Democratic Northwest and Henry County news. [volume] (Napoleon, O. [Ohio]) 1894-1905, 1895-01-24
A FALSE PROPHECY.

his doctor gazing on him sadly.
"Saved once moreI" breathed the
comte, and he smiled as he stretched
out his arms.
my poor friend" sighed the doctor.
The sick man stared aghast.
"Pull yourself together" he contin-
ued. "You are man who can stand
the truth.
What do You mean?"
"Your symptoms are those Of the
nona.''
"Of what?"
"a curious plague. When the state
Of lethargy is over, tie patient has
three lucid hours, at the end of which
he dies suddenly"
"Whewv"
"Now, look here, keep your spirits
up, like the plucky fellow you arel Aft
er all is said and done life is not worth
living for. Goodby-goodby, my poor
friend-goodby."
Ten minutes later the conte had
risen. Clad in his flannel smoking jack
ct, he was putting the last touches to
his toilet The doctor had withdrawn
that his friend might have time to set
tie his worldly affairs
When he had done brushing his mus
tache and smoothing his finger nails,
Raymond chose one Of his driest cigars
and lit it, while casting sorrowful
look at tho others, those which he was
not to smoke. Then he threw himself
on his divan and began to reflect.
However brave he might be, however
fearless of death, Comte de Villemere
soon came to the conclusion that his
case was a peculiarly aggravating one.
The day before, SO soon as he was
taken with fever-he had made up his
mind to prepare for the worst-he had
sent for his lawyer, and for priest,
and destroyed all his letters Then he
had laid down his giddy head and fallen
asleep with tho conviction that he would
not awake again before doomsday.
But now he was like a condemned
man, who, after having made sure of a
reprieve, found himself suddenly Oh the
way to the scaffold
Outside the CHEEKY atmosphere Of
bright June day the Champs Elysees
were alive with continuing stream of
smart carriages. Everything spoke of
happiness and health. He himself had
never felt so fit, and he was asked to be-
lieve that tomorrow there would be
NOT l1St1Cp loft of oil thic for ha
was concerned-but a mournful crowd
of friends, trip in slow jolting hearso
and the mumbling of priest before an
open grave.
Tomorrow the joys and friendly ties
of his whole life would be gono forever.
While he was finishing his cigar, re-
clining listlessly OH the cushions of his
divan, Raymond saw all his life fit
past him as i'll dream. Nearly forgot
ten episodes of his childhood cropped
up as if they were quite recent. Then
in rapid succession his mind dwelt Oh
the many times he had fallen in love
between 10 and 20 until he came to the
first month Of his married life.
How full of unmitigated joy those
days had been! Raymond remembered
the minutest events of his honeymoon
or moons spent in fun and frolic, with
pleasant excursions, verging on bach
elor's dissipation and freaks which
made lively gossip for fashionable folk
Delighted beyond measure by the ad-
miration which his wife excited wher-
ever he took her, he was more madly
in love after his marriage than before
He would have been jealous if the mere
possibility of such thing could have
been seriously entertained by either of
them. And all this passionate love had
been brought to an end by q soandalous
separation owing to blunder on his
part and rash escapade of the little
comtesse.
By mutual consent they had separat-
ed. Yet, strange to say, their love for
each other had continued. So far as the
world was concerned, their relations
were restricted to icy bows whenever
they met on the boulevards, but their
professed Indifference for each other
scarcely deceived their common friends.
The idea of dying without having
seen once more the woman he loved
above all others appeared preposterous
to the comte. Studied obstinacy and
stern resolve seemed to be altogether
out Of f4place when brought face to face
with everlasting separation.
What risk did he run now in at
tempting reconciliation even if it
were not to succeed?
Raymond sprang to his feet, and seat
ing himself before his writing desk
scribbled hurriedly short telegram and
sent it off by his valet.
He looked at his watch. He had two
hours more to live. The comtesse would
have time to come.
Would she come? Would she be
touched by note containing dying
mans farewell? Or, in the relentless
dignity of offended woman, would she
refuse to forgive even under these solemn
circumstances?
The anguish of uncertainty, added to
the moral torture, made Raymond vince
despite all his nerve and resolution to
take his inevitable fate coolly. With
something very like terror he eyed the
fleeting minutes which separated him
from eternity.
Another hour few away while he was
getting ready to die, stopping now and
then to muse With melancholy on his
past life. He wrote to his mother very
long letter, full of "reminiscences Of his
early life, and as he did SO tears came
to his eyes.
Suddenly Raymond started at the
sound of the electric bell. After few
seconds of wild expectation the door
was opened and the servant ushered in
''Mme. la Comtesse de Villemerev"
He rose from his seat very pale.
"Odettep' he exclaimed.
But the young wcspan remained