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The^Rivals
It. was young CountJLinden’s twenty-
first birthday, andj“a grand 'fancy-ball
was being given in bis honor at bis
father’s country-house in Schloss Mar
burg, in Westphalia. Among the cava
liers, everY one noticed Conrad von
Rosenhain, a handsome young fellow of
two-and-twenty, straight and lithe, who
in his costume borrowed from the court
of Louis XV, attracted the brightest
eyes in the room.
The fourth quadrille was under wav,
ami Conrad with, a pretty little Alsatian
peasant as partner, was trying his wit
against hers, to the amusement of all
who overheard. But to the young
knight’s How of repartee there came
presently a sudden chilling shock ; mid
way in the dance some one tapped him
on the shoulder and said, in a sepul
chral whisper:
“Make yourself scarce as 300n as pos
sible ; you have a long rip in the back
of your stocking !”
The horror of that moment was over
whelming for Conrad von Rosenhain—
he. the hero of the ball, changed to an
object of ridicule, if any one were rude
enough to laugh ! Raging at the flimsy
products of all modern looms, Yon
Rosenhain dashed through the heavy
silk portieres in search of some one to
restore order to his toilet. It was a big
rent, and he wondered that the people
in the ball-room restrained their merri
ment as well as they did. They were
probably laughing at him now, confound
them ! A man in livery told him that
by going to the end of -a long corridor
and pushing open a certain door he
would find one of the lady’s-maids, who
would take the necessary stitches in the
unlucky stocking.
Following the man’s directions, Yon
Rosenhain found himself at length in a
large, dimly-lighted apartment, hung at
one end with half-drawn curtains,
through which a light gleamed. He ad
vanced quietly, and was about to speak,
when surprise at the tableau before him
silenced him. The lovely girl sitting
with the light glinting on her fair hair
was no lady's-maid; in her light blue
■velvet dress, with soft old lace about
the neck and sleeves, she seemed more
like a young princess.
“I have mistaken the room,” he said
t^ himself, “and had better take myself
■"off as quickly as possible.”
But, as he turned, he slipped and
nearly fell, and the girl, startled, looked
up frightened.
“Pray do not be alarmed,” said Con
rad, advancing, “I was sent in search
of a maid who would mend a rent in
my dress ; but I must have mistaken
the man’s directions.”
“No, there is no mistake I sent my
maid to bed half an hour ago, as she
had a bad headache. Perhaps I could
remedy the detect in your dress,” the
girl returned, with a charming smile.
“Oh, mo ; not for worlds would I
trouble you ! I will go in search of
some one else,” said Conrad, with some
thing like a. blush.
But the pretty little fairy would not
hear of his going, and, almost before he
realized what she was doing, she had
threaded a needle with a bit of lilac
silk and had dropped upon her knees
before him on the wolf’s skin on which
he stood. Deftly and quickly she
mended the rent in the much-reviled
stocking, and rose lightly to her feet,
scarcely touching Conrad’s arm offered
in assistance.
“I am very much obliged to you,”
began the young man, in earnest tones,
“and I—”
“Oh, never mind thanks for such a
trifle! Any one would have done as
much. Now you may go back to the
litlle Alsatian peasant with whom you
have been Hilling all the evening.”
Von Rosenhain seemed in no hurry
to go.
“So you have seen me before my ap-
jiearance here this evening ? Surely I
see you for the first time now ? he said,
wonderingly.
“Yes, I was among the lookers-on in
the gallery, near the musicians, and 1
watched you particularly during the
hour that I was allowed to stay. My
aunt declares that I am ten) young to
appear at the ball as a guest—do you
not think it a shame ? I shall be six
teen next birthday, and I love danc-
?!”
is an tinyardonable shame !” ex-
Conrad excitedly, as he looked
violet eyes, dewy
your
to
is kind of you—very kind—-to interest
yourself in me ; but it is too late now.”
“I must do as you wish, of course,”
returned Conrad reluctantly. “How
ever, it flatters me that you cared to
discover my name.”
“You would like to know mine, I
suppose,” she said with a saucy smile ;
but I am not going to tell it to you.
Call me Penelope, or one of the Fates,
or any one who sits working busily
while others are amusing themselves,
and weave some kind of interesting
romance about me. Now leave me, I
beg of you. I hope you will enjoy the
remainder of the ball, and I am very
glad I have been of service to you.”
“I thank you heartily,” said Conrad,
pressing one of her soft white hands
gallantly to his lips.
Upon his return to the ball-room the
festivity seemed to have lost idl its
charm for Conrad von Rosenhain ; the
guests’ voices were noisy and discordant
compared with the low, girlish tones to
which he had just been listening, and
there was not a face in ail the throng
that did not pale before the delicate
loveliness of the one he had seen bend
ing over the heap of colored silks in the
little boudoir.
The next day was a dark one for
Schloss Marburg ; the news spread like
wild-fire that the Countess Linden was
striken down with a violent fever, and
, the frightened guests were begged to
disperse with all possible baste. Yon
Rosenhain was obliged to take his de
parture with tlie others, much though
he yearned to find out who his benefac
tress was, of whose childish violet eyes
and lovely pink-tinted face he had been
dreaming ever since. It would have
been heartless to pursue his investiga
tions at such a time, and lie could not
stay and be a burden upon the stricken
house.
A few weeks later Conrad von Rosen
hain, together with many another brave
youth, was called upon to assist in the
defence of bis fatherland against the
French, and in the excitement of army
life bis mind bad less time to dwell upon
the pretty little unknown wlio had so
facinated him.
In an engagement near the village of
Kirchfelt Lieut, von Rosenhain was
wounded in tlie shoulder—not severely,
but enough to make him unfit for ser
vice for some weeks. As no hospital
was in tlie neighborhood, Schloss Holi-
enstein, the home of a certain Baron
von Remsthal, was chosen as qi^irters
for the invalid, and thither von Rosen
hain was sent to await recovery.
Schloss Hohenstein was a fine old
mansion rapidly falling into decay , tlie
shrubberies were tangled and unkempt,
tlie statues crumbled unheeded. And
within doors the desolation was nearly
as great—the once beautiful furniture
and tapestries were worm eaten and in
tatters. Moreover, there were very few
servants ; and rumors reached Conrad’s
ears of tlie Baron von Remstbiil being
deeply involved in debt.
One bright sunny‘day, as Conrad was
walking in the garden, rejoicing at the
thought of soon being able to rejoin
bis regiment, some one advanced
towards him whom lie had not seen be
fore at Schloss Hohenstein—a graceful
young girl in a pretty, fur-trimmed
dress, her cheeks (lushed with tlie cold
crisp air. Surely he had seen those eyes
before ? Was be dreaming, or was this
really the same mysterious fairy who
had mended his stocking at the fancy
ball ? ‘ •
“Good morning, Lieut, von Rosen
hain I she said with *a lovely smile lie
remembered so well. “I am so glad
you are well enough to be out again. I
have inquired for you every day, but
have not had the pleasure of seeing you
before. I hope you have not forgotten
me.”
“Never !” declared Conrad, retaining
the little hand so frankly proffefed
him.
“IIow odd that we should meet again,
quite by chance! But you do not
know mo. I must introduce myself
now, because I am your hostess. I am
Daphne von Remsthal, and I live here
with my father.”
“So at last 1 know the niune of the
fair unknown who helped mo out of my
very unpleasant predicament at Count
Marburg’s ball! It is a question that I
have asked myselfyin vain thousuiuls of
times since. ”
It is astonishingjhov^much these two
who had never met before but once
found to say to’eaeh other in the old
garden, and the summons to luncheon
all too soon. From this day on
vlid soldier found nothing so ben-
in the
seemed to others unpropitious; and 1
Daphne, as hostess, could not but chat
with her guest when they met.
The two were sitting one day near an
old moss-grown sun dial at the end of
the garden walk, and a very pretty
tableau they made—she with a bright
color in her cheeks, her light curly hair
tossed about her forehead, and her eyes
like diamonds, and be with enough pal
lor—the result of his illness—to lend a
new interest to his face, and his fine
figure set off by bis uniform. Daphne
had gathered a tiny bunch of winter
violets, and was showing her treasures
to Conrad, who bent his head over hers
to see them, when botli were startled by
a voice saying, in not the gentlest of
tones:
“Lieut, von Rosenhain, you are very
imprudent to sit in this damp garden
while you are still an invalid. Daphne,
you will accompany me to the house, as
Fraulin Lindes, your governess, seem
to have deserted you.”
Daphne arose with a frightened look
in her eyes, and took her father’s arm ;
for it it was the old baron who had so
ruthlessly broken in upon her tete-a-
tete with Conrad.
The next day Lieut, von Rosenhain
took his stroll in the garden alone.
Towards evening lie was requested to
honor Baron von Remsthal with a visit
in his study. The baron received the
young man with elaborate politeness,
and proceeded to tell him that a sum
mons bad come for him to rejoin liis
regiment; be would regret losing so
agreeable a guest from his house, but
it could not be helped.
“By-tlie-way,” continued tlie old
man, “it wquld perhaps interest you to
hear that my daughter Daphne is about
to be betrothed to a distant cousin of
mine, Hugo von Pleyel, a man consid
erably her senior, but of excellent char
acter, and possessed of a handsome for
tune. It is an unspeakable relief to me
to know that my child’s future is se
cure.
But alas for the fond dreams of
either new ! He, a young officer, with
no other property in tlie world than bis
horse and sword, could ill offer himself
as rival to the rich Baron von Pleyel
when the Yon Remsthals were on the
verge of bankruptcy. How the young
man hated this stranger who was to
bear off the prize he so yearned for !
As Conrad strode past a half-ruined
summer-house standing a little back
from the avenue, the sound of smothered
sobbing reached bis ear. In another
moment be stood in the little arbor,
clasping both Daphne’s hands in liis,
and looking down intoher tear-brimming
eyes with a world of love and pity in
liis own.
“Am I not to congratulate you #>n
your engagement ?” be asked, with a
bitter ring in liis voice..
“Oh, no, no! I am so unhappy.
But what can I do ? We are very poor
—almost on the verge of want, and I
cannot disappoint my father.”
“Do you love anyone else?” Conrad
asked, eagerly watching her face.
For reply she leaned her pretty bead
upon liis -shoulder, and the young sol
dier knew the truth.
Tlie next day Lieutenant von Rosen
hain took bis departure. His heart was
heavy at the thought that be would per
haps never see Daphne again ; but tlie
memory that she loved him awakened
a song of triumph within him, hopeless
though their love was.
* * * * * *
There had been a sharp engagement
between French and Prussians on the
outskirts of the little village of Apfel-
dorf, and the contending parties hov
ered still about the place for another
attack on the morrow. At nightfall
Lieutenant von Rosenhain and a few
other officers and men gathered round
a meager oamp-flre to try to snatch a
few hours' sleep.
It is a pity we can have no better
fire on this bitter cold night; go to the
house yonder, Wilhelm, and see if you
can find any fuel,” said one ofthe offi
cers.
The man took a lantern and went
towards the deserted-looking building
standing in its own grounds, tho aban
doned home of some rich family. He
returned with liis arms full of books.
“The place lias been plundered, sir,
of everything but these ; but they will
make a fine fire.”
As do one objected, the soldier flung
the armful of liooks on the dying flames.
“Bring more—the idea is not bad ;”
and soon the camp-fire burned merrily,
fed by scores of priceless old volumes.
“ A pity—a great pity ; but our men
cannot freeze,” said a man, lying wrap-
is cloak, near Von Rosenhain.
He had curiously piercing dark eyes,
and a mustache nearly white; but his
figure was lithe and active as any
youth’s.
Von Rosenhain watched him narrow
ly, and wondered that he had not seen
him before.
Presently Conrad leaned forward,
and with liis saber idly raked a little
vellum-bound book towards liim out of
the burning pile. It was a volume of
Dante’s Inferno with tlie date 1530.
On the fly-leaf were these words in
faded ink—“Daphne, de son ami
Louis.”
“Daphne,” said Conrad, half to him
self—“an unusual name, and a very
pretty one too.”
“ I am glad you like it,” observed the
dark-eyed stranger at bis side; “ it is
the name of the girl wlio is to be my
wife.”
Conrad looked at the man in silence.
Tlie idea took sudden possession of him
that bis bated rival was before him;
but be could not bear to hear the truth
from tlie man’s own lips.
On tlie first opportunity that offered,
he asked one of tlie men who tlie tall
officer was with the eagle eyes and gray
mustache.
“That is Col. Hugo von Pleyel.” v as
tlie reply.
The next night it was necessary to
send an important message to a certa
point three miles distant. The way lay
through the village, and was dangerous
as many French soldiers were skulking
about. Conrad Von Rosenhain was
chosen one messenger, and oddly
enough it fell to the lot of Col. von
Pleyel to accompany him.
At dark the two men set forth on
their dangerous errand, the elder know
ing little of the hate for him in the
younger one’s breast. On the way
they spoke little, and followed each
other in tlie darkness as well as they
could. Passing through a narrow gate
way at the end of the village street,
Von Rosenliain’s sword slipped and
struck on the ground.
“Wlio goes there?” called a gruff
voice in French, followed hv the sharp
report of a musket.
“Foolish fellow to waste liis bullet
aiming in tlie dark !” said Conrad to
himself.
Outside the village the danger was
over, and Von Rosenhain having wan
dered out of hearing of his companion,
hurried on alone, delivered liis message,
and returned to the camp. Tlie next
morning, on inquiring for Col. von
Pleyel, Conrad heard to his astonish
ment that he had not returned. Won
dering, he set out again over the road
that they had traversed together on the
previous evening, and, as he neared the
little gate at the end of the deserted
street, lie saw to his surprise Col. von
Pleyel sitting on a bench beside a cot
tage.
“We were wondering at your absence,
colonel,” he was about to say, but the
words froze on his lips. Hugo von
Pleyel was stone-dead, shot through tlie
brain.
Yon Rosenhain remembered with a
^liock the striking of liis saber on the
ground, the challenge of the French
soldier, and the bullet fired. That bul
let had struck down the man whom he
hated above all others on earth. He had
fallen upon the stoue bench without a
cry, and, supported by tlie wall of the
house, had sat in ghastly silence ever
since.
A successor was needed to (ill the
post of the lamented Col. von Pleyel,
and to Conrad von Rosenhain’s delight
it was offered to him as a reward for his
p:ist bravery. The first person to whom
the young man wrote of his advance
ment was the Baron von Remsthal, and
the letter contained a formal request
for the hand of liis daughter Daphne in
marriage. Daphne herself replied with
a happy glowing letter ; and when the
summer came the soldier-lover claimed
his bride. Daphne in her orange-blos
soms wtis “beautiful as an angel,” the
neighbors said.
Compliments.
“If I owuied that land of yours,” sug
gested a florid gentleman bubbling over
with good advice, “I’d cut it up in
building lots, sell ’em and make enough
to live easy tlie rest of my life. ” “And
if I was sure you had :ia much faculty
1 bto manage your own business as you
have faculty to give advice to others, I
would lend you that $1,600 you asked
for yesterday.” And tlie train rolled
on und the florid gentleman changed his
seat
The Fair Sex.
'The richest treasure a man ever gets
in this world is a good wife. The poor
est investment he ever makes is a poor
wife, no matter how much money she
lias. Marriage is a transaction which
should be removed as far as possible
from the monied value of either party,
The happiest homes everywhere liave
been bought and paid for by tlie mutual
earnings after marriage. Nothing is
truer than that a good wife in the
home is as surely a money-earner as is
the husband who toils witli hand or
brain. The best motto for every young
man or woman is, “Marry for love and
work for riches.” It may lie an old
fogy idea, hut millions of homes will
hear testimony to its truthfulness.
Women to the front.—Oregon has
passed a law which is to he submitted
to the people, allowing women to vote
for all offices in that State. The preju
dice against women occupying offices
and public positions is steadily decreas
ing as years roll by. This is especially
noticeable in connection with educa
tional matters. Women are now eiigi- *
hie as school officers in Illinois, Iowa,
Kansas, Virginia, Massachusetts, Michi
gan, Minnesota, New York Pennsyl
vania, Vermont, Wyoming, and to any
office in Wisconsin except that of State
superintendent. In Mississippi the law
requires that at least one woman shall
be a member of the State board of edu
cation. But conservative England is
far ahead of this country, and women
who have property have always voted
for municipal offices.
Augusta Sholke, once a favorite dan-
seuse of Paris and Berlin, and the prin
cipal attraction of tlie Viceroy of Egypt’s
imported ballet troupe, is past her danc
ing days, and is directing the terpsicho-
rean entertainment in a Philadelphia
varftty theatre. She says that American
girls would make tlie most superb danc
ers in the world if they were not too lazy
to go through with tlie requisite course
of training. They practice an hour,
and then begin to cry over their aching *
toes. English girls are fully as had,
and usually awkward, too. German
girls, as a rule, are clumsy. The Ital
ians and French make tlie best dancers,
as they are generally graceful and not
afraid to work. “The dancer’s toes,”
she asserts, "‘should not get tired, if she
loves her art.” No one ever hears that
the fingers of a good piano player are so
stiff and sore that he is unable to play
well. The dancer’s toes should he like
the piano player’s fingers. ”
Remarkable Preservations.
It is astonishing how well some peo
ple wear when they become corpses.
When in April, 1861, the remains of
Napoleon was transferred to the sar
cophagus, they were observed to be in
a perfect state of preservation. When,
in July, 1793, the National Convention
decreed that the tombs of the cide-
vant kings at the Church of St. Denis
(five miles from Paris) should he de
molished, the first tomb opened was
that of Turenne, whose body was found
in such perfect preservation that it was
exhibited for the space of eight months
in the sacristy. Tlie first body ex
tracted from the vault of the Bourbons
was that of Henry IV., and it was ex
hibited for two days, during which
casts were taken of the face. On the
same day the^g)0s of Louis XIII.,
Louis XIV., Marie de'Medicis, Anne
of Austria, Marie Therese and Louis
the Dauphin, son of Louis XIV.. were
disinterred. The body of Louis XIII.
was in good preservation; that ol
Louis XIV. of the deepest black. The
tomb of Charles VI. and Isabella of Ba
varia,liis consort,contained nothing hut
dry hones. The tomb of Dagobert was
opened by torchlight. The body of
this king and liis queen Nathilde la$
together enveloped in silk. The king’s
head w;is severed from the body ; the
head of the queen was missing. The
customs of the people, in Dagohert’s
time must have made it a rather stir
ring thing to he a king.
—It is had policy to wash harness
witli soap, as tlie potash injures the
leather. If the harness becomes msty
rub off the dirt as well as possible witli
a soft brush and supply a dressing of
grain black, followed witli oil or tallow,
which will fasten the collar and- make
tlie leather pliable.
—While workmen were digging sand
near Scranton last week they found
thousands of living potato bugs fifteen
feet below the surface.