The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1880-06-21
Her Rival.
A Story Of the Latin Quarter, Paris.
lCONCLUDED.l

Htr anu cOHic tO-nlBnIr NO one VIII fcc0g-
nize you under your wells, and here are
are all going. Think of all the good Ameri-
can folk-clergymen an ldeacons-who go to
the Mabille, and certainly this is no worse"
Mrs. de Forest demurred little, but
finally consented. She had peculiar theo-
ries of education which had perhaps given
Amy, the truthful, healthy outlook upon
life which she possessed in a remarkable de-
gree for so young woman. Ii she h ID
none of the illusions that dwarf the mental
vision of more romantic girls, she had pure
and generous instincts unbiased by fear or
prejudice. What corruption could there be
in tawdry students ball for girl who had
weighed the problems of life in her own
mind and found the balance in favor of law
and order?
1t was noisy and motley scene they en-
countered-gaudy and common of necessity
but with some artistic quality in its fibre,
born OF the city and its people, Guy Rains
ford felt Miss de Forest shrink as she chung
to his arm.
What is the matter, Miss de Forest? Are
You afraid?'
mo; only sorry-only sorry for these
poor people. don't think | have a taste
for dissipation after all, Mr.. Rainsford."
II thought the sight of little would cure
you. If women in general could see some
thing of life they would soon lose that NOR
bid admiration for fastness that troubles
many of them. All, there is Augustine
dancing; she is quite different from the
rest''
The party forced its way through the
crowd to within few feet of its edge. In
the space left for the dancers stood shapely
girl, with her fair chestnut hair rolled high
above and about her head, her perfect arms
and shoulders barred and adorned with the
sequins of the Palais Royal, scarlet bodice
and short skirt of yellow satin founced
with black lace. There was touch of
paint on her lashes and an artificial depth of
color on her lovely cheek. The castanets
ratified as she curved her arms above her
head and twinkled her light feet, swaying
her little body to and fro, till with her large,
pale head she looked like the round lily-cup
swaying on the waters surface, to which
Miss de Forest had that morning compared
her. In the front of the crowd stood Arthnr
Duncan, towering head and shoulders
above his neighbors, his handsome face
aglow, his eyes brilliant with excitement
and eagerly following every curve of the
dancers motion.
HE has forgotten that I exist" thought
Amy de Forest, bitterly, and she trembled
from head to foot. "Take me home, Mr..
Rainsford. Speak to mamma, please-the
air here is sitting. 1 am sorry to take YOU
away, but do not feel able to stay"
Guy Rainsford took Mrs. de Forest and
her daughter home and then returned to
the hall. One of the other men told him
that Arthur Duncan looked strangely
troubled when he was informed that Miss
de Forest had gone away ill with the atmos-
phere of the place.
When the dance was over Arthur stole
away to the door of the dancers dressing
oV1dN fnd fA 4c1ro L.
rooms, high up in one of the old houses
frowned upon by the Sorbonne. The exer-
else and the applause of the crowd had
heightened her beauty and made her abso-
lutely dazzling in her radiant health and
youth Arthur, looking upon her as she sat
over her supper, drinking the red wine,
mixing her salad with the hearty abandon
OF the peasant nature she had brought from
the Pyrenees, felt strangely the pathos of
the stern necessity which could cast this
perfect creature, this type of the worlds
youth and morning under the iron wheels of
the great Partisan death-cart The chimesof
the Sorbonne struck the four-quarters, soft.
sweet, little voices. In all his after-life
whenever he found guitar, his hand in
stinctively struck the four sweet small notes
and before him rose a vision of a woman
enveloped in floating fair hair, with white
robes loose about her shoulders, andsarge
eyes just touched with slumber like tRe
great pale morning star.
Miss de Forest visited his studio the fol-
lowing day. Her eyes were heavy. and dark
shadows played about them. She. too. had
heard the Sorbonne chimes strike the bonr
A strange fascination led her to wish to see
the pictured face that had done her so much
harm. When she saw the vaporous, buov
ant shape, with its rounded outlines defined
by the floating drapery, the long fair hair
curving among the clouds, the lovely. scnsu-
GUS face softened to the evanescence and
dewiness OF a dream, she knew that She
could never hope to rival this wonderful
creature. She congratulated Mr.. Duncan
cordially on the success of his work. and
went home with breaking heart.
When Mr.. Duncan that evening took his
way to Augustine's rooms, he found her
gone. She had moved away that morning.
the concierge said, taking everything with
her. On the bare table at which She had
sat at supper the night before, he found
note addressed to himself, and written in
that half-French, half-Spanish idiom which
had been so effective coming from her full
req lips, and was no less so, misspelt on
paper.
"MoN AMI-Your picture is finished. You
nave no further need of me. am tired of the
QUARTER, the artists, the dancing, the bad
cooking. have moved across the Seine into
higher sphere, mon cher. Do not try to fol-
low me; it would be useless. 1 have deceived
You thousand times as you have that pauyre
petite demoiselle we met yesterday. / asked
you if she were your financee, you said No: but
last night saw her at the Butler. Under her
vail the great tears were in her eyes. She loves
you, mi amigo. l can read faces. Marry her.
make her happy. You will never do it while re-
you; c'eSt pour ca que JIG m'enUole!''
Ha road and ,o rood H. 1o....
and put it in his pocket, gave one glance
about the room. When the chimes struck
the quarter-hour, he started as from a
dream, and went down stairs out into the
night. he strolled along the quay, looked
down into the rushing water that seemed TO
bear the burden of weary hearts down to
their resting place in the sea. A great star
hung over Notre Dame, lambert and steady.
Which was 1t like, Augustine or Amy-poor
little Amy who had watched and waited for
him, all unconscious of Augustine's exist
ence9 That chapter of his life was closed.
de wondered if it was love he felt for Au
gustine or the sensuous admiration of the
artistic temperament. She had been to
him his goddess of morning, and ever fibre
OF his soul had been filled with the divine
impulse OF creation-she was his picture.
his life, himself. And yet it was ALWAYS Of
Amy that he had thought while he worked.
always her voice that sounded in his ear
squirting him on to effort and success. He
passed her house and saw CLEAN of white
IN the moonlight among the flowers of the
balcony. He would go and tell her ALL
lie found her alone, sitting on low chair
among the pansies and heliotropes and early
roses. They talked upon Indifferent sub
Jects more and more remote from the one
nearest their hearts. AT length Arthur
said: II heard you were at the Butler last
evening, Miss De Forest.''