The Breckenridge news. (Cloverport, Ky.) 1876-1955, 1904-03-16
Copyright 1902. by THE BOwEN.MERRILL COMPANY

IDENTITY the cIg eagerly sought novelty.
and Barnes company, Offering new di-
version after many weeks Of opera,
drew a fair proportion of pleasure seek
ers to the portals of the drama. The
noise of rafting wheels and the bang
ing of carriage doors, the aspect of
many fair ladies, irreproachably gown
ed; the confusion of voices from vend-
ers lowering near the gallery entrance,
impaired a cosmopolitan atmosphere to
the surroundings.
You'd think some we'll known player
was going to appear. Francois!" grum-
bled the marquis as he thrust his head
out of his carriage. Looks like the
| alter off the Strand. And there's an or
ange girl, a dusky Peggyr
The vehicle of the nobleman drew up
before the brilliantly lighted entrance.
Mincingly the marquis dismounted, as
/ sisted by the valet. Within he was
met by a loge director who with the
airs of a Chesterfield bowed the people
in and out.
"Your ticket, SIR" said this courteous
I AlulN iuudlt STRIPPING unusually lOM.
The marquis waved his hand toward
his man, and Francois produced the
bits of pasteboard Escorted to his
box, the nobleman settled himself in an
easy chair, after which he stared i'm
pudently and inquisitively around him.
Having taken note of his surround
ings TO his satisfaction, the marquis at
length condescended to turn his eye
glass deliberately and quizzically to
tie stage. His sight was not the best,
and he gazed for some time before dis
corning a graceful figure and a pure,
oval face with dark hair and eyes.
"Humph! Not a bad stage presence"
he thought. Probably plenty of beau
ty, with a paucity Of talent! That's
the way nowadays The voice-why,
where have heard It before? A beau
tiful voice! What melody, what pow
er, what richness! And the face
Here he wiped the moisture from his
glasses. IF the face is equal to the
voice she has an unusual combination
in an artist"
Again he elevated the glass. Sud-
denly his attenuated frame straight
ened his hand shook violently, and the
glasses fell from his nerveless fingers.
'Impossibler' he murmured. But the
melody of those tones continued to fall
upon his ears like a voice from the past.
When the curtain went down on the
first act there was a storm OF applause,
and Constance as Adrienne Lecou-
vreur, radiant In youth and the knowl-
edge Of success, was called out several
times. In the loges all the lattices
were pushed up, "a compliment to any
player" said Straws. To the marquis
the ladies in the loges were only remi-
niscent of the fashionable danes with
bare shoulders and glittering jewels in
the side boxes Of old Drury Lane lean
ing from their high tribunals to ap-
plaud the Adrienne Of twenty years
ago.
He did not sit in a theater in New
Orleans now, but in London town, with
a woman by his side who bent beneath
the storm of words she knew were di-
rected at her.
but the hooking echo of the past? The
curtain had descended, but went up
again. and the actress stood with flow
ers showered around her. Save that
she was in the sprlngtime of life, while
the other had entered summers season:
that her art was tender and romantic
rather than overwhelming and tragic,
she was the counterpart Of the actress
he had deserted in London. a faithful
prototype. bearing the mothers eyes.
brow and features; a moving. living
picture Of the dead, as though the
grave had rolled back its stone and she
had stepped forth, young once more,
trusting and innocent.
Could it be possible 1t was but a
likeness his Imagination had converted
into such vivid resemblance?
Overwrought and excitable, he did
not dare remain for the latter portion
of the drama. Better leave before the
last act, he told himself, and, dazed by
the temperance Of that vision. the
old man fairly staggered from the box.
The curtain fell for the last time, and
Barnes, with exultation, stood watch
ing in the wings. She had triumphed,
his little girl; she had won the great,
generous heart of New Orleans. He
clapped his hands furiously, joining in
the evidences of approval, and. when
the ovation finally ceased and she 9p-
preached, the old manager was so over
come he had not a word to say. She
looked at him questioningly, and he
who had always been her instructor
folded her fondly to his breast
Il owe it all TO you" she whispered.
"Pooh!' he answered. You stole fire
from heaven. am but a theatrical,
bombastic, transforming Thespian."
would you spoil meT' she interrupt
ed tenderly.
you are your mother over again, my
dear! If she were only here now! But
where is Saint-Prosper? He has not
yet congratulated you? He, our good
genius, whose generosity has made all
this possiblew And Barnes half turned,
when she placed a OBTAINING hand on
his arm