A TISI0ONV

striking the artist on the cheek. Mo Lovell never flinched - but the lady, rushig forward. caught her husband by the wrist. She looked at him, stll with laughter moher eves.

“Try not to be msance.”

The Vicomte giared at her with a glare which, at least, was characteristic,

“Why do T not kill her why 27

The lady only smiled.

“Theyv say that @ woman 1s devord of

Flow is it then sometimes with You, Philippe, arce alwavs thinking of St Martin - 1, of the Bouffes

humour. man ?

the Porte Parisien.”

The Vicomte turned to his friend.

“Victor, why do 1 not kill this woman 2~

M. Berigny only shrugeed his shoulders. Possibly hecause he was not ready with a more adequate reply. The Tady turned o the artist.

“Monsicur, 1 offer vou ten thousand apologies, which my hushand will one day offer vou himsell] as becomes a centleman of Trance”

The Vicomte repeated his mouiry

“NVictor, why do 1 not kill this woman 27

Only a shrug moreply. The lady went on:

“You have mmmortalized my poor face, msults !

Monsicur s my o husband vouom return. The Vicomte folded his s aoross his

chest.

Sleas cortam, Victor, that she stull ives D7

= One night, Monsicur, my husband Tocked e 1mnomy roon. me a prisoner. Why 2 Ahy do not ask me why! When he had Teft o mes Toescaped, not by the door which he had locked, bu by a door he had not noutced. This door led mto an apartment m which there was a stranger sleeping. 1 owas but an mstant that apartment -but the mstant m which it was necessary to pass through, "The sleeper never spoke to me: he never saw me with his waking cyes. But, even in his sleeps my poor, frightened face so flashed upon his bram that, cven in his waking hours, 1t haunted him so that he made of 1t a pieture a pieture of that vistion of the night 17

The Vicomte approached to s friend. e addressed him e a sort of con idential, but sull distinetly audible, aside

“Victor, 1s 1t possible that this 1s tue?

“ 1 beg, my friend, that of me vou will ask nothing.”

“ Monsicur, this mornimg I was at vour Academy. T saw my own countenance looking at me from the walls. For the first time | learned that my poor, frightencd

closcer

()7

Fle desicned to make of

17745 NG T 033 woman's face had appeared to a sleeping stranger moa viston of - the mght. Obh, Monsicur, Monsiceur !

The lady covered her face with her hands, It would, perhaps, be rash to sav that she cried 5 but, at least; she scemed to ery, and it it owas only sceming, she did it very well.

“Victor,” agan imquired the Vicomte of his friend, s 1t possible that this is rae 27

M. Berigny o owagged his o finger i the Vicomte's face,

“ D’Humicres, it now becomes a question of hats.”

The Vieomte Tad his hand on o his companion’s arn. " One mstant, Victor sull one mstant

more.”

The lady, uncovermg her cves which actually were sparkling with tears continued to address the artist

" Monsicur, Towill not speak teoyou o) my Tove for my husbard oy Phalippe b will not speak to vou of how we have heen parted for a vear a whole, Tong vewr o e, Nonsieur, o i 1T will not speak to vou of how, cevery mstant of that Tong, long vear T have thought of him, of how | have vearned for him, of how I have Tonged for one touch of his hand, one word from his lps, one glance from his eves. No, Monsieur, [ will not .\'IH“;II\' O Vol ol all thesce lllill‘u\n.

And tor this reason s "Thatt with e all things are fisheds 1 ogor never ooreton acam. My faee vou have made immortal

the rest of e will perishe For the wonan whose heart s broken there remans Lut one place the grave. Ttas to that place T oot

The lady had become as tragie as her husband — cven more so, in her way. she moved across the room with the an ol tragedy queen Parisian. The Vicomte was vistbly affeeted. He fastened @ convulsive clutch upon M. Berigny's arnn.

“Victor, tell me, what shall T do 2 Ndvise me, ohy my friend ! "This s a erttical monient mm oy lite D Tt s impossible that T oshould It her oo Antomette !

The Vicomte advanced, just e time, bhetween the lady and the door. “Monsicur, I entreat of vou this Tast

boon, to let me go. You have insulted nic m the presence of a stranger @ for meg there forc. nothing clse remains. You have i quired 1f you should kill me. No. Philippe. vou nceed not kill me o it as mysell T owill Kill o

“Antomette D

SToam no longer Antomette ]

am the