The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1873-10-04

was, and a better dancer; and that /
should have the first place in the new
dance they are to put on the stage next
week Oh, / would like to have such a
| triumph once! 1t would be such a pleas
ant way to say good-by to the stage"
could deny her nothing, my little SIS
/, ter and though it was like going into the
torture-room of the Inquisition to enter
the theater and see Count Ernest on such
familiar terms with Dora, consented for
the present to conceal my good fortune
from our friends, and go on Just the same
as if nothing had happened.
The eyentfiIl evening came at length.
The play was interspersed with ballet
dancing, and was to end with grand
Transformation scene in which Ada and
Dora were to rise as sea-nymphs, in a she'll
like car, from the waters of mimic lake.
1t so happened that, just before the last
scene, l went into the room underneath
the stage, where the machinery for raising
| the car was placed, impelled by a strange
foreboding Of impending misfortune, to
assure myself that everything was in
order; and that no precaution against acci-
dent had been neglected. There | found
the master-Dlachinist, a dark and gloomy
visaged man, standingby the car mutter-
ing to himself in an undertone, Better
she should die than marry the count. He
has bewitched her, as he does all women.
A little slit would -
What are you muttering to yourself?"
| asked him, suddenly; land what do you
mean by these mysterious words? =
He faced Iae, as if struck by an uneX-
pected blow.
II was only examining the machinery
| to see that everything was right - he an
swered, sllIenly, and turned away.
I,carefully examined the cords by which
the car was raised. Everything appeared
| is be secure and in good order; and |
went back to my place, trying to laugh
myself out of my apprehensions. But
though twas easy to argue that all was
right, and that my fears arose merely from
some inexplicable disorder of the brain, /
could not feel secure. / was positive that
some frightful misadventure would occur
before the play was over and every nerve
was strained in the effort to maintain a
calm exterior.
The play progressed. The curtain rose
upon the magnificent transformation
scene; and the plaudits of the audience
graw tnmultuous as the splendors unrolled
| before them. At length the car began to
rise slowly and maiestfcally, to low, sweet
strains of music / watched, with scarcely
| beating heart and bated breath, the first
appearance of the beautiful vision--for like
| a vision it looked, rising and still rising,
| the car respondent with all the tinsel
which shone like gold, and silver and
| diamonds. A sound as of many tinkling
| fountains mingled with the strains of de-
| lieious music; fairy-land seemed opening
upon the sight, with arching bowers and
| far-reaching vistas, and myriads of elfin
forms disporting on the ground and in the
air. For moment. [ was fascinated,
when Ada and Dora, in all their beauty,
rose above the lake, their stately car SEEM
ingly lifted by invisible hands. / forgot
my apprehensions, and once more breathed
freely.
| Suddenly there was dreadful crash, and
q wild cry filled the house. The car
had fallen. For an instant, felt rooted
to the spot whereI was standing. and then
i recovering my senses, rushed forward to
learn the worst. As [ made my way
through the narrow passage under the
stage, heard some one say in pitying
tone: tsPoor thing, she will never dance
again !'' Which was it? Ada? Dora?
fought my way through the crowd of act
ors and attendants, and saw my little Ada
living senseless in Dora's arms. Throwing
myself on my knees, [ took her cold hands
in both of mine. '.My dear friend,'' said
Dora, who was weeping silently, ''she is
not dead, though dreadfully hurt. The
surgeon will be here directly. Compose
yourself. She is reviving!n
! Ny little darling opened her eyes, with
a deep sigh, and looked about her with a
Ibewildered gaze.
! '.Hush, little one, said Dora softly, as
l.she saw Ada was about to speak. ''Lie
still and be patient till the surgeon comes.
o1fn hor. oflfl
her little hands pressed mine with a ten
Lder grasp. The surgeon was soon on the
spot. He assured me that Ada had sus-
tanned no fatal injury, but it was doubtful
whether she would be able to walk again.
With a piteous cry, she fell back in Dora's
arms, and tainted dead away.
/ had noticed no one but Ada and Dora,
but at this moment was conscious that
the count was kneeling beside me, and had
! cIasped Dora's hand. tBetter she than
YOU, my loye." he murmured.
Dora gave him quick look of reproof
| s.This IS no time for love-making," she
answered, withdrawing her hand. Have
i you no feeling for the poor girl lying here,
whose whole life must be one of misery
\ and sorrow?"
4 "What is this ballet girl to me p an
Il sweredithe count, stung TO the quick, and
i for moment thrown off his guard. s'Oi
course. ] am sorry for her, he added the
4 next moment, but"
i At this moment Ada opened her eyes
again, and a faint blush struggled with the
i paleness in her cheeks, as her gaze fell
upon the count. A beautiful smile played
on her trembling lips, and she reached hel
hand toward him. ssOh, my love-" she
said in low whisper whisper which
first sent the blood mantling into Dora's
face and then left it paler than snow
.'you are near and r..
Something in the counts face stopped
her words.
eThe girl is wandering" he said, cold
liy. stShe does not know what she is say
ing.n
She had tainted again. Go, count, >
said Dora, hastily. Your presence is not
wanted here Her manner was decided
and even imperious, and the count did not
venture to disobey; but as he left he. cast
Il. ,x,r.1~f 9th af1r-.c