Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1893-07-20

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ment to supply some work. and eoald
not run away and leave II for whims Of
q dreamer ht for hysterical woman.
per bacco- told myself. "Pay no
attention to the thingi Letns be man.
what, the deuceg"
And returned home that evening IS
usual, after having dined and visited the
cafe.
Ihad planned TO work hard that even
ing. in order to make haste TO finish.
| Having entered the house / made As
usual an inspection Of the apartment
and found everything as befbre. Not
even chair out of place. Then went
into my study and lighted the gas. to be-
| gin work.
But as soon as seated myself at the
desk and cast o glance upon the manu-
script where had left OF writing, o
marvellous. amazing surprise awaited
me.
You must know that was writing a
novel-oh, what q novel; Something
fine, exceptionally finel A romance like
that surely no one ever wrote. The
real and the fanciful, the romantic, the
classic, the naturalistic. were skillfully
mingled in it.
Now that day when went out had
interrupted the story at a very interest
ing point, and the period ended thus:
HE burst into sonorous laugh Of
scorn;. he was very sure that the time of
phantoms and specters was long pasti
That apparition then gave him no fear.
1t must be trick"
/ had left it there.
Taking up the pen In order to con-
tinue, with my good cigar lighted in my
mouth, / cast my eyes on the paper, and
what did seer
Just heavensi What indeedi
Directly below the last line written by
me had been written one word only:
Fooll There it was, ironical and men
acing, in Gothic letters, which showed
the handwriting of former age.
Who had traced this scornful and
moclring word? You can imagine wheth-
er / remained amazed. Twill say even
more-I felt an impression of terror.
My servant did not know how to read or
write. No one had come into the house
during the day. Then by whom had the
words been written?
grew hvid and felt myself shudder.
Isprang to my feet. l felt the hair
stand on end upon my head and cold
perspiration trickle down my forehead
Tic, the accursed stuffed cat, looked
fixedly at me, and his green eyes seemed
to dilate and become variegated with
thousand colors. But was that cat
really stuffed? Or was he not rather
alive by virtue Of some witchcraft2
All at once reused myself. / had a
feeling of shame and rage; and furious,
striking with heavy fist on the writing
desk, exclaimed:
"But who is the demon who has writ
ten this word? l would like to know
him to twist his neck"
If 1 were to live a thousand years,
shall never forget what happened then.
| Ihad hardly finished speaking those
words when the study resounded with
mocking laughter--dry, strident, infer
nal.
| Then the wall opened suddenly, and
there came forth woman wrapped in
q great black mantle. And Tic, the &C
cursed cat, made a leap from his pillar,
and mewing as he had never mewed in
his lifetime went to rub himself against
that mysterious being.
| l drew back more dead than alive.
| Still, had enough presence of mind tc
stretch hand behind me, open drawer
of the desk and take out loaded re.
volver. As soon as had seized the
weapon I felt safer.
| raised my arm and pointed the re-
volver at that being, with the exclama-
ton:
"Now, we will see who you are!"
Alasl Once, twice, thrice / touched the
trigger, but the revolver was no longer
obedient.
The mysterious figure made two steps
toward me. The black mantle that en-.
folded her fell to the floor.
| What a fearful sightl It was not a
man nor woman. Itwas skeletons
skeleton with two lights flaming in its
empty, cavernous eye sockets-a skeleton
that laughed satanically, while the cal
Tic made fantastic and wild leaps.
It vast was Deathl
In the morning they found me insensi.
Bile in my den. The servant ran to cal
| a physician, who found me in q high
fever. My family fastened from the
country. was taken care of, treated
and cured. But the fact remains, my
hair had turned gray.
4 When was able to return to my den
the cat Tic was no longer there. My
wife had made a coup d'etat and sent il
to be thrown into the river. The column
had also disappeared. It had been given
away, I do not know to whom.
/ My manuscript was, however, still In
it's place. Only the word "Foolr' was nc
longer there.
4 Then it had not been written?
Still I was very sure of having read it
Who knowss If the cat Tic had still
been there, perhaps he could have tolt
me. But poor Tic was there no more.
Then, what am to think?
Whatshall believer Translated From
the italian For Short Stories.
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