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The Fatal Prediction.1

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The Fatal Prediction. 1 Berthier's Second Marriage and I Its Tragic Sequel. In 1869, at the end of the Empire, a young taan was seated in a kind of attic in the Roe Verte, Fanboarg St. Honore. In front of him, seated opon a chair, was the mistress of this dwelling. She was a woman advanced in years, with the real face of a sorceress. ID- truth she was a "chiromancienne," the name given to those who foretell future events by reading the hands of the olients who come to consult them. The young man was holding out his right hand, and the old woman had the air of read- ing it as a banker reads his notes. Suddenly she stopped in her examination, looked her visitor in the eyes, and said with an air of £ lBK>iratkm: ^Listen Listen to me and answer t" &2 will, madam." CY ou are a widower.' •fr.Xt is true." •|^S}nce six months." r' Yes, madam." You are rich." I have enough." 'A minion and a half." "That is the amount of my fortune." c. You have no connections in the world." "None at all." f. Very well, monsieur. Take heed of what teounsel lou-never marry again." Here the visitor could not help changing coIOOt"- ordinarily pale, he became pallid, jlfot marry again! Tip to this hour, since the loss of his wife, he had never thought of such j » thing, but he was still young—just entering this thirtieth year. What could prevent his (forming a second allianoe if he chose to later Ion ? Perhaps the interdiction so brusquely ;formulated by the sorceress irritated some jMpret desire hitherto hidden in the depths of Ilia heart. He was seized with a feeling of revolt. "Not marry again he said quiokly. "Why not 11" "Because the lines of your hand oppose it, monsieur," But if I take no notice of it, madame ?" If you do not obey the oracle," replied she, xpeaking as if she were at a loss for words, .s well, great misfortune will come to you He was not satisfied, and demanded that she should tell him more, at the same time showing her a piece of gold." U That would only be thrown away," the chiromancienne said. If you were to offer me half your fortune I could not tell you another syllahle." She rose from her chair, as if to jet him un- derstand that the seance was at an end. In spite of himself he was compelled to take his dismissal. Throwing a Jonis on thp mantel- piece, he bowed and descended the stairs. Weil, it is strange," said he, as ISO em as be I fdund himself in the street again. It is im- possible to get that old woman out of my head, with her threats and enigmatical tallc; bet it was equally ridiculous for one of my age and situation to come and ask an old mad woman about future events. It was a folly that can only be ascribed to a weak mind." As he reached the Avenue Martigny, which leada to the Champs Klysees, feeling himself still a. little shaken, he stopped a moment to regain coolness and to find an excuse for his /cjlly in consulting the sorceress at all. He found it in things that he beard when recently Attending a smree at the Tu-kish ambis- wulor's- Among thl' guests tlwrt" were several grand dames who had put a1! sorts of extrava- gances in fashion. Superstitious t., excess, these pretty simpletons professed to believe in nothing, yet in trnth bad faith in every- thing. Each of them wore as a watch charm a little pitchfork of coral to keep off the evil eye, and regulated their conduct from what they learned by drawing the cards. They had heard of the chiromancienne of Kue Verte, and that she was endowed with the gift of second sight. One day the Empress herself and the Princess Aletternich had gone to con- ;.ult her and returned with their heads full of tthe most astonishing things »he had told them. From that time on her reputation was established. She, the tiorceress of the Fau- bourg St. Honore, was as famous as Hone, the spiritualist. Now, in the run of success, everybody in .-the fashionable world wanted to consult her, )f only for five minutes. Our young man 'had but followed the example of the grand dames. Tony Berthier w»s tall, thin, and decidedly distingue in appearance. He was also rich, and could walk side by side with the most f elegant of that epoch, renowned for its osten- tatious style of living and dress. After the dealh (,( bis wife—she left no children—he bad to begin his youth, so to speak, when he had nearly reaohed the autumn of life. But he was an idler, and seeing the world to keep from dying of ennui was almost a duty with him. In leaving him a great for- tune his parents, following the French fashion, thought it would derogate from his position to learn any kind of business. What need has a millionaire of doing anything? It is enbuga that he takes the tronble to exist. So Berthier went home to breakfast. He I fared sumptuously, as a rich bachelor usually does. 4 Several of the daily journals were lying under his hand. To help him to pass the time he unfolded them one after another. They all related to what was passing in the gilded world of Paris, and the world of Paris at the end of the Second Empire was filled with anudal. At the houses of the nobility even you could hear of nothing but husbands who left their wives before the marriage was fairly concluded; of lovers demanding that ties be annulled: of engagements broken. it was "clear the deck," and a general helter-skelter on all sides. Ah, well," said Berthier, sipping his pine- apple ice. 11 this is a pretty time we are living in! The old sorceress was right. Instead of grumbling at her, I should send her a diamond I with my thanks. If I should not marry again shehas rendered me a service." n. lit a cigar and started for a walk on the Boulevards, going first to the Ma3eleine,then to the Boulevard des Italiens, and then back to the Madeleine. He was like a squirrel in a cagè. Restless and bored, he tried the club, and from there to the Bouffe3 Parisiens, where they were giving an opera by Offenbach. But there he yawned, and determined, as a last retort, to go to bed. "To-day resembles yesterday," he said, I "to-morrow will resemble to-day. If we had iome stirring event." One day at the olub he was talking in this way when someone—a journaHst—bruaque!y interrupted him. You want a stirring event, monsieur ? Wait, you will have it." What is it you say ?" said Berthier. Nothing is plainer, monsieur. The war is coming. We are going to measure our strength with Prussia. 1 have foreseen it for tefc months. But what does it matter ? It will do us no harm to have a little fight with our neighbours. You will see," said the journalist, as be went away, ';war with Prussia." Tony Berthier, like all the young French- men of his time, saw it from a distance as only another name for victory, accompanied by rolling and sounding trumpets, and deco- rated with flags, laurels, and flowers. He heard already the obime of bells and the soogs of trinmpb. Ala! how seen these illusions were dissipated The bravest soldiers in the world cannot conquer when their oom- manders are both treacherous and incompe- tent. with beautiful Paris, the capital of the world, surrendered. • • • « » • Berthier was brave, and he loved his country. He went to th" Loire and joined a company of rifleman as soon as the invader same. He did his nety nobly, and was many times decorated for his bravery before the enemy. At last, in an engagement, at Mars, he was severely wounded and sent to the hospital. It was months after that be returned to fans. The terrible days of the Commune 1 had come. The city was filled with blood, tears, and grief. All the horror of the civil war was before him, and he oould still see I the smoke of the guns that Frenchmen had trained upon Frenohmen. In the midst of this tempest of ferocious passions he could not understand which side was right—which was wrong. "Let them blame me if they like," said Perthier. I will have nothing to^io with it. What have 1 to do with their quarrels ? I am rich; I am well established. 1, will be an egotist and take my ease." This was in May. One afternoon in July of the same year Berthier deaerted the Made- leine—too many political memories assailed him there-and went to smoke his cigar in the Tuileries garden. It was brilliant with verdure and flowers. Paris was gradaaHy taking up again her habits of elegance and leisure. If it had not been for the papers, which every evening brought echoes from Versailles, where the National Assembly was convened, oue could have thought the events of that terrible year the parts of a horrible but far off dream. The theatres and the museums were open again, and people of all distinction were returning one after another. "After our unfortunate wars," said the great Conde, our only resource is to return to our loves." Paris, without knowing it, was obeying the precepts of the conqueror of Rocroy. Berthier lounged along the Alley of Leaves, oame to the Place de la Concorde, descended the steps, and in sheer idleness wandered around the grand fountain. He sought relief from his loneliness, but go where he would he oould not find It, though everything about bim was of a nature to distraot his thoughts. As yet there were no public concerts as before the war, but promenaders and elegant toilets had begun to show in greater numbers. At this moment Berthier saw a young woman seated alone and thoughtful before the statute of Meleagre. He regarded her at first with euriosity, and then kept his eyea upon her as if a strange charm had captivated him. She was tall, fair, and elegantly dressed, and appeared to be about thirty years of age. Her costume was somewhat severe in style, as was proper for a person well born, after the great disasters of the past year. On her black hat was a tuft of purple plumes and a veil of black lace, and she bad black gloves and parasol. Beltbier approached a little nearer, the better to see her face. She was very hand- some her face was pale, but lighted by a pair of great blue eyes. A few steps off he found the old woman who rented the chairs. "i'o you know that young lady?" be asked. No, monsieur; I know she comes to the garden nearly every day at the same hour and L have been told that she is a widow, which is evident from her dress." Widow ? said the idler widows are always the most fascinating of women." He threw a silver pi<;ce into the hand of the old woman to pay for her information, and continued his walk. At the end of twenty minutes he returned to the terrace, hoping to see the beautiful unknown again, but she had disappeared. "I will return to-morrow," thought he. The next day, as soon as he had finished breakfast, Berthier burned to the walk near the statue of the Mealeagre "Hbe is there," he cried, his heart beating with joy. "How can I explain this feeling which has taken possession of me ?' Am 1 not a madman? Here is a woman whom I ba\'e only seen twice—a perfect stranger to me—and yet I am so infatuated with her that t think of nothing else Monsieur cried the chair renter, run- ning towards him, quickened by the hope of another piece of silver, 1 have information of the beautiful lady—shall I ten yon Yes; ¡¡peak!" replied Berthier. Well, monsieur, she is about. 30 years old, and in a modest but independent, position. Her name is Clelia Puvremy, and she is the widow of a colonel of the Commune of last May. H.r husband, having been taken with amis in his hands, was shot here on this ter- race in front of that statue, and she comes here every day to pass a half hoar at the same place." Hold, madame Here is money for you said Berthier, and he hid hnnself among the trees. Thus the" stirring event" for which he had longed mingled with his love adventure. This beautiful woman was the widow of a colonel of the insurrectionists. He no longer wondered at thu purple plumbs and the black veil. But why did she come every day to visit thrspot whtre her husband was shot ? I It is evident that she loved the man. Can I hope to make her love me?" he askp.d him- self. Then he remembered the episode of the Rue Verte, and the pr^tiction and warning of the sorceress- But although he resolved to think no mrre of his present folly, he came every day to the garden of the Tmiieries in spite of himself, and each time he saw Clelia Puyremy and loved her more and more. One day he could contain himself no longer; he managed to speak to her through the old chair-renter, and a friendly acquaintance began between them. Tony Berthier bad at last found a cure for his ennui. A little later they were married at the Church of St. Koch, the window having obtained from the oliicial bureau a certificate of the death of her husband. And the prediction of the sorceress ?" said | some one as they came out of the church. Ah, that was a fine joke—for who would believe in such nonsense ? It was sai l there was never a happier union than that of Berthier and Clelia. In 1877 a little girl was born and the mother thought of the marriage to the Colonel of the Commune as only a dark dream. Three years rolled by; 1880 came, and in July of that year the armistice. Summer and autumn passed, and one morning at the be- ginning of winter Clelia was alone arranging her music. Suddenly a servant entered and said a man poorly dressed asked to speak to IVlme. Berthier. Let him enter," said she, carelessly. Tho visitor was Colonel Puyreiny, her first husband. Contrary to all that, had been told, he had not been shot, but had been thrown upon the pontoons of Brest and afterwards carried to Isew Caledonia. Profiting by the armistice, he bad returned and was there to clhim his wife. He did not want money—he wanted his wife. Clelia did not try to struggle with the fatality which had so cru-lly met her. She left her litfle girl and a note of explanation for Berthier and went away for ever. She fulfilled what she thought to be her duty. That day Berthier was hunting in the environs of Paris. On his return he found the note. He read it again and again, and in a moment of despair he blew out his brains. The prediction of the sorceress had been verified !—Exchange,

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