Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-12-28

The Prince went away. No one, it seemed,
| knew anything of his lovely blondei And
yet she had often been to the opera before
But she had come in bourgeois fashion, to
the second tier. Now, as far as Prince
| Agenor was concerned there were no places
in the opera house out of the grand tier.
Above and beyond was chaos, a space with
out form and void. The Prince had never
in his life entered a box in the second tier.
Practically, therefore, there were no such
places.
While Romeo, kneeling before Friar Law
renee, was vowing eternal faith to Juliet,
the Prince was wandering about the corri-
dors. Who could this blonde be? He
must and would find outl
And then he suddenly remembered that
the highly respectable Nine. Picard was
| the Saint-Mesme's box opener, and that he
himself had long enjoyed the privilege of
that respectable lady's Acquaintance. In the
| DAYS of the Second Empire, had she not
initiated him, the Prince de Nerins. into
the various mysteries of bezique-Chinese,
| Japanese, etc.? He was then 20, and Nine.
Picard 40. At that time Nine Picard was
not an employe of the National Academy o. f
Music. Her calling-and it was no sine
cure-was that of "aunt" to a charming
young person, whose pretty face formed an
attractive item in the Christmas piece at
the varieties. In those youthful days the
Prince had spent three or four years of tran
uuil, almost domestic bliss, in the society of
''niece" and "aunt." Then each had gone
their several WAYS, and 10 years afterward
Agenor had one evening handed his coat to
venerable-looking old lady at the opera,
and been greeted by her with the following
little speech:
"Ah! Princel How delighted am to see
you again! And you are not changed, not
the least bit! You are just the same! Not a
day olderl"
It was Nine. Picard, raised to the dignity
of boxkeeper. They had long chat to-
gether over old times, end since that even
ing the Prince had never passed Nine.
Picard without smiling ''good evening""
to which she responded by deferential lit
tie bow. She was one of those persons, now
almost extinct, who have an intuitive per-
ception OF the finer degrees in rank. and of
the observances due to each. There lurked,
nevertheless, the least touch of familiarity,
almost of affection, in the tone with
which she said "Mon Prince" But this
was in no way offensive to Agenor; he had
none but pleasant recolleetions of Nine.
Picard.
"AhI Prince" said Madame Picard, as
Agenor approached her, "I have none of
your friends in my boxes tonight Madame
de Siniame has not come, and Madame
de Saint Mesme has lent her box"
Exactly. That is what has brought me to
you. Don't you know the people who have
Madame de Saint-Mesme's box?"
mo, not at all, Prince. They have never
been in the Marquise's box before"
soThen you haven't any idea who they
are?"
''Not the very least, Prince. Except that
1 can see they don't belong to-"
''Our set, !" she was going to say. But with
that tact which rarely failed her she stopped
herself in time, and concluded:
'tThey don't belong to your set. They are
middle-class folks, very we'll off should
say. but still, only middle class. All! you
are not satisfied? You want to know more
because of the fair lady, don't you. Primer"
These last words were uttered, or rather
murmured, with wonderful delicacy. In
themselves they were perhaps somewhat un-
becoming as between Prince and boxkeeper.
But the perfect good taste of tone and accent
saved them. Yes, it was an attendant who
addressed him; but an attendant, who pre-
served something Of her former status as
'taunt'' in the realm of Oythera-Mme. |
Picard continued:
"Ah, a lovely creaturel She came with a |
little dark man. Her husband, / am sure,
for while she was taking off her c1oak-and |
she was some time over 1.-THE never uttered |
a single word. There was no little atten- |
tions; he showed no interest. Yes, he must |
have been her husband. And then exam
ined the cloak. One always feels little |
bit curious about new comers, and 1 and |
my colleague, Nine. Flachet, otter amuse
ourselves by guessing what sort people are
from their belongings. Well, the cloak was
made by good dressmaker, but not by |
smart one. 1t is expensive, we'll cut, the |
material of the best. but there is no style |