Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1872-02-02
3fliseellamp.
A Bracelet from Berlin.

! ed in haze of misty gold. The Champs
Elysees and Bois de Boulogne were alive
with carriages, bearing gay parties to
the shade and twilight coolness thatreign-
ed there after the scorching fervor OF
the summer sun had departed, and the
rue de Rivoli and the boulevard de Sc
vastapol sounded the tramp of soldiers
hurrying to the seat of war. "On to
Berlin - was the eiy on every lip: the
Marseillaise and "Mourir pour la Pat
rie," sounded at every corner, and LIE
Rhin Alamand" was chanted at every
theatre. Paris was gay with more than
its winter gayety, flushed with more than
its summer fever. Workmen we're busy
in wreathing the front of public build
ings with festoons of gas-pipe, which, at
a given signal, were to burst forth into
dazzling tokens of rejoicing for the VIC
tories that were SO surely to be won.-
There was question whether the imperial
fete should not be celebrated in Berlin,
but experienced military critics thought
that the army would hardly be able to
capture the Prussian capital in less than
three weeks more, and that two different
days would therefore have to be devoted
to festivals and rejoicings. Like its min
lister, France had gone to war with a
1 lIph hao ~ II IL
window of her parlor au seconde, in
the hotel de Louvre, and looked down
on the noisy scene below. The windows
opened on the wide, smooth space of the
place du palais Royal, and beyond, her
eye could follow on one side the rue St.
Honore, and on the other the rue de Ri
voli. Immediately below was crowd
ed cabstand, the ecoachman, in their glaz-
ed hats and red waistcoats, iabbering,
swearing and scolding among themselves
while their patient beasts stood with
dropping heads or partook of frugal
mouthfuls from their nose-bags. Now
and then voiture de remise loaded with
eight or ten zopaves, all drunk and up
roarous, would sway slowly past to the
tune of Mourir pour la Patrie," shout
ed with all the strength of stentorian
lungs. Anon comes breath of martial
music and the ring of hoofs upon the as
phaltic, and squadron of cavalry fit
along rue de Rivoli, their picked, fine,
picturesque little Tarbes horses frettng
and champing their brides, and like
their master, overfowing with fire and
limpatience. Is this war? No. It is a
nation on frolic, drunken with wine,
arrayed in fine clothes, and not averse to
a little fighting to makes things lively.
i No wonder that the beautiful Mrs.
Lascelle listens with divided interest to
the cavilier beside her, while she leans
listlessly upon the window-sill and gazes
with halfaverted head upon the scene
beneath. She is so tired of the tale he
telling her-the old, old story, unbound
ed love, unspeakable devotion, the title
of vicomtesse, the entree to the best
society in Paris. She has heard it all
before, and that more than once, for AL
ice Lascelle, with her beauty, her wealth
her grace, her intellect is too tempting a
combination of two fayorite Partisan he
roines, the jeune veuve of modern come
dy, and the heritiere Americaine of mod
ern French society, not to be an irresist-
able captivation to the jeunesse doree of
the court of the second empire. But she
is wise with the wisdom of serpents. is
this lovely widow, and she has no fancy
of purchasing, at the expense of her
money and her life combined, so costly
and unsatisfactory a toy as French
husband with an empty title.
He is not Unlocking, this vicompte de
Revannes, who, leaning against the win
dow frame, looks down on his obdurate
lady-love with wistful eyes-such dot
and such a pretty creature-and he
heaved sigh, feeling sure that if his
impending departure and his new uni
form fail to move that frozen heart, then
his case is indeed hopeless. els array
ed in the uniform in question, dazzling
combination of blue and crimson, of
gold and glitter, and he knows that he
is looking his best. 1t is very good
" best too, for he is, though small, well
built and graceful, bis eyes are large and
brilliant, his features good and his COM
plexion, though faded by unhallowed
vigils and unwholsome feasts, has a GER
ain palid delicaey which sets off to ad-
vantage his thick, black moustache and
Navy dark hair.
He forms very effective contrast to
the loveliness of the woman before
him. Alice Lascelle, though she has
been a widow four years, is but twenty
eight. She is fair and soft-eyed, refin-
ed looking white rose sort of woman,
with an exquisitely shaped head set on a
long slender throat, and with a slight
graceful figure of statuesque perfection.
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