The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1877-10-13

/ IL.
found it difficult not to give expires
sion to my repulsion; but She did not
seem to notice at all the impression
she made upon me. and continued uncon-
sciously:-
:" So you had him buried in Ecouen
| have little villa in st. Gratien, and ]
learn through my servants that the
whole district is full of soldiers; there
fore l would rather avoid the pilgrimage
During the past two months | have had
a great many emotions and | need rest
AT the corner of the street, not hun.
dred steps from here, the communists
built barricade. Fortunately, no fight
ing took place. | should have died OF
terror if [ had heard cannonading near
my house.
/ had risen, but did not move.
" One thing more" said she, and took
the key which had given her with the
ring. 1t was small gold key, prettily
ornamented, and easy to recognize.
Jacques had the oldest way of putting
carefully aside every word | wrote to
him. For this purpose he had peculiar
box made which this key opens; the let
tiers contain very little of interest, but |
should be sorry to have them fall into
strangers hands. May | beg you to pro-
cure them for me? You will find the
little chest in his room. 1t is enclosed in
red leather, and can be known at once
by the cover being stamped with my
monogram, j. de W"
You forget that do not know where
the late Mons. Jacques Fromentin lived,
and | have no right to intrude upon his
home"
"He lived with his mother" She
gave me the address. As far as [ know
of the old lady, she will accede to any
thing that you ask her in her sons name.
| myself''-an ugly smile fitted over her
features-"I myself have not the honor
of knowing Nine. Fromentin or
should spare you the trouble of bringing
back nv letters"
[ shall cheerfully do everything to
fulfill the last wishes of Jacques Fromen-
tin," said I.
She rose, as much as to say, "You
may go now and | took the hint and
withdrew at once.
In the bottom of my heart / was an
cry with the dead man for having be-
slowed his love on such an unworthy
l
| thought, and / compared the reality
with the picture my fancy had painted.
" Madame de Villers, the beloved mis-
tress of jacques, is simply one of the
countless Aspasias whom the modern
Athens has produced-a Margaret Bel
LANCER, Cora Pearl, Anne de Lions. |
congratulate the dead man ON his death
He has certainly been spared much shame
and misery" Then | meditated more
deeply. His blood was young and hot,
poor fellow!' philosophical, 'and the
devil men call Venus could without
difficulty entirely besot him." What |
could not pardon Jacques was that he
had not appeared to have thought for
his mother.
| went straightway to her house, for
my stay in Paris was to be brief, and, in
spite of the disappointment which my
visit to Nine. de Viliers had prepared me
for, | was resolved to carry out conscien-
tiously Jacques Fromentin's last wishes.
Nine. Fromentin lived in a small house
in a quiet, well-known street The ser
want who opened the door for me was an
old man with white hair. | remarked
that he was in deep mourning.
Nine. Fromentin receives no one, y
said he, as | handed him my card.
90 Tell her that | bring news of her
son, )" replied [.
:" Of her son-of NJ. Jacques!" cried
the man, and became as pale as death.
Does he still Iive?"
"No," said | sadly. II bring only the
news of his death. | saw NJ jacques
dieI"
The old servant remained silent for a
moment, then slowly retired. At the
door which led into the house he stood
still an instant, as if he were considering
how he should announce me- then he
heaved a deep sigh, shook sorrowfully
his white head and entered the hall. |
was obliged to wait several minutes be-
fore he returned to show me into the re-
ceptiOn room. 1t was a large, comfort
able apartment, filled with old-fashioned,
substantial, unpretending furniture.
which formed striking contrast to the
parlor [ had just left. Two portraits
struck my eve at once. In one | recog
nized Immediately Jacques Ffomentin
the other represented a lovely girl of
marked, earnest beauty. The resem-
blance in the expression of the faces
made me recognize the two pictures as
portraits of brother and sister. The
door opened slowly, and | turned around.
A venerable lady in the deepest mourn
ing entered the room.
g | am the mother of Jacques Fromen-
tin," said she.
| made low bow and took seat be-
side her. My tongue cleaved to my
palate; | knew not how to open the con-
versation. 1t was clear to me that | did
not have courage, that | could not have
courage, to tell the unhappy lady before
me the whole truth concerning the death
of her son.
p" You are already aware of the mis-
fortune that has befallen you," I began,
in low voice.
She made a mute sign with her head
and then covered her burning eyes with
her hand; but | saw the bitter tears on
her emaciated cheeks, and my heart felt
as if it would burst. | rose, seized her
disengaged hand, which lay in her lap,
and reverently kissed it.
F" Your son died the death of the noble
and the brave" | continued. :" wish
| could give you comfort"
" Nothing can give me comfort" re-
pied she, amid her tears. My God
how shall / live? what shall | do? Since
the day he disappeared, | have shortened
my life with grief and anguish? l
longed to hope that he still lived-that
he was prisoner; that he was wounded,
that he could not write; but for two
months | have known the worst, for |
have found his grave"
She could say no more-her grief
choked her. | dared not break the
mournful silence. After a few minutes