Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1904-07-09

Ompdn they nau SHdTeu tHe SaHiV
pleasures and trials of youth; and, when
Prince Fortunate finally married, Albert
had officiated as best nan
81 am happy to see you" said Albert,
extending his hand in greeting. Life
would indeed be unbearable for a bach
elor like me If | we're not sure of always
being welcomed here. In fact, I'm afraid
my affection for you is the best trait
have"
The sculptor, unable to speak, gazed
at his friend in amazement, for Alberta
eyes were like thin glasses through which
his thoughts could be seen like pictures
in a book. Instead of feeling the sincere
affection which he protested, the hor-
rifed sculptor read his true thoughts,
which, put in words, were: "Compan"
ion Of my youth, | loathe you for all
the good deeds you have done. You are
a perfect type of manly beauty while |
am a monster of ugliness; you are ricn,
am poor; you are blessed with health,
| am a wreck; you love me, while hate
you-yes, | hate you for your kindness
and the humiliation ! have suffered. De-
spite my hatred. however, | am forced
to play the h~ypocrite. | must be espe-
cially amiable this day above all, be-
cause | intend to borrow a thousand
francs from you"
But the revelation did not end here.
Prince Fortunate, with the aid of the
! glasses Of truth, further learned that
from the time they had played marbles
together, Albert had envied and hated
him, He felt himself growing digit
was like a beautiful odifce ,rumblins
away, leaving his soul aghast.
go away, false friend" shrleked he
at last, you have permitted a spirit OF
mean Jealousy to destroy a noble friend
ship And without more ado, he thrust
his comrade out of the studio, and when
Albert looked back beseechingly h.
slammed the door in his face.
Later in the evening, when the dusky
shades of night were silently stealing
into the studio, Prince Fortunate, lost
in dreams, was joined by his beautiful
wife. She kissed him tenderly, sat by
his side, and, as usual, talked Of the
Numerous nothings that filled her days.
She had been to a bargain sale at the
Louvre, it had rained a little at about
three O'Clock; it was said that the new
drama at the Gymnase was very inter
esting. And then, in a careless manner,
she ventured: ooh, by the way, | met
the captain. He will dine with lis this
evening Pretending to be bored, she
added: Annoying, isn't it, dear?
cant abide the fop, mes so conceited."
A servant softly entered and lighted
the lamps. Prince Fortunate. who, in
the darkness of his studio, had almost
forgotten his magic glasses, raised his
head and met his wife's eyes, which
seemed, at that moment, to be contem-
plating a charming souvenir. This is
what was really disclosed to him: In
an elegantly furnished apartment in
one of the leading hotels of the city
he observed two lovers wrapped in
each others arms, Prince Fortunate
smothered a cry of pain. for in the
picture he recognized his wife and the
captain.
At first he was loath to believe the
awful revelation. These glasses lie"
he thought. This cannot be possible"
Then he looked fxedly at his wife,
whose glance fell under his gaze. Her
eyes shone with an unnatural bril-
liancy, she was i'll at ease, nervous.
and when she hastily left the room he
was convinced that the glasses had
told the truth, that her thoughts were
not with him, but with the captain,
whom he had believed to be an ad-
mirer Of his work instead of his
wife.
The sculptor was overwhelmed. Bow
ing his head, he exclaimed: ooh,
Truth, thou has taken from me all that
made my life complete and happy"
Mechanically he turned toward his
unfinished work, the Nymph and the
Satyr. Here lies my only consola-
ton" he murmured, gratefully. Moth
ing can rob me of the joy of being an
artist, of being able to create the beau,
tiful.'
But upon approaching his work he
was surprised to hear the statues con-
versing,
"Why am | so homely?" moaned the
Nymph, Il, who should be so beau
tiful and sylph-like. Look at my dis.
torted form and the imperfection O.
my lines"
yes, it Is sad to be chiseled by an
ignorant and unskilled artist" sym.
pathized the Satyr. Would that | had
been born in the great Robins studio,
instead of being brought to light by
this miserable amateur"
At last the sculptor's spirit was
broken. How great was my folly to
put these glasses on my eyes!' he
cried. 81 will shatter them in a thou.
sand pieces"
Vainly he tried to remove them; the,
were fast to his eyes. Then he realized
that forever and ever he was des'
tined to see life in its true aspect; tina
one may rid himself of Falsehood, bu
not of Truth, for she is pitiless ant
will ever cling.
After that day, so the story goes,
the sculptor no longer considered him
self Fortunes favorite. On the con.
trary, he was the most unhappy Of
mortals, with but a single ray OF hope
left him-the return of the strange
peddler with his varied assortment of
yellow, green, blue and pink glasses.
for any of which he was now willing to
exchange the gray and somber ones
that reflected only the painful truth
Adapted from the French Of Maurice
Maere, by Jeanette Brule, in San
Francisco Argonaut.
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