The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1897-05-20

things went badly; they got in debt.
| The child grew, was weaned and sent
to the day nursery, and the mother,
often idle, always coquette, began to
| have dangerous adventures. Can you
not see the whole tragedy? The poor
man, worn with toll, aged before his
! time, and this frivolous 20year-old with
the pretty Greuze head? One evening,
coming home with his boy, whom he
| had called for at the nursery on his
way, Tony Robec found a letter on his
mantelpice, and when he opened it
/ Clementine's wedding ring fell out In
the letter the wicked girl babe him and
their boy farewell and begged them to
forgive her.
Oh, romantic jury, who thirst for
/ blood and who always acquit the in
/ iured husband who kills his wife and
her lover, you will find poor Tony very
ridiculous and even a little culpable,
for he had more sorrow than anger in
his heart. He wept bitterly, and when
Adrian said to him: Where is NAM
ma? VIII she come back soon?' he en-
braced the child tenderly and answered:
Il do not know" Clementine fled early
in May. Oh, how hateful is the odor
| of lilacs-sOmetimes When July came
/ Tony sold his small stock of furniture,
paid his debts and came to live in the
Rue Delambre, where he was unknown.
! There he lived so quietly, so discreetly,
that they took him for a widower,
| Toward the end of September Tony re-
i 1,++ 1, =.
coherent and desperate pages, blotted
| with tears. Her lover, medical stu
dent, had gone on a vacation to his fam
lily in the provinces, AID for five weeks
he had not written nor given any sign
of life. She was abandoned, deceived
in her turn, the traitoress, and she re-
pented and implcred, begged for grace.
Poor Tony was heartbrOllen, but ro
assure yourselves, ferocious jurymen,
with the souls of the Moor of Venice,
and, if you please, give a little of your
respect to the unfortunate man. He
proudly refused an answer to MS guilty
wife.
There had been no more news OF
Clementine until Christmas. On that
'''. w ~ " a y al ilN lIttl Jstll III ldiN
habit of going with is wife to Law q
modest bouquet-some frozen violets
and dropping rose between-on the
grave Of their tiny Felix, their first
born, who had died away from them
but whom they had lain in Mount Par
nassuS, to be near in death. For the
first time Tony must make this pill
I CrI-ir q Iona with A6r,ia,, ,nJ !,
entered the cemetery gates, under
gloomy winter sky, he felt more sorrow
than ever before at the absence of his
faithless wife. "Where is she now?'
he thought what has become of her -
But when he reached the grave of Felix
which he found with difficulty, he
started in surprise. There lay on the
small stone three or four playthings
such as poor children poSsess-a horn
a punchinello, toy dog; they had just
been placed there, for they were new:
had evidently recently been purchased
'Ah, the playthings," cried Adrian, as
he spied the offering. But the father.
seeing a piece of paper pinned to them.
| leaned over took it. and read these
words in a writing he remembered toe
we'll: For Adrian, from his brother
Felix, who is now with the infant
Jesus"
Suddenly he felt his sons arms about
/ his neck and heard him cry in a fright
cned voice Mamma" and there a few
| feet away. kneeling under group of
/ cypress, he saw a woman dressed in the
| garb Of poverty, O, 50 pale, with stream
| ing eyes, who held out her arms toward
him in supplication,
Between ourselves. gentlemen of the
most sanguinary jury, do not believe
! Tony Robec thought just then of him
who was born on that Christmas day,
and who taught by precept and example
the forgiveness Of injury. The poor
worllingman had very little religion.
| But his plebian heart ignored both self
love and hate. With a shudder, caused
| less by the thought of the old injury
than by pity at seeing the woman he
! had once loved in such a miserable
plight, he pushed her little son so gently
toward her. 'Adrian.' said he, go and
| Kiss your mother" She clasped her son
in a desperate embrace and kissed his
! curly head in a passion of tenderness.
Then she rose and turned a beseechipo
glance on her husband. How good YOU
are" she murmured. But he already
stood at her side, and replied, with
parched lips, almost harshly: DO not
speak, and give me your arm" 1t was
not far from the cemetery to the Rue
Delambre; they hurried home; Tony
felt Clementine's arm trcmble in his
own. The child walked beside them alb
sently admiring his playthings.
The concierge of the house where
Tony lived met them at the door.
Madame" he said, this is my wife.
who has been in the country for six
months with her sick mother, and who
now will live with me here" And they
mounted the staircase while he almost
carried the poor woman, overcome with
emotion and joy. When they reached
their home4y chamber Tony seated his
wife in the only chair the room afforded,
and put her son in her arms, then, open
ing drawer in the bureau, he took out
u little paper box, and taking from il