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

past life. He wrote to his mother avery
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 q few
seconds of wild expectation the door
was opened and the servant ushered in
Mime Ia Comtesse de V1llemerel'
He rose from his seat very pale.
"Odettel' he exclaimed.
But the young woman remained
standing ON the threshold. her features
contracted with anger.
"This is amost shameless trick, sir. I"
"a trickl What do you meant"
You wrote me word that you are
dying, and / find you up and well,
writing your letters. -Goodby, SIR"
"Odette! Do let me explain. One
word only" And as she was leaving the
comte snatched up from his desk the
letter he was writing to his mother.
and held it out to her. Read this be-
fore leaving" he gasped.
She took the letter, glanced at the
first few lines and then fell ON Ray
mond's neck, sobbing.
Poor boyi 1t was the truth"
For a few minutes they remained
clasped in each others arms, full of
passion and pain, giving mute express
sion to the memory Of the happy months
they had spent together and to remorse
for the year of happiness they had lost
by their separation.
They sat down close to one another,
hand in hand, completely overcome by
their feelings.
At last the comte bethought himself
OF his forefathers, one of whom had
climbed the steps of the scaffold in 1898
whistling O tune from the ''Indes Ga
lanter."
well, never mind" said he, with
a smile. "Isuppose l ought not to com
plain. l am dying Of a complaint which
will be fashionable tomorrow.
But Odette looked at him reproach-
fully, and he did not continue. Women
have no taste for irony.
They. chatted about old times, at first
almost in a whisper, as if they were in
q % where death had stricken down
a fellow creature. Then by degrees the
remembrance of better days brought TO
mind a little incident which made their
lips smile, while their eyes caught sight
On the wall Of some object recalling
particulars of the life they had led for
merly, such al the pictures of a chase,
which evoked the sounds of the hunts
mans horn al it rent in glowing glad
ness the November mist, and they dwelt
with pleasure ON the day when they had
cantered side by side, rustling the brown
leaves which covered the forest path.
Miniature fans, dusty accessories of
charming cotillons, reminded them Of a
German waltz which they had danced
before their marriage and how they had
the same evening under the palm
trees of the dollhouse.
They lived over again their rides in
the Bots de Boulogne under the green,
shady boughs when they were like two |
boys out for a spree, breakfasting at the
Pavilion Chinois and coming back
through the Champs Elysees to take
their part in the exuberant life of the
gay city. They would part for q few
hours yearning to meet again-after be.
ing bored at the club and at 5 O'Clock
team their box at the opera OF in the
Of their home.
Raymond and Odette were 30 absorb
ed by these old souvenirs that they be-
came oblivious of time and Of the terri
BILE circumstance which had brought
them together again.
, The bell rang. They awoke to pain
full reality and exchanged o horrible
look of anguish.
"Dr. Darloisr' announced the valet.
why, you do not mean to say You
are ont Of bed?' said the medical man,
with an amazed ~countenance. 81 was
coming to-
lyon were coming?''
well, / don't see why I should not
tell the truth now that, thank God, /
was mistaken. | was coming to make
quite sure you were dead"
Much obliged, " smiled the comte.
Then he is out Of danger?" inquired
Odette anxiously.
There is no question about Ii. But
it is certainly very odd, for the Echo
des Cliniques published yesterday an
exhaustive description of the mona.
Nevertheless pray be assured that I am
very happy
Unquestionably the doctor was very
happy. At the same time if he had told
the whole truth he would have admitted
that he was rather vexed at having been
such q bad prophet.
"Odette. suggested Raymond i'm art
whisper, do not You think you might
ask him to dinner with us In the even
ingT'-From the French in Strand
Magazine.