The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1894-02-24

wade her boudoir before. As he waited
for her in the gathering dusk OF win
ter's afternoon moving aimiessiy about
with all the restlessness of lover, his
eve took in all the details of this room.
that had in it, had he only skill to
read the signs Alright, the whole OF a
woman's life history. She kept him
waiting--she always did. never in her
life had she been first at q rendezvous
and he looked and noted until whole
sum of new knowledge of her surged
round him.
1t was not a commonplace room, he
decided; nay, how could it be? 1t bore
in every detail the stamp of originate
ty. 1t was not coquettish room-the
ordinary feminine knick-knacks were
conspicuously absent-yet no one could
have taken 1t for mans room. The
conscious disorder, the preconceived
irregularity, the graceful litter was
that of fanciful. capricious, quick
moving woman, with too much sense of
beauty and fitness to allow it to go be-
yond the point where it should cease to
be picturesque and interesting.
The first sight of the place where she
lived, and all its accumulated, evidence
brought her before him as q few short
interviews in friends houses-a few
walt yes with her-a few hurried meet
ings in the park-had never done, and
as the door-not the door he expected
was pushed open behind him, he war
already SO thoroughly imbued with he
personality that he felt no shock of
surprise, only that the circle of iden-
tity was complete
They were engaged to each other,
but she did not kiss him, or even wish
him good day. She detested formali-
ties of every kind. and a habitual kiss
of greeting would have seemed to her
the worst manifestation of common
place. He knew her moods-or rather
he waited on them-he OWNED them
with the fine intelligence of q clever
man who loves, and who, seeing how
short life is, has elected to set all the
qualities which would have gone to
make him famous to the fathoming
and furthering of the whims, to the
appreciation of the moods. of one
woman.
She puzzled him, and she knew it. It
was one of her pleasures She gratifed
her strong histrionic instinct by thus
Offering herself to him IS a living
drama, and yet, in this elaborate pre-
sentiment of herself, she was always
sincere. She would have considered in
sincerity degrading and laborious She
knew that nothing she could invent
would be more striking, more interest
ing. than her own personality. She
only recast her strange thoughts into
artistic form for the benefit of her
slavish audience of one, and then she
laughed sweetly at her own intolera BILE
completely. She loved to see him un-
ravei her fanciful phrases, and marvel
at the force of her images, with the
same vicarious sense of enjoyment she
would have felt. leaning over his
shoulder as he read the pages of book
of more than average intelligence. She
was his novel, his poem. his problem
and his love.
"Sit down." said she "How do you
like my room?"
II like il, because It is you"
A fash of tantalizing consciousness
swept over her face as she replied. seri-
ously:
''Ah! 1t is not all meat least, not
me as / am now"
He prepared to be puzzled.
II have lived here always-nearly
always, you know. My people never
invade this room-it belongs to me- 1t
has always been mine. But do you
suppose that have not changed in oil
these years that i have been woman?
How often does serpent cast its
slough? This room holds my worn-out
SKIN, many of my WORKOUT skins.
There is nothing mean about me. do
not throw my old developments away.
don't despise my old self, or deny it.
I have been girl in this room, a gush-
ing. sentimental schoolgirl--do you
see my map Of Europe and my detest-
able Dore? have loved horses and led
an out-of-door life-do you see my lit
tie rack full Of whips? Look at those
angular angels over the mantel-piece.
once believed in Botticelli, and called
myself pre-Raphaelite"
And what are you now?'' he asked.
smiling, willing TO fall in with her hui
NOR.
"A Russian princess. at your service. !"
'Still, in all these changes, it was al
ways you"
"Ah. but not your you'll"
''Some one else's, do you mean?' He
tried to speak lightly. ssHave any
right to ask that?'
Every right" She waved her hands,
and the odor Of the pastilles that were
burning on the mantelpiece seemed
stirred and accentuated. Look at nv
life! 1t lies spread around you. con-
ceal nothinRv'
He was too delicate to pry. He drew
nearer and sat down beside her. She
let him put his arm round her neck.
just under her chin. and looked over II
at the running lace on the breast of her
gown below. with certain compla-
cancv