Wichita eagle., 1889-11-07

clinging to the projections. he ventureo
among tho ruins Of his housA he hedtated
before setting his foot down anywhere, as It
fearful Of trampling upon her beloved body.
Suddenly he thought he heard he did
hear-a distant voice, but 20 faint ono might
have said it was but . breath, sigh borne
by the wind. BE stopped 1t was subter-
ranean voice, q wouan's Voucher voioel
He recognized IL now. BE could not dis
tinguish what she was saying, but 1t was, in
deed, her careesing voice. calling to him
from the depths Of that fearful night, whero
she believed herself immured forever.
81 win save her." he Said, ana ne set to
work.
Bruising his knees, lacerating his hands,
the nails torn away, sweating tears, weeping
blood, for over an hour the count toiled at
the mass of stones with frenzy. Now, vainly
tLrusting his bleeding hands into heap Of
rubbish, the powdered plaster slipping
through his fingers Like running water; again.
moving heavy blocks Of stone, which fell
back, catching his hands in an iron grip.
The distant voice guided him continually.
It began to grow less distinct, and suddenly
it ceased altogether.
Then despair helped him to accomplish prod
igies. He lifted blocks of stone, which he
threw far from him; he wrested away beams
bristling with nails With blows of his feet,
of his shoulders, urged on by ferocious en-
ergy, he rapidly accomplished giant work,
and was ready to fall from fatigue and thirst
when there was a sudden giving way in the
mass under his fest, which landed him on the
edge of an excavation, which yawned be-
meath him black and unfathomable. Crouched
down over this sinister hole, he reached out
bis arm and CROPPED cautiously around in the
darkness BE encountered something soft
and cold. In spite Of tho horror which
seized him, he had the courage to examine
with his trembling hands the already icy
flesh. He distinguished first an open mouth,
closed eyes, smooth brow, then suddenly
his fingers were buried In a waving, dlken
mass, which he recognized instantly. Her
superb tressesl Merely by touching them he
recalled their color distinctly.
Caressing, in the darkness, the locks he had
SO often fondled, he murmured, softly: my
love-if you are not dead-speak to me-"
Only the silence replied to him
'She is dead" he thought. II must take
her from this too narrow tomb"
Selling her at hazard by the shoulders, he
began to lift her toward him. Three times
he raised her, and three times was he forced
to let her fall back. She seemed terribly
heavy, as il some enormous weight were sus-
pended from her feet. At last, gathering up
all bis strength, he succeeded and dragged
forth a something which he did not at first
dare to look at, and placed it near him on the
stones.
But he had scarcely cast his eyes on it when
he uttered a piercing cry-a cry Of rage and
horror.
His wife dead, with hair loosely flowing, an
ecstatic smile on her lips, held in her arms-a
mani Oh! how she strained him to her, with
he-he had thrown one arm around her waist,
while his left hand, hanging by his side,
grasped a white rose, not yet faded
The count had fallen on his knees. In
flash, he had measured all the depth Of his
dishonor. The years Of love and happiness,
he saw them suddenly mumed In all their
startling reality, polluted by lying caresses
and deceitfui kisses.
He approached and leaned over, to view
the features of him who had culled the last
sigh, the last VOW Of tie perjured wife, but
he recoiled in disgust. The head of the man,
crushed, almost detached from the body, was
but bleeding mass Of flesh Life had guarded
their secret, and now death seemed still to
favor them, giving up to the dishonored hus-
band nothing but an unacceptable and dis
figured body. He looked again, searching
for some trace, some mark which would fash
q name out from the darkness name COW
eted by his jealousy and his ragel The white
hands bore no rings.
The body, slender and elegant, appeared to
be that of young man. 1t was an impene-
trable corpse, resolved to guard its secret.
The count questioned the motionless lips of
his wife, which must have so often let pass
the name of the beloved-they remained mute.
In frenzied prayer, broken by blasphemies,
he called on God to deliver up to him, on the
instant, the abhorred name. God answered
not. Only, on the wall overhead, the turtle
dove cooed In its gilded cage. All! if the bird
Of love could only speak.
Then, after passing his hand across his
brow, the count, moving mechanically,
stopped down and placed one lnee on bis
wife's breast, and, holding her thus, endea-
vored TO separate her from this mans body
this body ON which Love and Death had cru
CITED her. 1t was long and difficult task.
As well try to untwine serpents or to tear
away the ivy from the trunk of the ancient
oak.
At last the rigid arms relaxed On either |
side, and the outraged husband, putting an
end to this odious embrace, repossessed him |
self of the body of his wife, which the corpse
of the lover had still disputed with him.
Then he sat down between them, like judge, |
and awaited the day.
In the early dawn, with the aid of some |
peasants, he buried his wife under the shadow
Of little fig tree, in garden close at hand. |
The remainder Of the day he walked the
island, stopping the soldiers, the workmen,
every one whom he met, and led them UP to |
most profound grief.
He believed, he said, that he had found the |
body of dear friend, but he was not abso-
utely sure, and he offered 20, 900 scudi to the /
person who could tell him with certainty the /
name of the dead man. In spite Of the enor-
nous sum, no one could identify the body. |
The count had it inferred separately, at his |
OWN expense, in q corner of the Casamicciola |
Since then he searches ceaselessly for this |
lame-which be is condemned never 10 know
less jealous Of the man who, living. stole
rom him his wife's heart, than Of the mystic
'ious corpse which had so insolently duped |
for The Argonaut from the
French of Henri Lavedan by d c. R
An Independent Opera Singer.
That our popular comic opera singers are
growing independent as the seasons roll by
vas proved to the writer the other day. A
riend WAS calling on one of the best known,
f not the very best known, performers in
New York city when the card of dramatic