Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1905-01-10
CHAPTER XIX

1t was q lovely summer night in +ba
year of grace 1870, and the pale sickle
of the moon shone from an unspecked
heaven upon a scene of pomp and gaudy
glory such as could not have been sur-
passed even in the gay capital of the
most frivolous nation vi on the earth.
The windows of the Tuileries were
ahlaze with a myriad of opalescent lights.
The rays of the moon flashed on the
arms and the armor of thousand cuiras-
siers drawn up in serried lines on either
side of the great entrance, where car
riage after carriage drove up, discharg-
ed its load of fair la-.es and gorgeous
gentlemen, and then drove away again
to make room for another and another,
and yet another, until there seemed to
be no end of the mass of bediamoned
women, and of men glittering in stars
and decora tions, who had come to pay
homage to the last and the littlest of the
French Caesars.
He, the great one, seemed weary of
the incense and the adulation. He had
strolled out into the garden, leaning
heavily upon a stick with one hand. while
through his free arm was drawn the
tiny, daintily gloved hand of a lady
whom all the women envied and hated
for the exceeding favor of which she
was the recipient, and at whom all the
men stared as if their heaven lay in her
eyes, and whom they vowed the most
beautiful and the most bewitching of all
the women there.
Not a very young woman, either but
tall and stately-in the later thirties,
though she showed none of the ravages
OF advancing time. She carried her head
as if she had been born to a throne.
The large limpid, dark blue eyes seemed
set into her head for the express purpose
OF thrilling the hearts of men,
THAT English woman again." a wom-
an whispered behind a fan of priceless
lace.
'That Miss Berinquay," said another.
''What right has she to come here to
usurp the place which ought to belong to
French woman? Can't she be salts
fed with her millions, and her conquests,
and stay in her cold and foggy Eng
land?"
That's just it." sneered the lady with
the gorgeous fan. AShe doesn't like to
stay in her foggy England, where the
men are as unattractive as the climate,
and the women worse than both"
you say that because you are jealous,
duchess" whispered tall and stately
old gentleman with his breast covered
with stars and orders. Miss Berinquay
is as charming as she is beautiful, and
she is lovely enough to captlyate even an
emperor"
Her grace drew up her shoulders with
a contemptuous shrug. In the meantime(
the object of all this envy and petty
hatred walked by the side of the lord of
many hosts. as if she had been used
during all her life to such companionship.
She knew that all eyes were upon her,
and she would not have been woman
had that fact not made her bosom thrill
with pleasure. OF her it could be truly
said that she had come, been seen, and
had conquered.
She flashed upon the horizon of soci-
ETY. like q Respondent meteor. The ro-
nance of her story: her years of obscur-
| ity, when she lived ignorant of her own
name and parentage; the millions she had
wrested from the rapacious Court OF
Chancery after a struggle of many years;
her own beauty--all these would have
made her a remarkable woman, even If
her force of character had not compelled
attention. Adams teaching lad not fall
en- upon barren soil. although the Lou
iSianian had never expected to glther SO
rich a harvest.
That evening. as they drove home from
the palace to Helene's mansion, Helene
sat looking Mt the sky, bordering over the
vicissieaGc~ of fate.
Adams sat next to her, also wrapped
/ in thought.
His own success was his punishment.
He had taught Helene to be armed at all
points against men. He had laid his
heart bare TO her. and left her bosom
as cold as chilled steel. Helene was
grateful to him. and he believed that
in her own naughty way she liked him.
He said to himself, what more could he
/ expect? Hnsv could he hope that wom-
an in she prime of her life and beauty
woy:a link herself to an old man who
/ Wis fast advancing toward the graves
/ This has been n great night fos yon.
my dear" he said. Are you happy
now?s
"Happvr' she replied. with deep
sigh. Il suppose ! ought TO be happy"
When Helene reached her boudoir she
found on her little table the usual even
iag's batch of letters. She was tired and
languid. and she expected no missive