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diff --git a/old/23362-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/23362-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bad4c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/23362-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,1014 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski + +Author: Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23362] +Last Updated: September 20, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADEMOISELLE OLYMPE ZABRISKI *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MADEMOISELLE OLYMPE ZABRISKI + </h1> + <h2> + By Thomas Bailey Aldrich + </h2> + <h3> + Boston And New York Houghton Mifflin Company + </h3> + <h4> + Copyright, 1873, 1885, and 1901 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + We are accustomed to speak with a certain light irony of the tendency + which women have to gossip, as if the sin itself, if it is a sin, were of + the gentler sex, and could by no chance be a masculine peccadillo. So far + as my observation goes, men are as much given to small talk as women, and + it is undeniable that we have produced the highest type of gossiper + extant. Where will you find, in or out of literature, such another droll, + delightful, chatty busybody as Samuel Pepys, Esq., Secretary to the + Admiralty in the reigns of those fortunate gentlemen Charles II. and James + II. of England? He is the king of tattlers as Shakespeare is the king of + poets. + </p> + <p> + If it came to a matter of pure gossip, I would back Our Club against the + Sorosis or any women’s club in existence. Whenever you see in our + drawing-room four or five young fellows lounging in easy-chairs, cigar in + hand, and now and then bringing their heads together over the small round + Japanese table which is always the pivot of these social circles, you may + be sure that they are discussing Tom’s engagement, or Dick’s extravagance, + or Harry’s hopeless passion for the younger Miss Fleurdelys. It is here + old Tippleton gets execrated for that everlasting <i>bon mot</i> of his + which was quite a success at dinner-parties forty years ago; it is here + the belle of the season passes under the scalpels of merciless young + surgeons; it is here B’s financial condition is handled in a way that + would make B’s hair stand on end; it is here, in short, that everything is + canvassed—everything that happens in our set, I mean, much that + never happens, and a great deal that could not possibly happen. It was at + Our Club that I learned the particulars of the Van Twiller affair. + </p> + <p> + It was great entertainment to Our Club, the Van Twiller affair, though it + was rather a joyless thing, I fancy, for Van Twiller. To understand the + case fully, it should be understood that Ralph Van Twiller is one of the + proudest and most sensitive men living. He is a lineal descendant of + Wouter Van Twiller, the famous old Dutch governor of New York—Nieuw + Amsterdam, as it was then; his ancestors have always been burgomasters or + admirals or generals, and his mother is the Mrs. Vanrensselaer Van-zandt + Van Twiller whose magnificent place will be pointed out to you on the + right bank of the Hudson, as you pass up the historic river towards + Idlewild. Ralph is about twenty-five years old. Birth made him a + gentleman, and the rise of real estate—some of it in the family + since the old governor’s time—made him a millionaire. It was a + kindly fairy that stepped in and made him a good fellow also. Fortune, I + take it, was in her most jocund mood when she heaped her gifts in this + fashion on Van Twiller, who was, and will be again, when this cloud blows + over, the flower of Our Club. + </p> + <p> + About a year ago there came a whisper—if the word “whisper” is not + too harsh a term to apply to what seemed a mere breath floating gently + through the atmosphere of the billiard-room—imparting the + intelligence that Van Twiller was in some kind of trouble. Just as + everybody suddenly takes to wearing square-toed boots, or to drawing his + neckscarf through a ring, so it became all at once the fashion, without + any preconcerted agreement, for everybody to speak of Van Twilier as a man + in some way under a cloud. But what the cloud was, and how he got under + it, and why he did not get away from it, were points that lifted + themselves into the realm of pure conjecture. There was no man in the club + with strong enough wing to his imagination to soar to the supposition that + Van Twiller was embarrassed in money matters. Was he in love? That + appeared nearly as improbable; for if he had been in love all the world—that + is, perhaps a hundred first families—would have known all about it + instantly. + </p> + <p> + “He has the symptoms,” said Delaney, laughing. “I remember once when Jack + Hemming “— + </p> + <p> + “Ned!” cried Hemming, “I protest against any allusion to that business.” + </p> + <p> + This was one night when Van Twiller had wandered into the club, turned + over the magazines absently in the reading-room, and wandered out again + without speaking ten words. The most careless eye would have remarked the + great change that had come over Van Twiller. Now and then he would play a + game of billiards with De Peyster or Haseltine, or stop to chat a moment + in the vestibule with old Duane; but he was an altered man. When at the + club, he was usually to be found in the small smoking-room up-stairs, + seated on a fauteuil fast asleep, with the last number of The Nation in + his hand. Once, if you went to two or three places of an evening, you were + certain to meet Van Twiller at them all. You seldom met him in society + now. + </p> + <p> + By and by came whisper number two—a whisper more emphatic than + number one, but still untraceable to any tangible mouthpiece. This time + the whisper said that Van Twiller <i>was</i> in love. But with whom? The + list of possible Mrs. Van Twillers was carefully examined by experienced + hands, and a check placed against a fine old Knickerbocker name here and + there, but nothing satisfactory arrived at. Then that same still small + voice of rumor, but now with an easily detected staccato sharpness to it, + said that Van Twiller was in love—with an actress! Van Twiller, whom + it had taken all these years and all this waste of raw material in the way + of ancestors to bring to perfection—Ralph Van Twiller, the net + result and flower of his race, the descendant of Wouter, the son of Mrs. + Van-rensselaer Vanzandt Van Twiller—in love with an actress! That + was too ridiculous to be believed—and so everybody believed it. Six + or seven members of the club abruptly discovered in themselves an + unsuspected latent passion for the histrionic art. In squads of two or + three they stormed successively all the theatres in town—Booth’s, + Wallack’s, Daly’s Fifth Avenue (not burnt down then), and the Grand Opera + House. Even the shabby homes of the drama over in the Bowery, where the + Germanic Thespis has not taken out his naturalization papers, underwent + rigid exploration. But no clue was found to Van Twiller’s mysterious + attachment. The <i>opéra bouffe</i>, which promised the widest field for + investigation, produced absolutely nothing, not even a crop of suspicions. + One night, after several weeks of this, Delaney and I fancied that we + caught sight of Van Twiller in the private box of an up-town theatre, + where some thrilling trapeze performance was going on, which we did not + care to sit through; but we concluded afterwards that it was only somebody + who looked like him. Delaney, by the way, was unusually active in this + search. I dare say he never quite forgave Van Twiller for calling him + Muslin Delaney. Ned is fond of ladies’ society, and that’s a fact. + </p> + <p> + The Cimmerian darkness which surrounded Van Twiller’s inamorata left us + free to indulge in the wildest conjectures. Whether she was black-tressed + Melpomene, with bowl and dagger, or Thalia, with the fair hair and the + laughing face, was only to be guessed at. It was popularly conceded, + however, that Van Twiller was on the point of forming a dreadful <i>mésalliance</i>. + </p> + <p> + Up to this period he had visited the club regularly. Suddenly he ceased to + appear. He was not to be seen on Fifth Avenue, or in the Central Park, or + at the houses he generally frequented. His chambers—and mighty + comfortable chambers they were—on Thirty-fourth Street were + deserted. He had dropped out of the world, shot like a bright particular + star from his orbit in the heaven of the best society. + </p> + <p> + The following conversation took place one night in the smoking-room:— + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Van Twiller?” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s seen Van Twiller?” + </p> + <p> + “What has become of Van Twiller?” + </p> + <p> + Delaney picked up the Evening Post, and read—with a solemnity that + betrayed young Firkins into exclaiming, “By Jove, now!”— + </p> + <p> + “Married, on the 10th instant, by the Rev. Friar Laurence, at the + residence of the bride’s uncle, Montague Capulet, Esq., Miss Adrienne Le + Couvreur to Mr. Ralph Van Twiller, both of this city. No cards.” + </p> + <p> + “Free List suspended,” murmured De Peyster. + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me,” said Frank Livingstone, who had been ruffling the leaves + of a magazine at the other end of the table, “that you fellows are in a + great fever about Van Twiller.” + </p> + <p> + “So we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has simply gone out of town.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Up to the old homestead on the Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s an odd time of year for a fellow to go into the country.” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone to visit his mother,” said Livingstone. + </p> + <p> + “In February?” + </p> + <p> + “I did n’t know, Delaney, that there was any statute in force prohibiting + a man from visiting his mother in February if he wants to.” + </p> + <p> + Delaney made some light remark about the pleasure of communing with Nature + with a cold in her head, and the topic was dropped. + </p> + <p> + Livingstone was hand in glove with Van Twilier, and if any man shared his + confidence it was Livingstone. He was aware of the gossip and speculation + that had been rife in the club, but he either was not at liberty or did + not think it worth while to relieve our curiosity. In the course of a week + or two it was reported that Van Twiller was going to Europe; and go he + did. A dozen of us went down to the Scythia to see him off. It was + refreshing to have something as positive as the fact that Van Twiller had + sailed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + Shortly after Van Twiller’s departure the whole thing came out. Whether + Livingstone found the secret too heavy a burden, or whether it transpired + through some indiscretion on the part of Mrs. Vanrensselaer Vanzandt Van + Twiller, I cannot say; but one evening the entire story was in the + possession of the club. + </p> + <p> + Van Twiller had actually been very deeply interested—not in an + actress, for the legitimate drama was not her humble walk in life, but—in + Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski, whose really perilous feats on the trapeze + had astonished New York the year before, though they had failed to attract + Delaney and me the night we wandered into the up-town theatre on the trail + of Van Twiller’s mystery. + </p> + <p> + That a man like Van Twiller should be fascinated even for an instant by a + common circus-girl seems incredible; but it is always the incredible thing + that happens. Besides, Mademoiselle Olympe was not a common circus-girl; + she was a most daring and startling gymnaste, with a beauty and a grace of + movement that gave to her audacious performance almost an air of prudery. + Watching her wondrous dexterity and pliant strength, both exercised + without apparent effort, it seemed the most natural proceeding in the + world that she should do those unpardonable things. She had a way of + melting from one graceful posture into another, like the dissolving + figures thrown from a stereopticon. She was a lithe, radiant shape out of + the Grecian mythology, now poised up there above the gaslights, and now + gleaming through the air like a slender gilt arrow. + </p> + <p> + I am describing Mademoiselle Olympe as she appeared to Van Twiller on the + first occasion when he strolled into the theatre where she was performing. + To me she was a girl of eighteen or twenty years of age (maybe she was + much older, for pearl-powder and distance keep these people perpetually + young), slightly but exquisitely built, with sinews of silver wire; rather + pretty, perhaps, after a manner, but showing plainly the effects of the + exhaustive drafts she was making on her physical vitality. Now, Van + Twiller was an enthusiast on the subject of calisthenics. “If I had a + daughter,” Van Twiller used to say, “I would n’t send her to a + boarding-school, or a nunnery; I ‘d send her to a gymnasium for the first + five years. Our American women have no physique. They are lilies, pallid, + pretty—and perishable. You marry an American woman, and what do you + marry? A headache. Look at English girls. They are at least roses, and + last the season through.” Walking home from the theatre that first night, + it flitted through Van Twiller’s mind that if he could give this girl’s + set of nerves and muscles to any one of the two hundred high-bred women he + knew, he would marry her on the spot and worship her forever. + </p> + <p> + The following evening he went to see Mademoiselle Olympe again. “Olympe + Zabriski,” he soliloquized, as he sauntered through the lobby—“what + a queer name! Olympe is French, and Zabriski is Polish. It is her <i>nom + de guerre</i>, of course; her real name is probably Sarah Jones. What kind + of creature can she be in private life, I wonder? I wonder if she wears + that costume all the time, and if she springs to her meals from a + horizontal bar. Of course she rocks the baby to sleep on the trapeze.” And + Van Twiller went on making comical domestic tableaux of Mademoiselle + Zabriski, like the clever, satirical dog he was, until the curtain rose. + </p> + <p> + This was on a Friday. There was a matinée the next day, and he attended + that, though he had secured a seat for the usual evening entertainment. + Then it became a habit of Van Twiller’s to drop into the theatre for half + an hour or so every night, to assist at the interlude, in which she + appeared. He cared only for her part of the programme, and timed his + visits accordingly. It was a surprise to himself when he reflected, one + morning, that he had not missed a single performance of Mademoiselle + Olympe for nearly two weeks. + </p> + <p> + “This will never do,” said Van Twiller. “Olympe”—he called her + Olympe, as if she were an old acquaintance, and so she might have been + considered by that time—“is a wonderful creature; but this will + never do. Van, my boy, you must reform this altogether.” + </p> + <p> + But half past nine that night saw him in his accustomed orchestra chair, + and so on for another week. A habit leads a man so gently in the beginning + that he does not perceive he is led—with what silken threads and + down what pleasant avenues it leads him! By and by the soft silk threads + become iron chains, and the pleasant avenues Avernus! + </p> + <p> + Quite a new element had lately entered into Van Twiller’s enjoyment of + Mademoiselle Olympe’s ingenious feats—a vaguely born apprehension + that she might slip from that swinging bar; that one of the thin cords + supporting it might snap, and let her go headlong from the dizzy height. + Now and then, for a terrible instant, he would imagine her lying a + glittering, palpitating heap at the foot-lights, with no color in her + lips! Sometimes it seemed as if the girl were tempting this kind of fate. + It was a hard, bitter life, and nothing but poverty and sordid misery at + home could have driven her to it. What if she should end it all some + night, by just unclasping that little hand? It looked so small and white + from where Van Twiller sat! + </p> + <p> + This frightful idea fascinated while it chilled him, and helped to make it + nearly impossible for him to keep away from the theatre. In the beginning + his attendance had not interfered with his social duties or pleasures; but + now he came to find it distasteful after dinner to do anything but read, + or walk the streets aimlessly, until it was time to go to the play. When + that was over, he was in no mood to go anywhere but to his rooms. So he + dropped away by insensible degrees from his habitual haunts, was missed, + and began to be talked about at the club. Catching some intimation of + this, he ventured no more in the orchestra stalls, but shrouded himself + behind the draperies of the private box in which Delaney and I thought we + saw him on one occasion. + </p> + <p> + Now, I find it very perplexing to explain what Van Twiller was wholly + unable to explain to himself. He was not in love with Mademoiselle Olympe. + He had no wish to speak to her, or to hear her speak. Nothing could have + been easier, and nothing further from his desire, than to know her + personally. A Van Twiller personally acquainted with a strolling female + acrobat! Good heavens I That was something possible only with the + discovery of perpetual motion. Taken from her theatrical setting, from her + lofty perch, so to say, on the trapeze-bar, Olympe Zabriski would have + shocked every aristocratic fibre in Van Twiller’s body. He was simply + fascinated by her marvellous grace and <i>élan</i>, and the magnetic + recklessness of the girl. It was very young in him and very weak, and no + member of the Sorosis, or all the Sorosisters together, could have been + more severe on Van Twiller than he was on himself. To be weak, and to know + it, is something of a punishment for a proud man. Van Twiller took his + punishment, and went to the theatre, regularly. + </p> + <p> + “When her engagement comes to an end,” he meditated, “that will finish the + business.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Olympe’s engagement finally did come to an end, and she + departed. But her engagement had been highly beneficial to the + treasury-chest of the up-town theatre, and before Van Twiller could get + over missing her she had returned from a short Western tour, and her + immediate reappearance was underlined on the play-bills. + </p> + <p> + On a dead-wall opposite the windows of Van Twiller’s sleeping-room there + appeared, as if by necromancy, an aggressive poster with Mademoiselle + Olympe Zabriski on it in letters at least a foot high. This thing stared + him in the face when he woke up, one morning. It gave him a sensation as + if she had called on him overnight, and left her card. + </p> + <p> + From time to time through the day he regarded that poster with a sardonic + eye. He had pitilessly resolved not to repeat the folly of the previous + month. To say that this moral victory cost him nothing would be to deprive + it of merit. It cost him many internal struggles. It is a fine thing to + see a man seizing his temptation by the throat, and wrestling with it, and + trampling it under foot like St. Anthony. This was the spectacle Van + Twiller was exhibiting to the angels. + </p> + <p> + The evening Mademoiselle Olympe was to make her reappearance, Van Twiller, + having dined at the club, and feeling more like himself than he had felt + for weeks, returned to his chamber, and, putting on dressing-gown and + slippers, piled up the greater portion of his library about him, and fell + to reading assiduously. There is nothing like a quiet evening at home with + some slight intellectual occupation, after one’s feathers have been + stroked the wrong way. + </p> + <p> + When the lively French clock on the mantel-piece—a base of malachite + surmounted by a flying bronze Mercury with its arms spread gracefully on + the air, and not remotely suggestive of Mademoiselle Olympe in the act of + executing her grand flight from the trapeze—when the clock, I + repeat, struck nine, Van Twilier paid no attention to it. That was + certainly a triumph. I am anxious to render Van Twiller all the justice I + can, at this point of the narrative, inasmuch as when the half hour + sounded musically, like a crystal ball dropping into a silver bowl, he + rose from the chair automatically, thrust his feet into his walking-shoes, + threw his overcoat across his arm, and strode out of the room. + </p> + <p> + To be weak and to scorn your weakness, and not to be able to conquer it, + is, as has been said, a hard thing; and I suspect it was not with + unalloyed satisfaction that Van Twiller found himself taking his seat in + the back part of the private box night after night during the second + engagement of Mademoiselle Olympe. It was so easy not to stay away! + </p> + <p> + In this second edition of Van Twiller’s fatuity, his case was even worse + than before. He not only thought of Olympo quite a number of times between + breakfast and dinner, he not only attended the interlude regularly, but he + began, in spite of himself, to occupy his leisure hours at night by + dreaming of her. This was too much of a good thing, and Van Twiller + regarded it so. Besides, the dream was always the same—a harrowing + dream, a dream singularly adapted to shattering the nerves of a man like + Van Twiller. He would imagine himself seated at the theatre (with all the + members of Our Club in the parquette), watching Mademoiselle Olympe as + usual, when suddenly that young lady would launch herself desperately from + the trapeze, and come flying through the air like a firebrand hurled at + his private box. Then the unfortunate man would wake up with cold drops + standing on his forehead. + </p> + <p> + There is one redeeming feature in this infatuation of Van Twiller’s which + the sober moralist will love to look upon—the serene unconsciousness + of the person who caused it. She went through her <i>rôle</i> with + admirable aplomb, drew her salary, it may be assumed, punctually, and + appears from first to last to have been ignorant that there was a + miserable slave wearing her chains nightly in the left-hand + proscenium-box. + </p> + <p> + That Van Twiller, haunting the theatre with the persistency of an + ex-actor, conducted himself so discreetly as not to draw the fire of + Mademoiselle Olympe’s blue eyes shows that Van Twiller, however deeply + under a spell, was not in love. I say this, though I think if Van Twiller + had not been Van Twiller, if he had been a man of no family and no + position and no money, if New York had been Paris and Thirty-fourth Street + a street in the Latin Quarter—but it is useless to speculate on what + might have happened. What did happen is sufficient. + </p> + <p> + It happened, then, in the second week of Queen Olympe’s second unconscious + reign, that an appalling Whisper floated up the Hudson, effected a landing + at a point between Spuyten Duyvel Creek and Cold Spring, and sought out a + stately mansion of Dutch architecture standing on the bank of the river. + The Whisper straightway informed the lady dwelling in this mansion that + all was not well with the last of the Van Twillers; that he was gradually + estranging himself from his peers, and wasting his nights in a play-house + watching a misguided young woman turning unmaidenly somersaults on a piece + of wood attached to two ropes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vanrensselaer Vanzandt Van Twiller came down to town by the next + train to look into this little matter. + </p> + <p> + She found the flower of the family taking an early breakfast, at 11 a.m., + in his cosey apartments on Thirty-fourth Street. With the least possible + circumlocution she confronted him with what rumor had reported of his + pursuits, and was pleased, but not too much pleased, when he gave her an + exact account of his relations with Mademoiselle Zabriski, neither + concealing nor qualifying anything. As a confession, it was unique, and + might have been a great deal less entertaining. Two or three times in the + course of the narrative, the matron had some difficulty in preserving the + gravity of her countenance. After meditating a few minutes, she tapped Van + Twiller softly on the arm with the tip of her parasol, and invited him to + return with her the next day up the Hudson and make a brief visit at the + home of his ancestors. He accepted the invitation with outward alacrity + and inward disgust. + </p> + <p> + When this was settled, and the worthy lady had withdrawn, Van Twiller went + directly to the establishment of Messrs Ball, Black, and Company, and + selected, with unerring taste, the finest diamond bracelet procurable. For + his mother? Dear me, no! She had the family jewels. + </p> + <p> + I would not like to state the enormous sum Van Twiller paid for this + bracelet. It was such a clasp of diamonds as would have hastened the + pulsation of a patrician wrist. It was such a bracelet as Prince + Camaralzaman might have sent to the Princess Badoura, and the Princess + Badoura—might have been very glad to get. + </p> + <p> + In the fragrant Levant morocco case, where these happy jewels lived when + they were at home, Van Twiller thoughtfully placed his card, on the back + of which he had written a line begging Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski to + accept the accompanying trifle from one who had witnessed her graceful + performances with interest and pleasure. This was not done + inconsiderately. “Of course I must enclose my card, as I would to any + lady,” Van Twiller had said to himself. “A Van Twiller can neither write + an anonymous letter nor make an anonymous present.” Blood entails its + duties as well As its privileges. + </p> + <p> + The casket despatched to its destination, Van Twiller felt easier in his + mind. He was under obligations to the girl for many an agreeable hour that + might otherwise have passed heavily. He had paid the debt, and he had paid + it <i>en prince</i>, as became a Van Twiller. He spent the rest of the day + in looking at some pictures at Goupil’s, and at the club, and in making a + few purchases for his trip up the Hudson. A consciousness that this trip + up the Hudson was a disorderly retreat came over him unpleasantly at + intervals. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to his rooms late at night, he found a note lying on the + writing-table. He started as his eye caught the words “——— + Theatre” stamped in carmine letters on one corner of the envelope. Van + Twiller broke the seal with trembling fingers. + </p> + <p> + Now, this note some time afterwards fell into the hands of Livingstone, + who showed it to Stuyvesant, who showed it to Delaney, who showed it to + me, and I copied it as a literary curiosity. The note ran as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Van Twiller, + + Dear SiR—i am verry greatfull to you for that Bracelett. it + come just in the nic of time for me. The Mademoiselle + Zabriski dodg is about Plaid out. my beard is getting to + much for me. i shall have to grow a mustash and take to some + other line of busyness, I dont no what now, but will let you + no. You wont feel bad if i sell that Bracelett. i have seen + Abrahams Moss and he says he will do the square thing. Pleas + accep my thanks for youre Beautifull and Unexpected present. + + Youre respectfull servent, + + Charles Montmorenci Walters. +</pre> + <p> + The next day Van Twiller neither expressed nor felt any unwillingness to + spend a few weeks with his mother at the old homestead. + </p> + <p> + And then he went abroad. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mademoiselle Olympe Zabriski, by +Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADEMOISELLE OLYMPE ZABRISKI *** + +***** This file should be named 23362-h.htm or 23362-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/3/6/23362/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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