St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1889-01-05
den upon his shoulder, playing thus a
role from the

and resumed his road to his dwelling.
Returned to his house. the doctor laid
the skeleton upon the bed in his sleep
ing room, that also served him as a
workshop. 1t was vast chamber,
with high groined ceiling, ribbed with
The walls had disappeared behind desks
and cases filled with books and min
erals, with here and there family pOr-
trait. In the corner piano, mute, and
Uttered with instruments and papers,
appeared to have forgotten its mission.
AT the extreme end of the chamber the
bed rose up, an immense bed, shrouded
in canopy and curtains of a green
damaSk, worn and faded. Upon this
bed the skeleton was extended. the
head resting upon bolster. and plunged
in sleep exempt from dreams.
The lamp under a huge shade moder-
ated the light that spread through the
apartment to a half-mysterious glow.
| The doctor seated himself at his table
and began to mediate deeply. A little
| recovered from his first emotions, the
| scientific idea again controlled his mind,
| and he demanded by what marvellous
operation the skeleton found itself IN
that perfect state of desiccation. Why
none of the natural ligamentS were
| the water?
THIS PHENOMENON
| upset all his anatomical notions, and he
examined Galen, Sprengel, the 'Dis-
putationes Anat' mic@'' of Halter, the
treatises of Vesalius: ''De Humani
Corporis Fabrica,'' for information or
analogous instances. But his re-
| searches were unfruitful, and he was
| convinced that he should be forced to
look beyond the physical laws to find
the solution to the enigma.
Then he delved into the works of
Lavater upon "Specters," ran through
Vale de Moura's 'De Incantationbus,"
and reopened his Latin manuscript,
whose fantastic recitals seemed to him,
with this skeleton before him, much
less improbable. He questioned if he
| were not at the moment in one of those
| rare situations of earthly life when one
touches upon the unknown world when
| one is transported, so to speak. to the
verge of the intangible: when the
through all ones members.
/ Greatly disquieted and puzzled, he
| leaned upon his hand his hot brow and
pondered, OF, rather, fxedly regarded
the skeleton upon the bed; those white
and perfect bones that, struck by the
light of the lamp, glistened in the
shadow of tie curtains. In that state,
bordering upon hallucination, it seemed
! to him that deaths head, which no
longer had a strip of flesh upon its
frame, took on the outline of remem-
bered features; he thought he saw that
hideous mouth expand into smile, ard
the names Teresita, Raphael, wandered
anew across his lips.
ALI at once noise was heard at the
door of the chamber. There was some
thing strange in this noise, and a low
grooming. possibly the wind across the
keys, came from the piano like an echo.
The doctor was unable to keep from
skeleton. by Il brusque movement,
turned upon its side and cried in voice
that had singular correlation with the
noise at the door, the word:
ENTER"
The door opened and a priest APP
peared upon the threshold, priest who
down with fatigue. He was blessed
with superb embonpoint; each of his
hands rested upon sort of crutch-cane,
and he had in his manner something
grotesque, inconsistent, unstable. He
moved forward, and ali his body bent
and rebounded with restless inactiv-
ity that one viewing him, so slack and
flabby was his gait, would have sup
| posed his priestly Soutane encased but
mass of homeless flesh.
"Mon Dieup' thought the doctor. his
eyes aging; "Mon Dieu! what if it
! should be he!'
The priest approached the table and
took seat beside him. His voice, too,
was feeble and cultural. the voice of an
/ old man who 10 longer had teeth.
Pardon me,'' said he, "for coming
to disturb you thus, and also permit
me to speak to you moment frakly.'
Speeches. with fright the doctor
listened to him. "Had he really the
use of his reason?" he asked himself:
twas he the victim of dream?'' He
made violent effort and responded:
'Speak. will hear you.''
'GoOdf' said this strange, fantastic
and lameEtable priest, "but it will take
me some minutes. l come" he con-
! tinued, from distant countries where
have passed long years in penitence;
| yes, penltence, for am great culprit,
and scarcely dare to reveal to YOU the
hideOusness of my crime. Nevertheless.
reveal it to you l must; for that | am
here; for that go back-far back-into
| the past.
81 was young then, barely twenty-five
years old, an age when every one still
has in him a ray that sorrow and sin
dissipate, alas, only too soon. Yet.
| young as was, was bound already bv
the most formidable of VOWS to throw
myself into
| THE ARMS OF GOD.
~ had friend whom cherished as
a brother. He. innocent and good.
evinced for me the livellest affection
and confided to me all his secrets.
Thanks to a pure love, he had traversed
the dangers OF youth without wounds or
| regrets, and he made me a part of all
his joys. l was initiated into ali his
hopes and projects without his ever
taking thought that under my black
| robe beat heart as ardent and as pas
sionate as his own. He depicted to me
| in the most glowing cOlors the charms
of her whom he loved. He knew not
then that it is dangerous to speak of
happiness''
The doctor grew pale. my sus
picions,'' he murmured, my suspicious
were we'll founded"
"Allow me to finish my recital" said
the priest, as if he had OWNED the
murmured words: 81 will tell you
! everything; III is necessary. The day
that saw her close, her of whom he
had so often spoken, l comprehended
woman and all that she holds of fas-
cination and despair. met Love with
| all his train of sorrows, and all his
| frenzies and cries of triumph. / sud-
| denly became amorous, jealous, wicked,
unclean. l detested and / loved that
young girl with all the strength and
| feryor of a fiery soul. She had the can
dor of child, and treated me like a
friend. saw her frequently alone; l
struggled in vain
WAS YANQUIsHED."
"And this woman participated in your
| loua9,, cried the doctor