Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1888-09-09

came INTO the studio and she wasthere."
seldom entered Suzons house. One morn
ing had gone to ask her about photograph
ing picture, remembered, and Princess
Mathilde was there.
"What did she sayT' asked
"Preciselyt She said what very hand
some man you were, and what sad story
yours was"
"Ahr said stupidity.
"Where is your wifeT' Suzon spoke with
careful civility. 81 suppose you will join her
In Rome7'
'My wife, nnademoiselle, is, or rather was,
in maison de sante. She suffers from in
durable honicidal mania"
81 beg your pardon" said my comrade
softly, and held out her hand to me.
took it as it was offered and let 1t 60
again.
She did not ask me any more, nor did tell
her. OF 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 my bon garcon that had only that day
received 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
be foundi
Isaw no sense in telling all this to Suzon.
When man at the age Of % marries 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 he is likely
to dwell So held my tongue.
eb. G~I -,
my pleasant land, though she had been there
once with me, long ago; Inever thought that
in her mad hatred she would remember how
invariably spent the spring months there
after my winters work But / fancied
should find her In Rome.
"What are you going to doF' asked Su-
zon.
Work" she said quietly.
She never spoke of it, but I Enew 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. I
could not trust myself to think about it I
would keep au courant with her doings; that
was all l could do for her, though I 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."
l.
So the next day we walked up the terraced
high road, up and up till we reached 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
the edge Of the cliff overhanging the SEQ,
where little wind came up to us.
We did not speak Of its being our last day;
we talked as usual, comrade to com-ade,
while nightingale somewhere about kept
trying his voice in broken ecstasies.
1t was like heaven.
l lay on the grass; Suzon, not far of, read
Leopard aloud Why she chose that phil
osophie de desespoir, she who had still la jois
de yivre do not know. But presently
ceased to hear her voice.
do not sleep at night, and, like oil people
who have insomnia, am utterly unable some
times to keep from falling into deep sleep,
especially in the open air.
And so did that day.
And while slept that woman must have
been creeping up to u.s. For started, dazed,
from my sleep to see Suzon struggling in the
grasp of mad woman on the very verge OF
the cliff
OF course I knew who it was was On
my feet like flash, but not in time; for be-
fore could reach her 1 saw my comrade
flung out over that awful height.
And then two men who had been working
in the fields came running and caught my
wife. I did not wait to hear them tell how
they had seen her creep up to me, not seeing
was not alone; how, just as she held tho
knife at my back, Suzon had leaped Like q
cat and caught it from her hand, and how
A. u. u y Al r
heard afterward. Now 1 ran down that
zigzag path to the 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. CROPPED for her heart
with my hand q who had never touched herr.
She was alive, for felt it stir, and then she
opened her eyes and looked at me.
She knew me, but she did not, think, re-
member where she was or what had happened
The poor lips tried to speak and failed.
TRY again, my darling, ma cherier' I
cried ''Teu me, are you in painr' Though
l did not think she was, for her back was
broken.
''Say it again." she whispered.
''Whatr' wondered In despair called
her by every name 1 had for her and had
never used except to my own soul
"Ma cherie, ma rose blonde, mon amour"
"What you said-I wGs always-to your
she gasped fretfully.
''Mon camarade, mon bon garcon," 1 said,
hardly able to get out the words.
Bon gar"- the rlur1nur 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 genGarmes were taking away my wife
But did not see them; I went straight to
her house, even to that chamber where had
never thought to enter, and laid her on her
bed.
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 1t does not matter.
I am at my work. Sometimes am SO
tired that can hardly undress at night, too
tired to sleep.
But this spring longed SO for my old
Already that came in spite Of myself. 1t is
all the same, all-yet today lay face down. |
ward in the bean &elds, snd if lifted my
head l could not see the young wheat for