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taore inute and statue tike if she tsc:
been bom and bred in France, where, in
the presence of gentlemen, young girls
silently adhere to their brilliant mothers,
whose wit and grace and social tact
make the charm of the Parisian salons.
Apparently, the French, consider that the
combined attractions of youthful faces
wild sprightly conversation would be too
iuch for any man, and mercifully di
vide the two. And this leaves them help
ess before a little American girl, laugh
ing, talking, jesting, teasing, till, bewil
dered by such a phenomenon, they are
swept down so easy that one is reminded
of Attila's taunt to the Komans, "The
thicker the grass, tb.2 quicker it is
mowed."
This social etiquette was very irksome
to my little firefly, who seemed always
opening and shutting her wings. In the
course of the evening II. Vergniaud
slipped into her hand, unperceived by
any of us, a closed envelope with the
whisper: "Put it in your pocket. Do not
let any one see you."
She opened it deliberately: "51. Vergn
iaud ia so land as to give me his pho
tograph, Mme. Fleming. Do you think
it a good likeness?"
The mystery which French people are
fond of attaching to harmless trifles is
inconceivable. One evening, in the ear
lier part of our stay in Paris, a cousin of
Miss St. Clair's, who was in the same
hotel with Mr. Denham, called on us,
and when he was taking leave she held
out an unsealed note: "Will you give
this to Fred? Don't forget it."
3Ime. Le Fort was thunderstruck: "la
it possible? Send a note to a young gen
tleman right before 3Ime. Fleming and
all of ust"
"Why," said I, "do young people
never write notes to each other in
France?"
"Not openly like that little three cor
nered notes to slip into the hand while
dancing."
"This is the way to fold them," said
Clarice, taking up a small sheet of paper.
You see that will just lit into the hol
low of the hand, and nobody could ever
see it."
"I like our way much better. What is
done openly is not half so mischievous."
"Nor half so interesting," rejoined
Clarice.
The nimble hours danced on. as they
had a trick of doing in ilme. Le Fort's
salon. "I am afraid you forget the three
balls, M. Vergniaud."
"How can you be so cruel, mademoi
selle? I shall only make my compliments
to the hostess and dance one set at each.
I never do more except when I come
here "
A few days later I asked Helen, "Have
you made upyour mind what answer to
give M. Vergniaud? He intends to write
to your father. He was speaking to me
about it again today."
"I won't have him writing to my fath
er," she replied with her wonted impetu
osity. "I will not have my father wor
ried about nothing. It would be a month
before I could set it right."
"He eems to be very much in love
with you. He says he shall be in despair,
wretched forever, if ybu reject him."
"So they all say I don't believe a
word of it, and I can't help it if they are.
I can't marry more than one of them,
and I don't believe I shall ever marry
anybody. I won't be persecuted to death."
The little princess was irritated. Some
thing had evidently gone wrong. It soon
came out: "1 had a letter from Fred this
morninp; a very disagreeable letter."
"Indeed! You have not yet answered
it, I suppose."
"No: he will have to write differently
from that before he gets any answer from
me. I am not going to be lessoned and
scolded as if I were a little girl. Father
never does it, and I will not submit to it
from him." After a pause: "He is not
so much to blame. It is that odious Mr.
Wilkins, who keeps writing to him how
much attention I receive, and all that.
As if I could help it! Poor old Fred!
We have known each other ever since we
were children."
That explains it, I thought. "Helen,
if you have decided to say no to M. Vergn
iaud, the sooner you sav it the better."
"I have said it and he doesn't mind it
in the least. I wish you would tell him
you always speak so that people know
you are in earnest and can't help believ
ing you."
"Very well, Helen. I will ask 3Imt
l Fort to tell him tliat his suie is Kpe-
leis, and that lie must not annoy you by
persisting in it."
Early in February the Belgian ambas
sador, 31. Ie conite de Beyens and Ma
lume la comtesse kindlv took chanro of
Mu St. Clair to the imperial ball at the j
Tuileries. She had never looked inoro
oharuiing than in the exquisite costume
of pale rote colored faille, with a floating
mist of white tulle, caught here and there
by roebuda that might have grown in
Chriinhild's garden. The airy figure, so
graceful in every motion, the well poised
head ith its flutter of shining curls, the
wonderful dark eyes, the perfect eye
brows, the delicious little mouth where
love seemed to nestle when she had
vanished it beeined like the ceaing of
exquisite music." Madame la comtesse
congratulated me on her appearance, and
afterward on her success. The emperor
had distinguished her in a very flatter
ing manner, and Eugenie. looking earn
estly at her. said to the comtesse. "Noth
ing is so beautiful as youth," perhaps be
ginning to regret her own. No one had
made so decided a sensation.
At Mme. Le Fort's next reception
there was a sudden influx of new guests
a young Belgian baron of old historic
name, slim and stiff as a poker: a brisk
French viscount, who told me that he
had been connected with the embassy at
Washington, and had quite failen in love
with our institutions; an Italian chevalier,
a Russian pnnce.
Uglines: liHsits compensations.thought
I. Nobodr makes such a fuss oter a
pretty gin ai home (they are not so un
common), and 1 will" never bring one to
Paris atpim. Thank heaven! we are go
ing to Italy scon.
The piercing Tramontane came down
upon us in the bay of Napies with so
fierce a blast that ,we doubted if we were
tioi in Iceland, and were glad to make
;ir escape to Rome, where we found an
v -ylum in the Hotel de Minerve, not far
rrom the Pantheon. Many of the old
palaces and convents of Italy have been
transformed into hotels. This was the
ancient palace of the princes of Conti. I
was so captivated by the superb dining
room that the quality of the dinners
made but a faint impression. What! eat
in the presence of all those marble god
desses, looking down upon us. serene and
culd. as if from their thrones on the starry
Olympus! Or if I turned my eyes reso
lutely away from Juno, Ceres and Mi
aerva, they were sure to be snared by the
dancing girls of Pompeii stepping out
from the frescoed walls or inextricably
entangled in the lovely garlands of fruit
and flowers that wound their mazy way
along the borders.
One evening, while wo were waiting
for one of the endless courses of a table
d'hote dinner, my wandering eyes were
caught by the most perfect human head
I had ever seen. It seemed that of the
youthful Lord Byron, so well known in
busts and engravings the small head
with high forehead and clustering dark
brown curls, the perfectly molded chin,
the full, ripe beauty of the lips. The
eyes were a deep blue, but I thought
them black at first, they were so darkly
shaded by the thick black lashes. I am
convinced that Byron must have had
just such eyes, for some of his biographers
describe them as black and others as blue.
When he rose from the table I saw a
slight, well knit figure -of exquisite pro
portions, like the Greek god of love.
(Not Cupid with his vulgar arrows, but
the true heavenly Eros. I saw him
once in the museum at Naples and
again in the Vatican. Is it Love, or
Death, or Immortality? I queried,
and then I knew it was the three in
one.) I soon learned that the youth
whose ideal beauty had impressed me so
strongly was the Count Francisco de Al
vala, of Toledo, in Spain. I fancy that
his eyes were as easily attracted to beauty
as mine; for the next day he was my visa-vis
at table; not for the sake of look
ing at me, I was well aware, but on ac
count of my beautiful neighbor. How
ever, he sought my acquaintance with
the grave courtesy becoming a grandee
of Spain, and naturally gained that of
Miss St. Clair also.
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There teas a sudden influx of new guests.
It is the most natural thing in the
world to make acquaintances in Rome.
People talk toge er of the things they
have seen or wish to see: they go to the
same places by day. and in the evening
they meet in the ladies' parlor to com
pare their impressions. The young count
never failed to join us in the evening.
He had always something to show us
prints of his home in Spain, articles of
virtu that he had bought, sketches that
he had made, for he was a good amateur
artist.
A group of young people of different
nations generally collected on these oc
casions, and the conversation often turn
ed on the usages peculiar to their re
spfctive countries.
"In Spain I could not greet a lady with
a simple good evening." said the count,
"I should say, 'Permit the humblest of
your servants to lay himself at your feet,'
or something like that."
"Why do you not say it to us?' asked
a bright eyed Canadian girl.
"Well, it might be a little awkward if
you should happen to take it literally.
In Spain it is the merest commonplace."
"If such exaggerated phrases are frit
tered into commonplaces, and the most
impassioned words grow meaningless,
what can a Spanish gentleman find to say
when his heart is really touched?" I in
quired. "I fancy wo should find some very
simple words to say it in," said the boy,
flushing hkea girl. "But I do not know
I have never learned."
"Talk some more," commanded the
little princess
t i rs
"If a pretty young lady is walking mtneck) tQ whichwas attached a lar;
our streets a mantle is often flunjr sua
denly in her way, and proud and happy
is its owner if she deigns to set her dainty
foot upon it."
"What do they do that for? Because
the streets are so muddy?" inquired an
obtuse young woman. But nobody vol
unteered to enlighten her.
"Cannot we go to Spain?' asked MLsa
St. Clair. "I should like to see a mod
ern Sir Walter Raleigh."
"If the senorita should appear in our
streets thev would be strewn with man
tles," said the young count gallantly.
"Would you throw down youis for
me to step upon?'
"Surely, senorita."
"I'll come then. It must be of velvet,
mind."
"Yes. studded with jewels."
I loved the beautiful youtii. His pres
ence was like a poem in my life, and if
it ever occurred to me that the familiar
intercourse of trie voung people might
not be altogether prudent, I dismissed it j
with the thought. He is only a boy. .
There was to be an illumination of the
Coliseum. We were going of course,
and Count Alvala begged that I would '
honor lum by making use of his carriage
on this occasion. "Thank you, but Ij
have already spoken to Piero to come for ,
us." j
"Oh. but we can send liimaway. You
will find my carriage more comfortable,
and it will be in every way pleasanter," i
he urged beseechingly; but my negative '
was peremptory.
Eight o'clock came. Miss St. Clair 1
and I descended to the court of the hotel,
but where was Piero? "It is singular.
Hrf trie nnror li-r Yfrya K1- T ,,i rn-. !
ndent"that he"will be here presently
r I,., .,r,i r ,,v o ki., ' i
The minutes went by, 3nd they were
long minutes. It was awkward waitinsr
in so public a place. The count had
joined us with his friend, an Italian mar- j
quis some SO years of age. with whom
we una a sngnt acquaintance, ine
count's handsome equipage was drawn
up near us. There was no Piero. j
"I really think you had better accept j
mr- rAMnf, f-rtonrl iviTTTirm Tt- Tr.Ir? I
FwVr ; r ,nn,lV sia !
- f. "" - c- wr-..v..t,
said the marquis.
We entered the carriage. The count
wrapped us in a magnificentfeather robe,
such as the Montezuinas wore, for the
April nights in Rome are chill, however
hot the sunsliine. It was strange to see
the Forum, ordinarily solitary and des
olate, now thronged with an eager mul
titude on foot and with numerous open
carriages, in which were seated ladies in
full dress as at the opera with us. Ar
riving at the Coliseum, we left the car
riage and passed through the huge por
tal. Tha cloorav arches were ohscurAlv
seen in the dusky Roman twilight, when
suddenly, as if by magic, every arch and
crevice of the gigantic ruin glowed, in
carnadined, as if dyed with the blood of
the martyrs that had drenched its soil.
There were salvos of artillery, bursts of
military music and a few vivas from the
multitude. A brilliant spectacle, but the
tender beauty of moonlight harmonizes
better with the solemnity of ruins.
Rapt in the memories that the scene
awakened, I paid little attention to the
monologue of my Italian friend, when
I was suddenly roused by the question,
"Did you ever see a prettier couple?"
"Who?"' I asked absently.
"There," ha rejoined, pointing to the
count and Miss St. Clair, who preceded
us.
"He is too young," I replied, but the
question was asked so significantly that
it disturbed me a little, and I resolved
to be more cautious than heretofore.
The next morning Piero appeared with
his carriage to take us to the Baths of
Caracalla. He hoped madame did not
lose the illumination. He was wretched
to disappoint madame; he begged a
thousand pardons. Hia little boy was
taken violently ill: he was forced to go
for the doctor: madame was so good.
The truth flashed upon me: "Piero,
how much did the count give you to stay
away last night?"
his
A gleam of humor twinkled
black eyes, but it was speedily quenched:
"I do not understand what madame
wishes to say."
It happened that a friend and country
woman at our hotel was taken ill with
typhoid fever, and amid the anxieties of
her sick room the incipient love affair
was almost forgotten. I no longer spent
the evenings in the parlor. One day
Miss St. Clair showed me a tiny satin
bag beautifully embroidered, with a soft
silken chain to pass around the neck.
"What can it be for?" she asked.
"Why, Helen, it is an amulet. Where
did you get it?'
"The count gave it to me. He had
the loveliest set of Byzantine mosiacs and
peari3 which he wished to give me; and
when I would not accept them beseemed
so hurt that I did not like to refuse this
trifle. What do you suppose is in it?"
"A relic of some'saint, without doubt.
He thinks it will protect you from fever,
perhaps."
Like most Americans, we were desi
rous of seeing the pope, and Count Al
vala obtained for us the necessary per
mission. We were to be received on a
Saturday at 11. We went in the pre
scribed costume, black silk, with the i
picturesque Roman veil thrown over the i
head. From the foot of the scala regia i
(royal staircase) one of the papal guard.
in a motley suit which seemed one glare
of black and ye'kw, escorted us to the
door of a long corridor, known as the
Loercria of Rauhael. where we were re
ceived by a higher official in rich array
ftf printwn rplrpf A hnnt tmrrant-rr nnr.
sons were seated in row3, facing each
other, along this gallery, nearly all laden
with rosaries to be blessed by the noly
Father. We waited till my neck ached
with looking up at the exquisite frescoes,
fresh and tender in coloring as if new
from the hand of the master, when the
pope appeared, attended by a cardinal
on P.-inli hnnd. Wp foil on nur 1,-nPM
instantly, but not till I had heen an old
man's face so sweet and venerable as to
make this act of etiquette a spontaneous
homage. He passed slowly down the
line, saying a word or two to ach, and
extending his hand, white and soft like
a woman's, to be kised.
Pausing by the young count, who was
kneeling beside me, he said impressively.
"Courage and faith have always been
attributes of the house of Alvala. Your
I fathers were good children of the church,
' and you, my son, will not be wanting in
i any of the qualities of your race."
When he had passed us we rose from
our knees, and I could observe him more
closely He wore a close fitting white j
cap on ms nneiy snaped neau: a long
robe of white woolen cloth buttoned up
I in front, with a sraaH cape of the same '
material, a white sash, gold embroidered
at the end; a long gold chain around his
, golden cross: a seal ring on the third
j finger of his right hand; and red slip
pers. Soft snowy locks fell from under
' the white skull cap over a noble fore
head, which years an;' trials had left un
1 wrinkled. Black eyebrows and the soft
dark eyes made a pleasant contrast to the
I whiteness of hair and brow; and his
. smile was so sweet and winning that I
j scarcely wondered to see two Catholic
j ladies prostrate themselves and kiss his
feet and the hem of his white garment
i with a rapture of devotion from which
his attendants with difficulty rescued
him. He lingered longest by a pretty
boy 4 or 5 years old. and there was a
' pathos in the caressing clinging touch of
his hand as it rested on the child's head
j that called to mind an old love story of
the handsome Count Mastai Ferretti
wnen he wore the uniform of an officer
of the guards, and had not yet thought
of priestly robe or papal crown. I won
der if he remembered the fair English
I girl now?
Having completed the round, he made
a brief address, the purport of which was
that he was about to give us his blessing, f
and he wished that it might be diffused j
to all our families and friends, and be j
not for the present moment only, but ex
tend through our whole lives and abide l
with us in the hour of death; "but re- I
member," said he with a kind of pater-
nal benignity, "that the gates of para
dise open rarely to any who are without J
the communion of the holy Catholic
church. Sometimes perhaps sometimes j have been waiting for her all the even
but with great difficulty." He extend- in."
I ed his hands. We drooped on our knees
'd . man,' whom tho .p, j
Christendom revere as the earthly head
of the church.
As we were making our way through
the stately columns of the colonnade
which forms the approach to the Vatican
I saw the count glance at the amulet
which Helen wore. "What is in it?" I
asked.
"A relic of the blessed St, Francis, my
patron," he replied.
"It will lose its efncacv on the neck of
a Ii"le heretic like Miss St, Clair," said
I with a purpose.
"It will do her no harm," said he
coldly.
Monday I was at the table d'hote, the
first time for a week. I found the count
seated next to Miss St. Clair. It was
i very simple, she explained to me after
! ward. A lady occupied his seat one
d3v, and he came round to the onlv
vacant one, which liaoDened to be next
I hers. I am a very ruHeless rerson, but
I think v incenzo had an excellent reason
for letting it haonon. Hlen was on niv I
left hand astfjjid, and the Italian mar- i
quis on my right.
"I am sorry for that bay," said he to
me; "he is very unhappy."
"The young count? What is the mat
ter?" "Don't von see? He is .madly in love
with your bewitching little American. It
is his first impression, and he takes it
hard. Well, he will have to learn like
the rest of us."
'-1
X3&2 itfML, (r
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s:
"Don't you seef He is i.xadhj in lore."
"I hope you are mistaken;" and I
glanced uneasily at my young neighbors,
t who were too much absorbed in their
own conversation to heed that between
the marquis and myselt. , -
"That is impossible. He raves to mo
about her. It is very pretty, too a per
fect idyl, all poetry and romance; eternal,
unchangeable and all that boyish non
sense. We older men know better. But
monsignore will be here soon, and he
will look after him."
"Who is monsignore?"
"The archbishop of Toledo, his guar
diau. He has been here, but some dio
cesan matter called him home. He will
be back anon, and then the count will
dine at home. As to thatr he does now,
and delicious dinners they are, too. He
only makes a pretense of eating here,
just to have a chance to 6ee his little
j djTinjtv "
"He was here when we came."
"True, but only for a day or two while
his house was put in order. The house
is well worth seeing one of the fineston
the Corso. It is not open to strangers,
but if you would like to see it"
"Certainly not," I interrupted, a little
Irritably, the more so from the conscious
ness of having been a somewhat careles3
chaperon. I was coming sharply up to
the line of duty now. at all events.
"Helen," said I when we rose from the )
dinner table, "do not go into the parlor I
now. Lome into mv room a little wnue,
J please. Well, Helen." I resumed when
we were seated by the pleasant window.
I have seen so little of you for a week
j P881 5"ou muit 8a Si"eat deal to
i vcii ixiu.
"I do not know," she replied. "I have
been out every day with the Glenns, just
as you arranged for me, and I have been
in the parlor in the evenings, and some-
i times l sano. and ne nJeht there was a
i t rencn gentleman
I "How about the young count? The
, Italian says he is very much in love with
i you. Df you know it?"
"He has told me so often enough, if
that is knowing it," with a quick, impa
tient toss of the small, graceful head.
"Oh, Helen!" I cried in real distress,
"and what did you say to him?"
"Why, what could I say in that great
parlor, with everybody looking on? I
just hushed him up as well as I could.
There is the tall English girl and that
marp eyed Miss Donaldson, who are
watching us the whole time. It is real
mean in them," excitedly. "And the
;ount doesn't mind letting everybody
know how much he admires me. In
fact, he is proud of it, like one of the old
knights, who used to wear their ladies'
i favors as openly and proudly as they
hore their knightly banners."
This will never do, Helen. Don't '
vou see that this boy is not like the gay i
Frenchman that you danced with last '
winter? Rene Vergniaud was a man of i
he world: he could take care of himself, i
But this beautiful boy, with his intensity
of feeling, his ideal passionate love
You must not play with him," 1 ex
:laimed vehemently.
"I am not playing with him: I never
lo anything to make him like me. He
comes and talks to me, and I just make
myself as agreeable to him as I can, that j
is all."
That is all. is it, vou little mischief? '
thought I. As if that were not the very
refinement of coquetry! But I prudent
ly refrained from saying it. for a tempest
of hot tears began to fall, and she sob
bed. "Oh. Mnie. Fleming, I did not think
I was going to forfeit your good opinion.
What can I do? I can't help his liking
me. I like him too, and that makes me
feel so badly."
"Do you like him better than Mr. Den
ham?' "Better than Fred?' in a tone of sur
prise. "Why no. of course not: I have
known Fred always."
"The best thing will be to tell him of
Mr. Denham."
"Oh. no, I never can."
"I will, then."
"Don't, I beseech you. We shall go
away soon, and that will be the end of it.
Promise me you will not, I would
rather tell liim myself if I ever have a
chance."
I looked in to see my invalid friend,
and then descended to the parlor, where
I foimd the young count almost alone.
He looked up eagerly as I entered: "I
thought Miss St. Clair was with vou. I
"Indeed!"
"I told her at table that I wished to
see her particularly this evening."
"Perhaps she did not understand yon."
"Oh, yes, she did. You would not let
her come?' with a sudden lighting up of
the expressive face.
"I did not forbid her coming; I did
not know that vou were waiting for
her."
Then with a sudden boyish candor and
a happy smile on his animated counte
nance: "I thought you might have ob
served that I come here so often because
I like to talk with Mis3 St. Clair. But
vou never can know how dearlv I love
her."
"I am sorry."
"Why?" with s naive surprise.
"She is older than you."
"How old is she?
"She will be 20 in May."
"And I am 19 this very week. What
is one poor little vearr not a year," glee
fully. "But the difference in religion?
An obstacle, I grantr but not an in-
sutMsrable one. Mv uncle married an
EnsUslj lady, a Protestant, and they have
:sr ! zr-' -
been very happy together.""
"But I think there is another man," I
stammered, surprised at finding my out
posts carried so easily.
"You do not mean to say that she is
compromised with any man?' almost
fiercely.
"I do not know what meaning you at
tach to that word," for the count's im
perfect French was not always intelli
gible. "There is a young man. the son
of a neighbor, who has admired her a
long time."
"Oh, he admires her? with a curl of
the exquisite lips, as if to say, "Who
does not?'
"But I think she may like him a little."
"Why do you torture me so? Tell me
at once that they are betrothed," cried
he, pale with concentrated anger.
He thought she had trifled with him, I
knew instantly, but quietly said: "I can
not tell you exactly in what relation they
stand to each other, but I think Miss St,
Clair would if she found an opportunity
to speak with you."
"You do not know how I have tried to
make opportunities. I go everywhere,
hoping to see you, and I have never met
you not once. Won't you ask her to
come down to-night?' coaxinglv, like a
child.
"Not to-night: it is too late."
"I must see Miss St, Clair to-night."
"Impossible."
"I must seo Miss St. Clair. Find out
for me when I can see her. I will go
with you," in a white heat of passion.
(We had been alone for some little time.)
I took the arm which he held out, not
a little agitated by the excess of emotion
which thrilled and quivered through his
youthful frame, as he hurried me up the
broad stone staircase and along the wide
corridors that led to our rooms. What
business had I to meddle? How should
an old fogy like me know anything of
the love affairs of this generation? The
girl would have managed more wisely
than I, I reflected, by no means jubilant
over the result.
"Wait here;" and I walked on to Miss
St. Clair's door, opened it. and there sat
Helen in her pretty white wrapper,
bathed in the moonlight, serene as a star,
as if there were no passionate young
heart breaking in waves of anguish at
her ieet. "Helen, the count is in the
corridor, and he will not go till I have
told him when you will see him."
"How can I? You must think for me."
A hasty consultation. The count was
standing where I had left him. "We
shall be at tb.e Sistine chapel to-morrow
at 2 o'clock."
He bowed and was gone.
I did not sleep well that night. A
pretty person I am to take charge of a
young girl! I wonder what Mr. St. Clair
would think if he knew I had made an
appointment for his daughter to meet a
young Spaniard? On the way, however,
I adnionished Helen, as if no misgiving
of my own wisdom had ever crossed my
mind: "You must be firm with him.
Tell him so decidedly that he cannot
doubt you really mean it."
"Yes said she, "but I do dread it so.
I can't bear his thinking that I encour
aged him."
"Then you did?'
"I didn't mean to, but I do like him;
and I didn't think of his taking it so to
heart. Men are so strange! You think
you have a charming friend, and then
they will go on just so, boys and all, and
you have to take them or lose them; and
you can't take them. It is too bad!"
We were at the door. The keeper
opened it, and there stood the count
waiting for us. It was not the first time
we had been in the wonderful chapel.
Fortunately, there were very few persons
there on this afternoon none that wo
knew. I sat down to look at the grand
frescoes: Helen and the count walked on
to the farthest corner. I looked at the
Cunnean Sibyl, the impersonation of age
and wisdom, and wished, as I glanced at
the youthful figures talking so earnestlv
in the distance, but not a murmur of
whose voices reached my ear, that she
would impart to me her far reaching
vision of futuntv. 1 gazed on the image
of the Eternal Father swecnine in ma-
jestic flight through the air, bearing the
angels on his floating garment as he di
vides the light from the darkness. I saw
Adam, glad with new life, rising from
the earth, because the outstretched finger
of his Creator gave him a conscious
i strength. I looked at "The Last Judjr-
merit," grown dim with years, till every
figure started out in intensity of life, and
it seemed as if the faces would haunt me
forever.
And yonder still progressed the old,
ever new drama of love and anguish,
with its two actors, who seemed scarcely
to have changed their position or taken
their eyes from each other. At length
they walked slowly toward me with more
serenity of aspect than I had dared to
hope.
"Shall we go into the picture gallery?"
asked the count.
"I think we may have time to walk
through it," I answered. "It is half
past 3?'
"Is it possible that we have kept you
waiting so long?" they asked simultane
ously. "An hour and a hslf is a short time in
a place like the Sistine chapel," I re
marked sententiousty
As scon as we were alone I drew Heten
to the confessional: "Did you tell him
about Mr. Denham?'
"Yes, everything, and he was so noble.
I am so sorry. Trio tear stood in his
eyes, and he said: I saUer, but I am a
man. I can bear it Then he thanked
me for dealing so openly with him. He
never once hinted a reproach. And I
deserved it," she said with unwonted
humility. "I never felt before how
wicked it is to fbrt just a little. He is
no: seiSsh, fike some people that I
know;" and ray thought followed hers.
'I don't know but I am a little goos-j to j
let liim go so. If lie were only 28 years
old. and I were free"
The next day we saw nothing of the
rount, but early Thursday morning Ytn--enzo
knocked at my door with a note,
i which Count Alvala informed me that
e was my . and begged earnestly to
ee the beeutifui Mia St, Clair once
'nore; he would n-ver trouble me again
st was the onl day on which we could
-ee the Palace ji the Cssars, and wouki
f I be so good a. permit him to meet U3
f'ere? I hastily penciled a few -word?:
I am waiting for Dr. Valery. I shall
DrobaWvstav with mv sick friend todav.
2fld 3iss St. Clair will not go ont with- '
oet me," aod scot the line by Vincerrw
happv to be rid of the importunate boy
for titis time. I
Two hours later, wh?n the doctor had
pronounced ray friead better, ami I had dstance in any way that I koov."
promised Helen a walk amid the rains ! In Wfttte of the bay aarnestnesA, the
of the Pahuioe. which I Mil no: like to j icsa cf hi oCierlag psursaage to the ja
leave Rome without sesia, I went dowa cure sad isdependeBt Aissarlsaa etraik
to the roll, coffee and eggs, which consti
tute an Italian breakfast, and there sat
the count as vigilant as a sentinel. "Ybu
will go?" said he with a smile.
"I think we may," curtly.
"I shall perhaps meet you there."
When we reached the Farnese gate he
was waiting there, which made the "per
haps" superfluous. We had a long ram
ble over the lonely lull, stretching out
like a green New England pasture, but
where from time to time we came unex
pectedly upon flights of steps which led
to massive substructures of stone, foun
dations of ancient palaces, and to exca
vated halls paved with mosaics and lined,
with frescoes more beautiful than those
of PoniDcii. There were manv statues.
more or less mutilated, and stately brick
arches laden with a wealth of flowering
shrubs, and here and there thickets ' of
tall, dark cypress trees, Iiarmonious with
ruins. My young companions were rather
Eilent, but I fancy their thoughts were
not engrossed with old historic lore. I
made a conscientious effort to force mine
into the ruts of association which I had
supposed to be inevitable in such a spot,
but the bright sunshine, the delicate blue
of the distant Campagna. the Jiving glad
ness of earth and air were too strong for
me, and I inwardlv aonlauded a livelv
American girl who interrupted her dron -
ing guide with the incisive "I don't caro
a snap for Cajsar.
On reaching the gate after our three
hours' ramble I consigned Miss St. Clair
to some friends who were waiting for
her 3nd stepped into the count's carriage.
He seemed to feel bound in honor not to
speak of love to Miss St. Clair since the
revelation of the Sistins chapel, but ho
must have a little solace in talking to me
about it, "It would be easy," said he,
"if she were not fiancee, but that makes
it difficult very difficult indeed. I am
glad it is not going to be for three years;
that is a long time, a very long time."
Then, with a nuddn illumination of face
and a delicious intonation of tlio musical
voice, "Perhaps they will never marry;
perhaps it will bo another man I."
(Blessed infatuation of youth, with its
wonderful perhapses, which never come
to maturer years!)
"One of these years I shall hope to
hear that you are married to a beautiful
lady of 'your own country and your own
religion."
"You never will."
"Oh yes, you will be astonished to find
how easy it is to forget."
"I come of a constant race," said he
proudly. "My father loved my mother,
and they sent hun all over the world to
forget her, but he came home in five
years and married her."
"Even if it were otherwise possible
(which it is not), the difference in re
ligion ought to prevent it. How could
so good a Catholic as you distress your
family by marrying a heretic?'
"Perhaps she would be a Catholic.
(I noticed that he did not say, "Perhaps
I shall becoino a Protestant,") "Don't
you think her father would let her marry
a Catholic?'
"No," I replied stoically.
He was silent and dejected.
"You must forget her," said I kindly.
"It is only a little while since you first
saw her."
"A little while! It is my whole lifer
"Only a few weeks," I continued.
"We shall soon be across the ocean, and
you will see other ladies."
"There is only one Mis3 St. Clair."
"I beg your pardon there are three
of them." Put the boy was too miser
able to notice this poor little sally.
We were npproaching the hotel.
shall not seo vou again at present," said
he. "Monsignore will arrive this even-
in, and I must be at home to recpive
him. But I shall be in Paris by tho mid-1
die of May, and I shall see you there; ,
farewell till then." j
Tho next morning Miss St. Clair and
I were on our war to Florence. A week I
later, on our return from the convent I Inai7. wmaKo mo icei now lar icome
of San Marco, where we had seen the' short of hi ideaL td says that ho
cell of Savonarola and many lovely but I worshlP tho very ground I tread on
faded frescoes of Fra Angehco and Fra 6uS"tly hyperbolical and very original,
Bartolommeo,whom should we find wait-! ou receive," with a batmcal curve of
ing for us in our temporary home on the I her PTCtt? "PS "bat ho never team
Via Pandolfini but Count Alvala? I felt j half satisfied with inc. no ought to
annoyed and mv face must have re-1 knovv T thl timf that J mmi U J
vealed it. for he said deprecatinglv. I "'? ow" littl0 6cif- and I10t a MCOnd
You ought to bo glad to see your boy,
Mme. Fleming, for I have come this
long journey only for a day, expressly
to see you."
"Well," said I, "you took mo so by
surprise that I had not my welcome
ready. I did not expect'tho pleasure of
seeing you till after our arrival in
Pans."
"That is why I am here. I shall not
be able to go to Pans. I am bitterly dis
appointed, but monsignore has made
other plans for me. I am to go to Vienna
to visit my aunt, whose husband is our
ambassador there. The tour to Paria ia
postponed till the autumn."
Evidently monsignore had heard of
the little heretic maiden, and ho was
going to remove his ward from tempta
tion. I was infinitely obliged to him.
A desultory conversation followed, car
ried on principally by the young people,
and then the count said, "Miss St, Claix
tells me that you have visited the Uffizl
and Pitti galleries. May I not go with
you somewhere to morrow? to La Cer
tose or San Mimato, for instance?"
"Thank you," 1 replied; "wo are eo
exhausted with bighc scainc. Miss St.
Clair and I. that we- ehall stay in all day
to-morrow, and we shall be happy to te
you once in the afternoon or evening, as
may be most convenient to you."
I did not like to be hard and crosa to
the dear boy whom my heart yearned
over, but I felt as much bound to "make
an effort" xis if I had been a veritable
Dombey.
The call lasted afternoon and evening
it was only the change of a particle. I
could not reproduce the innocent talk,
half gay, half sad, of this long interriew.
t before he went away the count drew
j measidej "Will you give this to Mi
St. Clair when I arn gone?"
I unfolded the packager it contained
a photograph of himaelf and a email
painting which he had fexcruted of th
Coliseum on tho night of the illnmina
tion. "Yes."
' "And will you nd me her photograph
from Paris? I will bas it copied by the
I best rainjature painter in Rome and pn
in a locket set with diamonds," said the
1 boy enthusiastically.
( "I cannot nrorcise."
"Do you liuiii 1 could be of any use
"Do
to her fathtr? Not lo na bis favor, you
tinderstand, but I fhoold b hsppy to
3o anything to terve her or her friends.
Can't you tell me now?
o. Mr. St Clair doe not need as-
uus.
s sti about zne.n
"Yes.
"I shall learn tospeak English I haTe
begun already and in' a year I shall he
in America. Will you write your ad
dress for me on this card?
I did so.
If you aver come to Spain, remem
ber that my house and all that is in it
are yours."
"I shall never go to Spain."
"Perhaps you will, one day s?e Miss
St. Clair," looking up in my ftica with a
bright smile of inextinguishable hope
"Good-by for a year."
A few more days in Florence, a week
in Venice, a day or two in Milan, and we
j bade adieu to Italy.
i and mystery! when I
Land of beauty
recall thv many
forms of loveliness, the glorious shapes
of gods and heroes serene and passion
less in their white majesty of marble,
the blessed sweetness of saints and Ma
donnas shining down into my soal, I
seem to havo been once in heaven and
afterwaru shut out.
We were once xacrejat home. Almost
the first news that came to us from
abroad was of the terrible war between
France and Germnv. During the pro
tracted siece of Paris we were full of
i anxieties, but at its close we received
' long letters from Moe. Le Fort, giving
manv details of the sufferings and pri
J -.
v&KfcSS
rrsnj?-
Mll - c60l
i -,i a
" Will you pi w fit j to ULs Si. Clair ?u I
am gone?
vations of the siege, eerrowful enough
for tho most part, but enlivened hero
and there with touches of the gay French
humor that nothing can sabdue. Thcro
was a lively sketch of a Christmas din
ner ingeniously got np of several courses
of donkey meat. At Now Year's tho
choicest gift that a gentleman could
make a lady wa3 a piece of wheatcn
bread. Afterwards there was nothing
in tho house but rice and chocolato bon
bons, which they chewed sparingly, a
little at a time. But they kept up their
courage they wero even gay. Hard
ships were nothing, but that Paris ahould
be surrendered at last that was a hu
miliation which nothing could compen
sate. Many of the gay dancers whom
wo had known had fallen in buttlv,
among them Reno Vergniaud. He was
shot in the heart in nn engagement with
the Prussians in tho environs of Parin.
I spent my next summer vacation
with Miss St. Clair in Detroit,
"When is Mr. Denham coming horner"
I asked one evening when wo were alone
together.
"I do not know; ho dcei not speak of
coming home. I am a little puzzled
about Fred. Ho has written me a great
deal latelv about a certain Frauleiu Te
resa, tho daughter of one of hw profes-
j sors, who takes fcucii excellent care of
ner younger orosners aim naier. anu
vho & Buch a wonderfully economical,
! housewifely little body just a new edl-
tion of verthers Charlotte. I do not
think that ho really likes her," she con
tinued, after musing a little; "ho just
holds her up as a modal for me to copy.
I shouldn't wonder if ahe was only imag-
band mutation of somebody olw.
The next day came a letter with tt
German postmark, which vntm to lv
quent on tho subject of Frauluin Torosa
that it elicited the folio-wing reply:
"Detkoit, Aug. 5. 1STL
"Dear Fred I despair of emulating
Fraulein Teresa's many excellencies.
You know what a useless little thing I
am. Happily, it is not too late to mvjkn
anothf r choice. Thinking it may pleai
you, I hereby release you from all your
j promises to inc. e may never be any
thing more to teh other, pcrhap. but I
hope that wohjll nlways be d-ar I Head.
I shall never forjft that we grew up to
gether, and I wish you all possible iap
pinosH. Your iittiw fraal. IIeixx.
In due tune thb answer cam
"HaiDitLBKWJ. Aug- 27, lfiTL
"Mips St. Claix Vour xnaiwhat
singular letter of Augut 5th w dulr
received. If I blived that you had
written it, or ever coskl or would do
anrtning, with proper daiiboratioa, 1
should accept your dt-cbuoa at once.
But as I have good reason to know your
habit of acting from sadden impulses
which you afterward rRrt, I grro yoo
three months to reconsider this hasty
step.
"I have tho honor to bo jour obii:
wrrvam. F. A. DgchjlJl"
Helen held to 3 the open nhf-t
with kindling eyes and glowing cheKt
"Three month! I cioa't ned thrw min
utes: I wouldn't cheage m thre centu
ries. I am gla4 to b I rsT she cried,
sobbing and laughtagar. i&e tamo mo
ment "He haa worried e poor
huh' thing hi mtV
Th next raorahsg I started oa my re
turn to Boston.
Early m October a tcrraut hasdd m
a card fcanag tt &&& Kraaclco Al
vala. I had cavv-d to Uuat of th boy,
cot having heard a word troci him; bat
here he was, looktag vry m&aij. brown
ed with the s-si ud nan. and boauilfol at
Eadfmwa wjn Dioa sttpd to kkv
him And ail : l'i 5 tho wbJi
raoofwiuoe ? tUMavk&i wft" ta
pathy.
AfKr the first grsstJng h- z&al, Ew
is ybu St Cfcir? and tehas did you
her hs!?
I told him of my wesat riglt
"She vs act EstrrJBd i&msg"
"Oa the ooasrary. she i five. Th
engagement with Xr. Dshauat has bca
broken-"
"Whatdld 1 itfl ye? Did I not ta.j
It woeid be IT In a bent f t.huppfe.
Asta awl &crui --- 1 a ha
rriaad u r- u W --r r?0 !
me as lrrestioiy mais
-,3at vou will" tell b
? ..ii t.i
.y j i
. S . ". 'J j-2 -"
& .jggj?J.?.:f-