The Portland daily press., 1879-03-08
THE PRESS.
To His Own Destruction.

on the fifth story, situated in one of the side
streets near Luxembourg 1t is fatiguing to
mount SO many stone stairs but we reach
our destination at last, aud without waiting
to be announced, let US answer,
1t is small apartment, consisting of three
psces-a salon, bedroom, kitchen and
offices. Tie bedroom is TO the left of the
salon, the Kitchen opposite. 1t is a compact
little apartment, neatly furnished and we'll
cared for. The rooms are not 100 small for
health, and large enough for the comfort
OF their two occupants. In the salon one or
two cabinets show an attempt at elegance.
Books abound all over the room; hidden
here under tables, there standing erect on
book-shelves; but the most distinctive feature
is an escritoire covered with papers. books and
writing materials. In the center stands a
large round table, covered with a tapestry
cloth. 1t is here the meals are served when
monsieur and madame receive company,
otherwise they use the kitchen to dine In
every day. As they employ no regular SER
want, madame finds this much more conven-
lent in every respect 1t is neat little
kitchen, with table in the middle, large
enough for their wants when alone. The
rest of this apartment is resplendent with
shining pots and pans, and all culinary re-
quisies.
But to return to the salon and its oceu-
pants. Monsieur and Madame are both in
there at present He is seated at his escri-
toire, thinking deeply, it seems he holds his
pen poised in one hand, while his head is
supported with its weight of thought on the
other. Madame is sitting by the window
working. They have their backs to each
other. 1t is four O'Clock in the afternoon;
september sun is lighting up the room with
oonque rays, casting cheerful glow athwart
this silent couple, as if charged with a daily
entreaty that they would be sociable. But
they heed not the message. Morning, noon
and night they stand in the close companion
ship of husband and wife, and yet heaven
and earth are not further apart The rela-
tionship under the circumstances is terrible,
to one OF them ct least; and monsieur, there
leaning his head ON his hand, is meditating
on it silently, acutely.
When he rises from his desk. which he
does presently, we see him. He is about
thirty-eight years old; tall, dark, handsome,
specialized, and moustached. AS difficult a
man to understand as to live happily with,
we should say; so cold and taciturn. always
buried in thought more or less and Madame,
sitting at the window. make no sign of COM
plant She is accustomed to the silence,
and cares not to speak, except to ask him in-
differ emily as he takes his hat and some
books before going out, "when he will re
turn"
cat the usual hour" was his laconic re-
ply; aud he leaves the room.
Her face wears no aspect of regret after he
has gone, she does not seem to mind his cold
ness, but continues her work with stod in =
difference. She is large woman, ten years
her husbands senior, and might pass for his
mother. Although, in her youth she was
not Unlocking by any means, she has now
but few romans OF beauty left. She is stout
and elderly,a nd wears the matter-of-fact look
suggested by stone that, to our mind, never
seemed to have asked que stion of any pow
er in nature as to why it is, where it is. 1t
is stone, and there it lies, without even de-
string 10 be kicked on little further. So it
seems with Madame. She is there part of
her apartment. She has been married to
Monsieur fifteen years. Once she had been
young, bat that was SO long ago! She had
forgotten all about it, and there are no chill
dren about her to renew the recollection.
She had brought Monsieur very fair dot
He was only poor student when she married
him. Their parents had arranged, and they
had acquiesced. Monsieur is now a profess
sor, and great student, living wholly in his
books; Madame, in her home aud her econo-
mics, like the good vile that she is. They
visit and are visited in return. They have
walked together, eaten together, dwell togeth
er tor years In an indissoluble companion
ship, and yet-as we have before remarked
heaven and earth we're not further apart.
"GrGnd DieI InsuportdbIep' now exclaims
one OF them.
It is Monsieur, who on his way down stairs
allows this grown to escape him.
But, ungrateful man that be is. what pos
sible fault can he find with Madame, his good
wife? Does she not sew for him. cook for
him, economic for him? His home is well
cared for, his substance not wasted. Is she
not virtue and responsibility itself?
Yes, she is all this he must own. And
yet mon Dieu! how insupportable is life with
herI
Fifteen years had be borne it; silently, IN.
complainIngly, dead life of unsympathetic
routine with woman against whom no one
could justly bring single charge of neglected
duty. When he was sick did she not nurse
him night and day? Did she not We her
money to aid IN his support? Did she not,
when he was only poor student, marry him?
And what return had he made for all this?
Acceptance and resignation hitherto. But
now there was an upheaval of feeling at
work within him that portended volcanic
crisis. SLOW, silent natures that never COM
plain can endure intensely up to a certain
point; but when the fire of necessity asserts
itself in them, it bursts forth nto flames that
lay all around in ruins.
He runs down the stairs rapidly, as if anx-
ious to gain time, and is soon in the gardens
of the Luxembourg. gay at this hour with
uOOpS Vi duu pcucStElduSs
Presently his eye brightens aud his pace
quickens as he catches sight of a young wild
ow lady holding little boy by the hand. the
child is entreating his mother to stop that he
may watch man who is feeding a multitude
OF sparrows, which he has drilled to come at
his call.
She yields readily, and it is while standing
there among group of lookers-on that Mon
sieur joins her.
She greets him with a smile and look
that tell their own tale, and brings the quick
Color to his pale, care-worn cheeks. Alb, yes,
she loves h,m.-he feels it; he knows it: and
she is widow-and free! While he is still
10 the grip of bondage worse to him than
death.
Poor Marie, standing there with her little
boy watching sparrows, she, too, has bad her
tragedy. With what fial obedience did she
marry the wealthy old man her parents sold
her to as soon as she bad left school, where
she had first met Monsieur, who had been
her professor. Sand now she is free. Free
to love as nature and her heart dictate, It
is pleasant to see Monsieur every day. She
has known him so long! 1t has been such
an old affair between them-when she was a
girl and he was her professor. He was not
Indifferent 10 her then, she thinks, and he
loves her nowP' With loves unfailing ms
tinct, she knows he does-and- how she
loves himl Aud why not9 She i, free.
Selfish egotist! She forgets poor Madame
yonder, sitting calmly at her work by the
window. What avails her freedom while
Madame exists2
"Grand Dieu! Insupporta5Iew again groans
Monsieur as he approaches her. Not even
the joy OF seeing her can make him forget his
chains, it renders them all the more felt,
While the old man. her husband, was living,
he had borne the burden in silence, and the
pain grew dull unnourshed bv her presence:
life became mechanical at last; but when the
old man died his torments awoke, and the
whole burden of his pain found constant out
lets In that one cry of "Grand Dieu! Insup.
portable"
He remains talking to Marie for a quarte,
Of an hour. 1t seems hard to recognize in
this PASSIONATE voluble speaker the cold and
silent man of the apartment There he was
dead here he is alive with the whole force of
his being. 1t is the absence and the presence
of love in either case that had wrought the
miracle.
Aud Marie, how tender and bewitching she
looks, as she listens TO him! Sire thinks she
is doing no wrong, for she calls him Mon