Mexico Missouri message., 1900-05-31
THE LIONS CLAW.

THE LIONS CLAW.
Lieut.. Julien de Rhe had returned
in a sad state from his station in CO.
chin China. Convalesccnt, after three
months Illness at his mothers home
in Tuuraine, he shivcred at the first
wintry breath in the autumn air, and
was ordered by the doctor to Pau:
Just what you want-mild but brac-
ing climate"
SO in November Julien sat at his
sunsy window in Hotel Garderes, gaz-
ing at the Pyrenees and smoking a
cigarette in honor of his recovery.
MY faith! Pau Is full of pretty
women" he said to himself the first
time he went to listen to the military
band at the Place Royale. Neither
llbertine nor fop, the young fellow
thrilled with fresh JOY in living as
he put on his coat with its shining
three straps. the rosette OF the Legion
of Honor in the buttonhole-the ros-
cite his mother had laid on his bed
when he was so Ill, and that he thought
he would only wear in his coffin.
How jolly Pau was, anyhow, with
its vast horizon, it's snowy peaks its
brilliant sun, the cosmopolitan crowd,
where pretty foreigners chartered all
the languages of Europe, like tropc
birds in an avlary. A few sad sights,
to be sure-the consumptive young
Englishman in bath chair, wrapped
in plaids, with the eyes of boiled
fish, a black taffeta muller over his
mouth. 1t gave one a shiver, yet
man Is selflsh-it made Julien remem-
Der what a skeleton he had been three
months ago, with chocolate rings un-
der his eyes, and here he was cured,
tossing silver coins to the beggars and
watching the hearty little American
girls in fy-away frocks and black
gloves and stockings, dancing ring
around-a-rosy" to the bands quick
step.
Just the frame N mind for falling in
love, wasn't it? Which the happy con-
'"i''N'hN pibNttuNu W w lllt 81 lilht
he set eyes on Mile. Olga Babarine, the
belle of the Russian colony, as she
dismounted in front Of Hotel Gasson--
the coup de foudre, in fact. Back from
fox hunting one evening at 5. she had
slipped from her horse into the arms
of the nimblest of the pink-coate ed
adorers who rushed for her stirrup.
Striking the veranda table with her
crop, she had called for a cup of milk,
and drank it off at a draught. Look
ing like Primaticcio goddess, her
slim figure and copper-colored hair,
Illuminated by the fiaring sunset, she
paused, laughing merrily, a creamy
mustache on her upper lip. Suddenly
grave, with a curt, imperious nod. she
left the redcoats and entered the hotel,
tapping her riding habit with her
whip.
Three days later, after many a
who is she? l must know her." to
his acquaintances, Julien got himself
introduced-not a difficult process
and Joined the fair Russians court.
Was she a Russian, after all, this in
toXicating creature. who rode all day
and waltzed all night? Yes, by her
putative father, her mothers first
husband, Count Babarine.
But everyone remembered that at
the time of Olga's birth, her mother
the daughter, by the way, of a New
York banker named Jacobson-was
getting divorce, probably on account
OF her notorious liaison with a north
ern prince royal, some Christian, or
Oscar, or other. What was the ma
tionality of a child brought up success
sively in a Scottish nursery. a Neapol-
itan convent, Geneyan pensionnat,
who had slept half her nights on the
cushions of the express, whose men,
DRY was a stereoscope in which re-
volved series of watering places and
winter resorts, whittier her mother,
handsome still in spite OF erysipelas,
had carried the ennui of a fading CO.
quette along with her samovar and her
pet monkeys? The odd girl used to
say, laughing at herself: 81 am neither
of London, nor OF Paris, nor OF Vienna.
i.lI nv,