The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960, 1904-01-29

| more favorable opportunity.
but then,' she said, the chain VIII
be sold
Il held out strongly. She looked
GROSSLY at me.
THAT evening, she whispered In my
ear: 1t was only a craving; the desire
| is already gone!' She intimated to me
! the cause of her erratic impulse, and the
thought of her being satisfied without it
| filled me with a great joy. My first i'm
| pulse was to rush to the jewelers. and
bring her the coveted chain. Then ]
reflected that the money would be need
ed in the house; and, moreover, she had
confessed that she was no longer anxious
for the chain.
The same night Jeanne became sud-
denly Ill. l hastily summoned physi-
clan. In the delirium of her agony,
Jeanne often repeated these words:
The chain, the chain!
Il bitterly reproached myself for not
| having yielded to her last desire.
The next day l placed in her hands
the gold chain, and then passed it around
her neck. Her fingers touched IT, she
clasped it to her, it seemed to me she
smiled
"'You will recover murmured to
| her But she could no longer hear me
! she had just expired, the pendant flash
ing on her bosom.
ut is useless for me to tell you Of my
despair. | wanted Jeanne Inferred with
| the chain, the last ornament | was able
to give her. Her body, which was placed
in a silk-lined coffin, was deposited pro-
visionally in a local cemetery until II
could be transported to its definite rest
ing place in my native city of Bordeaux,
where | had purchased a vault and
monument to perpetuate my beloved
ones memory.
/ Months passed by. spent my days
in Jeannes room, surrounded by her
souvenirs, conversing with her shadow
Sometimes I would open the jewel
casket. Like so many loving glances,
the precious stones seemed to regard me
from their varying angles. One day 1t
| happened that a hidden spring gave way
under the involuntary pressure OF my
finger In little secret drawer bum
die of papers was hidden away. | drew
them out to the light Of day-a strange
collection of letters and telegrams The
writing was in many different hands;
there were no signatures, not even an In
itial. But the text was uniform. There
were declarations of love, notes to ar
range secret meetings. and offers or
money or presents. And then | realized
that Jeanne, the candid, the innocent
Jeanne, had betrayed me odiOusly, in
the most repugnant fashion.
Il remember that l cried all night. l
trembled with fury and hate. l wanted
to kill, but whom? l damned destiny
and my own helplessness. Then burned
all those anonymous papers. sold the
jewels, left the apartment where l lad
lived with Jeanne, and allowed my afro
cious grief to wear Off in blunt silence, in
forgetfulness. Yes, / believed | could
forget.
But, some months later, | was ad-
vised by the authorities that the tempo
rary concession permitting my wife's
body to rest in the local cemetery had
ceased My directions for the transfer Of
the body of Jeanne, | was told, were
awaited l was to be present at the re-
moval of the body SO that | might iden-
tify it.
when the coffin was opened, | avert
ed my eyes. Lies and decay | said to
myself Jeanne was but a lie, and now
| do not wish to see what has become Of
her flesh But in spite of me, my eyes
filed with tears, and involuntarily some
feeling Of sweet dizziness attracted me
toward the open grave.
ga sudden cry frightened me. 'Hor-
rfble! Horrible!' remarked one Of the
assistants.
I'm my turn leaned over the coffin.
And then l saw. Oh! TIE
abominable vision. | looked
fxedly, as If discerned nothing. An in
slant later fell upon my knees, sobbing:
The strumpet, she meted out her own
justice!'
"Then lost consciousness. When
awoke found myself in hospital ward.
what had l seen? Why, the golden
chain was entwined in the clenched
hands of Jeanne; her extended arms had
tightened with all their force; the PEN
dant was incrusted in the vertebra OF
the neck Jeanne had been buried alive.
She had strangled herself with the
coveted chain, my supreme gift.
"Are you convinced now?" asked Rog-
er Valtet, as he noted the effect of his
story on his various listeners. did
not destiny avenge me well? Too well,
sometimes think would have been less
cruel, for | have long since pardoned
hox hor od 7