St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-08-23
Votaries From High Life Come
Down to LuXuriate in
Tf
Camille's Secret Divulged at
the Hour Of Four in the
Morning.
Paris and st. Paul Singulaply
Mixed at an Opium
Joint.

Camille was reading Belot's "My
Wife," which is very bad reading at the
best. The night was too hot for living
or love. l restlessly threw myself off
of the lounge on which L had been
grooming, and, looking into her blue
eyes, asked my lady:
Ibid you ever hit the pipe?'"
OF course she had not. No woman adj
mits or confesses to her lover her secret
pleasures. Her positive intent is to
preserve in him his ideal conception of
her. The more she becomes to him an
actuality the less he will love her. This
is not alone feminine reasoning but the
truth. Monsieur Daudet might confirm
it if he were only living. Since he is
dead and dust read the de Maupan's
tale.
continued my research after Camil-
les secrets. When she became volu-
BILE in her disclaimers of any knOwl-
edge of the opium vice, knew that L
must be near the truth.
Come" said, take me to where
you have been and have not"
She moved reluctantly. Griselda was
not more 10th to 20 forth than Camille.
Still | insisted. st Paul is so singularly
free from hidden vice that the finding
of an ulcer spot, which even the police
have not pricked.iS pleasure to now
tiate We went out of the house and
came upon the heated street. 1t was so
sitting one might have thought that the
heavy-faced moon was giving forth
heat. There was no one about to
spy upon us. The hour was close
on to in the morning. The night
fhoir nnafe
Over on a store step we saw one of the
merchant police, full to the gunwaleS,
with concealed happiness A friendly
city official was vainly trying to get him
I'D on his pedals. Camille turned her
| head away in disgust. Her gesture re-
minded me of how school girls fed from
the drunken de Brissac.
We came down West Third street,
| which in the early morning is like unto
d way i'll tine City of the Dead. There is
nothing OH or about it but memories of
once prosperous days. 1t is given over
now to the rack of the fruit vendors and
small shopkeepers. The street is so sad
ana silent that the stones of the ancient
! buildings seem to have voices and to
! cry out against their shame. Streets,
like men and women, Outlive their use
| fulneSs. But, unlike the humans, they
1
We were few doors above the ven
cradle Metropolitan hotel when Camille
stopped. She would not look me in the
face, but put out her hand to mine and
said:
"We go in here-if you wish"
| | looked up at the number. 1t was
| 1872, double doors, opening on to a
| dirty staircase, above that darkness.
The place is one of the old stone build
ingS land brick, too,) that forms the row
running west from the Metropolitan.
| On the windows of the door entrance
the worn legend runs FURNISHED rooms,
etc."
l took the Outstretched hand. and we
went in and up to the first floor and
then along nasty-smelling hall until
we came to a room numbered No. 106.
No one was moving about the place,
while the chill in the hall made it seem
like charnel house. Camille knocked
| very feebly at the door. Then L
heard the slipping of bolts and
| the creaking of hinges. Some one asked.
who is therep"
To which my companion replied:
II have card"
In the voluminous folds of her gown
! she found pocket, and out of this pro-
| duced a card that read like this: