Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1899-12-09

in my mind had accounted for some of
Charles later actions. He had been ire
mendously fond of an elder brother-from
whom, by the way. he had inherited most
Of the money that enabled him to pursue
his fancies. The elder Cummings had in
tended 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 q fiacre, with curious stab wound
in his heart. / well remember now how his
brothers death affected Charlie. He was
in New York at the time, and had been
studying law in a desuItory sort of a way,
but at once he had given it up, sought new
pastures. and cut mis- old acquaintance
right ard left. Then he had gone away to
the country, no one knew where. for
short time. He returned to New York, and
in three days had FASTENED to Europe. All
this ! went over in my mind, but my
thoughts We're interrupted
Where do you dine old man.? Charlie
asked suddenly, breaking the long pause.
Nowhere 1 replied. That is, / have
not decided"
Come dine with me-
why thanks, L will
Cummings was smiling. I remembered
that smile very well 1t generally antict-
pated some little humorous anecdote or
Notwithstanding that had appeared
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
| get And here Charlie detailed one of
| the adventures of the careless undergrad
! uate days. 1t was most enjoyable. / could
| hardly imagine he was the same man. All
1 at once. however. he stopped in the middle
| OF a sentence and drumuned with his fingers
| on the table.
Well. we'll. WELL" he said. TT must have
| been a devil of a mystery
/ paid no attention to his depression, and
| tried to recall his thoughts to what he had
been saving. 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 and
| down the street to a little restaurant that
l knew well. The tables had marble tops,
| leather-cushloned seats ran along the wallis
| and mirrors stretched from the low VAIN
| scoang up TO the ceiling. Queer people
/ came in here. Strange. haggard-looking
/ women in brilliant colors, and uncanny.
| ragged-headed men, students and writer's
| and poets. sad devils and gay, bickered or
| laughed, with their reflections doubling and
| trehiing about them in the angles of the
| mirrors
i There was only one person in the cafe
| when we entered. The dining room was
farther back: l recognized the high. bulg-
/ ing forehead the death-head face the
notify. struggling beard of Paul Verlaine-
| murderer OF instincts, recorder of the beau
| tiful! ] had never met him, although once
\ ne mad been pointed out 10 NE in a place
| where mere curiosity leads no one twice
| To admire and detest character is q COM
| pick feeling; 1 had never wished to place
myself IN a position to be subject to the in
| suits which this man seemed at liberty to
| throw at those who spoke to him.
| But. wonderful to relate, the poet, looking
| up. caught Charles eye and smiled-smiled
| eagerly.
| "Ah. mon ami" he exclaimed, In a tone
| Of thorough welcome, rising from his
| corner.
| Charlie stepped forward If they had
| been two ccnfreres who had exchanged
| thoughts along some of the fower-laden
banks and meadows of Verlaine's imagina-
| ton the welcome could not have been more
| er's hands across the table Charlie pre-
| scented me. Verlaine honored me with a
snar} and grunt. / sat down at the table
| Now. l 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
mana width OF ahsinthe. neat, and as If IL
| were the lightest French wine and the
| older man measured glasses with him
| observed them as were they characters fr
a play even studied the reflection of the
back Of Verlaine's head in the mirror
great head. broad and noble.
Al last 1 caught the substance of thei,
talk am neither sQueamish nor old-fash.
dered. 1 could stand It no longer.
Are We dining together?" interrupted
pulling my friend by the elbow. tTn
beastly hungry"
1 make
some rude remark, but he Checked him.
| self. -'ii
or course" he said, come"
Neriaine arose He bowed politely tc
| Charlie. as II somehow the latter bad on
tanned command of his respect was for
gotten in the parting, at which I much re-
| ioiced. -
You are very chummy." I said I,
| Charlie. as we seated ourselves at a tahIe
Well" he said In answer. 80 me- b,