The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1899-11-23


ITO wear to Nice?"
EYES,"
Nine. de Nymbe burst into laugh;
Chillaye felt annoyed. Positively" he
said, sullxily, ''as soon as one leaves
Paris, the country becomes hideously
monotonous; these paths we've been
following for the last hour look all
alike"
swell, but we don't complain Of nd
ing daily on the same roads in the
Bois?"
ayes, but the Bois is quite different
matter to this, and far prettier."
Chillaye began to be in a horrible
temper. Nine. de Nymbe's good humor
was irritating. And he envied every
thing about her-her thick veil, the
heavy. golden coils that protected her
neck. even her position in the saddle,
for he was getting a veritable cramp.
The prospect of passing whole days to-
gether astride broad-hanked White Cat
filled him with terror. Seeing old Zap
tiste forging ahead, turning to right
and left without hesitation, crossing
bridges, mounting slopes, Chillaye
asked: "Has your coachman ridden to
Nice before?"
"Not all the way, but he knows the
beginning. Isn't the country growing
pretty? Look at that little island.
There's nothing near Paris as pretty"
Its an island like another, it seems
to me. The Grande Yatte is far pref
tier"
"Do you think so? The day is i'm
proving. The fog has not entirely
cleared yet, but the sun can be felt
through it,
81 should say so. It's given me an
awful headache; 1t must be sun
stroke!"
"Why, sunstrokes drive people mad"
"That's about it, otherwise do you
think l would jog to Nice by slow
stages?"
"You certainly show no enthusiasm,
my poor Chillaye."
"You didn't stipulate for enthusiasm
you must admit that when one is SUI
fering from sunstroke, ones mood
Surely. you don't suppose pale sun
like that"
"All the more dangerous, because one
takes no precautions; I'm not used to
the low hat I've got on. A tall hat heats
the head less, because it is farther away
from It,"
"Yes, but it's nearer the sun. SO that
IL amounts to the same thing"
"Now you're chatting me-"
mot at all. But you're in such bad
form that I'm inclined to give you back
your word and go to Nice without you.
Good-by. Hurry back to Paris!"
Hurry? Why. we're three hours
from Paris"
Nevertheless. here we are at the
Boulevard Maillot and the Garden Of
Acclimatation; in a quarter of an hour
you can be at home. For the last two
hours we have been riding in the Bois.
When you said just now that the
Grande Yatte was prettier than the Is
land wanted you to admire, we we're
passing the Grande Yatte."
at is this cursed fog!"
"Perhaps. But admit that even in
fine weather you would not have
guessed where you are, for you only
know few allees in the Bois. Good-by,
Chillaye, don't propose to anyone else
to go to the ends of the earth with them
they might take you at your word!"
"And you-are you going to Nice"
II never thought of such a thing!
I'm going back to lunch. Good appe-
tite!"
And off she rode at n brisk trot.
The fog having cleared, the weather
was radiant; swarms of riders, detained
by the thick morning, were now coming
to the Bois at the usual hour for leaving
1t. Chillaye, recovering from his stupe-
faction, rode slowly down the avenue,
rejecting that he had been done.
"Mme. de Nymbe is mad. She has
cooled me of, and l am glad oft. She's
pretty, Of course-devilishly pretty
but she's far too original. All ca!
What are all those simpletons staring
at me for? Do look like man who
has just been made fool Of? Do they
read 1t in my face? Positively, Kahn
trailles laughed as he passed me.
What's wrong about me? All, sapristi!
It's my ridiculous get-up; my boots,
and my flask, and my hat, and the re-
volver-especially the revolver! Hang
1t all! What wouldn't give to be rid
Of the revolver. Good enough! Here
are the Flirts-and one of the little
Rirfrays, and D'Oronge. must get rid
Of It, at all cost"
And siding up to the edge Of the
road, in spite of the efforts CT those who
wanted to keep to their right, he man.
aged to fling the revolver into bed OF
| gilly-fowers. Just as he passed the
Flirts and their escort, policeman ran
after him, brandishing the revolver.
"M'sieu. m'sieu! You have lost some.
thing!" Adapted for The Argonaut
from the French Of "Gyp."
slept Four Hours q Day.
Alexander Won Humboldt, the great