Always Beautiful

On the banks of the Orge, bnt a shor distance from Belles-Fontaines, can b geen an elegant little chateau of modern construction, roofed with slata Stand ing on the hillside, in the midst o grassy lawns and surrounded by low trees, the house attracts the attention of the few rowers who from time to time descend the Orge to Juvisy. Occa sionally a flsherman in search of a gooc place to throw his hook has perceivec on the heighta above a woman, her face covered with a thick veil, and a young man who walked slowly beside her leaning on her arm. At the slightes soumi of au oar both disappearec around the beud of a path or behind a clump of shrubs. The people of Juvis; had vainly employed every effort to penétrate the mystery. After having exhausted all imagina ble suppositious the innkeeper and the grocer of Juvisy had decided that the young man was a maniac, whoin his family had imprisoned in that property, bounded by a high wall on the side to ward the road and by a river on that toward the fields. As for the woman, she was a relative or a hireling, and when a painter, returning from Belles-Fontaines, asked who was the owner 01 that sheltered, mysterious lookiug park, without the slightest hesitation they replied, "It is a madman who lives there. " On July 10, 1884, during one of those periods of heat which Senegambia envíes us the Viscount de Montbrun left his small hotel in the Rue Varnet at 9 in the morning and walked down the Champs Elysees. M. de Montbrun was one of those Parisians who never leave Paris. "The sea, " said he, "was made for fishermen and sailors. It has its beauties of course, but it is agreeable ouly one hour each day. As soon as it begins to ebb it uncovers a lot of lential mud, compared with which our great sewer is a bottle of cologne. As for the country, it is ahvays just as hot there as iu Paris, with this difference - you never know what to do with your evenings there. " On all sides he saw hacks loaded with trunks. The preparations for the approaching 14th of July festivities saddened his heart, for the true Parisiau is the invetérate enemy of public holidays and of all manifestations which disturb his repose. ' ' Where can I take refuge for three days?" thought M. de Montbrun. The year previous he had gone to St. Germain, and they had made just as much racket and shot off quite as many boinbs there as at Paris. Montbrun then remembered that he had promised himself an excursión into Brittany before the piek of the demolisher had fiuished transforming that old corner of his oountry. To see again Vitre Fougeres, pass a day at St. Malo and then return would be just the thing. He would thus avoid the crowd and noise. On the morrow Montbrun arrived at Vitre. It was Saturday evening. In provincial towns to fairly judge the beauty of their women it is necessary to take one's post on Sunday at the door of a church. That is why Montbrun stood as early as 8 in the morning before the splendid ediflee dedicated to St Martin waiting for mass to be over. Before leaving Paris he had thrown into a postbox a few words addressed to Mlle. Paula Salimberi, an artistic dancer at the Eden theater. Paula was a superb girl, a native of southern Italy, with all the ardor of that clime beaming from her large, dark eyes. She had made her debut at Naples, and after a season at the Italian theater at Nice had displayed to the Parisians her irreproachable shape and varied graces. Montbrun was then 28 years of age, a handsome man, well versed in theatrical doings, whose personal charms were augmented by an iucome of 60,000 francs a year. His admiration for the charming ballet dancer was at once reoiprocated, and they were soon launched upon the waves of a desperate flirtation. But the young man's fancy was short lived. It was not long before the shallow attractions of the Italian beauty oeased to please him, and he longed to escape from her altogether. But Othello's jealousy was puerile compared to hers. Montbrun was fairly afraid of her. He dared not teil her ontright what the gradual decline of his attentions portended. He had simply dropped a note to her upon his departure for Vitre bidding her a long f arewell and intimatmg that he might never see her again. As she believed that he had no means of procuring his address, he thought himself now well out of her way. Mass was over, and people were beginning to come out of the church. Suddenly Montbrun was seized with admiration. Amid the crowd he had oaught sight of the face of a young girl. Never in his most ardent dreams had he imagined aught so lovely as that face, With its ideal lines. its more than ly beauty- beauty so calm, so serene, bo radiantly pure that it seemed that of one of God's angels. He wondered if it were possible that such a creature exist; ed. Ho held hia breath as he gazed on her descending the church steps, siniling. at an older woman who accompanied her, her mother doubtless. Instinctively Montbrun followed them from afar and saw them enter a small house of modest appearanoe. Taking the munter, he returned to the hotel and asked for information. "That beautiful girl? Mlle. de Larade Her father was an excellent man. His tamily were rich before the revulution, but each succeeding generation had sold off little by little land and fields and woods to keep up their rank. Finally poor M. de Larade had taken refuge in a small building formerly ocsupied by his intendant There he lived, as best he could, with his wife, nee Laroche-Glaieul, and his daughtcr Jeanne. He had probably not more than 1,200 or 1,500 francs income, but the ladies knew how to live on very little, while he, poor gentleman, had even given up taking snuff . ' ' The viscount wrote to his notary at Paris, requesting him to at once send him a letter of introduction to a notary of Vitre and to apprise that gentleman that he, Montbrun, carne of a good family, had the reputation of being a man of honor and was not without fortune, after which the notary of Vitre would effect his acquaintance with a family wherein he hoped to flnd happiness. Everything happened as the viscount had arranged. He was presented to Mlle. Jeanne de Larade, found her all he thought, carne again and again to her home and was finally accepted as her future husband upon certain oonditions. Montbrun promised everything they wished. He was in an ecstasy of bliss during the few weeks which preceded the day flxed for his marriage. In the midst of his dreaming he received through his notary - he had carefully concealed his address from all others - a letter from one of his friends, who wrote him that Paula Salimberi was seeking him in every direction and utteriug direful threats. At length the e ven tf ui day arrived. The contract had been signed. Two friends of Montbrun had come from Paris to serve him as witnesses, and on the lOth of September, at 11 in the morning, the guests left in carriages for the mayor's office. The viscount and two or three persons were speaking with a functionary at that office when they were startled by a piercing scream, followed by a long clamor of voices. Bushing to the Windows, they saw a hurrying crowd, amid which a small group were massed about a recumbent form. "What has happened?" exclaimed Montbrun, almost suffocated by apprebension. "An unknown woman has thrown vi triol in the face of Mlle. de Larade. All one side of the poor child's face is badly burned and an eye destroyed. They are carrying her to her home. ' ' Montbrun feil, rigid and unconscious, to the floor. He tried vainly during the day to be received at the home of is betrothed. "Teil him that he will never see me again!" she cried, shedding tears that, rolling over her raw woonds, burned her like flre. The suffering of M. de Montbrun was intense. Consumed with fever, bis heart seemed pressed in a vise. . A little later a small package was delivered to him. The unknown woman, arrestad immediately after the perpetration of her crime, stated that her name was Paula Salimberi; her motive, vengeance. Montbrun shut himself in his bedroom and opened his parcel, which contained a small quantity of white powder. Folding a handkerchief into a bandage, he measured out two spoonfuls of the powder and spread it on the bandage, which he then placed over his eyes, tying it in a flrm knot at the back of his head. Two hours after he arrived at the home of M. de Larade in a coupe, f rom which the notary of Vitre helped him to descend. '■'Do not come in, " said Mme. de Larade. "It would kill Jeanne. " "Teil her that she may receive me uow, " replied M. de Montbrun. "We hall be married as soon as she is able o leave the house. For me, her image will remaiu eternally what it was - I im blind." M. and Mme. de Moutbrun lead a re;ired life in their chateau at Juvisy. eanne adores the husband who for her enounced forever the sight of sky and fields and flowers. As for the blind man, he has kept intact the picture of n ideal maiden smilingly descending ;he steps of the Church of St. Martin. ïe is happy, for in the unending night o which he has condemned himself he ees her always young, always