The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960, 1903-07-24
TheOld Signor
tCopyright. 1905. by Daily Story Pub. Coz

Copyright. Isos by Daily Story Pub Coz
VOU never saw Francesca2 Ah, she
was a dream. She was the most
beautiful girl I had ever seen. In q
Kiralfy ballet, too; deuced odd should
find her there, don't you think? She
was just coming out of a sea shell, or
something or other, when l discov-
cred her. Such insinuating grace OF
movement charmed me; but | saw at
once she was a novice, for there was
in every posture a modest shrinking,
while in her deep, black, lustrous eyes
burned the story of innocent maiden
hoods outraged sensibilities.
But what dream of beauty! A
form 1.-THE. sinuous, dainty as a
nymph's; voluptuous in its tantaiizing
curves as Moorish sultana, an ec-
stasy in every line. Her hair, black
as a ravens wing, reached almost to
her girdle. A poem of love was her
face, the skin warm olive, soft, sooth-
ing, inviting, while the red coral of her
arched lips made the white teeth with
in glisten like polished ivory. 1t was,
however, in the depths of her magnifi-
cent eyes that everything was summed
up. Timid at the moment, but with
mirrored possibilities unlimited; hate
and love, passion and tenderness, in
tensity and languor-I saw all there,
and well, 1 went around behind the
scenes.
1 knew the stage manager, Duval.
Looked him up, and in casual way,
you know, sought some informal tion
concerning my maid of the sea she'll.
She was on the pay sheet as Fran
cesca PAUL.; had made her first ap-
pearance only few nights before;
possessed a father, a swarthy, keen
eyed old chap of rather distinguished
appearance, whose lowering brow sug-
gested something unpleasant, also a
brother, Pietro. no less threatening,
possibly more formidable; that both
the father and Pietro always most
zealously escorted Francesca to and
from the theater.
I thanked Duval, but as / was leav-
ing him he cried after me: Look out,
old man, 1 know you're dead game,
but it's dangerous! Those dagos don't
play lawn tennis"
After brief search found my sweet
enchantress in recess between some
stage trumpery. apparently trying to
evade the attentions of an overgrown
lout of a fellow, who, with greasy leers,
was trying to do the gallant. AS 1
stepped up chanced to hear his last
remark, and I Knocked him down.
"Oh, signor!" she murmured. 'you
have my gratitude!" and her voice was
like the chords of harp.
"Ah, you speak English" 1 eager
~ responded.
ooh, yes. Pietro and I do. but poor
papa not so well. All, but aren't you
afraid that big brute will come back?"
She came close to me, forgot the flesh
ings, her bare neck and arms; as she
turned her troubled face up to mine
caught the incense of her breath. I
could hardly resist the impulse to
grasp her in my arms and press her to
my heart.
All, those women from that far-off
sunny land! They learn things in the
nursery that some women never
know.
'Oh, you must not spoil it all now,"
she gently cooed, as she shyly backed
away. Then she seemed to remember
the scantiness of her attire, for, glanc-
ing down at herself, reddish glow
mixed with the olive of her cheeks, the
long lashes of her eyes futtered with
out lifting. Hesitating a moment, she
suddenly, like a startled fawn. glided
by me and disappeared in the wings.
AS she passed low-keyed, breathless
sentence quivered to my ears:
81 am to be here every night"
After that I managed to see Fran.
cesca often, always at the theater,
however, and always with the certain
ty that at the last drop of the curtain
the old Italian and Pietro, the son,
were to appear. This was awkward,
of course.
I remember an occasion, after my
sweet, pulsating little divinity and
had reached terms of excellent under
standing, that the signor suddenly ap-
peared before me as was entering the
theater. In tones vibrant with emo
ton he startled me with ''Ze wanta to
maree my Francesca? p
For moment Was nonplussed and
stared blankly at him, then all at once
the humor of the thing struck meme
want to maryland from the corps de
balleti / could not repress smile.