erally bribe. The station-master, though a very grand personage, indeed, in his uniform and metal-bound cap, became pliant a

t delay or lose a profitable engagement, by the proceeds of which they could redeem their paraphernalia. While listening, the man dealt out the tickets, pocketed the gratuity which was handsomely added to a previous donation, and, without any surprise, agreed to let any one calling take away the horses; th

ct knowledge of her origin, she was more explicit on the family of her cousin than

e with the Czar, but two daughters were growing up with such a superabundance of charm that they promised to be no mean allies in the enterprise. But fortune did not altogether favor the widow; it is true that she interested a Russian of great wealth and political sway, but when the time came for his co-operation to be active, he played her a wicked trick. He attracted her elder daughter to him and married her. Not liking to have a mother-in-law in his mansion, he pe

. Petersburg. He was afraid to injure himself by giving countenance to his brother's relict, who was always seeking an audience of the Emperor. It was strongly suspected that she

m. The pair, spurred on by the police of every capital, and all are in communication with St. Petersburg, at last rested in Paris. It was a favorable moment; the French government had offended the older powers by its presumption in chastising venerable Austria almost as severely as the Great Napoleon had done. The Dobronowskas were let alone in the imperial city on the Seine; but, unfortunately, the important state functionaries soon became as tired of the countess's plaints as their brothers on the Neva. Reduced to the shifts of the penniless aristocrats, the two lived like the shabby genteel. They made a desperate attempt to entrap their Grand-duke again. But the victim had warning and the pair were stoppe

her elder had done, with happiness at home as the object; one fine morning, married M. Pierre Clemenceau, a young but rising sculptor. He had on the previous visit of theirs to Paris, materially befriended them. It was only gratitude after all, a

dy and a loving husband's blind confidence. The end was inevitably tragical. Lergins was decoyed by the countess to Paris, where she languished like a shark out of water. The sculptor's income did not come up to her dreams of luxury, any more than tho

g blemished her appearance; no excesses, no indulgements, not even bearing a son had a blighting effect. Unfortunately for the di

s to visit her, though occupying princely quarters, outshining the fading La Mesard an

the wrinkles came many and fast. One day, annoyed at the persistency with which a friend of Clemenceau's watched the queen of the disreputable in hopes to make her flagrancy a cause for legal annulment of

rce of depravity should no farther flow to corrupt the finest and best. He entered the boudoir of

enuating circumstances in the act and brought in the verdict of murder. The good men were incapable of appreciating the right he claimed to stop the blighting career of

head beneath the axe with a martyr

net the imperial counsel, and M. Constantin Ritz, a famous sculptor's son, and the life-companion of Cle

ide for morality's sake, had pointed out to his son the way whic

rina was, like himself, well within the circle of infamy. Her mother was the sister of the shameful Iza, and her husband's careful guard of her proved that he doubted her walking virtuously if her unscrupulous mother stood by her side. This old Megara-who sold her offspring to worse than death-was living-seemed eternal as evil itself. It were a pious act to save K

M. Rollinet was no longer there, having accepted a judgeship in Algeria. In the

he life of an artist, lounging in galleries, sketching ruins an

ich, on her peerless lips, seemed divine, "I should

sion as the journey ended, but the

aimed, as the carriage

settled for the young lady's stay.

suggested in a letter announcing her renunciation of her scheming mother's toils and her return to marry Clemenceau, t

of us can find a mate in marriage easily. If blood stains me, shame is reflected on you. Let us efface both blood and shame by an

say," said the one-night diva, with a curl o

t you I should have lost my life, or, certainly my liberty-I am eternally bound to you.