The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 25, 1906, Page 6

TTHRE AT ® creatu: better worse & room which the my tiec It is to bé serve What time doe: murmured ally press drew The distin- crushed and the pri- ular stair- decorated Francis 1, the eautifui r hand e « said the manager ly girl, “of seeing through Where ‘ghould we apply e » do 507 n_js required,” replied shall be pleused {o con- Be %0 good as to follow me.” 1 preceded them up tihe wind- when her footsteps were commanding _tones of rwe ested by the 2, Clement's voice. 1J ri!” she cried. “1 have no o explore the various nooks and of this wretched chatéaw I to take us at oncg to the which Henri, le_Balafre, Duc was assassinated. We have to spare, and I bid ybu make desire you rooms paused and looked over her down upon them with a action that would have done edit to the great actress herself. t will have the patience follow Clement, 1_shall lead you di- apartments.” Mme Ah,” cried the ancient manager, "we are known, it seems, even in Blois.” cried the actress with great scor “I am kno much - farther afield, 1 trust, than this stupid = little provincial town le: They entered a Lead on, girl, and let tter.” large and lofty apart- s ch, have ment he farther end of which was al lace. Here,” said the beautiful girl, in- a g ‘the mantelplece, “Henri of Guise stood on the morning of Friday, December 23, 1588. . Outside the rain was pouring, 2nd the day was bitterly cold. In different parts of the room were members of the King's Council and numerous courtiers, for the -hour was 6 in the morning and no word had vet come from the King, whose bed- the.room adjoming, and that door to my left. The cloak gnd sword lay on the ered by Duke's hat was table. A essenger entered from the King's apartinent, and——" “In God's name, hussy,” cried Madame Clement, “‘are you going to have the im- pudence to recite to us the history of France? Did you' not hear my order? Show us quickly through the.rooms.” The girl drew hersglf up with ‘offended dignity, but made no reply. Her words had been commeonplace enough, but her enunciation ‘was" so, perfeet and her few gestures so superb, that the effect of such finished acting on. a company, of actors had been instantaneous, “I beg vour pardon, Madame,” tured young Gerard, hie face “but we have ample’ time, emoiselle has interested me so much in the beginning of the story, -that. I confess, T should like to hear it through to the end.” . The unfortunate father of the over-bold voung man gazed at him in mute, amazed beseechment, and the great. tragedienne turned upon him like an enraged. tigress ven- flushing, and Mad- “How dare you?l’ she dried. “Oh, Adolph, Adelph;” pleaded = the father, “apologize to Madame. You do not think what you.are saying, my son.“ “I willipngly opologize to Madame,” Te- plied young Gerard, “if I have said any- thing to give her offense. 1 merely wish- ed to suggest that it is somewhat futile to come two hundred kilometers from Pacts {o rusn through these rooms as if we Were riders at the Hippodrome.” An expression of agony came upon the face of his downtrodden father as he saw the effect of his son's words upon the actress. What that thoroughly angered woman might have sald never will be known, fof the girl, already at the door leading out of the guard’s hall, spoke in a tone of calm and cutting clarity: “Will you be so condescending as to follow me into the king’s chamber? My time is limited, and I can give only certaif amount of it to those who pass through these rooms. If you wish to engage in orivate discussions you can do so in the courtyard below, where doubtless other visitors are now waiting for me.” Mme. Clement was so thunderstruck at the girl's audacity that for a moment she was speechless, and before she had col- lected her wits the whole party was in the smaller room on the ‘north front of the chateau, where King Henry III had slept. They were all deeply agitated, but pretended not to be so. They gazed about the room and through the windows at the street below, while their conduc- tor stood silent like an offended god- dess, and was about to precede them, without speaking, Into the third room when Mmie. Clement addressed her in a voice trembling. with anger...... > “What happened ‘in- this room?’ ‘she cried. "l would have you understand that we are net here to be the victims of your rural sulkiness. son, parrot.” + “Madame,” replied the girl, “in . the guard’'s room I spoke, and you rudely Say your les- commanded me to be silent. In the King's chamber T am ‘silent,” and you rudely commanded me “to - speak. Madame, I find some difficulty in pleas- ing you.” : ds “You-impudent. jade, how dare you so address yourself to.me? Apparently ‘you know * to ‘whom ’ you spéak; therefore speak- respcctfully.” WOULD WYOU" DO ME THE MHoNO TO THE ROOM 1IN WHICHR THE puc WAS ASSASSINATED? “Respect, madame,” said the girl, “al- ways commands respect. On'the walls of. this bu..uing are graven: the words, ‘Lib- erty, Hquality, Fraternity® I considércd you my equal, madamé, untilyour:lan- guage and ‘your mannef to me too clear- 1y vroclaimed you my: inferior; I cannot, regard you with feelings of and 1 exercise my liberty in saying to you that if you do not treat me with civility T will lock: the doors upon you and refuse to conduct you further.” “You vixen!” cried the actress,” “I'shall see friends of mine in the Government and have such a custodian as you are turned out into the streets, where you doubtless belong.” Yax The girl laughdd in rippling. tones, rich and melodious. “There,” she said, pointing to a spot near the wall, “the Duc de Guise fell and died, having fought his way, covered with forty wounds, from the third room. be- yond. We now enter the adjoining chapel, where -prayers were, being said for the success ‘of ‘the crime.” © To (he great relief of the old manager there' were mo further hostilities until the - party founda itself again in the courtyard. The manager, with a sigh of comfort, of- fered thelr conductor a plece of gold. ““Stop!” cried Mme: Clement. *You'shall pay her exactly” what the law allows, and nothing more. One franc for each person.” “‘Madame is right,” replied the girl. “I will give you the change, monsieur; I have it here in my pocket.” The ‘old man held out-his hand, and she counted the silver pieces into it. “That {s a franc too mnich, mademois- elle,” said the manager. “I refuse to accept a franc for Mme. Clement. She has journeyed through the .chateau as my guest, and I should like you to know, madame, that all your in- terest with the Government will not en- able you ‘in the least to injure me. I am a Parisian, ‘like yourself, at Blois for a shert holiday. The old man who is cus- todian. of ‘the chateau knows nothing of my. presence “here, for he is bedridden “through honorable wounds received in the service of his country; it is his wife and daughter who usually’' conduct visitors through the chateau. I have taken their place to-day because they are absent at Sguvre, where the wife's sister is ill. You < may perhaps have power to injure this poor family, but I warn you that if you do 1 have:'a brothér on the stafft of a leading Paris journal to whom I shall tell every word that has been ‘spoken, and you, Mme. Clement, will wake one fine. morning. to find all Paris laughing at you and commenting on your bad man- ners.!”” . Before any reply could be made the R TO CONPUCT DE GUISE ME girl, with a low bow, turned and fled rapidly up the stairs. It was a somber and silent proces- sion that walked to the railway sta- tion and entered the waiting car. The “Rapide” had not yet come in from the west. Father and son walked together up and down the platform and the old man was in a state of the deepest de- Jection. “Oh, Adolph, Adolp! he cried. “There will bé much to pay for this day's work. What are we to do? Oh, what are we to do?’ “There is plenty of time,” replied the young man soothingly. “Durand’s play cannot possibly come on for two months yet and the madame cannot break her contract with you until the run of the ‘Princess Diaboline’ ends. If she cuts up rough about the ‘Duc de Guise’ you can keep the ‘Princess’ running and hold the madame to her contract.” “It is easy enough to say that, Adolph, but you forget that I also am under contract to - produce Durand’s tragedy.” “Nothing can be easier.,” replied Adolph’ jauntily. “There is the The- ater Apollon vacant. ‘I should take that if I were you, and so bring out Durand’s play.” 3 “But, my dear son,” objected the old man, “there isn’t a woman in my com- pany except the madame who can take the part of Catherine.” “Don’t trouble about that, replied the son. “I have an actress father,” in my eye for tne parr, wiao will burst upon Paris with all y of a skyrocket.” “tjood neavens™ cried t cagerly. "Who is s know her?” “You may have seen her, but I doubt if you know her.” As he spoke the “Rapide” came thun- dering in, and the old man d to- ward the pri le car “Oh, Adolph,” he besee ‘you will apologize -to ber, my boy, for my sake? And don't mind anything ays. “f have a better plan than that, fath- er,” said Adolph. i will 5o on to Paris by a later train. You see, I am not the cast, and it won't matter. You speak soothingly to the madam, as is n vur custom, and throw all the blame my shoulders.” Adolph Gerard saw the “Rapide” dis- appear; then, with a laugh, he turned and walked again to the chateau. The girl with the keys looked up as he ap- proached the foot of the grand stairway, and she smiled without evincing surprise at seeing him. ‘Mademoiselle,” said Adolph, raising his hat with the utmost courtesy, “would you do me the honor to conduct me te the room in which the Duc de Guise assassinated?” fl “With pleasure, monsieur,” replied the girl, with a graceful Inclination. “The charge will be one franc,” and her merry laugh echoed in the old courtyard. “Mademoiselle, I assure you the pleas- ure of accompanying you would be cheap at a thousand.” “Qh, it is quite piain,” she said to him over her shoulder, as she lightly mounted the stair, “that I have at last engaged in my proper avocation. If thers were many tourists so generous as you are, I might soon buy the castle itself from the Gov- ernment.” They were now in the guard's hall “Ye: he said, ‘if Madame Clement di4 not use her influence to dispossess you.™ “What a dreadful woman!” cried the girl, with something almost resembling a shudder. “And to think that up to this day I have worshiped her from afar.” “She is a beast,” said Adolph, with con- viction. ut a great actress,” sighed the girl “You have seen her on the stage, then?" “Oh, often, and always nearly cried my eyes out.” “That did not interfere with their flash- ing fire to-day. I never saw anything more magnificent,” cried the enthusiastia young man, looking the admiration he felt. The girl veiled the brilllants under dis- cussion. “The elderly gentleman is your father, is he not, and manager of the Theater Tragique? T have often heard of N but never saw himi before. I did not gthink so distinguished a man 8o cowed browbeaten by “Alas,” replied the young man with a sigh, are all the victims of some woman, if not iIn one way. then in an other. My name,” 1 o Adolph Gerard. May ness cf learning yours, “Pauline Ducharme, 1ooking up at him sleur Gerard, that anclent history, and not thing so modern as my name.” “It need not remain undistinguist he cried, with enthusiasm. “I am you are an actress.” “My friends have flattered me by call ing me so. I had a small part at Theatre Apollon. Monsieur Gerard, 1 shall be perfectly frank with you. This morning a white dove with a leaf in its beak alighted for a moment on my window-sill. I had been praying to my saint for success, and when I saw the bird I knew that my chance would come to-day. A dove brought back a branch to the ark to show that the waters had abated. When I saw Madame Clement this morning my heart leaped with joy and T sald to myself, my chance is com- ing from the hands of a woman I have adored ever since I was a little girl But when vou spoke, monsieur, I knew it was to come through you. I was walting for you at the foot of the stalr when you returned.” “I had hoped,” said the young man, in @ plaintive tone, “that your desire to see me return might be partly personal. as well as theatrical.” The girl laughed brightly and Tookeih frankly into his eager eyes. “If that were true,” she said, “you would not ex- pect me to confess it. Therefore let us leave the personal element to take care of itself. I know you are an actor, for I have seen you play. You have youz foot on the boards, and the whole world lies before you. I want you to extend a Hand to me, and help me to & position on the stage. If I cannot maintain it, then let me sink: all I want is my chance.” As the girl said this she seemed te grow in stature, tall as she was. Her voice rang with a confidence that con- firmed the young man's opinion of her histrionic abilities. “You shall have your chance,” he cried. “Durand has written a great play called ‘The Duc de Guise.” He has taken some liberties with history and Catherine, the queen, is the heroine. Mme. Clement bas been blowing hot and cold for months past, driving ‘ae dramatic author to the verge of dis- traction. Several times we have come to a deadlock, the madame wishing mére lines put in or others changed, and Durand obstinately inflexible, as he has every right to be, and my péor father the bu between them. I am tired of madame’s attitude. Durand has fled to .he country, and no one knows whare he s. Yesterday madame was all for the play, nothing would do but my father must get a private car to bring her and part of the company to Blois. Now I feel it in my heart that the madame Is to make the n»v.ufl‘ “But to lea undistin, outburst and revoit to-day. She hasn't changed her mind for twenty-four hours, so a revolution is due. . You live in Blois, mademoiselle; may I venture to ask your address? “I live with my fathe 16 Rue de Tours.” “Very. well,” said Adolph. noting down the number and street. “1 will go tp Paris at once, and if _things are as I hove to find them I shall briefly console my fath- er, then return here. bringing with me a copy of the play. Old Du Figaro wherever he is, so advertisement in that paper alone will understand. When com- municates with me I shajl induce him to come to Blels and coach you in your part. *“But may not Monsieur Durana object to so unknown a person as I taking the leading part in his great play?” “Object! Oh, no! How little you under- stand the conceit of the successful dra- matic author: it quite equals that of Mme. Clement herself. Durand fully be- ileves his play would be a success If it were acted by chimney sweeps. And now adieu, mademoiselle. 1 must return by slow train to Paris.” So well did Mademoiselle Ducharms ena<t the love scenes of the drama with Monsieur Adolph Gerard, that they seemed to have carried their respect! parts into private life, for the same jo pals have related that they began their ‘wedding journey at Tours.