Evening journal., 1899-10-27
THE SEQUEL.

Count CorrIe1lrs greeting was a lei
surely and fine performance.
There Is a grace and a reserved gra-
ciousness about a well-bred foreigner
which all Americans have not, even
when members OF that much-maligned
and envied social strata. the one which
leads the world in this republic OF ours,
just as il does in monarchical England
and imperial Russia.
The American usually presents him
or herself. whether In drawing-room or
on a platform before a crowded audi
ence, with ease, and most creditably.
But there is a fine. thin line OF de-
marlxation. very distinct, which sepa-
rates the ease and simplicity OF manner
OF those accustomed. from times re-
mote, to that Difference paid to super
iority Of merit and position, with the
self-assertion OF the Individual who Is
forced to battle his way to the consid-
Grafton OF others. and, however slight,
1t can be detected without difficulty.
Count Corrielli, although in his six
ties, was still an eminently agreeable,
cultured. even a charming man.
Slight and OF medium height, with
hair abundant and white as the driven
snow, whose contrast OF coloring was
vivid, with eyes dark, sleepy and inn
penetrable, and his somewhat sWarthy
complexion, not altogether free from
: lines around the thin lips, which shut
firm and straight, unc0nceal ed by
beard or mustache, for his was clean
shaven face made the count distin-
guished-looking man. while he was a
conspicuous and attractive figure wher-
ever he happened to be.
"How delightful your solitude is," re-
marked the count, with a sigh of con-
tent, taking the seat near the fire, and
her own chair. suggested by a faint
gesture OF Estelles pretty hand.
Looking keenly at the beautiful face
before him, the heightened color, the
gray eyes, in which a mist seemed 10
linger sorrowfully. and the q tfemulous
motion OF the fingers. fluttering rather
aimlessly among the silver of the tea
/ service, he drew his conclusiona5
"A part lul," the count detasted the
sight OF a samovar.
There was no tea, Russian, japanese,
English. nor other. which had the
slightest attraction for this descendant
Of an old Neapolitan house, whose
ducal palace, somewhat aban dOned-
for the count was a confirmed wander
er. spending most of his life in Lon
don and Paris-lOoked Holita ~ and
beautiful from the cliffs Of thei noun
tain side, where It stood am Ong its
gardens, down on the blue water 5 of the
bay stretching out at its feet.
That grand old castle which I,stelle's
thoughts had pictured to her as fine
locale for a bright Christmas ga thering
OF American wanderers on th Con
i tinent.
with pleasure-No. Neither cream
nor sugar"
II the feminine world has diecreed
that one must drink the abomina tion,
the count once said privately to- some
club friends. why, let IL be withon any
additions. They only make It wtlrse.
mo callers? Why, II seems to M this
Is an ideal afternoon for friends TO drop
in A little gossip, my dear young
lady, fits In admirably with tn , dull
weather outside, and would add ttl your
charmingly bright hreside, whe re nc
shadows would ever dare to gatl YER. II
such a thing we're possible
What a comedy of errOrsl" sal Il Es-
telle's thoughts with a shudder.
''Oh, yes; l caught a glimpse of Miss
Bennington as their carriage CT ssec
mine" said the count slowly, 1hilC
with commendable virtue he sat SIP pins
Estelle's tea.
"Oh, II he would onIy gos Am I nevei
to have one quiet hour TO myse lf?'
whispered Estelle's thoughts SADLY II
is maddeningl But he stays and
urges"
"Why. surely you must put an erd tC
it Estelle. once and for all, they ON
manded. you'll be glad TO get a way
from this country and from all these
dear hateful people.
And after all very few men can et tua
the count, as everyone says and thin ks
You know he's devoted to you. and ,ioI
need not stay more than month EFT {
time in his ducal palace on the heig ATS
OF course there have been marriaiges
and births, and deaths. and Joy, .int
sorrow. and revelry. and crime, iinC
wretchedness within its vast walls
through all these centuries. and the
spirits of the past must haunt its f1es.
coed corridors and sigh through it!
halls and conservatives and wander
through its myrtle and citron groves
But what do we care?
Anything to get away. Anything tC
put the ocean between you. And cont.
nents, too, il possible. so that you viii
never, never again hear his name