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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