Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1897-07-31
THE HIGHEST BIDDER

1t was at Brussels, in the auction
rooms at the orner of the streets Leo
pold and Wiertz, that tho incident hap
pened. My friend was an Englishman,
but he had lived long in the country
and had acquired a taste for the Bel
gian arts that seemed almost native,
and that made him something of col
lector. The sale at the rooms was to be
very similar to sale at Sotheby' s, and
the catalogue referred to original man
uscripts and first editions and to hum
dred things loved by the curioso. My
friend was present in the hope of secur-
ing some early engravings, and 1 was
with him as part of the idleness of a
holiday. We were early, and while
waiting the time of the sale we looked
together at the catalogue, and he enter.
entry.
'"This number should be interesting"
he said, pointing to a line on the first
page, 1.-The love letters of Outline, our
poet of love. Keats letters, you remem
Der, were sold in London not long ago,
and one of your verse makers wrote a
lamenting sonnet. Outline was not so
great a poet as Keats, but his passion
for Jetta Teterol was as wildly spoken
as the others for Fanny Brawne. Your
verse maker was right. 1t is hard that
because a man has given part of his soul
to the world the world should want the
whole. But the curious are innocent of
modesty, and-yes, the number should
he interesting."
"There will be a fight for the letters,
you think?' 1 said.
eyes, probably. Outline has some
thing of a vogue just now. The women
are discovering that he wrote as in their
best hours they think. And indeed it
was tender, womanly muse. The lit
tie man standing by the table-him
with the glasses, mean-will, think,
get them. He is professor at the uni
versity, and doubtless meditates an arti-
Gle in one of the reviews. Himself with
ont sentiment, he will criticise their
sentiment Already he has written more
than one urkind thing about the Gui-
tine morals. The letters will give him
yet new text.
For a moment or two looked at the
professors hard, thin face and sympa-
thiZed with the dead poet. then as the
auctioneer mounted to his place and
commenced the days sale turned my
eyes to one and another in the room.
Mostly the crowd was of men, dealers
Or chance buyers, but here and there
were women with the usual catalogue
and pencil, and among them was one
whose dress and manner interested me
even to curiosity. Near to US she stood,
lmpatlently buttoning and unbuttoning
glove, and l saw that she was pretty,
but somewhat too we'll dressed and
somewhat too freely jeweled.
Do you know" asked my friend,
"who is the girl to our right?'
He looked and slightly shrugged his
shoulders and said: Eyes, she is Marie
Carbara, one of the actresses at the new
theater. Size is only a minor actress,
but you see her cloak and the brooch
clasping it. They are all alive, these
pretty singers and dancers All love the
sunshine and the butterfly life. What
brings Marie here I do not know, nor
what makes her so angry with her glove.
The boudoir wants a picture, perhaps.
That was very little for the Louis vases.
All, here are the Outline letters. They
will fetch more''
The auctioneer spoke of the poet and
of his love for Jetta Teterol and of his
n hor A Afyai,, T 1nolyoI
the room to one and another. Many
seemed little interested in the bundle of
yellow sheets, but a few seemed likely
bidders. The professor was listening to
the auctioneer's words and smiling as
one amused. Other men, who knew less
than the professor, were listening with
more humility. The girl Marie had
ceased to play with her glove and held
one hand lightly in the other. At the
girl l looked longer than at the men.
She had an earnestness of expression
that was pretty to see, an earnestness
that presently gave me an idea.
1T is not IA picture that has brought
Mademoiselle Carbara here" said to
my friend. 1t is these letters. Look at
her."
''She is certainly concerned for them.
Perhaps you are right, " he replied. "As
said, the women are beginning to read
and to love Outline, and-yes, perhaps
you are right. Still, my man speaks
first, and he is not likely soon to give
in"
The professor moved his glasses for
ward little and said, "Ten francs"
and the bidding commenced. Given
ty," said the girl Marie. And noticed
the pleasantness of her voice and was
glad my idea had not been wrong
Thirty" said a man to my left.
''Thirty," replied the auctioneer.
"Yes, it is fight" said my friend
as ten by ten the offer rose, "but be-
tween our two people only. The other is
an agent and will presently reach his
limit. Indeed, already he seems to have
reached It,"