Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 January 1893 — A LOVE TEST. [ARTICLE]

A LOVE TEST.

“It is a real calamity,” said Mme. do Lepreneuse, the mother, ‘*to have this mad do? run at larire. No one dares ?o out.” “Last evening again,” added her daughter, “he bit two children coining from school. The despair of their parents is indescribable.” “How frightful! Is there no means of making the bite harmless, doctor?” asked Mine, de Lepreneuse, addressing a yonng man of 30 years. “There is first the cauterization with a hot iron,” replied the doctor. “That is horrible,” exclaimed Mile, de Lepreneuse; “there ought to be another way.” “When the region permits it,” continued the doctor, “one can apply a ligature above the bite, wash the wound, and burn it with a caustic liquid. Whatever the process, it should be quick, before it is top late. All inoculated liquid penetrates with great rapidity in the blood. Several experiments have been made on this subject.”

'‘Tell us some,” interrupted Mile, dc Lepreneuse. “For a wound in the hand,” continu'd the doctor, “one applies a solution containing a substance easily recognized; soon after bleeding the opposite hand, one finds the inoculated substance in the blood, it having already pervaded the system,’’ “Eton,” said Gaston de Maurcbois, Cousin of Mile, de Lepreneuse, "when one is bitten there is no hope except at the Pasteur Institute?” “There is a preventative,” replied the doctor, “whose immediate employment gives excellent results, but it is relinquished now.” “Doubtless it necessitates some serious inconvenience, does it not?” asks Karl _£laricnzi, one of the guests of the chateau, “Very serious,” replied the doctor. “Tell-us about it, nevertheless,” said Kart. “It is suction,” replied the doctor. “One must concentrate oneself and suck the wound at once. This operation presents great danger. The operator is almost certain of being inoculated with the virus, the lips being the chosen spot. The delicacy of the mucus which covers them facilitates absorption. This way, relying upon devotiou, is little employed.”

“You do not believe in devotion, doctor?” asked Mme. de Lepreneuse. “I did not say that, mademoiselle. I believe it js prudent not to count on it foo much.” “lam of your opinion,” added Mine, de Lepreneuse. * “What!” cried her daughter, “you doubt it? You! The personification of devotion!” “Yes, my child, to doubt is one of the bitter fruits of experience.” This conversation took place one beautiful summer day in the park of the Chateau de Lepreneuse, situated a short distance from Paris in Brie. Mme. de Lepreneusft lived here with her daughter, Yveline. Since her widowhood she had renounced the world to devote herself exclusively to the education of her only child. She was still very beautiful and young, and her daughter was her exact copy. Yveline was 18 years old. Having been brought up in the country, she spent her life outdoors. Her face was fresh and rosy; her eyes bright and penetrating. She charmed every one by her natural grace. She had just reached the marriageable age and the guests of the chateau were more or less suitors for her hand.

Gaston de Maurebois, Yveline’scousip, •was an orphan, and since the death of his parents had lived an idle existence in Paris. He was 33 years of age, bald, distingue. In his spare moments he operated at the bourse and was associated with a broker at whose house most of his money was deposited. At 33 he was entirely blase, all pleasures ceased to interest him, his health was broken down. Gambling and pureblooded horses had diminished his fortune. He felt the need of repose and decided to marry. He remembered he

had a cousin somewhere, who ought to combine all desirable conditions. One day he arrived without warning at the Chateau de Lepreneuse. At the sight of Yveline he was at once her suitor. Karl Marienzi, one of the guests, was the son of a celebrated writer, friend of the family of de Lepreneuse. He was 28. His face was very expressive, his hair was black and long. He. had written an opera in one act, which had had great success. From an early age he was a constant visitor at the chateau, spending several months there during vacation. He was very intimate with the young girl and loved her passionately. The doctor was'a countryman. His father, an old friend of the house, had always been the physician of the family, his son succeeding him. The young doctor was slight, alert, and active; his face grave and tender. As a physician he was serious, charitable aDd possessed the entire confidence of Mme. de Lepreneuse. He loved Yveline, and profited by the least indisposition of her mother to renew frequently his visits. | The lovers were together on this day. Madame Lepreneuse, knowing she was

J etirounded by fiiends, allowed Yveline | all liberty—and the natural frankness of a young girl had been developed. She was bright and playful. The maneuvers of the three suitors amused her very much; she was fond of them all, and it would have been difficult for her to choose had it been necessary. The guests had separated, after awhile, leaving Yveline alone. Karl returned first. “This is the way you abandon me,” said Yveline. Karl excused himself and offered his arm for a promenade in the park. . “I am very happy to meet you,” said the young man. “I, too, Karl,” replied Yveline. ‘‘l wish to congratulate you on the success of your opera. What tender emotions you have experienced! Ido not believe there is in the most noble life more feeling than that experienced by artists. I envy your happiness.” "My happiness! is one ever satisfied?”

“What is wanting!” “I am alone; I want a friend, a companion who will share ray joys, who will sustain me in my declining hours—a woman whom I w ill adore, and for whom 1 will work with love in order that she may become proud of me.” “You are right, Karl; but you will find her.” “I have found her, Yveline,” said the young man, stopping to look the young girl in the face. She blushed and lowered her head to avoid his gaze. “The young woman ia yourself,” replied Karl. “Pardon my audacity on account of our old friendship. I love you, Yveline, and have for a long time.” “Karl, cease this conversation.” “Why? I love you devotedly.” “Please be quiet.” “Perhaps there are others, as I, seeking to please you, but no one would love you more. You are my constant thought, the aim of my existence. 1 love you more than all the world, more than my art. more than life.” “More than life?”

“Without you, it would be insupportable, Yveline. 1 would give it to you willingly.” “What spirit!” cried Yveline. “Until I ask such a sacrifice, leave me. Ido not wish to see you again until you are more reasonable.” “I will obey,” said Karl, retiring. “More than life! That is a great deal,” said Mile, de Lepreneuse to herself. “What does he mean? When one saj T s it one thinks it true; but ‘actions speak louder than words.’ ” She remained very pensive. Karl was not the only guest of the chateau who sought her hand; the doctor and her cousin, though they had not spoken, were dancing attendance. The cousin, who formerly paid her no attention, today was her shadow. Karl had assured her that he loved her more than life, which seemed very much exaggerated, and she wondered if the other suitors would love her as much. She roeolved to find out at the first opportunity. She was tfiqs reflecting when the doctor appeared* “Have you seen my mother, doctor?” “Yes, mademoiselle.” “Is the palpitation of tiie heart better?” “It has almost recovered.”

“Thanks to your good care. lam so grateful to you. She has left everything for me, and is all I have.” ” “Care shall not be wanting to her for your sake. I have great respect pod admit at ion for your mother, but I am devoted to you, and since cliauce has enabled me to find you alone ” "Is it chance?” asked Yveline. “I acknowledge that I planned it a little.” “For what aim?” “That is difficult to say. Have you not thought you were old enough to marry?” “No, doctor; no. never;have you?” replied Yveline, smiling mischievously. “I dream of it often, mademoiselle, and have formed a certain project.” “That you wish to tell me?” “You have guessed it mademoiselle; the project depends only on you to be realized.” “Then I know the young lady, doc-

tor?” “Oh, perfectly. You understand me. My most cheerful dream is to unite the two families. Pardon me for speaking to you before addressing your mother, but I wished to assure myself of your approbation.” “I warn you I am a little romantic and wish to be loved very much.” “It is thus you merit being loved, and the way I love you.” “I wish to be loved even to abnegation. Proofs arc necessary. If I wish it would you leave your mother, country, acquaintances?” “I would leave all.” “You would find me foolish, but would you sacrifice your life for me?” “I would give it with pleasure,” said the doctor, gravely. “Oh! if it were necessary not to satisfy a caprice.” H T love you more than life.” “Another one,” thought Yveline. “We will see,” said she. “Adieu! Take good care of my mother.” “As a son, mademoiselle,” replied the doctor, who returned to Mme. de Lepre ncuse.

Gaston de Maurebois appeared from one of the walks in the park. “I am happy chance has permitted me to see you,” said he to his cousin. “I also, cousin.” “I want to converse with you for an instant.” “Give me your arm and we will promenade.” “With pleasure.” “Do you know, cousin, it is very nice of you to leave Paris and its pleasures to visit a little girl relative?” “Who has become very charming.” “I did not know you were a flatterer?” ‘ ‘I am tired of Paris.

“You have not always said that.” “I changed my opinion when I saw you. At your side lam never tired. “How gallant.” “You mock me! lam serious. I find my life has been useless, in comparing the existence I have led with what I lead here, and I prefer the latter.” “For liow long?” “For always! Do you know I intend to marry?” “You are right; but your conversation is too grave for me. I must go. 1 ' She tried to withdraw her arra. .“Do not go, I beg you. Listen to me. I wish to marry, to spend my life with a companion whom I adore, having but ono aim, to render her happy. I only know one woman whom I wish to marry; it is you.” “I must escape,” said the young girl, disengaging her arm. “Yveline, I love you,” continued Gaston. “I will do anything you wish; I will leave Paris, if you desire it.” “Not so fast, not so fast. I do not wish to marry yet. This great love has come very suddenly.” “It is none the less violent.” “Will it be durable?” “I swear it.”

“I Am very exacting and an. not contented with words.” “Do you wish that ” “Would yousaorifieeoneof your horse* or your dogs?” “All.” “All, even your life?” “Anything to please you.” “Words, words!” She fled in the direction of the park, forbidding Gaston following her. When she was sure of being alone, she seated herself on a bank. “They all love me more than life,” murmured she. “Idonotbelieve.it. It may be true in theory, but false in practice. I wish I could put them to proof.” She w r ent on still further in the park. Gaston followed for a long while the direction she had taken, hoping to see her again. “I believe I have been eloquent. There is no use defending myself. lam decidedly in love. She has turned my head.” The doctor re-appeared, followed soon by Karl. “ Do you know what I think,” said Gaston, laughing; “it is that we look like suitors. As for myself, I am. ” “ I also,” said the doctor. “I pretend nothing else,” added Karl. “ Let us shakehar.ds,” replied Gaston. While shaking they heard suddenly a cry of despair in the park. “What's that,” cried they at the same time. Mme. Lepreneuse ran out. “Oh, God !” said she, “it is my daughter’s voice. What has happened to her ?”

! Yveline soon appeared, supported by her nurse. She was pale and trembling. “I am lost,” she cried; “at the end of the park I met the dog; he leaped upon me and bit me.” “ Quick ! Help ! Help ! ” exclaimed the suitors, and each one disappeared, save her mother, who fell upon her daughter. “Where are you bitten? Where?” The young girl showed her arm. Before she could prevent her and without reflecting on the danger Mme. de Lepreneuse sucked the wound made by the mad dog. The three lovers returned one after the other. First the doctor, with rolled bands and scissors in order to make a bandage; Karl followed next with a shovel, red with coals, and lastly Gaston arrived all out of breath, his forehead covered with perspiration, a whip in his hand.

“The carriage is ready,” cried he. “Go quick to Pasteur.” They, stopped, perfectly blank at the sight of Mme. dc Leprenuse sacrificing her life to save her daughter. Yveline withdrew her arm. “It is only a mother who loves more than life,” said she, regarding madame tenderly. “Pardon me, this is a subterfuge; the dog was not mad, it was ftnly the gardener’s dog. These gentlemen had assured me of their entire devotion. I wished to prove it. It is only a mother who loves more than life.”—[From the French by Jessie Lewis in the Boston Courier.