The Worthington advance., 1877-11-01

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knew he had fallen wounded into the
hands of the enemy, and that he would
have written to me if he had not been
dead: The communication you make is
very valuable to me, and thank you for
it. This is indeed his ring; I remember
we'll having seen it on his finger. It be-
longed originally to me, but twas little
too large for me; he took it one day from
my hand, and placed it on his finger, say
ing the ring would only leave him with
his life; the scene is still before my eyes.
I laughed at his enthusiasm. He was
easily moved, and took a great many
things in the most tragic way which did
not touch me at all. We even often
quarreled over this, for he could not
pardon me my 'frightful calmness,' as he
called it. But he was good, true man,
poor Jacques, and l have often thought
fhim since his DEATH"
found it difficult to give expression
to my repulsion; but she did not seem to
notice at all the impression she made
upon me, and continued unconsciously:
$50 you had him buried in Ecouen.
have little villa in St. Gratien, and l
learn through my servants that the whole
district is full Of soldiers; therefore
would rather avoid the pilgrimage. Dur
ing the past two months 1 have had a
great many emotions, and need rest.
At the corner of the street, not hundred
steps from here, the communists built a
barricade. Fortunately, no fighting took
place. I should have died of terror
if l had heard cannonading near nv
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 letters
contain very little of interest, but 7
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. It is inclosed in
red leather, and can be known OF once by
the cover being stamped with my mono
gram, 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 I know of
the old lady, she will accede to anything
that you ask her in her sons name. I
myself"-an ugly smile fitted over her
features-"1 myself have not the honor
of knowing Nine. Fromentin; or I'd spare
you the trouble of bringing back my let
ters.
II 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 I took the hint and with
drew at once.
In the bottom of my heart was angry
| with the dead man for having bestowed
his love on such an unworthy object.
$50 that was the chaste Jeanne!" I
thought, and l 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 produccd-a Margaret Bel
langer, Cora Pearl, Anne Lions I con-
graduate the dead man on his death
He has certainly been spared much shame
and misery" Then l mcditatcd more
deeply: "His blood was young and hot,
poor fellowr' I philosophical, 'sand the
devil men call Venus could without diff
ficulty entirely beset him." What I
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, in spite
of the disappointment which nv visit to
Nine. de Villers had prepared me for,
was resolved to carry out conscientiouslv
Jacques Fromentin's last wishes. Nine
Fromentin lived in small house in a
quiet well-known street. The servant
who opened he door for me was an old
man with white hair. i remarked that
he was in deep mourning.
"Mme. Fromentin receives no one, ''said
he, as handed him my card
'Tell her that bring news of her SON.
"Of her scn-of NJ. Jacques" !" cried the
man, and became as pale as death. "Does
he still live?'
NO. said I sadly. l bring only the
news Of his death. 1 saw NJ. jacques
die!''
The old servant remained silent for a
moment, then slowly retired. At the
door which led to 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. Twas obliged
to wait several minutes before he return
ed to show me into the reception room. II
was large comfortable apartment, filled
with old-fashioned, substantial, unpre
tending furniture, which formed strik.
ing contrast to the parlor I had just left
Two portraits struck my eye at once. In
one l recognized Immediately Jacque.
Fromentin; the other represented love
ly girl OF marked, earnest beauty. Tht
resemblance in the EXPIRE ssion of the face.
made me recognize the two pictures a.
portraits of brother and sister. The dool
opened slowly, and turned around. A
venerable lady in the deepest mourning
entered theroom.
II am the mother of Jacques FromeE
tin - said she.
made low bow and touk seat be
side her My tongue clcaved to my pal
ate; knew not how to open the con
versation. It was clear to me that / die
not have courage, that I could not have
courage, to tell the unhappy lady before