SEALED LIPS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 186, 1 December 1900, Page 3 (Supplement)

SEALED LIPS.

INTRODUCTION.

Chapters I. —V. record the triumph of Antoine Godefroid, the composer, on the production of "Constantin X 11.," and his meeting after the opera with Patrice O'Farrell, a protege of his who had for a considerable number of years been absent from France. Godefroid early in life had been given his chance by Countess O'Farrell, and when his benefactress died ruined he ha^ attained a sufficiently affluent position to take charge of the orphan Patrice. Jenny Sauval, who had brilliantly sustained the leading role in "Constantin X 11.," owed her position entirely to Godefroid. The idea of Madame Sauval, and the objective for which she schemed, was that her beautiful daughter should marry the brilliant, if middle-aged, composer. Patrice becomes acquainted with Madame Sauval and her daughter, and almost simultaneously receives unpleasant evidence of the poor health of his friend, and the short span of life that is left to him. CHAPTERS VI., VII., VIII.—The first meeting of Patrice and Jenny shows that there is an affinity between the two, and the first signs of jealousy on the part of Godefroid are noticeable. Patrice, discovering, as he believes, affectionate relations between Jenny and .Godefroid, vulgarly speaking-, goes on the spree. Strained relations with Godefroid are thefollowing day, in a measure, smoothed over, and Patrice agrees to live with his friend. CHAPTERS IX. and X.—An opportunity offers for Patrice to render a considerable service to Jenny. He avails himself of the occasion to put in words the passion that already possesses him. Godefroid, excited to a frenzied exhibition of jealousy, confesses his love for the beautiful opera star to Patrice. His passionate outburst brings on a bad attack of his disease, and he is confined to bed for several weeks. Madame Sauval is his constant attendant, and it is only when she is in the house that Patrice is able to leave his friend's bedside. CHAPTER Xl.—ln the Jardin d'Acclimation, Patrice accidentally meets Jenny, and the strength of his devotion becomes more than ever apparent. CHAPTERS XII. and Xlll.—Madame Sauval is constantly with Godefroid during his convalescence, and the result is a proposal to Jenny through her. Jenny's answer is "No."' but on Madame Sauval coming to deliver it to the still weak composer, Patrice, recognising that its effect will be serious, probably fatal, insists on her saying it is "Yes;" or at least temporising. Patrice goes to interview Jenny.

CHAPTEK XIV. A NOBLE SACRIFICE. Always accustomed to submit to her mother's iron will, Jenny ■ had early assumed the habit of resignation, recompensing herself in her secret soul by an invisible but proud revolt against persons and events. This melancholy which her countenance so often expressed, and which was mistaken by people for proud disdain, came from this cause, a<? well as her half smile, which seemed but an attempt. How could she smile? Her youth had given her none of those joys that she had hoped for as due in hen life. In her artistic career, embraced from necessity, not taste, Mademoiselle Sauval had found numberless trials to her delicate nature. All the attractive side of theatre life that she had heard so much about- were without savour for her, the same as an imprisoned bird, to whom the choicest grain can- i not replace the fresh, free air. | To really understand the state of her mind one single word suffices—she waited. For .the young, still ignorant of the long trials of life, resignation is-only a kind of waiting. But from the date that Patrice O'Farrell first appeared before her eyes, waiting took a form, a name, and very soon a, voice for her. At last those •words that she had dreamed of hearing addressed to her, not under a stifling mask at the theatre, but by a man, had been said. This profound tenderness, this charming respect, like a song breathed at the foot of a balcony, this murmured admiration so little' like the green-room madrigals, all seemed to Jenny like the delicious preface to a book that she hoped to read soon, but with what deep emotion!

The offer that'her mother had transmitted onGodefroid's part had glided over her heart like a question m a strange language which had struck her ear without appealing to her understanding. Madame Sauval was not ', one of those who was easily beaten. She would insist and question, and •when she wished to know a thing the best kept secrets would not hold out before her curiosity. She soon learned two things—one, that nobody ever thought of concealing from her that her daughter's heart was captured, the other she suspected also very quickly, that Jenny loved O'Farrell. She knew her daughter too well to overwhelm her with vain or even formidable reproaches, she had no hesititation as to the step to be taken, and whfin Patrice stopped her on the stairs she had gone to Godefroid's with the determination to say to him, without any circumlocution: "Your friend is yoiir rival. Send him away!" . Jenny was hardly surprised to see Patrice, although a visit from this young man, without being announced, was enough to have surprised her. For some time she had been left to herself by reason of her enforced idleness, and she often thought of this new-comer in her life, who had, one might say, entered into its innermost recesses. Thought, as well as exchange of words, can render us familiar with a person. With that faculty of forgetting everything else, given by nature to a woman who loves, she had almost forgotten the message that her mother had given her, as well as the scene that had followed it. All that had happened between her visit and the present hour was only a chain of accessory details. She did not ask herself when she saw Patrice: "What has he come to say to me?' She only thought: "How happy 1 am!" O'Parrell saluted the young lady ■without looking at her, for fear that he might forget his role. He took a chair a short distance from her, and said, in a hurried manner:

"Mademoiselle, you hold in your liands not only the'happiness of Godefroid, our benefactor and our friend, but his -Itfft."

[Translated from the French of Leon de Tinseau.]

I "His life!" she repeated, with an effort to follow him hi this unexpected direction. Patrice gave a sigh which showed that he could hardly continue. "Yes," continued he, "his life. For if you refuse him he will kill himself."' If there existed in this world a cruel, heartless woman, it certainly was not Jenny, and j-et she replied, in an almost indifferent tone of voice: "Men very rarely kill themselves for that; above all at his age." "On the contrary, it is at his age that they do it, when age has not closed their hearts. Godefroid is exactly the one to do it. Without God, without family or consolation, disappointed in the dearest hope of his life, never having undergone certain struggles, he is lost if you repulse him, he is dead; it is infallible, it is' true." j "Mon Dieti!" said she, tremblingly, i "my mother has gone " i "Your mother has gone to give him J hope. I met her on the way, and as it | !was a question that concerned the life i of my friend I took it upon myself to change the message which she confided to me." j "You did that!" exclaimed Jenny, iin a broken tone: "you have done that! Oh, unfortunate!"' Patrice gathered up these words one by one as so many vows of love. He engraved them in his memory to be his supreme consolation in some distant, place where he should go to end | his days. As he kept silent she said: I"I understand; you wanted to calm him, to prepare him, and gain time. You did just right. Poor man! Ah! Dieu! I should never console myself jf .. Whoever would have suspected such a thing of him. i You will talk with him and make him understand that it is impossible?" "Why impossible?" said OTarrell, slowly. "You do not like the stage. He will free you from it. He will give yo\i an honoured name, a comfortable ! fortune, a stainless past, and devotion without bounds." "What I hear is so strange,"' interirupted Mademoiselle Sauval, "that I I think my reason "s giving way. I do : not know what to say, or rather I can;not say what l Avould. Ido net be- ' lieve that there is another man livi in"- that would do as you are doing.' "I am only doing what a devoted friend should do in my place. I plead Godefroid's cause so that ne may live and be happy." ! "bo you remember," said she, low- ; ering her eyes, "that evening on the ; ice?"Do you'remember what you said. ! I will be a devoted brother to you, devoted to you alone! Why is it that between these two attachments it is the other that has the preference. Why do you sacrifice your sister to your friend?" .„ , | * "Because that friend has sacrificed i himself for me for fifteen years Le- ! cause-T owe everything to him; the j bread that nourished me; the clothes ! that I wore, and move yet—the wc--1 amples of courage and honour which ihehas shown me, and Which have made a man of me. At this hour he Ib iSe weaker one. If you knew how he ! suffered, how unhappy and lonelj he i IS"Have you not returned to him?" "Oh." said Patrice, shaking his head, 1 "that is not the same thing. \V hen l ,o-o* Godefroid only loses a friend. Without me lie hardly suffers. Without you he will die. He. must not Jenny rose full of passionate ni-di-nation and going to the mantel commenced moving in a nervous way the articles upon it. "And I" she said, suddenly, am 1 the* only person that it does not concern? Can I not love also? Have I passed the age when the heart has a rio-ht to speak? Am I one of those creatures consecrated to self-denial, marked from birth to be sacrificed? Mv mother tortured me for hours this morning, and when I thought that I had recovered from that combat, behold! you return to the charge and tell me to "marry Godefroid, whom I do not love." tt "If you knew how good he is. How he adores yon. Whit a grateful slave you would"find in him!" "I believe it," replied she. 'If he had spoken six month sooner I might perhaps have placed my hand in his with happiness. I must tell you < that what you said to me only a. minute a"-o is to-day another thing." n"Why?" he asked in a trembling tone. "Do you wish to know why? Be satisfied then, and if you are astonished at my frankness thank yourself for it In fact I struggle to defend my happiness, but I struggle alone. Nevertheless, they shall not find in me a timid, frightened girl. Now, then, enough of this subterfuge between us. Yes, something has changed my life. I too have know another sentiment besides friendship. I love—try to find out who; lam loved—try to discover the man." O'Farrell felt that the decisive moment, had arrived. One tender glance from her eyes, and although he had come to sacrifice himself he would leave -with, his friend's death, warrant in his hands. "I think," said he, stammering-, "that many men have and will love you. But of all these one ought to come first in your eyes. One more wiord—has Godefroid done nothing- for you?" Jenny Sauval looked at the young man, whose eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm. Those who reproached her as being ignorant of passion in her roles would hardly have recognised her now. In a vibrating voice she replied: "He has made me experience th<J most supreme joy of my life." Patrice was at his wit's ends, and kept silent. She continued: "I owe to him having met the one that I love, and that I shall always love, that I admire even now in myi astonishment that a human being can I carry his nobleness to such a height., Go, I should give you my heart.after what I have just seen if you did not have it already. Keep me yours and i God help us to stive poor Godefroid." At each of these words Patrice trembled as if he had been priclced by a sword. Her happiness _ and her I endurance surpassed anything- that he had ever imagined. He had come (there to get himself out of the way,

and behold! she gave herself to him. I Concealing as well as he could the | ■ horrible agony that seized him, he : stammered: | "Hut you arc mistaken. I have never j told you that 1 love you."' She bounded out oi: her seat at those words, then an expression of terror passed over her countonace. Butsoon she regained her confidence. i "Have pity!" said she, "do not con-' tinue. What will become of me if I , am mistaken! Think how I have j i seen you on your knees. Ah, do not prolong this unhappy untruth. Who will profit by it?" "Mademoiselle," replied Patrice, "when they announce to you to-mor- i row that I have gone to the ends of the earth, you will not think then that it is an untruth." i. "My Heaven!" exclaimed she, wringing her hands. "What have 1 done to merit such torture? What secret are you concealing in your soul? Do you think me unworthy of you? No, certainly not, since you find me worthy of this friend who is of more account to you than all the world. Perhaps you efface yourself: in your devotion for me so that 1 may marry a rich man! Were you thinking of that? If I sought a. fortune do you think that Godefroid's would suffice me?" ; "No," said OTarrell, "I. do not think of money. If 1 thought of that I j should be obliged to tell you that I j am poor, that work is my only por- : lion. I am strong, and I am young — too young sometimes. I can struggle against life. Godefroid without you is lost; with him you can be happy. You know now the truth." "AUis!" exclaimed Jenny,' "the j truth only is that lam lost. too. You j have, left'me nothing1 here," and she i struck hpr breast. "You have killed i all in me; the love that 1 had hoped | for, the promised friendship, pride, , all hope in life. With the man that i : I love I could bo a saint. With hate, I despair, eternal spite. avlio knows j what kind, of a woman 1 may become?" "Well," said the young man, with j a bitter smile, "at "all events, I see that it is better that 1 should go. As well for the joys that I have found in j Paris as those which await me. I" like j the desert and solitude much better." j Jenny was suddenly stricken with j stupor. Her face fell, showing a sort of heart-broken terror that would have moved with compassion a stranger's heart. . "Ah! lam lost! You are all against me!" groaned she. "Nevertheless you promised me your friendship. It is | the only thing left for me in this world." ~. "If you save Godefroid, until my dying 'day, I will be your friend. I will love "you like a sister, a who would have me save a life. "Yes" said she, shaking her head sadly, "until the day when another more happy • " Patrice interrupted her, and extended his hand toward her with a look that he sometimes had and which it was impossible not to believe. In a sweet, soft voice like a last adieu, he said: , ~, "Rest tranquilly. That day will never come. I shall live and die alone. The hours that have just passed mark too much in my life for me to be able to -forget the hard lesson. Curses on love the ruin and evil that it causes. She fell into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. By the movements that she made Patrice saw that she j was sobbing, and with a suppressed j exclamation he darted forward; bur. i a last glimmer e of reason restrained j him; Half crazy, he reached the door. : Jenny, ten-Hied at the sound of his retreating footsteps, cried out: "Patrice!" He turned around, showing an agi- ; tated countenance. "Oh, Heaven!" exclaimed she. in the midst of her tears, "I am nothing to ;, you, then, nothing; not even the dog- ! that one caresses for the last time before giving him to another. You j leave without saying one kind word j to me. without thinking that there are women who kill themselves. Are you going? Shall I never see you again?" ""Upon my honour, you shall see me to-morrow," said Patrice. He crossed the threshold, and carried away with him that cry of joy, weak, but at the same time harrowing, that he had just heard.

(To be continued.)