The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1889-07-13
eff it pleases me now to forget,
what right have you, | pray, to re-

Impelled by morbid curiosity,
which sometimes takes possession
of mans heart, Olivier insisted
that she should answer his question.
Something more powerful than his
will forced him TO think OF her other
lovers and to find on the lips of his
former sweetheart the traces, not of
his kisses, but of theirs. He knew
that he had been the first to awaken
love in her heart, and he could not
suppress the desire to know in how
many hearts she had inspired love,
and to hear from her own lips to
what extent that love had been re-
turned
"Olivierl Olivier" exclaimed Mar
iette, ''if you were not insane it
would be odious for you to speak in
this way-at this time"
He bad the courage to tell her that
it was not jealousy that made him
ask.
"Oh, then. it is you amusement
that you catechise Inc? What deli
cacy!'
A sudden change came over him.
He was ashamed of the ignoble in
stinct which he had been unable to
restrain and Of the cowardice which
had led him to offend this woman who
had been so dear to him.
Pardon me, Mariette?" he said.
III was indeed insane. know it is a
sacrilege to speak here, in this place
where we have been so happy OF other
love than ours
She extended to him her hand,
which he kissed, and they began to
talk of other things, the theatres,
music, novels, in the light tone Of
small talk. But at the same time
they observed each other with that
perspicacity which had given them
such experience as they had acquired;
he, of women, she, of men; and they
began to see each other, not as they
seemed at their recent reunion, but
as life had made them during the
time OF their separation. 1t seemed
! to Marietta that Olivier had become
sceptical, ironical and blase, that
the spirit of criticism and mockery
had dried up in him the source of
, his generous enthusiasts. Olivier,
on his side; though he perceived
that the little g0verness, since she
had been metamOrphosed into d
woman Of the world, had lost her
naturalness, that she no longer pos
sessed that modest reserve, that
charm of innocence and naivete,
which had given such q sweet, child
like manner to the sweetheart of his
youth. 1t was deception for them
to try to estimate how much the
years had changed each from the
ideals both had preserved,
Their breakfast finished, Olivier
and Marietta went to walk in the
city. They entered the Vatican. and
F, were surprised because they did not
feel the religious emotion which they
f, used to experience on penetrating
the sanctuary of Raphael and Mich
aol Angelo. Then they visited the
Sistine Chapel.
''Ah, well, you have nothing to
say?" remarked Marietta.
"What would you have ME say? l
, would scandalize you ii should con-
fess that | no longer find all this as
beautiful
"Why, that is strange" she said.
81 also have had the same impress
sion. You see, my dear, we were SIM
: pie hearted in the days when we were
here before, and we are so olonger."
"PerhaDS," muttered Olivier.
Marietta sighed softly, and then,
after a moments silence, added:
at is too bad! 1t is well to be n
thusiastic.
The disappointment they had
found in art, added to the deception
they had imposed upon themselves,
augmented the vague uneasiness
which they had begun to experience.
They took a carriage and were
driven over the Appian Way at the
hour when the sun. declining on the
horizon, coiored with warm tones
the marble of antique tomb and
elongated the shadows OF the aque-
ducts.
When in Rome before Olivier used
often to come, after day of work,
to JOIN Marietta, who awaited him
on a bench on the Pincian Hill, and
they wandered together from the city,
seeking through the fields some cor
ner of the meadow sown with asphO-
dels, where they seated themselves
near each other and contemplated in
mute ectasy this spectacle, the great
est, they thought, which the world
could offer. Then, when the sun had
disappeared in the west by the sea,
they returned, walking side by side,
serious, meditative, filled with SOW
erign beauty of the place and the
scene. Olivier, as he went, recited
some veses, which Marietta repeated |
in a low tone, or they talked about |
the gods of Rome, whose presence
they felt everywhere around them, the /,
radiant Apollo, whose chariot they |
had just seen disappear, and the
chaste Diana, whose crescent, thin
and pale, began to shine above the
Sabine Mountains. Their souls, in
toxicated by the splendor of form
and the magic of color, were pagan
lied in the midst of this great store
house of antiquity; and slowly, hand |
in hand, their eyes turned toward
the heaven, where the stars began to
show themselves here and there, they I I
returned through the avenue lined
with sepulchres, where their steps |
sounded on the great tlagstones
which had been trodden, two thou
sand years before, by the scandals
of the Romans.
But now, as they approach the |
tomb of Cecilia Metella, Marietta
suddenly exclaims:
"Ah, my poor Olivier, it is useless!
l expected to be SO happy to-day,
and now-Ino longer love the Roman
Campagna! 1t is all over!'
"The fact is, replies Olivier, "that
the environs of Paris are more at
tractive, though in another way"
Presently they come upon a group
of young people speaking French,
three or four handsome dark girls,
tail and straight as cariatides, ac-