Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-06-07

ing that rare beautiful smile to her face
she made a quick impetuous movement, as
If he were to throw 1t away, and holding
up her left hand touched the third finger
significantly. Then the curtains were
drawn, and Paul saw her no more that
day.
But again the lilac blossoms brought
him a message, for when he returned in
the evening it was to find that some one
had left for him a basket filled with the
lovely flowers. ''Was there any other mes
sage?" Paul asked himself the question
eagerly as he examined it. Yes, deep
down, Nesting among the soft green
leaves, was a twisted scroll, which Paul
opened with trembling hands. At last, a
message from her-from that strange,
beautiful girl between whom and himself
there seemed to be some curious affinity.
All, do not think unkindly of me, monsieur,
because 1 crave for a little sympathy and true
friendship You cannot realize how much
alone ! am. There is none to whom l dare
speak my innermost thoughts; no friend to
understand or give me any sympathy. My
parents-I dare not, for it is they who have
sold me-nay worse, for they imbued me with
the idea that what l did was right and true.
Ny soul revolts against the lies which / utter
ed at the altar, and which / must live every
day as long as my life lasts. My husband! l
shrink from his touch, and yet that is cruel to
him. Religion might bring me some ~consola-
ton, but it bids me honor and love those who
have made me what I am. All my life long I
have been surrounded by those who told me
what they deemed expedient-never the truth.
I am only a weak woman, and somehow it
comforts me to think you will read these lines
and there will be one in the world who will
understand. I am alone-alone-alonel
There was no signature. The simple
lines touched Paul and reused every chiv-
alrous instinct in him. Every luxury that
wealth could give her and beauty such as
any woman might delight In, and yet
that letter with it's pitiful wall Of loneli-
ness.
All the brightness and gayety seemed to
have gone, and the hum from the busy,
merry streets resolved itself into discords
that beat into Paul's brain. He felt as If
a nightingale were being dissected before
his very eyes. With a comprehension that
was almost feminine in it's insight he
knew that there was no Interior motive
In her desire for sympathy that it was not
the cry of the would be emancipated wom-
an longing to break her VOWS and indulge
in a vulgar amour.
1t was a little time before Paul dared
venture on a written message to her, and
then he had to wait his opportunity to
convey it to her hands unseen. At last
he managed by dextrously throwing it in
on her balcony.
MADAME-I have to thank you for your con-
fidence and for the friendship with which you
have honored me. These written words can
but i~nadequately express what I owe to your
sweet and gracious sympathy. You have
brought a charm into my life that time and
distance can never efface, for the thought of
you never fails to bring purer ideals and to
stir my weak efforts to better ends.
And so for more than a week this
strange friendship held him in its thralls.
But the inevitable came at last. One
morning, when the curtains remained
closed, Paul could give himself no rest
from tormenting fears. Had they been
~discovered2 So far as he knew no eye
could overlook them from the situation Of
the rooms, but who knew what tales a spy
might not carry? Had he been so careless
of her?
It was late in the evening before he
ventured out, and then he took his way
49, -, ~ ~ a,,;t - noo,ms ooor-
| w. - - .Ss NJ.
pieo NY A"ele anu her nusu"nu. Anoio
were some figures OF the balcony, and
Paul's breath came quickly as he recog-
nized them. Would she know him? Yes.
A long suede glove dropped at his feet,
and almost Immediately he heard a voice
saying, "Joseph, madame has dropped her
glove"
~ a ," ~ ~ s.ant p"v soamsea Ia
40 - oe'e ~. ~ .,s 49, "aI nv
.,;al. tha,nL4 - 49, u, h;a
- II, 800 ~ .,,sn 49, ~ na,at NV
aas.oa ..,,th 49, w. uTs ~, nionso @mons;our9,,
d., .%nno,,ao.aS a. ,n%;1s;nalv anorah
+hon ana u.a,haa on oonnratniat;nn h;m.
Sa,s 20 ~ nna o,oons 49, ha5 had
=. ~, ;m%n,,aan+ onS ro+ ha mas
a,o% - IA n;ltaa ~ A rtt,o doto'r
go na a, Lsi ~ Nv ao.,n ,u;th
aha uana;o,0 n ma "' ~ '
VIZ lio0 ".'
An, now mncn pleasure your ies1er gave me
You w"rds W." 7 fest vn, undarstoodi Bas II onaned
nv eves tn tho danger for Won and me- also.
and now / must never nee YOU again. Fate is
cruel, for now I must deny myself the solace
Of your friendship. Tomorrow we leave Paris,
and believe me when say that shall never
iorget tnese days l am Wrltlng 1nis noe
hnow,ng u : snai h.na nave A .ns uppor ~ sr;s,J u
the veil Of silence must fall between rs. You
have given me new courage, and 1 am no Ion.
ger so lonely. i will try to be good-I will
be %good-and perhaps in that world beyond
we shall know each other again and all Will
be made perfect IN that nope my TREND
aoieu' aaleu. ADAI.
one evening IN Coseht Garden tneacer
nve years later looked across ana saw
IN a Dox a man whose race a MN
with q curious membranes VINO Is
that, DO you Know A~nstruthers. ne saia
to his friend. " seem TO know the race.
Una manf An imperial nighness, no
less. Inc grand duke-he is very iono OF
cuttlhg aDouO one WORTH lncoghl0o. When