The Goodland republic. [volume] (Goodland, Kan.) 1891-1907, 1892-06-10

year. Now and again, when CASTOR was
In luck and had made few francs more
than his ordinary earnings from the news
papers. he rewarded the little Widows at
tentIOns by taking her to theatre, and gin
ing her an Ice or a supper In the Passage
JouffrOy before he escorted her home. He
treated her en- grand Setgneur on these Oc
caslOns, and these evenings were 10 Suzon
Michel as nights spent in paradise; hours Ia
dream about for weeks after they were gone
to long for with passionate longing. YET
they brought her no nearer to the man she
loved or to the realisation Of her hopes. MOI
a word was ever spoken Of love or marriage
When they parted on the steps Of the cren.
erie, while the bells Of Notre Dame were
Ginning one of the quarters after midnight,
they were as far apart as ever. II she was
ever to be Madame MOrtemar the offer OF
marriage must come from her own lips, Su
zon thought; and she would not have shrunk
from telling the man of her choice OF those
snug little investments, and her willing
ness to share her economies with him.
Feminine delicacy would not have hlndered
such an avowal; but there was something In
the man himself which sealed her lips.
CASTOR was as cold as Ice as calm as mar.
ble He had that amiable anguorot speech
and manner which clever young men are
apt to affect until. 1t becomes second ma.
ture. He talked like man who had lived
through every experience that life could of.
fer to reprobate youth, who had grown old
in evil before Time had written wrinkle
on his brow.
"Ah, but he has lived, that yOuthP' said
the knowing ones Of the quarter, "He has
squandered the patenal fortune on actress.
es and cocottes and now he has to write
for his bread"
The fact was that CASTOR MOrtemar had
never had napoleon to bestow upon any.
body, for good or evil He had worked for
his daily bread ever since he left the school
of Albert the Great, where he had been one
of the brightest pupils of the good Dominl-
cans. He had never been rich enough to be
prohlgate in grand way; and he was too
proud, too refined to stoOp to cheap vice.
Hew was, like Alfred de Musset, u Ggndy
born, created with refined tastes and lofty
aspirations but poverty had emblttcred
him. He had fed his mind with the writ.
ings of VlllOn and Voltaire and Rousseau
Theophile Gautler, Musset, Baudelaire, and
Flaubert. He was a cynlc to the marrow OF
his bones. He tried to surpass Voltaire in
acrlmOny, Rousseau in discomfort, and lash.
ed himself into fury when he wrote about
the great ones Of the earth.
One day he met Kathleen O'IIara In tue
morning sunshine, coming in from hor
marketing, just as he was going out to
breakfast, with neat gray gown and pale
blue neck-rlbbon, and basket of lettuce
and redishes on her arm; and he thought he
saw Greuze that had suddenly become
flesh and blood, and had walked out of Its
frame in the Louvre yonder, across the
shining river. He forgot his good manners,
and turned to look after her as she crossed
the yard and tripped up the steps of that
house which he had just left. He knew
that two girls occupied one half of the third
story, but they had kept themselves so close
that he had only seen the elder sister, once
bert was standing in her doorway, scenting
the morning air, and watching the goings
and comings of her neighbors. She and
CASTOR had long been on friendly terms, so
she gave him a little nod, and laughed as he
passed her door.
"Genttlle, n'eSt-ce pas, mon gGrcOnT she
screamed, in her shrill treble, with the
Boulevard st. Michel twang.
"Genttllei She is adorable" answered
CASTOR. rs 1t possible that such an angel
inhabits the same dull walls that shelter
meP"
Dangerous, Is it not? But she Is as good
as she Is pretty. A gentleman's daughter
too, though she and her sister have to work
for their bread, poor orphans. The father
was an Irish captain"
Irish p exclaimed Castor, with touch
of surprise. :