A TRAGEDY IN HIGH LIFE.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Volume I, Issue 13, 13 June 1863, Page 1 (Supplement)

A TRAGEDY IN HIGH LIFE.

Now that the joyous days of masquerading and revelry have passed away in Paris, we have to turn to the sackcloth of ashes and repeatance. Singular enough, the very first day of Lent has been marked bv a most painful and terrible event, which has spread confusion and terror throughout the whole Faubourg St. Germain. The tale is so strange, so filled with the elements of romance, that, were it not sure to become public in a few days, we should experience some degree of scruple in recounting it. One of the fairest and most wealthy of the heiresses who inhabit the vast and princely mansions of the Rue St. Dominique has just committed suicide under circumstances of the most extraordinary

nature. The young lady, whose beauty had already become celebrated, was the daughter of the widowed Duchess , who, devoting herself entirely to the happiness of her two children, lived in the strictest retirement. The young Due , just fifteen, was pursuing his studies at home under the superintendence of a tutor, —the latter a Polish gentleman, remarkable for his peculiar ugliness, being humpbacked, and almost a dwarf, with the peculiarly large mouth and exaggerated ears which belong to persons affected with gibbosity. But it seems that the tutor was gifted with poetry in the highest degree; he was enthusiastic, he was patriotic, moreover ; and when the call to arms in favor of poor, blighted injured Poland resounded through the land, he obeyed the summons on the instant, and fled to the rescue with as much alacrity as though Dame Nature had not evidently given him the best excuse for remaining a simple spectator of the struggle. For the last few days of his stay in the family it was observed that the young lady was saddened and depressed beyond measure. While the other members of the household were busily employed in collecting every object which should render his journey more easy—for he had become a great favorite with all—she would wander about the house, listless and heedless of what was going on around, and when the moment of the final farewell arrived, she was missed from the drawing-room, and so the adieux were not spoken. The young man departed, unconscious of any other feeling than that of regret that the railway signal, which waits for no man, would compel him to leave the country without a single word of affectionate adieu to tho fair and amiable young girl who*e kindness and consideration had so long helped to soothe the feeling of dependence amid which ho had been living. For some little while after his departure no heed was taken of the absence of the young lady. The day was fine—the garden attached to the mansion is a large one. It was supposed that she was roaming amid its walks, and watching the progress of the spring and the shrubs and flowers; but when the dinner bell had rung, and still she did not appear, of course great anxiety was felt, and the whole household joined in the search. Every room in the mansion was visited, but without result, and the terror and anxiety of the mother may be imagined when all through the grounds the name of the young girl was shouted without bringing any reply. There is a small summer-house at the bottom of the garden far from the mansion, and damp and desolate, but seldom used. The young brother, as it were in a fit of despair, bursts open the door, little expecting to find the object of his search. It was there, however, that he found his sister—cold, pale, and motionless. She was leaning on the wooden table belonging to the place, and her hand still grasped the small phial whose contents had sent her out of the world she had been destined to adorn, leaving her adoring relatives to misery and despair. The bottle had contained chloroform, which had been used for the soothing of the pain of toothache, and death had been instantaneous and comparatively easy. In the first paroxysm of grief, the investigation of the cause of the rash act was overlooked. Many suggestions were offered, but no reason, plain enough to be accepted, could be given. It was not till the examination of the corpse had taken place that the whole clue to the frightful mystery was discovered. Suspended by a ribbon from her neck was found a little silken satchel, containing the photographic portrait of the Polish tutor, even more ugly in the semblance than in nature. The portrait was accompanied by a lock of coarse, wiry hair, which the young Duke remembered to have cut one day from the head of the dwarf, and to have presented to his sister with mock solemnity, telling her that it was a souvenir of romance and beauty. A few lines, perfectly disjointed and incoherent were written in pencil on the back of the portrait; but whether written at the moment of the dreadful determinatton, or on some previous occasion, no one can tell. The event has caused the utmost excitement throughout the Faubourg. The funeral which is not to take place in Paris, but at the family chateau, in Normandy, will be attended by all the principal members of the Legitimist families, notwithstanding the distance, so great is the desire to show respect to the bereaved mother, and, above all, to display opposition to the prejudice which exists in cases of the like nature, when death is the result of suicide.—Court Journal.