A LOTTERY OF LOVE.

Evening Post, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 125, 23 November 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

A LOTTERY OF LOVE.

His hat properly adjusted on his hoad and his stick in his hand, all roady to go out, Sylvoro d'Espignac, after a last glanco in the mirror — he was, indeed, a fino-looking fellow — Sylvoro d'Espignac rang for his valot, nnd domandod, not without some show of emotion — "Justin, tho given name ?" " Clarisso, sir." "Family name?" " Mine, de Villoroso" "Title?" " IWonoss." " Ago ?" " About twouty-throo." "Widowodor livorcod?" " Sho is said to be a widow." "And tho address?" " Hovontoon Rue doPonthiuve." "Which floor?" '• Second floor, over tho entrance." " Lot me sue — Baroness Clarisse de Villoroso, aged twenty-throe years, a widow, residing at 1 7, Ruo de Ponthieve, second floor, over tho entrance." "Quite correct, sir." "Very good. Justin, you may havo my trunks in readiness, for, if the baronoss is willing, we shall start for Italy this evening." , Whereupon Syivore d'Espignac passed through his ante-chamber, descended the stairs, and stepped into his cab, calling out to his coachman — "Seventeen, Rue de Penthieve, quickly." Every morning for throe years past, at tho same hour, the same Bcone had unfailingly been repeated To his master's question, without availing himself of the aid of any recollection or any reconnoitring, Justin had replied with tho given name, the family name, the title, the age, and the address of an imaginary woman. And never had Sylvere failod to repair to the designated house— and nover had he failed to be dooply moved when the concierge, naturally enough, had replied, " I do not know of any such person." What was tho reason of. the palpably absurd comedy ? Tho fact is that Sylvere d'Espignac, tired of easy conquests and tho routine manner in which match-makers pair off young people for life, wished to owe only to the mo3t extraordinary combination of chances tho woman to "whom ho would surrender. Did he n-filly hopo that a mysterious nccord botween the will of Providence and his valot's imagination should permit him, some day or another, to meet the woman who was predestined to become his wife ? Yes ! And this dream was the more dear to him that it was so chimerical. Neither the young buds, who never rofuse. nor the young widows, who sometimes accept, could turn him from his unique idea ; more than one ■whom others had successfully sued and sighed for, had vainly given him, by a glanco or a smile, the vague and tender signal which does not forbid advances. It was with constantly-renewed trepidation that he presented himself each morning at the address provided by the inexhaustable imagination of his valet. The carriage stopped. As he entered the hall-way, Sylvere trembled in spite of himself, and he took quite short steps, to put off to tho last instant the accustomed cruel response. " Mme. de Villerose ?" he inquired. "She is at home, sir?" " What !" he cried, his heart in his mouth ; <( but no, you misunderstood me. I said ' Mmc de Villerose.' " "Yes, quite right." " It is Baroness Clarisse de Villeroso whom I inquire for." " Exactly." " A— a young woman of about twenty-three ?" " I should judge so." " Who is a widow ?" " For two years past." "And who resides on the second floor?" " Just over the entrance." He rushed upstairs, three at a time, knocked, pushed open the door, hurried across the room, oponed another door, entered a boudoir, and threw himself breathless at the feet of an astounded young ■woman. How fair and deliciously pretty she was — chance had done well to cast his lines in such pleasant places — not for an instant did he think of rising. What words did he use, with what irresistible passion did he reveal to her, with mingled voice and gesture, his bold hopes ? I know not. Suffice it to say that Mme. de Villerose, to whom undoubtedly he related with infinite detail the history of his realised dream, saw, perhaps, that it would have been folly not to submit with a good grace, and to the very end, to a fate of such astonishing coincidences; or, perhaps, she was one of those who can ill withstand the supplications of a handsome, wealthy, aud eloquent young man, who is, moreover, kneeling at her feet — at all events, the incontrovertible fact is that on that afternoon the trunks were not packed in vain. Together they came to know, Sylvere aud Clarisse, the lazy pleasure of the promenade in a gondola, beneath the blue sky of Venico, and the delight of Bitting hand in hand on a Neapolitan balcony of an evening, while the smoke of Vesuvius rises like a sheaf towards the stars. Deeper in love, day by day, Syivore was perfectly happy, and he even felt a slight thrill of regret one morning when Clarisse said — "Go back to France? When you like, my dear lord and master. But you will discharge Justin, will you not ? Oft, with a goodly purse, of \ of course. You see, I would be embarrassed, and I could not help blushing at sight of the poor fellow, since he was my accomplice in the little rusr love showed me by which I won you, my husband." To him nothing is possible who is always thinking of his past possibilities.—Carlyle. I take it to be the principal rule of life not to bo too much addicted to any one thing. — Terence. Strivo to be, not to seem ; ono is truth, the other dream. Every ultimate fact is only tho first of a new eerieß. — Emerson. Fortune can take away riches, but not courage. — Seneca.