The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1871-02-15

81 shall never believe in the strength OF
msis love until he has shown me the proof
q nn allsubduing devotion. We women are
lected to devote our whole lives to men
ULo would not give up the pleasures Of a
single month for love of us!"
| The liveliest discussion was provoked by
| this avowal, and on all sides arose sportive
word contest, which, here and there, grew
louder and more earnest. The gentlemen
crowded about the ballsrina, begging for
test-the imposition of some sacrifice. The
old days of chivalry seemed to have been re-
vived, when knights and troubadours de-
| clared themselves ready to contend with
| monsters for the ladies of their hearts,
"hb btenP cried Camille, at last; 81 will
begin with the three nearest me-let my
sisters follow my example! 1 demand only
the knightly service of one month Let
each do for my sake what seems To him hard
est; and, at the end of the appointed time,
! the company here assembled shall decide
which has brought the most worthy Offering
of love.
'And then ?" asked the young captain.
''Then? The reward of the bravest shall
| be lett to mel will then cease to he tickle"
''We devote ourselves to the trial." cried
the duke, the philosopher, and the soldier.
The balleriua extended to each of her three
subjects her hand to be kissed and supper
was then announced in the elegant little
| dining saloon.
Roses we're strewed upon the brilliant
table; sparkling wine bubbled in the tall
crystal goblets; laugh and jest hovered on
beautiful lips; only on the captains face
shadow rested, until the chiding glance and
whisper of his lovely neighbor dispelled the
gloom.
II hope you do not mean to starve YOUR
! self for my sake, she said. 81 should weep
all my life over a sacrifice so great. Do you
not wish to win the prize, four weeks from
| today"
''How could the wish avail ?" he answered,
with melancholy smile. 81 am the smallest
and most Insignificant in the hive of your
adorers, and must content myself with the
sight of their swarming."
During the following days and weeks, the
dwelling of Petitpas, indeed, resembled a
beehive The story of the strange wager had
flown througa all Paris, and the curious
flocked in and out of her doors necessarily,
eager to be eye and ear witnesses of the
wonderful deeds to be accomplished by these
devoted three New candidates announced
their readiness to undertake a second contest
after the decision of the pending wager-so
| tempting prize seemed that strange, highty
something called Camilles heart
There was little to see or hear.
The Duke, whose parsimony was proven
bial, made the most strenuous attempts to
ruin himself by the purchase of various gifts
of fact his usual careful providence never
for a moment forsook him, and, despite what
| he considered his unheard-of expenditures,
| he remained as rich as before. His rueful
countenance, when the naughty daughter of
the locksmith pushed all his presents care
lessly aside, was a source of extreme amuse-
ment to all who looked on. No one could
accuse the Petitpas of selfshness she ac-
cepted fresh rose with the same grateful
smile as a costly vase, and cared for gold
chain as little as a knot of ribbon.
The philosopher Etienne Cordilac ap-
peared no more, since the eventful evening,
in the presence of the ballerina. He had i'm
posed upon himself the severe penance of
exile from her magic circle, He was sure of
the prize. Could there be more perfect
self -abnegation than voluntarily to relinquish
the presence of the beloved one? He saw
her only at mass, where, leaning against a
pillar, he looked over to her az a shipwrecked
mariner towards the distant shore He fol-
lowed her from the church, scarcely less
faithfully than the lsckey who carried her
missal and when, arrived at her use-door,
with pretty coquetry she drew aside her
silken veil little, she always met his large.
earnest eyes, aud saw mis- bow of humble
recognition. The daily multiplying throng
of Camilles admirers already awarded to
Cordillac the palm of tender devotion, and
with envious Imagination saw him quit the
field a conquerOr.
The captain, to the astonishment of all,
had for the second time in his life disap-
peared without trace. Nobody had seen him
| nobody knew where he was staying. At
first Camille scarcely missed him, amid the
throng that gathered about her: but by de-
grees she began to speculate seriously upon
bis absence, and to grow restless aud unlike
herself Secretly distressed, she sent her
servant here and there for some clew of the
vanished friend of her youth. This strange
old man had entered her service bat short
time before but his bronzed and wrinkled
face inspired her fullest confidence, as he
stood at the door bowling low, while she
spoke to him, and humbly retreating a
step or two, as she advanced. Old Francois
was the only witness of her daily increasing
anxiety for jacques. He had heard often
enough of the feats of her errant knight
surely, she might trust him with the most
delicate and hazardous commissions Per-
haps jacques had gone to Africa to tame lions
for his lady-perhaps he was seeking to bring
the teeth of some giant as an ornament for
the fairest of necks! Perhaps he had
become a monk, and thus thrown his
life at her lCtle feet-and she had
lost him forever! Camille had more sad
thoughts in that one month than in all her
life before-she frightened at herself.
She execrated her foolish wager, that hare
Drained jacques, and finally herself; and at
Francois quiet entrance she often looked up
from her lace-work with eyes hot and swollen
from weeping, Fortunately, such grief was
not uninterrupted. The young Marquis
Erequis was such a piquant jester, and the
Chevalier Lsbord related to her so many
petiteS Histories ScdndGteuSes VOltaire's sar-