THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 68, 29 June 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

THE PRINCESS '•That clay," said Bartavel, with, simplicity, "I was sublime." Bartavel, former vice dean of the Comedie Francaise, loved to recall, for just a few intimates, the adventures of a career of forty-five years, in which he had never ceased to play the role of the younger lover upon the stage—and, they did say, in the city as well. "I was sublime," he continued, with the same simple air, "and not as an artist, Imt as a man." They listened to his tale. "I was taking my last tour of Europe. I was a good 63, ibut was still the only man in the company who knew how to fall elegantly upon his knees hefore a lady. And I coud rise, too, and smile rising. But what a grimace underneath the smile. Ah, my children! Those rheumatics! "We were traversing those little Danube States where half German (prince? govern Christians who are half Turks and who still wear petticoats outside their pantaloons. A* W , the cap :4 -"l of , the King attended the perfi :;:i ance with all his family. At the close he sent an aide de camp to request me to come the next day to his country place and get off a few things for them in private. "I w,ent, in an auto, with little Colleville. Pardonable gallantry, at my age: I had chosen to play some of the best parts in 'Don't Jest with Love/ and, to avoid the trouble of changes, we had made up in advance and wore the costumes of our parts. Colleville was dressed as Camille, I as Perdican, my great success. I was twenty. I was charming. "The chateau was quite commonplace. On the lawn, when we arrived, some ladies who had been crocheting or doing' embroidery were just taking coffee. There •we played before the King, and the whole house ran to meet us. It was an Aiisterlitz. The ladies cried 'Encore!' Also the men. The King devoured Colleville with his eyes. Between us, I think he counted on my bringing her along, but—well, «, comedian on the road is a little like an ambassador: he refuses nothing, eh?. At length they considered that we had earned our wage and were invited to a collation. "I'm so used to crowned heads—they are often in the boxes—that I am surprised at nothing. All the same, when I saw the princess royal bring me a cup of tea in her own hand I was speechless. I bowed with all imaginable respect. The future queen said to me in a low voice, looking me squarely in the fiice:

"I want to speak to you presently in the garden, behind the grotfo. I will wait for you. "The princess was a beauty, not German in the least, tall, brunette, a step of majesty and grace—she walked like one of our Company. Cheekbones a trifle Cossack, perhaps, but eyes,, mouth—ah! She walked away with her divine stride, I, nose in cup, followed her with my eyes, and couldn't think of another thought than 'Confound my age!'' "Everybody was flocking around Colleville. 1 was able to get to the garden and the grotto. The princess was there. She approached. She took my hand and murmured: , "'Say nothing. Let me look at you!' "'lf Claretie could only see me now!' I thought. "'How beautiful you are! And I—do you think I am beautiful?' "Now, what would you have done? As for me/ my role was printed, as it were. 1 fell at her feet and covered her hand "with kisses. She, was violently perfumed, I must say. I felt myself grow young. With that audacity which has gained me so many a success, I was about to put my arm about her waist, when she bade me rise and sit beside her on the stone bench. " 'First, listen to me,' she said. 'Do you know bit life here, what it is? Do you know what it is to be a. princess royal in this country? No, you cannot know it. To say the word "princess" calls up the idea of luxury, happiness, joy, domination, power. Folly! Legend! We are more imprisoned in the stupidities of etiquette than the nuns in the rules of their convent. Etiquette is all right for the court of Louis XIV., but here, in our little country life! You saw us; we were doing fancy work. Another day you might have seen us making candy. * Around us, not a brain, not a heart. " Tjook at me. Am I not made to live some other kind of life than that of a court puppet, with a father-in-law on the one hand' who has the gout and a husband on the other who does statistics? What is to be my life? I, who feel that the world is beautiful; I, who have a mind, a soul; T wa« born to love and bt loved!'

"She had tears in her voice. She was splendid. I would have given anything in the world to offer her a little happiness. She took! my hand again. "'You are a prince, you also; you are a king. You are young, you are charming. Will you love me? I will follow you whither you wish;, I will love you as you wish to be loved. I will be your plaything, iand you will make me to know life, the life worth living. Take me away—take me away!' "My children, I had thought to cull a small flower; I was offered a bouquet. I had dreamed of a tiny kiss; I was offered an elopement. It was flattering t» be sure. Le Bargy would perish with jealousy if I—tout the scandal! And the responsibility! And the life I should lead with that poor woman as soon as the first flush had (passed; 'The lost princess'—and lost with an old gentleman! And my own comfortable life—that counts for something. And the ridicule! Why the dickens didn't she ask me to bring her out on the stage whilst he wrfs about it? And the diplomatic complication? First of all, my children, I love my country! y "Just then I had an idea, a prodigiotw one. I said: " 'Madame, I am at your command. I will go and order the auto.' "1 went away awhile, and came back. But the sacrifice had been'made mean-

while. To save that woman from her folly I had given more than my life, more than my heart. I had given—lmt listen! Behind a tree I had snatched off my wig, and my fine Perdican moustache, and the charming eyebrows that made my glance so tender; 1. had wiped off all the white and black and pink which constituted my youthfulness, and I returned to her with "my wrinkles, and my nttle nightcaps under my eyes, and my crow's feet, and without my hair! ' '"She recognised me and gave a cry. An instant she hesitated, then threw herself upon my hands to kiss them, murmuring: 'Oh, thank you, thank you! You have saved me!' ' "Then she fled, calling me something or other like 'papa,' "What do you think of that?" Bartavel wiped the corner of his eye. "Hein! Was it not sublime? .Afterwards she ran off with a dentist!"— From the French.