Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-06-21
dated from Baden Baden. AS to the SIG.

II made every attempt, examining #
letter by letter, searching among nv
papers for the name of the person who
could have been guilty of this vile
scrawl. 1t was absolutely impossible to
discover any clew which would put me
On the right track. At Baden Baden? l
had 300 friends at Baden Baden. But
this unlucky name--still, l must find
out what it was. For two days l did
nothing but turn it over in my mind,
seeking the solution, giving every one
whom l met this signature to decipher.
Absolutely useless. Each person gave a
different opinion.
"You can imagine into what a fever
this had thrown me. At the time / was
full OF a great many notions. Imagined
that to refuse money to a friend was
meanness. We are all simpletons when
| young. But what caused me the great
est annoyance was the thought that per-
haps this note was from some one for
whom | entertained a real friendship.
II telegraphad to 10 or IL intimate
friends. None was the author of the
note. Then I betook myself to experts
in c~hirography. One said the name was
Casernier-had no doubt of it, was
willing to swear to it. The second said
that he challenged any one to read the
name otherwise than Sutinais and was
willing to swear to that name, and
finally a third declared it was not a
name at all, but a word. In his opinion
it was 'Civilities.'
"Sutinais and Casernier were alike
unknown to me. l turned over the club
directories. l again reviewed my book
OF addresses, name Dynamo. Nothing. /
could discover nothing. I was almost
crazy, you may imagine, and l had even
lost sight, to some extent, of the original
reason for all this trouble, thinking less
now of obliging a friend than of discov-
ering this name SO carefully concealed.
son the third day an inspiration came
to me, 80 simple that it had occurred to
me only after all the other attempts had
failed. l wrote to Baden Baden for a
list OF the Frenchmen staying at the
hotel Of the unfortunate %scribbler. l
would need only to write to all whom I
knew in the place. This Gained me.
And, in truth, | needed it, for I had
conceived all inexplicable rage against
all this, as if something mysterious and
fatal pursued me.
II retired early on the evening of the
third day and soon fell asleep.
H1 Of1Ohf f0 TOLL ro,, fhof r %hop hol
I still have, in fact-the habit of using
a night lamp. Icannot bear to feel my
self in total darkness for an instant.
"That night-it is truly a singular
thing, and l have never been able to
think of it without a strange sensation
that night l was awakened by a sharp
cracking sound in the great silence. l
have never known what that noise was
doubtless the night lamp going out,
for it was perfectly dark. At first a feel
ing Of awful anguish oppressed me, a
feeling always have when in the dark,
and before l had time to fully awaken
l heard-yes, my friend, l actually
heard-the effect Of nervousness, you
say?-it matters not-I heard a voice,
which whispered very low, Jacques
Lerminier.
"a cold shiver ran through my whole
body, though I saw no reason for it. In
a second / had risen, lighted a candle
and reread the letter from Baden Baden.
Why had I not d~eciphered it before? 1t
was perfectly plain.
"Lerlninier was q refined boy, oblig-
ing, but a little wild, whom I had loved
much when we were young together,
soon lost from sight. then found again
in those momentary encounters where a
rapid clasp Of the hand and an earnest
DO you remember is all, and then
separation, perhaps for years.
"Poor jacques! That is what we al
ways called him at the school of St.
Cyr.
"He should certainly have had his
l. 900 francs.
II looked at the clock. 1t was past J
midnight. Nothing could be done until
morning. Immediately I wrote a letter
to Baden Baden, excusing myself, ex-
planning all. I placed the money in it
and sealed it. And while l did this I
that the whisper which /
had heard erewhile was exactly like the
voice Of Jacques when deeply moved.
"How strange is the work Of memory
in our brains, l said to myself, and how
was it possible for me to recall at the
same time and while yet asleep the
name and the voice Of poor jacques
"Then I went back to bed again, Salts
fed and calm. l did not dream any
more Of the whispering voice in the
blaokness Of my silent chamber. No,
indeed. / thought no more Of it until
days later, when l received a dis
patch from Baden Baden. My registered
letter had been remailed to me.
"'Poor Jacques had killed himself
at midnight two days before, at the mo-
ment when my sleep was interrupted by
a sharp crack-that sharp crack like
the report Of a pistol"
Brignac coughed slightly to clear his
II positively insist that my child
write a legible hand" he said,
with a sad smile. -From the French
For Short Stories.