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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1884-5-29, Page 2LOST .n11 A WMA T BY MAY AGNEy-FLEM0Gl, aurizoat Or Silent and True," " .-1 Mad ,lInr-:j nage," One .l-urltt's ylptery," tte. PART Ili In mine eve, she h the s:se:testlady that I ever loakcel an." pile !tiro mews. No'rl ING. doneld !" There is a list of other names- madawo cares to read no farther. That nam, ;,ce:u's hi two or three other pies - performer of a " Moonligbht Scan: i." as soprano in a quartet, as second t I edllist. She hears the murmur of voieee stbout her, she sees a sea of faces, but she takes in no details. -cares for mese. Yes, once she is slightly aweleee- i. Two Sou g men in a seat near aa. ,iisc,,ssiug the coning enter - i'1 l.:a' at in v 11 mous vexes. • Oilt 1, tteting—es .. bouquet -white stir says one, seiaaug at his pro. t t•i 3 •' when Mere :>l'addelena does thio stile; of tide.;eh 'Woe de it. Drilled Elk gin -, tile. in their parts, and you will see Cal will do her honor. She ,l0,?4 i ,t' i -t , Sal„' Duret took hart in l,rirtt ea -mica's tit the court' of \,taokean I se? Snowball clown for the " White Queen,' says the sewed voice ; will look the part very fairly, at least, if she cannot net it. She is not unlike the pictnres of the Queen of Scots -•the same oval type of face. the same allur- ing sort of 1itiiile, I sat•a x1,1 fanev. Snow- ball will not make half a bad Marie Stuart, 1 saw Ristori in the part in New York net ln.tga;o." • stall, Snu,yball wou't equal Ristori r,• taisrl► hint my sister luno says she dee.e herself :nal Mer • :ll:ttltleleua much credit by her reederiug. !cook at this veueralle party ouour right," says M. Victor l)caaele au x, the photographer, lowering his Wire, " ber black oyes are going, through us --you particularly like articu arlylike Iteue Macdonald, atilt half srniliugg,. gixnee+ The " venerable Darty " books bolt haughty and dis. pleased -lie sees that. Who aro these young; men who are discussing her ggrauddaughtt'r - her granddaughter? aur Snawball, forsooth ! Then it Malan., upon her -ones of those may be, emit be. the boater's son. What if -a quite new and altogether unpleasant idea strikes Iter- what if Dolores - phloem 1 the chile} is but sixteen, and with no drought, doubtless, beyoucl her piateepiayiug and school -books. But her l," en eyes linger on Iris face. Is this name mast handsome ? Well, hardly, and it is a fine face, a clear.eut alive face, full of promise and power. Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?" quotes victor Desereaux, ..It is a deur ens,:,, Rune, Icy friend. The ehlerly party has succumbed to your aanus, she can't take her yeller. Able* eyeglass off your too captivating; face. If such is the havoc you work with a glance upon sixty years, what - oh 1 what must it be when the victim is but sixteen?" The orchestra bursts forth at the toorneut, and drowns his persiflage, and the performance commences. Qes .Pxuriselles, in airy white Swiss, flash on and off, "speak .Berea," sing songs, play the piano, make Iovely curtesies to the audience, appear and disappear. Madam Valentine sees them, and sees them not; they are not the rose, but they grow near that peerless flower. She is hot with impatience -her nerves are pulling hard. Why does not this foolery end, and the drama begin ? It is the piece de resistance of the day, and is kept until lesser matters are well out of the way. But its turn comes at last, and Marie Stuart, the child -widow of the Dauphin, in the snowy robes of her royal widowhood, "worn according to custom by the queens of France, hence called reiiles blanches," stands before then:. There is a murmur - a whisper Snowball "-a sort of vibration all through the audience, fairly taken by surprise at sudden sight of all that blonde beauty and grace. In those trailing pearly robes (white silk), her flaxen ringlets falling to her waist, with blue star -like eyes, but delicate rosebud face, those loosely clasped hands, she is a vision. Not Marie Stuart herself, in the days vghea her radiant loveliness was a world's wonder, could -it seems to those who look -have outshone this. $' My faith!" says the lowered voice of M. Desereaux. " That little' sinter of yours is a (Luling beauty, my friend, Rene 1 How is it ? nave only thought her a pretty little girl, hitherto." Is Rene Macdonald asking himself the same question? He leans forward, his dark eyes kind- ling, watching every motion, drinking in ever word. Is this Snowball - little madcap Snowball, with whom he has been quarreling all his life ; whom he has pelted blind with her namesakes, every winter • whom ho has snubbed, and contradicted,._ and put down on every occasion ? This fairy vision this radiant Reine Blanche, the mocking, ex- asperatingmischief-maker, whose breath he has half shaken out of her body erst- while for her pranks, whose ears he has tweaked, whose misdeeds on the high seas he has reprobated ! He feels. dazed. Has he been blind -or a 18 it the dress she wears -he has never seen her walking in silk attire before -is it his • three months absence in New York- tvhat is it 2 He has never seen this girl before, it seems to him, ' in his hfe - never, certainly, with the same dazzled eyea. Will she be his commonplace, every- day Snowball to -morrow, and will this glamour have gone? He almost hoses so : he does not know himself-er her--in'this mood, Aud still the play goes on -other people seen; to be under the spell of the siren, too, She is singing,, now, with "tears in her voice," in a veiled, vibrating tone" that gods to the heart : "Adieu: 0I,larsaut pays de France.. 0 ma, patrio t'' And so on. She is leaving the sunny land for bleak Scotland. How low, how hushed is her voice! She seems to feel the words she sings.. You may hear a pin drop in that long and crowded hall, And now the curtain is down, and the music is playing, and the first act is. over, and Rene Macdonald, like ono who wakes from a dream, leans back and asses his hand across his eyes, as if to pel a mist. " My word of honor, Macdonald," says young Desereaux, she is a. marvel. Sho never looked like that before. How do you suppose she does it 2" The whole audieueo is in that flutter and stir that invariably follow the drop- ping ro p ping• of a stage curtain. All are discussing " La Rene Blanche," her beauty, her surprising aotiug of the art, her vague resemblance to the ovely. Scottish queen. Ilene Macdonald sits nearly silent, lost, in a sort of dream -waiting with a tingling of taro pulses, a thrilling of the blood, a quicheuiug of his calm heart- beats, altogether new andinexplicable. Why should be cue -like this -to See Snowball" He never has cared before 2 The orchestra use playing something very brilliant---iu the midst of it the curtail raises again. Yes -there is Mary Stuart, widow once more -exiled --imprisoned. She stands on the shore of Lochieveu, and Willie Douglas kneels at her feet. The white robes are gone -,the fleet - thee curls are bidden away under a ve`?vot " snood "-the face is and and pale. Willie Dou lac Rawls there, urging her to fly, M. Victor Desereaux, with me eye on the play, keeps the other well ou other things, and notices especiallythe rapt attention of the dignified elerly sadly, whose hard stare at Rene caught lis at- tention from the first. He secs her now, aR through this act, sitting erect, a flush on her thin cheeks, an eager light in her Ano eyes. All present aro interested, but none to the same extent. Who is she 2 he wonders. Snowball has no relatives that any ono kuows of. Whosoever she may be, she is vividly absorbed. ill the fair little heroine of the drama. And now it is the third and closing; deli -the very last scene, -She might be called la lteinc Noire as she stands, all in black black vclvot-(ecu)-that trails far behind, aua gives height and dignity to, slim sixt len, a stilly -starched ruff, a dear little Mario Stuart cap on i her blonde head. In that sweeppng robe, that raff, that cap, Mlle, Trillon feels a very important little personage indeed, and treads the hoards every ineh a queen: She stands, her queenly head well thrown back, her royal oyes flash- ing, her royal cheeks Rushing, voice ringing -confronting and denouncing her great enemy, Elizabeth of England. One of the goad sisters, with more love for the memory of Mary Stuart than strict fidelity to historic facts, has written this drama, and here, face to face, the rival queens stand and glare at each other. Elizabeth, atall, stout young lady, in ruff and farthingale, and conspicuouslyfiame-colored.hair, cowers, strong-minded though she be, before the outraged majesty of that glance, and is ether crushed and annihilated altogt by the eloquent outburst of regal wrath and reproach with which the royalty of Scotland finally quenches her. But marry ! what avail reproaches? Marie Stuart is sentenced and doomed to die. The last scene : Dim light ; mournful music ; solemn, expectant hush, and Marie Stuart, still in trailing velvet - black, wearing a long veil, carrying a crucifix, followed by her maids of honor, with lace mouchoirs to their dry eyes, is led 'forth to die. It is only a school play, but there is the block, sable and suggestive, there is the headsman, in a frightful little black mask, mid- most dreadful of all -there is a horribly bright and cutting-lookingmeat axe. It is only a school play, but Reue Macdon- ald is pale with vague emotions as he sits and looks. If it were real ? How white she is, in that black dress -how tall it makes her look, how mournful are the blue, steadfast eyes, that never leave the symbol she carries. The low, wailing music of the orchestra gives him a desolate sense of loss and pain He wishes they would stop. There is deepest silence. " Into Thy hands I commend my spirit." How. despairingly the solemnwords fall. She kneels, her eyes are bandaged, " with , a Corpus Christi ,not d. by Mistress Kennedy," smith hip or :. • Tho mew, face droops forward, the golden head rests on the block. The headsman lifts in both hands the glitter- ing axe 1 There is a sound -a sound as of hard -drawn breaths through the halls, then -it is the curtain that falls. and not the axe. Music and light flash up Marie Stuart has had. her head cola• fortably off, and her manifold troubles are over! " Parbleu !" says M. Desereaux, and laughs. Rene falls back ; he has been leaning` forward in that almost painful tension- he is thoroughly glad it is over. " Why, Rene, old fellow," his friend says, " how pale you look. If little Boole -de -neige were really getting her pretty head off, you could hardly put on a more tragic face." • " I find it close here," Rene says, with some impatience. " I wish it was over. What comes next ?" He looks' at his satin slip, but when the next comes he hardly heeds. How lovely she looked! Who would have thought it was in herto throw herseli into a powerful' +artlike that? A clever little upad an.' "ilio_'of its wealth of sunt! ids,ps ,z tthould''nelter' va founa it before. She 'wlii 'appear $in Sresezitl$r to 'play --afterward to slrig. he will•do both well; he knows her musical power at least, She comes -this time in the white Swiss and wreath of the other pension tiaires-a school -girl -no longer a white queen. She receives her crown and medal from Episcopal hands, and has a few gracious words spoken to her by that very great vice -regal personage. and that other distinguished visitor, " my lady," by Ws side. Then there follows the general distri- bution of prizes, and the bishop and the personages are kept busy for awhile, and literally have their hands full. This, too, ends, and meeting and mingling in the parlors, and congratu- lations and mild refreshments aro to follow. Everybody rises and moves away. Sister Ignatia, second in command, comes to Madam Valentine. Mere Maddeleua is of course devoting herself to her patrons, and the personage and my lady. " You will come in to the parlore, madam ?" asks smiling Sister Ignatia. I fear you must be tired. It was rather long." " 1 ilia not find it so. 1 have beau deeply interested," replies madam, truthfully ; " they acquitted themselves. excellently, one and all. The perform. anee leavers nothing to bo desired." " And Dolores ?" says the sister, gently ; " pardon, but reverend, mother has told me all. How do you find your rrrtllaL ,rtr,.la ul ?" h " So charming, my sister," says marl. m, smiling her brightest in return, that my mind is %cite made up. When 1 `leave St. Grades any grand- daughter leaves with me." CllAPTBii X, "al:nev t o PL.1._iSANr PATS OR risme 11' Three long parlors, en suite, are filled with admiring, congratulating, pleased papas and mangoes, as Sr. Ignatia with Madam 'Salentine make their way through. Many eyes follow curiously the distinguished-Iookrug elderly lady. so elegantly simple of dress, so proudly severe of face -a face that seems cut in old ivory -bearing unmistakably the stamp of " old world." "Tore are intro. auctions -the two titled poeple, the bishop, a fow others of the more elect- and is then escorted to au oasy.eliair, slightly raised, whence, at her ease, she Wray sit end view the rooms, A very bright picture it is, very animated -all the mailbag l d mammas, and the " ei'ltere, al cousins, and the aunts ;" the deny in Swiss and rosobutls, but tresses all retaining their fancy dresses. The Empress Josephine, In the costume of the First Empire, her waist -belt under her arms, balloon sleeves and huffed hair, is saun- tering a aun-tering. arm in arm with that sanguinary young miss, who bat now, in a scarlet blouse and Week velvet mask, chopped Alf a royal head. Joan of Arc is present, in a helmet of shining; silver -paper, a shield of the sauna invincible armor, a tin sword by her side, and valor on her lefty brow Marie Antoinette faits by pretty* and piquant, and looking none the 'worse for her mi;aativoutures, all and sundry, in the temple. All the sugar -plums of French history are there - Blanche Castile, queen and saint ; Genevieve, peasant girl and patroness of Paris. And last, but not least -ever charming Marie Stuart, in full feather, black vol - vet cap, ruffs, and stomacher, all dotted over with sham pearls. Blue eyes sparkle, long ringlets '.flow, red lips smile -a dainty fan of black and gold flutters coquettishly -she looks to the full as alluring as her bewitching proto. type. . Madam valentine sits, unable for a moment to take her entranced eyes off this brilliant little queen of the revels. Shall I bring her up now, madam?"• asks, deferentially, Sister Ignatia. " If you please, sister. Stay, who is that young man ?" "That is M. Rene Macdonald, the elder son of our good doctor, of Isle Percdrix, and the brother-consprenee vows -of mademoiselle." " I see. Yes, bring her up." The brother - camprenez Vous—of mademoiselle has just stopped her by catching ono yellow cart, and pulling it out to a preposterous length. " Will rt please your decapitated ma- jesty of Scotland to cast an eye on the most unworthy of her subjects ?" ho inquires ; and Snewball,turning quickly, gives a little ecstatic scream. " Rene !" Both hands go out to him in a rapture of welcome. " Dearest boy 1 When did you come ?" Dearest boy ; Ali ! happy Ilene 1" sighs M. Desereaux, and takes himself off. " To -day, couple of hours ago," an- swers Rene, inwardly much gratified by his reception, outwardly nonchalant, " just in time to see you beheaded. You did it very well, Snowball. I dare say we shall almost be proud of you one of these days. So Johnny's gone 1" Yes," says Snowball, and a sigh, big, deep, sincere, heaves up frond the very depths of her wlraleboned stom- acher, "Johnny's gone. And oh 1 how I have missed him. 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