THE COURIER.
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after excitement. But Tradutorri holds
back her suffering within herte!f; the
suffers at the Push and blood women of
Aer century cuffer. She is intense
without being emotional. She takes
this gteat anguish of hers and
IJayp it in a tomb and rolls a
ctcne before the door and walls
vt up. You wonder that cne woman's
fceart can bold a grief fo great. It is
a hie stifled pain that wiiDgs your heart
or ben .you hear her, that gives jou the
1HMfinInn of hcrrible reality. It is
4b3, too, of which she is slowly dying
'See, in all great impersonation there
sare two stages. One in which object is
tho generation of emotional power; to
produce from one's own brain E whirl
vied that will sweep the commonplaces
tf the world away from the naked souls
of taen and wosses and leave them de
iVofeless and straage to each other. The
otb r is the conservation of all this
aotional energj ; to bind the whirlwind
-down wi hiri one's straining heart, to
feel the tear? of many burning in one's
jei and yet not weep, to hold all these
chaotic faces sttll and silent within one's
arif BBtil out of this tempest of pain and
Mnioo there tpeaks the still, small
voice unto the soul of man. This is the
"thejrjr of "repression." This is cla-sical
art, art exalted, art dciried. And of all
fci mighty artiste of hertimeTraiutorri
3a the only woman who has given us art
'ike this. And now she is dying of it,
they say.
Nanette was undoing Madame's shoes.
Sbe had put the mail silently on the
writiBg desk. .She had not given It to
fcer bforo the performance as there waa
aeof thore blue letters from Madame's
musbaad, written in as unsteady band
with the postmark of Monte Carlo,
-which always made Madame weep and
-were alwaB answered by large drafts.
TZheie was also another from Madame's
little crippled daughter hidden away in
convent in Italy.
"I will see to my letters presently,
37aaette. With me news is generally bad
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news. I wish to speak with you to-night.
We leave New York in two days, and the
glancesjof this signor statuesque of yours
is more than I can endure. I feel a
veritable wiere Capulet."
"Has he dared to look impertinently at
Madame? I will see that this is
stopped.'
"You think that you could be really
happy with this man, Nanette?"
Nanette was sitting upon the floor
with the flowers from Madame's corsage
in her lap. She rested her sharp little
chin on her hand.
'Is any one really happy, Madame?
But this I know, that I could endure to
be very unhappy alwajs to be with him.'
Ber saucy little French face grew grave
and her lips trembled.
Madame Tradutorri took her hand
tenderly.
Then if vou feel like that I have noth
ing to say. How strange this should
come to you, Nanette; it never has to
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RETAIL STORE -102S
0 STREET.
&uch5taff Bs.. M& . Makers.
me. Listen: Your mother and I were
friends once when we both sang in
the chorus in a miserable little theatre
in Naples. She sang quite as well as I
then, and she was a handsome girl and
her future looked brighter than mine.
But somehow in the strange lottery of
art I rose and she went under with the
wheel. She bad youth, beauty, vigor,
but was one of the countless thousands
who fail. When 1 found her years after
ward, dying in a charity hospital in
Paris, I took you from her. You were
scarcely ten years old then. If you had
sung I should have given you the bet
instruction; as it was 1 was only able to
save you from that most horrible of
fates, the chorus. I ou have been with
me 6o long. Through all my troubles
you were the one person who did not
change toward me. Tou have become
indispensable to me, but I am no longer
so to you. I have inquired as to the
reputation of this sigcor of jours
from the proprietors o! the house
and I find it excellent. Ah. Nanette, did
you really think 1 could stand between
joy and happiness? You have been a
good girl, Nanette. You have etajed
with me when wo did not stop at hotels
like this one. and when your wages were
not paid you for weeks together."
"Madame, it is yo u who have been
good! Always giving and giving to a
poor girl like me with no voice at all.
You know that I would cot leave you
for any thing in the world but thTs."
"Are you sure you can be happy so?
Think what it means! No more music,
no more great parsonages, no more
plunges from winter to lummer in a
single night, no more RuBsia, no more
Paris, no more Italy. Just a little houee
somewhere in a strange country with a
man who may have faults of his own,
and perhaps little children growing up
about you to be cared for always. You
have been used to changes and money
and excitement, and those habits of life
are hard to change, my girl.'
"Madame, you know how it is. One
sees much and stops at the best hotels
and goes to the be6t milliners and yet
one is not happy, but a stranger always.
That is, I mean"
"Yes, 1 know too well what you mean.
Don't spoil it now you have said it. And
yet one is not happy! You will' not be
lonley, you think, all alone in this big
strange city, so far from our world?"
"Alone! Why, Madam 8, Arturo is
here!"
Tradutorri looked wistfully at her
shining face.
"How strange that this should come
to you, Nanette. Be very happy in it,
dear. Let nothing come between you
and it; no desire, no ambition. It is not
given to everyone. There are women
who wear crowns who would give them
for an hour of it"
"O, Madame, if I could but see you
happy before I leave you."
"Hush, we will not speak of that.
When the fiowere thrown me in my
youth shall live again, or when the dead
crater of my own mountain shall be red
once more then, perhaps. Now go and
tell your lover that the dragon has re
nounced her prey."
"Madam, I rebel against this loveless
life of yours! You shall bj hippy
Surely with so much else you should at.
least have that."
Tradutc ri pulled up from her dress
ing case fie last great opera written in
Europe which had been sent her to
originate the title role.
"You see this, Nanette? When I be
gan life, between me and this lay every
thing dear in life every love, every
human hope. I have had to bury what,
lay between. It iB tht same thing florists
do when they cut away all the buds
that one flower may blossom with the
strength of all. God iB a very merciless
aitist, and when he works out his pur
poses in tbe flesh his chisel does not falter.
But no more of this, my child. Go find
your lover. I shall undress alone to
night. I roust g-t used to it. Good
night, my dear. You are the last of
them all, the last of all who have brought
warmth into my Hf. You must let me
kiss you to night. No, not that way
on the lips. Such a Lappy face to-night
Nane" te. May it. be so always!'
After Nanette was gone Madame put
her head down on the dressing case and
wept, thore lonely tsars of utter wretch
edness that a homesick girl sheds at
school. And yet upon her brow shown
the coronet that the nations had given
her when they called her queen. From
the Home Magazine.
CURED
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It is but the truth to say that hund
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If you are interested address for par
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Agent Northwestern Line, 117 South
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BURLINGTON ROUTE
CARDS.
PLAYING
Those elesrant cards of thn vrv haf
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0 Henry M. Bartli.
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