Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-12-06

| will enable you to become q centenarian," con-
cluded Bianchon laughingly.
A consulting physician has 90 often occasion
to look grave that he gladlysnatches any excuse
| FOR being cheerful.
Il have come to ask you to make thorough
examination and to find out II there is any hid
den mischief in my constitution"
''Do you suspect anything" asked the doc
tor, with his keen look, q look which suggested
that for him the outward semblance Of man,
j coat and waistcoat included, was but q glass
case through which he saw the inner ma
chinery.
mo; never felt better in my iife."
And yoq deliver yourself over OF your own
accord to the stethoscope and the sphygmome-
ter! Prudent man. Kindly take OF your coat
and waistcoat.'
Dr. Bianchon made q most studious eXamina-
tion o. his patient, sounded, raped and lis
tened, and then, with smile, gave him clean
"Your pulse is capital, SO we won't trouble
the sphygmometer, which find very useful
with my alcoholic patients" said the doctor. Il
told you when you were here last that there was
nothing organically wrong. l can tell you now,
in all good faith, that you are as sound within
as You are well ioking without-no whited Sc
pulchre here, mon. ami" with Q friendly tap
| on the patients chest.
s there nsi no fear Of dying suddenly
| mot unless you get yourself under the
wheels of an omnibus. or by the side Of some
| clever friend who will scramble through a
hedge with the muzzle Of his gun pointed
at your ribs. Death by internal disease you
have no need to fear-heart and and lungs are
as sound as bell.''
| Thank God" exclaimed Maxine fervently.
| "What put these fears into your head-for
you must have felt nervous about yourself or
/ You would hardly have come all the way from
your country place to see me?'
| "A foolish fancy | am too happy in my
surroundings not to fear. Good-by; come and
| time"
| "That is Just the thing never can find. but
| should like to spend a couple Of days at your
| chateau when all Paris is out Of town. Unfor-
| tunately when all Paris is away there are gem
orally some very interesting cases at the hos
pitfalls and take that opportunity to 60 on
with my education"
Maxine and his wife possessed house in
the Rue de Varennes It had been Lucie's
| house during her widowhood, and here couple
OF old servants kept all things in order while
their master and mistress were in the country.
Maxine had sent his servant on before him
and found comfortable breakfast neatly set
out in the well-furnished library, which his
wife had given him as his own den.
Small as the house was, and although all
things in it were in perfect order, the rooms
had an aspect which weighed upon Maxime's
spirits. There was an atmosphere of emptiness
and desolation. He was glad to put on his hat
and go out and wander aimlessly about Paris,
finding his way to the Champs Elysecs and the
Bots, counting the hours till the Rapide would
take him southwark.
He had engaged places in the sleeping car
for himself and his valet. He was at the
terminus half an hour before the train started,
tired out with his rambles about Paris and
with the wakeful night in the express; 80 he
took off coat and boots and laid himself
down under fur rug, which his servant ar
ranged for him, and was soon asleep.
He must have slept some hours, for it was the
voice Of the pOrters shouting Tonnerre that
awoke him, and most of the travellers were
getting out for supper. He did not care to cat
| composed himself to sleep again, but this time
| sleep did not answer his call. Two men in
berths near his were gossiping in a subdued
murmur, which was more exasperating to st.
Vallier's nerves than the loudest talking might
have been
should think 1 did know him-much better
| than he knows the women he pretends to ana
fyze In those sickly novels Of his. tell you he
| is lump of vanities-thinks himself irresisti-
| ble--thinks that where he is concerned there is
no such thing as virtue or honor in woman. A
woman may have resisted every other tempter.
but when he comes, he comes like Caesar to see
| and to conquer.
II don't believe he will succeed with Madame
de St. Waller, irresistible as he may consider
"Do you know the lady?'
II knew her when she was Madame Charles
COlnet and knew her to be q perfect wife, and
yet believe she was married to Colnet by her
parents when she was very young. He was
hardly the kind of man a beautiful girl would
have chosen for herself-a rough diamond, ce
cher Colnet-but she never allowed society to
| see tina. he not the first man in the uni
verse for her, and if this fellow Vivien brags Of
| her favors he must be an arrant scoundrel."
H. -, a L
but he declares that he will be. You know his
bOastful device: If not today, tomorrow
| saw letter he wrote to Julot Of the Sancho
Panza, in which he talked as il tomorrow were
near at Eansl." =,
They talked of other things and by-and by
the murmuring ceased. but st. Waller lay
broad awake till the train steamed into Dion.
and he counted every minute that must pass
before the tardy morning train would take him
back. stopping at three village stations on the
way to st. Waller lie ROi.
His wife was at the station to meet him with
coupe and pair, more fur rugs and a bouil-
lotte
She was there to meet him, radiant, loving;
yet his soul sickened at the thought that her
fondness might be a disguise to hide q heart
that was already faithless Yet no. he would
not doubt her purity. even though the tainted
breath of the seducer had passed across it.
'1s vivien still at the chateau?" he asked
carelesay, as they drove away from the station.
Alc Ldu iObt so muCu tIuc Ou the way WITH
that accursed omnibus train that it was already
daylight and he could see his wife's face darken
| suddenly at the sound Of the nOvelist's name
and he felt the arm within his own tremble
slightly.
eyes; but he leaves this evening by the same
| train by which you travelled"
THAT is rather sudden, isn't it? He talked
OF staying as long would have him in
order that he might finish his novel in the
quiet Of the country"
HE may have found that his novel made
very little progress and that the air Of st. VAL
| lier was not conducive to literary work.
''Lucie! believe that man has been guilty
Of some impertinence to you"
mot the least in the world" his wife an
swered With little laugh which was meant to
| be reassuring; ''only he has somewhat out
stayed his welcome. Laurie and are of the
| same opinion in being tired Of his company.
| and we venturcd to let him perceive our senti-
ments-Of course in the politest way-during
| your absence. Literary men are sensitive. and
| he was quick to understand the situation, and
| devise a sudden necessity to be in Paris
| God bless yOu my dearest" cried Maxine
clasping his wife to his heart. III Eve had been
like you the serpent would have crawled out of
Eden baffled and Inundated"
"Dear Maxine, / really don't know what YOU
are thinking about" his wife said, gaily. ''rhe
| whole business was as simple as bon Jour. and
hope You will be especially polite to NJ vi
| wien on the last day Of his visit
| Maxine had not the slightest doubt that Hec-
| tor Vivien had taken advantage of the hus-
bands absence to declare himself to the wife,
and that he had been repulsed with the fearless
| scorn of unassailable purity. He took an op-
/ 10 Il