Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1891-10-28
THE C0NTESSA'S HAIR.
its Charleyl' said Polly
1T isn't = said I.


1T isn't = said I.
But I tell you it isl'
laughed derisively.
DO you think I've taken leave of my
senses?' said /. DO you think I don't
know Charley st. Cyr when see him?
There, they're stopping now. That's
Belle with him. Now do you believe in
me?' cried Polly.
The next minute we were kissing and
embracing our pretty cousin in-law, Mrs.
St. Cyr, on the sunken step of old Matteo
Giglio's shop in the Via Madre in Naples.
On either side of the dingy stone doorway
blossomed huge oleander bush in clum.
sy marble vase, and the Italian sunshine
slept dreamily on the pavement In zigzags
of gold, while overhead glowed the deep
blue sky of the poets.
Who was I'VE? Well. we represented
Polly and myself. Polly was my sister.
We were both school ma'ams, spending
our vacation in the land of sunshine. Not
wealthy tourists by any means, nor yet
bloated bondholders, but sensible, econom-
ical Yankee girls who had learned the
art of making every penny go as far as pos
sible, and who were engaged in doing the
continent as cheaply as practicable. And
quite necessary we found that same econo-
W. ~
house for ourselves, turning our own gowns
and wearing dyed kid gloves and washed
and ironed ribbons in spirit Of cheerful
independence. With Charles st. Cyr things
were altogether different. He was one Of
those curled darlings of fortune on whom
adversity's cold wind had never blown, and
when he married pretty Belle Bleecker, a
beauty and an heiress, it seemed as il moth
ing further could be desired.
TO Think cried Belle radiantly, that
YOU shouldn't have known Charley! or
course it's Charley! Kiss me, Polly, you
dear thiug'l Give me hug, Lucia! Of
all good luck, this chance.meeting Is the
most delightfulp .
But cried I, peering into the recesses
of the close carriage, what has Charley
done to himsel2'
Belle laughed.
you notice everything, don't you, dear?'
said she. YES, he is changed. He's been
very, very ill with typhoid fever, and his
hair has been cut off. It's that antediluvi.
an skullcap that changes him so.'
i told you so,' said I. No one would
have known him.
But it's Charley, all the same,' Polly
protested.
Pm regular guy, amt II? said young
with glance up and down the narrow
street to make sure that there were no OBJ.
servers, he stepped out of the rusty vehicle
and entered the store.
We've come to buy him a wig,' said
Belle lightly. of course he'll expect me
to set pair of spectacles and a orutch to
keep him company. He's so low spirited
about it, poor darling,' she added soto
voce, as Charley passed on With Polly.
They always had been great friends as chill
dren. And of course it was terrible trial
to lose all that splendid hair of his. But
he broods over it, and so talk as much
nonsense about it as can and pretent to
think it wild fun. And the strangest thing
is that it's almost impossible to find any
thing to match his eyes and complexion in
wigs or toupees, and he's so fastidious. you
can't think. We've been recommended tc
Matteo Giglio's place, and that's how We
came to be here
we came to look at antique canoes and
carved coral,' said I. Mot to buy, o1
course Our purses don't admit that, but
as mere matter of curiosity.
.Oh, Giglio keeps everything when onct
you find him OUT said Belle. There's
hair dressing ward in little underground
hole where lamps are burning all the year
around. Do come with us, there's love
while Polly loses herself among these inta
glios and rusty coins.'
Matteo Giglio had q consumptive looking
son Giuseppe by name, who sat in the littl'
den where newly shorn masses of COLDER
curls caught the dim CLEAN of the lamp
light, and long switches hung around lik.
the trophies Of some Indian chief fresl
from the scaIping path. BE viewed MI
lSt. Cyr critically, first with lifted lamp