Louisiana capitolian. (Baton Rouge, La.) 1879-1881, 1879-02-15

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for all her sensitiveness Of soul, the old
Corsican blood that never forgave an in
jury was in her veins; and late one night
she summoned her dastardly tradncer to
her bedside, and asked him to kiss her
on the mouth. He stopped to comply
with the request; but, before he touched
her lips, she rallied her remaining
strength with one great effort, and stab
bed him through his base, vile heart.
And then she died" 7
Her hearers faces had lost their smiles,
and the Counts head was bent as he
toyed nervously with his watchguard.
The singer broke into peal of silvcry
laughter.
| 81 see you have drained the toast, Sir
Count" she said. "The sentiment, at
least, if not the practice, does you credit.
am sorry my story has impressed you
so much, for must now bid you good
night"
She kissed her hand, and, bowling
gracefully, left the room.
The Prince rode home with the Count
in his carriage. The Count had shaken
off his gloom, and seemed in the gayest
possible mood, talking and testing all
the way. He and the Prince together
alighted and assembled the steps to the
palace.
"Glacomo," he began, addressing the
servant who admitted them; then he
paused as though he had forgotten what
he was about to say, and then-fell dead
upon the marble pavement of the floor.
Tho "Sirens of tho Sea" was an i'm
mense success. 1t was more-it was a
glorious triumph. The stage was COW
cred with bouquets, and the ladies
stripped the rings from their fingers and
the jewels from their Threats to cast
them upon the stage as tokens of their
admiration for the singer. Never before
had she appeared so beautiful, never be-
fore had her acting been so truthful,
never before was her voice so superbly
sweet and exquisitely melodions.
She came behind the scenes after bow
ing her acknowledgements for the third
or fourth time, and the audience were
clamoring more vociferously than ever
before for her temperance, when boy
slipped a note into her hand. Opening
it, she read:
The police are waiting at the side
door to arrest you for the death of the
Count last night. understand the i'm
pulses that moved you to the deed, and
have a carriage waiting at the gallery
egress. Assume male attire, and mixing
with the crowd, you will pass unsuspec-
ted. The cOachman wears red rosette.
In all honor l make the proposal.
d. LIRA.
The audience were still clamoriny for
her to appear again, and going to the
manager, she spoke few words to him
and entered the dressing room, while he
advanced before the curtain and an
nounced that the signorina would dance
for their pleasure if they would have but
patience. The bell rang, the orchestra
struck up the music, the curtain lifted,
and the signorina appeared on the stage.
She was dressed in the lightest of gauzy
draperies, that floated about her like
diaphanous mist, with rich East III
dian scarf over one shoulder and wound
about her waist. Her face was flushed,
and she seemed excited; but that might
only have been caused by qualification
at the plaudits showered upon her.
The music was from the opera of the
night-a chorus of sirens lulling the fas-
cinated mariners to their last dreamless
sleep. At first it was low and plaintiye,
and the dancer seemed to be possessed of
invisible wings, SO fairy-like she hoated
along. Then gradually it rose and grew
gayer and gayer until it almost resem-
bled the notes ola bacchanalian revel in
its abandon and voluptuousness, and
the dancers supple body swayed to the
time, while her graceful feet trod the
making very picture of SEN
suous delight.
The music died away like the cadence
Of choir of wind-swept harps, and the
dancer paused and bowed. Once more
she bowed and kissed her jewe'ed hand,
md then sank heavily to the ground.
The curtain fell hurriedly, and the
audience with one breath cried:
"She has faintedw
But they behind the curtain who rails
I'd her beautiful head knew it was q
'wOon from which she would never ava
Ken. The subtle Italian poison that had
'tilled the pulse of the Cound dc Che
and had doneits work no less etfectually |
With his beautiful and gifted murderess,
n whose clenched and rigid fingers they
Ound few words addressed to the
Prince di Lira:
Believe my gratitude, but it can never
We. 1t is too late. My fate cannot now
'e revoked, and go to tread my dance
# death.
A PATRIOTIC EFFUSION, n