Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1888-01-04
q Serial Stnrp.
ROGER LAR0QUE.
ADAPTED AND TRANSLATED FROM TIE
FRENCH OF JULES MARY.
BY OLIVER HARPER.

FRENOH OF JULES Macy.
BY OLIVER HARPER.
Copyrighted by the American Press Association.
CHAPTER ].
At the corner Of the alley Of Montalais,
which descends to the lake, and at two steps
from the woods of the Vile d'Avray, some
fifteen years ago, behind its clematis vines
and other climbing plants, stood the prettiest
and most coquettish little country house
possible to imagine. The Villa Montalais, as
1t was called, had been bought few years
previous by II. Roger Laroque, a well known
mechanical engineer, whose workshops were
situated in St Maur street, and who had, be-
sides, an apartment on the Boulevard Males
herbes, at No III.
In the winter he inhabited his apartments,
und in summer be took refuge, with his wife
and daughter, at Vile d'Avray, but every
morning his business called him to Paris, to
his shops in st. Maur street, and there he
breakfasted, but returned in the evening at
about 2 o'clock to dinner, q habit OF life
quite ordinary with Parisians who, during the
summer, divide their existence in two parts,
the day for Paris, the night for the country.
On the evening which affords the COM
mencement Of our story, in July, 1872, at 8
o'clock, quite at variance with his usual
habit, Roger Laroque had not yet returned.
The dinner was waiting. In the parlor,
where two windows opened out upon the ter
race, and in the dining room there was no
one to be seen, and one would have declared
the house uninhabited, 50 calm and quiet 1t
seemed in the midst Of the silence Of the fad
ing light.
Still, at the left of the parlor, two voices
whispered. On that side was Mime. La
roque's sleeping apartment, even still deeper
plunged in the fast coming darkness. No
light burned, neither lamp nor candle. Two
voices, one superb, grave and sweet, Of such
timbre as would cause you to love the speaker
without even seeing her, and the other, in
fantine and crystal in its childish music.
They were the voices Of Nine. Henriette La
rogue and her little daughter, Suzanne. Nine.
Laroque drew an easy chair near the window,
which was partly open, and seated herself
there, drawing Suzanne close to her.
This evening they awaited the coming Of
Laroque with impatience, and the very cot
tage, with its profusion Of flowers and festal
appearance, seemed to be surprised at this
silence and solitude. It twas Suzanne's seventh
birthday, and she was the only child, little
spoiled by the alteration Of her father, and
now, since the day before, the mother was
trying to teach her q pretty little speech
which she was to make to her father upon his
return. They were pretty little words Of
Eel oyl fhaxyc cof
here in the darkness whispering them over
and over again, that they might not be for
gotten.
The half hour past struck, and Henriette
made a gesture Of surprise.
'sYour father will not dine at home this
evening. Come" said she; u do not wish you
to wait any longer"
They went into the dining room. Nine.
Laroque rang and ordered that dinner be
served. There were at the villa but three
servants-a coachman. a cook, and maid
whose name was Victoria and who had been
but two days in her service. The dinner was
q silent one, for in spite Of herself vague
sentiment OF fear oppressed the heart Of the
young wife. Two or three times before
Roger had been retarded, but he had always
telegraphed.
This evening, no news. Whya They re-
turned to the bedroom. Another hour
dragged by. Roger did not come. Henriette
sat distracted by the window, crouched in the
deep recesses Of the easy chair Victoria
wanted to bring lights, but she opposed. Ten
o'clock!
aAre you asleep, darlinga" asked Henriette.
aNo, mamma" answered the child, whose
eyes were wide open.
aDon't you want to 60 to beda"
"Oh, no; want to wait and kiss papa
when he comes"
Henriette, prey to anxiety, stepped out
on the balcony and leaned upon the rail, look
ing downward towards the road which Roger,
coming from the cars, habitually took.
Suzanne, standing beside her, looked also.
The night was very warm, without q cloud.
The Villa Montalais was separated from the
Vile d'Avray by gardens and trees. Oppo-
site it, in thS chestnut grove, q little to the
left, was a neat little house, with green
blinds, which stood directly on the street,
while the villa, on the contrary, was separated
from the street by lawn, constantly re-
freshed by little fountain. This cottage WIS
lighted, and the open windows showed room
furnished with mahogany, having table in
the middle and at the back a sort Of a secre-
tary desk, pushed up against the wall. At
this instant IL o'clock sounded, and Henriette
felt cold shiver Of apprehension run over
her, and she interlaced her hands with fear.
At this instant a man Of medium height
passed through the lighted room and seated
himself at the secretary, which he opened.
They could see him distinctly, and Henriette
and Suzanne looked at him. It was the oc-
cupant of that cottage, and his name was
Laronette.
GOur new neighbor has returned" said the
little girl
The man had taken from his cont pocket
book and had emptied and spread out before
him an immense sum of money in bank notes
and rolls Of gold pieces, apparently fortune,
which be began to arrange methodically,
counting and recounting with visible pleasure.
Henriette and Suzanne saw his profile only,
his back being turned towards the entrance
to his room. They heard the first quarter ring
on the church clock.
Henriette bent over her child and kissed
her forehead.
u will call Victoria to andress you and put
you in bed" said She
cannot be much longer"
"No, dear, it is very late. You will be
tired
And the young mother stepped aside and
touched the bell. Victoria not answering at
once, she rang again and returned to the
balcony. The moon shone pure in a serene
sky. Opposite, the neighbor with slow and
circumspect movement and avaricious enjoy
ment, counted his gold and notes. Victoria
came in.
aLight lamp and the night light" said
Henriette, land then come and take Suzanne.
At the same instant the little girl leaned
over the balcony clapping her hands, laugh
ing and calling:
"Papa, papa! We have been waiting for
you. did not 60 to sleep"
And man came up the street, a few
PAGES from there. He was tall, and wore a
light gray hat, and was dressed i'll light
gray redingote, with a cape over the
shoulders. At Suzanne's cry he slipped under
the shadow Of the chestnut trees before the
house, and Henriette, by stopping, had seen
him also
aRoger, Rogerl' called she, "why are you
so late! If YOU knew how uneasy we hava
been"
But the man, whether he heard or not,
answered nothing. He crept along now,
stopping under the trees from trunk to trunk,
getting always nearer Larouette's cottage.
All at once he had to pass clear space, and
tue moon shone full upon him again.
l.. <losx :,