Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-03-10

pOssessOr Of 80 much wealth; he dreaded
| to meet the proud lady of gBagatelle, and
a thousand times he wished himself back
to his own desolate chamber. .
While occupied with these thoughts,
! the door was opened, and Eugene Bel
mont entered. Camille arose and bowed
as she came forward, without raising his
eyes to her face. With voice as ravish-
| ingly sweet as that of angels when well
coming souls to heavenly bliss, she ad-
dressed him, and on subject which is
always interesting to every man-him-
self.
"May ask whether you are Monsieur
darcy, the poet ?"
81 do not know, madamoiselle.
whether [ deserve the name of poet, but
plead guilty to publishing volume of
verse year ago, which brought me little
| fame and less money"
"Your beautiful book should have Sc
cured you both
! Sam [ to understand that Made
moiselle Belmont has read my little
| book?'
81 have read and admired it over and
over again, and, if all the world were
like me, your book would have made you
| famous"
:" If all the world were like you, made
moiselle, it would be paradise" cried
Camille, overjoyed to hear his neglected
book praised.
"Look at me, Monsieur 'Arcy; is par
adise composed of such?"
Camille raised his eyes to her face;
those withered lips were endeed hideous,
but he couldnot consider them revolving,
for from them had come words of praise
and encouragement, to cheer him onward
in his effort
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines affair.""
Those cheeks were thin and yellow, but
perhaps they had glowed with enthusiasm
over his volume"
IF you will excuse me, mademoiselle,
[ will say that the Hours are not quite SO
plain.
"Don't mince matters, Monsieur
darcy; my mirror tells me the truth,
and want you to do likewise"
/" But, mademoiselle, it is not custom
airy for gentlemen to speak SO plainly to
ladies about their personal appearance :"
"Monsieur Camille darcy, want you
to understand, once for all, that Eugene
Belmont is not like other women; there
fore do not hesitate to say what you think
of me"
"Well, mademoiselle, if you ,UiG in
slst upon it, [ can only say that you are
indeed bitter ugly"
g Bitter ugly! that is quite refreshing;
bitter ugly-very good, indeed" cried
Eugene, with a laugh as sweet and mu-
steal as a silver bell.
"I am glad, mademoiselle, that my
plainness has not offended you. 1t is
certainly venturing upon rather danger
GUS ground to tell lady she is ugly"
you must remember that 1 am not
like other women
Eugene then rang the bell, and or
dered the servant who answered it to ar
| RANGE tho blue room The man bowed
and Withdrew.
You have harp, mademoiselle-do
you play and sing ?" asked Camille, draw
ing her attention to p superb instrument
in one corner of the room.
Sometimes, to while away weary
hour"
"Wont you favor me with some mu-
sic ?" asked Camille, handing her the
harp.
with pleasure, said Eugene, lightly
drawing her hand over the strings, and
ehciting strains 80 heavenly sweet that
they might have come from the inspired
fingers of st. Cecilia. "What shall L
sing ?"
Your favorite I am sure what
pleases you will please me-"
Thank you. Listen
Eugenie sang one of his own sad little
IS
Camille was deeply affected, and, when
the last soft notes died away, he said:
"Mademoiselle, could thank you on
my knees for your sweet kindness in
singing that and callingit your favorite"
AS he spoke, door at the lower end
of the room glided back, displaying an
inner apartment arranged for q repast
monsieur d Arcy, [ want you to par
take of some fruit which L have had
served In the next room"
With pleasure" said Camille, rising
and offering his arm to escort her to the
sCrtte-a-maoager."
Monsieur, said Eugene, as they sat
down to a tempting array of delicacies,
81 wish you to see what Bagatelle can
produce. All the fruit before you was
raised IN my garden.
1'They are, hike everything else here,
delightful said Camille, tasting lus-
cious peach. "Indeed, I can hardly be-
lieve that all / have seen to-day is real
and substantial. Walking through your
splendid grounds, I could have imagined
myself In the garden of Hesperides;
seated In your gorgeous saloon, could
hardly help fancying that I saw an en-
chanting vision which would soon dis
solve, leaving me nothing but the dull
realities of LIE"
You poets are like that ethereal bird,
the huma, which never touches the
ground; you are always flying in the air,
and dislike to touch this poor earth of
ours" @
Had the wings Of an eagle, I could
not fly to more delightful retreat than
[ have found to-day, nor receive more
gratifying welcome than that which you