The great West. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1889-18??, 1893-03-24
WOMAN'S HALF PROFITS.

Fame in Athens and Florence took
the form of laurel, in London it is rep
resented by '.eaomeikes'' Hyacinth
ROndel, the very latest new poet. sat
one evening not long ago in his elegant
new chambers with a cloud of those
pleasant witnesses about him, as
charmed by 'sthe rustic of their loved
ApOllian leaves" as though they had
been veritable laurel or veritable bank
notes. His rooms were provided with
all those distinguished comforts and
elegancies proper to success that may
any moment be interviewed. Needless
to say, the walls had been decorated
by Mr.. Whistler and there was not a
piece of furniture in the room that had
not belonged to this or that poet de-
ceased. Priceless autograph portraits
Of all the leading actors and actresses
Uttered the mantelshelf with a reck-
less prOdigality; the two or three choice
etchingS were, of course, no less con-
spicuously inscribed to their illustrious
confrere by the artists-na turally, the
very latest Matched in Paris There was
hardly a volume in the elegant Chip
pendale bookcases not similarly in
scribed. Mr.. Rondel would as soon
have thought Of buying a book as Of
paying for STALL To the eye Of i'm
agination, therefore, there was not an
article in the room which did not carry
a little trumpet to the distinguished
poets honor and glory. Hidden from
view in his buhl cabinet, but none the
less vivid to his sensitive egOism, were
those tenderer trophies OF his power
(spoils of the chase) which the adoring
feminine had offered up at his shrine,
all his love letters sorted in periods,
neatly ribboned and snugly enscGnced
In various sandalwOOd nicheS-much
as urns are ranged at the crematorium,
WOking-and locks of hair of many col
ors. He loved most to think of those
letters in which the women had gladly
sought a spiritual suffice, and begged
him to cement the stones of his temple
of fame with the blood of their de-
voted hearts. To have had share in
building so distinguished a life-that
was enough for them! They asked no
such announcement reward as marriage.
Indeed, one or two of them had al
ready obtained that boon from others.
To serve their purpose, and then, if
1t must be, to be forgotten, or-wild
hope-tO be embalmed in a sonnet Sc
Quence-that was reward enough.
Terar dun prosim.
1t was in the midst of this silent and
yet so eloquent orchestra, which from
morn to night was continually crying
.'Glory, glory. glory" in the ear of the
self-enamored poet, that Hyacinth Ron
del was sitting one evening. The last
POSTPAID brought him the above-men-
toned bundle Of the Romeike laurel,
and he sat in his easiest chair by the
bright fire adjusting it upon his high
brow decanter at his right hand and
cigarette smoke curling up from his
left. At last he had drained all the
honey from the last paragraph, and,
with rustling. shining head, he turned
sweeping. triumphant gaze around his
room. But, to his surprise, he found
himself no longer alone. Was it the
muse in dainty modern costume and
delicately tinted cheek? Yes! 1t was
one of those discarded muses. which
sometimes remain upon the poets
hands as fates.
When she raised her veil she GER
tainly looked more of Fate than a
Muse. Her expression was not agreea-
BILE The poet, afterward describing
the incident and remembering his
Dante spoke of her in an allegOrical
sonnet as 'T4ady of terrible aspect"
and symbolized her as Nemesis
He now addressed her as annette"
and in his voice were four notes of ex-
clamatiOn. She came closer to him,
and very quietly, but with an accent
that was the very quintessence OF
IbseniSM. made the somewhat mercan-
tile statement: II have come for my
half profits
Half profits! What do you mean?
Are you mad?'
Not in the least! I want my share
in the profits of all this pretty poetry"
and she contemptuously ran her finger
over the several slim volumes on the
poets shelves which represented his
own contributions to English literature.
Rondel began to comprehend, but he
was as yet too surprised to answer
Don't you understands she went
on "It takes two to make poetry like
yours
"'They steal their song the lips that
sing
From lips that only kiss and cling
Do you remember? Have I quoted cor
rectly? Yes, here it ISL taklng down a
volume entitled "Liber Amoris," the
passionate confessional which had first
brought the poet his fame. AS a mat
ter of fact, several ladies had stood
for this series, for the poet had art
fully generalized them into one SUI
preme Madonna, whom Annette be-
lieved to be herself Indeed, she had
furnished the warmest and most tragic
coloring. Rondel. however, had for
some time kept his address a secret
from Annette But the light set upon
a hill cannot be hid; fame has it's dis
advantages. TO a man with creditors,
or any other form of "a past" it is no
little dangerous to have his portrait in
the Review Of Reviews. A well known
BY some such means Annette had
found her poet. The papers could not
be decorated with views Of his verse
and she not come across some of
them Indeed, she had. with burning
cheek and stormy bosom, recognized
herself in many an intimate confession.
1t was her hair, her face. all her
beauty, he sang. though the poems
were dedicated to another.
She turned to another passage as she
stood there ''How pretty it sounds in
poetry" she said, and began to read:
There in the odorous meadowsweet after.
With the lark like the dream of song III
the dreamy blue.
All the air abeat with the wing and buzz
of June,
We met-she and 1, and she (You and l.
I and you)
Here Rondel at last interrupted: