The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1895-02-12
A FALSE PROPHECY.

"Saved once more!'' breathed the
comte, and he smiled. as he stretched
out his arms.
"My poor friend, " sighed the doctor.
The sick man stared aghast.
Pail yourself together" he contin.
ned. "You are a man who cen stand
the truth"
"What do you mean?''
Your symptoms are those of the
mona"
''Of what?'
"a curious plague. When the state
Of lethargy is over. the patient has
three lucid hours, at the end Of which
he dies suddenly"
"Whewl"
Nov, look here. keep your spirits
mp, like the plucky fellow you arei Aft
er all is said and done life is not worth
living for. Goodby-goodby, my poor
friend-goodby."
Ten minutes later the comte 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 The doctor had withdrawn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 lit, while casting q sorrowful
look at the 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 o peculiarly aggravating one
The day before, so soon as he was
taken with fever-he had made ND his
mind to prepare for the worst-he had
sent for his lawyer, and for a priest,
and destroyed all his letters. Then he
had laid down his giddy head and fallen
asleep with the 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 on the
way to the scaffold.
Outside the CHEEKY atmosphere Of q
bright June day the Champs Elysees
were alive with a continuing stream of
smart carriages. Everything spoke of
happiness and health. He himself had
felt SO fit, and he was asked to be-
heve that tomorrow there would be
nothing left of all this-so far as he
was concerned-but a mournful crowd
Of friends, a trip in a slow jolting hearse
and the mumbling of q priest before an
open grave.
Tomorrow the joys and friendly ties
of his whole life would be gone forever.
While he was finishing his cigar, re-
Ginning listlassly ON the cushions of his
divan, Raymond saw all his life fit
past him as in q dream. Nearly forgot
ten episodes of his childhood cropped
mp as If they were quite recent. Then
in rapid succession his mind dwelt on
the many times he had fallen i'm love
between 10 and % until he came to the
first month CT his married life.
How full of unmitigated Joy those
days had beenl 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 a thing could have
been seriously entertained by either of
them. And all this passionate love had
been brought to an end by a scandalous
separation owing to a blunder on his
part and a rash escapade of the little
comtesee.
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 b~oulevards, 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
a of place when brought face to face
with everlasting separation.
What risk did he run now in at
tempting q reconciliation even il it
were not to succeed?
Raymond sprang to his feet, and seat
ing himself before his writing desk
scrubbed hurriedly short telegy am and
sent it of by his valet.
He looked at his watch. He had two
hours more TO live. The comtesse would
have time 20 come.
Would she come? Would she be
touched by a note containing a dying
man . farewell? Or, in the relentless
dignity Of offended woman, would she
refuse to forgive ever under these solemn
circumstances?
The anguish of uncertainty. added to
n moral torture, made Raymond Vince
despite all his nerve and resolution 10
lake his inevitable fate cooIly. With
soznething very like terror no eyed tho
Meeting minutes which separated him
from eternity.
Another hour new away while he iva
Eete3ug ready % dias stopping now ana