Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1895-01-26


rude flesh. His mother could not explain
why the whole thing gave her such vague
uneasiness. She turned for comfort, as
usual to NJ E,tienae. 1T is time that he
ranged himself. that found for him some
young girl with a sufficient dot, her
thoughts summoning up an array OF pos
sible and impossible young princesses.
But my people, my friends, are gone.
The Chevalier St. Malo died last year.
Mortignat is imbecile. 1 doubt if there is
one left in the world who knows that the
Duchess des saraznes Beauxlieux lives!
And he begins to Rave money. The bour-
geois spirit of the time will seize him If we
do not beware. Is it that it is the habit of
all young men, playing, as he does. at
profession. so soon to arrive at wealth."
Il do not Know" stammered NJ.
Et,enne. We've may be sure
The duchess looked at him in surprise.
Sure of what? Was NJ. Etienne disturbed
that Beauxlieux found money easily? OF
course, whatever a SaraEineS ReauAlieuX
attempted he would do as well as the best.
Had not even poor little Pierre made
money?
What is 1T. monsieur? You, also. you a
physician, you should know.
Il have always had sufficient, madame"
said NJ. Etienne. with an air of cold re-
straint quite foreign to him, and leaving
her with an abrupt bow, as If he heard
sCme speaking without. he paused in
the great hall to wipe his forehead. W hat
he did know very we'll was that no young
physician could bring home to his mother,
house luXuries, costly wines, or pony
carriage to take the air. even though he
deEied himself everything BeauXieux
did, and gave them to her because sensible
that they were much to her after long
seclusiol. sun and air to those others,
the sufferers. as equal laws to the crafts
men, as liberty and life to the slave, as the
bit of mother earth to all that tread upon
1T. She is one of my people, too he said
to M. Etienne. And to each according to
his need!' And then, by an unavoidable
accident. NJ Etienne had seen scrap of
PAPER, on which was noted, apparently,
balance that had made him feel as if there
We're nothing real left In the world. He
called to mind the gaming debts OF the old
duke. his grandfather, stories Of wild play,
In which whole provinces changed hands
and lands and serfs Were Staked against
the value of fair predendue'S affections.
But anything like that, he knew we'll as
he knew that the sky was above him, was
impossible to BeauXlieuX. The worst he
feared. he the royalist, was that place and
power were throwing fortune into the
young mobiles hands, peradventure to
win him to themselves. How he had
come by such a sum OF money his friend
and tutor could not say-it had strange
lockout under any and all circumstances
BeauxleUX must be right. What was of
more consequence to NJ. Etienne than all
the rest was that the duchess was uneasy
concerning it.
Beauxlieux's twenty-fourth birthday was
now approaching. He was away with Jean
now-on one of their trips which he called
Journeys into the night His mother knew
that he carried aims to the perishing, that
he went to give them the hip of his pro-
fession, for which alone he had learned and
valued 1t, to teach their rights human
beings to whole clusters of slaves. One day
she found a letter open on BeauXlieuX'S
desk, written, it said. from the blood of a
pricked vein; and she felt horrible fore
be ding that some day he, also. would be In
the depths of some oubliette sending such
message to hearten those without. Oh,
what had happened to the world. she cried,
when prince like BeauXlieux felt himself
of more worth than the characterization
herding with his cows and sheep or crowd
ing the cellars Of filthy city courts!
But now he was coming home! And
when she saw him she forgot danger. He
was there and the sun shone. With BeauX-
leux at her feet, with NJ. Etienne at the
other side of the fire, what more had she
to ask? She had Olympic prepare toilet
for her to wear on this birthday that
should make him remember to whom he
belonged-hiS mother, still the grande dame
and she went with Olympic to the secret
place in the wall to bring cut the old
BeauXlieuX diamonds, with half a pleasant
anticipation of the flash of their awaken
ing, of the sudden sheets of luster that,
after their three years Imprisonment.
should stream out If they would IL
lumine the very abyss into which the glory
of the Sarazines Beauxlieux had fallen.
One by one Olympic took the cases and
carried tnem 10 the dressing table. Inc
duchess herself opened the large one. and
instead of the burst of Misunderstanding.
Only the loose, soft channels lining Of the
thing gave out an empty CLEAN. There
was some mistake. How was it? Could
the jewels have been crowded into the
other cases? Their fingers trembled, they
knew not why, as they tried to open them
One and all, they were empty. The seldom
worn Coronet, the lesser diadem, the
rivieres. those superb and matchless stones
of the fillets and of the collar and of the
sunburst that had been theirs for more
than thousand years, had vanished as Il
they had been soap bubbles.
CHAPTER ".
They ran back to the hidden niche; they
dragged out the iron box. Both of them
were empty also. The two women con-
fronted each other, white and shaking
They had been robbed! What misery!
What cruelty! Who was 1T who could mis-
use them SO? Who knew of the hiding
place? Who had taken them? DO not
speak," said the duchess. BE quiet till
can think! Oh, say nothing, say nothing
till / can think" she murmured over and
over. Say nothing, my Olympic! Say
nothingg'
Without question. there was not a stone
or spark left of the Beauxlieux diamonds
The duchess could have trusted Olympic
with her life; she knew, of course that
nothing would be said about the loss of the
diamonds I'LL she spoke herself. And 1t
seemed to her as if she had herself been
stricken with dumbness. All her shadowy
fears vanished like thin phantoms before
this terrible reality of evil. Not that the
diamonds were gone: not that any one
could reproach her for neglect was she
concerned What had she ever cared for
them, other than as they represented the
long-descended luster of the family itself?
And 1t was not she who had been robbed
any more than the long line of all that
dead and long people. She paced the great
hall and looked angrily at the dark por-
traits-were the eyes there stabbing her
with reproach for what she had brought
among them? She went out and essayed
to busy herself among her late lingering
flowers. 1t was no use; there was q worm
at every root When she walked along the
shore the restless wash and roar of the
water was the only thing in tune with the
tumult of her thoughts. When she came
in she whirled. without reading 1t, letter
of Beauxlieux into the fire that always
smoldered on the hearth, and sat there
wrapped in cloud of gloom. She did not
eat in these days. She did not sleep.
White and thin and with & little breathless
air, the blackness of her gown was not so
black as the shadow that surrounded her
They were his!' she said over and over
to herself, like the tolling of bell. "They
were his-de Quelque maniere. He had