The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1886-01-22


loud whisper to her neighbor, Captain
Curzon, staring contemptGously through
her jewelled pifce-nez at her rivals deli
cate Costume of Indian muslin high up TO
the throat with its cascade Of cretonne
lace and shell-pink ribbons.
Cutbert Neven started and glanced at
the speaker.
Lorita Leonardo was a fine dark woman
"A red and white beauty, with full face,
and figure inclining to emboHp0int Just
such as Reubens put into his pictures,
lips like pouting poppy-leaves, hair black
as night, eyes as dark as it is possible for
eyes to be that are only brown. A bad,
sensual face. at once revolving and at
tractive.
"Are Won one Of Lorita's admirersY'
asked Curzon, as they sat over wine and
cigars, when the ladies had quilted the
room.
mo, there's too much of her"
Cant you have too much of good
thingH"
Query. You say she is fine creature
so is tigress"
"But doesn't she dress well7'
That's decidedly an open question in
her case. She leaves nothing TO the
imagination"
..Come now, you are too hard on her"
''Better than being too soft, which
wouldn't pay"
''what do you say to Fleur de Marief"
"Nice-looking little thing, as blondes
60" replied Newen, leisurely slipping his
claret.
"Nice-looking, indeed. What a critical
chap YOU are. Why, she's pearl"
"Hush, they are singing. Let's join
them. It is worth hearing"
They fingered at the open door TO listen.
Newen loved music as part Of that pas
| sion for the beautiful which possessed
/ him.
A few simple chords struck by fingers
Gas fair as the lilies" and then it broke
forth. as if impatient Of control, that voice
which flooded the room with melody and
arrested even the steps Of the passers-hy
on the pavement outside, who stopped
spell bound by the window.
The one most keenly alive to the power
and purity of that voice experienced a
sense of relief when It was silent. 1t was
indeed a novel sensation for him, the
base world-weary man. to feel his heart
throbbing in such tumult Of mingled
pleasure and pain.
She had chosen that pretty simple old
ballad. which all English girls know so
well, ..On the banks Of Allan water"
The clear, beI-like tones fell on the air
like drops of some divine essence of
sound. At the close Of the song no one
applauded. no one thought of pr-aising the
singer. and so far from calling for an en-
core. nearly all those present felt that one
l hat or
about as much as they could bear, and
already several heads had turned aside
Fleur de Marie rose from the piano
and quietly bowling to the assembled
conpanv, floated down the room, her del
jcate drareTies floating after her as she
went.
Her companion followed, bidding good
night right and left.
The !, I,eopar,ii. who had been lying bacl
in the depths OF divan, listening witt
baIf-cIosed eyes, now looked up over tn
top of her black satin fan, ani showed a.
her brilliant white teeth as she said:
WAS there ever so sad song mus
own that, for my part, like to leave
smile with my audience, and not a tear.
So saying she moved towards the piano
She was determined to dispel the effec
produced Dy HeI TlNdl5 SOiiS . 0's 49,
couple Of crashing chords and laugh
she threw back her head and dashed IN
to wild Jaeobite ballad, entering fuLl
into the spirit which breathes throug
every word.
Her voice was too perfect TO fall shol
Of its aim A burst of applause ran
through the room as the singer pause'
flushed. triumphant, and breathless. Thel
almost before the excitement which sh
caused subsided, she broke forth agal
into that inimitable piece Of musical mt
tiny. La Marseillaise,"
: The listeners rose to their feet an
, rushed towards the piano, with one a.
cord elapping their hands. Outside
the pavement. the crowd that had gait
: cred in the moonlight shouted loud hu
. rahs and called for encores. But Lor1t
though she laughed, well pleased, plea
ed fatigue.
Fleur de Marie and her snd-sweet bea1
tiful ballad, were, for the moment, forgo
ten After all, the world has an APP
heart and it Hketh better to laugh thi
10 weep.
= Come. now, must own that's more
: my taste" said Curzon. his dsboHair fa
once more bright and smiling. "The17
= trojiIJle enough in this world witho
. singing dirges."
= ITO be COntiHued.l