The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1899-06-22
A Mysterious Guest


cenium-box at the opera ball. Our eyes
were idly studying the motley mosaic
formed by the maskers dancing to the
witching music of Strass' bow, when
the door of the box was flung open and,
with silken frou-frou, three masks en-
tered and greeted us by name. Clio the
Fair, Antonio Chantilly and Susannah
Jackson were as well known in the
world of artists for their beauty as for
their wit. Cantal gave them chairs,
asking with smile: You are playing
truants to the ball?"
Suddenly we caught sight of you'll"
cried Antonio; 1--WE will have supper to-
gether, if you've nothing better on
foot"
"Well and good!" said Cantal, turn
ing to me; Il will engage the red din
ing-room at once, if you are all agreed"
In the midst of his last words my eye
was caught by the face of man of 35
in the box opposite; he had an oriental
pallor. Lowering his opera glass he
bowed to me. After moments thought
I remembered he had rendered me a
trif1ing service, such as custom permits
between Observation-Disclosures
about certain brand of cigars, if | re-
member rightly returned his bow.
/ had hardly reached the foyer when the
stranger approached me- Recalling his
courtesy in Germany. could do no less
than invite him to join us, if he was
quite alone, in the gay hubbub.
"And whom shall have the honor of
presenting to our merry party?
asked, smiling, when he had accepted.
Baron Won H." he said. But, in
view of the indulgence of the ladies, the
difficulties of pronunciation, and the
carnival season. let me assume, for az
hour, another name, no matter what
with a laugh-"Baron Saturn. if you
like"
This caprice surprised me slightly,
but | fell in with his fancy, and an
nounced him formally under the my
theological title he had hit upon. His
fantastic appellation was received with
favor; Clio insisted he was a king from
the Thousand and One Nights" trav-
cling incog.
After the preliminary compliments,
Susannah Jackson, between two ire
sistible yawns, asked: will the baron
join us at supper, for the sake of SYM
metry?"
81 am very sorry to refuse" said the
stranger. "Unfortunately circum-
stopoa of copitaI ;m1nrta will call
me away in a few hours"
"a make believe duel ?" said Clio, with
q pout
"No, madame; rencontre, since you
have deigned to consult me-"
"Bah; a mere trifle; not worth cross
ing swords over, you may be sure;
words exchanged at en- opera ball don't
count; you are stranger, that's plain
ly to be seen."
"Quote true, madame; | am some
what of a stranger everywhere" the
baron replied, with bow.
"Allons! Do you get people to coax
you?"
every seldom, assure you!" the old
fellow replied, both gallantly and
equivocally. Cantal and l exchanged
glances; what was he driving at? 1t
might turn out amusing, in any case.
Like child who insists on having
what is refused to it, Antonio seized his
arm, exclaiming: "You belong to us till
dawn!"
He surrendered; we left the opera.
So here we were with the prospect be-
fore us of several hours relative in
timacy with a man of whom we knew
absolutely nothing, except that he had
played at the Wiesbaden Casino and
studied Havana cigars.
Leaning back in, the carriage, Clio
called to the footman: ITO the Maison
Doree!" The foreigners heavy car
riage was rolling after ours. Autonie,
better known under her romantic nom
de guerre, "Yseult," had accepted his
mysterious escort.
Installed in the red dining-room,
Joseph received strict orders not to let
in single living being, except the
Ostend oysters-and our illustrious
friend, the fantastic little DR.. Florian
les Eglisottes, if by chance he should
come for his proverbial ecrevisse.
A great log rolled in the fireplace
The air was heavy with the scent of
furs and winter flowers Wine stood
chilling in silver coolers. Bunches of
camellias trembled on their wire stems
in crystal vases. Outside dense snow
mingled with rain fell, and we caught
a muffied sound of carriages.
During the sparkling sallies of the
supper, gave myself up to my innocent
mania of observation; was not long in
discovering that the Saxon baron was
worthy of study. Our chance guest was
not wildly hilarious, that was certain.
His features and his bearing were not
lacking in the conventional distinction
that is passport to society: his accent
was not disagreeable as with most for
eigners. Strangely enough it was his
pallor that was against him: from time
to time he turned a chalky. ghastly
white. His lips were as thin as a line
drawn by paint brush; his eyebrows
met in perpetual frown.
An hour winged by, freighted with