Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1882-03-04
Notwithstanding his

opposite mirror. Notwithstanding his
knowledge of his metamorphosis, or, to
speak more correctly, his trsnsposition, it
was at first impossible for him to realize
that his personnel, so different from his
own, was actually the reflection of his
present self, and he could rot turn his eyes
away from the unfamiliar countenance.
He looked at himself and saw another.
Involnntarily he turned to see if the Count
Olaf was not standing near his also with
his elbow on the mantel; but no, he was
alone the Doctor Cherbonneau had kept
his promise faithfully.
/ But Octave did not long occupy himself
with the miraculous GrGtGr by which he
had changed identity with PIascovie's hus-
band his thoughts were absorbed in the
situation in which he now found himself.
| This uncomfortable event, beyond ali posi-
| bilty, of which in the widest delirium he
could never have dreamed, had actually
! taken place. He would once more find
/ himself in the presence of Plascovie, and
| this time he would not be repulsed.
! The entrance of the maid interrupted
this tumult OF thought. AS she drew near
he could not control a nervous start, and
all the blood rushed to his heart as she
said
Madame la Comtesse is expecting Mon
sieur."
Following her, he entered large dress
ing room, most luxuriantly and exquisisely
appointed. Near the window, ths curtains
of which fell in heavy folds, stood toilet
a Ia dUcheSSe, the mirror of which was up
held by two cherubs, exquisitely sculptured
by Mademoiselle de Fauveau, aud lighted
by large candelabra. Before this was seat
ed the Countess Lsbinska, radiantly lovely
Over white peignoir was thrown bur.
nous OF blue and white, which had partially
slipped from her shoulders, disclosing the
white, beautifully turned throat. Her
golden hair, silky and abundant. fell IN
glistering waves, envelopiDg her like the
mantle of an empress. Two maids were
brushing ard braiding it, while the Count
ess was dancing on one tiny foot little
embroidered baoouche; and occasionally
throwing back the silky folds of the bur-
nous, she pushed aside from her face the
long tresses of hair with an impatient
movement full of a charming grace,
For moment Octave stood spellbound
at the sight. He could not speak he
could hardly breathe. 1t was as if he
looked on the beauty of Medusa. Then,
summoning all his courage and self.control,
and saying to himself that this was not the
manner of husband, however deeply. in
love with his wife, he walked toward the
Countess.
"Ah Olaf, at last. How very late you
are tonight" she said, without turning,
for her head was held in position by the
long tresses which the two women were
braiding, and, disengagiug her hand from
the folds of the burnous, she laid it in his.
Selling this lovely, soft white hand, ne
pressed it to- his lips with a long, burning
kiss. His whole soul seemed concentrated
on that one little spot.
Who can tell what exquisite instinct,
what delicate, subtle consciousness, what
divine intuition warned the Countess? The
soft color rose to her face-the same rosy
tint which battles the mountain peaks when
the virgin snow is surprised by the suns
first kiss. She started, and slowly with
drew her hand, half vexed, half ashamed.
Octave's lips were like red-hot iron or her
little cool hand In a moment, however,
she became herself, smiling at her childish
ness.
'You do rot answer me, dear Olaf do
you realize that l have not seen you for
more than six hours?' she said in re-
proachful tone. "Once you would not
have remained long evening away from
me- Have you been thinking of me all this
time?"
Always of you?' answered Octave
Labinski.
"No, not always; l know quite well
when you are thinking of me, no matter
how far away you may be. Tits evening.
for instance l was at my piano playing
moroccan from Weber TO pass the hours that
hang so heavily felt your soul lowering
over me, while [ struck the notes, then
suddenly, it took fight while was sound
ing the last chords, aud did not return.
Do not deny it. l know what am say
ing"
And Plascovie was right; this was the
moment when Olaf was bending over the
vase of magic water, evoking her image
with all the force OF fixed idea. From
that time forward the Count had been sub
merged in the fathomless depths of mag
netic sleep and had no longer ideas, feeling
or yolition.
The maids had left the room. Octave
still stood with his eyes fixed on the
Countess, who, disturbed and uneasy, she
knew not why, sat with her burnous
wrapped closely about her, her beautiful
head appearing from above the voiuminous
folds.
Although no human penetration could
divine the mysterious displacement of
souls, Plascovie sought in vain, in the eyes
of Octave Labinski the pure, true, earn
est, unvarying affection which she had al
ways recognized in the eyes Of her husband.
She read instead the expression of q very
earthly passion which dispieased her. She
could not have explained the sensation,
even to herself, but some change had taken
place. A thousand strange ideas flashed
across her mind Was she indeed no
longer fascinated by Olaf? Was the per-
feet harmony of souls, which had always
heretofore existed, now destroyed by some
unknown mysterious discord Had the
corruptions of Paris changed her husband
All these questions she asked herself with
out being able to give any satisfactory an
swer-saying at the same moment that she
was beside herself, and yet convinced that
she was right. She was terrified, as if in
the presence of some unknown danger
OWNED by the souls second sight, the
guidance of which we should never resist.
Agitated and nervous, she rose, and,
with the arm of the false Count about her
Wdisp, ilUNCu tOW iiiC luuCl
but, on reaching the threshold, she turned,
stood for a moment motionless, white and
cold as marble, then, with quick,
frightened glance at the young man, she
entered the room, closing the door sud-
denly, and pushed the bolt.
sit was Octave's expression, " she thought,
as she sank half fainting into chair. As
she became more calm she said to herself
'But how is it possible that Octave's
expression, which have never forgotten,
should appear in my husbands eyes How
can have seen that dark despairing CLEAN
flashing across his dark pupils? Is Octave
desd? Was it his soul burning for one
deeting moment before me, as if to bid me
farewell forever? Olaf Olaf if am mis-
taken if l have yielded to foolish terrors,
you must forgive me, for feel that you
are not Olaf tonight; you are another !
person"
Trying the bolt, to be sure it was secure,
she crept into bed like frightened child.
Distressed and restless, she did not sleep |
till dawn, and then was disturbed by |
strange. disconnected dreams.
Who shall describe the feelings of Octave |
ha stood hafora {ha oIoSad door ,rd |