The star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1908-1909, 1908-09-12
by MARIE CORELLI=


no: her gray-green eyes met mine III thdt
slow. wistful smile that was so IN
dsscribably sad. Confused as my
thoughts were, l observed her pallor,
and the ethereal delicacy of her face
and form-she had no hat on, n her
neck and shoulders were
Struck by this popularity, l won
dered If the other people who were
passing through the hall noticed her
deshabille. I looked around me in
quiringly-not one passerby turned .
glance In our direction! Yet surely
the lady's costume was strange enough
to attract attention? A chill of horror
Quiyered through me. Was l the only
one who saw her sitting there?
This idea vas SC alarming that ]
uttered an Involuntary exclamation;
the next moment the seat before me
was empty, the strange lady had gone
and nothing remained of her but-the
strong sweet odor of the carnations
she had carried! With a sort of sick
ness at my heart, I hurried out of the
Louvre, and was glad when l found
myself in the bright Paris streets filled
with eager, pressing people, all bent on
their different pyramids OF business or
pleasure. 1 entered a carriage and was
driven rapidly TO the Grand Hotel
where 1 was laying with a party OF
friends. ] RETAINED from speaking OF
the curious sensations that had over
come mel did not even mention the
picture that had exercised so weird an
influence upon me. 1he brilliancy oil
the life we led, the constant change
and activity of Jul movements, soon
dispersed the emotion ! had
undergone; and though sometimes the
remembrance OF 1t returned to me.
avoided dwelling. on the subject. Ter
or twelve days passed. and one night
we all went to the Theatre Francois
1t was the first evening Of my life thai
I ever was in tho strange position OF
being witness to a play without either
knowing Its name or understanding Its
meaning. I could only realize one
thing-namely. that the Lady with
the Carnations sat in the box OPP
posite me. regarding me fixedly. Shs
was alone; her costume was un-
changed. I addressed one Of cur part,
in a low voice:
"Do you see that girl opposite, II
white, with the shaded crimson carna'
tons in her dress?"
My friend looked, shook hsr head
Int rejoined:
mo; where IL the sfttinss"
fright opposite," I repeated in a
more excited tone. Surely you can
see her! She Is alone in that large
box en- face"
My friend turned to mo In wonder.
you must be dreaming. my dearl
That large box Is perfectly empty"
Empty knew better! But 7 en-
deavored to smile, I said I had made
a mistake-that the lady I spoke OF
had moved-and 50 changed the sub
tect. But throughout the evening,
though I feigned to watch the
stage. my eyes were continually
turning to the place where SHE
sat so quietly. with her stead
fast, mournful gaze fixed upon me. One
addition to her costume she had fan
which from tho distance at which I
beheld it seemed to be made OF very
old yellow lace. mounted on sticks OF
fligree silver. She used this occasion
ally. waving II slowly to and fro In q
beli VI uEcafiyt HlcullaLlV6 IdSI11Ou ,
and ever and again she smiled THAI
panied, patient smile which, though
It limited much betrayed nothing. When
We rose to leave the theatre "the Lady
with the Carnations rose also, and
drawing a a wrap about her head,
she disappeared. Afterwards I saw her
gliding through one OF the outer lob
bies: she looked so slight and frail and
child like, alone in the pushing, bril-
liant crowd. that my heart went out
to her in a sort of fantastic tenderness.
Whether she be a d~isembodied spirit
I unused. "or an illusion called up by
some disorder of my WI Imagination,
/ do not know; but she seems so sad,
that even were she a Dream, I pity
herr"
This thought passed through my
brain as In company with my friends
1 reached the outer door. A touch on
my arm startled me-a little white
hand clasping q cluster of carnations
rested there for a second--then van
ished. l was somewhat overcome by
his new experiences: but my sensa-
tons this time were not those of fear
1 became certain hat this haunting
image followed me for some reason;
and I determined not to give way to
any foolish terror concerning II, but
to calmly await the course of events.
hat would in time, l felt convinced,
explain everything.
| stayed q fortnight longer in Paris
without seeing anything more of 'the
Lady with the Carnations" except
photographs Of her picture in the
Louvre, m of which I bought-though
masterpiece-and then 1 left for Brit
tany. Some English friends OF mine,
Mr.. and Mrs. Fairleigh, had taken up
their abode in q quaint old rambling
chateau neal Quimperle on the coast
of Finisterre. and they had pressed me
cordially to stay with them for a fort
night-an invitation which / gladly ac-
cepted. The house was built on a lofty
rock overlooking the sea: the surround
ing coast was e%minently wild and pic
turesque; and on the day I arrived,
there was a boisterous wind which
lifted high the crests of the pillows and
dashed them against the iutting crags
with grand and terrific uproar. Mrs.
Fairleigh. a bright. practical woman,
whose life was entirely absorbed In
household management. welcomed me
with effusion. She and her two hand
some boys. Rupert and Frank. were
full of enthusiasm for the glorles and
advantages of their holiday resort.
"Such a beach," cried Rupert, exc
cutting a sort of Indian ~war-dance be-