The Celina Democrat. (Celina, O. [Ohio]) 1895-1921, 1912-04-26

abjured all made coop
\ 4 Grafton. at. -. .....
lures" she said. on
quitting the Abbey OF Clairvaux in the
lllustrous Valley. Men are clumsy,
noisy, big.mouthed. violent, impulsive'
without patience, without selfcontrol.
II you want trouble. take a man.
None will recognize her in Cairo,
Naples. Rome. Vienna. Botzen, st.
Moritz, Como, Lugano Madrid, Tan
giers. The severe elegant. intellectu-
al great lady, well on toward middle
age, will promenade her melancholy
hauteur to only sympathetic and ad-
miring glances.
American tourists. beware; death
stalks invisible beside her, mystery,
suspicion, loss Of jewels, travellers
checks. bank notes and letters of
credit
She can strike at a distance. After
she has left a fashionable resort, rich
tourists who admired her may wake
OF a morning, safe in their rooms, ard
find they are robbed, stripped, desti-
tute.
Let them be happy that they wake.
The gouine is out and loose again
upon the world. The jirmouichs are
Jailed and scattered; but the shadowy
flocheuse de coils. the glider In the
hallway" has her choir Of wicked vir-
gin nymphs to stay behind and do her
will, while she moves on, with the
new perfume In their hands.
BY day, they may be English ola
maids. French blue stockings. plain
dressed yet with an air Of ease' cold
aloof vet capable of impulsive kind
nesses when touched by friendship
for the rich and inexperienced. They
may be pathetic young widows nus
sian or Italian, seeking forgettuiness
round Casino gambling tables at con
certs. teas, subscription balls ana no,
tel dances, where the most moaes'
tourists flash their diamonds. II an
observer. YOU might be struck Dy
tbeir ewes. the eyes of nyctalops' Oh
great or little animals that see Dy
night. the eyes of mice, mice. mice!
The great old mother gouine loved
TO frequent the villa des Fleurs al
Nice or the public rooms at Monte
Carlo. where fortunes are won in an
evening. too late to be banked. She
moved from table TO table, noting the
great winners, smiling as the roulette
ball whirled.
Then the Countess Manola mods an
aristocratic good night, pulls her
sables about her. steps into the auto
limousine and speeds home to the rich
hotel. So the naughty English old
maids. severe French blue-stockings,
feyerish Italian widows, with their
eyes of nyctalops.
They lock their bedroom doors and
wait. The noises cease, the lights go
out. They doff their froufrou dinner
gowns, however sober, cracking pail
Iettes. tinkling Jet, rustling batiste
and silk. They dress again, you would
say for deep mourning; black stock
iDgs. black slippers, black gloves
black skirt and coat Of softest WOOL
and round their heads, covering their
faces, covering their mouths ana
noses, veil Of black mousseline de.
ecending below the neck and carefully
tied round the shoulders.
Is it the Countess Manola? Is II
the Honorable Helena? Certainly no;
1t is the gouine who turns out the
electric light of her bedroom. A feeble
light struggles through the transom
to the ceiling like phosphorescence
Gliding past the long mirror Of the
wardrobe, she glances at it and does
not see herself.
Satisfied. she turns up the light
Naught Jars in the costume. From
her trunk she takes what seems a
curling iron of dull bronzed steel,
only both pincers are convex; and
then another with the pincers longer,
similar; and a little instrument with
steel teeth, like comb that push
back on slight pressure and spring
out again, marvel of mobility and
changing forms; and then three slim
steel picks, as if for dentists, Each
slips into its compartment Of a vel
vet bag, not to tinkle or rattle Fin
ally, she takes a phial of liquid.
She turns out the light again and
stands before the mirror All is dark
and silent, Five minutes pass. Ten
minutes Is it Countess Manola? Is
It the soft, sorrowing Marchesa? No