The Green Forest tribune., 1909-09-17
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OUR LADY OF BRUSSE.
BY PRINCE VLADIMIR VANlATSKY
Copyright, by J. B. Lippincott Co.)

well. My husband, as the world knows, contributed greatly to it. Were he not so modest, l could show you his orders and decorations. There is but one government in the civilized world which has not given him it's highest recognition. Even China has honored him."
 The sweet, even-toned voice ceased, and across the quiet, well-ordered room, with it's old-fashioned furniture, one could see the figure of her hus- band as he sat in great chair, his eyes fixed on a far-off skyline. The room was filled with an air of con tent, of rest passing human knowl- edge. It seemed, almost, that Mir yana had materialized.
 Pierre Antoine Brusse, born Baron de Brusse, but for 50 years a disciple or ultra-republicanism, doctor of dozen universities, decorated, courted by hundred lands, was massive, leonlne, with a great brush of silver halr. His clothes - of year before lasts cut-hung loosely on his her culean frame.
 Mime. Brusse, small, dainty, dressed in her habitual silver-gray, sat knit tlng, as Joan had sat by her Darby. The world seemed a thousand miles away, and the quiet valley of the Meuse wandering away through we'll Kept farm-lands, seemed the Valley of Peace.
 And so one went from them, his heart bTimming with the thoughts that such couple would inspire. The world still held goodness and honor in It, though the mocking laughter of the boulevards, the gay, soulless men and women of the clubs, of Auteuil, of Ostend, turned one to the thought that all was vanity.
 AS the softer shades of night fell and the outside world became a dull monotone of gray and sepia browns, touched here and there with a splash of crimson from the dead sunset, the scientist arose.
 Valerie" what name for a wom- an gowned in silver-gray.- ap- breaches the hour for our dinner" The two old people, courtliness per sonified, went to their rooms to dress Dinner was served in the little dining room of the old house-half chateau, half farm house.
 T must go tomorrow, as you know, my dear, to a convention at Vienna l shall probably be gone three or four weeks. And you, as you have already said, are going to Etretat Therefore, let us drink once to the happy day when we will meet again" Brusse's eyes were tender as he phrased the little toast that they drank in aged chartreuse. And his wife smiled back tender smile as she lifted her | glass to her unwithered lips
 ITO the happy day when we meet again, my love-" she answered. A group of tourists standing on the pavement of the Hotel de Ritz saw the arrival of smart English victoria From it descended woman-great lady from the waving plumes of her beautiful hat, resting coquettishly on masses of soft white hair, to the tiny, | graceful feet, clad in the smartest and most correct English boots.
 How charming!" said one.
 "A royalty!" exclaimed another, and | turned to inquire of passer if he i knew the name of the beautiful wom- an. But he did not, and the tourists went on, wondering as to the identity of the vision.
 "She was as beautiful and as gra- | cious, as dainty and as wonderful, as | the fairy godmothers of our child hoods tale," said one girl, with a whimsical smile.
 The season was quite gay at Ostend that year A royalty or two made their way through the crowded Casino. Brilliant men and women, clad in the most wonderful clothes. crowded around the petits chevaux, gayly Wa gering their louis.
 And nowhere was there one more courted than the beautiful lady of the Ritz A baronial coronet glittered on her harness; the buttons of her serv- ants liveries bore the proud crest of family ennobled in the early days of the house of Valois. Around her | were the most noted men and women of the world. Her dinners claimed, as guests, the proudest names of the old world. An archduke was proud to | pay her open court And over all she reigned with wit, with a grace, with a vivacity that the world had | thought lost art. A tap of la Baronnes tiny fan, and half the great men of that world gathered around her. A wave of her hand, and they bowed themselves away.
 La Reine d'Ostend," they called her whom the peasantry of the valley of the Mouse knew as Our Lady of Brusse." Gone was the placidness: departed the even life; forgotten the silver-gray of her gowns.
 The ruling monarch of a great coun. try had deigned to grace Dieppe with his presence for week. That gay resort was in fiutter. The royal yacht lay gracefully at anchor in the outing, and the monarch, renowned for his savoir and grace, passed here and there among the people of Dieppe. As he turned one day, lie encountered a massive figure clad in the most fashionable of fannels, with rakish yachting cap, flowing scarf of shim- mering silk. A smart mustache and an imperial, trimmed with the most exquisite precision, showed white against a skin as pink as that of a baby.
 "Ah, Mons. Brusse!" said the mon. arch-for they two had met at Schwal. bach, years prior.
 No longer Mons. Brusse, your ma. jesty," replied the savant, but now