Litchfield enquirer., 1876-07-13

fof-for the fellow told me so. She said: My friend, we must not see each other any more-never again. We must part. You will not ask me why; but we must part Then she told the fellow that the young princess and herself had taken freak. of going out for morning walks dressed like city girls. and they ment no harm; and. that, one day, they heard the fellow declaiming from Schiller, and they listened, and they got into talk with him, and they rather liked the fellow; and so on. you know. Now the princess's mar riage was approaching, and there must be no more cakes and ale! but you will not be sorry:to learn, said Dorothea, that your friendship and our pleasant talks sometimes giaddened the poor princess, and that she will remember you always as a friend.'"
 .'But what had all this to do with her. self?" I asked, a little 1mpatiently.
 ''That was just what the fellow put to her: but she said that her fate was bound up with that of the princess, and she, too, hin.el of some confounded marriage en- gagement. Oh, he talked, did the fellow. l can tell you. His eloqnence fairly as- tonished himself. But it was all to no purpose. She firmly declared that they must never meet again. Then he began to accuse her of having played with her love; but she looked at him with such griev- ed and implo,ing face that he soon drop ped tlfat game. He begged of her even to give him the comfort of telling him that she loved him, that if things had b ,en different, and all that. She only said: My friend. some day, you and I will both be glad that speak no foolish words now. You will look back on my memory with all the better feeling It was growing late; the woods were darken- ing-,ll this, though it ems long, didL't take quarter of an hour-sh had to go away She wouldn't even give him q lock of her hair-no, by love! nor the flower that was in her bosom. Not now she said; we have both gone to far. Adieu; | won't ask you to forget me, and she held ont her hand. He caught it and kissed t. There was ring upon her fin- ger, which came almost loose in his hand. He almost thought of pulling it off. and keeping it as relic; but he didn't. He pressed it on her slender little darling of a finger agaln, and, in half moment, she was gone, and the fellow was alone
 "Poor fellow! What did he do ?''
 Do? He mooned about the wood for an hour or two, with his hands in his pock cts, thinking of nothing, in an odd, dazed sort of way. At last, he went home to his lodgings, and think he wished that he were @ woman, for once."
 "Why that?"
 Don't you see?" Because If he were woman, he could have a good cry, and ease his mind little. But he could only smoke, and, when the fellows he knew made jokes, he had to try and joke too. He went with them to the beer gardens and the dancing places, and I don't sup pose that any of them ever knew the poor devil was wretched." sr
 "Did he keep up visiting the old place in the mornings" ?"
 She was gone"
 ''Then did he never see her again ?"
 "Oh yes; he saw her once. It was on He posted himself in the crowd, poor fel- low, to see the procession which passed through the city from the church, when that confounded brute and cad, the grand duke, took his newly made wife ronnd to show her to his people. The fellow thought, you know, he would be sure to see Dorothea somewhere in the court car- riages, and he longed to see her again as much, as if the sight could do him any possible good. There he stood, and he saw her. "s-@ ~
 Roundell brought his cllnched fist heavily down on the table as he spoke.
 ''In one of the court carriages, of course?" e,-..
 ''In the carriage of the grand duke, and seated by hls side. She was now his wife," tA..
 ssDorotheap" ...... ---.. , -.s...
 ''Dorothea herself" Roundell rose up from his seat in the window, and strode across the room, looked, or affected to look, at the clock over the chimney piece, returned to the table, stood there mo, ment, in silence, then turned himself out glass of claret, and drank it. "Yes" he went on "Dorothea was the grand duch- ess. Meta was only the cousin and com panion. It was a pious fraud she had tried to practice on the poor fellow who loved her, and whom she-well per- haps might have loved if he hadn't been poor devil without family or for tune. and she German princess" ''Did she see him?'
 "No, she was looking away when he first saw her, and then he drew out of the crowd, He spared her that. Meta saw him and turned pale. She was in the third or fourth carriage. Hc made her formal bow, as many others did and she returned it. But he saw by something in her eye as she glanced toward him that she knew the secret was safe. Then the fellow went home, and he left Liebe- sheim, the next morning."
 l remembered now how very suddenly Roundell himself had left Liebesheim that time, and how he was not at the court ball for which got the tickets, and where, as I have already said, I saw the grand duchess.
 "What became of the fellow?,,
 "Oh, nothing in particular. He lives. He promised to remember her, and I be- lieve he has kept his word" |. tDid he ever marry ?' ka 'sOh, no; he was not a marrying man, nor particularly fond of womar's company. believe he never cared for any but that one woman, and she married brute of grand duke. and now she's dead. That's all the story.
 II am glad to have heard it." I an. swered, although it's sad story enough. It's all the sadder to me, Roundall, now. l because find know the fellow. He looked at me, with kindly eyes, and nodded his head.
 ''Life has a good deal of that sort of thing. suppose" he said, If people on. ly knew 1t. The fellow wasn't any worse of than many other fellows. But don't much care about staying in Germany now. |"
 Modern Women.
 It IS sad commentary upon our bost-