The Mineral argus., 1884-07-17
VERY FRENCHY.
A SKETCH BY ZORA.

ofthe most illustrated families of France,
and possessed a large fortune. Being
discontinued with the government, he
occupied himself in various ways; wrote
articles for the reviews, threw himself
into business, and became enthusiastic
in agriculture and the fine arts.
The countess is forty-six, yet the
loveliest blonde of Paris. Never has
she looked handsomer. Age seems to
purify her complexion. In ripening,
she has the roundness of fine fruit.
When she enters a parlor she appears
like a rising star, and women of twenty
are jealous of her.
Nothing can be said of the household
of the count and countess since their
marriage. 1t is even said they lived to-
gether happily for six years. In this
time they had a son, Roger, who is
Lieutenant; and a daughter, Blanche,
whom they married off last year. In
later years they lived in separate quar-
ters, yet remaining good friends, with
great ~self-control, often consulting to-
gether, and all right before the world.
One night the countess returned from
a ball about 2 o'clock in the morning.
The waiting maid, after undressing her,
says: "The count is indisposed this
evening""
The countess. half asleep, turns her
head lazily. "Ah!" murmurs she,
yawning, and adds: awake me to-
morrow at 10; Igo to the dressmaker."
The next day at breakfast as the
count does not appear, she makes some
inquiries, and afterward decides to go
to his room. She finds him in bed very
pale but very dignifed. Three doctors
have already been there and talked in a
low tone; they left prescriptions, and
will return at night. The count is cared
for by two servants, who are grave and
quiet, sitting the noise of their heels on
the carpet. The great chamber gives
you the idea of a cold severity. No linen
is disturbed, no furniture deranged.
Thisis a malady proper and ceremonious.
'You suffer, then my friend ?" asks
the countess, as she enters.
The count makes an effort to smile.
ooh a little fatigue" replied he 81
only require rest. I thank you for dis
turbing yourself"
Two days pass. The remains
stately. Everything is in it's place;
the drugs disappear without spotting
the furniture. The shaved faces of the
domestics are decent; they do not per-
NIT themselves to express sentiments of
unrest. However, the count knows
that he is in danger. He has requested
the truth from the physicians, and he
leaves them to act without a complaint.
He remains most of the time with
closed eyes, or looks fxedly as though
he reflected his solitude.
In society the countess says her hus-
band is suffering. She has not changed
her manner of living, eats and sleeps
and walks at her usual hours. Every
morning, noon, and night she goes her.
self to ask the count how he is.
"Well, are you better, my friepd?"
eyes, much better; thank you, my
dear Mathilde."
"If you desire it L will remain near
you"
"No, it is unnecessary. Julius and
Francis are sufficient. And what good
would it do to fatigue yourself?"
Between them is an understanding;
they have lived apart and will die apart.
The count has had the bitter enjoyment
80 1nufpf,as 10 lance Ale xr1r11 v.A11-4
having round his bed the annoyance of
a comedy of grief. He cuts short as
much as possible, for himself and the
countess, the private interview. His
last wish is to disappear properly, as a
man of the world, without disturbing
any one.
One evening he can hardly breathe;
he knows he will not live through the
night. When the countess comes to
make her accustomed visit, he a Y to
her, forcing a smile:
"Do not go out; l do not feel we'll"
He would guard her from the tattle
of the world. She installs herself in
the room. The doctors do not leave.
Two of the servants finish their duties
with impressive silence. They have
sent for their children, Roger and
Blanche who keep neal the bed by the
side of their mother. The night passes
in this way. In the morning the last
sacrament is brought, and the count
takes it before them all, so as to pat
ronize religion. The ceremonial is over
and now he is ready.
But he does not hasten; he seems to
recover his strength, in order to avoid
q clamorous end. His breathing, in the
vast, severe apartment, gives the brok-
en- noise of a clock which is out of order.
He Is a we'll bred man who is departing.