Los Angeles herald., 1892-04-06
THELAUREL WREATH

ON Ino pOuSnou uOOr Lne ught from the
wood fire danced merrily between the
reflections of the furniture; the lace
curtains hung white and soft, with here
and there q rent skillfully darned be.
tween a leaf and flower, while beyond
the curtains was seen the neatly trimmed
garden hedge.
Then as looked at my friend, stout,
calm and smiling, and remembered
what he had been when I saw him last
excitable, high strung, music mad, his
nervous system like treble string that
is ready to snap-I became convinced
that he spoke the truth-he was per-
fectly happy. Nothing in his surround
ings indicated artistic tastes, unless
perhaps the piano, though that was
closed so as to be utilized for holding
vases Of fresh flowers, and above it,
hanging to the wall by faded blue rib
bon, was what looked like the skeleton
of wreath, for single leaf, the last
remaining one, showed that it had been
made Of branch of laurel
The sight awoke my memories, and
while Mark Antony poked the fire my
thoughts went back to the night of his
triumph. In his "Virgilian Symphony"
he had set to music the very soul of the
poet, combining in tempest of orches-
tration the Bucolics and the Eneid-the
lowing Of cattle, the signing of pine
trees in the wind, the soft murmurs of
fountains, then the trumpet blasts of
Trojan warriors and the love sobs of the
deserted Tyrian queen. That night, in
the midst Of thunders of applause, an
unknown woman, beautiful as a god
dess, had presented to the young COM
poser, who was pale with pride and hope,
this laurel branch, plucked for him, it
was said, from Virgil's grave.
Unmindfu1 of that night, Mark An
tony poked the fire vigorously. GLOW
odd," he said, 'that you should have
stumbled against me by chance in this
out of the way corner of France! You
wonder how came toexile myself? In
deed, I hardly know, but one day sud
denly decided to go out of town for a
little while-just month or so-for
was sick of Paris with its rush and fever,
of the endless routine of an artists life,
of weeks that had no Sundays nor an
interval of rest.
81 set off by rail and stopped here
merely because the name of the place
pleased me; it seemed to promise land
of calm forgetfulness, of lazy rivers, of
willow trees, of peaceful hills whose
tops were crowned with mists. l was
mt dfco y,v,pir%ol 1>y,f +ho
tive of the charms I found here was the
novel sensation of hearing distinct
sounds breaking complete silence; I was
tired of the Internal din of Paris, q
thousand roars combined in one, and
never ceasing, and was thrilled with
delight by the music of village church
bell, the ringing of an anvil, the sound
Of the women washing clothes in the
brook and the report of sportsman's
rifle on the hillside.
"Fate ordained that should meet an
old college mate. He was living as q
gentleman farmer on his family estate,
and had niece who was pretty girl,
not very rich, it is true, but we pleased
each other in an unromantic way, and
were married. It was not by any means
my intention to give up Paris entirely.
On the contrary, we spent two winters
there. The third year, however, our
courage failed, for my wife was not
very strong, and I, in my loose slippers
and corduroy jacket, thought gloomily
of always dining in evening dress and
making and receiving endless calls of
yawning in the theater night after night.
"Then thS1e were the children to thinl,
of, and we ought to economize. So, lit
tie by little, was weaned from city
life, until at Last seemed to see Paris
through mist, and now it is to me
far distant place, to which do not know
the way. I am thoroughly provincial.
I have my wife, my children, "a small
circle of friends who do not exact re-
turn in kind for every courtesy. shoot
a little, fish little, cut down my hay
and put it in my barn. That has been
my life for the last ten years"
"And the musicp' I asked.
'@Oh, have not given it up entirely"
he said, with smile of embarrassment;
''that portfolio in the corner is nearly
full. I have begun several great works,
but nothing is finished, for somehow,
between ourselves, L find that the in
toHcating Paris air is necessary for in
spiration. Your presence, however, will
do just as well, and shall set to work
in earnest"
"Poor Mark Antony" thought. At
that moment the door knocker sounded.
I heard the servant go through the hall,
and then a lady of prepossessing appear
ance entered the room, preceded by two
little boys dressed in sailor suits, their
cheeks Like rosy apples and their calves
scratched and sunburned.
'.My wife," said Mark Antony, pre-
senting us to each other, and the lady,
after bidding the children shake hands
with me, asked if would not stay to
dinner.
ssOf course he will, not only today
but every day as long as he remains
here!" exclaimed my friend joyfully,
and his wife echoed his cordial words,
though a cloud of dismay passed over
her face.
"We have nothing but a stew for din
ner today" she said; perhaps you will
not like it. My husband told me how
to make it, with pork, wine and spices.
I am rather successful with it, think"