Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 84: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A DASH FOR A THRONE. 77 “Tam Heinrich Fischer, an actor—now,” I replied. The last word was quite enough, and the tough old man almost broke down in the delight of recognition. When I explained to him the elaborate processes by which I had changed my figure, looks and voice, he grew in- tensely interested in me as a strange experiment, and declared that not a soul in all the worid would recognize me. My visit was brief, though he pressed me to stay with him; and when I would not, he said he would come to me, and that I must be his adopted son. But he never came, and we never met again. A letter or two passed between us—lI had altered even my handwriting—and then, a year later, came the news that he was dead, and that I was left his heir. This again changed my life, for his fortune gave me abundant means, and as I considered my actor training had been sufficient, I resolved .to close that chapter of my life. It would have been a commonplace affair enough, with an accompaniment of nothing more than a few mutual personal regrets, but for one incident. One of the actresses, a handsome, passionate woman, named Clara Weylin. had done me the quite unsolicited honor to fall violently in love with me; and when at the time of parting I could not tell her that we should ever meet again —for I had not the least intention or wish to do so—she was first tearful, then hysterical, and at last vindictively menacing. ‘“There’s a secret about you, Fischer,” she cried passionately. “ I’ve always thought so; and mark me, I’ll find it out some day; and then you'll remember this, and your treatment of Clara Weylin. Look to yourself.” I tried to reason away her somewhat theatrical resentment, but she inter- preted my words as an indication that she had struck home, and she flung away with a toss of the head, another threat, and a look of bitter anger. I thought no more of the incident then—though afterwards I had occasion enough to recall it—and when the evening brought me a letter from her couched in very loving terms, I tossed it into the fire with a feeling akin to contempt. The next morning I left the town early, and was off on a pur- poseless and once more planless ramble. _ With the stage I dropped also my stage name; for I had no wish to be known as an ex playactor; and as the old doctor’s original counsel chanced to occur to me, I turned English. I now let my bear and mustache grow, and I -vas satisfied that with my changed carriage and looks, not a soul in the whole Fatherland would recog- nize in Henry Fisher, a sober looking English gentleman, traveling for pleas ure and literary purposes, the once well known Count von Rudloff. I moved from point to point aimlessly for some months until the vapid, vacuous monotony of the existence sickened and appalled me. Then suddenly chance or fate opened a gate of life. CHapreR II.—A GATE oF LIFE. I was droning in the small Rhine town, Hamnel, close to Kehl, and struck up a casual acquaintance with a man of about my own age. named Von From- GOGO CO