Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1891-02-09
A VOLUNTARY DEATH.


Louis had the deep eyes, the pale com
pleXion and the long and disheyeled hair
of all those young men who came to town
from the country to conquer glory
He was a writer. | soon found his name
in Sunday journals and reviews. and then
he began to write those short and exquisite
sketches which have made his reputation
Thus five years passed. when | met him
one day in the editors office of a journal
for which ! worked
Each OF us was as much pleased as the
other at thus meeting again; and after the
hrst w hat! Is that you? Is that your" we
stood facing each other, sh aking hands
ana exposing, in laugh of cordial delight,
our teeth, which in old times we used to
exercise on the same crust of poverty. He
had not changed. He had not even sacri-
feed his long hair, which he threw back
with the graceful movement of a horse
who losses his name. Only he had the
clear complexion and calm eve of a con-
tented man, and his slim figure was clad in
most fashionable costume
we won't drift apart again, will we?'
SAID ne ahectionately, taking me by the
arm; and he led me out in tie boulevard,
where the April sun gilded the young
leaves of the plane trees.
Don't you remembers" DO YOU re-
member the fried eggs which tasted of
straw, and the dreadful rice milk, the mel
ancholy air of your landlady, and the Ger
man who used to pawn his watch every
three months?'
Those days of hardship for Louis were
finished. He had from afar applauded my
success, as | had watched his But one
thing did not know, and that was that he
had married a woman whom he adored
and that he had a charming little girl.
Come and see them; you shall dine
with me"
let myself be persuaded, and he carried
me to pretty suburb, where he lived in a
cottage among the trees. There every
thing made you welcome. No sooner had
we opened the door of the garden than a
young dog frislled about our feet
Down, Dick! He will soil YOUR clothes. ~
But at the sound of the bell Mrs. Miraz
appeared at the steps with her little dauch-
ter in her arms. An imposing and beauti-
full blonde, her well nodded figure wrapped
in blue gown
Put on plate more. I've an old com
rade with me-
And the happy father, keeping his hat
on his head and caressing his little girl.
showed me all over his establishment-the
dining room, frightened by light bits of
faience; the study, Astounding in books,
with its window opening out on the green
turf, SO that a puff of wind had strewn
with rose leaves the printers proofs which
were scattered on the table
This IS only beginning, YOU know. 1t
wasn't so long ago that we were working
Tor three SOUS u line
And while luXuriated under a blossom
InFy Ind Il
Miraz, at ease in his home, had slipped
into his working vest, put on his slippers,
and, lying on his sofa, caught little Helen
In his arms to toss her in the air-'Houp
la! Houp Lar
l do not remember ever to have had a
more perfect impression of contentment.
We dIned pleasantly-two good courses,
That was all! dinner without pretense
where we served ourselves with the pepper
mill.
The charming wife presided with her
bright smile, having her child by her side
in high chair. She spoke but little. but
her sweet and intelligent attention fol-
lowed our light and paradoxicaI chat. the
Sood humored fooling of men of letters.
ana at the dessert she took rose from the
bouquet which ornamented the table and
placed it in her hair near her ear with n
ly and silent friend whom a dreamer re-
quires.
We took our coffee in the study-tbev
intended to furnish the sa on verv soon
with the price of story to be published
by Levy; then, as the evening was cool. n
fire of sticks and twigs was built. and
while we smoked, Miraz and l. RECALLING
old memories, the mistress of the house
holding on her knees little Helen, now
ready for bed, made her repeat ''Our Faith
er" and Hail Mary" which the little one
lisped, rubbing her little feet together be-
fore the warm flame.
We saw each other again, often at first,
then less frequently, the difficult and COM
plicated life of literary labor taking us
each his own way. So the years passed
We met, shook hands. Everything 60
ing well?" "Splendidly." And that was
all. Then, later, l found the name of
Louis Miraz but rarely in the journals
and periodicals. 'Happy man; he is rest
ing" said to myself, remembering that
he was spoken of as having made small
fortune Finally, last autumn, / learned
that he was seriously i'll.
/ hurried to see him. He still lived at
the pretty suburb; but on this somber day
of the last of November the little house
seemed cold, and looked max ed among the
leaf1ess trees. 1t seemed to me shrunken
and diminished, like everything that we
have not seen for long time.
The dog was probably dead, for his bark
no longer answered the sound of the bell
when passed the little gate and entered
the garden, all strewn with dead leaves
where the nights frost hao withered the
last chrysanthemums.
1t was not his wife-she was absent-it
was Helen who received me-Helen, who
had grown to be great girl of IA, with an
awkward manner. She opened for me the
door of her fathers study, and brusquely
lifting her great black eyelashes turned
on me timid and distressed glance
/ found Miraz huddled in an easy chair
in the corner of the fireplace, wrapped in a
sort of bedgown, with gray locks streak
ing his long hair, and by the cold, clammy
hand which he reached toward me, by the
pallid face whice he turned upon me, 1
knew that he was lost. Horri BILE! found in
my unhappy comrade that worn and ruined
look which used to strike us formerly
n - \