Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1882-04-01
Ill.

III.
Horace was staying at Oman. The Baroness
de Pontiac and her daughter had arrived, and
called on Nine. dHarcourt. OF course, ON Hor-
aces return he would be dancing attendance
upon his fancee.
Robert had written. was too depressed to
feel wounded at the tone Of his reply, or might
have resented his agreeing with me on the de-
postscript he added that he had the promise Of
the vicarage OF Capel-le-Ferne, and its 81 500 q
year; and came to the conclusion that his Joy
at his worldly advancement had taken away the
sting from his hearts adversely. / was thank
full that it was so. The morning was clear and
bright, and q swim in the sea was tempting
remedy to drown duh care, so I strolled down
leisurely to the beach. l was late, and when
emerged from my "cabane" found q crowd of
gossiping idlers In possession OF every chair and
available seat. Not nook or corner but was
smoking and ''frivolling."
Classically draped In my white wrapper, my
hair piled up on high, undisfgured with the oil
skin cap the French ladies affected, hurriedly
walked through the criticising audience. and
leaving my mantle In Perrine's care, was soon
dispOrting myself In the crisp sunny waves.
After longer swim than usual / waded out
dripping NiOhe. l looked for Perrine and my
wrapper-in vain; she was nowhere to be seen.
After momentary hesitation prepared to run
the gauntlet Of the assembled multitude and
Iudhc QUICK ruSfl dt SuelteTiflS
With a sudden inspiration Embossed my long
hair and let its shining golden glory fall around
my costume, thereby trying to feel little less
AFFECT. and so made my way through the ''mob,"
as 1 spitefully called the lOungers surrounding
the cabanes. With ludcrous sense Of humil-
iation and flaming cheeks / saw Horace in
lively conversation with Partisan elegante,
exactly in front Of my haven OF refuge.
made frantic dart at the canvas door,
to be greeted with the sight of an unmistakable
pair Of manly boots. l turned and fed-oh!
mserie! in my confusion l had forgotten the
number. l must pass them, vaguely wondering
if beach etiquette expected me to acknowledge
Horace. l prepared for another dash-when a
lady obhgingly pointed out canvas tent with a
polite "c'est la. mademoiselle, and rushed in
to hide my bushes under the friendly canvas.
On my return, B0nne-maman told me she ex-
pected the Baroness de Pontiac and her daugh-
ter and Horace.
Although l was broken-hearted, vanity was
not dead; determined to look my best. l
gathered my hair in a knot, and placed among
the wavy fringe Of curls some gorgeous crimson
tinnias. half feared q rebuke from Bonnie
maman as to being Over-dressed-so slipped on
a black silk gown, wherein had artfully in
serted white lace tucker and shiny jet-em-
broidered rufffes; another cluster Of scarlet tin
MAS and black mittens finished of the severe
room prepared to make the acquaintance Of the
hateful de POntacs.
Mdlle. Berthe only was there, arrayed in fash
iOnable attire, and / was scarcely surprised to
recognize in her Horace's lively companion of
the morning. Horace behaved beautifully in
Bonne-maman's eyes. After greeting me cOldly
he overlooked my Insignificant presence, lost in
the overpowering brilliancy OF the sparkling and
amusing Berthe. She absorbed him entirely.
They were making arrangements for trip to
Mont st. Michel, where he and had talked of
going. How wretched felt, how wild with the
SpP Troi from no
at Dol, on to the HOspice." l must make die
version, and somewhat abruptly asked 'Mdlle.
de Pontiac to play or sing. In vain Bonne-maman
objected that it was getting dusk, and she did
not want lights, as it rested her eyes. Mdlle.
Berthe, gracefully shaking out her pufs and
laces, sweetly observed that she would play for
Nine. d'HarcOurt, and sing for MademOisele.
She ratified through a noisy and brilliant
piece, and then her voice, sharp and metallic,
filled the air: ST vOuS n'aveZ rien me dire"
She was singing it at Horace, who, apparently
buried in thought, was sitting near her. Won
dered if he remembered it as one of the songs
had often sung to him. Bonne-maman coughed
and fidgeted and shivered; Mdlle. Berthe bravely
sang on, sometimes fiat, sometimes sharp,
finishing at last on note that Jared every
nerve and fiber.
Horace was profuse In thanks, and l, too,
thanked her. and added Immediately: "Shail l
sing you little English ballad?" BOnne-maman
interrupted me to order the lamp, but I ma
liciOusly remarked that would sing a twilight
song first. / could not resist my anticipated
triumph. Straight from my heart the words
rang out, In the Gloaming," and, vibrating
strangely through the dusk, came the farewell
to my love, mine no longer: "Best for you and
best for me-"
must have sung better than usual from the
deep silence paid as tribute to my talent, and
under cover Of the darkness I rose and, stealing
silently to the door, sought the friendly night
wherein to hide my sorrow. Perrine met me
with the lamp, and, leaving the hateful light
and the happy circle, turned away to the gar
den.
w.
Hurriedly went past the clipped yeW heflre