The Springfield herald., 1912-06-21

full-bearded face, and the cape Of
priest about his shoulders, stood swing
ing his lantern before me. and looking
down at the tomb of the Jewels by our
feet. know not why, but there was
something of such power and COM
mand writ upon the monks face that l
have never called him by any other
name than the Christ. With what feel
ings he inspired me cannot tell you.
Terror. human terror, is no word for
my experience.
THUS l stood facing the man when
he opened his lips to curse me. be-
lieve now, and shall always believe,
tnat he is nothing but madman,
whose brain has failed from long fast
ing. Be that as 1t may. his words ring
yet In my ears. II you search the
world through, read the curse upon
Barbarossa, and all the volumes of
anathema. you will never find suoh a
blasting accusation as the man spoke
when he saw the monstrance in my
hand. So dreadful was 1t that reeled
before him; and, losing all command,
struck him down with my stick and
fled the place. The next day I quilted
the valley Of San Bernardo and in a
week Pauline was wearing the topaz.
set by her father as bracelet. and
the diamonds sparkled upon her fin
gers. She covered me with kisses for
the gift, and in her embraces l forgot
the mailman Of the hills and my mel.
ancholy passed.
"The rest Of my story you know.
Pauline wore the topaz at the Mardi
Gras ball. and died ten minutes after
she had entered the room. A year la
ter. having fed from Italy. became
engaged por passer lie temps to Berthe
Duval at Marseilles. A man has many
love affairs. but only one passion. I
was not in love with her. but she was
rich, and troubled herself to get
smattering OF art-talk, which amused
me. One day she found the topaz in
my studio and begged 1t Of me. She
died as you have heard; and l. poor as
always. and now pursued by the
damning curse, came to Paris, selling
the topaz on my way here to NJ.
Georges Barre. have never ceased to
regret that which did; have lament
ed 1t the most since saw the ex-
And when. three days ago. I discovered
the madman who had cursed me at San
Bernardo in the very Rue Boissiere
where Mademoiselle Bernier lives.
determined to save her though the
deed cost me a confession and my lib
erty."
Come" said I. "presuming that
your picture Is not highly colored, 1t is
quite time we were at the opera; 1t is
striking half-past twelve now. You
know what women are. Mademoiselle
Bernier may wear the bracelet In the
face of everything have said: and
am inclined to think with you that 1t
is not wise for her to do so.''
God forbid that she should" said
he; and with that we went out TO-
gether.
1t was with the greatest difficulty
that reached Tussal's box, and there
from looking down upon the wild car
nival, seeing at the first but medley
Of form and color, a reckless horde of
dancers. grisettes, shepherdesses, over
whose heads confetti hurtled, or the
spirales which the youths loved
What with the dust and the
scream OF voices, and the chat
ter of the thousand tongues. and
the heroic efforts of the fiddlers, 1t was
almost impossible to locate anything
or anyone; but the Italian, reader
than l, pointed out to me at last the
one We sought; and l observed her
sitting in box quite close to us,
where she seemed to talk with all
girls esprit to the young sculptor at
her side. A fairer spectacle never was
than that of this childish creature,
quantity dressed in simple gown of
white and black, with necklace of
of roses in her hand; but the very
sight of her turned me sick with fear.
for she wore upon her arm the cursed
topaz. and you could see the light OF
it half over the house.
The italian and perceived the thing
at the one time.
For the love Of Heaven go to her!"
said he; tell the whole story to both
of them; she may not have ten min
utes to live"
He had need to say no more, for I
was III tne foyer as ne spoke; Dut
scarce had | opened the door of Barre's
box-which was upon the ground floor,
almost at the level of the dancers
when an appalling scream rose up
even above the clamor of the throng.
For one moment, as stood quaking
with my fears, and sore tempted to
draw back, l saw nothing but haze
of white smoke, a vision of lurid faces
and black forms, and sharper than
them all. the figure of Barre himself
bending over the body of the insensi-
BILE girl. Then, amidst the babbling of
voices, and the sobbing of women, and
the cry of the man, which was the
most bitter cry imaginable. heard the
words, stop the student In the black
cloak-he has shot mademoiselle!"
But the girl lay dead. with bullet
through her heart.
The tragedy at the opera house was
talk for many days in Paris; but the
assassin was never taken, nor indeed,
heard of. The police inclined to the
theory that some masquerader had dis.
charged pistol by accident in the
heat of the riot; and to this theory
most people inclined. But there was a
large sympathy for M. Georges Barre,
who lay near to death for many