Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-07-09
The Old Signor {
 By LAWRENCE HENRY
Copyright, 1908. by Daily Story Pub. co.>

Copyright 1908, by Daily Story Pub. Co.) sss&&, VOU never saw Francesca? Ah, she
 was a dream. She was the most beautiful girl had ever seen. In h Kiralfy ballet, too; deuced odd should find her there, don't you think? She was just coming out of sea shell, or something or other, when I discoy- cred her. Such insinua ting grace of movement charmed me; but saw at once she was a novice, for there was in every posture modest shrinking, while in her deep, black, lustrous eyes burned the story of innocent maiden hoods outraged sensibilities.
 But what dream of beautyl A form 1.-the, sinnous, dainty as a nympt's; voluptuous in it's tantaliZing curves as Moorish' sultaIa, 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. It was, however, in the depths of her magnifi- cent eyes that everything was summed up. Tmid at the moment, but with mirrored possibilities unlimited; hate and love, passion and tenderness, in tensity and languor-I saw all there, and I-weff, I went around behind the scenes.
 knew the stage manager, Duval- Looked him up, and in casual way, you know, sought some information concerning my maid of the sea shell.
 She was on the pay sheet as Fran cesca Pauli; 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 I was 1eav- ing him he cried after me: Look out, old man, I know you're dead game, but it's,dangerousl Those dagos don't play lawn tennis"
 After brief search Hound my sweet enchantress in recess between some stage trumpery, apparently trying to evade the atten ntions of an overgrown lout of fellow, who, with greasy leers, was trying to do the gallant. As I stepped up I chanced to hear his last remarks and I knocked him down.
 "Oh, signor! she murmured, you have my gratitude!" and her voi&e was like the chords of harp.
 "Ah, you speak Englishi" eager ly responded.
 "Oh, yes. Pietro and I, do, but poor papa. not so we'll. An, but aren't you afraid that big brute will come back?" She came close 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.
 An, those women from that far-off sunny land! They learn things in the nursery that some wemen 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 f1uttered with out lifting. Hesitating . moment, she suddenly, like a startled fawn, glided by me and disappeared in the wings As she passed a low-keyed, breathless sentence quivered to my ears:
 ssI 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.
 remember an occasion, after my sweet, pulsating little divinity and I had reached terms of excellent under standing, that the signor suddenly ap- peared before me as I was entering the theater. Tn tones vibrant with emo- tion he startled me with s'Ze wanta to maree my Francesca ?''
 For moment I was nonplussed and stared blankly at him, then all at once the humor of the thing struck meme want to n6arry-and from the corps de ballet! I could not repress smile.
 ''Looka out, signor!" he missed, "ze life at stake in zissa play Zis not ze heart of ze card, but ze woman's heart!"
 Darting at me venomous,lookf from eyes that seemed to turn green like a cats, he lost himself in the crowd. E We'll, to cut it short, one night the old signor and the faithful Pietro came to the theater for their Frances .>ca and she was gone. She was not theirs any more. Iheard afterward of the awful row they raised. Pietro was for everybody's blood, while the old man sobbed and tore his hair, and muttered vows of yengeance-but they returned home alone.
 thoughtfI had been loved before met Francesca. Bah! One don't know how deuced fiat claret is until he sips champagne! Love once blos-
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