Evening Star Newspaper, October 30, 1897, Page 23

a to ow CHAPTER V. I Am Forbidden te Forget. It must be allowed that by no possible | still that nowhere in the world is there union of perverse chances could I, desiring to appear as a staid, sober gentleman and not as a ruffier or debauched gallant, have had a worse introduction to my new life. To start with a duel would have hurt me little, but a duel in such a cause and on behalf of such a lady (for I should seem to | be fighting the battle of one whose name | was past defending) would make my repu- tation ridiculous to the gay and offensive to all the more decent people of the town. | I thought enough on this sad side of the matter that night at the inn, and despair would have made a prey of me had I not hoped to clear myself to some degree by the step on which I had determined. For | I was resolved to abandon the aid in my career that the king’s unexpected favor had offered, and start afresh for myself, free from the illicit advantage of a place gained endeserveily. Yet amid my chagrin, and in spite of my virtuous intentions, 1 found myself wondering that Cydaria had remem- bered; I will not protest that I found no pieasure im the thought; a young man whose pride was not touched by it would bave reached a higher summit of severity or a lower depth of insensibility than was mine. Yet here also I had made vows of renunciation concerning which there was naught to say, but that, while very noble, they were m all likeHhood most uncalled ! for. What would or could Cydaria be to mi now? She flew at bigger game. She had flung me a kindly crumb of remembrance; she would think that we were well quit, may, that I was overpaid for my bruised heart and dissipated illusion. It was a fine, fresh morning when Mr. Darrell and I set out for the place of meet- ing, he carrying a pair of swords. Mr. . myn had agreed to second my opponent, and I was glad to learn that the meeting was to be restricted to the principals, and | rot, as too often occurred, to embroll the seconds also in a senseless quarrel. We walked briskly, and, crossing the Oxford road at Holborn, struck into the fields be: yond Montague House. We were first at the rendezvous, but not long to wait before three chairs appeared, containing | Lord Carford, his second, and a surgeon. The chairmen having set down their bur- dens, withdrew some way off. and we, be- ing left to ourselv: ade our preparations a3 quickly as we m: SRS espectally urging speed, for it seem at a tre agair had got about the town, and he| ad no desire for epectators. 2 Now, although I desire to write withont malice, and to render fullest justice to those whom I had least cause to love, I am hound to say that my Lord Carford seemed to be most bitterly incensed against me, whereas I was in no way incensed against him. In the first instance he had offended without premeditation, for he had not known who I was. His subsequent inso- lence might find exeuse in the peremptory. phrasing of my demand for apology, too curt, perhaps, for a young and untried man. Honor fcrcei me to fight, but noth- ing forced me to hate, and I asked no bet- ter than that we should both escape with as Httle hurt as the laws of the game al- lowed. His mood was different. He had been bearded,and was in a mind to give my beard a pull—I sveak in a metaphor, for beard T had none—and possessing some reputation as a swordsman, he could not well afford to let me go untouched. An old sergeint of Gen. Cromwell's, resident at Norwich, had instructed me in the use of the foils, but I was not my lord’s equal, and I set it down to my good luck and his fury that I came off no worse than the event proved. For he made at me with great impetuosity, and from beginning to end of the affair I was wholly con- cerned in defending myself. This much I achieved successfully for some moments, and I heard Mr. Jermyn say, “But he stands his ground well.” Then came a cun- ning feint, followed by a fierce attack and a sharp pang in my left arm near the shoulder, while the sleeves of my shirt went red in a moment. The seconds dart- ed in between us, and Darrell caught me round the waist. “I'm glad it was no worse,” I whispered to him, with a smile; then I turned very sick and the field started to go round and round me. Fer some minutes I knew noth- ing more, but whe was busy in Mndizg up my arm, while the three gentlemen stood together in a group a little way apart. My legs shook under me, and foudtless I was 2s white as my mother’s best linen, but I was very happ’ feeling that my nonor was safe, and th I had been, as it were, baptized of the com- pany of emen. So Mr. Jermyn seemed to think, for when my arm was dressed | and I had got my clothes on again, with some pain iken sling under my elbow, he came ar raved the surgecn’s leave ‘to carry me off to breakfast. ‘The re- quest was granted on a promise that I shoula from inflaming food and ‘ordingly set “HE STANDS HIS Having come to a tavern we were regaled very pleas- myn (although a small man in my opinion, el by ri a ures in love and his exploits on the field of honor. Mean- while Lord Carford ireated me with distin- uished courtesy, and I was at a loss to nierstand his changed humor unt{l it appeared that Darre!l Wad acquainted him with my resolution to surrender the com- mission that the king had bestowed on me. As we grew more free with one another, his lerdship referred plainly to the matte: declaring that my conduct showed the nicest honor, and praying me to allow his own surgeon to visit me every day until my wound should be fully cured. His marked politeness and the friendliness of others put me in better humor than I had been since the discovery of the even- ing before, and when cur meal was ended, about 11 o’elock, I was well nigh recon- ciled to life again. Yet it was not long be- fore Carferd and £ were again good jes, and crossed swords with no less zest, although on a different fala. I had been advised by Darrell to return at once to my inn, amd there gest quietly until evening, leaving my fourney to Whitehall for the next day, leat too much exertion should induce a fever in me; and In obe e to his counsel I began to walk gently along Drury lane on my way back to Covent Garden. My Lord Carford and Mr. Jermyn had gone off to a cock fight, ;Where the king was to be, while Darrell had to wait upon the secretary at his of- | meditations what they might, suddenly interrupted by the sight of a I revived the surgeon | § J aces: therefore I was alone, and, going easily, found fully enough to occupy my attention in the business and incredible ; Stir of the town. I thought then and think such a place for an idle man as London; where else has he spread for him so con- tinual a benquet of contemplation; where else are such comedies played every hour for his eyes’ delight? It is well enough io look at a running river, or to gaze at such mighty mountains as I saw when I jour- neyed many years later into Italy, but the mountain moves not and the stream runs always with the same motion and in its wonted channel. Give me these for my age, but to a young man a great city is queen of all. So I was thinking as I walked along; or so I think now that I must have thought; for in writing of his youth it is hard for a man to be sure that he does not transfer to that golden page come of the quieter characters which later years print arm gave me an interesting air. Be my crowd Tavern. men, decent folks some, others porters, ficwer girls and such like, were gathered Jn a circle round a man who was pouring out an oration or sermon with gréat zeal and vehemence. Having drawn nearer, I paus- ed out of a curiosity which turned to amusement when I discovered in_ the Preacher my good friend Phineas Tate, vith whom I had talked the evening be- fore. It seemed that he had set about his tesk without delay, and if London was still unmindful of its sins, the -fault was not to lie at Mr. Tate’s dcor. On he plung- ed, sparing neither great nor small; if the court were sinful, so was Drury lane; if Castlemaine (he dealt freely in names and most sparingly in titles of courtesy) were what he roundly said she was, which of he women about him was not the same? How did they differ from their betters, un- less it were that their price was rot so high, and in what, save audacity, were hey behird Eleanor Gwyn. He huried this last name forth as though it marked a climax of iniquity, and a start ran through me as I heard it thus treated. Strange to say, something of the effect seemed to be produced on his other hearers. Hitherto they had listened with good-natured toler- ance, winking at one another, laughing when the preacher’s finger pointed at a neighbor, shrugging comfortable shoulders when it turned against themselves. They are long suffering under abuse, the folks of London; you may say much what you will, provided you allow them to do what they will, and they support the tmputa- tion of unrighteousness with marvelous composure, as long as no man takes It in a hand to force them to righteousness. As they are now they were then, though many charges have passed over the country and the times; so will they be, although more transformations come. But, as I say, this last name stirred them to a new mood. Friend Phineas rerceived the effect that he had made, but set a wrong meaning on !t. Taking it as ground for encouragement he loosed his tongue yet more outrageously, and so battered the un- happy subject of his censures that my ears tingled, and suddenly I strode quickly up to the group, intent on silencing him, but a great, brawny porter, with a dirty red face, was beforehand with me. Hlbowing his way irresistibly through ‘he rank, he get himself squarely before Phineas, and, wag- sing his head stgnificantly enough, growled out? “Say what you will of Castlemaine and the rest, Master Ranter, but keep your tongue off Nelly.” A murmur of applause ran round. They knew Nelly; here in the lane was her the lane near the Cock and Pie } kingdom. “Let Nelly alone,” said the porter, “if you value whole bones, master.” Phineas was no coward, and threats served only to fan the flame of nis zeal. I had started to stop his mouth. It seemed likely that I must employ myself in saving his head. His lean frame would crack end break in the grasp of his migity asseilant, and I was loath that the fool should come to harm, so I began to push my way through toward the pair, and arrived just as Phineas, having laun d a most peinted dart, was about to pay ‘for his too great with a blow from the port2r’s mutton I caught the fellow’s arm as he raised and he turned fiercely un me, growling, you his friend, then?” I,” I answered. “But you'd kM fist. it hi man.’ “Let him heed what he says, then» Kill him! Aye, and spare him readily.” The affair looked awkward enough, for the feeling was all one way, and I could do little to hinder any violence. A girl in the crowd reminded me of my helplessness, touching my wounded arm lightly and say- ing, “Are you hungry for more fighting, sir?” said I. him “He's a mad man,” t alone. Who heeds what he says?” Friend Phineas did not take my defense in good part. “Mad, am I?" he roared, beating with GROUND WELL.” his fist on his Bible. “You'll know who was mad when you He howling in hell fire. And with you that—" and on he went again at poor Nell.- The great porter could endure no more. With a@ seemingly gentle motion of his hand he thrust me aside, pushing me onto the bosom cf a buxom flower girl, who, laughing boisterously, wound a pair of sturdy red arms around me. Then he stepped forward, and, seizing Phineas by the scruff of the neck, shook him as a dog shakes a rat. To what more violence he would have proceeded I do not know, for, suddenly, from above us, out of a window of the Cock and Pile, came a voice which sent a stir through my veins. by people, good people,” said the voice, “what with preaching and brawling @ body can get no sleep in this lane. Pray go and work, or if you've no work, go and drink. Here are the means,” and a shower of small coins came flying down heads, causing an mediate wild My flower girl loosed me: that she might take her part in this. fray. stood motionless, stift limp and lank, in’ hig hi kis mind. Perhaps I thought of nothing at all, save that this mam here was a fine fel- low, that girl there a pretty wencn, that my coat became me well, and my wounded they were Here fifty or sixty men and wo- ’ The young mother's Re prencher en tease BELGIUM’S CAPITAL acl sad oye et poor girl who earns am honest living, gives n Beceeina baby & atouge to the needy, and is withal a good Protest- or 5 P gt FOG ant?” Then she called to the porter. “Let After a few minutes, during which I wait- < mae less care solici- him go with what life you've left in him, very uneas! Brussels is but a Small Edition of Sn aon | en im go.’ grec rain “You heard what he said of ” i Physical resources. She the fellow sullenty. supe dees Paris. needs all the strength- ‘ye, I hear what everybody says of ening and sustaining .”” she answered carelessly. “Let him wy Aye is gee ‘The porter sulkily released his prey, and | seated herself agein|at tHe table, looking RULED BY A PLEASURE-LOVING KING mot to fall a victim to Phineas, set free, to gasp and shake | up at me with eyes in wi! T seemed the organic weaknesses himself. sae col bier aes to ae in Sete cue - a a incident to maternity. porte! wi ing by woul wease you, Simon,’ The gtandest i ith & last oath of warning to hie & glance that at Bed Then and then only did she look at me, who had never ceased to look at her. When he saw me her smile sl hy “A. happy morning!” she said, clasping her little hands. ‘Ah, a happy morning! Why, ‘tis Simon, my Simon, my little Si- mon from the country. Come up to me, Simon. No, no, your pardon; I'll come down to you, Simon. In the parlor, in the parlor. Quick! I'll be down in an instant.” The vision vanished, but my gaze dwelt en the window where it had been, and I needed Phineas Tate’s harsh voice to rouse me frem my stupor. ‘Who is the woman?” he demanded. And the People Wink at His Little Peccadilloes. gracious recep’ complete silence, I invoking an earthquake or any convulsion of nature that should rescue me from my embarrassment. Cer- tainly the king did not hasten to do me this Kindly service. He grew grave and seemed displeased, nay, he he frowned most distinctly, but then he smiled, yet more as though he must than because he would. I do not know how the thing would have THE HAUNTS OF HIS COURT ———_ Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. BRUSSELS, October 1807. HIS IS BRUSSELS, th® capital of the She sprang up in wonder, and anger also showed in her eyes. ‘ “To surrender it? You mean in truth to surrender it? And because it came from ” ‘Again I could do nothing but bow. That I did with the best air'I could muster, al- | ended if the Duke of Buckingham had not King of the Belgians, | of abundant nouri: ent, and fortifies the ‘Why—why—Mistress Gwyn herself,” I] though I had no love tor my part in this | burst out .alaughing again, at which the “alittle Paris,"as the | mother with permanent . scene. Alas for a man who. being with } king could not restrain himself, but began i: i mmiered. ‘Herself—the woman herself?’ he asked her, must spend his time in chiding. to laugh also, although still not as though m4 “ ” cured “ k: eagerly. Then he suddenly drew himself ‘Well, I wish I hadn't remembered you,” | he found the jest altogether to his liking. scription.” No wtcgtaw en om + she said resentfally. “So, sir,” said the king, composing his devised for this purpose by an educated, “Thanks be te God, thanks be to God, for it “Indeed madam, I wish that I also had | features as he addressed me, “you are not French retort mali-| skilled physician of thirty years’ experience may be His will that this brand should be | forgotten.” tr aes desirous of bearing my commission and ciousily. The persist- and an expert in this particular Stench of “You have, or you wOwid. never use me | fighting my enemies for me?” ent gossip that has of} medical i ould fight for your majesty to the death,” said I timidly, but with fervor. “Yet you are on the way to ask leave to Practice. The marvelous effects of this medicine are more fully described in one chapter of “It is my memory that makes me rough, late attached madam. Indeed, how Should I have forgot- itself to this gay, old roy- ‘7 i 3 Dr. Pierce’s : illustrated book, ten? ; resign your commission. Why, sir?” o . page . . “You hadn't?” she asked, advancing near-1 { could not answer. It was impossible to Marander lends an} “The People’s Common Sense Medical Ad- er to me. “No, in truth, I believe you f state my reasons to him. tional piquancy| viser,” a k which every woman ought hadn't. And, Simon, listen.” And now she| “The utility of a woman’s help,” observed to the city of his| to read. A paper-bound copy will be sent stood with her face but a yard from mine, } the king, “was apparent very earlx in the pleasures. absolutely free on receipt of 21 one-cent and again he- lips were curved with mirth and malice. “Listen, Simc: she said; “you nd you shall not for- “It is very ilkely,” said I simply, and I tovk up my hat from the table. “How fares Mistress Barbara?” Nell suddenly. “I have moet waited on her,” I answered. “Phen, indeed, I am honored, although our meeting was somewhat by chance. Ah, Simon, I want to be so angry with you. But how can I be angry? I can never be angry. -Why’’—and here she even came a little closer, and she was now smiling most damnably—nay, I mean most delightfully; but it is often much the same—‘I was not very angry even when you kissed me, Si- The King of Belgium has eaten up the fortune of the ex-Empress Carlotta. ‘he King of Belgium protects the gambling es- tablishments of Ostend, Spa and Brussels. The King of Belgium is used to advertise a little dancer of the Paris opera. The world is tolerably familiar with his life and ad- ventures. And an understanding of the character of his easy-going, pleasure-loving subjects will go a long way toward an un- derstanding of the giddy life of their easy- going, pleasure-loving, windy-whiskered po- tentate. The king is master in his capital. Some time ago the citizens of Brussels thought they had reason to complain of their king. They got up a demonstration. To the number of 9,000 they went to the Park, without turzult, without cries, and drew themselves up before the palace. There was a moment of silence. Then with a single voice they cried—or rather, said, with Belgian accent “A bas le Roi!” (Down with the king!) (A pause.) “A bas le Reine!” (Down with the (Another pause.) “A bas le Comte e Flandres!” (Down with the Count of Flanders!) (The brether and heir of the King.) Then they walked off. But sud- denly, as if seized by remembrance, they came back, and with the same calmness, added: “Et la comtcsse aussi!” (And the countess, too!) To Oblige the Policeman. ‘They were understood. The king saw that he had gone too far, and immediately the reform, or reforms, the people iad their hearts set on were granted. With the Bel- gians one may go very far—they are so easy-going of themselves—but when the Belgians speak their last word, every one whu knows them knows that it is time. And all with such politeness! ample, one evening in front of the Brussels bourse two drunken men were fghting. Slowly, regularly, heavily, they let their fists fall on each other's heads without a scintilla of science. A gardien de la paix drew near and tried to separate them. Understand that he exhorted them to separate themselves and did not intro- duce himself into the rew. “Go hom The drunken men continued thumping each other. “Go home, I tell you!” The fists kept falling with a tranquil regularity. “I shall be forced to arrest you!” No effect. The crowd stood listening, looking at the lighters, and they did not interrupt their work Without any impatience, the gardien in- sisted, explained to them the penalties’ to which they were exposing themselves and once more said, “Go home!” At last, as if to make an end of argument, he added, be- seechingly, “Pour me faire plaisir!” (“Then do go home to please me!) The drunken men stopped, looked at him, separated—and each one went his way! The King and the Ballet. The Bruxellois is gay, yet he has something about him not exactly heavy, but reflective. He moves a little slowly, but he moves, and when he moves it is without unseemly haste and undue effort. The Bruxellois, being gay himself, has reasoned it out that his king should not be interfered with in his gayeties. And, being slow and reflective, he does not often give way to anger at public scandal. It is thus that, although the politics of Belgium at the present moment are in a state of chaos, they do not often touch the king, who goes his way. His way is two- fold. First, the king is a man of pleasure im the good old-fashioned sense; second, the king is a man of husiness in the fine new sense. He owns personally half the Congo Free State, which our late lamented Amer- ican citizen, H. M. Stanley, got for him. The pleasure of the queen is in the thea- ter. It is known that she is a great musi- cian und attends all the first nights of the ‘Theater Royal de la Monnaie. The king is more moderate in his taste for music. He remains in the palace, except for the bal- let. The appreciation of the king for that beautiful but waning art is that of a true amateur. The second pleasure of the king is horse- back riding, and he rides a great deal, with no other guard than one horseman, who is much more solemn than himself. The sec- ond pleasure of the queen is to drive a Your-in-hand. There are two horsemen in front of the carriage, a man on the seat, and two horsemen behind. Formerly, it seems, she drove six-in-hand, but after a few accidents she gave it up. A Little Paris, Indeed. The court is simple and tranquil. The outward show, except for official cere- monies, is reduced to the strict minimum. There is a post of carbineers in front of the Palace, sentries at the different gates, and nothing more. The Comte de Flandres goes out walking with his wife, limping a little and saluting cordially those whom he meets. Brussels is sometimes called a little Paris. If the tourist has managed to choose a ho- tel patronized by the English, and takes the table d’hote, his first impression will make him think it is a little Paris, indeed. The street life has not much of Paris or of anything at all, except a certain emptiness, as if the people had gone out of town. It is useless to insist upon the curiosities, the Church of St. Gudule, the little cherub of the fountain, the statutes of the martyrs and the musuem, with its Rubens, ‘Teniers and Van Eycks. They leave the traveler unconvinced. All the famous gayety and charm of Brussels center round the pleas- ures: - the pong The theater and op- era, horses, social life—right-handed and Jeft-handed—eating, drinking, sleeping— these are the pleasures of the Belgian capi- theaters which give you first stamps topaythe mere cost of mailing. Address World's Dispensary Medical Asso- ciation, Buffalo, N.Y. A handsome cloth- bound copy for thirty-one stamps. W. R. Malcolm, of Knobel, Clay County, Ar- ee ponince U last wrote you we have a born to us. ife took we Es ly wile your 1 Discovery” and also your "Fa. vorite Prescription’ all during the ex nt Period and until confinement, and she fsa ‘no to mention. A stoutet, heartier child was never born. Our child will be one year of age the 8th inst. and .she has not been sick @ day. Has not had so much asthe colic. It is@ fact, sir, and we have not had to be up with her birth.” ees history. Even Adam was glad of ‘She was his wife, sir,” interposed the duke. “I have never heard of the ceremony, said the king. “But if she were, what dif- ference.’ “Why, it makes a great deal of difference in many ways, str,” laughed Buckingham, and he glanced with a significance which I did not understand at the boy who was waiting near with a weary look on his Eretty face. The king laughed carelessly, and called: “Charles, come hither.” Then I knew that the boy must be the king’s son, afterward known as Earl of Plymouth, and found the meaning of the duke’s glance. “Charles, what think you of women?” the king asked. The pretty child thought for a moment, then answered, looking up: “They are very tiresome creatures, sir.” “Why, so they are, Charles,” said the king gravely. “They will never let a thing alone, sir. a “No, they won't, Charles, nor a man, either.” “It’s first this, si a garter or a bow. “Yes, Charles, or a title or a purse or a commission,” said the king. “Shail we have no more to do with them?” “I would desire no more at all, sir,” cried the boy. “It appears, Mr. Dale,” said the king, turning to me, ‘that Charles here and you and I are all of one mind-iz the matter of women. Had heaven been on our side, there would have been none of them in the world.” He seemed to be examining me now with some degree of attention, although I made, as I fear, a very poor figure. Lord Quinton came to my rescue, and began to enlarge on my devotion to his majesty’s person, and my eagerness to serve him in any way I might apart from the scruple which he had ventured to disclose to the king. “Mr. Dale says none of these fine things for himseif,” remarked the king. “It Is not always those who sa who do most, sir,” pleaded my lord. “Therefore this young gentleman, who says nothing, will do everything?” The king turned to his companion who wore the plaster, and had as yet not spoken at all. “My Lord Arlington,” said he, “it seems that I must release Mr. Dale.’ “TI think so, sir,” answered Arlington, on whom I looked with much curiosity, since he was Darrell’s patron. “I cannot have servants who do not love me,” said the king. “Nor subjects,” added Buckingham, with a malicious smile. “Although I am not, unhappily, so free in the choice of my ministers,” said the king. Then he faced round on me and addressed me in a cold tone. “I am reluctant, sir, to set down your conduct to any want of affection or ‘loy- alty toward me. I shall be glad if you can show me that my forbearance is right.” With this he bent his head slightiy and moved on. I bowed very low, shame and confusion so choking me that I had not a werd to say. Indeed, I seemed damned be- yend redemption, so far as my fortunes rested in obtaining the king’s favor. Again I was left to myself, for the king, anxious, as I took it, to show that his dis- pleasure extended to me only, had stopped again to speak with my lord. But in a moment, to my surprise, Arlington was at my side. “Come, sir,” said he, very genially, “there's no need of despair. The king is a little vexed, but his resentment is not ob- stinate, and let me tell you that he has been very anxious to see you.” “The king anxious to see me?” I cried. “Why, yes. He has heard much of you. His lips twitched as he glanced at me. I had the discretion to ask no further ex- planation, and in a moment he grew grave again, continuing, “I am also glad to meet with you, for my good friend Darrell has sounded your praises to me. there are many ways of serving the king. “TI should rejoice with all my heart to find one of them, my lord,” I answered. “I may find you one, if you are willing to take it.” “I should be your lordship’s most humble and grateful servant.” “Tut; if I gave I should ask in return,” said he, and he added, suddenly, “You'r good churchman, I suppose, Mr. Dale?" “Why, yes, my lord, I and all my family. “Good, good. In these days our church has many enemies. It is threatened on more than one side.” I contented myself with bowing; when the secretary spoke to me on such high matters it was for me to Hsten and not to bandy opinions with him. “Yes, we are much threatened,” said he. “Well, Mr. Dale, I shall trust that we may have other meetings. You are to be found at Mr. Darrell’s lodging? You may look to hear from me, sir.” He moved away, cut- ting short my thanks with a polite wave of his hand. Suddenly, to my amazement, the king turned round and called to me: “Mr. Dale, there is a play to be acted at my house tomorrow evening. Pray give me the pleasure of your company.” I bowed almost to the ground, scarcely able to believe my ears. “And we'll try,” said the king, raising his voice so tnat not only we who were close to lim, but the gentlemen behiad aiso, must hear, “to find an ugly woman und an honest man, between whom we may place you. The first should not be difficult to come.on, but the second, I fear, is well nigh impossible, unless another stranger should come to court. Good day to you, Mr. Dale.” And away he went, emiling bg Pec ied and holding the boy’s hand gto ke continued.) ——__ Successful Operation. From Life. “Doctor, was that operation on old Mr. Scadds a success?” “A perfect success, sir.’ “It was my impression that he died. on ottiae ey Be aia Rot survive, but the eration was eminent successful. Ws had been paid for {t in advance.” . asked 5 often as twice at night since her these officers are handsome fellows of good family, keeping from their Flemish blood only a kind of balance and solidity. have fine horses, whi fully well. It is a treat to see them pass. Theiz service cannoi be exacting, for you meet them everywhere, at every hour. mo! It is not for me to say what answer to that speech she looked to receive. Mine was no more than a repetition of my bow. “You'll keep the commission, Simon?’ she whispered, standing on tiptoe, as though she would reach my ear. “I can’t,” said I, bowing no more and lcsing, I fear, the air of grave composure that I had striven to maintain. For I saw what seemed a light of triumph in her eyes. Yet that mood passed quickly from her. She grew pensive and drew away from me. I stepped toward the door, but @ hand laid on my arm arrested me. “Simon,” she asked, “have you sweet memories of Hatchstead? “God forgive me,” 1 said confusedly, “sweeter than my hopes of heaven.” She looked at me gravely for an instant. Then, sighing, she said: “Then I wish you had not come to town, but stayed. there with your memories. They were of me.” ‘Of Cydaria.” “Ah, of Cydaria,”'"she echoed, with a little ‘smile. su i But a moment later:the full merriment of laughter broke out again on her face, and, drawing her hand away, she let me go, crying after me 1 “But you shall not forget, Simon. N. you shall not forget.” 2 Then I left her standing in the doorway of the inn daring mé‘to forget. And my brain seemed all whirling and swirling ds I walked down the lane. CHAPTER «VI. Ar Invitation i I spent the rest of-that day in my inn, agreeably to the advise of the surgeon, and the next morning, finding’ my wound heal- ing well and my body free from fever, I removed to Mr. Darrell’s new lodging by the temple, where the bad most civilly Placed two rooms at*my’ disposal. Here I also provided myself with a servant, a fellow named Jonah Wall,’ and prepared to go to Whitehall as the king's letter commanded me. Of Mr. Darrell I saw nothing. He went off before E came, hav- ing left for me with Robert, his servant, a message that he was much engaged with the secretary's business, and prayed to be excused from affording me his company. Yet I was saved from making my journey alene—g thing that would have occasioned me much trepidation—by the arrival of my Lord Quinton. The reverence of our tender years is hard to break down, and IL recefved my visitor with an uneasiness which was not decreased by the severity of hts questions concerning my doings. I made haste to tell him that I had deter- mined to resign the commission bestowed on me. These tidings so transformed his temper that he passed from cold reproof to an excess of cordiality, being pleased to praise highly a scruple as honorable as (he added with a skrug) it was rare, and he began to laugh at himself as he recount- ed humorously how his wrath against me had grown higher and higher with each thing that had come to his ears. Eager now to make amends he offered to go with me to Whitehall, proposing that we should ride in his coach to the mall, and walk thence together. I accepted his company mest gratefuly, since tt would save me Rear rerauInS, an ignorance of which I vas ashamed and strength for the task before me. eager gees Accordingly we set out, and as we went my lord took occasion to refer to my ac- quaintance with Mistress Nell, suggesting plainly enough, although not directly, that I should be wise to abandon her society at the same time that I lald down the com- mission she had obtained for me. I dia not question his judgment, but avoided giv- ing any promise to be guided by it. Per- ceiving that I was not willing to be pressed, he passed from the topic with a sigh, and began to discourse of the state of the king- dom. Had I paid more heed to what he said, I might have avoided certain trou- bles into which I fell afterward, but busy staring about me, I gave him only such at- tention as courtesy required, and not enough for a proper understanding of his uneasiness at the dealings of our court with the French King and the visit of the king’s sister, Mme. D’Orleans, of which the town was full. For my lord, although @ most royal gentleman, hated both the French and the Papists, and was much grieved at the king’s apparent inclination in their favor. So he talked, I nodding and assenting to all, but wondering when he would bid me wait on my lady and whether Mistress Barbara were glad that my Lord Carford’s sword had passed through my arm only and done no greater hurt. Thus we came to the mall, and having left the coach, set out to walk slowly, my lord having his arm,through mine. 1’ was very glad to be s¢en thus in his com- pany, for, although’ not so great a man porees at Hatchatéad, “hs reputation, and carried'/ himself with noble air. When. we ha gone some little way, being very comfortable with one an- other, and speaking now lighter matters, I perceived at some distange a party of gel tlemen, three in nu companied by a lfHe Woy, very richly lowed at a short inter- coh ete were fo) val by five or six ntlemen, amon; fninddiaters my friend med thep, that the secre- Fair Women of Bi You make the turn of the bois and stop at the dairy to take a glass of sherry. It is a little rustic chalet with a pleasant view. There are a few petites femmes here, who have come to find the cheris de leur coeur. These Belgian women seem, after the Viennese, the most completely beautiful in Europe. But, according to a Frenchman who enlightens me, they lack the unique chic of the dear little Parisiennes. He says: “Belgian women are very pretty in general, and superior to our Par- isiennes from the point of view of strict beauty. At every moment, on the streets, you run across women whose type is al- ways about the same, and might cnd by becoming monotonous; but it is of remark- zble beauty. In regard to complexion and form—to what might be called the great outlines—they deserve every vote. “Bui it-is in the art of serving up beauty that our Paristennes are without rivals. Here in Brussels the hair is too loud. The lingerie is too complicated and noisy. There is an excess in elegance, adornments and perfumes. The hands and feet are a little too massive. Shoulders are superb, but the figure is a little heavy. Eyes are beautiful, and the skin is rosy and fresh, but there should be a little more expression in the faces.” At 11:30 our young Belgian and his visit- ers mount thelr horses and start back for Brussels. From 12 to 3 is the lunch, usually at home, then a rest, and then a turn on business or for calls. From 3 to 5 they are again in the bots, elther on horseback or in i In summer the people unite where the music plays. This is the time for flirtations among people of the grand monde. then that—a string or He Fell on His Knees. plucked from the burning.” And before I could speak or attempt to hinder him he stepped swiftly across the pathway and en- tered the tavern. I, seeing nothing else that I could do, followed him straightway and as fast as I could. I was in a maze of feeling. The night before I had reasoned with myself and schooled my wayward passion to a resolve neither to see nor speak with her. Re- sentment at the shame she had brought on me aided by stubbornness, and helped me to forget that I had been shamed because she had remembered me. But now I followed Phineas Tate. For be memory ever so keen and clear, yes, though it seem able te bring every feature, every shade and every pose before a man’s eyes in absolute fidel- ity, yet how pour and weak a thing it is beside the vivid sight of bodily eyes; that paints the faded picture all afresh in hot and glowing colors, and the man who bade defiance ot the persuasions of his recol- lection, falls, beaten down by the fierce force of a present vision. I followed Phin- eas Tate, perhaps using some excuse with myself—indeed, I feared that he would at- tack rudely and be cruelly plain with her —yet knowing in my heart that I went be- cause I could do nothing else, and that when she called every atom of life in me answered to her summons. So I went, to find Phineas standing bolt upright in the parlor uf the tavern, turning the leaves of his book with eager fingers, as though he sought some text that was in his mind. I passed by him and leant against the wall by the window; so we awaited her, each of us eager, but with passions most unlike. She came, daintily dressed now, although still negligenily. She put her head round the corner of the door, radiant with smiles, and with no more shame or embarrassment than if our meeting in this way were the most ordinary thing. Then she caught sight of Phineas Tate and cried pouting, “But I wanted to be alone with my Simon, my dear Simon.” Phineas caught the cue her words gave him with perverse readtness. “Alone with him, yes,” he crieg. “But what of the time when you must be alone with God?” “Alas!” said she, coming in and seating herself at the table, “is there more still? Indeed, I thought you had said all your say outside. I am very wicked—let that end it.” He advanced to the table and stood di- rectly opposite to her, stretching his arm, toward her, while she sat with her chin on her hands watching with eyes half amused, half apprehensive. “You who live in open sin—" he began; most At Marchal's. From 5 to 6 Marchal’s Patisserie is in vogue among young men. It is a curious cakeshop. First, there is the shop proper, with two great counters. On one are cak; on the other is a prodigious number of glass Jars full of bonbons. In the rear there is a little room opening from one side of the shop and on the other side a sort of winter garden paved with colored tiles. It is ex- tremely smart and bright and gay. It is here, toward 6 9'clock, that the gilded ycuth and the youthful dames whom they gild, make their appearance. They eat and chatter and flirt. It is an elegant amuse- ment, more Parisian than Paris. After 6:30 our rich young Belgian may take a little glass at the Bodega and then lock in at his club. The “Bodega” is nomi- nally a Spanish wine shop, run by a big English company, and it has become a fe ture of every European capital by reason of the splendor of the fitting up and the strong character of the drink. Clubs are numerous in Brussels, beginning with the Cercle Noble, which is the most chic and exclusive, the club of the court. At 5 o'clock dinne: is eaten by the ele- gants. Among the ordinary people meals are oftenest taken in the German fashion— a heavy dinner toward 1 or 2 o'clock and the supper, relatively light, toward 8. It is only in the great world ‘that they have adopted French habits and hours. In the Wiertz Gallery, where the govern- ment has placed the works of that unbal- anced genius, horrors may be seen which baffle bad dreams in their dreadful fancy. Gothic architectures, civil and religious, may be studied in the churches and the Old Town Hall. The picture gallery may be haunted, the narrow streets may be ex- plored in the Old Town. But then the capi- tal of Belgium becomes like any other Eu ropean city, flat, flavorless and stupid aft a few days. STERLING HEILIG. THE CURSE Of mankind—contagivus Ulood poison-claimed as its victim Mr. Frank B. Martin, 926 Pennsylvenia avenue, Washington, D. C., and the usual physician's treatment did him not the slightest good. His condition -eachod that deplorable stage which only this terrible @isease can produce. ile GURE After all else failed, was at last found in 8. 8. S.—the greatest of all blood remedies. Eighteen bottles removed the disease px rm: nently, and left his skin without a blemish. “Let him go on, Simon,” said she. And go on he did, telling all—as I prayed, more than all—the truth, while she heard him patiently. Yet now and then she gave herself a little shake, as though to get rid of something that threatened to stick. ‘Then he fell on his knees and prayed fer- vently, she still sitting quiet and I stand- ing awkwardly near. He fintshed his prayer, and, rising again, looked earnestly at her. Her eyes met his in good nature, almost in friendliness.. He stretched out his hand to her again, saying: “Child, cannot you understand? Alas, your heart is hardened! I pray Christ our Lord to open your eyes and change your heart, that at the last your soul may be saved. Nelly examined the pink nails of her right hand with curious attention. “I don’t know that I'm more of a sinner than many others,” said she. “Go to court and preach, sir.’ A sudden fury seemed to come over him, and he lost the gentleness with which he had last addressed her. “The word shall be heard at the court,” he cried, “in louder accents than mine. Their cup is full, the measure of their iniquity 1s pressed down and running over. All who live shall see.” “Like enough,” said Nell, as though the matter were nm very tedious, and she yawned just a little, but, as she glanced at me, a merry ight gleamed in her eyes. “And what is to befall Simon here?’ she asked. He turned on me with a start, seeming to have forgotten my presence: “To this young man?” he asked, looking full into my face. “Why, his face is hon- est; if he choose his friends well, he may do well.’ “I am one of his friends,” said Nell, “and I defy any man on earth to have given the He to such a claim so made.” “And for you, may the Lord soften your heart,” said Phineas to her. “a @ say it’s too soft already,” said “You will see me again,” said he to her, and moved toward the door. But once more he faced me before he went, and looked very intently at me. Then he pass- ed out, leaving us alone. At his going Nell sighed for relief, Stretched out her arms and let them fali on the table in front of her; then she sprang up and ran to me, catching hold of my hand. ry “and how goes all at pretty Hatch- T Srese maser age releasing my hands from hers, and I spoke to her stiffly. “Madame,” said I, * 1s not Hatch- There are two ti whom I recognized Darrell Tt see their assem- They go alone or with a companion or The auditorium of La Monnaie is pretty. The height of the balcony and the boxes above the parquet give it a peculiar ele- gance. As to the orchesira, its value is known. Only opera is given; and it is no- torious that in its recognition cf new art- foc eee ing. wit Interest that I came near forgetting to te- move my hat. he seemed to ob- serve us. He smiled, - beckoned with his hand to my lord, who went forward es leaving 5 E you seem very like the gentle- man I knew, and knew well a il, there,” she FATE Tue ry ; § i