The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1868-01-18 00:00:00

A STORY OF WOOING WITH FUR!

The Paris correspondent of the Court Journal favours his
readers with the following romantic story ;
The fete de nuit of the Skating Club was brilliant in
the extreme. Thotwandeof coloured lamps and spark-
ling lights rendered the whole scene as clear and din-
Unit as in noonday. No representative of the Im-
perial family was present, but the one or two Pusses
Wades given by the gaping Garlands answered all the
purpose of the interest and excitement which the
Imperial visit would in reality have created. But one
adventure on the ice occurred to make us remember
old times, and re-assure us on the subject of the gal-
lantry id the French preu.c chevaliers, w iii we had
imagined to have departed for ever. A. certain widow
lady, whose fair hand is disputed by a whole bevy of
pretenders, and who gives as excuse for not changing
her state that she cannot do so without changing her
mune (the finest and most popular of the present
regime), has long been pursued by the ,i• iitions of an
officer of high rank, whose pretensio .ire justified
by the poss-maion of a large fortune, military
honour, awl the highest esteem of the sovereign.
But his suit had not hitherto met with the reward
to which he aspired, and having taken his leave of
the lady, was about to retire to his chateau dispirited
and discomfited, when the blessed idea crossed his
mind of gazing at her once more unseen and unheeded,
and of sending her a blessing from his retreat in the
carriage, where he remained "II the bank of the lake,
gazing with eager eyes for the sledge with swan's neck
and scarlet trappings, in which he hail learnt that the
laity was, as usual, to appear. But it seems that even
a dismissed suitor may at times have less to suffer than
the fair tyrant by whom 1, has been dismissed, for in
this case the lady, after two or three turns upon the
Lake, declared that she felt too nervi us to bear the
excitement. boo weary to bear the 11106011, too de-
' pressed to bear the merriment around lice ; and so she
' alighted from the sledge, and took her Peat by the
bonfire, which, although blazing upwards to the very
sky, did not prevent the cold shivering occasioned by
the night air from being perceptible even in spite of
the furs in which she was enveloped. Now, the
Commander had been for some years at the Court of
Russia, and the sable lined cloak he had received from
the Emperor haa long been regarded as one of the
marvels of Pails.. A long description of the fur and
. . .

its value, and the length of time which had been passed
in collecting together the number of skins necessary to
complete the ample garment, appeared not long
since, and a joke was expressed concerning the eager-
ness of every mother in Paris to he favoured one day
this winter with the privilege of throwing it over her
daughter's wedding dress, to keep the Commander's
bride from the cold damp air of the sacristry, while
signing for the first time her new name in the church
register. In short, the Commander's cloak was the
object of as much covetous desire as the Commander's
hand, and many and many a manceuvre had it given
rise to. Well, here it lay by the Commander's side,
the electric light fell strong upon the jewelled clasp at
the throat, and danced along the gbttering braid of
Tiflis gold with which it is bordered. A thought as
bright as the braiding flashed throu_ I. his mind. He
beheld the lady pale and shivering with the cold, silent
and depressed with emotion. He called his servant to
the carriage door, and, bidding him lay the cloak
without a word at the lady's feet, ordered the coach-
man to drive away from the spot as fa, as possible.
He did not return home, and when the kindest of
messages was sent to his hotel the messenger was told
that the Commander had left by the night train for
the Pyrenees. But the telegraph was made for love as
well as vengeance, and the Commander was brought
back after only a few hours' absence. Gossip flies
even faster than the telegraph, for already has the
rumour got abroad of the approaching marriage of the
Commander with the statesman's lovely widow, and
of the magnificent presents to be made by the wealthy
bridegroom, and of the dress the bride is to wear on
the occosion, and, ahoya all, of the richness of the
sables which are to adorn the long trailing skirt to
which as a widow-bride she is condemned.