The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-05-18
MY SUICIDE.
Yes, I have wished to die.

ious coquette? Only think of it. She
held my life in her little hand, and I am
net now even sure of her name. Young
men, this may astonish You, but you
will learn better in time.
I was young then-quite young, and
1 no sooner learned of my misfortune
than l determined to end my life. My
first intention was to shoot myself on
her stairway, but l bethought me of the
crowds that would see me there and of
how Henriette-was not that her name?
would ridicule me. SO my amour pro-
pre- came to my rescue.
NO" l said to myself, "there must
be no excitement, nonoise. The wound
ed bird conceals himself behind a tuft
of grass. Thus l wish to die-in some
corner-isolated, lost, forgotten"
In this eleglac frame of mind l took
the $50 train for Melun. 1t deposited
me at dusk, about 100 steps from the
Golden Lion-a well kept hotel, with
airy rooms, good beds and an excellent
table.
"What does monsieur w1sh?" asked a
little waitress, whom I have since found
to be very pretty.
Nothing"
was not hungry. / went to bed. Ny
sleep was fitful, and every instant l
thought 1 saw Victorine-I believe her
name was Victorine-pass by on the
arm of my rival.
Then l struck out with my fist against
the wall, the iron bedstead or the mar
BILE top tale.
Twas much bruised next morning, but
what mattered it, since | was SO soon to
die?
went in quest Of a rope. 1 had be-
lieved formerly that, when one wished
to hang oneself, nothing could be easier
than to find a rope. A sad mistake. In
my search 1 traversed the entire hotel
to no purpose. The little waitress
the one whom I have since found is so
pretty-demanded of me:
"But what does monsieur wish to do
with a roper"
At last, with a length of hemp in my
pocket, l left the hotel and made my
way to a spot in the woods where I had
often been before. l found here, behind
an inextricable tangle of foliage, the
anne inviting retreat where I had once
fingered to dream. There could certain
ly exist, no more appropriate spot for
the deed l now contemplated.
While walking along I had thought
Of Berthe possibly her name was
Berthe-and l cursed her with all my
soul. Then 1 looked at my rope. I meas
ured it. Itested its strength. 1t was not
the sort of a rope I wished. It appeared
to be too short and too large around. 1
was vexed. You can scarcely imagine
how an annoyance of this sort may in
fuence ones ideas.
And here was another vexation. Upon
reaching the chosen spot I was disagreea-
bly, surprised to find it occupied by an
other. A person, with his back turned
to me, was engaged in fastening a rope
to a branch above his head-the very
branch which I had selected for nv
own.
What are you doing there?' I de-
manded of him.
He faced me suddenly.
"What concern of yours is it?'' he
asked.
you think perhaps that I do not di-
vine your intention, " I cried.
"And if l wish to kill myself that is
altogether my affair"
Kill YOURSELF"
I looked at him He seemed to be an
amiable young fellow, with an open
countenance, sympathetic eyes and an
interesting pallor.
$50 you wish to kill yourself" And
~suspecting him to be the victim of an
unhappy love affair, I added, "About
some worthless woman?'
"Sirp' he cried.
Poor idiotr' I thought. Lowers are
all alike-he defends her even yet"
The stranger was silent.
will you permit me to give you a
bit of advice?"I inquired. Leave your
rope where it ISL had noticed that
it was better than mine-'tgo home.
You will thank me for this after
awhile"
He shook his head.
II want to die"
Don't prepare any poignant regrets
for the morrow" I continued, with
sweet insistence. "Irepeat what I have
said After you are buried you will be-
moan your precipitancy, and then it will
be too late"
"You say this because you do not
know what has happened to me-"
"But I suspect"
mo, you cannot have even a suspi-
cion. Oh, sir, a woman whom I adored,
for whom
And he told me his story. Incredible
coincidence It was absolutely my own!
This comparison set me thinking. "Your
silence shows me your approval, " said
Charles. I had just learned his name to
be Charles.
"Not at all, - I cried. 1 did not wish
to appear like a weathercock There
is nothing in your history which justi-
fes you in having ecour to the end of
q rope"
Charles had begun to interest me.
Listen, my friend, you are out of your