The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1894-12-14

same evening, pell-mell, with the tri- |
umphant bouquets, after the fifth act.
But Immediately he became as jeal-
GUS as Mussulman-yes, jealous OF
the very public. when she sang. He
was always there in the front seats
of the orchestra, and at each burst
of applause he turned abruptly, and
cast a sombre look over the house.
That look seemed to express a desire
to slap the whole audience in the
face. Everything went wrong. Even
when the cZar was present, the prlma
donna had eyes for no one but Basil,
sang always to Basil. That caused
trouble behind the scenes, and the
poor girl decided to leave the stage
She did so at the end of three months,
at the close of her engagement He
married her-and since then they have
hidden themselves in Paris, in the
retreat which you discovered. They
must be dead in love. But l will
gladly bet a hamper of champagne
that Basil will get over it. He is
built like the Farnese Hercules, and
they say poor Stolberg is consump-
tive. They pretend even that it is
disease which gives her voice its
wonderful power and extraordinary
sweetness and pathos. Her gift is the
result of disease, like the pearl. All
| the same, no matter how much in
love with Lobanof .theh poor girl is,
she will die of WEAKNESS in that
cage in which he keeps her. Then
she must sing very rarely. since in the
many times you have passed before
their house you have heard her but
once, that night of the storm. Well,
it will end badly"
| rTbn ti0u fI1rpQd fO other
things, and the next day left Dieppe
to go with some friends to Lower
Normandy. I had only been there
ten days when I read accidentally in
a theatrical paper the following no
| tice: eve announce with sorrow the
death of Mile Ida Stolberg, the
Swedish cantatrice, who shone so
briefly and brilliantly on the stage
in Germany and Russia, and who re-
nounced her lyrical career in the
midst of her success and has been
living quietly in Paris for two years
past. She died of pulmonary con-
sumption"
| 1 had never seen Stolberg. Once
only had I heard that Incompatible
voice. Still, the reading of this COM
monplace notice, which announced to
me the fulfillment of Prince Khaloff' s
dismal prophecy, broke my heart I
knew now the whole mystery of the
closed house. 1t was there that the
poor woman had languished and been
extinguished, deeply in love, no doubt,
but stjf1ed also by the captivity to
which she was condemned by the jeal-
ousy of her husband. No doubt, also,
she was full of regrets for the former
triumphs of her abandoned art. The
fate of Stolberg seemed so sad to me
| that I fairly hated the man who had
sacrificed her whole life. He seemed
to me a fop, an egotist, brute. ]
was certain that he would soon con-
sole himself for the loss of his wife,
that he would soon forget the poor
dead woman, and that, unworthy of
the love which he had inspired, he
would also be incapable Of grief or
fidelity.
On my return to Paris, one of the
first persons I met on the boulevard
was Prince Khaloff. I told him how
much had been moved at the news
of the singers death, and could not
hide from him the instructive antiE-
athy which I felt toward Lobanof.
Behold, you people of imagina-
tionw cried the prince. ''You were
charmed for an instant by this wo-
Gus love for her, and retrospective
jealousy of my poor friend. I own
to you that I have always thought
Basil a more sensual than sensible
man. more passionate than tender;
but have seen him since poor Ida's
death, and he is prey, / assure you,
to the most horrible and sincere de-
spair. When I expressed my sympa-
thy to him, he cast himself in my
larms, and repeated to me, as he wept
on my shoulder, that he could live
no longer And it was not pretence.
He goes at once to Senegal, to join
the Jackson mission,-a party of ex-
Iplorers who will bury themselves,
probably forever, in frightful Africa.
This is not common, you will own.
In following the Jackson mission Ba-
sill certainly will be faithful to his
poor loves memory, for he will meet
lout there only the most horrid mon
keys of women, and it is to be feared
that fever or cholera, or a shot from
the gun of savage, will end the
poor boys life and sorrows. Take
back, I beg you, your rash and pre-
mature judgment upon him. Be-
lsides, he had before his departure an
idea which should certainly seem af-
fecting to you. That pavilion, where
he has been so happy and so unhappy.
belongs to him. Well, he has closed
lit forever. Basil wishes that no liv-
ing being should ever again penetrate
that abode of love and sorrow. You
can pass there now, and see the house
fall into ruin, and ON the day when
they put notice upon it, on that day
you can say, Basil Lobanof is dead"
I left the prince. and the next day.
reproaching myself for my injustice.
I went to see the deserted house The
shutters were closed; the dead leaves
of the great plane tree. half bare (it
was the end of autumn). covered the
grass Of the lawn. Weeds forced
their way through the gravelled walk.
The work Of destruction had begun.
Months passed; year; then an
other; then the daily papers were full
of the great anxiety felt over the fate
of Jackson and his companions, from
whom no news had come You know
that even today the world is ignorant
of the fate of those brave explorers.
Living always in the same vicinity
| and passing every day before the
abandoned pavilion, I saw it decay.
little by little. The rain of two win
tiers had lashed constantly the plaster