The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-11-06

capital. He had a few thousands-not
over three laid by, sou b. >n; these he
intrusted to his friend; he son thrice tie
amount. For an instant Dn"aui, lie
thought of going no further: of taking his
money home, of throwing it into his wite's
lap, of embracing his children and telling
them they were rich; but his adviser
stopped him. "Nne Thousand francs!
nonsense, just enough to keep on hand.
No, he must wait. Tell his family wheu
he had really fortune, and keep his Ii tie
capital to speculate" Ducantelle Oheyed.
Again ventured, again won till gradually
he lost sight OF the original motive for
which he had desired riches, and lived out
in the excitement of speculation. In q
few months he realize one of those i'm
mense fortunes for which the Paris Rourse
is celebrated, and found himself surround
ed by host of tlatterers, ever ready to
do homage to one of the greatest capi-
talists of Paris These associations took
him naturally into world entirely new
to him He had no idea of the para
disc of enioymen, gold would open to
him. The cold, sordid, monotOnous
existence he had led he now looked back
to as a criminal does to prison life. He
hated his home, and as he compared his
wife and daughters to the brilliant women
around him, he was ashamed of them,
and resolved to leave them in their ObScu
rity. The conquest he achieved OF the
beautiful and celebrated Madelon Tr,pez
entirely estranged him from his family.
He did not desert them, but his days were
spent from home, and only late at night,
sometimes not until early dawn, did he
cross his own threshold. The stipend he
had always given was not increased; he
feared lest the least liberality should ex'
cite suspicion, thought Nine. DuncantellL
lived SO far out of the world, especially
of his world that it Was utterly impossible
a rulnOr could reach them.
So two years went by Nine. Ducantelle
is now almost intirm; her daughters,
young as they are, are fading gradually;
the joyOusness of youth has passed away
from them before their years have num-
bered twenty. Ducantelle is still pros
porous. He has invented distant jour
neys to excuse his absence from: home,
and lives now in an elegant bachelors ap-
partment, Rue Taibout, except Oh rare oc-
casions, when he thinks it necessary to
make short stay at his old home. To
say that Ducantelle was prosperous was
to say that Madelon was faithful that is,
that she gave herself the trouble to per-
suade him she loved him. He overwhelm-
ed her with magnifcence; money SO
easily gained loses its value, and it fell in
showers from Ducantelle's hands over
this Danae.
But speculations have two sides; as yet
Ducantelle had seen but one, the prosper
Gus side All at once fortune began to
change, and like ball once urged from
the top of hill, Ducantelle's luck and
prosperity fell in one grand crash. He
was ruined man. He proclaimedit it him
self with tears and sobs to Madelon, and
Madelon laughed al him, and said he had
deceived her-said he was wicked man,
and bid him go back to his old and virtu-
GUS wife, Ducatelle, paralyzed within des-
pair and agony, mechanically took the
way back to his old home But, at the
first appearance of its bare walls, its sor
did furniture, It's soled floors, a shudder
of disgust went through his frame. He
shut himself up in the little room called
his, and there, loading the musket with
which he had formerly performed his SER
vice of National Guard, he placed it to his
temples, and shot himself dead.
Hastily summoned, Max Sabatier leans
over the widow they showed him Ducan-
telle, but he turned in disgust from the
mangled corpse, to whom now all human
aid was vain.
"Our poor mother, said Suzanne, "will
she recover?"
"Better she should die," said Laure, her
lip quivering, ethan come back to life
of poverty and misery"
Max Sabatier looked, and, as he gazed
on Laure, the hard, sardonic expression
peculiar to his face, faded away, sweeping
with it, as it were, years. 1t seemed as if
his heart beat more freely as if youth,
hope, trust and happiness were coming
back again.
Mademoiselle," said he, in low,
gentle voice, ''your mother will not die
and you, l bid you hope and wait my
return
A few minutes later the doctors carriage
stopped at the door of Madelon's villa, at
Passy. Spite of the denial of the servant,
he passed on into the drawing-room, where
he knew he should find the mistress of the
house.
"Mademoiselle," said he, care we
alone? Can no one hear US ?"
"No one."
"Then listen to me. Madeline Dupont,
calling yourself Madelon Tropez, know
you.''
"What do you mean?"
Madeline Dupont, you are theft"
''How dare your"
"Maieline Dupont, confined to five
years hard labor at Montpelier, at the end
Of the second, you contrived to escape.
Madeline Dupont you robbed an English
man of his watch and pocket-book, after