Weekly Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1853-1861, 1855-04-12
Here he had found and lost the highest bliss

)nly associate was young man named Alam-
Dord. With him he would talk, half day
1t time, about Fedora, whose picture was
placed over his writing so that he might
always have it before his eyes. Look
inc at this, he would often express the most
glowing hopes that Fedora would keep her
word. and come to take him to that better
world, into which she had gone before him.
But time has its healing rights, and can
close the wounds which it cannot harden
Varennes yielded to the entreaties of his
friends and would sometimes take a ride,
visit the opera, or receive a few acquain-
tanees. Yet he avoided those circles where
he would be brought in contact with ladies of
fashion. Among his new acquaintance, was
an Englishman who had no taste for the en-
thusiasm of the Marquis about Fedora and
would often lecture him in broken French, on
his mania for the dead while beefsteaks,
porter and champagne still remained to him.
The Carnival had come; and the little COM
panv, who usually assembled in the evening
at the honse of the Marquis, had resolved to
visit the ball at the opera and though Var
ennes earnestly refused to go, he was, as it
were, forced to accompany them.
In the variegated throng of masks, which
wearied and disguised him, he had lost his
friends; who had been here and there, adj
dressed by masks, and had<given themselves
up 10 jollity He leaned against the pillar,
and gazed vacantly on the moving crowd
His name was softly called, and turning round
he stood specifies. Before him was female
mask, in a black dress the form, the size,
the splendid blond hair were all marvellously
there but a black mask concealed the face.
" You here, Louis" whispered the mask
almost inaudibly have you so soon forgot
ten me %
A fash pierced the soul of varennes he
now recognized likeness in the form and
he even thought in the voice, though muffied
by the masks His blood boiled; he was
shaken with the shulderings of fever.
"Feodora !"
He pronounced her name, half bewildered
The black mask foated towards the entrance
she floated-it was not the movement of
mortal. He presses after her through the
throng; he is fearfully excited Feodora's
words return to his memory he doubts not
for a moment that it is the departed one who
has come back to keep her word with him.
He presses after her and overtakes her.
WHITTIER? Tell me who thou art, mys-
terious being. Thou hast charmed me; |
must see clearly who thou art"
"Feodora," was the hollow response Down
with the mask ~ exclaimed Varennes 81 must
see your face. You are an impostor."
'1mposter Here"
The mask thrust into his hand something
hard and cleaning. He looked at it and re-
cognized ring which he had given Fedora,
and with which she had been buried. A du-
plicate of it he wore on his finger. He trem-
bled in every limb, and stared on the mask
in blanklamazement
"The lay dawns, and must away" said the
mask
"Whither whittier Pr
"Come with ne if you have the courage.
have said to you that l would soon come
again for you" She stepped to cariolet and
said to the driver, " Boulevard ="
She entered, and varennes, in a state of un-
consciousness, followed. The window was
closed A stuperfying odour of mould and
violets filed the air. The Marquis felt his
head swimming, and opened the window
Without was clear aud moonshine.
"Play no trick on me, unknown one. Thif
is too much for joke"
"You doubt the words of the dying; wait
and you shall see."
The carriage suddenly stopped, the mask
sprang out; yarennes fastened after her; hi
offered her his arm, but she repulsed him.
graveyard was hundred steps ahead, tc
which she fastened. As they approached
the grave yard, the gate swung open of itself
and the mask moved rapidly over the snow
covered graves.
Yarennes could restrain himself no longer;
he seized her and cried out, Show me your
face withouta mask, | must see you" She
tore the mask off; the moon shone full on the
black form. Varennes fell with one scream
to the ground-he had looked on Deaths
Head. The mask drew silver whistle from
her bosom and blew it. Several men came
from behind the grave stones, and fastened tc
the spot where the Marquis lay.
Il have lost my bet," said rough voice, il
broken French. 81 think he is dead. What
tender nerves these French have"
The Marquis could not be recalled to life
He was indeed, dead
THE Englishman had made bet that he
could cure the Marquis of his enthusiasm
and had hired Lorette for the comedy; had
procured deaths head for her, and instructed
her how to behave. He had, through a ser
want, obtained ring of the Marquis, and
a jeweler had made an accurate imitation o.
it.
EXCITEMENT IN New YoRK.-A French
writer in the Courier des Etats Unis, thu;