The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1880-10-22
AN AN1HE NJ.
1--WE twain, once well asunder,
What will the mad gods do
For hate, with me, l wonder,
Or what with love for Won 2D

What will the mad gods do
For hate, with me, wonder,
Or what with love for your"
She struck the chords with a firm
hand. Her splendid voice rang out on
the dramatic words with power that
gave them new meaning; then ceasing
as suddenly as she had begun, she swept
away from the piano, at which she had
been standing, and threw herself on
low sofa near by. Her companion
watched her closely.
"No personal application, as the
minister used TO sGy, eh, Jsabel?" he
asked, with half smile. "If so, YOU
would be obliged to reverse the last
lines. The mad gods hate me, am
sure"
If those whom they love die young,n
she replied after a little pause, you
may consider yourself fortunate, / sup
pose. But, really, isn't it foolish in you
to say that, when your life is such
prosperous oneP But those same minis
tiers used sometimes to remark upon
tempting Providence, Harry. | sup
pose you know what that means, or
used to in the days when you heard
ministers"
upon my word, that time is too far
off to be recalled easily" was the an
swer: "Why didn't you finish the
songp i have stronger taste for music
than moralizing, as you know"
But it is time for mcralizing."
"Since wbenP" he asked.
s,ncesInug r9h am net net good ct S spsGifcatons
and found me here in Florence. And
there's a reason in Illinois why you
shouldn't be here now. And we both
know it, Harry"
The voice was gentle, but beyond
slightly persuasive tone, rs devoid OF
any emotion as her face looked at that
moment. She clasped her hands in her
lap, and the diamond she wore on one
flashed in the candlelight with bril-
liant red glow. His eye caught it.
And another, equally good, in Flor
ence, you might say" he retorted. g
see It on your finger, Florence and Hi
nois,n' with half laugh, heaven and
hell"
"Haryw
"Yes, yes, 1 understand, and you
would be glad to have me leave one for
the other. I'm getting tiresome, and
was little slow in finding it out in
Illinois, Isabel" with a curious change
in his voice-"in Illinois did not so
utterly fail in pleasing you. But you
did not wear the counts diamond
thenp"
She smiled up at him.
sing tonight, you know"
:" did not know. Is there any nigh
when you do not singP"
"a few, and those / have given you,
Harry" she answered, rising as sle
spoke. He rose, too. standing close D,-
side her.
81 have bad temper. You remen-
ber 1t, OF course, Isabel. in ILLINOIS,
and he tried to laugh, but without sue
cess.
The count is coming back to-nor-
row."
Tomorrow
$50 it is goodbye this time, not
goodnight only. I've been glad to see
you after all these years.
And between us and these years
there is great gulf fixed" he inter-
rupted, with bitterness. There's been
an awful mistake, somewhere, label.
Thank God no one need suffer for it but
myself" and he was gone while the
words were upon his lips,
Isabel Vavasseur is the finest Am e
ican singer we have had among us for a
long time"
So declared Mrs. Livingston, the
American bankers wife, and a self con-
stituted authority on all art subjects
among the American residents in Flor
ence.
But supposed she was French" :"
remarked a lady on her right; her
name is FRENCH, certainly"
Yes, her father was French, but she
was 5ornsin one of our Western States--
Indiana or Illinois. / think she told me
Il don't remember which. Here she is
now," and conversation quieted as the
| singer entered.
She was French in style as in name, a
very brilliant woman. The great flash
ing eyes were peculiarly lustrous. Her
abundant black hair was twisted simply
around her head and without ornament.
| She wore a soft trailing dress OF black
lace, fastened at the throat with small
pearl cross. Her beautiful arms were
bare. She had removed her gloves, and
on one hand the counts ring sparkled.
1t was magnificent jewel, an heirloom
in the Turroni family, and recognized
by more than one of her audience.
- wonder Turroni allows her TO sing
any more" began Mrs. Livingston, who
could never remain long quiet; " but
she insists upon 1t. She has often de
clared to me that music was her life
all she had on earth but i should thinh
the counts devotion would change I'll
that. How very pale she is tonight
and her dress-very few women could
dress in that style and not suffer for it
But i really think 1t is more becoming
to her than any color Or"
The nrst notes OF the music proved m
effective check to the monotonous flow
OF Mrs. Hvingston's conversation
greatly to the relief of Mrs. Kinnard
her hostess, fussy little woman, over
anxious about the success OF the frs
musicale she had ever given.
Isabel Vavasseur never sang bette
than TO that small, appreciative audienc'
OF her own country people; but in thu
last piece on the programme, as sh'
| etonpQd short har auaa fixad har faQl