The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-01-16

W@
 @THAT IS A REMARKABLY FINE YOUNG
 WOMAN"
 few months on bacon and liver and then turn our attention to trIIf1es and old wines and CabanaS at two francs fifty. We are collectively good sort of vagabond- I have a little besides my work; not much, but enough to loaf on when no newspaper or magazine cares to pay my expenses in Europe. Anyhow, prefer this work to staying home to be hampered by intellectual boundaries. My vest will never reach the true proportions which would make me successful in politics"
 ''You are luckier than I ann" Brett mann replied. He slipped his wine slowly and with relish. How long was it since he had tasted good chamber tin?
 Perhaps Fitzgerald had noticed 1t when Breitmann came in. The 1atter's velvet collar was worn, there was a suspicious gloss at the elbows, the cuff buttons were of cheap metal, his fin- gers were without rings. But the American readily understood There are lean years and fat years in jour nalism, and he himself had known them. For the present this man was little down on his luck: that was all.
 party came in and took the near table. There were four, two elderly men. an elderly woman and a girl Fitzgerald, as he side glanced. was af- forded shfver of pleasure. He recog- nized the girl. It was she who had given the flowers to the veteran.
 That is a remarkably fine young woman" said Breitmann, echofng Fitzgerald's thought.
 The waiter opened the champagne.
 "Yes. I saw her give some violets this afternoon to an old soldier in the tomb. It was pretty scene"
 Their glances, drawn by some occult force. half circled till they paused on the face of the girl, who, perhaps com peIled by the same invisible power, had leveled her eyes in their direction. With well bred calm her interest re- turned to her companions, and the in- cident was to all outward sign closed Whatever took place behind that beau tiful but indifferent mask no one else ever learned, but simultaneously in the minds of these two adventurers-and surely to call a man an adventurer does not necessarily imply that he is a chevalier d'industrie-a thought, tinged with regret and loneliness, was born to have and to hold maid like that
 Sometimes, knowing that I shall never be rich, I have desired a title," remarked Fitzgerald humorously.
 "'And what would you do with itF' curiously.
 "Oh. I'd use it against porters and walters and officials. There's nothing like it. l have observed a good deal. It has a magic sound. like Orpbeus' Tyre. The stiffest back becomes supdne at the first twinkle of it."
 ''I should like to travel with you, MT. Fitzgerald" said Breitmann mus ingly. You would be good company. Some day, perhaps, I'll try your pre- scription, but I'm only a poor devil of homeless, landless baron-"
 Fitzgerald sat up. "You surprise me"
 ''Yes. However,. neither my father nor my grandfather used 1t, and as the pitifuI few acres which went with 1t is a sterile Bavarian hillside I have never used it either. Besides, neither the peerage nor the Almanach de Gotha make mention of it, but still the patent of nobility was legal, and could use it despite the negligence of those two authorities"
 'YOu coAld use it in America. There are not many 'Burkes' there"
 cit nrnuses me to think that should conf1de this secret to you. The wine is good. and perhaps-perhaps was hungry. Accept what I have told you as a jest"
 They both became untalkative as the | coffee came. Finally Breitmann laid 1 down the end of his cigarette.
 "I hare to thank you very much | for pleasant evening, MT. Fitzgerald
 "Glad l ran into you. It has done | me no end of good. I leave for the | east tomorrow. Is there any possi- | bility of seeing you in the Balkans | this fall?"
 'No. I am going to try my luck in America again"
 "My club address you will find on | my card. You must go? It's only the shank of the evening"
 'I have a little work to do. Some day I hope I may be able to set as good dinner before you.''
 Better have cigar"
 ''No. thank you"
 And Fitzgerald liked him none the | less for his frmness. So he went | as far as the entrance with him.
 Don't bother about calling a cab,' said Breitmann. "It has stopped rain | ing and the walk will tone me up. | Good night and good luck"
 And they parted, neither ever expect | ing to see the other again and equally | careless whether they did or not.
 Breitmann walked rapidly toward | the river, crossed, and at length en- | tered a gloomy old pension over | restaurant frequented by bargemen, i students and human driftwooli. AS | he climbed the badly lighted stairs, Q l little. gray haired man, wearing | spectacles, passed him, coming down. | A ''pardon'' was mNmbled, and the | little man proceeded into the restau- | rant. picked a Figaro from the table | filtered with newspapers, ensconced l himself in a comfortable chair, and | h i'm