Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1888-03-31

out: he turned to his work, saying half aloud as
he bent TO touch v1h his own the smiling lips Of
"My part has been wen played. Beatrice trusts
ms bltndly stii; and now one kiss from those bean.
his he'd dark shadow lifted away nom the hall.
open door and vanished in the gloomy gallery BE-
Never had the opera house been 90 full as now;
gallery AFTER gallery filled, and still the crowd
poured ID, Ior the fame OF the lovely singer had
TO wonder and admire.
The purple curtains were undrawn in the box
t1s IF s591a
and watched with a strange interest ali that
passed before him. He turned often from the gay,
ward that still dark curtain, behind which sat the
woman ne mad so wronged and deceived. All her
fond, tender words and loving acts OF kindness
ing love had never seemed so beautifuf as now,
when ne had lost an right to seek or claim IL for
that night ne mad vowed 10 fly with her fair rival
and II was now too late to sigh and sorrow for the
true heart he had cast away
the curtain rose, and the rustling crowd were
wnite-robed priestess glided in among her vestals
with the sacred oak leaves In her hand: never had
theresa looked so beautiful as now for love, am
oltlon, JOY ana triumph lent a radiant beauty 10
her face statelier grace 10 her fair form, and a
deeper, richer music to her magical voice, which
ecnoed with strange, sweet melody through the
vast mouse, ana seemed to grow more fresh and
oeautlIu as she poured forth in music, all the
sorrow, Jealousy and love OF the unhappy Norma,
wnon she personated with such tenderness and
The painter still fingered In the shadow, but his
eyes no longer rested on the lonely box they never
her sorrow and despair seemed but to sing for him
alone, her eye turned often to meet his with a
glance OF love and pride that seemed to say "All
Gnis 40 Ior your dear sake, and all my triumph
win share with you.n The memory OF Beatrice
had vanished like dream beneath the spell of
sucn an hour, and an was now forgotten but love
meanwhile, behind the dropping curtains OF the
pLiua uonnaS Oox sat one who could have acted
, N0,n'a, Ihe deceived deserted woman with a
truth and power that would have thrilled the
hearts that beat so quick now. Beatrice sat In the
purple shadow like marble statue, pale, STILL and
cold, her hands clasped tightly on her breast and
where through a narrow opening It could be seen,
whle Defore her lay the fose-crOwn she mad woven
Tor her nval; and so amid the music, light, and
bursts OF JOYFUL applause, she sat unn1oyed, and
never turned her steadfast gaze from the face that
iooked with such fond passion and delight upon
tne nappy singer, who was acting Just below her
felt.
At length the opera ended. the priestess' doom
was spoken, the fatal veil was folded around her,
and with her wild, sad farewell lingering the air
she was borne away and ali was over; but soon,
SpeN-Uound by her power, she reappeared, no
longer pale and Sorrow-stricken, but radiant with
smiles and bright in youthful JOY and loveliness,
as with folded hands she bowed before the admir-
ing throng, who carpeted her path with flowers
and vented their delight in joyful cries and echo
ing applause.
suddenly there was pause. and deep stiffness
Ieli on the excited multitude as every eye turned
from the lovely singer TO fairer, stranger sight.
Inc curtains We're thrown wide apart and the
stately form OF Beatrice stood proudly FORTH gilt
tering with a strange magni1cence; jewels
sparkeled on her velvet robe and ShOne like stars
IN ner dark hair; deep changing color glowed
upon her cheek, and wild brilliance flashed in
neI dark eyes as they glanced rapidly about the
upt4rned faces looking into hers.
LOOK up, look up, Theresa, and receive the
and lifting her wondering eyes, the lovely singer
shuddered as She met the dark glance that flashed
upon ner from the haggard face OF the rival she
mad wronged. and in that glance each read the
Otner'S meaning; and while Theresa bowed her
1eao In shame and fear, Beatrice, with "a sudden
smue, raised her white arms high above her
head, ana stood moment gracefully holding a
mower crown, while her eye sought out some dis
tant OBJECT; then the garland feI, and high above
tne tunultuous applause that shook the walls
scared the death-shriek OF Theresa, and Beatrice
pointing TO her as she lay amid the flowers, with
the tron crown concealed among the roses on her
Dlood-stalned hair, cried in a voice that never
ceased TO echo in one guilty hearers ear: "You
babe me crown her, Claude; see, have done IL .
better TO die crushed Uith f1tcers. than live to be
what you have rendered me-" ana with avid, fear
ful laugh she vanished from the sight OF the hor-
ror-StricKen crowd.
Years passed away, and in a lonely convent lived
and died a sad, gray-haired man, worn and wasted
with reInorse: and in quiet home for the insane
dweit beautiful, pale woman, who constantly
wove garlandS and, like q swan, died singing
mournfuily, and these were BEATMCE and CLAUDE.