Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-10-19

as one remembers in after days, and brave
night for Philidor, whose heart was sing
ing.
setting down her glass when the healths
were drunk. al too, Mademoiselle, was once
young
Yvonne patted her cheek gently. "Age is
only in the heart, Madame, she said.
mon, ma BELLE cackled Guegou from
his corner. "It's in the joints.
4Tais tot, Jules, scolded his wife. what
should lovers care about thy joints?'
@My joints are my joints, he creaked
"Ninety!' cried Yvonne. Monsieur car
ries his years lightly. l should not have
said that he had over sixty
"Say no more, Mademoiselle,' put in
Mere Guegou. "You will render him con-
ceited'
Indeed, it seemed that the old man had
already forgotten his joints; for he poured
out another glass of wine and was pledging
Yvonne with toothless gaiety.
"Vos beanx yenx, Madernoiselle, e. he
creaked calamity, "and to your good fortune,
Monsieur Philidor!'
"To your roses, Monsieur Guegou!' re-
piled Philidor. "In the whole of the Enye
ct Disc there are not such roses. To your
O1IleleI, N1dudIllc! III Illc SOulICly IuClC ID
not such another!'
With these compliments and in others like
them the minutes passed quickly. WON
mes eyes avoided Philidor's; though he fire.
quently sought them. Nor was he dismayed
when in response to Madame Guegou's in
terested query as to when they would marry
Yvonne shrugged her shoulders indifferently
and sighed.
ooh, | do not know, Madame. Often
think never. One marries, and that is the
end of romance. One lover-pouf! When
one may have many!'
She tossed her chin in the direction of
Philidor, who looked at her over his chicken
bone.
"If one has but one lover she went on,
che must have all the virtues of the many
and none of the faults He must sing when
we are gay, weep when we are sad, and make
love to us while doing either. Entfn, he
must be what no man ISL And she pointed
the finger of scorn at Philidor. Gle eats just
as you or |!
Madame Guegou laughed. "What you
require is no man at all, Mademoiselle
Yvonne, but saint.
Perhaps she finished, yawning; "but
I'm in no hurry.
When the dinner was finished Yvonne
helped Mere Guegou with the dishes, and
when this was done went Stra1ghCWaV 10 ner
room, with no other word for Fhilidor than
a Bon soir, and nod of the head.
DHILIDOR sat for long while in the
arbor smoking a pipe. He had much
to think about. One by one the lights went
out, and the village grew quiet. The moon
rose over the forest Oh the hilltop beyond
the stream, and he stretched his limbs and
smiled at it in drowsy content. He was so
wrapped in his reflections that he hardly
heard a voice that came to him over the
yellow roses.
@Bonne nnit, Philidor."
"Herrniam
you're to go to bed-at once!'
al couldn't. Imagine a saint going to
bed!"
you're not saint. You're prowler.'
"Let me prowl. I'm happy
4Why should you be?'
II love ytu-'
The shuttle. above him closed abruptly.
He waited III the shadow of the wall looking
upward. There was no sound.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Philosopher In a Quandary
CLARISSA carried double burden the
next day; but she breasted the keen
morning air so briskly that whatever her
OyyY, thO11ohic ,1DOr the S11hiect she gave