The Washington times., 1923-10-06

and partly because she was excited.
That great mass Of personality
radiating magnetism, would excite
a statue on a tomb, she thought
to herself, even though you didn't
at all share her tastes, or like
the things she did.
And when 1 say. Sin with you,
I don't mean any Of the senti-
mental slip-noose business Of be-
coming householder with chill
dren-oh, whatever else, my dear,
no children. The only artists
who can afford to have children
are men, because men never really
love their children and can aban-
don them at any time they need
to. No woman can do that. Even
I could never have done that!
''You see, carissina mea, in
love a man always keeps most
of himself to himself, as in
everything else. You must do the,
same If your are not to be
cheated in every bargain that
life offers you. It is hard
lesson to learn. It win cost you
many tears. But tears are valu-
able. You cannot live and be an
artist, without tears. Shed them
freely and you win see how you
will grow"
She looked at her watch, ct ex-
pect Georges at five" she explain
ed, and swept on to her peroration,
Remember, think Of all I tell yoG
when your wise old friend who
knows life is far away. Remem-
Der! None of your Anglo-Saxon
nonsense about trying to get along
without sex-lffe. Take it, take all
you need Of it, but keep 1t separ-
ate from your real life as a man
does, and it will never poison or
embitter you" She laughed a lit
tie, triumphantly, you will do all
the embittering instead Of endur-
ing it. You have beauty. You
can buy anything you want with
it, If you learn how to use it. YOU
have what will advance you more
than any talent for music! You
have a nice talent, but you viii
go ten times as far as a woman
with a big nose and poor hair.
Make your brain a little mint, my
darling, coin your good looks into
legal tender, and buy success
She kissed the girl and dismiss
ed her, with another look at her
watch and then into the mirror.
Dazed.
Marise stumbled down the stairs,
a little dizzied by the sudden re.
moval of that pressing, urgent,
magnetic personality. To step out
suddenly from under 1t, was like
stepping into a vacuum. Her
ears rang.
At the street-door she paused,
waiting for the mist to clear from
before her eyes. She peered out
into the quiet street, as II she
were looking into life itself, the
life that Madame de Ia Cueva had
so magfsterially set before her.
And she loathed in anticipation
everything that was waiting for
her there.
There lay the world, grown-up
life, Rome, her career, before her,
and apparently there was nothing
in it which she would not detest.
Love :, the love that Madame de
Ia Cueva had shown her how to
get she shrank away from It
with a proud, cold scorn, her
nostrils quivering. Music
there was no music in that pro-
gram, only an exploitation OF
music to buy personal success for
her. And she loved music
fiercely she chung to that, as the
one thing that would not betr7y
her, the one thing she dared love
with all her heart.
She stood on the threshold OF
the street-door, dreading to take
even one step forward into it ali,
till the concierge looked at her
hard, with a disagreeable smile,
suspecting a rendezvous with a
lover. Marise saw the look, knew
what 1t meant, felt it push her
forward, knew in anticipation how
that sort Of look and what lay
back Of it would be always push
ing her forward into what shc
hated.
With a long breath she stepped
into the street, into the road that