Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1872-02-02

deliberately trimmed underskirt of lila,
silk. No wonder that the vicompt
heaves sigh as he looks upon her. H'
is really almost in love; the small rem
napt of heart which Cora Pearl and An
ma Deslion have spared him is entirely
gone. That fair face and exquisite form
would have lured him to love had he
met with them in the garb of a grisette
and backed by undoubted wealth and
high position, they had even decided
him upon committing the objectionable
folly of resolving to get married. But
lovely Mrs. Lascelle has not the slight
est idea of becoming the vicomtese OF
Revonnes. His last card, his approach,
ing departure, combined with his ele-
CANT uniform, has been played and the
game is lost. Mrs. Lascelle obstinately
refuses to look or feel sentimental, and
perversly insists upon denying her SYM
pathy to noble, heroic France. She has
warded off with infinite tact any point
blank renewal of the vicompte's already
rejected proposals, and he with equal
tact has accepted the situation, though
he occasionally verges into tender speech
es and sentimental looks.
Silence has been maintained between
them for some moments. At length the
lady spoke;-
81 can hardly forgive the emperor for
declaring war" she said, swaying her fan
with dainty fnger-tips.
"The honor of France was insulted,
madame"
"Ah, 1 had hoped never to look on
war again." she answered, shadow
sweeping across her sweet face. A sud-
den vision of the unknown grave on a
southern battlefield. where slept unree-
ognized the ashes of an only brother,
rose cold before her. "War is a solemn
"a terrible thing!"
"Such wars as your rebellion-yes.
But European nations settle their troub-
les much more quickly. In three weeks
or month we shall be in Berlin, peace
will be declared and then will come the
grand triumphal entry into Paris, distri-
button of crosses by the emperor, and all
the fetes and rejoicing wherewith Paris
will welcome home her victorious sons, !"
A carriage loaded with yelling, scream
ing, drunken soldiers, drove up to the
rue St. Honore as he spoke. Mrs. Las
celle pointed to it as it passed.
Is it from such stuffas that that vic
torious heroes are nodded ?" she asked.
"No, Vicompte, you underrate the Ger
mans, and you admire your own coun-
try men to highly"
Pardon, madame. We are the first
military nation in Europe. The empe-
ror will undoubtedly celebrate the 18th
Of August in Berlin. You must not fail
to come to Paris to see the grand
triumphal entry of the returning troops.
Our generals are the finest in the world,
our army the best equipped, our soldiers
the bravest, our commissariat the most
perfect All, Madame Lascelle, l should
leave France with light heart, if you
had only"
Listen" interrupted Alice Lascelle.
II love France, as you know | have
passed twoy years abroad, and Paris seems
to me like second home. But cannot
look forward with blind confidence to a
future for her of triumphant glory. l
may be wrong, but it seems to me that
there is something hollow under all this
air outside of military show. My own
countrymen may be different but they do
not go forward into battle drinking,
shouting, boasting. They talk of victo-
ry after the battle-not before"
You are real Prussiene, madame" /"
he answered, pettishly. I" have no wish
ia hear my country vilifed, SO l will bid
you good evening"
"Come, come, vicompte," she said, ex
tending her hand with smile that might
have melted the heart ofa marble saint,
"we must not quarrel in this moment of
our parting-we who are such old friends
and have been such good ones. The war
has spoiledmy summer-cannotyo you per-
NIT me to be little cross about it p
Where in the world am to go now that
Baden-Baden and Hamberg are closed
against me? | must cen make my way
to England, and waste my Worth toilets
on the desert air of Great Britain"
She was far more charming to NJ. de
Revannes in this more frivolous, and to
his French ideas, more feminine mood,
than when she moralized overthe horrors
of war. He had not quite attained to
the oriental theory that women have no
brains for anything better than chifons
and chignons. He sat down, therefore,
and smoothed his ruffled brow.
"And so you leave tomorrow" she
said, looking down at the fickering rain
bows on her mother-oe-pearl fan.