Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1898-01-13

| consists IN the little WORDS Qu1 sal
All the world comes to him wht
knows how to wait. l knew this, anG
had waited, and my world-a' world
Of vengeance to me at last.
The slow-revolving wheel of Time
brought me to the day before m.
strange wedding-the eve of my mar
riage with my own wife! All tn
preparations we're made-nothing was
left undone that could add to tht
splendor of the occasion. For though
the nuptial ceremony was to be some
what quiet and private in character
and the marriage breakfast was tC
include only a few of our more init
mate acquaintance, the proceedings
were by no means to terminate
tamely. The romance of these re.
markable espousals was not to find
it's conclusion in bathos. No; the
bloom and aroma of the interesting
event were to be enjoyed in the even
ing, when grand supper and ball
given by me, the happy and much-to-
be-envied bridegroom, was to take
place in the hotel which I had made
my residence for SO long. No ex-
pense was spared for this, the las
entertainment offered by me in my
brilliant career as the successful Count
Cesare OLIVIA After it, the dark cur
tain would fall On the played-out
drama, never to rise again.
Everything that art, taste, and royal
luxury could suggest was included in
the arrangements for this brilliant
ball, to which a hundred and fifty
guests had been invited, not one of
who had refused to attend.
And now-now in the afternoon of
this, the last Of my sef-imposed pro-
bation-I sat alone with my fair wife
| in the drawing room Of the Villa Ro-
mani, conversing lightly ON various
subjects connected with the festivities
doWs were open-the warm spring
sunlight lay like filmy veil of woven
gold on the tender green of the young
grass, birds sung for joy and fitted
from branch to branch, now posing
hoveringly above their nests, now
soaring with all the luxury of perfect
liberty into the high heaven Of cloud
less blue-the great creamy buds of
the magnolia looked ready to burst
into wide and splendid flowers between
odor of violets and primroses foated
OF every delicious breath Of cir, and
round the wide veranda the climbing
white china roses had already I'M
furled their little crumpled rosette-
like blossoms to the balmy wind. 1t
was spring in Southern Italy-spring
in the land where, above all other
lands, spring is lovely sudden and
brilliant in it's beauty as might be the
smile of happy angel. Gran Dio!-
angel for my companion at that mo-
ment? What fair being, even in Mo-
hammed's Paradise Of Hours, could
Outshine such charms as those which
it was my proud privilege to gaze
upon without rebuke-dark eyes, rip
ping golden hair, a dazzling and per-
feet face, form to tempt the virtue
of Galahad, and lips that an emperor
might long to touch-in vain Well,
no!-not altogether in vain; If his
imperial majesty could afford a bride
large enough-let us say diamond
the size of a pigeons egg-he might
possibly purchase one, nay!-perhaps
two kisses from that seductive red
mouth, sweeter than the ripest straw
berry. 1 glanced at her furtively from
Of my gaze; and glad was 1 OF the
sheltering protection Of the dark
glasses I wore, for 1 knew and felt
that there was terrible look in my
eyes-the look Of f-famished tiger
ready to spring on some long-desired
piece of prey. She herself was ex-
ceptionally bright and cheerful; with
her riante features and agile move
ments, she reminded me OF some
tropical bird of gorgeous plumage
swaying to and fro on q branch Of
equally gorgeous blossom.
you are like a prince in a fairy
tale, Cesare,' she said, with little
delighted laugh; Everything you do
is superbly done! How pleasant it
is to be rich-there is nothing better
in all the world"
Except Lowell" / returned, with a
grim attempt to be sentimental.
Her large eyes softened Like the
pleading eyes of tame fawn.
"Ah, yes!" and she smiled with e1-
pressive tenderness, except love. But
when one has love and wealth, what
paradise life can be-"
$50 great paradise" l asserted
that it lie hardly worth while trying
to get into heaven at all! viii you
make earth a heaven for me, Nina
mia, or viii you only love me as much
or as little-as you loved your late
husband?"
She shrugged her shoulders and
pouted like child.
why are you so fond OF talking
about my late husband, Cesare?" she
asked, peevishly; 81 am so tired Of his
name, Besides, one does not always
care to be reminded of dead people
and he died SO horribly too! ! have
often told you that did not love him
at all. l liked him little, and l was
! quite i'll when the dreadful monk, who
looked like a CHEST himself, came