The Lamar register., 1892-12-31

tents of a little white paper that he
took from his pocket into the sugar
already placed in the cup for his
wife
He had scarcely resumed his seat
and his paper when she entered the
room, her hands full OF flowers and
her face full of concern that she had
kept her husband waiting SO long.
II am truly halfstarved," she cried,
and you were right, Jacques, not to
wait for me longer. There's a man,
too. from the board OF physicians
calling for you now downstairs at the
door,"
And the doctor, anxious as he was
to see his wife to drink the coffee, was
Obliged to rise and go and see what
the messenger wanted, while Nine.
fleurnois threw off her bonnet, laid
aside her flowers, and took her seat at
the table.
As she did so she glanced, with the
instinct OF housekeeper. at her hus-
bands cup; something black was
floating on the liquid, a bug or insect
OF some kind, shaken probably from
her roses, and helplessly bobbing
about in the steaming fluid. She took
ed the coffee into the saucer as she
did it in way that still more Offend
ed her tastidious eye.
"Really, it was too badi What
mess she had made OF it, And no
time, with Jacques so hurried, to have
him a fresh cup drawn. All she had
it-she didn't mind for once a splash
or two while Jacques was always SO
particular"
The exchange was made, the coffee
drunk and Nine. Fleurrois all ready
to help her husband to a fresh piece
of omelet when he returned to the
table, as he did in a moment to swal
low his coffee at a gulp and hastily eK-
cuse himself
Fresh cases had broken out in the
suburbs and he must go at once. He
wouldn't return for lunch, but she
could look for him at dinner"
And the doctor, with strange,
wild glance at his wife's empty cup,
turned and was gone.
Left alone, Mime. Fleurnois fidgeted
and pottered about the neat little
apartment, and finally went into the
kitchen to make strong stock soup
for dinner. Jacques didn't seem well,
she thought, and would be sure to
neglect his lunch, and need something
strengthening. H<w white he looked,
too, poor fellow, when he went away.
And all day long the wild eyes and
drawn lines of her husbands face, as
she had seen him last, haunted her
| memory, and made her restless and
uneasy.
Six, seven, eight and far into the
night the little table. with its flowers
and its delicate larded roast, remained
set and waiting for the master who
did not come. Instead. there came
with daylight a rap at the door, and
a messenger from the project OF police
npprising her that her husband would
never return. Dr. Fleurnois was dead,
seized by the plague that he had
fought SO gallantly, and so far with
impunity.
They could not send for her OF
course, and in accordance with sani-
tary laws then in force, she could not
even claim the body. DR.. Fleurnois,
in fact, was then buried.
"A hero and a martyr, madame,
the project added to the cause OF suf-
iering humanity"
To-day, as "hero and a martyr"
Nine. Fleurnois continues to mourn
her husband and to view with pride
the medal OF honor sent her as his rep
resentative, which hangs in her prime
little drawing room in the prim little
drawing room in the prim little New
England village to which she speedily
returned. She remembers nothing but
the days OF self-devotion and self-sac-
rifice that they spent together in
plague-ridden Marseilles and is hap
PLY still ignorant of the fact that sh
owes her own escape from death at
the "hero's" hands to the simple ac-
cident of a bug in cup OF coffee
New York Mercury.