People's Pilot, Volume 4, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 February 1895 — STRANGE CASE OF MDURAND. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

STRANGE CASE OF MDURAND.

oUnl E who would form S, ® his mind, settle filly his judgment fjvjjjji and create for Will his old age a | fund of agreear ble recollections should travel a great deal. M. Cyprian Du-

rand, architect of the cathedral of M , presi dent of the council of church war dens, father, and even grandfather of a family, and decorated with the Romau medal of the Order of Saint tiregorv the Great, because of the unalterable purity of iiis litorals and the precepts that he practiced, had made but one voyage, one only, yet he swore that never again would he be, persuaded to make another. That voyage had lasted but one day and night. I.ut the provision of memories collected by M. Durand in that very brief while was sufficient to last him a lifetime. For, truly, it is not the lot of ev. ryone to become the hero of an adventure, and it is an adventure, even an extraordinary adventure, that befell the worthy architect in the short space of time necessary to arrive at Paris, to descend at a hotel, to go to bed and to sleep there, to be awakened by a cominissaire of police and dragged to the station house under the serious accusation of broken marital vows. He. the good Durand, who swore only by the 11,000 virgins! The model Durand, for forty years past the virtuous husband of the most virtuous of wives, and the most influential member and contributor to the Order of Anthonv the chaste!

Pooh! Nonsense! an idle tale, my friend, go. tell it to another! Pardon me, not a bit of it, a procesverbal, flagrante delietu, made out by the commissaire himself iu the presence of witnesses and of the outraged husband. A proces-verbal that bore upon it tcxtnally and specifically as follows:—“and in that aforesaid chamber we found, side by side, feigning to sleep, Mine. Virginia Cardinal and M. Cyprian Durand.” It was all on account of M. Fortune, Gustave Adolph Cardinal, whom we are compelled to designate, all the same, as the “unfortunate” Cardinal, since he was the husband of the too susceptible Virgime Cardinal, for he had really had for some time past some reason to suspect the fidelity of his pretty better lr-ilf. In order to clear up these suspicions. he put in practice the eternal feint —the only one, apparently that never grows gray with age, and set oft' on a pretended voyage of two or three clays. He strapped his valise, tenderly embraced his wife, and regretfully departed. Yirgiuie, leaning from the window. saluted with a sigh of satisfaction the fiacre bearing away her husband: then, hotfooted. put on her hat, gloves and mantle, and ran to carry the happy news to a young lawyer’s clerk, very strong in sentiment, and exercising n idle moments the functions of third assistant in a bailiffs office. “No. not at your house, ray friend,” aid lie. “Your Cardinal might reurn. which would surely be awk- ' ard. nor at my house either,because r n the neighbors. 1 know, however, •> snug little hostelry in the line .Montmartre where the chops are per*

‘■’ROM WiIEX’CK CAME THIS JEZEBEL"?'* fcot and where no one would ever cream of looking for us. Come, let ;i3 start." And in a very few hours Virginie had the long-dreamed-of pleasure of dining in a private cabinet, then of passing the evening at the FoliesUergere. where the honest Cardinal had always refused to take her because of the "‘ladies’’ one met there. It was close, upon 1? o’clock when, the representation over, her eyes shining, her cheeks like roses, and tenderly leaning upon the arm of the third assistant, she took her way to tixe little hostelry, whose chops were equalled, but not excelled by its dis- < re lion. Meanwhile, the suspicious Cardinal bad dismissed his fiacre and taken up bis post, en sentinel, at the corner of the street, his eyes obstinately fixed on the door of his house. As I told you, it was only a few minutes when raadatne appeared, all fresh and radiant in a beautiful toilette that she had purchased but a day or two before, on the anniversarv of their wedding day. S -eing his wife so charming and enticing, cardinal had a vertigo of anger, and was ready to fling himself there and then upon his faithless better half, only fear of scandal restrained him. lie buried himself in a doorway of a neighboring hou-e and remained there, glued against the wall. I’oor Cardinal, coming out from his concealment, followed her at a dist luce, with the concentrated attea-

i lion of a hunter pursuing a trace, i Moreover, keeping her so well iu view that when, at 1 o'clock in the morning, accompanied by the magistrate of the quarter, he rang at the door of the little Montmartre hostelry, he was absolutely certain of his misfortune. Yet, amazing to say. when, at last the third assistant decided to obey the summons of the commissaire of police an l had opened the door, and the magistrate had rummaged the bed, in and under it, inspected all the nooks and corners and scrutinized even the mysteries of the cabinet du toilette, he found not the slightest trace of the third assistant's charming companion. Monsignor Cardinal, it seems to me, ought to have been exceedingly well pleased that the innocence of his better half had been proved in this brilliantand unexpectedly triumphant manner: but strange contradiction of the human heart.his first surprise past, felt himself angered and humiliated, and resumed his rummaging around, even into the drawers of the wardrobe and commode. “I am sure of my facts,” he stubbornly responded to the inquiring gaze of his police companions and the confident smile on the lips of the third assistant. “I am sure of my facts, and we must look every where.” No evidence resulting, however, they were about to lift the siege. The magistrate had already given the signal of departure, but just at this moment the idea came to him to turn the handle of a door to one side, communicating with the adjoining chamber, and from whence escaped the continuous sound of a robust snoring. The handle turned, and the door opened without the smallest difficulty. Followed by the husband, the commissaire entered the room, where the arrival of two men and a lantern at this hour of the night naturally awaken -d M. Durand, at the moment when, deliciously plunged in a seraphic dream, traversed by the wings of archangels, he was accompanying the celestial choir with all the power of his most convincing snore. And there, the truth must be told, beside the pious sleeper, th > worthy Fortune Cardinal resound his lost Virginia.

"You will rise at once and follow me. monsieur,’' said the commissi ire severely to the bishop’s archit -ct. for here and now I charge you with unbecoming conduct with Madame Yirginie Cardinal, wife of this gentleman present.” "Madame Cardinal! what are you talking about?” demanded M. Cyprian Durand, brusquely torn from the beatitudes of his dream, and stretching eyes misty with sleep and blinking weakly under the sudden eruption of light. “What Madame Cardinal are you talking about?” “She who is lying beside you,” returned the commissaire, with reproachful dignity. The president of the church wardens turned his head quickly and saw for the first time the charming features of the pretty Yirginie. wh >, red now as a cardinal flower, modestly lowered her eyes. “From whence comes this jezebel, and how caine she in my bed?” shouted the worthy architect, bewildered with fright and bounding from his covers. Rut he cried out and protested ali for nothing, and swore vainly that he knew absolutely nothing of a single word of the adventure; that he had just arrived at Paris, and was the father and grandfather of a family. Nothing availed him. The debt was flagrant, consequents undeniable. That which had happened was very easily explained to all save the co nmissaire. Mine. Cardinal and the third assistant,hearing the rap on the door and the ominous “In the name of the law,” had hastily, and l'or a while unsuccessfully sought a place of concealment. Over in the corner was a door. The poor woman turned the handle swiftly, it yielded, she entered and found herself in blackness, troubled only by the snorings of a heavy sleeper. She stood still for a second, irresolute and listening, but when the re resounded in the room she had left the voice of her husband she lost her head, advanced by feeling till she encountered a bed, and softly hid under the covers, so softly that the sleeper never an instant interrupted his snoring. Of course the outraged husband knew the innocence of the good M. Durand, but that was of no consequence, he held to his vengeance, and fast to him till he could plead for adi vorce.in spite of the desparing supplications of the unhappy architect, who was shame crushed,and who dared not for his life return to M because of his wife, his bishop, and Ins virtuous brothers of the order of Saint Anthony, the chaste. Wliat a scandal! What an uproar! What would they say at M when the terrible news reached there, and how was it all to end? But one thing is certain, if Cyprian Durand ever does return to his home, it will be, a s stated at the outset, with memories to last him a lifetime and the firm determination, no matter what happens, never to journey from M again for so much as an hour.