The Arkansaw traveler., 1884-09-20

having made name and a forfznn 61s now director of shaaases f1S - - o ef past friendship he x1<n1 rG k4ps fYy Geores6ls. Bst thds-skeS Fl?
 "1tsa bad iife Georgeste," be said, sterniy and p.fernAlly. I dont feel that l ought to help you uith this 6ei1nee idea Won't you think betf1 c n Try dresses, my child, If bonnefs 1so dult; ny anything rather than n thesixe" Then, shylys the bachG1or added. " The lie is not Glaed for su<h = you, Georgette-"
 @h has temptations, | knew,s cid Georgetse simply, "but % has any life here in Paris, and my mother brouaht me up to take care of myself An she vas good, and if could crush the wish 1 would."
 Georgeste got round M. Michaud, of course, and when he let out that he lnow M. Roche it was all over with him. The gin calmed down when he promised to hunt out the director, and putting her small hand into his, spoke earnestly: How shall ever repay your kind- ness?"
 "Tut, tut" he answered. But tell me, Whob WdS yOoh ioAuCI uRCs oo you remember him?' He was thinking that she could not have inherited her face and her character from common place, honest Madame Joliet.
 My father-oh, DO he was painter. He died of failure. Yes, believe failure in everything killed him."
 CHAPTER II.
 Ma foi, Michauds No offense meant, but really fancied you were buried years ago! It's like seeing my grandfather walk out of his grave. As to the girl you speak of, we have a dozen every week of such prodieies; they crop up like mushrooms know their tales by heart now they seel a vocation for the stage-have been complimented by everybody, etc. used to believe them when l first began, but now my answer is, am sure you would be prima donna, mademoiselle, but we are full"
 "l am really delighted to hear you say this," said M. Michaud. "It's a bad life for young girl like Mile Georgettc no friends, you know, and nothing but this fancy"
 Fancy-that's 1t, nothing more but look here, Michaud-our old friendship. Take this little play, and when your genius has learned the principal part bring her to me. There's a rehearsal of 1t in week; the actress of this part will ee away, and your girl shall i'll up the gap. There-now about yourself"
 They plunged into old stories, but NJ. Michaud was not communicative about himself. He went away carrying Georgette's book as if he were loaded with an evil talisman that would work only harm.
 How am to keep an eye on her if she goes there" he thought sadly. @Why did fate throw her in my path? Sapresti!"
 That night Georgette, who possessed small room of her own, might have been heard pacing up and down like a caged animal. She learned that little paper book through, rehearsing it till her brain felt giddy and every pulse beat furiously. What did it matter? By morning she knew it perfectly, and she went of to Madame Bertine, and worked away hap oily, even though her eyes and head ached. Would the week never pass when she could tell madame that she would make no more bonnets? But if she failed! Why then it would be bon nets for the rest of her life. Duel SUD- plice!
 The day came. Georgette was ready long before NJ. Michaud appeared to &C., company her. She walked more like Marie Antoinette going to execution than ever, and fss. like her too. The dream of her life huno on this trial
 But Georgette had never imagined what the reality of this ordeal would be like. The dark theatre, not built to ad- init pure daylight, the great desolate house, and those rows and rows of empty sea,s-;errible in their emptiness, making one feel that myriad of invisible beings were seated there listening. jeering, and crticising. ready at the first trip to hiss you of the stage. Then the gloomy stage itself, and the real flesh and blood actors barely visible. But now was heard the promp.er's voice, from his mole like hole, rapping the boards with his wand.
 "Allons."
 Suddenly to Georgeste it was no longer dark, the ghosts became clothed in ordi- nary attire, the actors, shadowy though they might be, were not actors, but living lords and ladies. And she was not Ceosgette Juliet, but another woman with simple, sad, pathetic history . history which would, if people understood it, make them cry from sympathy, and the stage was the world, the world in which the heroine had to live and to suffer.
 Georgette walked iato the directors private room after the play as if she were in dream. She did not notice M. Mi chaud seated in corner she only saw Nj. Roche, whom she had not beheld be- fore, having been ignorant of his pres ence in one of the boxes. He came for ward and patted her on the shoulder.
 /" Not bad, my child 1; never done any thing of this kind before. Nobody | would hear you, you know, beyond the l first four rows, and you were all over the | stage-bu. still, practice and hard work 1 may cure that. Would you like to join us! Very little to earn at first, for we shall have all the trouble oftsaining you. | Think the oue<tion well ovey,