The Portland daily press., 1879-03-08

|
| SPIDER" thinks Madame. There is reason
too, fer this, they affect her physically and
make her slck. She cannot eat her soup, for
the spider has crawled on the edge of her ba-
sin. How tiresome! and she is hungry. Vitei
her husband has no such fancies-she will
change basins with him. The spider has
crawled away. Not for worlds could she kill
| 1t. 1t has gone, and she has changed basins
with her husband, and now she can enjoy
| her soup.
She eats slowly, silently, dipping her bread
into the liquid now and again, and then she
finishes 1t. Still her husband has not re-
turned. But she never questions Monsieurs
movements; when he has written bis memo
randum he Will return. Meanwhile his soup
Is covered up and keeping warm for him;
| Madame, moreover, has taken the precaution
to wipe the cover; he will not be disguised by
the unslghtly dust or spders-Ouf!
inns Is Madame's thought as she wipes her
mouth with her seruiette. She can wait now,
having satisfied her hunger, until Monsieur's
return before serving up the second course.
She leans back in her chair stOlid and COM
| Portable, and then Monsieur walks in.
| lie is very calm. He does not look at his
wife, but takes his seat at the table, and re-
moving the cover begins to eat.
SD is good-the SOUP" says Madame.
throwing out remark, sand very reviviDg:
was hungry"
| He does not answer, but drinks spoonful
after spoonful, not slowly and leisurely as
Madame had done, but hurriedly, as though
| the time spent ln writing bis memorandum
| had to be made good by fast eating. 1t does
not take him loug to finish his soup. A very
| lew minutes sees it all consumed, and his ba-
| sin is as empty as Madame's.
When all is gone he rises again from the
| table.
"What won't you wait for the bouilH?"
| says Madame, wFo rises also to take the meat
| from the pot and dish it up.
mo, thank you," he answers; II cannot
eat any more. I must 60. Finish without
me-"
| He returns to the salon to fetch his hat,
| not daring to look behind him as he leaves
| the kitchen, where Madame is busy with the
meat. His hat is on the table, aud he goes
over to fetch it, but why is it he cannot put
| it on his head and go? He stands there,
rooted apparently TO the ground, fascinated
| by some influence impossible to withstand,
that compels him to watch and listen and
wait.
What is he waiting for? A cry, perhaps
| or what?
But all is silent. Madame is eating her
meat. slowly enjoying it; the only sound that
reaches hun through the half open doors is
the occasional click of ner knife and fork
| against the plate, or when the bottle from
which she pours her wine jiDgles against the
glass
How he listens! All his senses seem pre-
ternaturally strained in the endeavor to catch
some sound from within. But none comes.
"Why should it? Fool! 1t is too soon.
Natural causes don't work thus SUDDENLY
he thinks, wrenching his feet by an effort
away from the spot to which they appear to
have been chained. He will go out now, but
| he must not forget some cigarettes. And he
delays again, while searching for the materi-
| ais to make one.
| Madame has finished her dinner by this
time, and having cleared away as usual, she
leaves everything in readiness for the con-
cierge's wife the next morning, and returns
| to the salon.
1t has been growing dusk for the last quar-.
ter of an hour, and Madame lights the lamp.
She thinks Monsieur has gone out, and utters
mild exclamation of surprise to find him
still in the salon, where he has been sitting
for the last ten minutes, still pursued by a
spell that forbids him to leave the room. At
ter finding his smoking materials, he had
flung himself into seat, where Madame finds
| him.
| He starts up on seeing her enter with the
| lamp and excuses himself.
Il was SO very tired that sat down for
moment and forgot how time goes"
you work your brain too much" SAYS
Madame, placidly. "You have eaten moth
ing but the soup-you took no wine. You
Will grow i'll ii you fail TO supply the stomach
with sufficient nourishment. Let me fetch
you some wine." Then Madame puts down
the lamp the table aud sees him.
'Your face! What pallor! You are ill?
Speak-say what is the matter!' she ex-
claims, shaken odt of her sto!idity by his ter
| rbe appearance-for he is staring at her
with CHASTITY stare and his face is con-
| vulsed With horror.
She hurries into the kitchen to bring him
wine; holds it to his lips, and INCREASINGLY
ne swallows 1t. linen he rises, saying he
! will go out.
"You are not fit to 60 out" demonstrates
Madame. "Rest quietly. 1 shall have YOU
laid up ill for days it you work your brain anv
more to day. Sit where you are To-mor.
row you will be better"
/ He obeys her. He feels powerless to assert
bis will any longer. He is conscious of a
gnawing sinking aud sickness that prostrates
him, and he yields to her commands-and
watches her!
Her calmness now returns. Monsieur ia
| subject to occasional fits of cerebral excite
ment when be has been much overworked.
Sue has nursed him through more than one
| attack. Quiet is what he needs, and nothing
more is requisite. She takes chair and
draws it to the table to be nearer the lamp.
tor she wants to work. The light falls upon
her face, throwing out every feature, every
movement, distinctly. Monsieur, in the
shadow, sits like one fascinated; he cannot
take his eyes off her-and watches her.
Thus two hours pass away.
Thine flies SO fast when one is occupied"
thinks Madame, as the clock strikes nine.
Monsieur has closed his eyes at last, over
powered by the mesmeric pendulum of Mad
| ames needle.
She looks at him, and thinks it time he
were in bed. Putting away her work, she
goes to him, and touching him lightly on the
arm, says:
"You will be better in bed. Let me assist
you"
He opens his eyes vacantly; then they
grow wild. He struggles to lift himself up to
a standing posture, bnt in the endeavor to do
| so he falls forward with groan, and lies COL
lapsed with agony.
Madame is in a fright for this is phase of
Monsieur's malady she has not before wit.
! hessed. When she tries to raise him he is
rigid, and she summons the concierge's wife
| to her assistance.
"Vite-runp she txclaims. ssMy husband
has fallen in fit! Fetch doctor at oncep'
The concierge's wife sends her husband.
and returns to help Madame. Between
them they carry Monsieur into the adjoining
bedroom and put him info bed where he
lies writhing and groaning until the doctor
comes.
After thorough examination, thd doctor
looks grave and, turning to Madame, says,
''This is sad case of poisoning"
"Poison! Impossbeg' exclaims Madame.
Yes, poison," repeats the doctor severely.
sWhat has he eaten?''
"Nothing but little SOUP" says Madame,
land little wine. l took both the soup and
wine at the same time, and behold me !! I am
not poisoned"
Notwithstanding his mortal pain, Monsieur
hears what passes between Madame and the
doctor. Turning to the latter he says:
"Send the women out, would speak to
you alone"
The doctor conveys the message, and the
two women retire. AS soon as they are
alone, Monsieur asks:
us it true, doctor? Is this polson?''
"Yes-poison."
"And am dying-past all remedy?"
"Past all remedy" echoed the doctor.
"Have you any idea who gave it to you?
Can you tell me anything that will bring the |
aui m