The Argosy — page 246: what you’re looking at

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

Among Untrodden Ways. 229 Her father would be kind to her, that was some comfort. Well I knew that his threat to her was empty. Ill. PURSUING my sad and apparently hopeless search for my princess, when recurring holidays freed me for a time from the practice of the law, I found myself in Paris, a few years later, at Easter. Hope still dwelt in me, for that Amie lived I felt convinced ; and surely in such a love as ours there must be a magnetism which sooner or later would draw our divided lives together. At that time all Paris was talking of ‘* Théodora,” and one evening, finding myself near the Porte St. Martin Theatre, I entered, taking such a seat as remained at that hour. I paid but little attention to the play, but, closing my eyes, listened to the soft music of Sarah Bernhardt’s voice. Those gentle tones recalled another voice to me. It was after the scene where Marcellus chose death rather than betray his fellow-conspirators, that a young Frenchman near me remarked to his companion : “But they are droll people, these conspirators—they hate and are hated, they love and are loved. Ma foi! one would do well to bea conspirator, to be wept for by such eyes as those of sweet Belinski.” ‘“ Does she still go to her father’s grave?” asked the other. I began to listen intently. “Sans doute—it 1s every day you will see her with her bonne at Pere la Chaise.” ‘“When she marries, all that will cease.” “Marries, did you say? You do not know, then, that she has refused half Paris ?” ‘“‘Ts it a prince, then, that Mademoiselle awaits ? ” This sarcastically. “Ah, yes!” I said within myself; ‘and the prince has come with the kiss that is to awaken the sweet princess!” My pulses beat wildly. Then came a shadow of fear. This might not be Amie. The Emperor Justinian and Théodora were now in the Royal ‘loge,’ and the awful scene, though different, recalled that night when she and I had been torn asunder—but I, unlike Andréas, lived ; then why not Amie also? Need I say that next morning I was early at Pere la Chaise. I stood on the rising ground near the tomb of Béranger, where I could take a survey of the whole. How long the time seemed! Yet before twelve I saw a girl of about twenty, dressed in black, carrying fresh spring flowers in her hands, and beside her was a bonne who seemed to be trying to cheer her. That first day when I had seen her I was standing by her mother’s grave. I was hatin hand beside her father’s as she approached it now, with eyes cast down. Oh, how glorious is beauty when pathos shadows it! How did I note each change in the dear features? She COMMICOOOKS.c©