Evening Star Newspaper, January 26, 1895, Page 13

s THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. 13 a. EE: Bete arte . BEPSHARRET PRESCOTT Gporte® Vea Johnson & Bacheller.) Copyright,1805,by Bachelley CHAPTER IV. Beauxlieux was walking late that night on the stone terrace flooded with moon- ight. On one side the sea, not far away, swelled like the curve of some sliver shield and cast its own luster back upon the sky | and filled the night with the soft music of its murmur. On the other side he saw the old chateau, covered with vines, full of deep-set shadows. Voyez vous pendre au flane de la coliine Ces murs, ces tours, cette vaste ruine?” he repeated as he walked. “Aux temps passes une brupante cour Retentissait douce ce muet sejour, Ti fut peuple de heroes et de be! Il entendit aux nobles demoiseiles, Les chevaliers chanter des lois d'amour.” And just then he saw two shadows hurry- ing down the areade of the long disused chapel cloister, disused, since, when she had reorganized her household on the basis of comparative poverty, the duchess had suffered the abbe to go, accepting in his stead the offices of the village priest. “An, well,” Beauxliex i, a gentle smile fol- lowing the shadows, “the love of the noble demoiselle and the chevalier is no better worth than the love of Pierre and Victor- ine. And this may help to sirike the bal- ance with all that other, the loves, the luxury of that bruyante cour. Can it take less than the life time of centuries cf Beauxlieux to restore to the people all of which that bruyante cour, and such as that. has robbed them?” For he had already another point of view than that of his mother, who, belteving it the duty of nobles to hold their people in charge and provide for their happiness, was confident that the Beauxlieux could never have done otherwise. And he went back to his thoughts, which were now full of som- ber feeling and now of joyous hope. While at his studies In Faris BeauxHenx had penetrated the hidden side of life: he had seen sights that made him shudder again as he spoke of them to Jean, And a receiling these pourneys with M. Etievne casus he forgot the pal- Sy as far aces, the § es, the lovely women, the stupendous fortifications, the grim soldiery —all he had n, except the squalor, the | He was going back to crime, the poverty. J studies; he Paris now to finish his med would write every day to Jean; he would | see Pierre frequentiy enovgh, but Pierre outlook on life was already totally at va- riance with his and Jean's. Moreover, Pierre meant to be a rey make! their contention was to destroy money fs the first evil," he said, he looking across the lawn, that long ago had been filled In where once the moat gathered its water, and into the edge of the over- grown park, where a hare bounded across the open space. And suddenly something smote his vision like a blaze of giory and was gone again, shining, shapeless—a moon- beam cleaving the foam wreath of a © . an apparition of glittering mist, a white ghost of the old magnifleences come back to look upon the scene with him. For a moment the thought flashed on him that it was some masquerading play of Victor- ine’s, and then it had vanished so instantly that he knew it for an illusion of his eyes, of his brain, tired with thinXing and caring and sorrowing for sorrows he could not heal. And so he left the night and moon- light, and the cold, unquiet sea, and went to his slumbers. There had been a brief season of gayety In the first year after Beaulieux’s majority, when Pierre, who reported himself as doing finely, came home to marry Victorin whose hand he had asked of the duche: a wedding which took a great load off the mind of Olympe, since she knew the wiles of Victorine and the charm of being Duch- “And it W We Who Made Them So.” ess des Sarazines Beauxlieux, even in a re- “public, where it might be little more than being a duchess of rag fair. She had not chanced to hear Pierre say to Victorine that night in the wood: “I will make you | Duchess des Beauxlieux yet!” More than once in the two years’ time Beauxlieux had run down to the chateau for a sight of his mother, for a fresh trip with Jean, no one knew where, but from which he came back with an air, one could not declare were it more of sadness or of | roud determination. “I have been eating | lack bread,” he would say in ‘answer to his mother’s Inquiry. “I have been among my brothers. There is so much to do. They have not only to be helped, they have first to be taught that they need the help. They are in the dark; they do not even repe; they do not know that there is any ight. They suffer so. They are so patient. Some of them, my mother, seem like beasts of the field. And it is we who have made them so!” fe cried, springing to his feet. “It is the weight of our splendor that has crushed them into earth.” “Our splendor!” said his mother, bit- terly. “The splendor,” “that, thank Spa. is ours no more!” “My child! jBeauxlieux Sometimes,” he said, ““when I am with them my healt swells as if it would burst. I feel the very singing of the poor blood their veins. It would not be so poor ad mine not been too rich! We have trod- den them down so long, they have been so herded, so outraged, so cowed, so starved, their souls impoverished as their Dodies—my God! We have lived on their labor, our wealth {s their sweat, our thrones are planted on their slaughter! Often when I have seen the great car- riages driven along the Bois, the high step- ping horses in their golden harnesses, the women, rosy, round, their silks overflow- ing like petals of great flowers, the sight of them has made me tremble. I have felt the wheels of these carriages rolling through blood!” She listened, but she hardly understood him. She feared, but he half imbued her with his feeling. She doubted if he were not possessed of a sacred fury. And while she was sure that her son—Beauxlieux— could not be otherwise than right, yet a eat melancholy oppressed her, as if for e first time she saw thrones shake and the old order of things go by. “Oh, what shall we do with him, M. Etienne?” she eried when he had gone. “Nothing,” said M. Etienne. “The good God has him in hand.” Sometimes when Beauxlieux came home he had strange tales of his experience in the prisons, where he had gained permis- sion to practice and to study. Sometimes he had nothing at all to say, as if words fell short of power. Once, in contrast to all this, he brought his mother the most eharming Parisian costume, the daintiest Bat and mantle. It made her feel herself a weman of the world again when she put | them on. “You look like all the rest of | them!” said Beauxlieux, “only a thou- sand times lovelier than any of them! You os go up with me and see the new Paris. ‘ou get into a rut living in solitude, like the rest of the underground people. You hall go to the opera again; you shall go the Bon Marche.” “The extravagance, Beauxlieux. 3 do not wish to go.” “Reason the more that you should go. And as for the expense, if money does not ow on bushes now, yet I have all we eed. And, my first duty being to you, my | Mother, there will still be that which will ffice for ths new crusade, in saving those ho are In this day the sepulchre of Christ, carrying succor to how many of the and sorry r” i had plalnly become a passion with » this care for the spirits in prison, not with a wild gesture; No, no, and | “Te | walked, | orly behind iron grates, but in the bonds of rude ficsh. His mother could not explam why the whole thing gave her such vague uneasiness. She turned for comfort, as | usual, to M. Etienne. “It is time that he ranged himself, that I found for him, some young girl with a sufficient dot,” her thoughts summoning up an array of pos- sible and impossible young princesses. “But my people, my friends, are gone. The Chevalier St. Malo died last year. Mortignat is imbecile. I doubt if there is one left in the world who knows that the Duchess des Sarazines Beavxlievx lives! And he begins to have money. The bour- gceois spirit of the tine will seize him if we do not beware. Is it that it is the 1 all young men, playing, as he does, at a profession, so soon to arrive at wealth?” i-I do not know,’ stammered M. Etienne. “We—we may be sure—” The duchess looked at him in surprise. Sure of what? Was M. Etienne disturbed that I i found money easily? Of course, er a Sarazines Heauxlieux attempted he would do as well as the best. Had hot even poor little Vierre made ney? What is it, monsieur? You, also, you a fan, you should know. ve always had sufficient, madame,” said M. Etienne, with an air of cold re- straint quite foreign to him, and leaving her with an abrupt bow, as if he heard scme ore speaking without, he paused in the great hall to wipe his forehead. What he did know very well was that no young physician could bring home to his mother, from time to time, Worth costumes, hot- house luxuries, costly win or a pony ‘jaye to take the air, even though he deried himself everything as Beauxlieux did, and gave them to her because sensible that they were as much to her after long seclusion as sun and air to those others, the sufferers, as equal laws to the crafts- men, as liberty and life to the slave, as the bit of mother earth to all that tread upon it. “She is one of my people, too,” he said to M. Etienne. “And to each according to Kis need!" And then, by an unavoidable accident, M. Euienne had seen a scrap of paper, on which was noted, apparently, a balance that had made him feei as if there were nothing real left In the world. He called to mind the gaming debts of the old duke, his grandfather, stories of wild play, in which whole provinces changed hands and lands and serfs were staked against the value of a fair predendue’s affections. But anything like that, he knew as weil as he knew that the sky was above him, was impossiple to Beauxlieux. The worst he feared, he the royalist, was that place and pewer were throwing fortune into the young noble’s hands, so peradventure to win him to themselves. How he had come by such a sum of money his friend and tutor could not say—it had a strange Joek—but under any and all circumstances Beauxliecx must be right. What was of more consequence to M. Etienne than all the rest was that the duchess was uneasy eencerning it. Beaunxlieux’s twenty-fourth birthday was now approaching. He was away with Jean— Jean in the priestly garb he always wore now—on one of their trips which he cailed journeys into the night. His mother knew that he carried alms to the perishing, that he went to give them the h-ip of his pro- fession, for which alone he had learned and valued it, to teach their rights as human beings to whole clusters of slaves. One day she found a letter open on Beauxlieux’s , written, it said, from the blood of a vein; and she felt a horrible fore- beding that some day he, also, would be in the depths of some oubliette sending such a message to hearten those without. Oh, what had happened to the world, she cried, when a prince like beauxlieux felt himself of more worth than the tatterdemalion herding with his cows and sheep or crowd- ing the cellars gf filthy city courts! But now he was coming home! And when she saw him she forgot danger. He was there and the sun shone. With Beaux- lieux at her feet, with M. Etienne at the other side of the fire, what more had she to ask? She had Olympe prepare a toilet for her to wear on this birthday that should make him remember to whom he belonged—his mother, still the grande dame —and she went with Olympe to the secret place in the wall to bring cut the old Beauxlieux diamoa‘s, with half a pleasant anticipation of the flash of their awaken- ing, of the sudden sheets of luster that, after their thres years’ imprisonment, should stream out as if they would {l- lumine the very «byss into which the glory of the Sarazines Beauxlieux had fallen. duchess herself opened the large one, and instead of the burst of radiance—nothing. Only the loose, soft chamcis lining of the thing gave out an empty gleam. There was scme mistake. the jewels have been crowded into the other cases? Their fingers trembled, they knew not whY, as they tried to open them. One and ail, they were empty. The seldom worn coronet, the lesser diadem, the rivieres, those superb and matchless stones of the fillets and of the collar and of the sunburst that had been theirs for more than a thousand years, had vanished as if they had been soap tubbles. CHAPTER V. They ran back to the hidden niche; they dragged out the iron box. Both of them were empty also. The two women con- fronted each other, white and shaking. They had been robbed! What misery! What cruelty! Who was it who could mis- use them so? Who knew of the hiding place? Who had taken them? “Do not speak,” said the duchess. “Be quiet till I can think! Oh, say nothing, say nothing till I can think,” she murmured over and over. “Say nothing, my Olympe! Say nothing!" Without question, there was not a stone or spark left of the Beauxlieux diamonds. The duchess could have trusted Olympe with her life; she knew, of cougse, that nothing would be said about the loss of the diamonds till she spoke herself. And it seemed to her as if she had herself been stricken with dumbness. All her shadowy fears vanished like thin phantoms before this terrible reality of evil. Not that the diamonds were gone; not that any one could reproach her for neglect, was she concerned. What had she ever cared for them, other than as they represented the long-descended luster of the family itself? And it was not she who had been robbed, any more than the long line of all that dead and long people. She paced the great hall and looked angrily at the dark por- traits—were the eyes there stabbing her with reproach for what she had brought among them? She went out and essayed to busy herself among her late lingering flowers. It was no use; there was a worm at every root. When she walked along the shore the restless wash and roar of the water was the only thing in tune with the tumult of her thoughts. When she came in she whirled, without reading it, a letter of Beauxlieux into the fire that always smoldered on the hearth, and sat there wrapped in a cloud of gloom. She did not eat in these days. She did not sleep. White and thin and with a little breathless air, the blackness of her gown was not so black as the shadow that surrounded her. “They were his!” she said over and over to herself, like the tolling of a bell. “They were his—de quelque maniere. He had only to speak. I would have put them into his hand. But to—oh, no, no, no, let me not say the word! It is impossible. Mother of God, and it is true! Oh! Oh! Oh! Beaux- Meux! Beauxlieux, my son!” And her grief was more hopeless than that of another who buries her child. Sometimes she would wonder if she were dreaming. Or even, with a throb of relief, if it could be that she were crazed. Sud- denly she would deny it all, and accuse herself of an infamy. She to suspect the noblest, the truest, the loftiest of his line! She to believe evil of that upright, proud soul! And then the facts flashed before her again like a chain of lightning on the darkness—the ease that had insensibly ecme into the house, tho accursed gowns from Worth, the frequency of the costly jourreys, the repairs of the roofs of the chateau. Where had Beauxlieux obtained the money? “Oh, I can bear it no more,” she cried once, starting back from the em- brasure of the window as M. Etienne came in, and not knowing that she spoke aloud, “JT can bear it no more.” “Pardon me,” said the monsieur. “Par- don if I overhear. I have seen before that your grace is troubled. Have you lost all confidence in me, madame? At least, will you not remember that I am your physi- cian?’ He stood there as pale as she, his head bowed, his sad eyes at her feet. She ran toward him, but stopped, totter- ing, so that she would have fallen but for his quick arm. “Oh, monsieur!” she cried. “You are all I have—for he has broken my heart!” “You are wrong,” he safd to her, when some time afterward, with sobs and tears and wild cri and exclamations, she had unburdened her heart. “It is just as much out of the question as that the sky should fall. Doubt Beauxlieux? I would as soon —let me say it as I would say a prayer— doubt the Lord. It is simply impossible.” “Oh, so I said. Ii" “We will let it rest there then.” “Oh, Etienne; it is so long that you have been a ccmfort, a help, a shield to me.” “And will be forever!” “Oh, but the money, Etienne!” she cried, with recurring memories coming like the waves of subsiding water. “‘We who have been so long without money—all that money he must have!” wringing her hands again. “That is his affair. It is not mine. If the Duke des Sarazines Beauxlieux has 2 purse befitting him he came by it as the earth comes by the sun, through the grace of God. It is not possible that white should be black, and Beauxlieux is white! White as innocence and goodness. No, no, no, do not give it a thought. You wrong your- self. My God! You've wronged him. We must look elsewhere.’ ‘But why does the suspicion—oh, the ter- rible, hateful suspicion, the dreadful facts! Why do they all arrange themselves about bim?” she persisted. ‘Alas! Alas! Why, indeed, do I live?” Why does not my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth? It is my son of whom_I speak! Oh, we have had misfortune, Etienne, such mis- fortune! But never such misfortune, such despair as this!” “It is certainly a misfortune to lose the jewels,” said Etienne with calmness, the calmness of unbroken faith. ‘There is no other misfortune about it. We will take steps for their recovery. But as for Beaux- lieux—it is preposterous! No, no, two and two do not make three! That white flame of his Furns without dross. “Ah, I believe you!’ the poor duchess cried. “And what balm you bring a sore heart! Oh, Etienne, what should I do with- out yo But when night came and the duchess was in her own rooms again, the horror of doubt and fear overcame her anew. ‘There was her son's portrait as Jean had drawn it—the sweet serlousness, the lofty gravity, the piercing eye, the tender mouth. he poirtment have disordered you? Of what were you speaking’ What is it that you say about diamonds? She threw ovt her hands toward the empty cases cn the table, his eyes follow- ing the movement. For a moment he was silent and transfixed,,and he remained si- lent with perplexity and wonderment. But, directly his quick wit “had taken in the truth, he locked at her again, the tears sparkling suspended on her cheeks. There were tears in his own eyes. He took her hand. “My mother,” he’ said. ‘I would rot think that under any circumstances yeu could have believed this of your son. Do you not sce how it is? Victorine took your jewels. Pierre has disposed of them, and with the price of. them he goes into his enterprises. It is the meaning of his wealth. And it is with the money he re- ceives for the Beauxlieix diamonds that he buys the Bieuxlieux titles!” “What is it that I hear you say?” cried the duchess half startled out of the one terror by a new one. “The Beauxlieux tities! What cf the Beauxlieux titles?” “Why, nothing, except that I sold them to Pierre Jast June, and it is the matter of which I have been speakirg. Not yours, madame; not any title belonging to you; you still 1ctatn your address of honor, you are still the Duchess des Sarazines Beaux- lieux, if you choose, douatriere. But those which were my own, have I any use for them? I, a man without a fcrtune, and with other views? In these da when throres go urder and empires disappear in the gulf, ancé man, man climbs out, my mother, I ccunt it shame to hold titles, not won by myself, but won by men whos very ashes no longer exist! I say to my- self—the titles, they are a voice, a breath, they are non-existent attributes. But with the money that foolish Pierre ig willing to pay me for leaving him alone if he as- sumes the what can I not do for the peo- ple that were given in trust to those an- cestors of mine who betrayed the trust? It will buy lard, houses, maintain the pro- phets, the priests of liberty. Perhaps—who knows—buy dynamite “Reauxlicux!” “It will, at any rate, make my mother at ease all her days, I said. What succor will it take to sufferers! And if by means of it I can forward the cause of their uplifting and their freedom—ah, were it only one man who had heid his head like a beast's to the earth that I helped to hold it up in the face of God, it is better worth to me than all the titles of all my forefathers. And soI sold them to him; sold them every one. I, Louis Dagobert Clovis Francois Maria Angelique, no longer Duke des Sara- zines Beauxiieux, Prince De Franche Haupte, Count des Aiguilles, Conte de Grandes Landes, Baron Boissy, and all the absurd rest of them, my mother!” nd for what re: ins,” he said, after a “if it Is honor to be Beauxlieux, the The Duchess Herself Opened Them. candle flickering under it gave it a seeming life. She flung herself down before it as if it were an altar. “How, how, how could I doubt you?” she cried. “And, oh, how can I help it!” she said, presently. She knelt at her prie-dieu for hours, but she felt that help forsook her. She took tne | candlestick and went into her son's bere, studious rooms, without an o or luxury, only one picture on the walls, a face crowned with thorns. “He gave Him- self for the love of man,” Beauxlieyx ouce had said. “And can I do less?” As she went back the enormity of her own behavior overwhelmed her. But di- rectly afterward she saw her handkerchief, fallen on the floor—one of several he had sent her—knowing she loved fine, vheer things, and had used coarse ones so long. She snatched it and tore it with her teeth; then, 2s she walked the floor, she paused at the great armoire where Olympe had put away the things of his childhood. She unclosed it and lifted the little frock. She recalled him in it, running to meet her, his hair flying, his arms extended, his sweet face overflowing with smiles. He had not forgotten how to smile then. There was the little cap, too; her own fingers had wrought it for him before he was born, and what hopes and what prayers she had wrought into it! Here was a scarf he had worn at his first communion; here were the curls, the silken curls Olympe had shorn from his dear head. She kissed them pas- sionately; she wet them with her crying, a mother grieves so over the memorials of the dead! She had no longer a child. It was the rext day that Beauxlieux came down from town to the chateau. The duch- ess did not go to meet him as usual. She sent for him mstead to come to her. She was standing at her dressing table, strewn ‘One by one Olympe took the cases ana | With the empty jewel cases, white as ala- carried them to the dressing table. The | baster, her long black gown sweeping round her, her eyes like those of a fate. Startled’ by her appearance, he hastened toward her with an exclamation. But she threw out her arms in an interposing ges- WGnas anes 1a COnkH | ture. And then she wavered as she stood; and with a stride he was beside her, «nd, his arm about her, he had led her to a seat, and throwing himself on his knees be- fore her, he drew her face over to his. ‘What is it, my mother?” he murmured. “What alls thee? Art thou ill? Art thou suffering? Lean on me, kiss me, dear, sweet mother.” She withdrew from his clasp and pushed him off a little, her hand flat on his chest. “Oh,” she cried, transfixing him with her great despairing eyes. ‘“‘Oh! how could you, how could you do it CHAPTER VI. For a moment Beauxlieux looked be- wildered. He glanced round the room, where the light of the dreary autumn day came in through the faded daffodil draper- ies, as if the sun were still shining without. I do not understand you,” he said. “What does this mean, my mother? What disaster, what misfortune—” “What disaster!” she cried, sharply. “And you ask! Yo Is there worse dis- aster than when a mother finds her son— Oh, I cannot say it!’ tearing open the lace at her throat. “When she discovers—and a Beauxlieux— “Ah!” he exclaimed. “It is that, then. My faith, I had almost forgotten! I never dreamed it was going to affect you so, mother—” ‘Not your mother!” she almost shrieked. instantly upon his sale of no title can take that honor away. I am aiways and forever Beauxlieux,” with an inexpressible pride of bearing. “But it is impossible!” cried his mother. “I forbid it!” ‘It is done,” said Beauxlieux. “But you do not confer titles—it is the king, the council, the ministers, the gov- ernment—" “The government confers no more. You forget that, whether one lives up to it cr not, the motto now is liberty, fraternity, equality “You appall me! And, not be allowed to wear them, the lache!”’ “Who is to interfere? I shall not. Nor am J ever to marry. No! as he saw the protest in her face. “Bring others into the world to sorrow, to struggle, to endure? No, no, there will never be anyone to dis- besides, he will tu him. He appears in the world of Paris as the Duke des Sarazines Beaux- Neux, and no one will ever be the wiser.” sut, my son, heaven forgive me—do you then assist at a fraud, a felony’ “Hardiy,” said Beauxlieux, “the thing is too unsubstantial. now in a republic? Nothing. He gives me a certain payment for leaving him to play is part in peace. My pride might rebel— but the money is so needed by those others, those poor creatures. And, moreover,” said Beauxlieux, “I find the play sufficiently en- tertaining.’ And then suddenly the duchesse threw back her head and opened her mouth with such a peal of laughter as in many a year before had not rung through that old pile. “Victorin she cried, storine the Duchesse des Sarazines Beauxlieux! Vic- torine! Oh, I see her now! Siegneur Dieu, but it is too amusing! Victorine!’’ And all her white teeth glistened and the tears rolied out of her eyes, tears of merriment, tears of joy. “But not the le: she said, “if Vic- torine is a thief, if the Duchesse des Sar zines Beauxlieux is a thief, she must be brought to justice!” "said Beaux ieux. “We, who are Beauxlieux, cannot afford to have the name dragged in the dust. All the dia- monds in the world would not be worth it. And I have contracted with Pierre—I mean the duke—to that effect. If he in any way For a Moment He Was Silent. discredits the titles, I appear. Is it that you can forgive me now, my mother?” “Oh, Beauxlieux,” she sald, rising and putting her hands on his shoulders, “there is no question of forgiveness. You could never forgive me if there were. I could never forgive myself for my stupidity, my ignorance, my blindness, my crime! It is M. Btienne, heaven pless him, who never doubted you. If he has something to hear, my son, he—he has also something to tell you. Oh, Beauxlieux, I am so happy, I feel as though I had wings!” And as she spoke a lefel sunbeam broke from the low western clouds and fell across the room, and they saw gray sky and sullen sea transformed and glorified in a mist of gold. Sometimes now :n the summer months the old chateau is gay with people; the family have come back. Beauxlieux and Jean are there for a time. But for the greater part of the year the only sound within its walls (save the quiet footfall of Olympe, who ignores the existence of her niece, and fecls that ruin is abroad, and of the few servants there) is the echo of the rolling surf and the crying of the storm on the gray Atlantic. Mme. Etienne, who cannot afford to wear the title worn by Victorine, lives with her husband in Paris, a Paris that has no knowledge of her in her former estate, and with whose men of wit and science and poetry she forgets old titles and old glories. Sometimes she hears cf Victorine flaunting in the finery she loves still as when she risked all in the forest by string- ‘Never the mother of—a—thief!” “What!” he cried, feet. “Does any one—even my mother—"” and then with a look at her his old gentle- “I Can Bear It No Longer,” She Cried. ness and pity and love were uppermost again. “My mother,” he said, gently, then. “My mother, were they not mine?” “Then why not take them openly? Why creep in the dark to do so foul a thing—” “In the dark? Why, it is true I did not consult you. It seemed to me unnecessary. I thought you would object, and _ there ‘would be so much to be said. And then here in your seclusion I thought you might never know.” = “and does all that make it any the less robbery?” with a piercing scorn in her tone. “Whom kave I robbed? I certainly had the right. And Pierre paid me good money for them. He has done well, he says, the rogue. If that is doing well, he has done wonderfully—on the Bourse, in all the big enterprises. His hotel is a palace in the Faubourg. By the most singular turn of fortune, it is the old Hotel Beauxlicux it- self—"* “Do you mean—” she exclaimed. “No, it 1s too shameful to be true! Can a man acknowledge in this unblushing way that he robbed his mother of her diamonds and tock money for them? That he crept through her room at night to make off with every jewel—oh, not that I valued the diamonds! I would so gladly have given them if you had asked. Oh, oh, oh, the cruel, the accursed things that make me despise my own flesh and blocd, my own son! No, what am I saying? I have no son!” “Stop, stop, my mother! Go softly here. Is it that the long monotony and disap- ing herself with the stolen jewels that Pierre might see how well thelr glory be- came her—Pierre, who, taking advantage of the stepping stone of those diamonds, has gone on adding wealth to wealth. Mme. Etienne trembles only lest some misdeed of his shall throw a stain on the name that has lived a thousand years, unblem- ished. Sometimes indestructible recollec- tions give her a pang. But when her son —completely effaced though he may be from the eyes of the great world, as he goes and comes, on the dangerous errands to which he has devoted himself—returns to her for a breathing space, when she feels the velvet embraces of the little bour- geoise girl who has been born to her, and turning her head looks into the eyes of the man who has been her protector, loving her in silence for so many years, she feels the old Basque peasant woman assert her claim, feels herself espousing the cause of the people down there in the dark, in her different estate, and knows that she is unspeakably happier than the childless and lonely masquerader in the splendor of the Hotel des Sarazines Beauxiieux. ——_+e+—___. Only One Omission. From Truth. Leoking over the curriculum of one of our High Schools, and conning the exami- nation papers at a certain commencement, we could not help thinking: That we teach the children Danish, Trigonometry and Spanish; Fill their heads with old-time notions, And the secrets of the oceans; And the cuneiform inscriptions, rom the land of the Egyptians; Learn the date of every battle; Know the habits of the cattle; Know the date of every crowning; Read the poetry of Browning; Make them show a preference ie each musty branch of sciences ‘ell the acreage of Sweden, ae the serpent’s wiles at Eden; nd the other things we teich ‘em Make a mountain so immense That we have not a moment left To teach them Common Sense. Dandruff 1s due to an enfeebled state of the skin. Hall’s Hair Renewer quickens the nutritive func- tions of the skin. healing and preventing the formation of dandruff. What do the titles mean | eseeseeeetege % % sepees oS = set set % Seed ‘Seton “s + $ % Sexgee’ ostenteste tees Terre regarding its sotaresestons s Points of Interest, &c. Senses Sy # Academy, French. # Accidents and Emergencies. Agricultural Statistics. ZAlaska, Statistics of. % Altitude, Greatest in each State. S ambassadors of the U. 8. American Cup, Record of. “f° American Indians. Anniversaries of Impor’t Events. Federal coe for Poiscns. % Appropriations by Congress. 4 Areas of Countries. gparmy and Navs. $ Astronomical Phenomena. Satiantic Steamship Lines. % Attorneys-General. 4 Australian Ballot. Y Banke. B Bar Associations. {Kase Ball Records. 2, Battles of the Civil War. 4, Bible Statistics. ou ‘le Records. ¥ Billiard Records. ‘EB Bishops of Relig. Derominations. ZRoat Races. Horse Racing. Immigration. Interest La’ gp Fritish Customs Tarif. ‘f Building and Loan Associations. oe s edictary. Cabinet Officers. La eth alondar. itals of Principal Countries. Catholic Hierarchy. aveats and ‘Trademarks, Chinese Empire. Christianity, Statistics of. $ Churches and Sunday Schools. $ Cities, Popuiation and Statistics. Civil Service Procedure, Rules. 3 Languages. Colleges, Statistics of. Commerce. Foreign, Domestic. £00: Members of. ¢. Consuls-General and Consuls. Cycles of Time. Earth, Interesting Facts About. E Eclipses for 1895 and 1806. Easter Sundays. 4. Educational Statistics. Sectoral Vote. sSovsees Set Seateatee$ = ey o KNOWLEDGE VERY CHEAP! No matter what it is you wish to know, if it is “General Information” it is no doubt in the EVENING STAR’S ‘Almanac & Hand-Boo for 18905. : 352 pages of solidly printed Local and National Information—Statistics, Records, &c. —It also treats of the relationship of the Dietrict of Columbia and the National Government, duties of the District Commissioners, sources of revenue, information and statistics Educational, mercial, Charitable and Religious Institutions, A Partial List of Contents. Epcchs and Eras. Excentive Department. Expenditures of the Government. Exports and Imports. Farm Mortgages. Fastest Atlantic Steamships. Courts. , Federal Government, Federation of Labor. Fire Irsurarce Statistics, French Republic. Germany, Government of. Governors of States. Grand Army of the Republic. Great Britain; ker Dependencies. Historical Societies. Homes for Soldiers. and Tables.- Interior Department. $n 3, Largest in the World. | Internal Revenue. fe Bi sh Government. Interstate Commerce, Iron and Steel, Production of. Labor Statistics. Latitude and Longitude Tables. Legal Holidays. Life Insurance Statistics. Mails. Domestic and Foreign. Mamufactures, Statistics of. Marriage and Divorce Laws. Memorable Dates. Mexico, Republic of. Minerals, Production of. Military Academy. Monetary Statistics. Mortaiity in the United States. Nations of the World. Naturalization Laws. Navy Department. Negro Population. wspaper Statistics. 25c. a Copy. . To be had at the counting room or by mail. EVENING STAR NEWSPAPER CO. kk the District’s Financial, Com= Patent Office Procedure, Pauperism and Crime. Pension Department Popular Vote for President. + Population Tables. + Postal Information. og Post Office Department. Lublte Debt of the U. S. Pugilistic Records. Qualifications for Voticg. Racing Record: Railroads, Statistics of. Rainfall and Temperature, Religious Statistics, Revolutionary War. Rivers, Longest in the World. Rowing Events. Rulers of the Chief Nations. si sloahoaseatoatorsootoetententresenodsoosont Running Records, = = Salvation Army. BS Savings Banks. Scientific Associations. Single Tax Statement. Socleties, Secret and Fraternal. Sol System, Elements of. Sporting Events. State and Territorial Statistics. Statutes of Limitation. Storm and Cautionary Siguals. State Department. Tariffs, History of. ‘Treasury Department. Turf Records. 2. United States Senate. = Universities and Colleges. + Vice Presidents. + Vital Statistics, r aoe Pa Walking Record: &% War Department. & Weather Bureau. + Weights and Measures. + Whist and Duplicate Whist. World’s Fairs, Yachting Events. = Yale and Harvard Boat Racing. 4 Young Men's Christian Ass'n. a ae ees a Sees seetprtecteceatet : AT DURING OUR RETIRING SALE. Se Youths’ $1.75 Shoes for. Boys’ $2.00 Shoes for. Men's $2.50 Shoes for. Ladies’ $4.00 Shoes (sizes 1 to 8%) for. 1.50 Ladies’ $4.00 Shoes (larger sizes) for... 2.45 Ladies’ $5.00 Shoes for......++se+eee+ 8.50 Men's $5.00 Shoes for... ++ 8.90 Men's $5.00 and $6.00 Shoes (samples and broken lots) only.. wees 8.50 If we fall to get @ satisfactory offer for the stock, fixtures and lease we shall not keep this sale running much longer, hence the necessity of your calling early. THE -WARREN SHOE HOUSE, Geo. W. Rich, 919 F St. 4a25-T0d $1.25 1.45 1.65 . T, WALKER SONS, 204 10TH ST. N.W., CAR- Chas Lining, Felts, Fire Brick and Clay, Asbestos, ints, Brushes, Lime, Cement, two and three- ply Roofing Material. sel eT) Four Fifths--Five Fifths In The Purchase Household Goods. We've taken 20 CENT OFF usual prices of all CHINA AND GLASS WARE, BRIC-A-BRAC, LAMPS, KITOHEN UTENSILS ‘and HOUSE- HOLD FURNISHINGS. ; Special Counters ‘THAT HAVB HAD THEIR GOODS CUT 30, 40 and 50 Per Cent. —— Under what eer ute feels Yeo 02 Fines ‘that you uecds You'll save money by doing 80. .W.BOTELER& SON 923 Penna. Ave. 4222-404 BIG VALUES|QNCE SMALL Prices |4 WEEK Or once a month—that’s the way we arrange payments—and the amounts can be graded to suit your convenience. We want you to re- member that our kind of credit is nothing more or legs than accommodation—we offer it to you absolutely FREE—no notes—no interest. We sell Furniture and Carpets on CREDIT AT CASH PRICES. Our price marks are in the plainest kind of figures—and we invite you to compare them with the lowest cash prices you can find anywhere. We are ready to stert you to housekeeping—or to complete the furnishing of your house—NOW. ALL CAI MADE AND LAID FREE OF COST—NO CHARGE FOR WASTE IN MATCHING FIGURES. PLUSH OR HAIRCLOTH PARLOR SUITES—CHOICE, $22.50. SOLID OAK BED ROOM SUITE, $13. SPLENDID BRUSSELS CARPET, 50c. PER YARD. RELIABLE INGRAIN CARPET, 35c. PER YARD. MADE AND LAID FREE OF COST. SOLID OAK EXTENSION TABLE, $3.50. 40-POUND HAIR MATTRESS, $7. WOVEN-WIRE SPRINGS, $1.75. MEATING AND COOKING STOVES—ALL SIZES—STANDARD MAKES. YOURS FOR A PROMISE TO PAY. GROGAN’S MAMMOTH GREDIT HOUSE, 819-821-823 TTH STREET NORTHWEST, Between H and I streets. §a22-844 Buy Quickly If you'd buy at all. Shoes are going at a remarkable rate dur- ing our CLOSING OUT BALD. Values are without equals. Regu- lar §1.50 to $3.50 Ladies’ Fine French Dongola Kid Shoes are clearing cut at 80 CENTS. Plenty of bargains equally as big for you. Soc. SHOES. ucker’s, 1923 Pa. Ave. 4a25-284 RATLROADS. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Station corner of 6th and B sts. In effect 4:00 p.m. January 20. 1895. PENNSYLVANIA” LIMITED—Pall+ Dining, | Swoking and Observation Cars, Hai Geter to Chicago, Cincinnati, Indian< apolis, Louis, Cleveland ‘and ‘Toledo, Buffet Varior Car to Harrisburg. > 10:30 A.M. FAS£ LINE—Pullman Buffet Parlor ‘Jor and Dining Cars, Har- (0 AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS— arlor Car to Harrisburg. Sleep- s, Harrisburg to St. Louis, Cin- and Chicago. EXTItGSS—Pullman Sleep- xo and Harrisburg to Clevela nicago. - TiWESTERN | EXPRESS—Pull- Slecping and Dining Cars to St. Louis and Sleeping Car’ Herrisiurg to Cincinnati. 10:: ACIFIC EXPRESS—Pullman Sleep- 40 PM. CHIC Pallmar Buffet ing and Dining aily, ‘except Sunday. Eliulra and Renovo daily, except iamsport daily, 3:49 p.m. for Williatasport,’ Rochester, Buffalo Ningara Fa.ls daily, except Saturdas, wit Sleeping Car Washington to Suspension Bridge via Malo. 40 P.M. for Erie Canandaigua, Rochester, uftalo and” > Sleeping Cat Washington ro Elmira. Tor Philadelphia, New York and the Fast. 4:00 PLM. SRESSIONAL LIMITED,” all Parlor Cars, with Dining Car from Baltimore, for New York daily, for Fisladelphia week days. Regular at 7:05 (Dining Car), 7:20, §:00 (ining Car), 9.00, 10:00 (Dining Car) and’11:00 (Dini Cary’ anny 1215, B15. 4520, 6440. 10-00, 1138 p.m. On 7:65 Wining ‘Can, 8:00 Wining ). 11:00 (Dining Car)’ a.m., 12:15, 3:15, 10:00 and 11:35 p.m. For Phila~ delphia only, Fast_ Express 7:50 a.m. week days. Express, 2:01 and 5:40 p.m. daily. yston without change, 7:50 a.m. week dsye p.m. dail For Baltimore, 6:25, 7:05, 7:20, 7:50, 8:00, 9:00, and 11:50 a. 15, 2:01, 10:00, 10:30, 1 z 5, 3:40 (4.00 Limited), 4:20, 4:36, 5:40, 6203, . 8:15, 3:40 4:00 Limited), 7:10, 10:00, 10:40 and 11:35 eek Lae, 7:20 a.m. and 4:36 p.m. nday. 7:20, 9:00 and 11:50 a.m. and exept’ Sunday. Sundays, 9:00 ine. “Tlorida Special” for Jack- sonville and St. Augustine, 10:48 p.m. week days. Express for Richmond, Jacksonville and Tampa, 4:30 a.m., 3:30 p.m. daily. Richmond and Atlanta, 8:40 p.m. daily. Richmond only, 10:57 a.m. week days. Accommodation for Quartico, 7:45 a.m. daily and p.m. week days. 8:40, oa, For Ale: 0 4:25, ‘m. On Sands dria, 4:20. FS it 3, ¥ a.m., 2:15. , 7:00, 7:20, 9:10 and 10:52 p.m. ‘Ticket offices, northeast corner of 13th street and Pennsylvania avenue, ané at the station, 6th and B streets, where orders can be left for the check- ing of baggage to destination from hotels and residences. S. M. PREVOST, J, R. Woon, ‘General Manager. General Passenger Agent. Jazz SOUTHERN RAILWAY (Piedmont Air Line.) Schedule in effect Ja..uary 20, 1895. All trains arrive and leave at Pennsylvania Passenger Station. 8:00 A.M.—Daily—Local for Danville. Connects at Manassas for Strasburg, daily, except Sunday, ‘Western, and at Lynchburg with the Norfolk ai daily. . 11:01 A.M.—Daily—The UNITED STATES FAST AIL carrics Pullman Buffet Sleepers New York and Washingtoa to Jucksonville, uniting at Char- loite with Pullman 3 alvo Pall- nan Sleeper New York to Montgome: with con- nection for New Orleans; connects at Atlanta with st for Birmingham, Ala., Memphis, for Charlottesville and through . dzily except Sanday. EW YORK AND FLORIDA SHORT ED. | Puibnan § S York and ‘Washington to Augusta and . Augustine, Dining Car Salisbary first-class’ day coaches Washing- fine without change. -—Daily WASHINGTON AND SOUTH- WESTERN VESTIBULED LIMITED, composed of Fullman Vestibuled ‘Sleepers and’ Dining Cars, Pullman Sleepers New York to Asheville and Hot via Salisbury, New York to Mem- ham and New York to New Oricans via Atlanta and Montgomery. Dining Car from shore’ to Montzomers. INS ON WASHINGTON AND OHIO DI- leave Washington 9:10 A.M. daily, 4:32 except Sunday, and 6:33 P.M. Sandays Round Hill, and 6:23 P.M. daily for Hera- ing, arrive at Wasbington 8:34 AM. f. daily from Round Hill, and 7:06 except Sunday, from Herndon only. rains from the South arrive at Washing- ton A.M.. 7:42 A.M., 2:25 P.M. and 8:30 P.M, daily. Manassas Division, 10:28 A.M. daily, except Sunday, and 10:25 A.M. daily from Charlottesville. ‘Tickets, Sleeping Car ‘reservation and information fornished at office-, 511 and 1300 Pennsylvania ave- nue, and at Peansylvania Railroad Parsenger Sta- tio W. H. GREEN, General Manager (Eastern System). W.. A. TURK, General Passenger Agent. nig = L. S. BROWN, Gen. Agt. Pass. Dept. BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD. Schedule in effect January 6, 1595. Leave Wasiington from station corner of New Jersey avenue and C strect, For Chicago and Northwest, Vestibuled Limited express trains, 11: ‘00 For Circinnati, St. baled Limited, 3:30 p.m.; express, 12:01 night. For Pittsburg and Clev express daily, 11:25 a.m. and 8:35 p.m. r Lexington and Staunton, 11:25 a.m. For Winchester and way stations, 25:30 p.m. For Luray, Natural Bridge, Roanoke, Knoxvill Chattanooga, Memphis and "New Orleans, 11: pam. daily, sleeping cars through For Luray, 3:30 p.m. daily. For Baltimore, ‘week days, X7:10, x7:30, ¢ minutes), 45-minutes) a.m, x12.00, x1 45-minutes). =. 5 5 8: x5:30, 5:35, . E and 11:35 p.m. Sundays, x4:20, x7:39, 8: “sSitninuies). 28:90 ams 21200, "13:00, 1:00, 0 45-minutes), 8:25, 4:31, "6:00 45-mln- 1 10 and 8:30 am. 12:15 and 4:28 p.m. Sundays, 8:30 a.m.) 4:31 p.m. For Frederick, 9:00, 211:23 a.m., b1:15, 24:30, 5:30 p.m, For Hagerstown, 211:25 a.m. and a5:30 p.m. For Bord and way points, *7:05 p.m. For Gaithersivarg and, way points, 46:00, 98:00 aE 12:50, 83:35, 4:33, 5:35, °7:05, 9:40, a For Washington Junction and way points, b9: 29:50 a-m., b1:15 p.m. Express trains stopping rincipal stations only. 24:30, 25:30 p.m. OYAL BLUE LINE FOR NEW YORK AND YHILADELPHIA. For Philadelphia, New York, Boston and the east, , 4:20," 8: 00 a.m. Dining Car’, ning Car), 3:60, (6:00 Dining Cari, 8:00, Car, Senin at 10:00 o'clock). . (9:00 a.m. Dining Car), (12:00 Din- lng Car), 3:60, 6:00 Dining Can), (8:00. 1:80 Sleeping ir, open for 34 )-m.). Butter Parlor Cars onvall day trains. For Adantic City, 4:20 a.m, 10:00 am. and 12:00 noon. Sundays, 4:20 a.m.,” 12:00 noon. ‘aExcept Sunday. Daily.” Sunday only. xExpress trains.” Baggage called for and checked from hotels and residences by Union Transfer Co. on orders left at ticket offices, 619 Pa. ave., New York ave. and 15th st. and at depot. R, B. CAMPBELL CHAS. 0. SCULL, nid Gen. Manager. Gon. Pass. Agt. CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY. Schedule in effect December 2, 1894. Trains leave dsily from Union Station (B, and P}, 6th and B sts, rough the grandest in America, with the hal mest and most complete solid train serv- ice west from Washington. 2:25 DAILY.—Cincinnat! and St, Louis Special"—Solid Vestibuled, newly Equipped, Elec- trie-lighted, Steam-heated ‘Train. Pullman's finest sleeping cars Washinzton to Cincinnati, Indiano- lis and St. Louis without change. Dininz Car from Wa: e Cincinnati, 8:00 a.m.; -» and Chicago, 5:30 p. St, Louls, 6:56 p.m. 31:10 P.M. DAILY.—The famous “F. F. V. Lim- ited.” A solid vestibuled train, with dining car and Pullman sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexington and Louisville, without change. Observation car from Hinton, “Arrives Cincinnati, 5:50 p.m.; Lexi Touisvilic, 9:35 p.m; Indianapolis, 1 m., and St. Louls, 6:56 a.m. t for all points. EXCEPT SUNDAY.—For Old Point oe Daly cont for” Gord Ne 2:25 P.M. DAILY.—Express for Gordssville, Charlottesville, Waynesboro’, Staunton and jorincipal Virginia points; daily except Sunday, f Rich- mond. Pullman locations and — at compan;’s of- 1: 142) lvania avenue. =e ee. W. FULLER. a General Passenger Agent. ATTORNEYS. x X_ GOODRICH, LAWYER, 124 DEARBORN 8T, ‘Chicago, Established 186. Business legal and Quiet. Branches and facilities in other states. Bed-Gn CAMPBELL CARRINGTON, naiiiiag, 805 st Washing- Webster Law building, 5 st. nw., Was! ton, D.C. Residence, 933 K st. n. azz HOSEA B. MOULTON, PRACTICE IN THE SU- ‘preme Court of the United States, Court of Claims End local courts and before the executive de~ rtments, removed to Rooms 5 and 6, Eyuitable aildirg. 1 1. ja3-3m == <a es UNDERTAKERS. Undertaker & Embalmer, 940 F Street Northwest. Everything strictly first-class and on the most reasonable terms. Telephone call, 340 jal-tr AUGUSTUS BURGDORF, FURNISHING UNDERTAKER AND EMBALMER, 1334 NEW YORK AVE. N.W. Telephone 295. se23-tr MEDICAL. AFTER ALL OTHERS’ FATL CONSULT THE OLD reliable sp . Dr. Brothers, 906 B st. 8.w.; 50 years’ exp e jn treatment of all diseases of inen; consultation free and strictly covédential, jal8-1m°