The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-04-24
THE FATAL FLOWER.

"You are a dead man," said the Doc
tor, looking fixedly at Anatole.
Anatole was astonished.
He had come to spend the evening with
his old friend, Dr.. Bardais, the illustrious
savant, whose studies of poisonous plants
had made him famous. 1t was not his
fame, however, which attracted Anatole
to the Doctor, but his nobility of heart
and almost patcrnal kindness. And now
suddenly, without any preparation, the
young man heard this terrific prognostica-
ton from the lips of so great an author
ity.
"Unhappy boy" continued the Doctor,
s!what have you done?"
ssNothing that I know of" stammered
Anatole.
eThink. Tell me what you have
drunk, what you have eaten, what you
have inhaledw
This last word was like a ray of light
to Anatole. That very morning he had
received a letter from friend who was
travelling in India. In this letter be found
a flower which the tourist had plucked
on the banks of the Ganges, an odd-look-
ing little red flower, whose odor, he re-
membered, seemed to him to be strangely
purgnant. Anatole looked in his pocket
book and took therefrom the letter and
the flower which he showed to the
savant.
''There is not Doubt" exclaimed the
Doctor. "It is the Pyramenensis Indica!
the fatal flower of blood!"
"You really think so2"
ssAlas! I am certain"
s'But it is not possible that it should
prove fatal to me. am only twenty-five
years old, am strong and in the best of
health"
"At what hour did you open this fatal
letter."
CAT 9 o'clock this morning."
"Well, tomorrow morning, at the
same hour, at the same minute, in full
health, as you say, you will feel peculiar
pain in your heart, and that will end all.
"And you know of no remedy, no
means Of"
"None, said the Doctor.
Then, clasping his head in his hands,
the savant fell into chair, overcome with
grief.
The emotion of his old friend convinced
Anatole that he was indeed doomed. He
departed at once; he was almost insane.
A cold sweat on his forehead, his ideas
confused, walking mechanically, Anatolc
went forth into the night, unconscious of
what was passing about him. For long
time he walked thus, then, coming to Il
bench, he sat down.
This rest did him good. Up to that
moment he had been like man who has
suddenly received a severe blow on the
head. At last, however, his mind seemed
to clear, and he began to gather his scat
tered ideas.
''My situation" he thought, ''is like
that of a man condemned to death. Such
person, however, can still hope for
mercy. But how long have 1 to livel"
He looked at his watch.
ssThrce o'clock in the morning. It is
time to 90 to bed. What! I 90 to bed?
give to sleep the last six hours of my life!
No. 1 have certainly something better
than that to do. But what? Why, 1
have my will to make"
Not far away was restaurant which
was open all night. Thithcr Anatole
went.
"Waiter, bring me pot Of coffee and
bottle of ink" he said, as he seated
himself at table.
He drank cup of coffee, and, looking
at the paper lying on the table before
him, said:
''To whom shall I leave my income of
10000 francs? have neither father nor
mother. Among the people in whom 1
am interested there is only one to whom
care to leave my money-Nicettc." ."
Nicettc was Anatolc's second cousin,
charming girl of eighteen years, having
golden hair and large dark eyes. Like
him she was an orphan, and this similar
bereavement had long since established a
bond of sympathy between them.
His will was quickly drawn up. He
left everything to Nicctte.
That done, he drank second cup of
coffee.
''Poor Nicctte" he thought, ''shc was
very sad the last time I saw her. Her
guardian, who knows nothing beyond the
wind instruments which ne teaches pupils
of the Conservatory to play, did not do
right in promising her hand to brute. a
bully, whom she dctcsts. She dctcsts
him all the more because she loves some
one else, if / have able to understand her
,eticence and her embarrassment. Who
is this happy mortal! know not, but
he is certainly worthy of her since she
has chosen him. Good, sweet, beautiful.
loving, Nicette deserves the best of hus-
bands. All! if she might have been my
wife! 1t is outrageous to force her to
marry man she hates, to ruin her life by
sntrusting such treasure to the care of n
bruts. But why may not be Nicette's