The Warner weekly sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1885, 1883-11-24
WO0ING BY PROXY.

She is leaning back in a deep crimson
chair, with a white dress s~weening in
-ong, shining folds about her. She is
talking to two or three men with that
rather weary grace be has grown accus-
toned 10 see in her, and which is so
different from the joyous smiles Of the
Jeanne de Beaujen whom he knew so
long ago. He is watching her from the
opposite side ofthe salon, as he stands
beside his hostess, and he tells himself
that it is for the last time. He is going
TO her presently, and he knows Just how
coIdly she will raise the dark eyes that
once never met his without having CON
fessed that she loved him. He knows
Just what he viii say and what ste will
viii answer, and there is no need for
haste in this last scene of his tragedy.
a man should know when he is
beaten" he is thinking, while he smiles
vaguely ia reply to Nine. de Soule's
commnn-plaees. There is more stupid
fly than courage in not accepting a de-
feAt Ehiie there is yet time to retreat
with some dignity. For six weeks I
have shown her, with a directness that
has, / dare say, been amusing to our mu-
tual friends. that after ten years abb
sence my only object in returning TO
Paris is her society. she can
not avoid meeting me in public, but she
has steadily refused to receive me when
] call npon her, or 20 permit me q word
with her alone. / have been a fool to
G0rget that all these years IN which / re-
GREETED her she naturally despised me,
Init at least ii is not just other to refuse
me q hearing" The moment he had
been waiting for is come, the little
court about her disperses, until there is
b IT one mar beside her, and she glances
around with a look of mild appeal
against the continuance of his society.
De PallsAer has escaped from his
hostess In an instant, aud the next he is
mUrmuring, with the faintest suspicion
Oi a tremor in his voice, "Will Nine.
Mframon permit me a dancer"
Thanks, M. de Palissier, but | am
not dancing this, evening" she replies,
with exactly the glance and tone he ex-
poets.
viii madame give me a few mo-
nlents serious conversation" and this
time the tremor is distinct. for even the
~nlnsteenth century horror OF melodra-
ma cannot keep Il mans nerves quite
s.eady when he is asking a question on
%hich his whole future depends.
One does not come to balls for seri-
0us conversation" she begins, lightly
Where may / come then?" he inter-
Fupted eagerly.
Nowhere. There il no need for Sc
rloue conversation between us, M. de
P~alissier," she replies, haughtilr, and
risilg she takes the arm of the much-ed-
fled gentleman beside her, and moves
away.
It is all as he prophesied to himself,
and yet for a mommet the lights swim
dizzily before him, and the passionate
sweetness Of that Strauss waltz the band
is playing stabs his heart like a knife.
For a moment he does not realize that
he is standing quite ~motionless, gazing
With despair in his eyes, after Nine. dc
Miramon's slender, white-clad figure,
and that two or three people, who have
seen and beard, are looking at him with
that amused pity which q sentimental
catastrophe always inspires In the spec
tators.
Some one touches his arm presently
with a fan, and Nth q start he comes tx
himself and recognizes Lucille de Beau
jen, the young sister Of Nine. de Mira
mon, whom he remembers years ago o.
child, and with whom he had danceS
several times this winter.
And our waltz, moDsieurY" she asks
gayly. do not tell me you have forgot
ten it. That is evident enough, but yos
should not admit it"
.Mille pardons, mademoiselle," HI
mutters, hnrriedly.
81 am very coed tonight she says
putting her hand on his mechanical,
extended arm. Though the waltz |
half over, there Is still time for you I
get me an ice"
So they make their way through Iii
saloon, she talking lightly and withor
pausing for 4 reply. while he, vaguel
grateful to her for extracting him fr,i