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WOMAN’S WORLD. •_I -■ . . . ■ 'X.,.-a. X AAiltit Aik* There is no denyiug the supremacy o£ white when one has not many gowns. In a white dress, say of chiffon, if one can risk the delicacy of this material, or in silk muslin, or in silk organdie, or in mull, or silk lawn, or all lace, or veiling, or fancy gauze, or any other of the many fabrics, one can make an excellent appearance many times during the sum mer. Always wearing the one gown. There is a trick in the transformation of a gown. It cannot be done with hows of ribbon, nor can it be accomplished by the putting on, or the taking off, of a lace coat. But it can be brought about by the wearing of a different lining or by the application of floral panels or by the hasty stitching on of a deep flounce of lace. Do not be incredulous" at the thought that lace can differ greatly in color, one piece from another. there are pieces of rare old lace that are as dark and as red as old ivory, and others that are ns white as though bleached on the grass and blued. Spun linen was never more snowy than certain kinds of flounce lace. There are women who have never cultivated a taste in lace, and who find other materials more economical and quite as effective. But for the woman witli a fad for lace and the money, or the luck to possess it there are marvellous possi bilities in the way of dress transforma tions this year. There are so many ways of using the lace flounce, which is so often seen around the neck of a low or semi-low bodice, that, with each gown, the effect is different. One way. quite new. shows a lace flounce a finger and a half deep, set over a little silk ruffle, which is a lit tle deeper than the lace. This is used to border the entire neck of a gown, which is cut low enough to show the shoulders of the wearer. Tiny c-houx of white ribbon are used for fastening a flounce to a skirt and lire woman with lifteen minutes to spare can change her plain white taffeta into a lace trimmed gown, or can give her rose chiffon the one touch needed to make it quite a oream. White broadcloth, very light consider i’g the fact that it is broadcloth, is worn for evening. A favorite model for this material is the Princess and the favor ite trimming is lace. Lace applications, a lace vest, lace garnitures around the neck and sleeves, and lace in incrusta tions upon the skirt greatly lighten the effect of the cloth without adding to its weight or its warmth. The most becoming of all fancies now holds sway, which is for the insetting of lace in a gojvn. The lace diamond set into the yoke, and repeated at frequent intervals, is' as fine and tasteful a thing as could be devised. The lace yoke, the ssieeves with lace points set in at the shoulder, the deep lace cuffs that come to the elbow and the lacey panels let into the skirt, all these give hut a sug gestion of the numerous ways in which the lace can be employed. s As the season deepens flowered goods are more and more in evidence for gowns and even for wraps And coats, and the prettiest pink muslins, silky and figured with little white roses, stretch tlicir dainty lengtiis along the counters. Rib bons in moss green and ruse pink are made into ehoux and placed upon the bodice. What a coat summer it is to be, and a wrap summer, and a summer that calls for something to throw around you. The circular cape retains its hold to a certain extent, but it is not quite pret ty enough, to be very popular. Garments tfcaf look very much as though they were circular capes are fitted out with big loose sleeves and are fastened down the front under shirrings of chiffon. 'Hie shawl, too, holds its own, but it is costly, and one must ever/ consider this important factor in dress. They a-e showing shawls 100 years old, beautiful ly embroidered. These are. truth do tell, decorated here and there with spots to prove that they are old. The spot is now a badlic of beau ty. and no piece of old material, be it lace or silk, is au fait without it. tn tlie newest summer suits of etamine cloth cotton canvas and ladies’ cloth one sees the military jacket. It is hooked all the way down the front and is rigidly severe. Its throat is open and comes down to a point. A collar of silk turns over. Stitched bands of silk are some times used instead of the collar, ahd the wider these bands are the better. Coats with strapped effects are worn. Frequently one sees the straps put on at each side of the front, short straps, three inches long, with a button at each end. But the very newest little stre*t coats show the strappings pointing down • • ward, three at each side of the front. *' * • The furnishing of the summer home has been for several years undergoing its evolution, but has now reached what would seem to' be the height Of perfec tion, both os to its artistic and* its utili tarian purpose. Everywhere massiveness is banished, and tlie light, graceful forms predomi nate. so that now when a woman of gooff taste has a summer home to furnish she decides upon the plain but quaintly artistic mission furniture, willow, prairie grass, bent-wood or old hickory. AU of’these are most desirable and, appropriate, but of them all the prairie grass furniture is the coolest looking and entirely restful to the eye and body. It is made of the wire grass of the great Western plains, but is not like ordinary grass, each blade being a solid fibre several feet long, and is most durable. Tlie color is delightful and harmon ies with well-chosen wall or floor cover ings, being a peculiarly soft shade of rus set green; but as very durable rugs are also made of it room may be fur nished entirely with this lovely material. The priae of this sort of furniture is moderate: its desigus beautiful. It is most comfortable in the using and is. specially adapted to make the summer home look the picture of inviting <#ol uess. Iu either prairie grass or willow one may get great, roomy chairs, settees, tables. stands. tabourets, couches, lounges, divans, davenports, windotv ! seats, hall seats, flower stands and many j other pieces. With the addition of cusli | ions to give pretty touches of contrasting color the scheme of furnishing is re duced to the mere choice between differ ! cut shapes. « The monotony of having all the rooms look similar is easily prevented by having some bf them furnished with the prairie grass and others in willow, finished or* colored in weathered oak, light brown, sealing wax red, forest greeil, Spanish yelloW, buff, violet or enameled white. It comes in ail these artistic finishes. The hall would look well with the light brown, forest green or perhaps the sealing wax red; the library or living room in prairie grass, and the bedrooms in tile violet, buff or White willow, with white enameled beds. With these dainty furnishings, the coverlet, window curtains and loose 'cushion covers correspond, made of some ! of the printed cotton stuffs, dimity, chintz or cretonne. A deep seated Brighton chair of wil low is the most restful chair imaginable, with its wide arms and low pitch. The two-section willow tables are not only a luxury, but a necessity in the well appointed summer home, or one in wood for the piazza, the ball or the sit ting room for books or for tea table, and the willow davenport is most comfortable for a nap. If a lawn party is given this kind of furniture is very ertsily removed and dis-_ tributed about outdoors, the settees, ta bles and chairs being entirely appropri ate for lawn furnishing, and the large living room is thus left bare and may be used for dancing. * * • What sort of men do women, prefer? It is fair to assume that all types of men are. interesting to some types of women, but the question ns to what kind of man is the mostinteresting to the ma jority of women is one that lacks statis tics. And the time may be approaching when this lack will have to be made good. As women succeed in making for themselves independent careers, will they npt grow less susceptible to man’s once paramount and irresistible attraction? We are told by competent authorities that women are marrying later and se lecting their life mates with far more discrimination than in 'the past. Will it not become necessary for the before mentioned statistics to be compiled in order that man may study them and draw the logical deduction as to what he must do to be saved from the mar tyrdom of bachelorhood? For this easy and alluring state be comes martyrdom the moment it is faced as an unavoidable condition. Nobody will envy the man who gathers the sta tistics. What,a life labor lies before him! His work will be a sort of universal en cyclopaedia of the whims of woman, re quiring a brain at once distinguished tot supernatural psychics power and un wearying capacity for labor. But he can not shirk His fate. The need invariably produces the man. The need seems to have arisen. Where is,the man? It is when the summer heat is most intense that the smart girl best reveals her cleverness, says the “Woman’s Home Companion.” Then is the time for light, dainty effects, for telling shades and con trasts, for artful and artistic touches. The smart girl realizes 'that to produce these effects she must know herself thoroughly. She must be able to see herself afloat, afield, on the links or in the wooded lane, and to appreciate just what ik necessary to make the pictffre complete. If is then that touch does it— that magic touch' of taste wltSc-h can render the old new, and clwfnge the familiar into a bewitching surprise. • * • New potatoes and Bermuda onions are delicious cooked together. Peel both vegetables and put them info a frying pan with plenty of butter. Cover clpsely and cook ever so slowly for nearly an hour. At the end of that time both the onions and the potatoes should be ten der and well browned over. The time of cooking necessarily depends somewhat upon the size of the vegetables. • * * Parasols are ngain shown in linen col or. Lace tucking and shirring is a fea ture on the more elaborate parRcol, while a decidedly new Jondi is seen in a metal puff at the point. This i known as the tulip-top. the flower-like petals standing up about the stick and spreading out upon the parasol top as well. The other trimmings lie rather flat on the cover HAIR DRYING DEVICE. Navel Scheme to Prevent Col4« JiKet a Shampoo. Perhaps more people would consent to a shampoo in cold , weather if the danger of taking cold afterward on account of the damp hair could be eliminated. The Philadelphia Times describes a drying apparatus recently Invented by Andreas Bausen of 3 Wil helmstrasse, Wurzburg, Bavaria, Ger many. The claim is made for the de HAIB DRYING APPARATUS. vice that it will dry eveti the thickest hair in a very short time without in jury to the hair or scalp. The arrangement consists of a fan driven by either a water or electric mo tor, forcing a steady current of air through a sinuous pipe and into the flexible tube connected to the pipe. Beneath the convolutions is a gas burner arranged to heat the air in its passage. From the heated pipe the air passes into the flexible tube, the latter being provided at the end with a cup of rubber. This cup is manipu lated by the operator to discharge the air at different parts of the scalp, the temperature of the current being high enough to dry the hair in a compara tively short time. The apparatus is mounted on a stand for easy manipulation about the room and when not in use can be fold ed into small dimensions. /RUSES THAT SAVE LIFE. _j_ How Insects Are Provided by Nature Witli Unique Dls»uises. Nature designs some most wonderful means of protection for her children of the insect world. Science can tell of many instances where odd little crea tures have been furnished with most curious and complete disguises. A collector in British East Africa es- | pied one day what he took to be a fine j foxglove, says a writer in the Phila- ’ delphia North American. He picked ^t j eagerly, when, lb, all of the pretty red ' and blue flowers took wings and flew away. They were homoptera, which had settled in a flock on a plant stalk. They have been made and colored so that a colony, grouping itself on a flower stalk in this manner, may pass for blossoms apd escape the notice of enemies. In breeding geometridse it is known that those placed on Turkish oak as sume a corresponding black color, those placed on dead ivy leaves be come yellow and those on white paper become white. Beetles, too, are 'en dowed with the power to vary their color. A common weevil is red in the red sand of Boar’s hill, Deal, and gray In the gray earth of Sliotover hill, Ox ford. A grasshopper which is brown when found in one part of Helgoland is green in another district. Diverging from the insect world, you find the little British crabs, which know how to dress up In bits of green seaweed to hide themselves from their enemies. The hermit crab has an even more artful trick. He plants a sea anemone on his shell, and as the sea anemone is known by instinct to ev ery marine creature as poisonous the wise little crab is immune from dan ger _ Novel Bath Cabinet. A bath cabinet which makes it prac ticable for an invalid to take a vapor or hot air bath in bed is the invention of Charles -AX. Robinson of Toledo, O., the hot air or vapor being furnished through a pipe from a small heater that stands on the floor. When this device is not in use, it may be folded and packed in a trunk, occupying less than three inches in thickness. Curious Clararcttea. Coffee cigarettes are the latest form of smoking. They are supposed to cure a person of the smoking habit. The cigarette is made of the leaf of the tree, not a compound of the ground bean. _ In all kinds of atmosphere the breath should only be inhaled through the nose, says a writer in Chambers’ Journal. An occasional breath of ex tra pure air through the mouth may be good, but in cars and in most offices and rooms nose breathing is essential. A second rule is, since so much time , is spent in cars and offices and rooms In earning a livelihood and since these places are overheated and underven * tilated—the heating and ventilation be ing out of the control of most of us— we must take in fresh air whenever possible in order that we may restore the balance. The best times to do this will be early In the morning, when the air is freshest, and late at night, when deep breathing will help us to get sleep. We may brenthe correctly while we are waiting In a street, and especially where streets meet. We can soon form an automatic habit of breathing prop k eriyon such occasions. CHAPTER t. M. DE EORGXAC’S PRICK. ONE afternoon I sat alone In the little anteroom before the queen mother’s cabinet. In front of me was an open door. The curtains of. violet velvet, spangled with golden lilies, were half drawn, and beyond extended a long, narrow and gloomy corridor leading into tli6 main salon, of the Hotel de Soissons, from which the sound of music and occasional laughter came to me. My sister maids of honor were there, doubt less making merry 'ns was their wont with the cavaliers of the court, and I longed to l e with them instead of watcmng away the hours in the litiie prison—I can call it no less—that led to the queen’s closet. In the corridor were two sentries standing motionless as statues. They were in shadow, except where here and there a straggling gleam of light caught their armor with dazzling effect, and M. de Lorgnae, the lieutenant of the guard, paced slowly up and down the full length of the passage, twisting bis dr .. mustache and turning abruptly when he came within a few feet of the entrance to the anteroom. I was so dull and weaned tnat it would have been something even to talk to M. de Lorgnac, bear though he was, but he took no more notice of me than if I were a stick or a stone, and yet there were I do not know how many who would have given their ears for a tete-a-tete with Denise de Mieux. I ought not to have been surprised, for the lieutenant showed no more fa vor to any one else than he did to me, and during the year or more I have been here, enjoying for the first time in my life the gayeties of the court, after my days in apron strings at Les paijle, my Uncle de Tavannes’ seat, I had not, nor had a soul as far ns I knew, seen M. de Lorgnac exchange more than a formal bow and a half dozen words with any Woman. He was poor as a, homeless cat, his patrimony, as we heard, being but his sword and a ruined tower somewhere in the Correze. So, as he had nothing to recommend him except a tall, straight figure and a reputation for bravery—qualities that were shared by a hundred others with more agreeable manners—we left M. l’Ours, as we nicknamed him. to him self, and, to say the truth, he did not seem diseompos'ed by our neglect. As for me, I hardly noticed his exist ence, sometimes barely returning his bow, but often have I caught him ob serving me gravely with a troubled look In his gray eyes, and^as ill luck would have It this was ever when I was en gaged In some foolish diversion, ahd 1 had to feel furious, as I thought he was playing the spy on me, and press on to other folly, over which in the sol itude of my room I would stamp my foot with vexation and sometimes shed tears of auger. This afternoon, when I thought of the long hours I had to spend waiting the queen’s pleasure, of the mellow sun light which I could see through the glazing of the dormer window that lit the room, of the gayety and brightness outside, I felt dull and wearied beyond description. I had foolishly neglected to bring a book or my embroidery, so that even my fingers had to be still, and in my utter boredom I believe I should have actually welcomed the company of Catherine’s hideous dwarf, Majosky. It had come to me that perhaps SI. de Lorgnac, who had no doubt a weary enough watch In the corridor, might feel disposed to beguile a little of his tedium and to amuse me for a few min utes, and I had purposely drawn the curtains and opened the door of the anteroom so that he might see I was there “and alone and that the door of the queen mother’s cabinet was shut. I then, I confess It, raft myself irt the most becoming attitiide' 1 6ould think of, but, as I- have said before, he took not the slightest notice of ml and walk ed up and down, trapip. tramp, back ward and forward,'as if he were a piece of clockwork—like that which Messer Co*mo, the Italian, made for monsieur, the king’s brother. I began to feel rurious at me sngui— It was no less, I considered—that be was putting on pie a'nd wished I had the tongue and the spirit of Mile, de Chateauneu, so that I could make my gentleman smart as she did M. de Lux embourg. For a moment or so I pulled at the silken fringe of my tourette-de nez and then made up my mind to show M. de Lorgnac that the rery sight of him was unpleasant to me. So I waited until in his march he came to a yard or so from the spot where he reg ularly turned on his heel and thep; springing up. attempted to draw the curtains across the door. Somehow or other they would not mote, and De Lorgnac stepped forward quietly aud pulled them together. As be did this our eyes met, aDd there wps the twin kle of a smile in his glance, as if he had seen through my artifices and was laughing at them. I felt my face grow warm and was grateful that the light was behind me, but I thanked bim Ici ly, aud with bis usual «Uff bow be turned off without a woed. ' * 1 came back to my spat, my fuce crimson and my eyes sqrlmmiug with tears and feeling that if there was a man on earth that 1 hated it was the lieutenant of the guard. '? ' j It had s'good two twins or so to ruu ' before my time of waiting wouldj be | over, and I may take the plunge now and confess that the lengthened period of attendance to which I was subjected was in a measure a punishment for my having ridden out alone with M. de Clermont, and, owing to an accident that befell my horse, I bad not been able to return until very late. The ill chance which followed all my girlish escapades was not wanting on this occasion, with the result that, whereas ten others might have escaped, I was observed in what was, after all, but a harmless frolic and my conduct reported on, and madanje, who hbd a weak enough eye for follies and sometimes sins that were committed by rule—she loved to direct our ill doings—rated me soundly and* imposed the penance and perhaps the worse punishment that was to fol low on me. In the anteroom there was but a cush ioned stool for the lady in waiting, and this was placed close to the door so that one could hear Queen Catherine calling, for she never rang for us as did the I.orrainer for even such ladies of the Duchesse de Nemours, the mother I of Guise. I pushed the seat closer toward tne door and, hardly thinking what I was doing, leaned my head against the woodwork and dropped off into a sort of troubled doze. How long I slept in this manner I cannot say. but I wa9 suddenly aroused by tbe distinct men tion of my name, followed by a laugh from within the cabinet. I looked up in-affright, for the laugh was the king’s, and for the moment I wondered how he had passed in; then, reeolleeting-the private passage, I knew that he must ( have come in thence. I would have withdrawn, but the mention of my name, coupled with the king’s laughter, aroused my curiosity, and I remained in my position, making, however, a bar gain- with my conscience by removing my head from the carved oak of the door. It was my duty to be where I was, and, although I would make no effort to listen, yet if those within were talking of me and loud enough for me to hear I thought it no harm to stay, especially as it was Henri who was speaking, for I knew enough to be aware that no one was safe from his scandalous tongue. 1 may have been wrong in acting as I did. but I do not think there is one woman in a thou sand who would have done otherwise, supposing her to be as I was, but one and twenty years of age. So thick, however, was the door that, my head once removed, I could heat but snatches of the converse within. “It is his price, madame,” I heard the king say, “and, after all, it is a cheap one considering her escapade with De Clermont. Morbleu! But he is & sad dog!’’ ! - And then came another surprise, fot | the gruff voice of my uncle, the Mar shal de Tavannes, added: “Cheap or dear, I for one am will ing that it should be paid, and at once. She has brought disgrace enough on our house already. As for the man, if poor he is noble and as brave as his sword. He is well able to look after bcr.” “If he keeps his hea<V’ put in the ! king, while my ears burned at the un complimentary speech of my guardian and my heart began to sink. Then I came something I did not catch from Catherine, and after that a murmur of Indiscreet voices. At last the king s hi£h pitched tones rose again. It was a voice that seemed to drill its way through the door. “Enough! It is agreed that we' pay in advance. Eh, Tavannes? Send for the little baggage, if she is, as you say, here, and we will tell her at once. The matter does not admit of any delay. St. Blaise! I should say that after thirty a man must be mad to peril his neck for any woman!" I rose from my sect trembling all over with anger and apprehension, and, as I did so the queen mother's voice rang out sharply: “Mile, de Mieus!” The next moment the door opened and the dwarf Majosky put out his | leering face. “Enter, mademoiselle! he saia, witn a grotesque bow, adding in a rapid, malignant whisper as I passed him, “You are going to be married—to me.’’ At any other time I would have spared no pains to get him punished for his insolence, but now so taken aback was I at what I had heard that I scarcely noticed him and entered the room as if in a dream. Indeed it was only with an effort that I recollected myself sufficiently to make my rever ence to the king. He called out as I did so: “Mordieu! I retract, Tavannes! 1 retract! Faijh, I almost feel as if I could take the adventure on myself!” A slight exclamation of annoyance escaped the queen, and Tavannes said coldly: “Perhaps your majesty had better in form my niece of your good pleasure,” adding grimly, "and I guarantee ma demoiselle's obedience.” There was a minute or so of silence. 1 during which the king was. asit were, picking his words, while I stood before him. Slajosky shuffled down at Cath 1 eriue’s feet and watched me with his [.Kicked, blinking eyes. I do not remem i ■' : ^ ber to nave looked around me, and yet every little detail of that scene will re main stamped on my memory until the day I die. Madame, the queen mother, was at her secretary, her fingers toying with a jeweled paper knife and her white face and glittering eyefc fixed steadily on me—eyes with that pitiless look in them which we all knew so well and which made the most daring of us tremble. A little to my right stood De Tuvannes, one bund on the back of a chair and stroking his grizzled beard with the other. Before me, on a cof fer, whereon he had negligently thrown himself, was the king, and he surveyed me without speaking, with a half ap proving, half sarcastic look,that made my blood tingle and almost gave me back my courage. In sharp contrast to the solemn black of Catherine’s robes and the stern, sol dierly marshal was the figure of the king. Henri was dressed in his favor ite colors, orange, green and tan, with a short cloak of the same three hues hanging from his left shoulder. Ilis pourpoint was open at the throat, around which was clasped a necklet of pearls, and he wore three ruffs, one such as we women wear, of lace that fell over the shoulders, and two smaller ones as stiff as starch could make them, lie wore earrings, there were rings on his embriatjereej gloves, and all over his person, from his sleeves to the aigret “You are going to be married.—to me.” he wore on the little turban over his peruke, a multitude of gems glittered. On his left side, near his sword hilt, was a bunch of medallions of ladies who had smiled on him, and this was balanced on the other hand by an equally large cluster of charms and relics. As he sat there he kept tapping the end of one of his shoes with a lit tle cane, while he surveyed me with an almost insulting glance in the mock ing eyes that looked out from his paint ed cheeks. The silence was like fo have become embarrassing had not Catherine, impa tient of delay, put in with that even voice of hers: “Perhaps I had better explain your majesty’s commands.” And then with out waiting for an answer shewent'on, looking me straight in the face: "Mademoiselle, in his thought for your welfare—a kindness you have not deserved—the king has been pleased to decide on your marriage. Circum-' stances necessitate the ceremony being performed at once, and I have to tell you that it will take place three hours nonce. His majesty will do the honor of being himself present on the occa sion.” This was beyond my worst fears, li was speechless and gldnced from one to the otlier in supplication, but I saw no ray of pity in their faces. Alas, these were the three iron hearts that had sat and planned the massacre! The queen’s face was as stone. The king half closed his eyes, and his lips curled into a smile, as If he enjoyed the situation. But my uncle, within whose bluff exterior was a subtle, cruel 'heart, spoke out harshly: “You hear, mademoiselle! Thank the king and get you gone to make ready. I am sick of your endless flirtations, and there must be an end to them. There must be no more talk of your frivolities.” Anger brought back my courage, and, half turning away from Tavannes, I said to the queen: “I thank the king, madame, for his kindness. Perhaps you will add to It by telling me the name of the gentle man who intends to honor me by mak ing me his wife.” “Arnidleu! She makes a point,” laughed the king. “She shall marry a stick if I will it,” said De Tavannes. But madame. the queen mother, lifted her hand In depre cation. y "It is M. de Lorgnac,” she said. “De Lorgnac! De Lorgnac!” I gasp ed, hardly thieving my ears. “Oh. madame, it is impossible! I hate him! What have I done to be forced into this? Your majesty," and I turned to the king, “I will not mayy that man.” ✓ “Well, would you prefer De Cler mont?” he asked, with a little laugh: But De Tavannes burst out: "Sire, this matter admits of no delay. She shall marry Do Lorgnac if I have to drag her to the altar.” “Thank you. monsieur.” I said with a courtesy; "it Is kinduess itself that you. the Count de Tavannes, peer and marshal of France, show to your sis ter’s child.” He winced at my words, but Cath erine again interposed: “Mademoiselle, you do ' net under ■Lmd, and If 1 bjprt £0U nojv it la your TflE \WS^LIXTZ.ES AB. ._ | § am EME/sGErrsc Pv>qv2T L-> AN /JVTETZF'Efi&S WrYf-f Tf*E7f? flsgy* 5CT IN-TSE-ST/GStr/OArS-. FIND NEPTUNE. . I mtn fault Let me tell you that for a tithe of your follies Mile, de Torigny was banished from court to a nun nery. You may not be aware of' it, but the whole world, at least our w*rld, and that is enough for us, is talking of your affair with De Clermont, who, as you well know, is an affianced man. It is for the sake of your house, for your own good name and because you will do the king a great service by obeying that this has been decided on, and you must—do you hear?—must do as we bid you.” She dropped her words out one by one, cool, passionless and brutal in their clearness. My face was hot with shame and anger, and yet I knew that the ribald tongues that spared not the king’s sister would not spare me. I, the heiress of Mieux, to be a byword in the court! I to bo married out of hand like a laundress of the coulisse! It was too much. It was unbearable. And to be bound to De Lorgnac above all others! Was ever woman wooed and wed as I? I burst into a passion of angry tears. I went so far as to humble myself on my knees, but Henri only laughed and slipped out by the secret door, and De Tavannes followed him with a rough oath. “Say this is a jest, madame!” I sob bed out to the queen. “I am punished enough. Say it is a jest! It must be so. You do not mean it. It is too cruel!” “No more is happening to you than what the daughters of France have to bear sometimes.” “That should make you the more pit iful, madame, for such as I. Let me go, madame, to a nunnery—even to that of Our Lady of Lespaille—but spare me this!” “It is impossible'" sne saiu suarpiy. “See, here is Mme. de Martigny come, and she will conduct you to your room. Tush! It is nothing after all, girl, and it will be better than a convent and a lost name. Do not make'a scene.” I rose to my feet stunned and bewil dered, and Mme. de Martigny put her arm through mine and dried my eyes with her kerchief. “Come, mademoiselle,” she said. “We ■have to pass through the corridor to gain your apartment. Keep up your heart!” “I offer my escort,” mocked the dwarf, “and will go so far as to take M. de Lorgnac's place if your royal pleasure will allow. Ah! Ah!” And he broke into a shriek, for Catherine had swiftly and silently raised a dog whip and brought it across his shoulders as he sat crouching at her feet. “Begone!” she saih. “Another speech like that, and I will break you on the wheel!” Then she turned to Mme. de Martigny. “Take her away by the private door. She is pot fit to see or be seen now. Tell Pare to give her a cordial if she needs it, and see ihat she is ready in time. Go, mademoiselle, and be a brave SirU” _ CHAPTER II. BY ORDER OF THE KIXO. YOU who read this will please remember that I was but a girl and that my powers of re sistance were limited. Some of you perhaps may have gone through J the same ordeal—not in the rough and j ready way that I had to-'inake the pas sage, but through a slower if not less j certain mill, the result being the same I in both cases—to wit, that you have I stood, as I did, at the altar with vows on your lips that you felt In your heart were fajjje. A thought had struck me when I was j led back to my room, and that was to J throw myself on the mercy of De j Lorgnac, but means of communication j j with him were denied to me by the foresight of my persecutors. Even my maid. Mousette, was not allowed to j see me, and Mme. de Martigny, though i kindness itself in every other way, ab solutely refused to lend herself to my I suggestion that she should aid me, if only to the extent of bearing a note from me to my future husband, In which I meant to implore him as a j man of honor and a gentleman not to j force this marriage upon me. I then tried Tare, who, by the queen’s com mand, had been sent to me. He brought me a cordial with his own hands, and to him I made my request, notwith standing all Mme. de Martigny's pro tests, to carry my note to De Lorgnac. He listeaed with that acuta, atteatittu pecunar 10 nun anu answered: “Mademoiselle, I have net yet dis covered the balsam that will heal a severed neck. You must excuse me.” When he left, lime, de Martigny tried to comfort me In her kindly way. “My dear,” she said, “after all it is not so very terrible. I myself never saw M. de Martigny more than twice before we were married, and yet I have learned to love him, and we are very happy. Believe me, love before mar riage does not always mean happiness. | In five years it will become a friend ship; that is all. It is best to start as I did, so that there will he no awaken ings. As for De Lorgnac. rest you as sured that monsieur is well aware of the state of your mind toward him, else he would never have taken the course he has adopted. Be certain, therefore, that all appeal to him will be in vain.” I felt the force of the last words and was silent, and then De Clermont's face came before me very clear and distinct, and with a sob I broke down once again and gave way to tears. I will pass over the rest of the time until I found myself ready for the cere mony, noting only with surprise that I was to be married in a riding habit, as if the wedding was to be instantly fol lowed by a journey. Unhinged though I was, I asked the reason for this, but Mme. de Martigny could only say that it was the queen’s order, and 1 honestly believe she had no further ex planation to offer. At the door or the oratory tne mar shal met me and led me Into the chapel, which was but dimly lighted and where my husband that was to be was already standing booted and spurred, ready, like myself, to take to horse. There were a dozen or so of people grouped around, and one seated figure which I felt was that of the king. I made a half glance toward him, but dared not look again, for behind Henri’s chair was De Clermont, gay and brilliant, in marked contrast to the somber if state ly figure of De Lorgnae. At last the time came when I placed a haud as cold as stone In that of my husband, and the words were spoken which made us man and wife. When it was all over and we had turned to bow to the king, De Clermont stepped forward and clasped a jeweled collar around my neck, saying in a loud voice, “In the king’s name,” and then, aided by the dim light and with unexampled daring, he swiftly snatched away one of my gloves, which I held in my hand, with a whisper of “This for me.” Henri spoke a few jesting words, and thou rising left the chapel abruptly, followed by De Clermont, bit those who remained came round us with con gratulations that sounded idle and hol low to me. It was then that I noticed for the first time that Catherine was not present, although I saw Queen Mar got and Mme. de Canillac there. The marshal, however, cut the buzz of voices short: “The horses are ready, De Lorgnae, and, as arranged, you start tonight. And now, my good niece, adieu, and good fortune be with you and your husband.” With that he hent and. touching my forehead with his stiff mustache,'step ped back a pace and let us pass. As I waiked by my husband's side, dazed and giddy, with a humming in my ears, there came back to me with i a swift and insistent force the wordj,_ of the vows which, if I had not spoken, I had given a tacit assent to. They were none the less binding on this ac count. Two of them I could not keep. One cannot control one's soul, and I felt that in this respect my life would be henceforth a living lie. But one I thought I might observe, and that was the oath to obey, yet even in the short passage leading from the oratory to the entrance to the chapel my heart flamed up iu rebellion, and with a sud den movement I withdrew my hand from my husband’s arm and. biting my lips till the blood came, forced myself to keep by his side. lie made no effort to restrain me; spoke never a word un til we came to the door where th« horses were waiting with half a dozen armed and mounted men. Here De Corgnac turned to me, saying, almost in a whisper, “May I help you to mount?” . [To be continued.] -« A Curious Supers tif ion, Iu the Canaries the banana is never cut with a knife, because the fruit when cut through exhibits what is regarded as a representation of the Crucifixion.