The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1900-12-06
A DECOROUS DEATH
BY Emile ZOla.

NOUNT DE vERTEUIL is so years
u of age. Blue blood runs in the
counts veins. His family is one of the
most ancient in France. Yellow gold
lies in the counts Golfers. His for
tune is one of the largest in France.
Honors are heaped upon the counts
head. He is a member of the Acad-
emy, deputy, patron of the arts.
Countess Mathilde de Verteuil is 36.
Blond is Countess Mathilde-blond
and beautiful. Age does not wither
her. Her rounded shoulders, her sat
my skin, her golden hair, her starry
eyes-all these make the matronly
beauty of the countess the envy of
younger rivals.
The Verteuil household is a thor
mor's tongue never wags concerning
it. Their marriage had been one of
eminent good taste, said the world
both wealthy, both of good family.
And then they had lived as husband
and wife for nearly six years. And
their two children-Ferdinand, in the
army, and Blanche-had been so we'll
brought up. And they had married
Blanche very well. 1t is true they
no longer affect the sentimental hus-
band and wife. But what of that?
If each has a separate suite in the
Verteuil abode, do they not treat each
other with the utmost courtesy? They
are perfect models of department, and
nothing can be said against either.
One night madame the countess re-
turns from a ball at two o'clock. She
is fatigued. is Nine. Mathilde. AS her
maid disrobes her, she says:
"The count, madame. is somewhat
unwell this evening"
The countess yawns. "Ah," she
murmurs. Then, as she extends her
form beneath the luxurious coverlet:
"Wake me at ten tomorrow, Julie.
The modiste is coming"
At breakfast the next morning the
count does not appear. Madame is
concerned. She sends to inquire after
his health. The count is desolated;
he presents his excuses to madame,
but he cannot quit his chamber.
Madame is more concerned. She Will
herself see the count. She enters.
She finds him in bed, extremely pale,
but extremely trim. He is a perfect
ly respectable invalid. The room
shows no vulgar signs OF disorder
no walls scattered around, no furni-
ture misplaced. Three physicians are
whispering in a corner, and two we'll
trained domestics move noiselessly
about the room. This is no common
invalid-it is my lord the count of
Verteuil who lies abed. This is not
your low and plebeian "sickness"-it
is illness, trim and proper, and cere-
monious illness which is here.
"You are unwell, I see, my DEAR"
says the countess. 81 hope it is moth
ing dangerous?"
The count smiles feebly-a some
what strained smile.
"Not at ALL" he answers. with an
effort. "All 1 need is rest and quiet
am sorry to have put you to so much
trouble"
The days pass. The chamber re.
mains, as ever, well arranged. The
SNUG and shaven faces of the serv-
ants are expressionless. Nothing is
changed-nothing save the master.
And he Is much changed. For he lies
at deaths door, and he knows it,
Physicians shall not dole out weak
platitudes to Count de Verteuil. But
sometimes, as he lies staring grimly
at nothing, the counts face shows
weariness.
In the world of fashion the countess
tells her friends that her husband is
little indisposed." She could not
say that he was more, for Nine
Mathilde had not changed her life
Rides. drives, balls and parties make
up the round. But nevertheless
morning and evening the countess
dutifully visits her husbands cham.
ber.
'Better, hope, to-day, my dear?"
"a little better, think, my dear
Mathilde,"
"If you wish it, my dear. will stay
with YOU"
"Thanks, but it is unnecessary. II
would only fatigue you uselessly
Thanks, very much, nevertheless"
They understand each ot..cr per.
fectly. They have lived apart. The
count would die apart. He enjoys a
certain bitter egotism in thus quit.
ting life alone, without the comedy
of sorrow being played at his bed.
side. And he will die with dignity
will the count, as should a man OF
the world.
The sick man is growing weaker
his breath more labored He knows
he will not see the morning sun. Sc
| this evening, when the countess pays
| her habitual visit, he says, with a
| faint smile:
"It-would-be better-not-to &c
out this-evening, my-dear. lam
not-very-well."
The count is considerate even in his
weakness. He would spare her the
gossip of the world, were she seen
abroad the night he died. The
countess appreciates his courtesy. She
stays at home.
The physicians remain in the sick
mans chamber The countess send