The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1888-09-08

fully;
"Are you going back to your wife" sh'
sal.
"Who told your said I. not having voice
for more.
"The princess, think. The morning you
.ame into the studio and she was there"
| Iseldom entered Suzons house. One morn
| ing had gone to ask her about photograph
| ING a picture, | remembered, and Princes
Mathilde was there.
"NNhat did she sayf asked.
"Preciselyl She said what very hand
some man you were, and what sad story
yours was"
"Ahr | said stupidity.
"Where is your wiie" Suzon spoke with
careful civility. ~ suppose you will join her
in Rome"
my wife, mademoselle, is, or rather was,
in a maison de sante She suffers from In
durable homicidal mania"
~ beg your pardon" said my comrade
softly, and held out her hand to me.
/ took it as it was Offered and let II 60
again.
She did not ask me any more, nor did tell
her or what use was 1t to say that three
times had that woman tried To murder me
when crazed by drink, till her own people
had had her shut upl Or why should say
To nv bon garcon that had only that day
receiyed n letter from the doctor at the asy-
lum telling me that my wife had escaped and
he did not know where she was; could tell
him of any haunt in which she was likely to
be foundi
saw no sense In telling all this to Suzon.
When n man at the age Of % marries q wo-
man thirteen years older, and finds out soon
after that, besides being addicted to drink
ing, she is of unsound mind and makes pleas
ing attempts to murder him, she and her
doings are not subject on which no Is likely
to dwell. So held my tongue.
never thought she could find me out In
nv pleasant land, though she had been there
once with me, long ago; Inever thought that
In her mad hatred she would remember now
invariably spent the spring months there
after my winters work. But / fancied 1
should find her In Rome.
"What are you going to DOR asked Su-
zon.
"Work," she said quietly.
She never spoke Of 1t, but ! knew she
painted for her bread, and that she had no
idea Of saving money, but lived from hand to
mouth. So | was anxious about her.
could not trust myself TO think about 1t.
would keep au courant with her doings that
was all l could do for her, though / knew
she was horribly poor, and the life OF a beau
tiful woman in Paris is not easy in that case.
I'VE will have one more walk before CO."
said to Suzon, and she said YES"
50 the next day we walked up the terraced
1: ~h nd va rQanhad the
olives and the wheat, and then the bean
fields, and, wandering on at our own sweet
will, were happy and innocent, God knows
We sat down at last on the long grass at
tho edge Of the cliff overhangng the sea,
where little wind came up to US
We did not speak Of Its being our last day;
We talked as usual, comrade to comrade,
while nightingale somewhere about kept
trying his voice in broken ecstasies.
It was like heaven.
lay on tho grass Suzon, not far of, read
Leopardi aloud Why she chose that phil
osophie do desespoir, she who had still 10 joie
de vivre, do not know. But presently
ceased to hear her voice.
do not sleep at night, and, like all people
who have insomnia, am utterly unable some
times to keep from falling into deep sleep,
especially in tho open air.
And 50 did that day.
And while slept that woman must have
been creeping up to us. For / started, dazed,
from NY sleep to see Suzon struggling in tho
grasp Of . mad woman on the very verge OF
tho cliff
OF course I knew who it was. was on
my feet like a fash, but not In time; for 10
fore I could reach her l saw my comrade
flung out over that awful height.
And then two men who had been working
In the fields camc running and caught my
wife lid not wait to hear them tell how
they had seen her creep up to me, not seeing
was not alone; how, just a. she held the
knife at my back, Suzon had leaped like Q
cat and caught it from her hand, and how
that sho devil had turned on her. All that |
heard afterward. Now ! ran down that
xigzag path to tho shore and knelt by my
little comrade.
thought she was dead, for nearly every
bone In her body was broken and her eyes
were closed in stupor. groped for her heart
with my hand u who had never touched herr
She was alive for felt it stir, and then she
opened her eyes and looked at me-
She knew mo, but she did not, think, re-
member where she was or what had happened
Tho poor lips tried to speak and failed.
TRY again, my darling ina cherie" !
cried. "Tell me, are you In painr Though
/ did not think she was, for her back was
broken
"Say 1t again." she whispered
"Whatr' wondered. Indespair l called
her by every name had for her and had
never used except to my own soul.
INA cherie, ma rose blonde, mon amour"
"What you said-I was always-to you'll"
she gasped fretfully.
"Mon camarade, mon bon garcon," l said,
hardly able to get out tho words.
"Bon gar"- the murmur died In her
throat and her eyes closed. Presently could
no longer feel her heart
And when knew she was dead took her
In my arms and carried her up to the little
plateau, full of wondering peasants, where
the gendarmes were taking away my wife.
But did not SEQ them; went straight to
her house, even to that chamber where l had
never thought to enter, and laid her on her
bed.
l never kissed her. was her comrade,
not her lover.
1t Is two years since then.
My wife is shut up once more, safely
watched, now that it does not matter.
I am at my work. Sometimes l am &C
tired that can hardly undress at night, toe
70 ~