The record-union., 1898-09-11

l POSitlOuS, dUo sic WOuiu encourage
him, predicting for him a brilliant fu-
/ ture
/ When he left her, after those even
| ings of mutual exaltation, the young
man could not sleep all night
One day. at length, he ran the risk
of confesslng his love-in fear and
trem bling, for what was he to hope that
she would love him? Nothing at all,
alas! But this love gave him super
! human energy, and in order to make
himself worthy of her he would become
great himself.
| His ayowals made Juliette smile. She
| had guessed them long since. More
over, she did not repulse him; on the
contrary, she appeared pleased, and
very sweet.
Pierre could believe his love was re-
body and soul into his work, and
Julette was bound to him in radiant
destiny.
Things went on thus for two years,
which, for him, fairly flew along. Then.
at the final concert of the year, Juliette
carried off the first prize for singing
and the first prize for opera. This was
/
diately she had to choose between an
engagement in Paris and proposals,
more advantageous from material
point of view, from a manager who
wished to take from city to city this
new nightingale.
Juliette did not hesitate long, and, in
spite of the mute supplication which
she read in Pierre's eyes, decided to
| this tiy,,a he
finish his studies, obtain the first prize
for composition, make himself known
and then-then!-all this planned out
with that charm, that seduction which
Juliette possessed in a high degree.
| Pierre had to resign himself, and the
young girl went away.
| AT first she had written to him quite
regularly These letters were his life.
He read and reread them until he knew
them by heart, supplying in them the
| passion they lacked. Juliette called her
| self now ia Salvani," and her success
! was great She made an enormous
amount of money. Left alone in Paris,
Pierre worked with more ardor than
ever; more than ever he determined to
deserve her. Then little by little, the
| letters became shorter and less fire.
quent. Juliette wrote good news of
her health, spoke of her triumphs; rare
ly word of love-
These letters nearly froze Pierre's
heart when he received them. Yet he
would trust her. In the busy life she
led, rushing from city to city, it was
natural enough that Juliette should not
find much time to write, but, oh! if she
would only give it up and come back
to himi
And, in spite of himself, involuntary
fears would come, and one day he had
to acknowledge that these fears We're
only too we'll founded. The letters were
so far apart they grew so short, so cold,
that he could no longer deceive himself.
Finally they ceased altogether, and
Pierre had too much pride to recall a
promise which had been forgotten.
He was young, and youth withstands
more terrible blows than that. He
neither killed himself nor became mad,
yet, nevertheless, his life was ruined
If his health and his reason came out
victorious from this conflict, his ambi-
tion fell there. What was the use Of
composing beautiful works, of becom-
ing celebrated? His inspiration had
Withdrawn from him. 1t was an abdi-
cation, swift, absolute, irreparabe
Yet he must eat. Pierre gave lessons,
took up work of an inferior order
transcriptions for the piano, arrange
ments of such and such a celebrated
opera. 1t was a miserable existence,
but what difference did it make to
him? And when his indifference, his
gloomy manners, had driven away pu-
pills and publishers, and even this work
failed. he at last accepted the position
OF tuner in the piano store of the Rue
de Richelieu, a subordinate position, an
inferior calling which he had now filled
for twelve years
During these years Ia Salvani had
continued her triumphal journey across
Europe and America. Her return to
Parls had often been announced; more
than one manager had made her bril-
liant offers. But these reports, which
each time made a great noise in the
newspapers, were never, never realized.
1t had even been said that she was
afraid of Paris. She had not failed in
her destiny, and the queen, which she
already was at the conservatory. she
had now become in very truth, welcom
ed everywhere, covered with flowers
and jewels, celebrated in the papers.
never leaving the theater without ar
enthusiastic crowd following her car
riage.
And he, he was nothing Of his tall
ent, of his fine dreams, there remained
not trace. The radiant mirage Of his
youth had faded into this mechanical
occupation, in which he was not even
fortunate enough to find forgetfulness.
And it was Juliette whom he had
just seen-by what cruel chancei She
who was to sing this evening.
Some days before Pierre had noticed
in a newspaper her engagement at the
opera. She had, then, decided? The
past was sufficiently done away with |
Tor her to come back to Paris without
trouble, and she had arrived there at |
the hight of her glory, public idol.
Then mad desire to hear La SaIvani
overcame Pierre Morel; he would suf-
fer like one damned to be sure but
what natter
Pierre Morel crowded into the lobhv
where the chandeliers threw into ef- |
fective relief the gorgeous, bewilderiny
mass Of people
He climbed up to the S-urth gallery. |
refused to leave his top coat with the |
attendant, secured his seat all with
the dazed air he had worn since leaving
the Hotel du Louvre in the afternoon. |
The house began to fill, the musicians
T. L