Arizona weekly journal-miner., 1902-01-01

ilkt anu Tttllcu d ldNOT-
 ite passage with tragic emphasis, the
 grace of youth in her gestures and her
 voice firm and full of reserve power.
 ''No, no, you know, Robert Delisle-
 But forgive me. This night will be the
 last towering of my life. How grate-
 full I ami Your portrait is always
 there," she broke off, inconsequently,
 indicating with her finger a portrait
 with a glowing dedication.
 How I have changedl" exclaimed
 NJ. Delisle.
 But not to me-" sighed Mime. de
 Miramoy.
 Gan you come to the theater to- morrow at two?"
 "Yes, indeed. Oh, the thought of seeing all that have loved SO muchi"
 "Good-by, then, until tomorrow"
 "I am your servant, as always" said the little old woman, with low bow. as she accompanied the manager to the stair; and she stood there looking after him for long, long time. But her emotion made her forget that the house was still asleep and that it was not yet eight o'clock, for she slammed the door noisily after her, and. stretching herself on the sofa, began to hum love-song. Then she sighed. Thank God, there is still some good in life"
 They were exciting days that pre- ceded the great night. Under the in- fuence of her jealous emotion Mme. de Miramoy seemed to be no more than 30. She fioated as if in a dream, and, calling up all the warmth and youth there was in her heart, she was not idle minute. Visits, re- hearsals, nothing tired her. She had insisted that large and striking post CTS, bearing her name in flaming let ters, should be displayed in her street and in her room; there she recited her lines over and over again before the mirror, until she obtained the de- sired effect, studying her poses and expressions. scolding. even striking herself, or approving, smiling smiably I at herself with eyes and lips.
 The longed-for evening arrived. The little old woman seemed like one awakening from a long sleep as she entered her brightly lighted dressing room, with its mirrors all about the walls Mime. de Miramoy ran from | one armchair to another, trying them all.
 Suddenly she stopped still n the center of the room
 "Why, have forgotten to eat my | dinnerI But then I have my flask of | port"
 Then, hearing the thousand noises | of the theater, she went out, thread | ed her way through the throng of costumed personages who stood | about in groups or wandered alone. ] mumbling their parts; passed open doorways where men and women chatted as they dressed; avoided the machinists, who were manipulating tangled mass of pulleys and scenery in a bewildering confusion of orders, calls, cries. laughter and muffied clat- ter; and, more and more intoxicated, found her way to the front of the immense stage and looked through the peep-hole at the audience.
 Under the lights moved a sea of blonde boards and bald pates, shining shirt-fronts and barred shoulders 4n- willingly yelled behind a waving cloud sf soft feathers. Scarcely fla miliar face among them, and how the merect vestiges of the old days.
 Mime. de Miramoy, feeling sudden chill at her heart, hurried back to her dressing-room. Passively she let herself be dressed and made ready for her part.
 "Why is it all so changed, and so quickly?" she wondered.
 But at last she stood arrayed in all the glory of her peplum, looking as young as in her palmiest days. When she stood before the glass, she could + scarcely believe her eyes. She stepped back and then went close up to the mirror, which seemed to have ac- quired magical properties; she smiled. she showed her teeth, she examined herself closely. Heavensl Was it pos sible? was she dreaming? No. She shivers like a wet little bird in a ray of sunshine. Her heart is beat ing wildly. She asks to be left alone for a moment, ard once alone, she casts swift glaurc .rOund, hurries to her poor, everyday gown, searches hurriedly in the pockets, takes out little flask, turns to a corner, and stoops down the better to conceal her self-and drinks. It is the port, which she has not forgotten, and which will give her strength. She stands up and waits. She tries her great scene:
 Rome. who has seen your birth"
 Alasl her voice is no longer sure. Mme de Miramoy shivers and sinks nto chair to think.
 Mime de Miramoy," they call, presently. "it is your turn to go on."
 But she does not move. There is |. knock She decides, rises, opens he door.
 "Oh. M Deliele, what a nightl" she nurmurs little huskily, and, talk ( ng his arm, she allows herself to be ed forth. Those who watch her as he passS think from her manner hat she is frightened and dares not | .onfess it. Her knees even seem to ,e weak under her as she walks. They III encourage her, and she is forced ,ently on the stage. As she appears, I he entire house bursts into a great alvo of applause. Mime. de Miramoy dvances, with one hand on her heart. she stops and casts an un- ertain glance about. Then, smiling . weakly, she starts slowly to advarce gain, makes a false step. and fum- ,les prone and helpless on the stage. a Translated for the San Francisco Argonaut from the French of Beppo e Casimi, by l.. $. Vassault.
 Australia's commerce is e30 per n Ina bitant a year. that of India ten