The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-10-14
MONSIEUR ALBANG.

|
from thinking was one size or more tot
big for him. A little old man with saC
eyes, but with a pleasant voice, and /;
smile that often quite banished all trace
of melancholy from his face.
But Wilhelm-the head-waiter at the
dingy old Paris restaurant, where fcl
months he had presented himself at the
same hour daily-had taken to him from
the very first, and as the gentleman
seemed to court retirement, used In
variably to ensconce him in the snug
gest corner of the room, not far from the
charcoal stove-the time was winter
and with no other companions save q
pair of tabby cats.
4What is it to-day?" NJ Albano would
! inquire, as he seated himself at his table,
with his feet on morsel of goat-skin
placed there for them. what is it to-
day, Wilhelm?"
And Wilhelm used invariably to place
white dimpled fore-fnger against the
name of some particular dish on the
| card, and that was the dish III. Albano
invariably chose.
1t was not long before Wilhelm found
out that III. Albano was, like himself, a
Hungarian, and, like himself, an exile.
They were friends, indeed, after this.
Wilhelm told the little old man his
story, and to some extent the little old
man told Wilhelm his. There was some
difference, nevertheless, in their stations
in life, for in his own dear land NJ. AL
bano had been count, while Wilhelm
had been but a junior engineer.
"And so you are really going?" said
Wilhelm, as he stood one day near his
friend, the empty soup-bowl in his right
hand.
Really going, Wilhelm"
"Oh, dear! Monsieur, shall sadly miss
you. Is it Brussels, monsieur, Berlin,
or Moscow? You say you have had en-
gagements at all these places.
"No, no, replied III. Albano sadly; @it
is neither of these places. am done
with them all-done with the world, /
might say. am going home"
WHAT" cried Wilhelm, with bright
ening eyes-"home to our dear land of
-"
"Nay, nay, nay; never there again.
What matters imperial forgiveness? Can
king mend a broken heart, even if he
could restore my fortunes? Could l gaze
without gsief on those green-wooded
hills and valleys that once were mine?
Could ningle with the good people who
dwell there-and who once called me
lord-without sadness? No, Wilhelm,
no. My home is near London, the home
of the refugee, the only city in the whole
world amid the hustle and stir of which
an exile may WOO forgetfulness.
Wilhelm fingered by the table for a
few moments. He was deep in thought
IN. Albano," he said at last, "to have
employment in London has long been
with me an ambitious dream-a castle in
the air-call it what you will. hate
the garb of servility in which you now
see me. Oil there are times, monsieur,
that walk my room all night, wild in
thought, because I feel 1 was born for
better things. Yet 1 try to do my duty
my humble duty"
"Yes, yes, yes, said AIbano, speaking
more briskly than was his wont. THAT
is right-do your duty. | trust l do
mine, humble though that is. Do not
let pride interfere with that duty. Be
not self-conscious. Concentrate your
thoughts and energies in your work,
menial though some may call it. Be
lieve me, Wilhelm, halo surrounds the
head of that man or woman who does
whatever his or her hand findeth to do,
in no half f-hearted way, but with a will,
a purpose, and an honest pride of action,
feeling inwardly that duty is sacred
thing. Study to be content with the
state in which Providence has placed
you, Wilhelm. Study that-study that.
"But, monsieur, you would then leave
ambition out of count
"No; oh, mol Only let your ambition
be subservient to your duty. The march
of intellect-the march of the worlds
ever, ever onward. Better yourself, by
all means, if you can: by SO doing you
may better the world; but ambitious
thoughts or actions must never interfere
with your hours of labor. These belong
to your present employer, Wilhelm"
Il see, monsieur"
"WelI, see and think of it. Meanwhile,
here is a pass for the Grand M con-
cert. You will see me and my little
violin in the second row of the orchestra.
You will wait for me, and we will sup
together at the Rhondeville.
High over a score of fiddlers at the
grand concert that evening, NJ. Albano's
little violin seemed to ring-seemed, at
all events-in Wilhelm's ears, just as one
hears and can listen only to the nightin-
gales voice amidst the babel of bird
voices in the woods in early spring.
After the performance, Wilhelm waited
for what appeared quite long time for
his friend. All the other musicians had
dressed and fled away, but still he came
not,
Wilhelm ventured at last to ask one in
authority.
"Oh, mol" was the reply; IN. Albano
has not gone. He is talking to the man.
ager. The manager wants him to stay
on. but he insists on throwing up his en-
gagement."
"StrangeI" said Wilhelm.
"Yes, it is strange. You are his friend?
Yes. Well, and even you do not seem
able to fathom the mystery. But this Al
bano is splendid violinist. Any orches-
ira in Europe would be willing to retain
his services, and remuneTate him well.
Yet, although he is not rich, he is for
ever on the move. Italy, Belgium, Nor
way, all nave SNAAS,
but none for long. Think you is your
friend somewhat distraitf"
81 am sure he is not. I only know he
has a reason or reasons for his nomadic
tendencies, but he has not thought fit to
enlighten me as to what they are, and it
would III become me to inquire. But
here he comes"
1t was late even for Paris that night
ere Wilhelm bade his kind=hearted
friend adieu, at the corner OF
The Rue de la D., and hurried away to
MS dingy room,
Yet that evening had been big with
WIIhelm's fate. He had supped with
Il. Albano at a charming little hotel;
and, with true politeness, monsieur had
said little or nothing about himself, but
lad led the young man to speak of all
his hopes and ambitions,
Wilhelm's great scheme was connected
with electricity, not only fo< the purpose
Of lighting cities and country houses,
but as the moving power of the future;
and NJ. Albano knew enough about
chemistry speedily to discern that. if