Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1896-02-08
IN A PRIVATE BOX.

never been in his company elsewhere.
He used to play chess there, and so
lid |, and our acquaintance had been
confined to chats across the checkered
board. was an enthusiast at the game,
while he, though much stronger
player, seemed to use chess as solace
for some trouble, or to divert his mind
from unpleasant thoughts. OF this
was convinced.
Many months passed before even
knew his name, which / at last discov-
ared TO be francesca Astarita. He was
a decidedly good-looking Italian, about
30 years of age, but his features already
bore lines of care or affection, never
sould tell which. l always found him
very variable in manner. Sometimes
he wood be almost affable, at others
silent and morose. but there was al
ways dash of melancholy in his con-
yersation.
We met only at night, and I gathered
that he held some mercantile appoint
ment in the city. He spoke almost
perfect English.
Will you have game?" I said, one
evening, as l took sea- opposite to
him at one of the handicapped tables.
81 should like to try that variation in
the Ruy Lopez again"
"No, thank you,' he replied, grufiy.
81 am just going"
"You are not feeling unwcll, hope?"
He certainly looked very pale and
carcworn, but he gave no answer. A
sicltly smile, half sneer, stole over his
face.
A Few minutes later he rose, put on
his hat, and, with curt Goodnight"
STROBE toward the door. Then he sud-
denly stopped, came back, and said:
81 am going to the Jo,lity. Do you
care to come? / have taken private
box-quite alone"
Music halls, even when called thea
tiers Or varieties, were net much to my
taste, but / was disappointed of my
chess, for there was no other person
present with whom l cared to play,
and, at any rate, could come away
from the Jollity when was tired.
So accepted his invitation, and we
strolled along the street together. He
was unusually silent, and as failed in
several attempts to get Inn into con-
versation, at length fell back on my
own thoughts.
What could induce q man of his
temperament to go to a music hall
especially in such particularly un-
sociahle mood? Could it be possible
that The entertainment would take his
mind off his troubles? Thn. he had
troubles, and serious ones, 7 could not
for moment doubt. But what most
me was to find him in
dulging in the luxury of private box,
for l was sure that he was a man of
slender means. The ticket might have
been given to him, but he had distinct
ly said that he had "taken it," which
meant "hired it."
The bright and brilliantly decorated
house was already crowded in many
parts when we took our seats and the
entertainment had begun. a girl in an
idealized male attire was singing song
with rollicking chorus, AMI youths
were grinning with enjoyment at the
sama old jokes that their fathers and
grandfathers had relished in days gone
by.
Astarita looked horribly bored. He
sat at the back of the box in silence.
he pulled his chair nearer to
mine and became communicative.
"Ycu can't understand me-" he said.
you think l am not happy. Well, !
am not. And do you suppose this pro-
gran,me is likely to cheer me? Come
back out Of that noise. win tell you
a story-a true stcry--a page out Of
my own life"
The audience was applaud;ng, and
I moved my chair into the interior of
the box.
"My father was an Italian -"
$50 l should judge by you. name,"
l interrupted.
eyes; but he died when | was very
young, and my mother was English.
My home was at Naples. When was
a lad l went into the Office of large
firm of fruit merchants there. I.stuck
hard al my work for some years, and
was doing very well. Then | met the
only woman / ever loved-I must have
been about 25-and the ouly woman !
believed to be worthy of my devotion.
All, those were happy days."
Astarita paused in his story, and
seemed to be dwelling on memories of
the past.
what was l saying?' he suddenly
began again. "Ah, yes, l remember.
Angela knew of my love and returned
it. There was not a shadow on our
path-until an English scoundrel,
callcd Herbert Ross, appeared on the
scene. I never knew what brought
him 10 Naples, but he came, and while
there, in an evil hour, met her-my
sweet Angela.
raat man, sir, had What the world
calls winning manner. He could talk
well, played the violin, and was an anna
teur conjurer and ventriloquist. The
world loves a mountebank, and there
we're plenty of fools in Naples ready
to welcome him as guest. The villain
fascinated my Angela-instilled into
her desire to go on the stage. He had
influence with actors and managers
everywhere, and, as her parents were
dead, and she was living with friends,
he had no difficulty in getting her an