The Portland daily press., 1894-08-28
THE Wit OF man.

I met her at a garden party, not joyous
gathering of tennis players and girls
laughing to the sun, but the gloomy affair
of the morbidly select In bright red she
blossomed with all the sweets of woman
magioally feminine. Her crisp, black hair
seemed ready to fly out against conven-
tionalities, against hats particularly, and
her brown eyes were golden with the joy of
life. Wit had chiscled her features, so excel
lently irregular in the roundness of their
curves, to pointed nose and chin. could
not but enjoy as relief from all the elab-
crate angles of her stiff surroundings, the
rapid undulations of her 1.-THE figure, her
expressive arms, dancing little feet, as she
sat there, a wild gypsy, fashionable and
polished, but still unframed by society.
Pouting like SOME playful child over les
sons, her mouth rigidly set against the
Pickering dimples of irrepressible laugh
ter, she listened to the pompous old Duo
de Retz or answered his wise sentences at
random, with a wave of her hand.
esWho is she?" | inquired of NJ Pimo-
dan de st. Ouen, a walking edition of LIE
Tout Paris. tightly bound in frock coat.
why, that is la belle Comtesse de
Crequy de Canaples. A widow, mon cher,
young, rich.
And he retired, as Nine. de Canaples
smiled up at me with her humorous eyes.
Her voice was huently musical as she gay
ly said, ssWe are not quite strangers, for
have met your charming sister at the Plot
Chadieus" Before could frame COM
pliment she suddenly added, do you
love her?"
ssWho?''
''Your sister, of course. like every man
to love his sister
well, hope do"
"You only hopel Are you an English
mani"
More or less 2
LESS, decidedly less. An English
man with blue eyes like yours should not
only be honest and brave, but sure, sure
of everything"
When called next day, Nine de Can
aples was in her boudoir. She listened to
my reading, silently, attentiyely, almost,
lit seemed, reverently, and when left the
house after dinner I felt very great. The
next morning we met in the Bots and rode
together. The same night we danced a
cotillon at Nine de Plot Chandler Fate
seemed determined to make US meet, and
perhaps we helped her.
If man and woman see much of each
other, they invariably talk of themselves,
wax sentimental by waltz music and i'm
agine themselves in love after supper. But
/ am tired of firtations, sick of telling a
woman, whom I only admire, that I love
her. So one evening, as we discussed SEN
timent over pate de foie gras, told her
how much I regretted that two great
minds should slavishly follow the exam
pie of the stupid. She agreed. 'sIf we
remain on cur present footing, one of us
may fall in love- She opened her inno-
cent eyes, smiling. Yes" I continued,
sin love. What else can happen? Where
as if we go off somewhere together and
live naturally, unconstrained by the
world, we shall know ourselves truly and
enjoy a few days of rest +"
ssOh, the wit of man!'' she cried, gayly
; clapping her hands, her whole face beam
ing with delight.
The next evening we started by rail for
Fontainebleau. Soon we were both fast
asleep, only to wake at our destination.
She took room at one hotel, / at another.
The next day we drove in the forest, si-
lently watching the royal trees till our
eyes grew tired and we fell asleep. We
staid there fortnight, driving, sleeping,
barely saying word and yet quite happy.
When we were back in Paris, she asked,
Sand why did we go to Fontainebleau for
that?"
Because" I replied, lat Fontaine-
bleau we kept regular hours, allowed our
selves no cerebral excitement, drank no
champagne, heard no one whisper, Little
Castlehigh is awfully in love with Nine.
de Cananles. or The countess is decided