The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1894-02-21
THE VENUS OF PARIS.

ne knew she would not abuse, and he took
pride in her social triumphs She had
few enemies. Her manners were sweet
and pleasing, and her position was far too
secure for any jealousy on her own part
She was not vain--the really beautiful are
seldom so, and if her triumphs were nee
essary to her life as the air of heaven Mt
least they were brilliant and great. She
made the art of being beautiful her whole
study. 1t became to her an absorbing in
terest, and admiration was to her as food
and drink. Nature had lavishly lowered
her with charms Her eyes, blue as the
sea, were the inspiration of the young po-
cts Of the capital; her lips were ideal, it
was said; her teeth were perfect, and her
bead the head of a goddess. Small won
dor perhaps that she should devote her
soul to the worship Of herself. Every one
encouraged her. The very people knew
her, and as she drove she heard sometimes
their words: "V'la In belle Comtessc!"
''V'la In Venus de Paris"
On her thirtieth birthday great terror
came into her life and would not be still
ed. Night and day it haunted her. 1t
came to her like spccter and stood for
ever before her, and sometimes it sat like
ice upon her heart.
A well known figure in Partisan society
OF the time was Il certain veteran, the
Marechal Boutigny.
He was grim and sinister. He spoke of
ten to Nine. Ia Comtessc of the great beau
ty of his own day, the famous Aurclie de
Frontignac.
"She is dead, is she nots" said she, one
night.
"To the world, Mime. In Comtesse"
She lives, then! She must he 70''
Madame shuddcrcd a certain palor
took her face and NJ lie Marechal gave his
grim laugh
without Doubt he said
"She was very beautifully" she asked
later, seeming fascinated by the subject
He saw once more the whitencss of her
face, and he smiled She shuddered again
M. le Marechal seemed in league with the
devil that haunted her.
Yes, madame he said
There was silence, and then she persist
ed
"More beautiful than I?''
Nay, that were impossible!" he said,
with grim galantry.
The cold fear Mt her heart goaded her
GAS beautiful"
"NImc. Ia Comtcsse will pardon her."
he said. "4turcie do Frontignac was as
beautiful
She moved away then and sought out
an old woman, the Duchcsse d'Avignon.
This lady was so, and her memory was
fresh and true.
She received the countess with open arms
and n ready compliment.
"Flattcuse," said the countess playful
ly, 81 do not deserve that. You must have
seen women fairer than I-Aurclic de
FrOntignac, for example"
"Ah, she was bcautifulr' cried the old
woman. eyes, my dear, you have had
one rival within my memory"
Then the countess knew what she wish
ed to know, and she passed on to her h,ls-
band: 81 am little tired, Jules wish
to go home"
In a certain village called Arbisson, not
many miles from Paris, stood big square
house within walls. The great gates were
kept firmly barred, and all communica-
tion with the outside world was carried
on through little side door. In the neg
lected garden old world flowers managed
to grow in rich disorder The golden mar
lgolds had sown themselves till in the
course OF years they had become flaming
sea, whose warm yellow was only height
ened in tone by contrast with the palcr
tint of the huge sunflowcrs that stood like
sentinels above. Ivics and crccpcrs grew
on the house itself, and wild convolvulus
bound the trees.
lost their curiosity rs to the woman who
lived her lonely life within those walls
Thirty years ago the house had been sud
denly bought, and lady and two serv-
ants had taken up their abode there, and
had since lived quietly on. For 10 years
the lady never left the grounds Old Pierre
Roget, the notary, had happened to be
passing when the occupants arrived, and
the word had gone round that the lady
was very beautiful CONNIE un rcve,"
he had said
But at the end of those 10 years it was
faded and gray haired woman who be-
gan to take her solitary walks The notary
had gone to his rest, and his words were
forgotten.
Though not far from Paris, this village
knew little Of the life of the great city,
and faces that were known in the capital
as the bust on a penny is known might
pass through the street of Arbisson unrec-
Ognized. Still the cure said that the sim
gle visitor who, perhaps once in year or
two, called ut the old house and was adj
mitted, was, he thought, the famous Mar
echal Boutigny, of whom they had all
heard. The servants told nothing, and
madame was hereto and did not attend
mass, so that the cure had no more claim
30 atmittance to her house than any of
the other inhabitants of the village, and
could boast no more knowledge of her than
they. He could only surmise that she was
some one of Importance who wished to
hide herself from the world.
There arrived one day in ArbissOn n
very smart carriage. The coachman drove
through the village, looking about him rs
one who seeks landmarks, and finally drew
up before the gates of the old house Here
tie occupant of the carriage, n lady close
1y yelled and in long cloak, alighted.