The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1899-12-10

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get away. He Will stay there. too, he
added, with chuckle. "But somehow
can't make il! Poor little Mauricel He
thinks he is the Caliph of Bagdad. Odd
10 remark, that is just what he's cut out
TO be. Now, there's happiness"
II was apparent to me now that this was
the stFangest case that had ever been
brought under my observation. A man
perfectly sane, or at most only a third
wasted, wishing to sink, if possible the
rest OF him in the oblivion of dementia,
an impending position generally so fright
Iul 10 the threatened that it causes them
either to hasten their own defeat by mel
ahcholy, or to fight it bravely and undis-
covered to the end
remembered a strange thing about
cummings in college, and what had been
sAlu OF MIN during his first years after
graduation; he had never been drunk that
any one could remember. I myself had
seen him wax mellow, jovial. enthusiast
tie, and had seen his wit grow clearer and
quicker, as if alcohol were a fuel only to
ms mental machinery. When the others
had reached the period at which they
wished 10 sing, fight or go to sleep, ac-
cording to their natures, then Charlie
would arise and saunter over to his room
10 read Schaupenhauer or Browning as
the case might be. or sometimes to swing
ms lmaginations to the verge of poetic
inspiration.
Even now l saw traces of this in the
erect of the absinthe upon his nerves.
HIS mind grew steadier, and he had stop
ped the nervous movement of his foot.
recollect an occurrence, the facts of
which were not generally known, but
which in my mind had accounted for
some of Charles later actions He had
been tremendously fond of an elder bro
ther-from whom. by the way, he had in
herited most of the money that enabled
him to pursue his fancies. The elder Cum
mings had intended to do something with
his life, and had taken up the profession
of surgery. In pursuance of his studies
he had gone to Vienna and there one day
had been found dead in a fiacre with the
curious stab wound in his heart l well
remembered now how his brothers death
affected Charlie. He was in New York at
the time and had been studying law in
desultory sort of a way, but at once
he had given it up, sought new pastures,
and cut his old acquaintance right and
left. Then he had gone away to the
country, no one knew where, for a short
time He returned 10 New York and in
three days had FASTENED to Europe. All
this 1 went over in my mind, but my
thoughts were interrupted.
Where do you dine, Old man?' Char
lie asked suddenly, breaking the long
pause.
Nowhere" I replied. THAT is, have
not decided"
Come dine with me-
"Why thanks, / will
Cummings was smiling. I remembered
that smile very well. 1t generally an
ticipated some little humorous anecdote
or ecollection-something that had APP
pealed TO his artistic side-and Charlie
could talk his thoughts out loud better
than any man L ever knew.
Il say Denny q noticed that my name
Ervs
get" And here Charlie detailed one OF
the adventures of the careless undergrad
uate days. 1t was most enjoyable. L
could hardly imagine he was the same
man. All at once, however he stopped in
the middle of a sentence and drummed
with his fingers on the table.
well, well, we'll" he said. 1T must
have been devil of a mystery"
l paid no attention 10 his aggression, ana
tried to recall his thoughts TO what he
had been saying. There was no response,
and Charlie hurriedly arose.
Come old chap, let's go and chase some
food" he said in his old manner.
followed him out of the courtyard ana
down the street to a little restaurant that
1 knew well. The tables had marble tops,
leather cushioned seats ran. along the
walls, and mirrors stretched from the dow
wainscoting up to The ceiling. Queer peo-
pie came in here. Strange, haggard-look-
ing women in brilliant colors and I'M
canny, ragged-headed men, stGdentN and
writers and poets, sad devils and gay
bickered or laughed, with their reflections
doubling and trebling about them In the
angles of the mirrors.
There was only one person in the cafe
when we entered. The dining room was
farther back i recognized the high, bulg-
ing forehead, the death-head face the
notify, struggling beard of Paul Verlaine
murderer of instincts, recorder of the
beautiful! / had never met him, although
once he had been pointed out to me in a
place where mere curiosity leads no one
twice. To admire and detest character
is a complex feeling; 1 had never wished
10 place myself in a position to be sub
iect to the insults which this man seemed
at liberty to throw at those who spoke to
him.
But wonderful to relate, the poet look
ing up. caught Charles eye and smiled
smiled eagerly.
'Ah. mon ami" he exclaimed, in a tone
of thorough welcome, rising from his cor
ner.
Charlie stepped forward If they had
been two confreres who had exchanged
thoughts along some of the flower-laden
banks and meadows of Verlaine's imagi-
nation. the welcome could not have been
more true or heartfelt. They grasped each
others hands across the table Charlie
presented me. Verlaine honored me with
a snarl and grunt. 1 sat down at the
table
Now, 1 speak French; that is the
French of the stranger, but / could no
more follow the conversation than 1 could
follow the debate OF an Indian council
The drinks were ordered and Charlie drank
half a hands width of absinthe, neat, and
as if il were the lightest French wine, and
the older man measured glasses with him.
1 observed them as were they characters
in a play. l even studied the reflection
of the back of Verlaine's head in the mir
ror-a great head, broad and noble.
At last / caught the substance of their
talk. l am neither squeamish nor old
fashioned, but 1 declare, upon my soul,
| shuddered. l could stand it no longer.
Are we dining together?" l Interrupted,
pulling my friend by the elbow, I'm
beastly hungry"
/ feared Cummings was about to make
some rude remark, but he checked him
self.
"Of course" he said, come"
Verlaine arose. He bowed politely TO