The Lady Of Larose

Not many years ngo the gay world óf Paris was exeited by a strange añd ronantie alïair. Emilie Lamont, a young ady -with a splciidid torture, and highly iccomplished in niind and manners, announced to the world that sho would bestow her hand and fortune upon any gentleman who pleased her, but that he must be willing, in consideration of her wealtt and other attractionn, to put np ■with a face of unparalleled ugliness. A certain time each day was appointed to reeeive the suitors at Larose, Mademoiselle's beautiful residenee in the vicinity of Paris. Among the first who responded to the siügular announcement was Sir Charles Washington, a young Englishman of uoble iamily, who had aquandcred rincely fortune in the garning-house of the dissipated capital of Éranos, H eagerly seized upon the opportunity t nend his broken fortunes, and t estabish himself again in the world of pleasïre. Dashington was possessed of that eauty of form and face which attracts he gaze of artists and wins the love of ivomen. His self-conceit led him to ouppose that no woman could resist him; nd he thought it only necessary to preent himself before the Lady of Larose n order to win her hand, and, what he vahied more, her fortune. "With this object in view he attired himself in a magniflcent suit of clothes, hired a carriage, and proceeded in dashing stylo in earch of wealth and a wife. It was a delicious day in June, and the gardens and grounds of Larose presented i scene of ravishing beauty to fitte1 eyee af Sir Charles Dashington, who looked upon himself as soon to be " monarch of ül he surveyed. " After a drive of r, [uarter of an hour through winding oads, bordered with sweet and brilliant lowers, and through shady and cool groves, the superb villa of Larose burst ipon his enraptured sight. As he drove lp he was met by a servant in handsome ivery, who conducted him tlirough an elegant marble gallery into the spacious eception-room. The matchlesR splendor of tliis ajiartment dazzled the eyes of 8ir Charles Washington. The floor was composed of exquisite mosaics, wrought into quaint and curious patterns; the walls were jeautifully frescoed after the mannor of iaphael; before the crimson-tinted windows hung purple silk curtains, which rembled in the vibration of low, melancholy music, whose origin could not be liscovered; tables of pearl and agate wc're placed in different parts of the room, some of them loaded with richlyound books, and others having on them jorgeous vases of ñowers, whose odor crvaled the whole apartment. In one corner stood a massivo cabinetcontaining curiosities, and surmounted with busts of celebrated authors, among whom the ïnglishman was pleased to see Shakspeare crowned with immortelles. While he was admiring the splendid saloon, a door glided softly back, and 3milie was announced. Dashington rose and advanced to meet the person who entered. He was prepared to see a face ugly, indeed, but when his eyeg feil upon he frightful features of the lady he shrank back with an exclamation of horror. Her lips were withcred and bloodess; her eyes were sunk deep in their sockets; her large and misshapen nose was a revolting object; and her skin was as dry and yellow as an Egyptian niummy. Without appearing to notice Dashingn's embarrassment, Emilie welcomed ïim to Larose in a few sweetly-spoken words; and, to his surprise, she spoke in English, with a slight but charming accent; for among many accompli shments of this singular creatiire wae a perfect knowledge of the modern ïanguages. 3ir Charles was somewhat reassured by lier kind welcome and winning voice; and he succeeded in overeoming, or at least concealing, the disgust which the . horrible ugliness of her face first occasioned. After a long preliminnry conversation he ventured te approach the subject which had brought him to Larose. "Mademoiselle," he said, with a bow, "if I did not know that the Garden oi' Eden was in Asia, I should think that I had found it to-day in your delicious retreat." "Sir Charles Dashington is pleased to natter my poor Larose. " " MJulèmoiselle, it is no flnttery; the beauty and splendor of your grouuds far surpass all my expectations. Oh, how dream-like my life would be, passed in this lovely spot ! With a congenial companion to share its sweets, this place would be a paradise on earth." "What do you menu by a congenial companion?" Emilie asked. "One who possesses an appreciating love of nature; one who ftnds a greater delight in books than in balls; one who prefera meditation and study to the frivolities of mcxlern society." .;, mi "You sjiy nothiiig of beauty; i not that a requisita?" demnnded Emilie, who saw the serpent lurking lenoath his flowery language. "Give me the lastiug beauties of the niind, and I care not for the fading beouties of a pretty face," cried Dashffifgton. Soon after this interview terminated, and Sir Charles rose to depart. Emilio told liim he should heíir from her in a " l símil érpect yonr communication with impaticnce," Baid Dashington, bowing himselí fi-om t'io room. As he erosscd the long gallory to rcacli Iiíb earriage he rnuttojred, in a. siifficiently loud tone to be overheard by a scrvant who had kept close hohind him : "Whnt a monster! But for the gold that giMs her hideous face, I never oonld have gone throngh the interview. But her manners are easy and elegant, and her voice- -how can such sweot sounds proeeed from such repulsive lipa?" Th ose remarks were duly reported to Emilio Lamont, and they were not likely to advanee Sir Charles Dashington's suit. Inquines were instituted about his hamts nncT prospecta, Rnd nothing very favorable to that gentleman was elicited. The consequence was that one evening, as Pashington was preparing to go to one; of his acoustonied haunts of vice, the í'ollowing note was placed in his hand : : " Maïlemoiselle Emilie Lamont begs leave to say to Sir Charles Dashington thafche nccd not take the trouble to repeat his visit to Laroee. " .This uncxpected termination of his snit destroyed all Dashington's hopes oí' retrieving his position, and to "avoid the wrath that was to come " from tailoís, shoemakers and other creditors, he Üed from Paris to Baden, where he soon afterwflrd lost his life in a gambling quarrel with a Kussian nobleman. The novel announcement of Emilie Lamont continued to attract many persons to Larose. All admired the beautiful gronnds and magnificcnt reception rooDlj but, when Emilie appeared, her i'riglitful face drove tlicm away in disgust. Ajt .last Víctor St. Anbyn, a poor bnt aocomplished youth, ventured to advance his claims. He was of nn oíd, respectable family, which had bccomc impoverished during the stormy days oí the French Bevolution. At 20 Victor went to Paris to begin the battle of life. Like Alexander the Great, when he set out to conqner the world, he took nothing but hope ; the Grecian hero depended for auccess on his sword - Víctor relied on his peu. He was a graoeful and elegant writer ; but, poor and friendless, his success was not equal to his genius ; he was obliged to write for bread, not fame. Vietor was not disconraged by his want of snecess. He was persnaded that the dark clouds which hovered over liim would at last be dispelled, and that the world would acknowledge his merit. Young St. Aubyn's dreary existence was sometimes bnghtened by delightful dreams. V_ I In these exquisite moments his disappointment was forgotten, and his cheerless chamber was changed as by niagic. He saw before him galleries of liglit, airy beauty, uiiea nuj j.mriy uuiuu, who crowned him with amaranthine wreaths as he approached. One morning, while Víctor was dreaming a gorgeous dream like this, the etlierial fabric was suddenly demolished by a gentleman coming in and exclainung, "Víctor, would you like to chango this poor room for a charming retreat near Paris, a beautiful villa in the midst of Bunny groves and blooming gardens ?" "Certainly a most dcsirable exehniige, my dcar Eugene ! But how is it to be done?" " By marrying Emilie Lamont." " xVnd, pray, who is Emilie liamont ?" "Who is Emilie Lamont? Why, all Paris is ringing with her name." " The sound has not ascended so high as my room. Teil me, about her. " Emilie Lamont, better known as the Lady of Larose, laas anuounced that she will accept the addresses of any gentleman who ulcases bcr, and bestow on him lier hand and fortune, if he can be satisfied with au inconceivably ugly face. Many have visited her, but only one j gentleman s yet has mustered up sufticient coTirage to pop the question." " Really, Eugeno, this is a most singular and interesting affair. I am tempted to visit the Lady of Larose, merely out of curiosity." "Do so, Vietor; perhaps something may ooffie of it. Good-1 y. " A few days after this eonversation Vicfcor put on tlie best suit of clothes that liis wardrobe contained, and proceeded to visit the Lady of Larose. He did not go at once to the house, but waudered bout the grounds dclighted with the beauty of the scène. A new surprise met him at every turn. in one place he carne to a little rivulet running through the grassy turf, which was gemmed with t tiiousand flowers. Here he carne aexÓBS a grotto, whose cool ríHesses wooed him to enter. In another place he saw a fountain of water sparkling in the sunlight. He reached the flowery eminence, which was adorned with a pavilion so delicately constructed that it might have been the work of f airy hands. Around and about the spot gorgeous pbeasants and stately peacocks walked with pompous steps. At last his oyes rested npon the crowning glory of the scène - the superb villa of Larose. Victor advanced with hesitating steps to tlie magnificent poreh, where ho was met by a servant, who politely invited him to walk into the house. Entering the saloon the poor young man was iimnzed at the splendid display. He began to repent of his presumption in daring to offer himself así a suitor to be the possoHSor of so much wealth ; he dreaded to meet the Lady of Larose, and a thoüsand times wished himself back in his poor chamber. While occupied with the thought, the door opened, and Emilie Lamont entered. Victor arose nnd bowed as she came forward, without raising his eyes to her face. With a voice sweet as angels when welcoming souls to Elysian bliss she addressed him, and on the subject which is always interesting to every man- himself. " May I ask whether you are Monsieur St. Aubyn, the poet ?" "I do not know, Mademoiselle, whetlier I deserve the name of poet, but I plead guilty to publishing a volume of verse a year ago, which brouglit me but little fame and less money." " Your leautiful book sliould have secured you both." "Am I to uuderstand tliat Madomoiselle Lamont has read my little book ?" "I have read and admired it over and over agaiñ, and if all the world were like me your book would have made, you famons.'' "If all the world werc like you this world would be a paradise," -ried Victor, overjoyed to hear liia nftglected book praised. '■Lcok at me, Monsieur Ht. Aubyn ; is paradise composed of such '!" Victor raised his oyes to her fa-ee. Those lips were indeed hideous, but from them camo words of praise aud cn■couragement to cheer hmi onward in Lis efforts to reacli Fame's prond temple. Those cheeks were pale and yellow, but perhaps they hadglowed with enthusiasm over his poetry. " If yon will excuse me, Mademoiselle, I will say tlmt the houris are not quite so plain " " Dou't minee matters, Monsieur St. Aubyn - my glass tells the truth, and I want you to do the same." " But, Mademoisellc, it is not customary lor gentlemen to speak so plainly to ladies about their personal appearanee." " Monsieur Victor St. Aubyn, I want yon to understand, once for all, that Emilie Laniont is not like other women. Therefore, do not hesitate to say what you think of me." " Well, then, if you insist on it, I can only say you are bitter ugly." "Bitter ugly! I like that; that is refreshing- - bitter ugly - very good !" ciied Emilie, with a laugh as sweet and musical as a silver bell. " I am glad my plain language )ias not offended you. It is certainly venturing upon dangerous ground to 'teil a lady that she is ugly." " Yon must remember tliat I aiii not like other women." Emilie rang the bell and ordered the servant to have everything arranged in the blue room. " You have a harp, Mademoiselle; do you play and sing ?" asked Victor, drawing her attention to a superb instrument in one corner of the room. "Sometimes to while away a weary hour. " " Will you favor me with some music ?" he asked, handing her the harp. "With pleasure," lightly touching the. strings, and eliciting strains that might have come from the inspired üngers of St. Cecclia. Victor was deéply affected, and, wlien the last sad notes had died away, he S:iid: " Mademoiselle, I thank you on my knees for your sweet kindness in singing that and calling it your favorite." As he spoke a door in the lower end of the room glided back, displaying an inner apartment arranged for a repast. "Monsieur, will you partakc of some fruit which is served in the next room?" "Thank you," said Victor, rising and offering Emilie his arm to escort her to the the next apartment. "Monsieur," said Mademoiselle Lamont, as they sat down to a tempting array of delicacies, " Monsieur, I wish you to see what I can produce. All the fruit of the table came from rny garden." "They are like everything else here - delightful," said Victor, tasting a luscious peacli. ' ' Indeed, I can hardly believe that all I have seen to-day is real and substantial. Walking through your splendid grounds I could have imagined myself in the garden of Hesperides. Seated in yon gorgeous saloon, I conld hardly help fancying that I saw au enchanting visión which would soon dissolve, leaving me nothing but the dull iviolifins of lifp. " " You poets are like that etherea! bird, the huma, which never touches the ground ; you are always flying in the air, and dislike touching this poor earth of otirs." ' ' Had I the wings of an angel I could not fly to a more delightful abode than I have found to-day, nor receive a more gratifying welcome than that which you have so kindly given me." Victor returned to his books and studies from his visit to Larose with a feeling of satisfaction to which he had long been a stranger. His prospects looked brighter. He had secured a powerful friend in the Lady of Larose. Her kindness to him had touched his tender heart, and it seemed as natural for her to be agreeable as it is for the flowers to bloom and the birds to sing. Emilie had invited Victor to visit Larose by moonlight. He did so one bcautiful evening. They strolled about the lovely grounds. líe told her of his struggles, of his golden aspirations, and of his disappointments. She consoled him with sweet and gentle words, and she poiuted to the future and assured him that his hopes would be realized. Victor feit the influence of that delicious voice, and in that soft hour he knelt at her feet and told her that he loved her. To shorten the story, the day appointed for the wedding arrived. Everything was ready. Victor, handsonie and expectant, advanced to meet the brido, when a lovely girl of 19, with a face and form that might have served as a model for Apodes when he painted his exquisïte picture of Venus, camo forward aud took the hand of the future husband. This beautiful being was none other than the Lady of Larose, who had so long excited the curiosity of Paris, her ravishing beauty being concealed by a frightful and ingeniously-constructed mask. Her object in veiling those chiirming features from the gaze of the world was to secure a partner who would not marry her for the accidental ulvantago of wealth and beauty alone, but for her own intrüiNic worth. She obtained sucli a partner in Victor St. Aubyn.