The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-01-17

OL dIlS SQILOunOG0 utxl tA V6Aus n change was coming over him, without his being aware of 1t. Mechanically, he reasceuded the avenue, gained the Boule- yard des Batignolles, and, arrived at the Barriere de Clichy, entered Pere ViYgile's restaurant. There was some mysterious impulse which this man obeyed, without understanding it.
 Once in the restaurant, he ordered the same dishes. as on the evening of the crime. Alter the dinner he went to the St. Lazare depot and took the train Half an hour later he alighted at RueiL Always mechanically, unconsciously, as if impelled by an unknown will, he roamed about the house where the crime took place. A modest property of the Parisian suburbs, small and unassuming, with bit of garden no larger than a mans hand, it seemed to Bernardin gloomly and sinister. It was no longer a house :; it was the house.
 The temples of tho unhappy man throbbed violently; high fever stirred all his blood. He continued to pass and repass the grating, wishing to look in, and yet not daring to do so. At the end of an hour he drew himself from his con- 1 temptation, and walked toward the Rueil bridge.
 It was superb June night; delicious languor filled the air ;-one of those nights when lovers, arm -in-arm, dream as they sadn<er under the thick foliage The waters of the stream flowed joyously, rehecting an exquisite sky. Bernardin, leaning on the rail of the bridge, felt his terrors increase. A horrible hallucina- ton haunted hin. He saw neither the splendors of the night nor the beauties of the stream. It seemed to him that the waters parted and corpse arose, showing its livid face. The unhappy man could no longer hold himself erect. His teeth chattered; he was afraia-he was terribly afraid. A supreme energy was necessary to collect his strength; he fled like a madman, without turning his head.
 At midnight the poor man re-entered his house, went to bed and slept heavily, as on the preceding night. Again the nightmare came to haunt him. He dreamed the crime during his sleep as he had lived it during the evening. He did the same on the next evening and on the following night and every evening, in whatever part of Paris he found himself, he recommended this horrible routine. He went to Pere Virgile's took the train, descended at Rueil, rambled about the house, and when he leaned on the rail ot the bridge the Seine opened itself to offer him the body of his victim. Finally, in the night he dreamed the crime, after having lived it during the entire evening. Men had been able to acquii him hi, T0nGC1AnrA did ... its most cruel form; remorse haunting a brain, without intermission or rest.
 Akind of mental disarticulation divided the mind of the poor mln into two parts To punish him for the crime for which men had not punished him, it made him live it over every evening and every nj ght. During the day he wandered about Paris like one demented. He tried to reason with himself, to prove that he was not guilty. But am innocent, since the jury has acquitted me-" No; he was guilty, since his conscience did not. A little light suffices to light up many shad- ows. A little remorse suffices to chastise the most obscure soul. And there the remorse was great, but unrecognized submitted tN, but not analysed. All the physical tortures he had inflicted on his victim he experienced in mental torments. He fought against the morbid fascination during the day, but when night fell it overcame him. This martyrdom lasted month, during which there had not passed one evening when the hideous promenade had not recommended there had not passed one night when the night mare had not been repeated over and over again.
 One day, in one of his lucid intervals, he saw clearly. It was necessary for him to kill his remorse, or it would wear him out. They must die together, or the one must triumph over the other. He wished either that this madness should become complete, or that his reason should be- come again supreme. And as he me chanically glanced through a paper he cried out for joy. The following lines under the heading of "Green-room Notes" ,"met his eye:
 To-day, at one o'clock, at the Fantasies Parisiennes theatre, a reading, for artists, of The Rueil Crime, drama in four acts.
 Bernardin jumped up. His evenings and his nights were haunted, while his days were peaceful. We'll. he would find the means to wear out his crime. He woAld rid his brain of it by seeing it acted before his eyes.
 An hour later, Bernardin arrived at the Fantaisie- Parisiennes. The manager, the celebrated Chesnel, was on the verge of bankruptcy. He no longer knew which way to turn. At that moment he was saying to his partner:
 "On my honor, begin to doubt French art. put on vaudevilles which the public has already applauded twenty times, and find that it no longer wants them. l produce spectacles, bringing the transformations from London, and the public does not want them, either. Well, l shall try something new; shall have drama from real life. The "Rueil Crime" is not all literary, but it will bring money"
 He had scarcely ceased speaking when the call boy entered and announced M. Bernardin Morel.
 Bernardin Morel. Who is Bernardin MorelT"
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