The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1890-12-14

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with an appetite which made him think with
a plying smile of the days when he trifled
fretfully with the choicest entree at Bignon's,
and disdainfully rejected the costliest pri-
meurs of the season. He felt that he was
rapidly acquiring the hardy vigor of the gen.
uine campagnard, and that henceforth he
might laugh at doctors and diagnosis.
The month was waning, and several of
the visitors had left the chateau. But the
party seemed only coSier and more lively as
the circle grew smaller. Just the right
number for sitting round the fire and telling
stories," Maxine said as they drew their
chairs in semi-circle about the wide
hearth in the central hall, hearth wherein
burned huge logs of red fir, exhaling arc
matte odors. Just the right number to ap-
preciate Lucie de ST. Walters low, sweet
voice as she sang Heine's ballads OF De
Mnssets passionate love songs i'll the gloanl-
ing.
Ninon, Ninon, que fails tn de la vie,
Toll qui ma pas Pamour?
What did she do with her life, this tram
quill, dignitied chatelaine?" Vivien asked
himself. She who seemed to know nothing
OF ioye-certainly not of love as he inter
preted the passion-a treachery burning
fiery furnace, from which woman emerges
scathed and scared, marked with the in
effaceable brand of infamy.
The meet had been more remote than
usual. and the hounds had gone far in di-
rection that led further and further away
from st. Waller lie ROi so, on this partieI-
lar evening Maxine was riding home alone,
having left his friends Tolpache, the painter
and the advocate, Bartrond, to take their
own line. He knew that his wife would be
full OF anxieties and morbid fancies about
him should he not return till long after
dark, and to stay with the hounds this after
noon would mean very late homecoming
He had left the hounds at o'clock, by
which time they had lost their first fox, and
were drawing wood fifteen miles from ST.
Waller lie Roi. In all probability the fox
would take them further away from that
mint, and the run might finish thirty miles
from home.
Maxine was riding second horse, which
took him homeward at the rate of seven
miles an hour, and the sun was just begin
ming to set as he rode out of bridle-track
through thickly planted fir wood and
came upon the carriage road which Nine.
Belfort bad christened the Phantom's High
way. Nothing was further from his
thoughts than the tradition of his family
upon that particular evening. He was in
excellent health and spirits, and was think
Ing how delightful it would be to get home
in advance of the other men and to enjoy a
quiet hour with Lucie, tete-a-tete, in that
quaint old turret-room which she had made
her boudoir. How sweet it would be TO sit
beside the IRE in the curious hooded chin
ney corner, talking coufdentially and all in
all to each other, just for that one quiet
hour, before 1t was time to dress for dinner /!
He rode slowly along, think king of the
woman he loved so dearly with such pure
and placid Affection love so strong in its
pnbounded faith; love across whose
brightness there had never fallen the shad-
ow Of change. AS Maxine reached the
turn of the road and saw the glade in a
slanting line before him, lie was startled by
the sound OF horn, curiously faint, yet
seeming near And looking straight before
him he saw carriage approaching, and
mechanically pulled his horse out of the
narrow road to make way for it. The car
rage was large and heavy looking, drawn
by four horses, and neither wheels nor
horses hoofs sounded on the hard gravel
road.
1t drove slowly past him, filled with men
whose fares were all turned TO him, pa lid
III the gray, faint light; the face of Gerard
de Nerval, who hanged himself in the Rue
de la Vielle Lanterne; the face of Alfred de
Musset, who wrecked his constitution by
drink and dissipation; faces of men less
famous than these two-all gone before
One. his oldest. dearest, trustiest friend in
the long ago, stood up in the carriage, and,
looking at him earnestly, point ed with
solemn gesture to the setting sun. The red
and the day was dead.
&c cher Horace" sighed Maxine, as the
carriage vanished into the shadows of the
wood. That means a rendezvous. We
are to meet soon."
He rode homeward very slowly. He had
never believed in this legend of the char-a-
bancs, and yet the fact of having seen it,
and the faces OF his dead friends, gave him
no surprise. 1t seemed as il he had known
always that he should see these familiar
md aivrot To
ing death. Yet only a few minutes ago he
had been rejoicing in the idea of long and
happy years lying before him, quiet lei
surely journey, hand in hand with his be-
loved, down the hill Of life. The effect Of
that strange vision upon him was like the
effect OF blow that produces brief uncon-
seriousness. The man who has been stunned
awakens with confused sense of time
feels as if years had gone by in
those few minutes of total oblivion.
Not for moment did he try to
reason away the vision. to think it delu-
sion of mind prepossossed by that particu-
lar image. To him the thing was truth, a
positive, indisputable fulfillment of family
legend. he was dOomed shortly to die. In
the midst of his calu delight in life the fate
He could not misunderstood that LOOK in his
dead friends face, the hand pointing to the
sinking sun. For him, too, the sun of life
was going down. LIE mad fancied himself
SO mucn improved IN health, SO much
stronger than of old. A fallacy born of a
contented mind, perhaps. That decay which
he had once dreaded was going on within
the citadel of life; heart or lungs-some-
where-there must be hidden mischief, and
the finger Of death had marked him.
III see what science says of me-" he
thought. land il the doctors verdict coin
cides with the spectral warning shall
know that my race is run. There Is always
some comfort In certainty. l will go to
Paris by the Rapidc tomorrow, and let
Blanchon overhaul me-"
Having come to this decision, he put his
horse at trot and rode rapidly home, ar
irving In time for cup of tea, which Lucie
called lie o'clock" in the turret boudoir.
and for that long. cosy talk with his wife
which he had anticipated. She praised him
Tor his devotion in leaving the hounds and
coming home alone, lest she should spend
uneasy hours after dark. She was gay.
caressing, charming, and it was exquisite
happiness to snatch this hour alone with
her. Not by one word or sigh did Maxine
reveal the mental shock he had experienced.
Yet In the midst Of their light talk and
laughter he was thinking Of a day near at
hand when she would be sitting lonely and
widowed In that room. and he was recalling
the provisions OF the will which he had