Sks!'t7ifi!eSV &$&$&&'& IfWljSp
'finp- -v IgVffBC
laeS"
14
THE COURIER
C
h"
I r
, Jf
ATHEfoSTANB'S folVING PICTURE
And How it Broke the Ice.
THERE was just the faintest suspicion of discontent in Miss
Marian Delury's superb black eyes as she dreamily contem
plated her exquisite face and her halt-draped figure in the
fall length oval pit mirror. It was an insufferably hot night and
she had regretted for the thousandth time her self denial in consent
tag to keep the big town house open while her mamma, the dashing
and ever youthful widow Delury, made a flying trip across the
water to look after some rather shaky Russian railroad securities
that her Paris agent seemed to be juggling with to very little pur
pose. On her return mother and daughter were to make their annual
summer pilgrimage together to Newport, which would be consola
tion. But for the present faugh! Miss Delury s red lips parted in
something like a sneer of contempt as she noted the tiny beads of
dewlike perspiration that glistened amid the down of her satiny
cheeks and her faultlessly turned neck and shoulders.
Miss Delury had inherited much of her mother's spirit of self-reliance
and all of her ability to charm. She was the type of young
woman known by the connaisseur in such matters as "fine.' One
result of her twenty-four years of cloudless existence had been the
development of a figure that in girlhood had been a miracle of grace
into present absolute perfection. And that, possibly, was one of the
reasons why she sighed softly as she regarded her own dazzling
beauty in that oral mirror to-night.
In this pulsating, end-of-the-century young woman two emotions
were rather strongly developed one of them a perfect recognition
of the power and splendor of her own charms; the other, her love for
Arthur Athelstane, the very handsome and well-bred youth of whom
the daily newspapers invaribly syoke as "the rising young lawyer.'
As for the first, what of it? A beautiful woman that does not
know she is beautiful is either blind or a fool. As for the second,
what beautiful woman ever lived to the age of twenty-four without
knowing the joy of an attachment for some fortunate man at some
time or other? No; in these two respects the statuesque Miss De
lary was distinctly in line with the times and tradition as well. But
the discontent? Ah, that was another matter.
Her teeth glimmered through the rosebud curves of her lips in the
ghost of a smile as she thought of the triumphs that awaited her
presently down there by the sea. But then she sighed again. That,
alas! was becoming an old story now. She had grown quite accust
omed to the double row of masculino spectators that lined the 'beach
and vainly strove to conceal their admiration as she walked, dripping
like a naiad, out of the water. Still the memory was not disagree
able. It was pleasant to think of a lot of handsome fellows, eligible
partis almost every one of them, simply transfixed with delight at
even the semi-delineation of her glorious proportions revealed by her
mermaid's attire. Still, what a few of them there were and how
poor their opportunities when one thought of soma of the women of
the stage and their costumes, or lack of them.
Miss Delury sighed again, smiling dreamily and prepared to retire.
"No," she reflected, "I will not call Susanne. Even the presence of
one's maid, not to speak of her chatter, would add to the heat of this
room. Besides, I do not need her."
She extinguished the wax tapers and proceeded to disrobe by the
moonlight that, filtering in through the branches of the tall trees in
the Square, covered the polished floor with a glittering arabesque of
silver. If a Uenner could have viewed her as she stood presently in
the white rays before the mirror, with the inky cascade of her tress
es accentuating, if such a tbing were possible, the marvelous purity
of her marble shoulders, the result would have been a canvas before
which ages would have bowed down from the day of its creation till
the crack of doom.
With a petulant movement she threw herself on her knees by the
open window and, placing her round white arms upon the sill, rested
her chin upon them and gazed dreamily out into the sweltering
might, the moonlight shining down on the snowy draperies and the
little pink toes that caressed the oaken floor. After five minutes of
reverie, she suddenly started to her feet with the light of a new and
brilliant idea sparkling in her glittering black orbs. Her lips parted
and her bosom heaved. "Upon my word I've j mind to do it," she
awn red breathlessly.
The next iaataat she had draws the Venetian blinds close, relight
ed the tapers aad eseiateaesd aerib&iag a aote oa a-sheet of paper
from which she carefully clipped the Delury family crest. Soon
after she crept into bed and fell asleep with a smile of full content
playing over her delicate features. And among the silver-topped
scent-bottles and other dainty litter of her dressing-table lay a square
envelope, addressed to a leading theatrical manager.
Mr. Arthur Athelstane's passion for Miss Marian Delury if -so
extremely calm and well regulated a young gentleman could harbor
a sentiment sufficiently strong to deserve the name, was well it was
the love of a lawyer, and it was as warm in its way as the love of a
man that spends his life among mouldy parchments and in dingy
court-rooms, where the only human emotions on exhibition are those
of the unfortunate clients can ever be. He loved the young woman
sincerely, devotedly, and meant to win her for his wife if he could.
So well did he manage to keep his emotions in check that he had
not learned how dear he was to her. For ho was really a splendid
looking fellow, and if he had given her the smallest provocation
but he did not; and Miss Delury had often told herself that the only
thing Arthur lacked to make him an ideal lover was an occasional
exhibition of ardor that should prove him .to be a creaturo of flesh
and blood and not an irreproachably correct block of ice. And she
had vowed that until she had satisfied herself, by whatever means
that this well-bred reserve could be melted on provocation, she
would remain Marian Delury yes, if she had to do so till Dooms
day. The Widow Delury was expected home in five days and Arthur
and Marian were discussing the proper ways and means of receiving
her, when the young woman suddenly changed the subject. "Arthur,"
she said blithely, "why don't you take me to the Jupiter Theatre to
see the living pictures?"
With an effort the lawyer repressed a temptation to blush. "I
V he stammered, "I do not think it would be exactly the thing, you
know."
"Oh, you don't," pouted the girl, mimicking his tone, "and why not
pray? Don't you know that in the summer everyone allows the
proprieties to droop a little? We resume our good behavior with
the autumn. And why should'nt you take me anywhere where you
go yourself, I should like to know?"
"I never go anywhere wh'ere I should be ashamed to take you,"
was the young man's sturdy reply.
"Do you mean to tell me that you haven't been to see the living
pictures yourself ?'
"I may be the only man in New York that can say it," answered
Athelstane, coldly, "but I most certainly have not'
"Then all 1 can say is," rejoined the maiden, laughing, "that you
appear to have missed a good deal. Don't you read the papers?"
"I only read what my secretary marks for me each morning. He
knows what will interest me and what will not"
"Oh! then he did'nt mark any of the extravagant praises of the
beauty of Mile. Beatrice Delacroix?"
"And who is Mile. Delacroix?" -
"According to the newspapers she is the only perfectly formed
woman in existence. Why, they've done nothing but rave about
her ever since she made her appearance. JuBt listen to this." And
picking up the evening paper she proceeded to read:
The attraction at the Jupiter continues to consist of Mr. Ted
Fleshleighs array of living pictures. And, if one may be pardoned
for repeating a verdict already often expressed, one must in candor
admit that the picture, "Venus on the Halfshell," in which Mile.
Beatrice Delacroix poses as the figure, is enough to stun the senses
of the beholder with its beauty. Artists agree that the equal of
MJIo. Delacroix's figure was never before seen in any age, and the
-xho'e towrl weeps at the thought that it may never be again. She
XsiserleapJ incomparable. eta, etc etc.
"Tbe " snapped the beautiful girl rather spitefully, "of course I
know you would'nt take me, but I should'nt think that any man
would care to miss the opportunity of seeing the only perfect woman
in existence.
Athelstane left soon afterward and Miss Delury went to her cham
ber in a rather tired frame of mind. Having carried out her rather
daring scheme of securing an engagement (under an assumed name
of course,) at the Jupiter, theatre, she was, curiously enough, only
partially satisfied with her success. True, the sight of her, as she
lay night after night in the huge make-believe shell on the sandy
beach in the "picture," soposed a point on which she had insisted
with the manager so as to turn her face completely away from the
audience, she had quite taken the town by storm. The papers, as
4
'7
-'
1
v
&.
-v.-
dfeje
rgjSra5"fe? to-.
' f --
.. -- VI
- i TI-W&
fc'Vi
.
..-JWjSjb
il -t .r...f .
