The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1899-12-21

HMN everywhere, a little
o o doubtful on his
JE=GLaA n legs, perhaps, and
MMAA&GANt( now and then talk
X&yg&#GENaSE- ing the wall with
M$HBgSLzzszR 40 his shoulder; for it
M-1ggS was long since he
&HSGNG[y had tasted absinthe,
- and he was then
~ rejecting that the
absinthe had been
a misconception. Not that he regret
ted excess on such a glorious day, but
he made a mental memorandum to be-
ware; he must not, a second time, be-
come the victim of a deleterious hab-
it. He had his wine out of the cellar
in a twinkling; he arranged the sacri-
fetal vessels, some on the white table
cloth, some on the sideboard, still
crusted with historic earth. He was
in and out of the kitchen, plying Anas-
TASTE with vermOuth, heating her with
glimpses of the future, estimating their
| new wealth at ever larger figures; and
before they sat down to supper, the
lady's virtue had melted in the fire Of
his enthusiasm, her timidity a dis
| appeared; she, TOO, had begun to speak
| d~isparagingly of the life at Gretz; and
as she took her place and helped the
| soup, her eyes shone with the glitter
of prospective diamonds.
All through the meal, she and the
doctor made and unmade fairy plans.
They bobbed and bowed and pledged
each other. Their faces ran over
with smiles; their eyes scattered spark
les, as they projected the doctors po-
litical honors and the lady's drawing
room ovations.
"But you will not be q Red!" cried
Anastasie.
II am Left Centre to the CORE" re-
piled the doctor.
Madame Gastein will present us
we shall find ourselves forgotten" said
the lady.
Never" protested the doctor.
Beauty and talent leave a mark" =
II nave positively forgotten how to
Dress" she sighed.
Darling, you make me blush" cried
he. yours has been a tragic mar
riage!"
But your success-to see you APP
preciated, honored, your name in all
the papers, that will be more than
pleasure-it will be heaven!" she
cried.
"And once a week." said the doctor,
archly scanning the s%yllables, "once
a week-one good little game of bac-
carat?"
"Only once a week." she questioned,
threatening him with a finger.
81 swear it by my political honor"
cried he.
Il spoil you," she said, and gave
him her hand.
He covered it with kisses.
Jean-Marie escapes into the night.
The moon swung high over Gretz. He
went down to the garden end and sat
on the jetty. The river ran by with
eddies of oily silver, and a low, monot-
onous song. Faint wells of mist moved
among the poplars or the farther side
The reeds were quietly nodding. A
hundred times already had the boy
sat, on such a night, and watched the
streaming river with untroubled fan
cy. And this perhaps was to be the
last. He was to leave this familiar
hamlet, this green, rustling country
this bright and quiet stream; he wa!
to pass into the great city; and hi
dear lady mistress vas to o bedi
zened into saloons; his good, garru
lous, kind-hearted master to become
, brawling deputy; and both be los
I forever to Jean-Marie and their bette
selves. He knew his own defects; h
! knew he must sink into less and les
consideration in the turmoil of a cit,
I life; sink more and more from tn
child into the servant. And he began
dimly to believe the doctors prophe
sizes of evil. He could see a change il
both. His generous i~ncredulity faile
T him for this once; a child must hav
perceived that the Hermitage had com
pleted what the absinthe had begun
If this were the first day, what woul
: be the last? eff necessary, wreck tn
!, train" thought he, remembering tn
) doctors parable. He looked round o
II the delightful scene; he drank dee
of the charmed night air, laden wit
the scent of hay. eff necessary, Wrec
Y the train" he repeated. And he ros
" and returned to the house.
VI TO Re c~oNTINuEU.|