The Glasses of Truth.

Evening Post, Volume LXVII, Issue 150, 25 June 1904, Page 10

The Glasses of Truth.

4 "- It is related that onco upon a time, in Paris, there lived a truly happy man. One would naturally suppose I hat he, too, must have been without a shirt to his bnck ; on the contrary, ho owned many — some of silk, some of flannel, and some embroidered. He was hnppy because ho posseted riches ; because he was surrounded by many friends ; because ho had an adoring wife whom he loved ; and lust, but not least, because ho was able to devote his life to art. In tiuth, he was a sculptor of no mean talent; but, being wealthy, he ofun received more piui&e than his woik deserved. Most of his time was spent in his sunny studio, where, friends w ere always welcomed, and the wine cup pasted around freely. In exchange for tins hospitality, his followers wii.ingiy show eicd on him the fuluomo praise which m.ulo him so happy. Ho had been nicknamed by them "Prince Fortunate," and often did ho pioud.y say to his comrade Albert, who was homely, poor, and fretful : "I am indeed the most, happy of mortals." One day this favourite of fortune was working alone in his studio. He whs giving the fiuislung touches to a study depicting a Nymph and a Satyr. So well p.ea&ed was ho with the grace of the former and the manly beauty of the latter, that ho stood in admiration bofore his work, muttering to himself : "This certainly will bo my masterpiece." In the midst of his reveries a servant ushered in a smartly-dressed gentleman carrying a small bundle under his arm. The visitor looked keenly at the artist at work with % his mullet and chisel. Raising, his forefinger to heaven to command "attention, ho smiled pleasantly, and remark ed : "Sir, T. am selling glasses. I have some of all colours nnd fur all eyes. Can't I sell you a pair?" 'Prince Fortunate apsured the stranger that he needed none, but the peddler of glasses persisted : "I have some that are blue, tome yellow, and others pink and greon. Tire pink ones are for those afflicted with melancholy, for they make one see the rosy side of life ; tho blue glasses are for the poets ; the yellow are intended for unhappy husbands — through them all wives arc models of truth and fidelity. There arc some green ones which hold continually bofore the wearer the mirage of hope." As he spoke, tins peddler spread before the sculptor th© vari-colouved glasses. "It's no use," interrupted Prince Fortunate, "I don't want your glasses ; they are a delusion. Life h beautiful, and I am content to see it as it really is." Again the peddler smiled, and, shaking his head, searched the bottom of his bundle. "I'm convinced that' you are a | superior man," said he. "You want the glasses of truth. Very well, hero they i are. Tkeir colour is grey and dull, in keeping with what they unerringly re- ! fleet." "Good," said the sculptor, undismayed, "I'll take them. What are they worth?" "The others all bring fancy prices. I'll let you havo these g.rey ones cheap — for a cent." Prince Fortunate handed him the coin, and took the sombre-looking glasses in exchange. Whereupon the peddler departed. "To learn the truth for one cent," i laughed the sculptor, merrily, "is certainly cheap." And turning over his purchase disdainfully, he added : "That fellow needn't think ho has fooled me." However, in a spirit of fun, he put the glasses to his eyes just as his friend Albert entered the room. The latter was his old and faithful companion ; they had passed through all the grades of the public schools together ; they had entered and graduated from college in company ; they had shared tbe same pleasures and trials of youth ; and when Prince Fortunate finally married, Albert had officiated as best man. "I am happy to see yo"u," said Albert, ' extending his hand in greeting. "Life would indeed be. unbearable for a bachelor like mo if I were not sure of always being welcomed here. In fact, I'm afraid my affection for you is the best trait I have." The sculptor, unablo to speak, gazed at his friend in amazement, for Albert's eyes were like thin glasses through which his thoughts could be seen like pictures in a book. Instead of feeling the sincere affection which he protested, tb'e horrified sculptor read his true thoughts, which, put in words, were : "Companion of my youth, I loathe you for all tho good deeds you havo done. You are a perfect type of manly beauty while I am a monster of uglineas ; you are rich, I am poor ; j'ou are blessed with health, lam a wreck ; you love me, - while I hate you — yes, I hate you for your kindness and the humiliation I have suffered. Despite my hatred, however, I am forced to play tho hypocrite. I must be especially amiable this day above all, because I intend to borrow <i thousand francs from you." But the revelation did not end here. Prince Fortunate, with the aid of the glasses of truth, further learned that from the time they had played marbles together,' Albert ' had envied and hated him. He felt himself growing dizzy— it was like a .beautiful edifice crumbling away, leaving hi? roul aghast. "Go owny, false fritnd," ehrioked ho at last, "you have permitted a spirit of mean jealousy to destroy a nobbo friendfillip." And without more ado, he thrust hi»-comrade out of the studio, and when Albert looked back beseechingly, he slammed the door in his face. Later in tho evening, when the dusky shades of ' night were silently slealing ■ into the studio, Prince Fortunate, lost in dreams, was joined by his buautiful wife. Sho kissed him tenderly, hat by his side, nnd, as usual, talked of. the numerous nothings that filled her days. She had been to a. bargain sale at tho Lou\ re ; it had rained a little at about three o'clock ; it was said that the new drama at the Gymnase wns very interesting And then, in a careless manner, she ventured : "Oh, by the way, I met the captain. He will dine with us 'this evening " Pretending to be bored, she added : "Annoying, isn't it, dear? I can't abido tho fop, he's so conceited." A servant softly entcied and lighted the lamps. Prince Fortunate, who, in tho darkness of his studio, has almost forgotten his magic glasses, raised his head and met his wife's cy-es, which 61'cmed, at that moment, to be contemplating a charming, souvenir. This is what wns really disclosed to him : In on elegantly-furnished apartment in one of tho leading hotels of the city, he observed two lovers wrapped in each other's arms. Prince Fortunate smothered a dry of pain, for, in tho picture, he recognised hia wife and the captain. At first he was loth to bolievc the awful revelation. "These glasses lie," ho thought. "This con not be possible ' Then he looked fixedly at his wife, whose glance fell under his gaze. Hor eyes shone wiUi on unnatur.il brilliancy, sho

waa ill at easo, neivous., and v-'^a f>h« hastily lpft the loom, Lv was convinced that the gla.«-es had told the truth; tit at her thoughts were not with him but uicli the Cupt.nn, whom lie had belie*, td to b« (in uduiiier of his voik imload of his v, lie. The scu'ptor was overwhelmed-. Uowifag lm ht.id he exclaimed: "Oli ! Truth, tliou luht u k«.n horn me all that made my lilc toiupl'jtc and happy !'' Mechanical y lie mined lou.ud his unfinished voik, the h\mpli aiid ihe .Satyr, "Hero he* my only consolation," he mummied, gratefully. ''Nothing can rob me of the joy of being an tutist, of being able to cieate the beautiful." But upou appiuachiiig his work, he was Mirpiiacd. to heur the statues 'converging. "Why nin I f-o home'.y?" moaned the Nymph. "I, who should 1» beautiful and sjlph-hl.e. Louk at my cUsloite4 form and the iinpeiiection of my hues." "'Yes, it is s>Ad to be chtao&d by no ignorant and uii->kuled artist," byinpa* tinned the K.ityr. "Would that I had bouh born in tho great Rodhi'b studio, instead of being brought to.light by this mi>-eL'abie amateur." At l.ibt the &cuipior's spirit was broken, "How giCMt -was my folly to put thesa glnef-es on my eyes!" he cried. "I will shatter thvm in a thouaaud pieces. Vuinly he tried to remove t,hem ; they wore fast to his eye 3. Then he realised that for eNor/ind ever he was destined Jo see We in its iruQ aspect ; that oh© may rid himself of Falsehood, but not of Truth, for she is pitiless and will ever cling. Alter that day, so the story goes, the sculptor no longer considered himsedf Fortune's favourite. On the contrary, he was the most unhappy of mortals, with but a s/ngle ray of hope' loft him— tho return of the strange peddler with his varied assortment of yellow, green, blue, and pink glasses, for any of which ho was now willing to exchange thf grey and aombrfc ones that reflected only the painful truth. — Adapted from the French of Maurice Magre by Jeannettd Bruio, in the Argonuul.