The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1871-06-15
THE MERCHANT OF MARsEILLEs'

l AAObO WIN uuN0 UcCu ht n6Tb0lllc
will remember that vast building OF
the quay, close to the Hotel de Vile
and in the same style of architecture
which, Though sub.divided into ware
houses, bears token by the unity o
its design, of once having been in tn
possession of one owner, and origin
ally intended for one purpose. Tha
great building was long know as th'
Hotel st. Victor, and belonged to th'
wealthy family bearing that name
In the year 100, he who bore th'
honors Of the house was in trouble
His firm, for years the largest ant
richest in Marseilles, was on the ev'
of bankruptcy; their credit, whicl
had stood for years unimpaired, wa
tottering to Its base. He was q maj
in the prime Of life, that st. Victor
but the dark, fine hair was thickl!
| strewn with silver, and the broa(
brow was furrowed by lines that car,
must have planted there. All roun(
the room in which he sat silent ant
alone, might be seen the evidence O
wealth once possessed by the family
and of the luxury in which they hat
been accustomed to live-rich furni
ture, velvet and gold, mirrors, car
wings, soft carpets-rare luxuries IL
France; even at the present time
trinkets, pictures-all that money
could purchase OH taste could select
were gathered in that splendid apart
ment. Each panel of the wall con.
tanned, or had contained, the rarest
paintings of largest size, and mostly
by the Italians masters but it might
be observed that some of them had
been displaced, and such-as the
marks on the wall tcstified-Aad been
of greater size than those remaining,
and doubtless of q greater value,
though those hanging on the panels
were meet for the places of Kings.
Above the high mantelpieces Of pure
white marble, with its elaborate de-
corations and majestic proportions,
hung anloval portrait-the portrait
of a young man. 1t was q fair ra-
diant face, with an open, happy ex-
preston, and surrounded by soft, fall
ling hair. 1t was the portrait of St.
Victor-but of st. Victor long ago.
Everyhow and then, and mechanical
ly as it were, the man amid his sad,
silent musings, would raise his eyes
to the bright picture of the boy.
What q contrast did these present
the one, how beautiful-the other,
how mournful and how wan!
The door opened and an old man
entered. He was old enough to be
the father of st. Victor; but it was
only Devereux, once the head clerk
of the house ofSt. Victor, now a sub
stantial merchant of Marseilles. The
dress of this person was warm and
rich, but his gait was feeble, and he
was also furrowed, but the lines were
only those of age and thought. There
was much Of harshness, of pride, of
determination, to be traced in his
countenance, but none of that woe
full anxiety which seemed whitening
up the manly pride of 81. Victor,
The latter rose at his entrance and
moved toward him with evident
pleasure.
"Devereux," he exclaimed, "wel-
come"
But Dcvereux put back tho offered
hand with O smile, and said:
"To-morrow, st. Victor, all those
bills own Of yours become due.
st. Victor started.
'Tis so, I know, but I am safe, for
you hold them and you will not press
me-"
"You miscalculate st. Victor" said
the old man, coldly. ~ want the
money"
St. Victor tried to laugh.
"You know, Devereux-you know
that it is impossible I could meet the
demand. l could not take up Me of
those bills, far less than the whole
number"
II want not tho amount Of one, nor
two, nor ofthree, but Of all, and 'tis
what come to say"
"Devereux," said the debtor, with
q cheek as white as ashes, "you might
throw me into prison, you might rain
my credit and my name forever; but
l take heaven to witness, cOnld not
raise one-half of that sum, though it
were to save my soul. What mean
your Is it not as a friend you be-
come the holder of those bills"
The creditor started to his feet.
"No."
Tho poor debtor groaned aloud.
"It was not always thus. Why do
you now turn against me" 'sD
81 turn not now" answered Dew
ereux, ~ have longed for this hour-
soughtit early and late--lived but
for It. Yon wronged me once, st.
Victor; but my revenge is at hand,
Yes, they shall be thine!-the dis
grace of bonds, the ignominy Of the
prison-proud, beautiful, beloved st.
Victorl / shall triumph nowp
Does the old man ravel This st. i.
Victor, shrinking, bonding before
him, wesry, care-worn, with dark
locks sadly streaked with white-this
world-broken man! How is he
worth such epithcts? "proud, brok-
en-, and belOvedp
But the old man speaking thus
looked not at his wondering audi
tor; his eyes were raised to the
bright, smiling portrait, and to that
he spoke.
Devereux continued:
leah, st. Victor, dost thou remem-
Der long ago, when thou vast q
a young, gay gallant, and l but q
poor clerk in thy fathers prosperous
house. When you, the young heir,
were but boy, I was past the sea.
son of youth. When you attained
your brilliant majority, /, Devcrcux,
was man of middle sober age. But
/ loved, OIL both passionately and
truly, loved for the first time, and
even yet, st. Victor, that. love is
| here,h And he laid his withered
hand upon his heart. "a
"She was very beautiful and good,