Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1912-07-16

upon the present Mademoiselle looks
around her. She finds you dull. She
will seek for another admirer All,
mademoiselle," he added, leaning across
the table, eff the sweetest girl in Paris
were not here already by my side, do
you think that 1 would permit you to
be for an instant the companion of a
dumb admirerP
Mademoiselle laughed back into his
eyes.
"If monsieurs friend were but as
gallant as monsieur himself"
He is depressed" Falkenberg de-
ciared, but it passes. Behold. Another
glass like that Estermen. Drink till
you feel it bubbling in your veins.
Look at him now"
Falkenberg leaned back in his place
and pressed his companions arm. In
deed, the wine was working it's magic.
The terror was passing from Ester
mans face. Already he was becoming
more natural.
Leave them alone" Falkenberg said
softly. HE will have no relapse The
wine is in his blood All, Marguerite!
never did you seem so sweet to me as
tonight, when my face is set for the
cold north. Have you joy in remem-
bering, little one? Have you sentiment
enough for that?"
IT have sentiment enough" she whis-
pered, ito suffer every time you leave
me- Tonight I am afraid to let you
go. Oh, dearl-my dear-take me with
you'll I have begged you before, but
tonight I beg you in different man
ner. am afraid to be left alone.
care not where or whatever the end of
your journey may be. Take me with
you, dear one. 1t is because 1 love that
I ask this"
He looked at her for a moment, and
there were wonderful things in his
eye.
"Ah! little girl" he murmured. you
teach one so muchl One passes through
life too often with ones eyes closed,
one finds the great things in strange
places, the rarest flowers even by the
roadside. Drink your wine, press my
hngers-like that. See, it is the chef
d'orchestre who approaches. You shall
sing-sing to me, little one"
He motioned to the musician, who,
with a smile of delight, held up his
hand to the orchestra. Mademoiselle
hummed a few bars. The man who
listened nodded his head Then he
raised his violin, he passed his bow
across the strings. With the touch of
his fingers he drew from them a little
melody. Mademoiselle assented. Her
head was back against the wall, her
eyes half closed. Then she began to
sing; sang so that in a few moments
the passionate words which streamed
from her lips held the room breathless
It was no ordinary music. 1t was the
love prayer of a woman, starting in
sadness, passing on to passion, ending
in wild entreaty. AS she finished she
| turned her head toward her companion
''You shall not go alonew she cried
/ and her words might well have been
| the text of her song.
| Falkenberg shook his head.
Something gayer," he begged; some
thing more like the wine which foams
in our glasses"
She obeyed him after a moments
hesitation, yet in the first few bars her
song came to an abrupt end, her voice
choked. She leaned suddenly forward
in her place, her face was hidden be-
tween her hands. They all gazed al
her curiously.
Nerves. one declared.
'Hysterics!" another echoed.
1T is the. life they lead, these WON
( en-" an American explained to a little
party Of guests. 'They weep or they
/ laugh always. Life with them quivers
all the time. They pass from one emo
ton to another-they seldom know
which. Look, it is over with her"
1t was over. indeed. She raised her
head and sang, sang ravishingly
| charmingly, a gay love-song. Falk-
enberg was the first to applaud her.
Tonight dear" he murmured, you
are wonderful You sing from the
heart, your voice has feeling, you bring
to one the exquisite moments. Behold
the supper arrivesl FISHERMAN has
made friends now with his little dan
seuse. Sit closer to me. dear. These
are the golden hours. Give me your
hand, look into my eyes, drink with
me. How the minutes pass! There is
magic in this place"
| Towards 4 o'clock Falkerberg and
his companions came down the narrow
stairs. out into the morning. A fine
rain was falling, the pavements were
already wet. Falkerberg was still gay
still laughing and talking Behind, a
/ little company-the chef d'orchestre
the chief maitre d'hotel, the flower
/ girl-wondering at his generosity
stood at the head Of the stairs to bio
him godspeed. He gave louis to the
commissionaire and called for a spe-
cial carriage. He had almost to lift
Marguerite inside
Dear child" sc said, holding her
hands, here we must part for time
not for so long, perhaps. Who can tellI
| It is a comfortable carriage, this. Here
| is a handful OF money for the fare. II
is of no use to me"
He emptied his pockets into her lar
as she sat there. She made no effort
to pick up the shower of gold and sill
yer.
what do you mean-that it is of nc
/ use to your
1--WE drive for home" ne answered
1--WE shall need no money to take us
| there Listen"
He drew her face very close to his
when you arrive at your apartment .
| he said. you will find there a little
/ packet from me. Be wise, dear. II
chance will have 1t that we do not meet
again very soon, may 1t help you to take
all out of life that you can find. Only
| sometimes, when the heart is joyous
when the wine flows and your feet are
/ keeping time to the music of life, think
/ for a moment-of one who dwells, alas
| in a quieter country. Dear Marguerite"
/ He kissed her, first upon the lips and
/ then lightly on the forehead. Then
/ gently, he thrust away the arms which
/ She had wound around his neck He
waved to the coachmAn to drive off. Will
a little shrug of the shoulders, he tool
| his own place in the great touring car
Estermen, too, clambered into the ton
neau.
''You have supped WELL 1 trust, Henri
he asked the chauffeur.
without a doubt, excellency," the mar
i