The morning call., 1892-11-20
CHAPTER TX.

eNeDlIui. 1t 0dU known no more Shifting
scenes than such as usually take place on
the estate of country nObleman, proud Of
his lineage and liberal with his fortune.
Entrusted TO the care Of an old Italian
priest, Franz grew up with but glimmer-
Ing notion OF the great outside world. When
scarcely fifteen he had had the misfortune
to lose his Their, and five years later his
father was killed while hunting The young
Count was now absolutely alone in the
world, but so endeared TO him was this
ragged corner of the earth that three years
were yet to elapse before he could bring
himself 10 turn his back upon it, 10 bid
adieu 10 tenants and serving people who
had grown old 10 his fathers service. But
whittier should he go?
His mastery Of the Italian language natur-
ally Influenced him to visit Italy 1t would
not be like entering a strange land and
listening TO a strange tongue. Rotzko, his
sole companion. had been for ten years in
his fathers service. He could be trusted
like his own flesh and blood.
Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples were
in turn reached in his wanderings Their
glories, ancient and modern, touched him
deeply. He became profound student of
art, and when. at the age of 81 he was
about leaving the last named city for a
brief visit to his old home in the Roumanian
mountains. something happened that was
destined to set another tint upon the nat
ural hue of his resolutions. 1t so hap
pened that at this time there was a
celebrated singer al tie San Carlo Theater.
Stilla by name, whose voice was delighting
the dilettanti, She was only % aud divinely
beautiful. her eXQuisitely shaped head be-
ing wreathed with a wealth Of golden hair,
aud her large black eyes filed with a name
less fascination. A Praxiteles could not
have shaped a fairer form. And vet
rumoT had ii that this glorious creature had
never felt the need of that sentiment which
men deem so necessary TO a woman'S hap
pness, that she only lived for her art that
that her art was both earth and heaven to
her.
Tie first time that Franz looked upon La
Siilia he loved her; he felt that she filed
the long vacant niche ia his heart as il
created for il, and he resolved to stay In
Naples TIL the end of the season. And vet
do what he might, La Stilla's door remained
closed against him. Franz soon became
the most wretched of men. the more so by
the knowledge which was not slow in
reaching him that he was not alone il the
field For six years man Of 80 TO IS had
literally been shadowng La Stilla
Where she would sing lie was sure
10 be, whether in Rome, in Florence
or IN Naples. 1t really seemed as
II La CllIld voice DHu CecOme ike
the osphere-absolutely necessary TO
this mans existence. But it was her voice
and nothing else that eDthralled him. for
never had he been known to dog her foot
steps or present himself at her door. And
yet let La Stllla be billed to sing and this
silent wOrshiper of her art, tall, mysterious,
in long coat and wide bTimmed hat was GER
tain TO fall in line before the ticket-ofice.
La Stilla herself had been lnQpistlve enough
TO institute Inquiries as to who the stranger
mil 81 NJ
him in the dimY lighted corner Of his box,
she could feel that he was there, she could
feel that his mysterious eyes were riveted
upon her
Strange to say, the man exercised two
fold influence upon her-he inspired her and
he terrified her, he appalled, and he COM
forted her. But this wizard. this man OF
mystery, had his familiar spirit. One
Orfank, whom people took 10 be scientist,
an impoverished inventor. a man of
schemes, encouraged and sustained by his
rich patron. Orfanik was low of stature,
thin and knuckly, always very pale and
never without q green patch over his right
eye. which had been lost, doubt, in some
sudden explosion OF gases or bursting of re-
tort. Nor was he ever without his glasses,
or rather his glass, to which bis left eve
lent greensh tinge. He was one of those
men who talk TO themselves and gesticulate
while so doing.
When Franz de Telek asked for the name
Of this Veritable melomaniac, the only rival
whom he seemed to dread, they simply re-
piled:
He is Roumanian ana his name is De
GOTtZ-Baron R0dolphe de G0rtz"
And so things went on. Every time La
Stllla sang Franz In love with the woman,
was sure TO be seated in an orchestra seat,
while the Baron, mute w0rshiper OF her
glorious voice. sat half hidden in the depths
oil his box. Now was it that all Naples was
startled By rumor. La Stilla. in the very
plenltude OF her power, the very bloom of
her beauty, was about to abandon the stage
The truth was that Baron Rodolphe. like
q flesh and blood specter, had from the
shadowy depths Of his box succeeded in
setting blight upon the singers heart.
The moment she caught glimpse Of him a
strange chill crspt over her. Her hearts
blood clogged IN its course. She sang her
part through. but it was at the bidding of a
him' Fly to RomeP He would be
there. To Venice? He would follow
her like her shadow. To France? To
Russia? He would be there too. Death
might free her from him, but even 1t might
fall Was il not natural for her to listen TO
the soothing words Of so strong and brave
lover as Franz de Telek? This is what she
did. She threw herself into his arms.
Here al least she would be safe from this
flesh and blood specter. He would not be
able to cross the threshold of that grand old
home OF the Counts Of Telek, guarded by
30 many strong arms. girt round by so
many hundreds of loyal tenantry.
The news OF the approaching marriage
Jet loose storm of Indignation against
Franz He was accused of having COM
United the meanest OF crimes-of robbing
Italy OF her beloved child of art, of snatch
ing away from the dilettanti their beautiful
idol. OF prOfanDg the temple of the MUSES..
There was rumor that the marriage would
he followed by one death at least that the
flesh and blood specter would take ON
more fitting garb and by suicide transform
himself into a thing of eyeless sockets and
feshless hands, stealing forever after the
fair bride and calling upon her to sing, to
sing, TO siDgi From now on the familiar
spirit was ever in attendance on the grim
wizard. Orfanik, on each opera night, sat
beside his master in the box
At last came La Stila's farewell, Not
ten San Carlos would have suffieed to hold
the people who clamored for admission
There were threats of violence against Franz
de Teiek; be was to be slain. but not until
La Stllla's voice had died away in the last
act On this night the singer seemed to
break away from the dread spell set upon
her by the grim baron and his one-eved at
tendant spirit seated in the gloom Of their
lair. Never had her voice sounded 40
heavenly, never had her art been so perfect.
The enthusiasm was indescribable
1t was genuine delirum. Behind
the scenes the young Count strobe up and
down awaiting the end with Unsurpassed
iHpa |icnCO' q tiuicb Ho Cuubu scarcely re-
strain himself from rushing upon the stage
and dragging the loved being away, out of
the sight Of the whole world, out Of the
reach of these senseless admirers off to
his far-away home, where she would be his
and his alone. And now the last scene was
reached She was TO die, but first to pour
out her Vory soul In one burst of glorious
song. II ally seemed as IL her passion WAS
too great. that it must kill her In
good earnest Suddenly The grating
Of the grim Baron's box is lowered, and
head is thrust forward, head crowned
with a huge crest of grissled hair, face
palid as death but aglow with eyes of un-