The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1888-06-14
A NARROW ESCAPE.

II NAhlON LCOA1 "a.
the .sOpera Grande" was Helene
Montaigne. queen of comedy Louise
Belfour, and different were they in
physical beauty and temperament as
the roles in which they appeared.
Helene Montaigne was pronounced
brunette, with eyes lustrous as black
pearls, super-abundance of blue
black hair, complexion the deepest of
olive, tall, commanding, and remark
able in the development of figure that
sculptors prize in models, and painters
delight in transferring in glowing
colors TO canvas.
Louise Balfour was less in stature,
slighter, and more graceful, with eyes
of the purplish-blue of the pansy,
cheeks as the blush rose, hair as curl
ing threads of amber touched by the
red of sunshine, a mobile mouth, ripe
carmine lips. and dainty pearls of teeth.
Between the two, rivals in beauty as
in art, there had been the most furious
jealousy and struggling to monopolise
applause since their first meeting with
in the same theatre.
Yet the intensity of feeling was kept
yelled, as women know so well how to
do. They treated each other with the
utmost politeness, smiled and kissed
in public, hated the more in private
and under the rose ridiculed each others
acting.
But jealousy, bitter as it was, would
have been kept in subsection had not
another and more potent cause famed
the smouldering embers into the fiercest
flame.
TO them, indeed, ''love came with all
its frantic fire and wild romance and
though their hands used no daggers,
their eyes flashed them; though their
fingers dealt out no poison their
tongues breathed it in malicious SLAM
der.
1t was an evil day for the mental
peace of the two proud, gifted, and
passionate women when Claude Akers
came to act in the same house, to play
leading parts with both, to look the
king to command and the lover to win
hearts.
Nature had formed the graceful man
ly figure, the expressive, beaming eyes,
the handsome face; had given the deep
rich-toned voice, the tender address,
Macbeth to Romeo, from Hamlet to
Melnotte, is a wide range; but it was
easy for him, and he looked and acted
as if born for each and each alone.
Attracted at the outset, both of the
women did their best to win him,
brought all the arts and Establishments
of their sex to bear, never acted as
well, and enslaved others if they did
not him.
The battle was long, but the end too
certain to be questioned. The blue
eyes flashed grand and scornful
triumph, and the black ones yelled
their indignant lightning beneath the
heavy curved lashes as they saw the
glitter of a diamond upon the finger of
her rival.
But Helene Montaigne was far too
proud, had too much control over her.
self, to permit the world to see, to let
her successful sister know how much
she was suffering. Calm outwardly,
but more stately than ever, she APP
peared in public; was the first to con-
gratulate Louise upon her conquest.
Yet it was done in words that left a
sharp sting behind, and lowered the
idol erected within her heart.
In her own private chamber, hidden
from all ears, breath was given to the
shame, the indignation, the jealous
madness she felt. and the tigress nature
could not have been more vindictive,
cruel. or treacherous.
''She knew l loved him-knew he
looked kindly upon me, and came be-
tween, the yellow-haired Delilah, to
tempt Sampson from my side. By
Heaven, I'll not endure it! All within
the theatre, all / meet, mockingly
laugh and point the finger of scorn at
me, and she openly gioats over my
misery. will be revenged or l shall
go maa.'
Overmastered by her feelings, she
flung herself upon couch and wept
tears as of gall. Every deadly passion
within her was aroused and inflamed,
every prompting of vengeance at white
heat. She was ripe and ready for muir
der. Very little more was required for
her to become unsexed, to stain her
Hands in blood.
All the tenderness of womanhood, all
the restraints of law and reason, were
for the time lost, and short indeed
would have been love and life for
Louise Balfour had she then crossed
her path.
The long exhausting night of raging
was followed by calm. But it was of
the character of the wild beast crouched
in the jungle, looking furtively around
with its yellow eyes streaked with
blood; of the sea that murmurs sooth-
ingly before it engulfs, the treacherous
silence that precedes the earthquake,
the hush in the air before the coming
of lightning.
The same power that made the terri
BILE realism in Lady Macbeth enabled
Helene Montaigne to conceal the
secret that was as cancer eating out
her heart.
With the same savage satisfaction,
the very refinement of cruelty that
causes the cat to play with the mouse
already within sweep of its claws, she
watched her destined victim and waited
the moment to crush.
No word or look when the lovers
were together upon the stage escaped
her, and. acting the spy she often heard
tender words spoken and saw sweet
caresses given and returned.
And every tender utterance, every
lingering kiss, only added to her men
tai agony and the more fixed firm
determination to put an end to them
an end to endearments she fancied
should be her own.
So quick and strong working brain,
so unshrinking a nature, were not slow
to plan or execute.
Before many days had passed she saw
her opportunity, and an almost smile
of pleasure curled her lips and per-