LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1965, 11 June 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE PRIMA DONNA’S HUSBAND. [From the “Belgravia Annual.”] (Continued.) As he spoke he re-arranged hia disordered dress, and dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. There were blood stains upon hia face and hands. His coat was torn, and two or three of the buttons had been rent from his waistcoat. He took out his watch, to find hie guard severed and the glass broken. There seemed a prevalent anxiety that he should depart. One waiter preferred his hat, another his overcoat. But his movements were of a leisurely sort—he had little thought of making his escape apparently. Anxious and perplexed he might be ; he exhibited no signs of fear.

‘ Get away ;it is death!’ some one whispered In his ear. * I am well known here,’ said M. Boisdnval. ‘ Bhould the police want me, they shall have no difficulty in finding me. If a criminal charge is to arise out of this unfortunate affair, I have my answer ready.’ He advanced a few paces towards the sofa on which lay the young vicomte. The blood was oozing from his mouth ; it was whiscered that he was wounded in the lungs. Dr. Bonrniquet still knelt beside him, watching him with a finger upon his wrist. But it was plainly written upon the doctor’s facs that the condition of his patient was hopeless, -there seemed a disposition to avoid M. Boisduval s glance as he moved towards tho door. He made the assembly a sort of general salutation, bowing low so as almost to sweep the floor with his hat. Bat no one acknowledged this act of courtesy, or seemed to notice it in any way. For a moment he hesitated, his eyes resting upon Mdlle. Descharmes as though he would address to her some few words of farewell. But she was weeping, apparently, upon the shoulder -of Catlnka. M. Boisdnval grimaced curiously and quitted the room withont speaking. *Ho has departed calmly and comfortably,’ mused Alphonse, who from his hiding place, hia presence unsuspected, had watched the scene. ‘ I wonder, now, whether M. Boisdnval is much loved by hia wife and three children V

A second doctor, M. Hubert, was now in attendance to confirm the opinion of Dr. Bonrniquet. The Vicomte de Beaufond had been mortally wounded in the right lung by the straight sharp thin blade of a sword or knife, ajuoh a weapon as the sword-stick of M, Boisduva 1 , upon which indeed the stains of blood were still fresh. Medical art could do nothing for the sufferer. It was vain to think of moving nim from the sofa upon which he lay. He could survive but a few minutes only. * Felicite !’

‘Ho calls you, mademoiselle,’ said Dr. Bonrniquet; ‘speak to him. Courage, mademoiselle. It is only for a very little while. And if you have a word of kindness for him, say it before It is too late.’

The doctors withdrew to the other end of the room.

Mdlle. Descharmes took her place beside the dying man. She was much agitated, and her face wore a look almost of terror.

‘ Felicite,’ murmured the vicomte ; ‘ speak to me. I am dying. Let me hear your voice once more.’

He articulated with exceeding difficulty, Mdlle, Descharmes made an effort to speak, but in vain.

‘ I have loved you so, Felicite; if you knew how I have loved you,’ he gasped, ‘ how I love you still.’ ( ‘My letters,’she whispered hoarsely; ‘I want my letters. They may compromise me.’ ‘ Kiss me before I die. You shrink from me! ilm I so horrible an object? Touch my band, then. You will never be loved so dearly as I love you. Touch my hand only, in token that I am something to you —that you will not quickly forget me —that you will think of me sometimes, and kindly, Felicite, and with pity; for it is sad to die like this — bo young aa I am, and with so much love in my heart.’ ‘My letters ! For God’s sake give me the letters ! Now—while there is time, and there is no one looking.’ * I have no strength ; I cannot move ; thrust your hand into the breast pocket of my coat; the letters are there ; the right pocket; gently! Say good bye, Felicite—a kind word —a tender lock—and soon —for it grows very dark, or I am becoming blind.’

Two men had quietly entered the room, the one a priest, the other an officer of police. 1 Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I must accomplish my duty; this is a criminal affair; we shall have to deal with a charge of murder, and these papers may possibly be evidence in the case.’ As he spoke he dexterously twitched from her trembling fingers the packet of letters she had drawn from the pocket of the dying vicomte. Discomfited. Mdlle. Descharmes sought Alphonse. But Alphonse was not to be fonnd. The untimely death of the Vicomte de Beaufond was much deplored. What became known as the murder in the Rue des Hirondelles roused great curiosity, and was found exciting by large classes of society. It is true that the victim was only distinguished in that he was of noble family. He had led an idle, unprofitable, even vicious life. But he was young, he was handsome, and he had loved. His death was the consequence of hia unfortunate passion for the admired singer Felicite Des charmes. It was known that he had made her most costly presents and that ho had propose to marry her. Could there be more convincing proof of the genuineness and fervour of hia affection ? M. Boisduval had duly delivered himself into the hands of justice to stand his trial. He was not popular; there was a general prejudice against him. He was reputed to bo a man of violent temper. He had fought duels; he had been concerned in two or three cases of personal assault. And then it was perceived to be most unseemly that he, middleaged, a husband and a father, should bs brawling after midnight at the supper-table of an opera singer. It was indeed scandalous ; and the young visoonte bad certainly lost bis life at the hands of M Boiffiuval.

(There waa one person whc exhibited very special interest in the trial. This was M. Alphonse. His name was not mentioned, and ho did not appear personally in the matter. But it may be said that he permeated the proceedings, completely infecting them. He pondered incessantly upon the case and its probable consequences. How would it influence the career o! Mullo, Duscharmes or the public regard for her! That was what he chiefly asked himself. Already she had been compelled to abandon certain lucrative engagements; her attendance ag a witness at the trial was imperatively necessary. Many held that it was not only M. Boisdnval who was being tried, hnt Mdllo. Descharmes abo, as accessory to his crime. * The firm is in difficulty.’ observed M. Alphonse, ‘ because of the indiscretions of the junior partner ; it is hard npon mo ; and to think of Feiicite’s letters being read aloud in Court and printed in the newspapers! What a blow to our credit! are ruinous things ; female children should not be taught to write ; it is most important that my connection with the case should ha concealed from the public.’ * You are ashamed of me, Alphonse S’ demanded Felicite.

She had looked worn and anxious of late. Seen by daylight, she had almost esased to be beautiful.

‘Let ns agree that we are somewhat ashamed of each other,’ said M Alphonse ; ‘ that way of putting the case need offend neither of onr susceptibilities, however. Cur union has been long a secret ; certainly this ia not a good time for taking the world into our confidence.’

‘ I begin to think that you never loved me,’

She was yearning fer sympathy and a little tenderness even from Alphonse. ‘ Perhaps not, he said quietly ; ‘ thongh we both thought I did for a time. Love is a cut flower; sweet and pretty, but it doea not last long. What does It matter ? Your immortelles aro poor, dry, scentless things, very well for churchyards ; but you would not wear them in your bosom 1 No ; people musn’t see me ; they must think you unmarried. It ia important to your case. A husband lurking in the background—there’s a bad effect about it. People will think you a puppet, and that I pnll the string. - ' (To be continued.')