San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-12-14


A whisper among the walters, a slight
stir at the table. AMI she had swept into
the vacant chair near the window which
had been reserved for her.
Newen took his seat, and after CHANGING
down the manu. raised his eyes for leis-
urely survey Of those present.
This was Fleur lie Marie. He looked at
her between the barrier II twisted silver
branchcS rarlanded with flowers; looked.
and look Il q. gain, till at last she felt the
intensity Of his quiet scrutiny. rand, flush
ing slightly raised her eyes ssh met his
gaze. What she saw there made the
color deepen in her cheek as she turned
to speak to her neighbor. And Cuthbert
Newen drew a deep breath as he leaned
back in his chair, and let his plate pass
untasted.
He noted. with the keen observation Of
a lover Of women, each excellent item OF
her beauty-her soft, full, flpxen hair,
gathered into a gold-silk net like q mesh
of sunbeams; her large. dreamy eyes,
blue and bright as sapphire gems, her
red, small mouth. her slim. snow white
throat, circled with triple twisted thread
Of shining pearls
al suppose that's what's called sweet
simplicity" sneered the Leopard in a
loud whisper to her neighb2r, Captain
Curzon, staring contemptuously through
her jewelled pincc-Re, at her rivals deli
cate costume of Indian muslin high up to
the throat with its cascade Of cRtonne
lace and shell-pink ribbons.
Cutbert Newen started and glanced at
the speaker
Lorita Leopard was a fine dark woman
"A red and white beauty, with full face,
and figure inclining to embonp0int, 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 you one of Lorita's adBircrsr
asked Curzon, as they sat over wine and
cigars, when the ladies had quilted the
room.
"No, there's too much of her"
Cant you have too much of good
thingH"
"Query. You say she is fine cresture
so is tigress."
"But doesn't she dress wellf"
THAT'S decidedly an open question in
her case. She leaves nothing to the
imagination"
Come now, you are too hard on hen"
Better than being too soft, which
wouldn't pay"
What do you say to Fleur de Marier
"Nice looking little thing, as blondes
GO" replied Newen, leisurely slipping his
claret.
mice looking, indeed What critical
chap you are. Why, she's a pearl!'
Hush, they are singing. Let's join
them. 1t is worth hearing"
They fingered at the open door to listen.
Newen loved music as paps Of that pas
sion for the beautiful which possessed
him.
A few simple chords struck by fingers
"as 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-by
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
sense of relief when it was silent. 1t was
indeed novel sensation for him, the
base, world-weary man. to feel his heart
throbbing in such a tumult Of mingled
pleasure and pain.
She had chosen that pretty simple old
ballad, which all English girls know so
well, s.On the banks Of Allan water"
The clear, bell-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 praising the
singer, and so Far from calling for an en-
core, nearly all those present felt that one
ballad sung by that one voice was just
about as much as they could beaf, and
already several heads had turned aside.
Fleur de Marie rose from the piano,
and quietly bowling to the assembled
company, foated down the room, her del
icate draperies floating after her as she
went.
Her companion followed, bidding good
night" right and left.
The Leopard, who had been lying back
in the depths Of divan, listening with
half-closed eyes, now looked up over the
top of her black satin fan, and showed all
her brilliant white teeth as she said:
"Was there ever so sad a songl must
own that, for my part, like to leave
smile with my audience, and not tear
So saying she moved towards the piano.
She was determined to dispel the effect
produced by her rivals song; 30, with q
couple Of crashing chords and laugh,
she threw back her head and dashed in
to wild Jacobite ballad, entering fully
into the spirit which breathes through
every word.
Her voice was too perfect to fall short
Of its aim. A burst of applause rang
through the room as the singer paused,
flushed, triumphant, and breathless. Then,
almost before the excitement which she
caused subsidized, she broke forth again
into that inimitable piece Of musical mu-
tiny. ia Marseillsiser
The listeners rose to their feet and
rushed towards the piano, with one ac-
cord clapping their hands. Outside, on
the pavement. the crowd that had gath
cred in the moonlight shouted load hur-
rahs and called for encores. But Lorita,
though she laughed, well pleased, plead
ed fatigue.
Fleur de Marie and her sad sweet beau
tiful ballad, were, for the moment, forgot
ten. After all, the world has an April
heart, and it liketh better to laugh than