LUCRECIA.
��199
��LUCRECIA.
��FROM THE FRENCH.
��BY F. W. R.
��(CONCLUDED.)
��One evening, several months later, while the Countess was awaiting her reception hour, carelessly reclining up- on a divan, her eyes half closed, and her hand in that of her lover, a servant entered and handed her a large letter of official appearance. Lucrecia open- ed it and turned ghastly pale.
" What is it. darling? What is the matter?" cried Marcel.
" Nothing, merely a chill."
She grasped the letter and walked hurriedly several times up and down the room. Marcel, uneasy, followed her, without daring to question her a second time. Suddenly she threw her- self into his arms, and pressed him to her heart with all her strength, covering his face with kisses. This excitement gave Marcel a presentiment of misfor- tune, but just as he was about to ques- tion her further the first guests arrived.
The Countess swept away all traces of agitation. She was more brilliant than ever ; she sang songs of courage, and threw into them all her verve and talent. One would have said that she wished to enchant, once more, this court of which she was the queen, and give Capellani a full understanding of her worth.
She announced later that she left for her vineyard next morning, and as they were astonished at this, she added, —
" Oh ! it is only for a few days, a very few days."
They wished her a pleasant trip, and each took his leave as usual. She pressed the hands of her old friends warmly and repeatedly, and she em- braced the Marquise, saying, " Good by ! good by !"
��Tosinghi came among the others, but more sadly than usual ; the brilliant gayety of Lucrecia had hurt him. As he was going he was struck by a deep, questioning glance which she threw at him.
" Come to-morrow at ten," said she in a courageous tone, " I have a ser- vice to ask of you."
Never had Capellani found her so tender and so passionate as the next morning, when she spoke to him of going to the country.
" Are you not tired of this noisy life ?" she said. " Are you not wearied by these continual ovations ? Oh ! for our quiet love in the solitude of the mountains, our careless rambles in the fields ! Come, let us make the most of the last days of autumn. Who knows if we shall ever see spring ! Marcel, my well beloved, I want to drink again the long, deep draughts of love ; I want to throw off these silks and diamonds which stifle me, and lean upon your arm dressed in muslin ; to run through the grass in the olive fields ; to feel the cool shade of our grotto in the moun- tains, where we passed the happiest days of our lives. My God ! if we could never enjoy again such happi- ness ! If some archangel, with sword of fire, were to appear before us, as before the gates of paradise ! Come ! come quickly ! Let us not lose these days of liberty."
Marcel, delighted by these loving words, listened with beating heart. Once, a somber presentiment crossed his mind, but he rejected it ; besides he did not dare mar this picture of happiness by a cruel thought.
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