LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 205, 4 February 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SKETCHES IN FRENCH SOCIETY. THE BITER BIT. (Concluded.) Arrived [at Madame Veaucluse's apartment, and receiving no answer to her knock, repeated twice, Miss Stodart softly pushed the door, and slipped in. The room was empty, but in the next, the boudoir, Madame was on her knees, bathed in tears, and a wild expression in her eyes. She had not heard the summons, and was profoundly unconscious of everything passing around her. Noiselessly coming behind her, the young girl threw her arms rouud her friend's neck. -;y_; <, . ''X3lara Ml dearJ';to>u'niust not go there tonight.' &>■ 'ls it you, Helen ? said Madame Veaucluse, almost choking with suppressed sobs. 'I fear it's very foolish, but I must.' ' But why, darling ? No one will accuse you of cowardice for not complying with this extravagant demand.' 'No one! and what of him ?' ' Monsieur Thorval! nonsense ;he is too polite, tao well bred, and too anxious not to give you pain. He never intended his words to be taken seriously. He was not to know whom the pledge belonged to; it might have been mine or Mademoiselle Parolles', and I am sure she would not have gone.' ' You are mistaken, Helen ; he knew perfectly well whose it was. It did not escape him that it was the last Madame Varonne held : that I had given my thimble, and not received it back again. He's done this expressly, out of revenge, because—' Here the Comtesse stopped suddenly. ' Out of revenge!' repeated Miss Stodart. 1 Yes, because I told bim yesterday that I could not marry him. The references I received about him warned me that he was a gambler, a profligate, and a spendthrift; and I may not give such a father to my children.' • Thank God !' exclaimed Miss Stodart fervently. ' Did you suspect it ?' asked the Comtesse. ' Yes, I disliked the man; and—Well, 1 congratulate you with all my heart; and now let ine persuade you to abandon this mad attempt at mock heroism. We all know there is no ghost, but in your present state of nervousness the exoitement would be too much for you.' ' I cannot, Helen; for my own honor's sake I cannot retreat.' ' Will you let me go instead f • You V • Yes, I; you see lam not nervous. We are much the same figure ; in the dark no one will know the difference. I'll go, and you'll reap the honors.' ' Impossible. I cannot expose you to a risk I hardly dare face myself.' «Thanks, Clara; but there is no risk to me. lam perfectly Belf-possessed, besides, I want to play this M. Thorval a trick.'

Much more was said, but Miss Stodart carried her point at last. Some farther arrangements were made, and when she left everything had been agreed upon. Madame Beaupre was on the watch. 'Have you succeeded better than I, missic ?' asked she. ' Indeed,madame, you need not be afraid; your sister is quite prepared to carry out the joke, and it would be a pity to Bpoil the fun. I confess I was rather anxious, but after seeing her, I am perfectly easy.' 1 What, have you gone over to the other side ?' • Yes, if you like; and I should not have done so if I were not perfectly satisfied that Clara is not in the least nervous about it.' ' She is mad, and I am sorry to have to say the same of you, Miss Stodart.' It wag no longer ' missie,' as it had been a moment before. 'ln that case I have nothing more to say.' The young girl was going, when Madams Beaupre called her back. " By the bye, have you seen Madame. "VJsronne's little red crape shawl ? she cannot find it anywhere; she says she left it in the salon.' ' No, I have not seen it.' With these words the ladies left each other. Scarce had Miss Stodart gone a few steps before she stopped. Clapping her hand to her head, she stood irresolute; the sudden thought struck her that Thorval had dropped something red from under his coat when she met him in the passage. ' What could he want with that crape shawl ?' A moment's hesitation, a bound, and she was in the armour gallery. Not a soul was there, one glance round the room was sufficient. 1 Found out!' cried the young girl, unconsciously paraphrasing the Syracusian philosopher as he ran along the street, in the scantiest of attire, or without any perhaps, shouting, 'Eureka, Eureka!' What had she found out? Time will show. The dinner passed off very gloomily, notwithstanding the efforts of all to appear cheerful: hardly anyone addressed M. Thorval, and when he announced his departure for the following morning, there was an audible sigh of satisfaction. He left the table directly after dessert, pleading preparations. Neither did Captain Francheville join the guests in the drawing room. He was detained in his own room by correspondence. Eleven o'clock struck, when Madame Veaucluse rose with Miss Stodart, asking permission to go and change her dress. ' We'd better all do the same/ said M. Beaupre, ' because I propose to accompany my sister as far as the gates.' ' Decidedly !' was the general answer, and the company dispersed. At a quarter to twelve the lady descended into the hall, where the company stood waiting. Her hood was closely drawn oyer her face. Her appearance was the signal for the start.. The Marquis offered her his arm, which she silently accepted. The remainder followed in pairs, without speaking a word, Miss Stodart (or what was supposed to be that lady), on the arm of Leon de Bellegarde, bringing up the rear. 'Where are Thorval and Francheville?' inquired some one. 'Thorval is ashamed, and Francheville must not be out in the night air,' answered another. They, traversed the park without further comment. 'Do you feel strong enough?' asked M. Beaupre of his companion. ' Yes,' was the scarcely audible reply. ' Hush!' to intimate her wish not to he spoken to. 'And now, sis, we must leave you ; but look, we'll remain here, and if you want us, blow this little whistle; we'll be with you in a jiffy.' And before the lady had time to collect herself, a good sounding kiss was pressed upon her lips as an encouragement. ' Now for it 1' muttered Miss Stodart, for it was she. Passing through the gates, she crossed the ' highroad, turned into a narrow bridle-path bordered by venerable chestnuts and elms, and in a few minutes reached a circular open spot, in the centre of which the stone-oak was situated. While waiting for the first stroke of. the clock she took from her pocket a little hammer and five nails. Suddenly a slight rustling was heard. ' A fox or a rabbit; there is no wind; it cannot be that.' Peering from under her hood to the side whence the noise proceeded, she distinctly heard the sound of footsteps crushing the dried-up leaves. ' H'm, a poacher, or perhaps—Bah, that's a living being. Ghost's don't wear shoes.' Bang! chimed the first stroke from the castle tower, disturbing her in her conjectures. Tap! received the first nail into the tree. Bang, bang! Tap, tap !go the corresponding blows. Looking up, she perceives coming up the pathway facing her a something tallying in every respect with the description given by the Marquis. Sabre, turban, cloak, everything correct. ' Some one been to Sam May in Bow street,' chuckles Miss Stodart, not forgetting her English recollections. Bang, bang, bang! continues the clock, and now she naa but two nails left. The apparition is face to face with her. - She begins to operate with the fourth nail as the echo of the seventh stroke vibrates through the air. The ghost, angry at the little notice with which he is being rewarded lifts his arm threateningly, bares his sabre, and whirls it about her head. 'Monsieur Thorval,' cries she, laughing out loud, as with the last stroke of the clock she drives in the last nail, ' Madame Varonne wants her crape shawl, of which you have made yourself—' * A turban' she is about to say, but cannot finish the sentence, for at her firfct words she sees him stagger, as if struck by lightning, and before she knows it, he is lying senseless: at her feet. Becoming frightened this time, she looks up and sees the very counterpart of the stricken-down man appear in the shadow opposite. She utters a loud shriek, and give* the signal. The company rush up, to find Francheville bending over the prostrate form of Thorval. 'lt serves him right, he is a coward. I suspected him, and wanted to pay him out. • It's only the biter bit.' With this the Captain shoulders the senseless man, while Miss Stodart receives the compliments due to her oourage. The next day the stone-oak is rased to the ground.