The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-02-05
CARRIE CARELESS
Reads a French story Which She
Thinks VIII Pear Translation.
(C1pUrfght1

/ AIuDuTl1ftt-l
New YORK, Feb. 4 Ten of US girls have
formed a French club. We meet once a
week and read the short stories of writers
Of different schools People are skeptical
about our system Of Analysing French lit
erature, and ask if We translate aloud. We
say we don't because we're agreed we learn
less when we give an English version.
| But when we discover what we think the
most marked characteristic of an author we
write in English the story in which we
| found it, so we won't forget.
Catulle Mendes is the last man we ana
lyzed. There are difficulties about studying
Catulle and in putting his most marked
characteristic in good, plain English l, for
one, gave uD looking for a sketch which
contained it in such a mild form that it
would be suited 10 our columns.
Therefore l have translated one which
shows his second best convictions, convic-
tions OF hopelessness, cynicism, despair. It's
pretty story, and yet it made US shiver a
little as we read:
'DoN'T PLAY WITH CINDERS."
By Catulls Mendes.
Must we say that Nine. Valentine de Ter
mouse has reached that certain age when
the first silver tAreads run through black
life when woman is still young Horri-
bic moment But kAe is pretty, although a
tritie stout, with heS seductive curves. II
she has refused to go 10 the first night OF
the Glass Distaff, - Ii with the end of the
| tongs she traces figures in the ashes, it is
not because she has grown hopelessly old in
80 years. She feels tired and nervous, what
you will She had said to her husband
You are unbearable." She had dis
missed her maid, and, determined to
die with ennui, she had fallen into q
deep chair with little yawn. Nine o'clock
struck. Then IL was quiet again except for
the monotone of the clock and for Vaen-
tine, who dreamed, wrapped in a silken
dressing gown, through which CLEANED here
and there rosy whiteness. Lifting her foot
she touched with the tip of her satin slipper
the Rrmor OF a coat of mail. Then she
turned slowly in her chair, with a pretty
sound Of silk, and yawntnR still, stretched
out her arm, white as her laces, until one
could see the plump nakedness of her
| shoulders Then leaning her head against
the chair Valentine dreamed again.
OF her husband? Sometimes, incident
ally. OF her lovers She had none, and
wished none. She was busy with the past.
There is nothing SO charming as that which
is no more. Before she was Valentine de
Ternouss she had been simply Valentine.
She had been an actress before she was
countess.
1t WIS an old story, well-known once, for
gotten to-day. She alone remembered it.
She had never had much talent She had
been vIrtuOus or nearly so, with that relat-
i've virtue which was sufficient to establish
a good reputation for woman of the
| theatre. Then NJ. de Ternouse came and
married her. In all this nothing brilliant
nor unusual. What is IL, then, which can
draw and hold Valentine among the things
lnF 10 - -
known. Then Valentine had loved, long,
very long ago-ten years, twelve years,
! twenty years, perhaps. Very young and
little known, she played the ingenue IN the
theater and the lover in real life. He, Au-
relian, was employed in the mayors Office
He made 100 francs a month and wrote
vaudevilles on official paper. To-day
he is famous. He has succeeded in
the theater and the boudoir. For
| love of him q woman blew out the brains
OF her husband, ami he had made of this ad-
venture @ comedy which opened the doors Of
| the Academic Francaise Once his princi-
pal duty was to open the door of the build
ing which held her future glory, glory she
| never won.
But they were happy in that time Of
| misery. They went together to q little
| creamery every morning. She ate roll
! with cup Of chocolate and he, with the
economy due to love, late nothing, so greatly
! was he occupied Ia watching the grace with
which Valentine prepared the bread or
blew in grave manner on the hot liquid.
In the evening he went TO the theeter to
| applaud with m1dness her whom he, au-
| thor Of the future, considered the Rachel
| Of the future. .. tae heavenly walks after
| the play along the outer boulevards, in the
! mud, under the stars. How they
| loved How young they were! Their
poverty even, tenacious and cruel, bowed
| TO their love. They had smiled together,
| they wept togeth r. Inc caain lee 1miug
/ heavier becama more sJlid; caprice wes
/ passion. They were sad, discouraged, Bicz
end deicloasiy sastsded Everything had
| gone FOR tbs orst, every ching would 90 for
/ TIE better and whs5 joys. lii the midst OF
| sorrows, On Sunday, WHEN they were
! rich, they went to Fesinet. There were in
| Nesinet little groves, AID here and there
| ravines They dlned at "a tiny iuu, near a
| field.
Have you noticed that often all the
! memories of ma y years OF Joy or sorrow
| gather in one memory, happy or unhappy
| 4 little room Oh the first floor or the inn
the inn is there still, but the lovers come
! 40 more-was, for Valentine, the point
/ where mingled all her memories. Why!
! What was there so wonderfully charming
in this room! Had they been happy no.
| where elssl She knew not, but she could
never think of Aurehan without thinking
! Ct this room too She saw again the white
wood door, the walls where damp had faded
long strips Of dingy paper, the two chairs,
the little table and the little bed with cur
tains OF pink calico! All this was poor
enough and very homely. but the green
country laughed and love bloomed in their
young souls.
The instant the servant had gone with the
order for a very moderate supper they en-
braced madly ,fhe wishing to lift her veil,
! she resisting to make him more loving.
All The lovely, the sweet, the good little
room! How Valentine longs to be there
again, and how many years ago it hap
pened, and how old she is nowl Old No.
She lifts herself, looks into the mirror and
smiles. Certainly if he should see her
again he would recognize her at once. She
had been dreadfully thin, now she has
grown stout. that is all. She was curious
TO know what he would say about her form,
| which is much better now. But Of what is
she drea ningl There had been many long
years since they had met She lives very
quietly. She is horribly bored. He is hap
Ply. She ought to go to the theater. to the
ball; she would see him sometimes. Is he
always hGudsomel She would swear it.
All" she cried, ST will think no more
about it. Ny husband is an excellent man.
l have lost my head dreaming. !, an cid
woman of my young girls love! See him
again! What an idea! In the first place it
is impossiblep