living heroines are now white-haired, plunged me into the deep
melancholy of things. Oh, the young brows where blond locks curl, the
caress of the hands, the glance which speaks, the hearts which beat, that
smile which promises the lips, those lips which promise the embrace! And
the first kiss-that endless kiss which makes you close your eyes, which
drowns all thought in the immeasurable joy of approaching possession!

"Taking these old pledges of former love in both my hands, I covered them
with furious caresses, and in my soul, torn by these memories, I saw them
each again at the hour of surrender; and I suffered a torture more cruel
than all the tortures invented in all the fables about hell.

"One last letter remained. It was written by me and dictated fifty years
ago by my writing teacher. Here it is:

"'MY DEAR LITTLE MAMMA:

"'I am seven years old to-day. It is the age of reason. I take
advantage of it to thank you for having brought me into this world.

"'Your little son, who loves you

"'ROBERT.'

"It is all over. I had gone back to the beginning, and suddenly I turned
my glance on what remained to me of life. I saw hideous and lonely old
age, and approaching infirmities, and everything over and gone. And
nobody near me!

"My revolver is here, on the table. I am loading it . . . . Never reread
your old letters!"

And that is how many men come to kill themselves; and we search in vain
to discover some great sorrow in their lives.

AN ARTIFICE

The old doctor sat by the fireside, talking to his fair patient who was
lying on the lounge. There was nothing much the matter with her, except
that she had one of those little feminine ailments from which pretty
women frequently suffer--slight anaemia, a nervous attack, etc.

"No, doctor," she said; "I shall never be able to understand a woman
deceiving her husband. Even allowing that she does not love him, that she
pays no heed to her vows and promises, how can she give herself to
another man? How can she conceal the intrigue from other people's eyes?
How can it be possible to love amid lies and treason?"

The doctor smiled, and replied: "It is perfectly easy, and I can assure
you that a woman does not think of all those little subtle details when
she has made up her mind to go astray.

"As for dissimulation, all women have plenty of it on hand for such
occasions, and the simplest of them are wonderful, and extricate