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The Nihilist

The Nihilist image
Parent Issue
Day
20
Month
March
Year
1891
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Some time before the tragic death ol the late czar one of the most important raen in the empire wiis Prince Michel, but reasons of state will not permit the dosignation of his illustrious famiïy name. During a sojourn in Paris, just aftei the war. he met at one of the receptious, of the Princesa Lisa General de Contremont's eharuiing daughter, whom the Parisian world, just arising f rom its ashes, knew under the naine of "the beautiful Madeleine." '.:ho was also as poor as she was beautiful. Michel was smitten in spite of his forty years and his long formed resolution of celibacy. For f teen years he had withstood the blandishinents of designing young ladies and the maneuvers of their aristocratie inanimas, who had thrown themselves, so to speak, at his head as bouquets of roses and lilies are thrown over the footlights at a favorite diva. üne evening Madeleine said to the widow of the hero of Gravelotte, "Mother, would yon be satisfied by my becoming a princess?" "No, indeed, my daughter, for you were born beautiful enough to become a queen."' In fact, in the most select assenibly such a perfect type of womanhood was seldom seen. I saw this superb creature at the opera one evening shortly af ter her inarriage, and I will wager that there were fifty young men in the orchestra who were more or less in love with her through the whole gamut of love, from respectful admiration to the grand passion. You can imagine how they listened to the inusic; it might as well have been from the score of "Mireille" as from the "Huguenots," and they would have been none the wiser. This was probably the most memorable evening in the young life of Madeline, for she feit herself aveuged in the eyes of the men who would now gladly impoverish themselves for one hour of her favor, but who had formerly considered her too poor to be the object of theirs. Froin her proud elevation, though scarcely seeming to smile, in the depths of her being.she vibrated from head to foot with the exultation of triumph, and her cold brilliance radiated their admiration as diamonds radiate light. She saw in the elegan audience many beautiful women, but she feit herself to be the most beautiful woman there. On this particular evening an American lady in one of the boxes, many tdmes a millionaire, but not pretty, said: "I do not hope to resemble the Princess Michel, for that would ba to expect too much, but only to have her teeth I would give my hotel in the Champs Elysees ancf all it contains, including the contents of my jewel box: for with such teeth one need not be pretty - one has but to yawn or sniile and the world is at one's f eet." "Yes," replied a diplomat, "but I fear the princess will have occasion to yawn of tener than to smile, for his excellency, her husband, has the air of being neither agreeable nor amusing. I imagine the princess will regret Paris many times.'1 Indeed the prince, even at the time of his marriage, was not an agreeable man, and some years later he was still less so, to the sorrow of the princess be it said. He owed it to the coqnetry of his wife to be as jealous as a tiger, and to the favor of the czar to become minister of the pólice, and the result of his position did not serve to render him more amiable. However, he had found the opportunity to ntilize his public functions in aid of his private jealousy. He used his wife's coachman and the servan t who opened the door to further his ends, and his emissaries among the pólice soon placed in his hands all sorts of amorous declarations addressed to his wife, in every strain of ardent and passionate avowal. However, the nood of correspondence soon slackened, not because the princess was less seductive, but because she was indifferent or surfeited, and those who had confided to the post or telegraph their hopes and fears soon found themselves the victims of the most unexpected and various ill fortune, began to conjecture that either the princess had the evil eye, or that the eyes of the prince were too good. The correspondence only revealed to his excellency that his wife was a harmless coquette, and this discovery brought a relative satisfaction. But the exaction,s of the czar in regard to the nihilista now left him little time to protect the virtue of his wife, and judge of his ineflfable surprise when one day the following letter reached his hands, of which also he recognized but too well the handwriting, though it was signed by only a single initial: "It appears the emperor will set out sooner than was expected for Varsovie; hold yourself then in readiness to start at the earliest warning, for who knows when we will find again so favorable an opportunity? "I do not wish to conceal from you the difnculties of the undertakLng. Arrange your plans then for soccess without delay. You will present yourself to me as a friend of my family, traveling in Eussia for your pleasure. Cali upon my mother before you set out; she will give you some commission for me which will serve as an introduction in case of need." The unhappy prince was beside himself when he had finished reading this horrible letter. Then this conspiracy, which he fought night and day with sword, with prison and with exile; this pitiless war of armed monsters against the life of a single man, had its origin at his fireside! It was his own wife, his beautiful Madeleine, who said to the assassin, "Behold the hour; be ready to strike!" What fatality had armed his foreign wife against his sovereign? This woman had everything - youth, beauty, wealth, admiration. Yet she was a Nihüist. What more did she want? What stupendous hatred urged her to this crime at the risk of imprisonment, exile or death? Did the snows of Siberia tempt her erring feet? Waa there inf atnation in the cord that might strangle her ivorr diroat? Wbat ould be do? He thonght of killing his wife, then himself, and lea ving the public to coujecture a case of conjugal iafamy as tbe least of evils. Then he thought of throwing bimself at the f eet of the czar, and, af ter divulging everythmg, flying with the guilty woman. But the sentiment of duty made bim pause. He held the de wto a conspiracy; it was Tiecessaxy to unravel the whole plot, and for this reason the lettei must be allowed toreach lts destination. The assassin could be thus made to betra y himself. Already the name of this man was known to the minister - N,icholson- some Englishma-n or American, perbaps, an expert in dynamite, or siinply a Russian student wbo had assuined a fala name. The letter was sent, and the same evening the prince accompanied his wife to the opera, where, pale, trembling and feverish, he appeared fifteen years older. She was more charming and admired tban ever. "Are you 11, MichelV" inquired Madeleine, as seated in their carriage they drove homeward. "Why do you ask that question?" replied her husband, with a strangely somber air. "Whyf Because you have not appeared jealous this evening," she said, smiling. At the end of a week the minister remarked to his wife, without seeming to attach any importance to the statement, "It is on Tuesday that the czar sets out from St. Petersburg." "Ah," said Madeleine, seeming scarcely to have heard her husband. And then she murmured, "But the papers gave auother date." Desiring to deceive tha accomplice of Nicholson, for he had his plan, the ministei replied, "Yes, it is necessary to thwart ! those who may have designs against the life of the emperor." Then he spoke oí casual things, covertly admirijig the strength of soul of this unworthy woman. The very same da y convinced the minister that his ruse had succeeded, when the following dispatch was handed to hirn addressed by the princess, to whom it is easily divined: It is for Tnesday. Be punctual. Tuesday passed, and it may well be believed that neither the czar nor his minister left the capital. Madeleine suddenly became very uneasy at the announcement of his pretended change. On the afternoon of the following day a stranger, richly dressed and decorated with an enormous rosette, presented himself at the palace of the prince. "Whom do you wish to see?" inquired the obsequióos flunkey, who had received his orders from his master. "Madame the Princess de Contremont. Present my compliments, and inform her that I am the bearer of a message from her mother. I am Dr. Nicholson." ','You are expected, sir," replied the servant, "but madame is at this moment j visiting a friend, and bas left orders to have you conducted to her. The carriage will be ready in a moment." The carriage dxew up and the man entered with -Jicholson, taking his seat beside him without as inuch as asking permission. Nicholson's wonder at the fellow's presumption was of short duration, for after a rapid drive of a quarter of an hour the self styled doctor fotmd himself in one of the strongest prisons of St. Petersburg, and if he was expected it certainly was not by the princess. In a slovenly sort of reception room, filled with armed pólice, a personage whom he did not know, and who was the prince himself, interrogated him with a want of respect to which poor Nicholson was not accnstomed. "It is infamons!" he cried, struggling in his bewihlerment to defend himself. "I reached Paris only this morning, and have not spoken three words to any one, and when I present inyself to the priucess I am arrested and carried oiï to prison like a common thief." "You know the princess, then?" the minister inquired coldly. "Know her! I have known her since she was an infant. Here is a letter from her mother, the widow of a great general. Besides, I am an American citizen and protest" "Examine this man carefully!" interrupted the high functionary, without seeming to liear the doctor. Nothing to excite suspicion was found on Nicholson, except a little box carefully wrapped up in many envelopes oí fine paper. Could it be a-n infernal machine? An expert from the torpedo school, who usually accompanies the minister on such occasions, untied the package with scientific precaution. The roomful of assistants were very nervous and stood around with pallid faces, evidently awaiting a terrible explosión. Nothing abnormal was revealed, only the expert, with a singular smile, handed the open box to the prince, who, after a hasty glance at the contents, hnrriedly thrnst it in his pocket. Then turning to Nicholson he demanded, "You are" "An American dentist, sir; very much pressed for time, as my cliënt is this moment waiting for me." Five minutes later Nicholson was in the carriage again, having this time for a companion the prince himself, who loaded him with apologies. "But," said the husband of the beautiful Madeleine, "how did it happen that I never discovered anything inyself !" "Your excellency," proudly replied the American, "if you had been able to discover anything, such a ' dentist as Nicholson would not merit his great reputation. "Then the teeth of the princess" "Are false, my prince. When Mme. deContreinont was young she was throwii from her horse and sustained an injury which ruined her teeth, and it was myself who constructed for her the most perfect set of teeth that ever ïeft my hands. Bat these becoming worn I was summoned to Paris to adjust a new set in your absence." The public never heard of the adventure, but it was duly observed that the prince appeared to be less in love with hia wife than formerly. - From the French of Leon de Tinseau, by Frsncis M. Livingston, for New Orleans TimesDemocrat.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Argus