The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1894-08-02

Il
judge for yourself, if you will lunch
with us to-day, perfectly sans cere-
monie.''
''Lunch?" stammered the complete
ly dazed officer. s'How?-where?'
s'Rue Murillo, 49," cried Lucy Ba-
taille, galloping off and giving him a
pretty salute with her crop.
The old servant followed at proper
distance. The coupe drove off, and
Boucoiran remained alone with his
thoughts. So that horrible Saint
Armel had not given up Lucie? Re
even lunched with her! Oh, those
husbands! True, the diva was almost
pretty enough to make man commit
crime.
At noon, precisely, Boucoiran was
at the door of cosy little house in
Rue Murillo. The vestibule, the stair
case, the salon were all in exqu:1ite
taste. In a kind of sitting-room,
Lucie, clad in simple white gown,
received her guest
''Henri keeps us waiting," she said.
500 you know, Monsieur de Boucoi-
ran, am quite displeased that you
did not call before?" j
''Really, madame, am so engrossed
by my hard work that I find no time
for society. I hate music, conse-
quently have never even heard you
sing"
"You haven't lost much. I sing
only under compulsion.
IF I am correctly informed You
sing every evening.
Il? Why, I haven't uttered note
!, for over a fortnight.''
$50 much the worse for the ears of
Paris, madame. If I were in Henris
place I should urge you on in your
| art, for our friend with meaning
smile) seems to have some influence
| over YOU"
"Ah, if you knew how hard he is to
olease!'
"And still, when he spoke of you
let me sect was the day sold poor
Fleuron; he said that he would like to
see you at the opera. "
'You are joking. What else did he
say? I am interested in his conf
dences to you"
"Will you pardon me if I enter into
details?"
''Certainly, already regard you as
an old friend"
''Well, Henri said to me: She is
made to play pages roles; with such
| legs"
He spoke to you Of
''And to say that I never had the
curiosity to see them! am so busy
Besides, my tastes differ from Henri's.
We are not at all alike. I never could
understand his crazy idea of marry
ing"
Lucille Bataille opened her eyes to
the fullest extent, but did not an
swer. Boucoiron continued:
'When he allowed us to guess the
coming catastrophe I said to myself:
My boy, if your American is not a
very superior creature, you will lead
her merry dance Confess that I
knew Saint Armel thoroughly, and
still, now understand why he wasn't
long in coming back to YOU" ~ ~
The young woman's face wore such
a queer expression that the captain
stopped short
81 fancy" he said after pause,
''that you do not agree with me; or
rather, think your reserve in very
good taste. But I hear our friend
coming" ..
The next minute the two men were
greeting each other efusively.
The mornings encounter was re-
lated. Boucoiran excused himself
for having so cavalierly accepted
madame's invitation.
''It was a case in which you had tc
respond cavalierly," answered Henri,
''since Fleuron presented you.'
The three sat down to luncheon.
"Confess," said the count, ''that
marriage hasn't changed me-"
II almost feel like saying, not
enough! But am not here to moral
ize. Besides, madame is your best ex.
cuse. But I am told that your night
ingale is silent. True, we are in win,
ter, but that is precisely the time
when the nightingales Of the stage
MARBLE their most brilliant notes.
Never did nadrigal produce less eff
feet. Henri and the young woman
glanced at each other anxiously.
'Have 1 said anything amiss?'
asked Boucoiran. "Well, let us speal
of other things. Do you know, lovely
lady, that you are charmingly in
stalled? Such taste! Such comfort
Such a cook! No wonder Henri like:
! to lunch here, for I doubt if the con
!, jugal board" w. "
, "Decidedly," said the supposed
Lucie Bataille, who began to shov
signs of displeasure, ''you have ;
, grudge against my husband"
"Your husband?" cried Boucoiran
jumping from his chair, 'tyour hus
band! You are his wife?''
''L~o!z here, my dear fellow" sale
q the count, pale with annoyance
'sMme. de Saint-Armel will think you
, are mad. Sit down and lunch quietly.
But Boucoiran had thrown dow
p his napkin, and before anyon
knew what he was about, had rushed