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CMAWTVW KJtVHI—Ccatlmaed.
Lacy." h» Mli "1 j
tor* (naMh'tl t« Mt «f you"
*1 will to It.* Lmt pmmfeKt With*- I
ty. rat tor total’s
1-SMWta leeched. "Taa treat oe*_
Msf-.amlasilo larr (Jut to tlain
Ttoa tto fere totia* wttot. “Do tw
rwalr • tail we o*tw tod tufwttor
rttt t told yea of ay eld [liv aaate
AtoeT*
Tie Utotuto Cashed furtouelv u
ah# recalled that talk Itoa ato cod
tod la a aailMNdtot manner "I re
aoi ai>nr very nil.' ah* aaid. "ft »a*
•to* I threw aywlf at roar head aad
|w aaid yta Mat waal aa“
frimuh' ehoaltors aad hand* aad
eye* waat epward together lato aa
lalOMtlf toad feature, "What a
torrar?” to cried. "Wtot aa turn peak
ahia maitaar ts recoil act that talk* i
Mow aaa ywa? Hoa cue you ba ao
brutal to meT"
Hath at them, at that, buret late
tight-hearted la ash ter Lucy aaa (rare
motoaaiy.
"Vat yea bare sametfciag to aak
■a fitarda Tea i|Kdr of jw
playmate to-ectlfcl Allis'
"It la otlj yea whom ! could ask to
to this Ma’.li moOnlle Lacy. 1 bare
aanr uAd aaywma elaa about her. Only
pee Laos of"- the sards came aloe
If—V my lore tor tec Abe dora not
know K. Alisa toea not lour. And
I atayr ba killed, see »«ea. in thin fight
tor the priaea. (dull* easily Aad
Alisa will not know. I do aot like
that la feet 1 naaoot bear U. So this
Ik riot I aak of you. dear matomol
satie" He hraaght oat a letter aad
katd it to tor. "If yea toar that 1 an
lOX. will yea sard H to A list*"
Lacy took the letter aad tuned It
tf»r toatotoUy "I to not like this
awrt of pool mortem nr ni lea Inn. fraa
eafe I feel as tf 1 were bolding your
•es-bwarrant-*
-bM it to not by • bit of writ: eg 1
■haii onto my finish. ouMtoaolisUs I
r-uotoo wot to die gw min 3is sooner
for toot Verier It to only tbot It will
«*l» mo happy to hoow yoo will send
to"
oMlag too letter flager!y,
ao Francois not to go
i by him • moment oad laid
on hto coot sleeve "Fran
w»at to tall yoo something "
- yes. Lucy." ]
“ j
"This to It. tben"—and Francois
smiling, waited sad there was deep
toieocu In toe teg. coot, quiet drawing
mcot k* os loag so o minute "This It
to. them 1 don't know how I can be sc
Wtofooom ahU but I am I love Harry
—I as happy but 1 as quite—jealous
of Aline. And 1 think yes are the most
wonderful perwoo I hare ever known
much more wonderful than Harry
it there bad bees no Altne; 11 you had
—liked se—I can ftaagine haring
adored yoe 1 do adore you. Francois.
PSew. bow to all that compatible with
my joy in marrying Harry* I don't
know how H la—but It la so ism s
wicked tonful person—but It to so."
The west time Lacy Hampton saw
rrvscoa it was warn. white-roMd and
onset to her enveloping mist of veil
owe waot up toe chaao.1 stops of the
tails Virginia country church, and
twh.se up met a entile that was s
htfWedtcOoo from the man whom she
had Wired, who flood done now at toe
dbdr of her lover, her husband.
CHAPTER XXIX.
The P*Joee*s Rrvpht Shadow.
Thor* are old people 11 nag in Eng
today who remember hearing
four fathers and mothers speak of a
jrgnr Frenchman of uncommon per
goaiity. constantly seen with Prince
L—to Napoleon during the last days
«f his life In London In the year 1840
10*1 Constance Cecil nicknamed tote
trmirhmir "toe prince's bright
brotherhood between them.
gwi the tradition runs that toe myu
Ideal prince had a superstition that his
luck went with him In the person of
the CkevaHer Benepre.
It was all as it should be; he was
entirely happy. He had asked three
v. lahes of the good fairies, as he had
said long ego; that the prince should
be •■mperor- that he might become "a
marshal of France under another Bona
parte" that Allxe should love him.
1%e first two he believed about to be
realised The last? It was not now
the time to think of that Allxe had
kissed him good-by. Thai would more
than do till the fight was over. Bo he
sp-d back to London, missing Pietro.
In* hopeful and buoyant. And In Lon
don there was a letter for him from
Virginia
' !h*ar Francois,” Lucy began. “To
•htnfc that the first letter sent to you
by Harryh wife should be to tell you
•h*» she hm betrayed your trust In
her 1 am dlstrwwed beyond words,
V t bare made a mistake which may
mean distress to you. You remember
the letter In Allxe which you trusted
to me t» send In case anything should
happen to you? I had 11 1b my hand
the week after my wedding when 1 had
gone upstairs to get other letters for
Kurope whhh my father had command
ed me to send by the next packet. And
la some stupid unexplainable way I
slipped roues -your precious letter—
among them In place of oae to my fa
ther's agents In London, end I hur
tled thiwn and gave the parcel to Sam
bo who was waiting to rid* to Nor
folk with them And then Harry and
1 west away on a visit to Martin’s
Brandos for three days, and It was
•>nly when 1 came back that 1 dlscor
e-ed the dreadful mistake I had made
'an you ever forgive me? Harry and
1 thought over every possibility of stop
ping It. bat there seemed to be no
• hancs AY* you very angry with me,
dear friend of Harry’s and of mine?"
The letter went on with reproaches
ar>d regrets and finally slipped Into a
tale of a new happy life which Fran
ci !• had mad* possible for the two.
I* r*ad It over several times. His
letter to Allxe, which should have been
*« rt only aTer his death, had gone to
her. What then? She would know
that he loved her; that he had lored
‘ter alwaya; that he would kne her
fttrsvar; that Iha on* wl*h of Ills life
had been that she should love himself
-not Metro. He had said that In the
1’ttsr; that was all. He was glad that
»he should know, though he would
never have told her In li/e. It was
doa* and he would And out now If
Metro Indeed cared for her, if she
cared for Metro. And if not. then one
had waited long enough; then at last
—the Joy of the thought choked him.
A knock came at the door of the
room tn the London lodging where he
sat with Lucy Hampton's letter before
him. Frits Klckenbach stood there;
his highness would like to see the
chevalier. All personal thoughts were
locked swiftly Into the drawer with
Lucy's letter and "the prince's bright
shadow** went to the prince.
CHAPTER XXX.
The Third Wish.
On the day when Francois in Lon
don read that letter of Lucy Hamp
ton's which had awaited his return
from France, a letter from Lucy
Hampton reached Alize at the chateau
of Vieques She carried It to Metro's
room where he sat In a deep chair at a
window which looked over Deles
snontes valley and ths racing Cheulte
liver, and the village strung on the
shores. His elbow on the stone win
dow-sill. his chin in his hand, he stared
st the familiar picture.
Alize, coining in without knocking
at the open door, stepped across and
stood by him. and he did not lift his
head, bis listless eyes did not yet
shift their gaze from the broad land
Ths Gray Eye* Met Hera.
reaper. Alixe, looking down at the
black bead with its short curls set in
thick locks—after the manner of the
curl* of Praxiteles' Hermes—was
?tartl«d to see many bright lines of
gray through the dark mass. Was ev
erybody getting old? Francois with
the broad band of white in his hair—
and now Metro—big little Pietro, who
had come to them and learned to ride
Coq and played with them. Was Pietro
getting old and gray?
By one of the sudden impulses char
acteristic of her, her hand flew out
and rested on the curled head as if to
protect it, motherly, from the whiten
ing of time.
And Metro turned slowly and looked
up at her with eye* full of hopeless
ness and adoration. Such a look he
had never before given her; such a
look no one could mistake except a
woman who would not let herself un
derstand.
"It Is good to be up and at the win
dow. Isn't it?" Alixe spoke cheerfully,
and her hand left his head and she
went on In a gay disengaged tone.
"Ton will be downstairs in two or three
days now, and then It is only a jump
to betng out and about, and then—then
in a minnte yon will be well again.”
“Oh, yea;” Pietro answered without
animation, “it will not be long before
I am wait,” ,
“Look, Pietro;" AHxe held out the
paper in her hand. “Such a queer let
ter! From Virginia. From the little
Lucy Hampton of whom Francois
talks, i don’t understand it Will yon
let me read it to you?”
‘“Surely;" said Pietro, and waited
with his unsmiling eyes on her face.
“My dear mademoiselle;" Alize read,
“i am writing to beg your forgiveness,
as I have begged that of the Chevalier
Beaupre. for the very great fault I
have committed. The chevalier trust
ed to me a letter ft>r you which was to
have been sent you only in case of a
eertaln event; by a carelessness which,
unmeant as it was, I shall never for
give myself; t gave It with other let
ters to our negro Samba to be posted
at ocee. By now It may have, reached
you. t eannot tell if 1 have made
trouble or not, but in any ense, I can
not rest without saying to you—as
well as to the Chevalier—how sorry I
am. If you eaa find It In your heart
to forgive me, please do so; dear
mademoiselle. That I should have
i made trouble for one as dear to the
chevalier as you are Is a deep grief to
me. He has talked to me of you. With
a very earnest prayer again for your
forgiveness I am, mademoiselle, yours
faithfully and sincerely.—Lucy Hamp
ton Hampton."
Pietro looked bewildered. “What is
It about?" he asked.
u! wonder/’ and Alixe laughed and
frowned at the paper In her hand. "It
seems Francois wrote me a letter and
left it with Uttle Mistress Hampton to
be sent in ease of a certain event.’
What event? What a strange thing
for Francois to do! And then he came
to us here and said nothing of mys
terious letters left cooking la Vir
ginia. I eannot make it out, Pietro—
can you?”
‘‘Not I," said Pietro.
“The letter of Francois has not
come; that is certain; 1 wonder If the
negro Sambo lost It.”
"Probably,'’ Pietro said. "It should
have come before this one. otherwise.”
"U is a riddle/’ Altxe decided, “and
I never guess them.” Then, dropping
into a seat on the wide window-sill,
“Pietro—you are letting yourself be
depressed.”
i ne gray eyes met tiers with some
thing that seemed a wall of reserve In
their Bteady glance, “I think poeslbly
1 infes having no exercise,” he said.
“1 will feel more natural when I ean
get about,”
Alixe looked at him. ‘‘You are eat
ing your heart out to be with Fran
cois.” she said, and laid her hand on
his.
Pietro stared as If the light touch
had shaken him; then slowly his large
fingers twigted lightly around the
email ones, and he turned his face
again, holding her hand so. to the win
dow and the view of the valley and
the river and the village. A moment
they sat so. the gtrl’B hand loose in
the hollow of the man's; a slow red
crept into AHxe's face; there was con
fusion in her brain. She had laid her
hand on that of her brother; her broth
er had taken It In his—and behold, by
a witchcraft It was all changed. This
delicate big grasp that held her was
not brotherly; through all her veins
suddenly she knew that; the flush shot
up to her eyes, to her forehead, and
she tried, with an attempt at an every
day manner, to draw her hand away.
But Pietro, his set pale face toward
the window, his eyes gazing out, held
her hand. With that the world had
reeled and was whirling past her.
Pietro had caught both her hands in a
tight grip and had urawn them against
him, was holding them there, was
looking at her with a face which not
even she. this time, might mistake.
“Alixe." he said, "I know you don’t
care for me. I know you love Fran
cois. 1 did not mean ever to speak,
but when you put your hand on
mine—”
He held her pal me together and
parted the palms and klesed the fin
gertips, first of one and then of the
other, as if he kissed something holy.
"I shall never speak again, but this
once I will. I always loved you—one
must. I knew always that a slow si
lent person like me would have no
chance againet a feilowi like Francois.
So I have kept still, and It was hard. It
won’t be so hard now that you know.
Are you angry, Alixe?”
Alixe, witn ner bead bent so that
Pietro did not see her face, with her
head bending lower—lower, suddenly
was on her knees by the chair and her
face was on Pietro’s arm.
’’Alixe," he whispered, ‘‘what is it—
what have I done?”
But the brown waves of hair with
the blue ribbon tied around them lay
motionless on his arm. And suddenly
a thought shook him.
“It cannot be!” he gasped.
And Alixe lifted her face, and the
exaggerated black lashes lifted, and
the blue glance lifted and rested on
Pietro’s black hair bent down where
the light shone on the sliver lines
through it. lrp flashed her hand im
pulsively, gently—as Alixe did things,
and touched the thick lock with an in
finitely delicate caress. “Your hair—
is all turning gray,” she whispered in
two quick breathe, and at that, in some
occult fashion Pietro knew.
For moments they had no need of
that makeshift, language; the great
house was very quiet, and one heard
the horses stamping in the paved
courtyard and the grooms singing, and
yet one did not hear it. Distant sounds
came from the village, but one only
knew that long after, in remembering
that morning. All they knew was that
the ghost of a lifelong affection of
brother and sister stood before them,
changed by a miracle to a shining
angel into whose face, for these first
moments, they dared not look. Then
slowly, exquisitely, courage came and,
hand close in hand, they looked at
each other astonished, glad. It was
Pietro and Alixe still, the ancient play
fellows, the childhood friends—all the
dear familiarity was there yet, but no
longer were they brother and sister
And then, after a while they began to
compare notes of things hidden.
“When did you begin—to like me—'
this way, Pietro?"
“I don’t know,” answered Pietro
stupidly. “Does it make any differ
ence?”
“A great deal,” Alixe insisted. "It’s
important. It’s historical."
“But this isn’t history," said Pietro.
Allxe, however, retained to the
charge. "Last year?"
“Last year—what?” Pietro asked;
he had already forgotten the question.
"Oh—that I began to—non dlen—no.
Last year! Why, I think It was the
day I came and saw yon riding Coq.”
“Oh, Pietro—If you will talk only
nonsense!" Alixe’s voice was disap
pointed. “But why, then, didn’t yon
ever say so before this? We are both
a thousand years old now. If you—
loved me”—she spoke the word In a
lower voice—“why, then, were you ae
quiet as a mouse about it all these
years?”
“I thought you cared for Francois."
Pietro said simply. And added, “Didn’t
you?”
Allxe considered. “I don’t—think—
I ever did, Pietro. Not really. I
thought I did perhaps. He dazzled me
—Franeols—with his way of doing all
sorts of things brilliantly, and that
wonderful something about him makes
everybody love him. He believed in
his star; there was around him the
romance of the emperor’s prophecy
and the romance of the career which
is, we believe, about to begin now;
there was always a glamour about
Francois."
‘‘Yes,-’ Pietro agreed. “The glamour
of his courage, Allxe, of loyalty and un
selfishness; the qualities which make
what people call his charm. Francois
is unlike the rest of the world, I be
lieve, Allxe;”
Pietro talked on, the silent Pietro,
ae if delivering a lecture. He had read
much and thought much; It was sel
Suddenly a Thought Shook Him.
dom he spoke of the speculations which
often filled his scholarly mind; today it
seemed easy to talk of everything. Joy
had set wide all the doors of his be
ing. Alixe opened her eyes in aston
ishment
“Pietro! You are—talking like a
book! But It is true; something of
that sort hae come to me. too—which
proves it to be true. I have felt al
ways that Francois had notes in him
which are not on our pianos.” Pietro
smiled, looking at her.
"And yet Alixe, you do not love
Francois, with all these gifts and all
his power over hearts—but only com
monplace me?"
Alixe straightened against his arm.
“Monsieur the Marquis Znppl, the gen
tleman I—care for, is not common
plaoe. I thank you not to say it," she
shot at him. and then, melting to a
sudden intensity, she put a hand on
each side of his dark face and spoke
earnestly. “Pietro, dear, listen. I be
lieve I always cared for you. When 1
was little it hurt me to have Francois
forever the one to do the daring things.
Do you remember how I used to scold
at you because you would not fight
him?" Pietro smiled again "Then he
was captain of the school and you only
a private, and I cried about that when
I was alone at night. And when you
went off to Italy so quietly, with never
a word said about the danger, I did not
know that you were doing a fine deed
—I thought it a commonplace that you
should go hack to your country, til!
Francois opened my eyes.”
"Francois?" Pietro asked.
“Yes. The day before he went to
join you we were riding together and
he told me what it meant to be a
patriot in Italy under the Austrians.
That day I realized how unbearable it
would be if anything happened to you.
But I thought I cared for Francois; if
he had spoken that day I should have
told him that I cared for him. But he
did not; he went—and was in prison
five years."
"And all that time I believed you
loved him, and were mourning for
him," Pietro said gently.
“I half believed It too.” Alixe an
swered. “Yet all the time I was
jealous for you, Pietro, for it was still
Francois who was the hero—not you.
Then when there came a question of
his rescue I was mad with the desire
to have you do it—and you did it”
Her voice dropped. She laid her
hand against his shoulder and spoke,
in a quick cautious way.
“But all that is immaterial. I just
love you—that’s the point” A mo
ment later she spoke again. “I want
to finish telling you—and then we need
never speak of it again. I did think
you were—commonplace. And yet I
knew in my heart you were not, for
I resented your seeming so. So I
urged you into danger. I wanted you
to be a hero. I had that echo of a
schoolgirl’s romance about Francois
in my mind, and I clung, all along, to
the idea that I loved him and that per
haps he secretly loved me but would
not say it because he was poor and a
peasant; that he was waiting till his j
future was made. Then, one day, only
the other day, he told me that he had
asked three wishes of life—‘of the
good fairies’ he said. One was to make
Prince Louis Emperor, one was to be
Marshal of France; the third—” she
stopped.
“What?” Pietro demanded, his
mouth a bit rigid.
Alixe flushed and smiled and took
Pietro’s big hand and covered her eyes
with it. “That I should—love you.
Monsieur. He said he had wished that
all his life.”
“May heaven grant him his wish,”
said Pietro fervently, and then, reflect
ing, “It seems a strange wish for Fran
cois. You are sure, Alixe?”
“Yes, he .said so,” Alixe Insisted.
“Our dear Francois," she went on soft
ly, and the blue intensity of her eyes
grew miBty. “Dear Francois,” she re
peated, “it is only he who could have
had those three wishes. The single
one that was for himself was not be
cause he cared for it himself, but be
cause It was the Emperor's prophecy."
“I always thought,” Pietro spoke
slowly, “that It was not indeed for
himself that he wished to be a Mar
shal some day, but, because it might
make him. In a manner, your equal.
It was for you.”
"For me!” Alixe was astonished. "I
never thought of that. I think you
thought of It, Pietro, only because you
—cared for me—and thought Fran
cois must care also.”
“Yes, I thought he cared,” Pietro
considered. “I ean not believe other
wise yet"
“You may believe it.” Alixe was
firm. “For he said that what he had
wished always was that ! should—love
you. I did It mostly to please Fran
eois,” she added serenely.
And Pietro's response to that was
apt, but not to be given here. The
minds of these two happy lovers were
full of that third who had been so
elose always, to each of them.
“Pietro,” Alixe spoke earnestly, com
ing back to the same subject, “you
I know that I love Francois—of course.
But you do not know In what way.
I love him as If he were one of the
saints—but also as If he were a help
less little ehild. Yet not—Pietro—as
If he were—-the man I love. 1 would
give my life for him In a rush of de
light, If he needed It. But I know now,
whatever were my vague dreams in
past years, that It Is not In Francois
to care for a woman as a human man.”
“I am not so sure,” said Pietro, and
shook his head.
“You know I am not abusing our
Francois,” Alixe protested. “Why,
Pietro, my father believes, and I be
lieve, that if affairs should so happen
that he has his opportunity he may
yet be one of the great characters in
history. My father says he Is made
up of Inspirations, Illuminations—and
limitations.”
“Yes," said Pietro thoughtfully. “He
has the faults of brilliancy and fear
lessness. He judges too rapidly. If
he were afraid ever—If he saw the
other side of a question ever, his judg
ment would be safer. It may well hap
pen that he will be one of the great
| men of Europe; It may also happen
i that by some single act of mismanage
| rnent he will throw away his career— |
or his life. God keep him safe!” Pie- •
j tro said simply.
And Alixe echoed It—“God keep him
safe!” And then, “I am going to write
! him, Pietro—about us. My father
knows where to reach him at Bou
i logne I am going to say just a word—
I that what he has wished for all his
| life is true. It will get to him the
night before the battle.”
“Are you sure you are right, Alixe?”
; Pietro asked doubtfully.
“Sure," said Alixe buoyantly.
“Give him my love, then,” said Pie
I tro.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Night Before.
Out In the dark, in the harbor of
Boulogne, the ship Edinburgh Castle
lay rocking in the wind. Prince Louis
Bonaparte, who had chartered her. and |
the handful of his iollowera who had
sailed with him on her from England '■
had disembarked quietly at twilight, !
and in small companies had succeeded
In entering the town and the quarters
of the officers who were, in France, i
the nucleus and the hope of their at
tempt. In the rooms of Lieutenant
Aiadenize. the host of the Prince, a
short council had been held to go over
once more the plans which had been
discussed and settled by letter for
weeks already. The work was care
fully arranged; there was almost noth
ing to be changed, and the little com
pany of men who were trying so large
a fate, scattered, with grave faces,
with quiet good nights to the Prince
who might tomorrow be their Em
peror, to the Prince for whose sake
they might tomorrow night be any or
all ruined men or dead men.
Ho sat erect and listened. Thelin
was brushing clothes with energy in
the bedroom, and through another door
there came a light sound of a paper
turned, of a gay song sung softly. And
a glow suddenly warmed the Prince's
heart; here was some one who had
known his mother, who had been, in
deed, for a few days her son; here
was some one who cared for him, he
believed it, with a half-consuming
flame of devotion. Since the man's
arrival from Virginia six weeks before,
to have him near himself had been a
pleasure to Louis Bonaparte; he
seemed to bring back the freshness
of his early days, of the young confi
dence when his star shone for him.
distant perhaps, but undimmed by the
black clouds which drove now across
it He was a bit snperstitlous about
Francois as well, with an Idea, which
he spoke to no one, that a pivotal In
terest of his career rested In the mod
est figure.
He rose, this night In Boulogne, as
the paper rustled and the little French
provincial chanson sounded from the
room where Francois Beaupre. now
his secretary, had been Installed, and
stepped to the closed door.
“De tons cote's l’on que Je sals
bete."
Francois sang softly. The Prince
smiled. As he opened the door the
singing stopped; the young man
sprang respectfully to hts feet, a let
ter grasped in his hand, and stood
waiting.
"Sire!” he said.
Prince Louis flung out his hand with
a gesture of Impulsiveness strange to
his controlled manner, yet not out of
drawing to those who knew him well.
‘‘Ah, Francois,” he cried. "Let the
titles go for tonight. Say, ‘Louis,’ as
on that day when we first saw each
other; when the four children played
together In the old chateau ruins. And
Francois smiled his radiant exquisite
smile and answered quietly. "But yes,
my brother—Louis.” And went on, “I
believe I shall not sleep tonight. Louis.
I believe I am too happy to sleep.”
As one reads a novel for relaxation
In the strain of a critical business af
fair, Prince Louis caught at the dis
traction of this slrle issue. The next
morning was planned to the last de
tail; there was nothing to do till day
light, yet he could not sleep at pres
ent. Here was a romance of some
sort. He sank back on the cushions
of the coach of Lieutenant Aladenlze's
smoking room and put his feet up lux
uriously, aDd siowlj lighted a cigar
of Havana.
“Tell me.” he ordered, and the gen
tleness of appeal wae in the order.
“Sire”—the young man began—and
corrected himself. “Louis.” he said.
The Prince smiled dimly. “Since our
landing I have known that a wonder
ful thing has happened to me. It Is”—
he spoke lower—“it Is the love of the
woman who Is to me the only one in
the world.”
“1 congratulate you, mon ami,” Louts
said gently. “Is it by any chance the
delightful little Mademoiselle Alixe of
the old chateau?”
Beaupre turned scarlet. He was a
marvelous man. this Prince Louis.
How had he guessed? “She loves me
—I have here a letter in which she
tells me that she lov.vs me. Will his
Highness read it?” With an impetu
ous step forward he beid the paper
toward Louis Napoleon.
I thank you, the Prince said grave
ly. He read:
“Francoie. what you have wished all
your life is true. The good fairies
have granted one of your wishes be
fore the battle. That they will give
you the other two on the day of the
battle is the belief of yovr
"AUXE."
And below was written hurriedly,
“Pietro sends his love.”
The Prince gave back the letter with
a respectful hand; then looked at
Francois inquiringly. “ 'What yon
have wished all your life,’ man ami?”
Francois laughed happily. "One must
explain, if it will not tire his High
ness.” And he told, in a few words,
of that day when his self-restraint had
given way and how, when his guard
was down and he was on the point of
telling his lifelong secret love, some
spirit of perversity—but Francois did
not know it was an angel—had caught
Alixe, and Bhe had accused him of
wishing always that she might love
Pietro. And how, meshed in that same
net of hurt recklessness, he had an
swered In her own manner—"Yes,” he
had said, "it was that which had been
the wish of his life—that Alixe might
love Pietro!” And Francois laughed
gaily, telling the simple entanglement
to the Prince, the night before the
battle. “One sees how ehe is quick
and clear-sighted, my Alixe,” he said.
“For she knew well even then it was
not that I wished." He stopped, for
In the quiet contained look of the
listener an intangible something struck
a chill to his delicately-poised sensi
tiveness. “What ie it, Louis ?” he cried
out. “You do not think I mistake her
—Mistake—Alixe!"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Philosopher’s Purpose.
“I am looking for an honest nun;
said Diogenes.
“What do you want with one?”
“Oh, nothing in particular. My real
philanthropic purpose is to sbow the
world how to conduct a long and re
sultless investigation with as little ex
pense as possible.”
ART OF TREE SCULPTURE
Old English Custom That Called for
the Cutting of Fantastic
Shapes.
Very many years ago it was the
fashion of England and on the con
tinent to have great gardens of ever
green trees trimmed and clipped into
curious and fantastic shapes. To such
an extent did the craze develop that
these gardens were filled with crouch
ing lions, pigs and even hens and
chickens, all laboriously sculptured
from living green and kept in trim
by constant use of the knife and the
shears.
A few of these gardens were es
tablished in this country and one still
remains in perfect condition. It is
located on the famous Hunnewell es
tate at Wellesley. Mass., and is vis
ited by people from all over the
world. The garden is on the side of
a terraced hill dropping away to a
beautiful little lake.
Evergreens of many kinds are to be
found there and each summer a force
of workmen with long ladders care
fully prune and trim the branches in
order to preserve the strange shapes
which have been developed with the
utmost patience.—Popular Electricity.
Use 30,000,000 Boxes.
Cigar boxes are a negligible quan
tity to the average smoker, but how
many ever stopped to think of the
number used each year or where they
come from? Thirty million is the total
supplied to the manufacturers of the
seductive weed each year. The best
boxes come from Cuba and are known
as Spanish cedar.
After the war with Spain the supply
of this wood was greatly diminished
and its price" raised, so that for a
time cigar dealers were obliged to find
a substitute for this kind of cedar.
Various woods were tried, but trou
ble was found in selling these boxes,
because connoisseurs insisted that a
fine cigar was spoiled by putting it in
any but a box made of Spanish cedar.
This wood always retains the flavor
of a good cigar. Indeed, some persons
assert that it improves the flavor. The
reason given is that it grows in the
same localities.
I
As She Is Spoke on Clyde.
The best English is said to be
spoken in Scotland—but not on the
Clyde!
A Londoner, just returned from
Scotland, sends a Daily Chronicle cor
respondent this example of Firth of
Clyde language: “Poo-pa-poo: aw-ma
noo, gaur-pa-poo.” The strange sounds
are supposed to be uttered by a wee
Macgreegor in a rowing-boat with his
parents; and the interpretation is,
“Pull, pa, pull; oh, ma, now, gaur
(make) pa pulL”
The Chinese-like exhortation is a
good companion for “Flaflaflarry”—
which is sound Glasgow tor “Fellow
fell off a lorry.”
An Analysis.
A Boston broker said the other da;
of J. Pierpont Morgan:
“We’d never have had these New
Haven troubles if Morgan had lived.
Morgan was a wonder. Whatever you
were—banker. Investor, politician—ha
could turn you instde out.
“Morgan, after a great victory, once
said to me with a grim chuckle:
“ ’The financier’s strength is other
people’s weaknesses.’ ”
From All Sides.
“Can you send a dog by parcel
post?”
“I am afraid there would be a howl
about It if you did.”
I>r. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets first put up
40 years ago. They regulate and invigorate
stomach, liver and bowels. Sugar-coated
tiny granules. Adv.
Cut and dried is the way a man feels
after a barber school student gets
through with bis complexion.
Smile on wash Bay. That’s when you use
Red Cross Ball Blue. Clothes whiter than
snow. All grocers. Adv.
Trusts are like babies—they go after
j everything in sight.
TWO WOMEN
AVOID
OPERATIONS
By Taking Lydia E. Pink
. ham’s Vegetable
Compound.
Chicago, 111. —‘ ‘I must thank you with
i all my heart for Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable. Com
pound. I used to go
to my doctor for pills
and remedies and
they did not help me.
I had headaches and
could not eat, and the
doctor claimed I had
female trouble and
must have an opera
tion. I read in the
paper about Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Veere
table (Jctt pound and I have taken it and
feel fine. A lady said one day, ‘Oh. I
feel so tired all the time and have head
ache.’ I said. ‘Take Lydia E. Pink,
ham's Vegetable Compound,’ and sho
did and feels fine now.”—Mrs. M. R.
Karschnick, 1438 N. Paulina Street,
Chicago, Illinois.
The Other Case.
tDayton, Ohio.-” LydiaE. Pimcham’s
Vegetable Compound relieved me of
pains in my side that I had for years
and which doctors’ medicines failed to
relieve. ..t has certainly saved me from
an opera-jon. I will be glad to assist
you by a personal letter to any woman
in the same condition.”—Mrs. J. W.
SHERER, 126 Cass St., Dayton, Ohio.
If you want special advice
write to Lydia JE. Pink ham Med
icine Co. (confidential) Lynn,
Mass. Tour letter will be opened,
read and answered by a woman,
and held in strict conhdencat
Neuralgia
sufftTers find instant relief in
Sloan’s Liniment. It pene
trates to the painful part—
soothes and quiets the nerves.
No rubbing—merely lay it on.
SLOANS
LINIMENT
Kills Pain
For Neuralgia
**I mould not be without roar Lini
ment and praise it to all who aufTer
with neuralgia or rheumatism or pain of
any k nd."—Mrs. Henry Bishop. Helena.
Missouri.
Pain AD Goan
"I suffered with quite a severe neu
ralgic headache for 4 months without
any relief. I used your Liniment for
two or three nights and I haven't suf
fered with my head since-’’—Mr. J. R.
Strings r. Louisville, Ky.
Truatmeots for Cold and Croup
‘Mj littlo girl, twelve years old,
caught a severe cold, arid I gave her
three drops of Sloan's Liniment on sugar
on goiug to bed. and she got up in the
morni ig with no signs of a cold. A lit
tle boy next door had croup and I gave
the mother the Liniment. She-gave him
three drops on going to bed, and he got
up without the croup in the morning.''
— Mr. W. H. Strange. Chicago. Ill
At all Dealers. Priee JSc., 50c. sad SUM
Sloan's Book on Horses sent free.
Address
DR. EARL 1 SLOAN, Inc., Boston, Mass.
W.L.DOUGLAS
SHOES
Men'sil:gg!21°&&V
Women's &<§?-? U[
Misses. nojfS,Chll<Jren|
$1.50 SI.75$2S2.60S3f
Btflon BmImu In I M
1870; now the! ^HB
largest manor of 1 X*
7^ 93,M.50.f4.1 i"
»]5/ aoo $4.50 oKoooX^hSl
t.jW In tho world. VHlS
f 01,006,279^
imfu* hum* a II1J om 1IU.
I TbUle the reason »» give you the
| aame value* tor *3.00. *3.50. *4.00
3 and *4.50 noiwltbe'andiiic tbe
3a enormou* locreaae In tbe met ot
leather. Our etandardi Dave
\ not been lowered and tbe price
h>r j toyouremalneibeeame.
■R. Aak your dealer to *bow you
tbe kind of W. L Douglae aboee be
leeaUln* l»r *3 00. *3?K>, *4.03 and
M.S0. You will then be eoovlnoed
that W.L.Doualae eboe* are abeo
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\ Djeber price*. Tbe only dlltaraoee
1*U HO SUBSTITUTE.
IwmnitUoitV.Ltailu'uiH
•UB*a« mi tka kattaa. If wTUDottgiu
l •k°** •>* k°* tor aala la jour atciattr. older
I direct Iron factory. 8hoar for rrrrr ncmbar
k at tka fknlljr at all pricaa, poataia *aa.
Wv Wrtta for Ulaalratad catalog ahowtng haw
aj towdarbjm.lu W. E. DOUQLAE,
