Newspaper Page Text
THE WEEKLY STAR
a »"-i > . T-.' _ •. ’ .’i '
’ •- ' < te, ■ * i ' * 'll r • 1- -■’J i, 1 '■ • \ t X)>
Vol. Vll.-ND. 6.
John M. Edge,
ji'l frJffil* 4T
JO >tx.S ’ - C«.
WI Lf> practice in all the court*, and
prompGy attend to all business en
rusted >o hi< care.
T. S. BVTL 2E.T
Houlsso |
DO JGLAWILLE, - <
furniture lodic *«. w 11 al |
W new. Give hta» trial fnJMOte.MH J
iso do house carpfenWtin* ?***•'>■ I
B. G. GRIGGS,
attorney a t l a w
Douglasville, Georgia.
WI 1 Lpr >ctlce tn all the courts, State 1
and Federal. Jani3ly.
F S. Verdery, j
Physician and Surgeon. I 1
Office at Hudson * edge’s drug i
STORE, where ho can be found at all ,
hours except when professionally engaged. .
special attention given I o yhronic cases, and
especial ly ail cases that have been treated and |
a e still uucuied. Janl3 to,ly.
Respectfully offer my services as nhysi- 1
ci an and surgeon, to the people of Doug
lasville mi <1 vicinity. AU calls wilt be at ten- I
d' d promptly. Can be found at the drug store j
of Hudson A Edge, during the day and at
night at my res’dence at the house recently
occupied by J. A. Pittman. „
r J. B. EDGE ;
THOMAS W; 1 ATHAM, j
Attorney at law
F.RBURN, GEO I GIA.
Will practice iu all the Courts
both State an I Federal.
Special attention given to suits !
Ikgwinsi Railroads and other Corpo- ,
radon?. Will attend regularly the i
Superior and other courts ot Douglas 1
county.
B D — H "~ A y r g
IMPROVED
Jr q Turbine I
Ju the best constructed and i
gfr tlnished, gives bett« r pcrce.J-
,H K*> mor<* !>ow< r nnd is sold
tare! iptfLA for less mom y per horse power i
han any other Tin bine in the
r,<l
A fifonphtet mnt Fit K’>y . _ |
. BURNHA M HR* >«., York. Pa.
PTWH >s ton i c'.
A pure FaiuTly that Never
Intoxi nt.es.
'Tf you have Dyspepsli>, Rheumatism. Kld
nsv <ir Urinary ijoinp’aiul*. or if you are
troubled will, any disorder of the lurgr,
wtonmehr, bowels, hlocxl or nerves you can
be ruled by Parker’s T>mtc.
H you are a Itiwyar, minister or business
<fe£n eV Ort listed by mental strain or anxious
ftiiaoln not t.*ke Intoxicating stimulant*,
Imt use Parkers’ Tonic.
sass you are a mechanic or former, worn ou
■ h over-work, or a mother rundown b
rally «>rh ms«hold dull** try l’srker’FToni
(’A tion.— -Refuse *ll substitute*. Par
fcer' T«<nlc is composed of the best remedl*
if* In the w rid, and I* entirety dlfferen
(Y * n preparations of ginger alone. H«ud
e 1 10 u•s r. _
moN!
iiwi
® BEHTOMC. ?
Tbl* wMltire, ecsssMniw lire with r»r*
vegetable tanita, calokty and optapietaly
C arse Oyepewta, IndtaretteM. Weakaeea,
1 *r«r* Bi**<hlUaoad tavern,
remedy tar Hamms es the
*ll*ta r lavaUtableXt nta*a*as peesdlsr to
Wemeav **d all who lead sedentary lives.
It 4oe* not Injurs the teeth, cauee headache**
r -eduee oonitlpauoa—edtor Are «wdwi«w* de.
It snriehee snd purifies the blood, •emulate*
'he appetiw. aids Um amimltoUon of toed, re
»ve* Heartburn and B»lchtng, and strength
.« UH tauecle* sad werrm.
For latermiUeat Fever*. Laadtude. Laakef
’««rgy. 11 *** *•
ar The tennhss* has shove trade »*rH«4
weed red line* oa wrapper. Take no eih«r. |
a-4, s« »•»*« ansau ea. a*vrnma*. ■».
SffißS
For thver and are* and rrmittaatt, are
the debilitated, bdtoaa aad aervosw- To
•ack pettaMW. HeHHlrr’i Stomach Ritter.
a*or4e advotart* nrotecuea by uterraata*
vital etatotaa «•« *h* rraietenl poarrr ©* .
toe eaaeuutitoa. and by ebechtag irrrga
hriueo »f Ute irver Momaeb and bewtoa- .
rt rradieato* matermi M«k»
phsate *1 an otMUnaw type and asaate
** 4 OMhin
A PAMS MYSIW
By the Author of "My Bucafs emd Jtfy ,
oßaujjWer.” . „/4 -
C*'' ' <®APTER I.
I am to set down, in order and de
taO, all that I know relative to the affair of
the Passage de Mazarin, or, as it was com
mcnly called at the time, the “Crims of
Chriatmaa Day.” Thia I can do very easily,
since not only arc the facts frosh in my
memory, but I have also before me, as I
write, the various documents, newspaper ex
tracts, etc., bearing on the case.
I begin by telling how, on the evening of
Monday, the 24th of December, 186—, about
8:30 o’clock, I left Girard’s lodgings in the
Rue Dauphine, where I was then staying, and
went to meet him by appointment at the case
called La Source. The night was very cold,
and I had been sitting without a fire, for
reasons; consequently I was not sorry when
the hour came for my leaving tho dismal,
sky-high garret which was my temporary
home. In spftcrof the cold, I did not taka my
greatcoat with me, also for reasons; and I
well remember how keen the wind blew, as I
hurried shivering up the Boulevard St.
MicheL It was a wretched Christines eve.
Snow had begun to fall, but melted as 6<x>n as
it reached the pavements, covering them with
a slush that made the asphalt very treacher
ous footing. No scene could have been more
cheerless than the Boulevard that night; the
dark sky above, the dripping pavement be
neath, the leafless trees, the falling snow—l
shiver yet to think of it. And no greatcoat!
All tho world—at least, all the world of the
Latin Quarter—knows the Case de la Source.
It is one of tho features of the Boulevard St.
Michel; and the Boulevard — Boule Miche,
we used to call it affectionately in our student
days—is one of the features of the Quarter.
The case takes its name of “the Fountain”
from a grotto fronting the entrance, with
running water and littlo cascades that make
a pleasant, bubbling, tinkling noise, not
altogether drowned by the rattling of domi
noes, the babble of tongues, and the shouts of
waiters. It is very agreeable, in summer, to
sit crateide on the pavement under the awn
ing, and drink your coffee or your glass of
3tra«sbqrg beer, and look at tho people going
up and down the Boulevard. But it is, per
haps, in winter that the case of La Source
ieems most cheerful. You make but a step
from cold and darkness outside into warmth
and light within. The brilliant windows, tho
Gr es ciMMorti-toe hum of talk and bursts of
laughter that iWHi tKi car bTthc by-pnsww—-
these are things difficult to resist. You hear
the and it lures you over the
threshold.
The case was looking its gayest and bright
wt when I reached it that Christmas Eve.
Rut 1 did not go in at once, for tho same rear-
Kins that had deprived me of a fire and my
jreatcoat, Thad not a sou in my pocket.
Girard, however, either was there or
would be very soon. I therefore reconnoitered,
%nd presently, the door opening, saw him sit
ting at & table in the corner. He caught
tight of me at the same moment, smiled and
beckoned me to oome in. This I was only too
jlad to do.
WJii
K» bfchonrd me to come fn.
He had on the table before him a cup of
xffeeond a big book; the eoffee untoached,
the book Unopenar).
“My deer Paul,” be said, “you see I have
waited far you. It is warmer here than at
the Rue Daaphine, ehl—waiter, another cup
as coffee and a gloat of absinthe.”
“Your room, Raoul," I said, “reminded me
to-night of Rpittbergrn. I have not been
I there, but I bare been in your room and I
know that I do not exaggerate. I think
i Baresits would have found year room cold.”
“You tangtdoh for th* Rue de Medfcisl—for
your- mirrors and damask curtains and the
porcelain stove ff
“1 eonfess H. But lam not ungrateful to
(he Rue Dauphlna It Is at least a roof!”
“And wefetay enjoy the luxury of a fagot
-by-und-by.*
“Ahl I see you have got the bocttT
Raoul gave a kind of grcau as be pushed
tbe volume toward me. “Look at that!" ho
takL
I looked at it. It was a bulky volume, in
English, called “The Ruddlust Beliefthe
work of some English savant, whose name I
XXlid not pronounce then, and have forgot
ten now. I opened it cardesly hero and
there, then looked at the number on the last
P*g*-
"This ie frightful!” I said, “450 pages, and
tho type is small | How much time, Itaoulf’
•*Bix weeks, counting from to-day.”
“And hew much money I"
“Two hojklred franca.”
"That ie stuuneM, it b criminal! Two
hundred francs for translating a book of this
Aael—tt b unheard of I Anything paid in
idvanoer
“Nothing. ThatM the worst feature at the
naaa M. Beauvais did not offer, and I could
•et bring myself to ask. I dare any, when
Itoioehad at my cosfc he though* he risked
Snough in buldg me Carry the buck *w*y,”
.“Wa© b hL Bannvabr
“A gMtnber of the Institute, vary rich, ap
tmrataly. He thna in the IJpe d'Asjou, Fau
bourgßu S«»re. HeknowvaEl theeMbena
langteMßMLtert dose not read English. Bo
MMlfetMttfete* m. . Yob asust take roar
Aa toaMtaltaA Whi thea ww shaff
ille, Georgia, Tuesday March 10 1885.
Douglas'
[ iXme."
'“With aS my Iteart. But how are wo to
wo exist for three
granting ire can do it
I have not a sou in the world;
my bijouterie, my books—even
law-books—are all at the pawnbroker's,
and my allowance is not due for eight weeks,
I believe. You 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 every day.
That is my position. And yours P’
“The same exactly, my dear Paul, except
that I have these two francs fifty centimes
which you see, and that no allowance comes
to me at the end of eight weeks!”
“Two fmnes fifty centimes! That will no'
tide us over the three weeks untn this terrible
translation is finished. And how are we to
buy paper, pens and ink P’
Raoul did not speak for some moments; he
had suddenly grown thoughtful and serious.
We had been talking in a half-jesting tone,
but when next be 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
every second day, and we can Mo in bed a
good deal, as we have done before. But to
morrow, my friend, is Christmas, and this
day week is New Year’s day.”
“WellF
“Well?—don’t you see what that means!
On New Year’ day we give gifts to those we
love- ’»
“Ah!—Gabrielle! I did not think of that!”
“My deai-Paul, you never think! That is
why I love you. But just see how I am
placed! 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—l shall walk with her round
the Boulevards; the windows are full of
pretty things; she will scarcely look at them,
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 buy for her. 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 her I That is what hapfiens ou New Year’s
daj r to the poor man who has a sweetheart.”
“If I had only something left to send to the
pawnbroker!”
The exclamation escaped me unawares, I
was so moved by Raoul's evident pain of
mind. It made him laugh, however; he de
clared that was my instinctive resource.
And, indeed, there was some truth in this, I
confess it
“Let us look things in tho face,” I said at
last; “surely there must
we can only think of it.
Jacob to-morrow; I a fIHI
slud! t - -, f
“That your friend
buy a present -for.’ >
day-? That won't Miftan
duty for a heart with Ixm
Paul! And besides you owe him too much
already.”
“Too true. And can you, then, think of
nothing?’
“Nothing. You know that since Le Petit
Monde stopped no other journal has accepted
my articles. And my wretched salary ts
critic for I-* Drame is already overdrawn;
they will advance me nothing. I had sores
hope when the editor of The Monde gave ma
that letter to M. Beauvais. I thought be
might have paid us something in advance.
But that hope has foiled.”
For some time we both sipped our coffee tn
silence. I had never before seen Raoul thus
In open rebellion against his poverty; I had
never before seen that shadow on his brow
which darkened it to-night.
“Our only hope now," I said at last, gloom
ily, “seems to be in a miracle.”
“Say at once—in a letter from the director
of the Odoon!”
“And why not! Only I would not call that
a miracle! You know what I said of your
comedy at tho time, Raoul—you know what
Tisson, of Le Drame, said of it—
“l know, my dear Paul, that if you were
director of the Odeon the rehearaals would
begin to-morrow. But evidently M. D*s
nouette's opinion is not ours. I wish he
would send back the manuscript; I could
make a short story of it.”
Raoul spoke lightly, but I knew that this
fiorticular failure had bitterly disappointed
him. Six months' hard work had been given
to that comedy. There were scenes nnd situ
ations in it that—but this is a quite needless
digression.
“Hare I not heard you speak of a relative
ot yours living iu the Quarterr I ventured
to say; “an uncle, was it not, who is rich!
Perhaps he ”
“Uicless to think of ikt He is rich—how
rich notx-Jy knows but himself. But he is a
ruisor; be grudges himself every mouthful h»
sate and every fagst ho bums. He must ba-'
lieve that there are pocketa in the winding
sheet! You remember that day in the gar
dens of the Luxembourg last summer F’
“Quite welt We were sitting under the
trecA, feeding the birds with the crumb* left
over from onr breakfast. An old man bob
bled peat and frowned at us. What was it
he said to you, Raoul f
“ ‘Young num,’ he said, ‘never give away
what some day you may want yourself. ’
And that is tho man { I never yet have asked
anything of him for myself. Twice I went
to him, when my good uncle at Proving—hi*
own brothar—was lying ill and in wank
Rather than give me money—rather than
part with iu* cherished coin, be actually gave
uie cue or two thing* he had about him, arti
cles of vartu—to sell!”
“I remember. What a singular man f"
“He is a cur; I can call him nothing else!
When my poor uncle at I’rovins died I went
to him again. It was abont the costa of th*
funeral ‘Pay for all,* he said; 'then bring
an exact account to me.’ I paid tar all;
partly with what I could scrape together,
partly by a loan from you. "When I went
back I found that my worthy uncle had
given strict orders to the servant never on
any showing to admit me again. That was a
year ago, and bo owes no the money to this
day. It would make me rich nesh-if I could
get It!”
“And you have Dot aecn him etnoef”
“I have not tried. My inter tiew* with
him were d 4 pisaannk He affected to be-
Itevw that try story wm a fiction; that I only
wanted his money to spend ft on my fcliire!
lie made rao swallow adder*l Pahl Say no
mere of him. Ha ft th* one maa oa earth
that I hate!”
Raoul aaid this in a tone which left do
doubt as to the reality at his hatred. I
tutuxd bow his face flushed aad kta eves
mi3er~must have treated him, MIK.T Kabul s
anger was the rarest thing in the world.
Nothing more passed between us on this
disagreeable subject; but I could soo that
Raoul had not dismissed it from his mind.
He was silent and preoccupied, and tho
shadow rested on 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
paratively; but it was not so to Raoul Girard.
For he was very proud.
Wo left the case of La Source unwillingly;
the ptedc and ripple of the fountain seemed
so nnirmur: Stay; call for another glass of
ahuntbe, another cup of coffee. But two
frencsJ—forty sous!—and an indefinite num
ber ofdinnwre to expend them on! We tore
* ourseltaß jrway fnsnLaSfflgrce.
( Artoln arm we went along the Rue Racine
’ and across the Place de I’Odeon, on the way
, to our common lodging. Raoul was strangely
silent, and I noticed that he walked at a much
swifter 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 sleot 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
1 | with a little mild grumbling, and Raoul’s to
I rebuke me with some words ot gay philosophy.
I ' But touiight I had an impression that he was
making a personal grievance of this exposure
to the snow and wind. He saenaed strangely
unlike himself. Once, after one of the fiercer
! | blasts, I heard something like a curseeecape
' . his lipa.
’ j We scarcely exchanged a dozen words bo
( tween the Boulevard and the top of tho Rn«
' | Dauphjne.- At the corner of that street
! Raoul stopped abruptly. It was as if he had
brought some long meditation to a close.
“What o’clock is it, Paul!” he asked m*.
I laughed at the question, and reminded
■ him that for two months I had been without
a watch.
Just then the bell of St. Sulpico tolled;
‘ ‘One, two, three"—l counted up to ten.
“Ten o’clock,” I heard Raoul mutter to
himself; “there is time yet” I thought I
■ knew what he meant. ->
/z Jl ’ l"’ >*.i
/ 1 ft
A/n
Zni Qr i
Xi 11 a * i~*
1 ' ’ * I /A I \ I
/ f • \ .j
I Vi l ] ! f I n
1 / V/ az Mi
•‘Ten o’eloek; fAaro <• time yet”
"My friend,” he said, "I am going to pay a
1 rfclt. Oblige mo by carryingbcme this book,
and leave our door unlocked. I shall not be
late, but do not watt for m* if you feel at all
sleepy. In the meantime, good night!”
It did not surprise me that Raoul should
mean to pay a visit at that how. I thought
: I knew where he was going.
j We parted at the corner of the street.
Raoul, still walking very fast, went back on
I the way we had oome. As for me, I went
1 I ahivering homeward, carrying with me the
1 English book. On the way I boug'.t two
fagot* for use on the morrow, when wo should
begin the work of translation. And I wished
1 v*ry much that the texture of Raoul’s cost
t hod produced a different effect on the mind
( of that wealthy member of the Institute.
CHAPTER 11.
When I awoke next morning It was to won
der wha* could be the boor of day. I felt os
; if I had slept sufficiently, and yet the light in
i th* room seemed strangely dim. It might
I have been early morning.
I looked across the room to the corner in
which stood Raoul’s truckle-bod, opposite my
even. Raoul still slept, and srsmdly, to judge
' from his deep, regular breaching. I knew
> that ho must nave been late the night before;
I bad fallen asleep before he returned.
Preaentiy I beard the heavy foot of Pierre,
our landlord and servant in one, mounting
the stair, and then his knock at the door.
i “Is that you, PissrreF
."It is I, with a letter for Monsieur, and one
also for M. Girard.”
I was about to rise to admit him, when I
noticed that the key was not in tho lock of
the door. Evidently Raoul had not
tbe door behind him last night, as it was his
habit to do.
-Enter, than; the key is on yow side, is ft
Xtotr
“Ah, It ft true!" Next minute h* had en
tered the room, and coming to my bedside,
handed me the two letters.
“What o’clock is it, PHrreff
“It ft half-past eleven, Monsieur."
| “How! Half-past eleven! Why, ft ft a
veritable twilight in this roomf*
“if Mcmrieur looks at th* window be will
see the reason of that."
I looked at t!y window in the refling of our
attic room, and saw that it was covered with
sdow.
“What frightful weather! You will find
two faggots in tbo closet, Pierre; have tho
goodneta to light a Are, and hang these clothe*
before it. And make as little nohe as po*-
siWe, if you please, M. Girard still sleeps. ”
“M. Girard was very late re
marked Pierre; “it was after two when I let
him in."
“So late as that!" I mid, mrprteed. Raoul
c»uld apt then have gone to visit Mme. Du
maineand Gabriella; be nwrer stayed tbere
after 11 at latest. Where had he been!
WhO* Fierro was making up the fire, I
read the letter be had brought ma. It was
from my father, in answer toon appeal for
jnasey-a desperate appeal, and ogdm, as I
Mad expected. Unlflce myself, my father was
amaaof principle; sod one of hft prtoriptee
—tte one I feuad personally most tocota
vunisat—was this: No* a sou till qnartcr-day.
Ka wMt Wi.AlSgLaflqwßnQe, wiudk. tn those
dkyn ’ lAcMgruws y^uU,Twa
accustomed to spend with rapidity. Raoo)
was always poor; I was, at intervals, rich for
a few days; then plunged into frightful pov
erty, owing to my parent’s stern resolve
never to antedate supplies, I had also nu
merous creditors, and had become proficient
in the art of 4 ‘doubling a cape”—that is, slip
ping round a street corner when one of these
appeared. It was my custom, when the funds
began to sink, to leave my comparatively
luxurious room in the Rue do Medicis,
with t’ielr pleasant view over tho
Luxembourg gardens, and install myself in
Raoul’s garret, amid the din and squalor
of tho Rue Dauphine. His companionship
more than made up for the discomfort, tho
cold and the occasional pinch of hunger. Wa
were fast friends, financed in common and
had no secrete 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 ex
amination was now not far off. I had never
regretted my improvidence until now. But,
when I saw how a littlo ready money would
have enabled Raoul and myself to leave
aside all 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 fav
orable answer Dian the exceedingly curt and
decided one I received.
j Pierre hal by this time kindled the fire, and
! was an'anging before it, on the backs of the
j two chairs our attic boasted, Raoul’s damp
clothes and mine. All at once he uttered au
exclamation of surprise, which startled me
from my study of the parental letter. “How!
look then at the coat of M. Girard! The
sleeve is ripped up right to the shoulder!”
. “What! the sleeve ripped up, do you say f
i “Torn completely, Monsieur! But what is
' to be done? Monsieur has but one coat, at
present , and until it is repaired ”
‘ ‘Ho cannot leave this room, of course. It
is very awkward. How can he have done it I"
“If Monsieur desires, I will take the coat
downstairs to Nannette, who will sew ft suffi
ciently well. Monsieur doubtless remembers
what the little tailor at the corner says—that
he will do absolutely nothing more for Mon
sieur until his bill is paid!"
“It is true, I 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 tho 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 done this kind of work once or
twice before, i
Every now and then I looktadl across the
-Raoul not awake.
i to be
; rtratchod forth my *tot>£ at
I the address; letters in those days were
: enough of a rarity to make one curious. The
handwriting was strange to me. I was about
to lay the letter down, when I noticed these
words on the front of the envelope, “Odeon
Theatre.” Imagine my wonder, my delight!
Thare was but one conclusion to be drawn
from a letter which came unaccompanied by
the manuscript. Raoul’s comedy wa* ae
eepted I For week* past I had been telling nay
*elf, I bad been assuring Raoul, that nothing
was more certain to happen than this. But
; now, when it had actually happened—for the
letter seemed sufficient evidence of that—l
could scarcely realize at first that it was true.
The comedy accepted!—that would change
everything! Nb more living in a garret for
Raoul—no more dining at eight sous—no
more translating dry ’’nglish books—and as
many presents on New 'ear’s day as he cared
to buy I In a moment I was out of bed, the
letter in my hand.
“Raoul!” There was no answer. “Raoul!”
—in a louder voka, Still no answer. “Heav
en*! how he sleeps! Raoul!”—laying my
hand on hi* shoulder and gently shaking him.
Still neither speech nor motion. “He must
have been very late last night. Where the
devil can ho have gone? Raoul, waken, won’t
you? Hero is a letter from ”
Just then I caught sight of bis face in the
feeble light of the snow-obscured window.
It* appearance alarmed me—almost gave mo
a shock. It was fever-flushed, and tinged
with purple under the eyes; the lips were
tense; at the corners of the mouth something
like foam had gathered. The breathing was
slow, deep-drawn; this did net, seem to me a
natural slumber. I shook him more violently;
still he did not awake.
I went across the room, and looked into a
drawer of the writing-table, where I knew
Raoul kept a vial containing a solution of
morphia. Ho had been troubled at one time
by insomnia, resulting from overwork, and
tho doctor had given him this as a sleeping
draught. I found the vial; it was empty.
This at first frightened roe terribly, until I
remembered that there could not have been
much more than one dose left in the bots !<>—
certainly not enough to be dangerous. Btill,
Raour* feverish look mado me uneasy. I re
solved on giving him a Ultle time longer to
aweko, 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 I
was startled by Raoul moaning and restlessly
moving his arms, as if sh the act of climbing
—a singular motion. Then he began to talk
in hft siaep, at first loudly; “It is the same—
Ttam Ar bepum to talk tn kit tieep.
& weftl. Yes,
subscription * ro*** Per Ay
jgo; I have it no Jongflr. . , . } aoM
know I sold ft—l sold tt to—ft A-oh. '
cannot remember " Tbea htovefoe boesnio
too faint for meto hear tliewraMx “Wltatthe
devil does he mean by this nons&nseF* Isold
to myself; “perhaps a scene for some future
comedy?” .
I sent out for breakfast—two rolls of
sod a half-bottle of Macon—and remained aS
the afternoon beside Raoul, watching. Abotft
1 o’clock he began to stir uneasily, then opened
his eyes and, seeing me seated by his
stretched out his hand and soiled. I felt
axpressibly relieved.
“What is wrong with you, my dear Raoul!*’
I said; “are you unwell?"
“No, No! Only I have had a bad dream
the worst dream I ever had I” He pasaed hi*
hand over his eyes. ’'BiiFTam awake nuw F
thank God! Have I Eau>r* -
“An eternity! I thought you would never
waken! Do you know, Raoul, you havefite-
Ishxsd tho morphia that was in the vial?”
“Finished it? I don’t seem to remomfaw.-
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 k • >ked at me strangely_
“How cold it Is in this room I” he said; “sew.
how I shiver 1” 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 ft what I shall do. I shall
our two remaining francs on something re
sembling a dinner—oh, yes! I have had
breakfast; I shan’t want to dine till to-mor--
..row, or the day after! By that time, no
doubt, I shall have captured somehow that,
shyest of all creatures, theflve-frauc pfees.
There must ba someone still from whom E
can borrow."
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 com
plained left him; and he soon began to langH.
•nd talk in his usual manner. But he stilM
complained of feeling weak, and I persuaded,
him to remain all day in bed.
“Let us begin at the English book, how
ever," he said-, “for as time is money, as thta
English aay.”
‘•No, ml We need not begin at that*.
Raoul I Y pay say good-by to your trans
lating. The nays of your bondage afo over—
you will never translate agoiu!”
“What in Heaven’s name cb you mean!”
“Open and read!” I cried, giving him the,
I letter. “Here is money, fame—evtjrythingfc
And it has not come a day too soots”
Raoul took the letter; when he saw then
words “Odeon Theatre,” hit face became a,
shade paler, but his hand was wonderfully
steady.
“You are rushingto coiseiusions, Pack” ha.
taid; “this letter is. evidently from the admln
istmtionof the Odoteo, but it may not "
; “It can mean only one thing— tin t the.
comedy ft accepted! Open-ft at acre, for
Heaven’s take! Lot the best er kb*,
worst—though, of is the best. I
'"am sure of it” ■ . -Xz .f ,
i ■•* ‘ ■£ y
Rmuil FTYiiW nnd ryvwaA*h*>tari-wr. Thougtw
he took it more qnmtiy, lxdow he wm quite*
as anxious as myself. I watched Mtn as ho*
read; his glance seemed to fly along tho liner;
a look of ohpost exultation,,
came over his fao*, and I saw that the goo<
news had come. Raoul clasped my hand.
; “You were right,* ho mid; “the enfnedy ft*
accepted.! IteadP—than aoste back a<Uta
Icesly on his pillow.
This was the letter;
ODuqN TnSAMUt, Baa. M, Wflx
“Moxstxvk: Inthenaroeof tboaduafidsetbe
! tion of the Odoou thivUra, X have tbte htsxF'
' to inform you that ruav oomedy, “The Gtfti
: of Touloore," Lm uhu accepted far
• representation at the Odeon.
“In my own name, Monsieur, aDpw tan toe
congratulate you on your wwk. It ft mom>
than amaring; ft is brilliant. This ft the*
; opinion Also of my colleagues who have read.
it. I de.ire. Monsieur, to make your >e
quaintanco, and rojucst you to favor mb by
a visit era an early <ftre.
i “Your comedy wiu be sent almost tmwta
, diately to relicarsal, and win be put <ra tb*>
stage offe r the withdrawal es M. Vkforfe*
piece, “Tho Hunting Parftr*"' I shall have.
, the honor of intthmting tp <ou era lodfc the*
• day on which you will bo requested to senft
your comedy before the fu-ttsts to whom the*
; parts will be allotftd.
| “I subscribe myself, Monsieur, with ffvefy
i assurance of esteem, your very humbly vwy
; obedient servant,
“Desxouetteb, Manager."
I shall not try to describe our proceedfoA
: during tho next quarter of an hour—or rather*
• I should ray my pr'v'sedingH, fob Raoul lay in
I bed laughing,, while I waltaed nou&d the
room, hurled the English book into a corner,
: read tho letter aloud with commcaita, waved
’ it triumphantly aloft, and -'rfonned other
j absurdities; I was, indeed, o-.erjjyed. Raoul
! was going to be a great man!—be would
rival Scribe, Angier, Sardou, those giants es
tho stage—ho would male hft way into Vie
charmed circle of the Comedfa Francoftal I
said all this, which made him laugh more
than ever. He begged me to rit down, before
Pierre came up stairs to see which of us had.
gore mad.
“But you arc ‘atftfiad f" I saM to him, Sink
ing at last, out cf breath, into a eJair.
“Does that letter nrt flatter you suffkdently'!*
“Satisfied—l tZIi you, Paul, tills is wonder
ful I It ft one of those things which happen
once in half a century. Now that ft has hap
pened, I begin to wonder how 1 could ever
have imagined it posriMo!"
“You must goto M. Dasioiirtte»to«ncr
row! You must •
“Ask him for a k»n, ah F*
“And wbynctf He might hav* advanced
you a few napoteons; it ft the only onusakm 1
notice in bis otherwise admirable letter.
Money we most hare. Who, after thft, could
go on translati-rg English f*
“I am not going to borrow from SL Des
nojettea”
“Vei-y goof; there ft toother mxf. Give
me the letter, and I will turn ft into money.
Times will change in t!xe Quartr" before a
man with a comply accrjitM by the Odeon
needs to starve!”
“By all means take the letter sad » *A the
money if you can. Au*l now, like a gopd
'-.How, give n»e pen and f apcr. I have Rxrea
lines to write—vou cb*» gwss to whom.”
“Os course It’s a pfty wv can’t spare her
tin letter, ft it nt-lff
“I will tell her the good new* Row ft will
rejoice her! Last nighk. after I left yeu,
“aul, I saw her. We talked ct this rery
thtag, of the comedy. Uto yea, Gabrie'te
never k»t faith* in it She bre proved to tfce
Mnzfa every night that it might ba oc
[cusTutCßO o> rovara