Year: 1878

lovers. lie tells her what is being acted
at the theatre, who are the best dressed
women of Paris, who is the 'avorite' in
the coming races Those things are al
useful knowledge for young girl, who
no doubt, is already looking forward tC
thetime when she will be mistress ofan
agreeable salon. But she cares for the
information, not for the man who in
structs her. If her aunt would give her
leave to read newspaper every day, il
would more than supply the conversa-
ton of her cousin. The Vicomte makes
her laugh. That is a good sign for YOU
The young man who makes young girl
laugh is never dangerous as lover. He
may be very acceptable to married
women, but not TO young ladies. To
them love is sentimental comedy,
quite solemn in almost all its scenes. To
an experienced spectator, who has gone
through it all, and, alas will act part
in it no more, the solemity about it is
both comic, pathetic. You are playing
the lover'S part as admirably as Madam
oiselle is playing that of the lady. She
talks 10 you Of her passion for flowers.
She plays Chopin for you, and to Drieux
she plays noisy waltzes. l have heard
her describing to you, with tender sad
ness, beautiful moonlight walks under
the old oaks of the park of Massieux.
She was perfectly charming in her in
nocent sweetness, and some of these
days FEEL certain she will make an ad-
mirable wife at the head of your estab
lishment. You on your part are not
less correct. You recommend her good
books, you read her poetry, you take her
out upon the balcony and show her the
consultations of the armament, Orion,
Cassiopeia, and the Great Bear. All
this is as innocent as it is edifying; and
she has unbounded confidence in your
scientific attainments. You have been
trying to teach her the first principles
of geology; she does not understand one
thing you tell her, but she listens with
the most earnest attention. She would
do the same if yon explained to her the
beauties ola MuriAo, or. sSe philosophy
of Don Quixote. You might go further,
and endeavor to explain TO her the
music of Wagner and the philosophy of
Kant. Everything is working ftmously.
Only go on. Have courage; make your
offer for her hand, and will guarantee
it will be given you"


The poor young fellow listened gladly
to such speeches, and seemed anxious to
believe in the encouragement | gave
him, but | could not induce him TO follow
my advice. He had something at the
bottom of his heart which he concealed
from me, and which was hindering him
from putting an end to his painful I'M
certainty.


One evening, after long silence, Sta
chovitch asked me suddenly ifI thought
that man who knew he had not long to
live hId any right to marry.


His question took me by surprise
rose, and, standing in front of him,
looked at him attentively. He looked
badly: he was pale and thin, and his
bright eyes were restless and troubled.


"Stachovitch, you make me very un-
comfortable" l said, in paternal tone.
Look me full in the face"


His anxious look had changed to one
more calm and pleasant.


"You LOOK like a kind, old venerable
grandpa" he said. "Itdoes me good 10
::ook at you"


l began to laugh. "What a compli-
ment" I cried Il may be fifteen years
older than you, possibly, but that is no
reason for treating me as grandfather.
Besides, my looks have nothing to do
with this afi;ir. How is it? Are you
expecting to die? What do you mean
By it? You are pushing your taste for
eccentricity too far. Your being in love
does not excuse such nonsense. What
do you mean to die off, Heart or lungs?
Anything else would be too common
place for such lover. What is the
matter with your"


Nothing is the matter"


well, then, why ask me so absurd a
question? Why do you want to know if
man who thinks he has not long to
live has any right to marry?"


"I am wretched. Nobodys knows, no
body can guess, what l suffer"


He spoke with melancholy resigna
ton. His eyes were fixed upon the fire.
saw tears gather under the lids and
roll slowly down his cheeks.


l put both hands upon his shoulders,
and this time | said very seriously


You are a nldlaie imdginrire, my
dear friend. Such things are not new
in the history of medicine, and all such
delusions are durable. Promise me to
go and see doctor"


He shook his head.


do it to please me" l persisted


What would be the use?"


More than you think. Indeed,
must insist upon it. You have given
me your confidence and I am really
fond Of you. Our friendship imposes
certain obligations that 1 am going to
fulfil. 1 will come for you tomorrow
at one o'clock, and take you to see
physician whom you can trust entirely.
You must either go with me. or explain
why YOU will not go"


He turned towards me, and answered
very gently, Il will do everything you
wish, my dear friend. | thank you for
the interest that you take in me; but,
understand me, 1 am quite sure the
visit you wish me to make will result in
nothing. Do not be angry with meand
above all do not give me up. am very
unhappy"


The visit to my physician was entirely
satisfactory. The doctor informed my
friend that to all appearance ne was per
fectly well; that his heart and liver were
| in first rate order. As to the nervous
Excitement of which l have spoken, he
attached no particular Importance to it,
believing it to be symptom that would