclamation escaped me unawares, I was so moved by Raoul's evident pain oi mind. It made him laugh, however; he do clared thatwas my instinctive resource. And, indeed, there was some truth in this, confess it. - "Let us look things in the face," I said ul last; "surely tbore must be some resource, if we can only think of it. i snail go to ijevi I demand a loan; 1 shall tell him ! "That your friend Raoul Girard wants to 1 buy a present for his affianced on New Year's I day? That won't soften the flint that does! i duty for a heart with Levi Jacob, my dear ' Paul! And besides you owe him too much already." 1 "Too true. And can you, then, think of ; nothing?" "Nothing. You know that since Le Petit : Monde stopped no other journal has accepted s my articles. And my wretched salary as . critic for Le Drame is already overdrawn; they will advance me nothing. I had some ( hope when the editor of The Monde gave me 1 that letter to M. Beauvais. I thought he i might have paid us something in advance. : But that hope has failed." i ' For some time we both sipped our coffee in ' silence. I had never before seen Raoul thus I in open rebellion against his poverty; I had 1 never before seen that shadow on his brow 1 which darkened it to-night. ! "Our onlv hope now," I said at last, gloom- 1 fly, "soems to be in a miracle." 1 "Say at once in a letter from the director i of the Odeon!" "And why not? Only I would not call that ! a miracle! You know what I said of your 1 comedy at the time, Raoul you know what ; Tisson, of Le Drame, said of it- " i ' "I know, my dear Paul, that if you wero director of the Odeon the rehearsals would , begin to-morrow. But evidently M. Des-nouette's opinion is not ours. I wish ho would send back the manuscript; I could make a short story of it." .. .:r. : -vx. Baoul spoke lightly, but I knew that this particular failure hod bitterly disappointed him. ,Six months' hard work had been given to that comedy. . There were scenes and situations in it that but this is a quite needier ; digression. ; " -' "Have I not heard you speak of a relative rit yours living in the Quarter?" I ventured to say; "an uncle, was it not, who is rich? Perhaps ho " ... - "Useless to think of it! He is rich how rich nobody knows but himself. But he is a miser; ho grudges himself every mouthful he eats and every fagot he burns. He must believe that there are pockets in the winding-sheet I You remember that day in the gardens of the Luxembourg lost summer?" "Quite well. We were sitting under tho trees, feeding the birds with the crumbs lei't over from our breakfast, An old man hobbled post and frowned at us. What was it he said to you, Raoul?" , " 'Young man,' he said, 'never give away what some day you may want yourself.' And that is the man 1 I no ver yet have asked anything of him for myself. Twice I went to him, when my good uncle at Provins-his own brother n as lying ill and in want. Rather than give me money rather than part with bis cherished coin, lie actually gave me one or two things ho hod about him, articles of vertu to sell !" . , . v . "I remember. W hat a singular man I" ' "Hois a cur; I can call him nothing else! Whon my poor uncle at Provins died I went' to him again. 1 It was about the costs of the funeral. 'Pay for all,' he said; 'then bring an exact account to mo.' I paid for all; partly with what I could scrape together, partly by a loan from you. - When I went bock I found that my worthy uncle had given strict orders to the servant never on uny showing to admit me again. That was a year ago, and ho owes 1110 the money to this day. It would inake me ri jh now if I could got it!" . ,..,,.,, "And you have not seen him since?". . . "I havo not triod. My interviews with hun were not pleasant. He affected to believe that my storywas a fiction; thatlonly wanted his money to spend It on my follies! Ho made me swallow adders!" Pah I Bay no more of him. He is tha one man on earth that I hotel" ; : Raoul said tills in o, tone which loft no doubt as to tho reality of Lis hatred.,. I noticed how his face flushed and hij eyes blazed, and could imagine how badly the old misor must have trea ted him, sinco Raoul's anger wivt the rarest thing in the world. Nothing move passed between ns on tills disagreeable subjort; but I could S"o that Raoul hud not dismissed it from his muni. , ' Eewas silent an3 preoccupied, and thr ; shadow rested tm his face. I knew that he . was thinking also of Gabrielle Dumaine, and : ' how he could offer her no gift on New Year's ', day. That might seem- a small thing, com- ' i paratively ; but it was not so to Raoul Oirard. -r For he was very proud. We left the cafe of La Source unwillingly; !' the plash and ripple of the fountain seemed to murmur Stay; call for another glass of I absinthe, another cup of coffee." But two i francs 1 forty sons I end an indefinite num- j i ber of dinners to expend them on 1 We tore I ourselves away from La Source. ' ( jumui arm we weuu aiong uwxiue xuwiuu j and across the Place de l'Odeon, on the way ! to our common lodging. Raoul was strangely silent, and I noticed that be walked at a much twifter pace than was usual with him. Neither of us had overcoat or umbrella: these useful articles had drifted long since to the pawnbroker shop. The sleet lashed in our faces, our thin garments were soon drenched, the mud and water from the puddles splashed up about us. It was an execrable night. It should have been my part to solace myself with a little mild grumbling, and Raoul's to rebuke me with some words of gay philosophy. But to-night I bad an impression that he was Trvxlrinpr a personal grievance of this exposure to the snow and wind. He seemed strangely j unlike himself. Once, after one of the fierce! : blasts, I heard something Uke a oiitse escape I his lips. We scarcely exchanged a dozen words be-1 tween the Boulevard and the top of the Rue ; Dauphine. At the corner of that street ; Baoul stopped abruptly. It was as if he had i brought some long meditation to a close. , l "What o'clock is it, Paul V ho asked me. ! I laughed at the question, and reminded ! h!m that for two months I had been without ' a watch. Just then the bell of St. Sulpice tolled; i "One, two, three" -I counted up to ten. "Ten o'clock," I heard Raoul mutter to himself; "thore is time yet.", I thought I knew wnav he meant. QW,-''!. "Ten o'clock; (here is time yet." 1 "My friend," he said, "I am going to pay a visit. Oblige me by carrying home this book, and leave our door unlocked. I shall not be late, but do not wait for me if you feel at all sleepy. In the meantime, good night I". It did not surprise me that Raoul choulch mean to pay a visit at that hour. I thought pi knew where he was going, i We parted at the corner of the street. I Raoul, still walking very fast, went back on j the way we had come. As for me, I went i shivering homeward, carrying with me the English book. On the way I bought two fagots for use on the morrow, when we should begin the work of translation. And I wished i very much that the toxture of Raoni's coat hod produced a different effect on tho mind , of that wealthy member of the Institute. CHAPTER II. When I awoke next morning it was to wonder what could be the hour of day. I felt as if -I had slept sufficiently, and yet the light in the room seemed strangely dim. It might have been early morning. . '. I. looked across the room to the corner ia which stood Raoul's truckle-bed, opposite my own. Raoul still slept, and soundly, to judge from his deep, regular breathing. I know that he must have been late the night before; I had fallen asleep before he returned. Presently I beard the heavy foot of Pierre, our landlord and abrvantin one, mounting the stair, and then his knock at the door. "Isthat you, Pierre?" s , "It is I, with a letter for Monsieur, and otie also for M. Girard." I was about to rise to admit him, wlwn I noticed that the key was not in the loci of the door. Evidently Raoul had not secured tho door behind him last night, as it wis his habit to do. , ,. "Enter, then; tho key is or your siV'.e, is it .Mot?" . ... ' ' ." .'; 1 "Ah, it istruel Next minute he had entered the room, and coming to my bedside, handed rae the two letters. . 'Vv"hat o'clock is it, Pierre?" . , "It is half-past eleven, Monsieur." . , "How! Half-past eleven? Why, it is a veritablo twilight in this room!'.' . "If Monsieur looks at the window ho will see tho reason of that." I looked at tho window in U10 ceiling of our attio room, and saw that it was covered with snow; . ' "What frightful woathorl ' You will find two faggots in the closet, Pierre; have the goodness to light a fire, and hang these clothes before it. And make as littlo noise'as possible, if you plca.o. M. Girard still sleeps." "M. Oirard was very late last night," re-i marked Pierre; "it was after two when I lot hha in," - - ' . : s " . "So late ns that?" I said, surrrlscd. Raoul could not then have gone to visit Mme. Du- maino ana uaoneue; Be never scnycu wore sifter 11 at latest. .. Whero had ho been? ' - Wflile Pierre was making up tho fire, I read the lotter he bad brought mo. It was from my father, in answer to an appool for money atlurjierato appeal, miiIum-Iu-,;, sl had cxpcottil.. Unlike myself, my father was a man of principle; and one of his principles -tlieono I found personally most iucon-' : veuient was thisi Not a sou till quarter-day. Ho mauo mea good allowance, which, in those ; days of wild and thouglitlefia youth, I wad Bfinwtomed to spend with rapidity., Raoul . was always pool j I was, at intervals, rich fi.r a few days; then plunged into frightful poverty, ov'ir.l to my parent's, st.nra waolvo ne- or to antedate .'.ipplies. I had also .numerous creditors, and had bec-i-rn proficient in tl:a art of "donWirfj a cbijo" that U, sap TI2&1 ping round a street corner when one of "these appeared.. It was my custom, when the funds began to pink, to leave my comparatively luxurious room in the Rue de Medicis, with their pkasaiit view over the -Luxembourg gardens, and install myself in Raoul's garret, amid the din and squalor of the Rue Dauphine. His companionship more than made up for the discomfort, the com emu uie occasional pmun 01 n anger, w e were fast friends, financed in common and .had no secrets from each other. Raoul was very different from me frugal, industrious, Indulging in few pleasures, but always frank and gay, however empty his pockets. We were both students of law and our final examination was now not far off. 1 had never regretted my improvidence until now. ' But, when I saw how a little ready money would have enabled Raoul and myself to leave aside ail other work and give ourselves to our law books, I did regret it. And therefore, some days ago, I had written that letter to my father, scarcely expecting any more favorable answer than the exceedingly curt and decided one I received. , , ; Pierre had by this time kindled the fire, and . was arranging before it, on the backs of the two chairs our attio boasted, Raoul's damp clothes and mine. All at once he uttered an exclamation of surprise, which startled me ' from my study of the parental letter. "How! look then at the coat of M. Girard I The sleeve is ripped up right to the shoulder!" "What 1 the sleeve ripped up, do you say?" "Torn completely, Monsieur I But what is ' to be done? Monsieur has but one coat at present, and until it is repaired " : f "He canuot leave this room, of course. It is very awkward. How can he have done it?' "If' Monsieur desires, I will take the coat downstairs to Nannette, who willsew it sufficiently well. Monsieur doubtless remembers ' what the little tailor at the corner says that he will 'lo absolutely nothing more for Mon-siour until hi3 bill is paid?' t "It is truo, rierre; 1 recollect the words of the little wretch. . By all means, take the coat to Madame, and give her my thanks, in advance." - Pierre departed, taking the coat with him. I began turning over the pages of the English book, reading a passage here and there, and trying to reckon the time it would take us to translate it, Raoul was an excellent English scholar; I could read that language fairly. We had dene this kind of work once 01 twice before. Every now and then I looked arrets the mom to see whether Raoul was not awake. .Hut he did not stir. The heavy, regulfii breathing continued; ho seemed to be sleeping very soundly. .... 1 t. a,-' Bv rhnnm mv eve fell cm rl.ioT'l'R Ir.if.er. wldch i uat laid en the table beside me. 1 scotched forth my hand, took It and looked at the address; letters in those days were enough of a rarity to riiako one curious. The liandwricincr was strange to me. I was about to lav the letter down, when I noticed these words on the front of the envelope, "Odeon Theatre." Imagine my wonder, my delight! There was but one conclusion to bo drawn f rom a letter v. hkh came unaccompanied by the manuscript,. Raoul's comedy was accepted ! For weeks past I had been telling myself,- I had boon assuring Raoul, that nothing was more certain to happen than this. Rut now, when it had actually hsppened f or the lotter seemed suiBcicnt evidence of that I could scarcely real.20 at first that it was truo. The comedy accepted 1 that would change 9verything! No more living in a garret for Raoul no more dining at eight 8OUS---110 more translating dry English books and as Diuiy presents on New Year's day as he cared to buy! In a momcr.tlwosoutof bed, the letter in my hand. "Raoull" There wr:io answer. "Raoul!" in a louder voice. Still no answer. "Heavens I how he sleeps! Raoull" laying my band on his shoulder and gently shaking him. Still neither speech nor motion. "He must bave been very late last night. Where the devil can he have gone? Raoul, woken, won't you! Here is a letter from" Just then I caught sight of his face in the feeble light of the snow-obscured window. Its appearance alarmed me almost gave me a shock. It was fever-flushed, and tinged with purple under the eyes; the lips were tense; at the comers of the mouth something like foam had gathered. The breathing was slow, deep-drawn; this did not seem tome a natural slumber. , I shook him more violently ; still he did not awake. I went across tho room, and looked into a drawer of the writing-table, where I knew Raoul kept a vial containing a solution of morphia. He had been troubled at one time by insomnia, resulting from overwork, and the doctor bod given him this as a sleeping-draught. . I found the vial; it was empty. This at first frightened me terribly, until I remembered that there could not have bo much more than one dose loft in the bottle-certainly not enough to be dangerous. Still, Raoul's feverish look made me uneasy. I resolved on giving him a little time longer to awake, and meanwhile went to bed again. My clothes were still far from dry, and the cold was Siberian. I had not lain in bed ten minutes before ! was startled by Raoul moaning and restlessly moving his arms, ea if in tho act of climbing a rini-Tilar motion. Then he began to tidk in his bleep, at flint loudly; "It is tiiesa;.. -- Then lie lienan lo kilJi in hit tlecn. :! tho very vame; I recognto it well! . , - Yes, an gave It to no hiniseU, but that was a year igo; I have i& no 1 ls-r. ... I sold Ityou know I sold it I sold ii to to all, my God, I cannot renicml- .r '' Th'.n his voice became too faint form to nmrthev-Wclst. "Whatthi devil does hi v a Of th's nonsense?" I aaid tomv-lf; "pj; ia4.s i ncoue for pome future oociedy?' I sent cut f v lir-r.-'f-wt tvo r ills o lin-ad ami .1 unl?-',"e ol .tfu-'v i.lie.mi'n 4 all the a:Vi,.iooo U,-,r,Rv'Ul,a.'-a, 'JS- . i o'clock Ee"beganto stir unoas0y,Ti5i opened his eyes and, seeing me seated by his bedside, stretched out his hand and smiled. I felt inexpressibly relieved. j "What is wrong with you, my dear Raoull" I said; "are you unwell?" "No, Not Only I have had a bad dream the worst dream I ever had !" He passed his band over his eyes. "But lam awake now, thank God! Have I slept long, Paul?' ' "An eternity I ' I thought you would never waken! Do you know, Baoul, you bave finished the morphia that was in the vial?" "Finished it I don't seem to remember. Tell me, was I late last night?" "Pierre says you did not return until after two. I was asleep when you came in." ' Raoul started and looked at me strangely. "How cold it is in this room!" he said; "see. how I shiver!" And indeed the hand which he stretched out to me was trembling; when I touched it, however, I found it quite hot. "You are feverish, my dear fellow," I said to him. "This comes of Infrequent dining-, Now, this is what I shall do. I shall spend our two remaining francs on something resembling a dinner oh, yes! I have had breakfast; I shan't want to dine till to-morrow, or the day after! By that time, no doubt, I shall have captured somehow that shyest of all creatures, the five-frano piece. Thore must be someone still from whom I can borrow." r : In spite of Raoul's protests, I had some food and a half -bottle of wine brought from the restaurant over the way. He felt better after this; the headache of which he had complained left him; and he soon began to laugh and talk ill his usual manner. But he still complained of feeling weak, and I persuaded him to remain all day in bed. "Let us begin at the English book, however," he said; "for us time is money, as the English Bay." '.'No, no! We need -not begin at that, Raoul I You may say good-by to your translating. Tho days of your bondage are over you will never translate again!" - "What in Heaven's name do you meauf "Open and read!" I cried, giving him the letter. "Here is money, fame everything I And it has not come a day too soon." Raoul took the letter; when he saw the words "Odeon Theatre,"- his face became a shade paler, but his hand was wonderfully steady. "You are rushing to Conclusions, Paul," ho said ; "this latter ia evidently from the administration of the Odeon, but it may not " "It can mean only one thing that the comedy is acceptedl Open it at once, for Heaven's sake! Let us know the best or the worst though, of course, it is the best. I am sure of it," he took it more quietly, I knew he was quite as anxious as myself. I watched him as he read ; bis glance seemed to fly along the linos ; a look of satisfaction, almost exultation, came over his face, and I saw that the good news had come. Raoul clasped my hand.. "You were right," he said; "the comedy is accepted! Read 1" then sank back nervelessly on his pillow. . This was the letter: - Odeon Theatre, Dee. 24, 188. , "MoNsnran: In the nameof the administration of the Odeon theatre, I have the honor to inform you that your comedy, "The Cold of Toulouse," has been accepted for earl; representation at the Odeon. -"In my own name, Monsieur, allow me to congratulate you on your work. It is more than amusing; it is brilliant. This is the opinion also of my colleagues who have read it. I desire, Monsieur, to make your acquaintance, and request you to favor me by a visit on an early day. "Your comedy will be sent almost immediately to rehearsal, and will be put on the stage after the withdrawal of M. -Victor's piece, "The Hunting Party." I shall have the honor of intimating to you ere long the day on which you will be requested to send your comedy before the artists to whom the parts will be allotted. "I subscribe myself, Monsieur, with every assurance of esteem, your very humble, very obedient servant, , : -; "Desnobbttes, Manager. rt I shall not try to describe our proceedings during the next quarter of an hour or rather I should say my proceedings, for Raoul lay in bed laughing, while I waltzed round the room, hurled the English book into a corner, read the letter aloud with comments, waved it triumphantly aloft, and performed other absurdities; I was, indeed, overjoyed. - Raoul was going to be a great man! he would rival Scribe, Angler, Sardou, those giants of the stage he would make his way into the charmed circle of theComedie Francaise! I said all this, which made him laugh more than ever. He begged me to sit down, before Pierre came up stairs to see which of us had gone mad. "But you are satisfied T I said to him, sinking at last, out of breath, into a chair. "Does that letter not flatter you sufllciently 1" "Satisfied I tell you, Paul, this ia wonderful! It is one of those things which happen once in half a century. Now that it has happened, I begin to wonder how 1 could ever have Imagined it possible r "You must goto M. Desnouettes to-morrow I You must . ..'. ,f,.i ., : -v t "Ask him for a loan, eh r "And why not? He might have advanced you a few napoleons; ft is tho only omission I notice in his otherwiie admirable letter. Money we must have. ' Who, after this, could go on translating English V . , . "I am not going to borrow from M. Desnouettes.'' . ' '(, "Very good; there is another way. Give me the letter, and I will turn it into money. Times will change hi' the Quarter before a man with a comody accepted by the Odeon needs to starve I" "By all means take the letter and get the money if you can. And now, like a good fellow, give me pen and paper. I have three lines to write you can guess to whom." "Of course. It's a pity we can't spare her the letter, is it not?" ..,..... .-.-, "I will tell her the good news. How it will rejoice her I Last nifrht, after I left you, Paul, I saw her. We talked of this very thing, of the comedy. Like you, Gabrielle nevor lost faith in it. She has prayed to the Virgin every night that it might be accepted." ' . . r . "Well, it has been, anyhow. Hero are the pen and paper. Wait one moment while I put some water in this ink; it is almost dry."- Just then there came a knock at the door. It was Pierre who entered. "It is the coat of M. Girard,'1 he sa'd; "Nannette bids me say that she has done her best, though a tailor would doubtless have ) be&njuore sLiilfuL!' To le ContlKKid OF .4he ' AND Sold Bines, GREAT 3" N for Send - ' Is now Good liours; -WATER. foof by the We lnj; For " - " " " ". " ' " ..- , " " hjylst, A ' ' false . . is and her ., - and bald ' had : , soft, Is of ! to -, inpt Intolerable is '".'

Clipped from
  1. The Southern Signal,
  2. 19 Feb 1886, Fri,
  3. Page 1

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