served. One day, as he was reproaching me for this, I answered: 'You
are now too old for jesting and too young for serious love. I'll wait.'

"I thought that this would end the matter. In the autumn he was sent to a
boarding-school. When he returned the following summer I was engaged to
be married. He understood immediately, and for a week he became so
pensive that I was quite anxious.

"On the morning of the ninth day I saw a little paper under my door as I
got up. I seized it, opened it and read: 'You have deserted me and you
know what I said. It is death to which you have condemned me. As I do not
wish to be found by another than you, come to the park just where I told
you last year that I loved you and look in the air.'

"I thought that I should go mad. I dressed as quickly as I could and ran
wildly to the place that he had mentioned. His little cap was on the
ground in the mud. It had been raining all night. I raised my eyes and
saw something swinging among the leaves, for the wind was blowing a gale.

"I don't know what I did after that. I must have screamed at first, then
fainted and fallen, and finally have run to the chateau. The next thing
that I remember I was in bed, with my mother sitting beside me.

"I thought that I had dreamed all this in a frightful nightmare. I
stammered: 'And what of him, what of him, Gontran?' There was no answer.
It was true!

"I did not dare see him again, but I asked for a lock of his blond hair.
Here--here it is!"

And the old maid stretched out her trembling hand in a despairing
gesture. Then she blew her nose several times, wiped her eyes and
continued:

"I broke off my marriage--without saying why. And I--I always
have remained the--the widow of this thirteen-year-old boy." Then
her head fell on her breast and she wept for a long time.

As the guests were retiring for the night a large man, whose quiet she
had disturbed, whispered in his neighbor's ear: "Isn't it unfortunate to,
be so sentimental?"

THE ENGLISHMAN OF ETRETAT

A great English poet has just crossed over to France in order to greet
Victor Hugo. All the newspapers are full of his name and he is the great
topic of conversation in all drawing-rooms. Fifteen years ago I had
occasion several times to meet Algernon Charles Swinburne. I will attempt
to show him just as I saw him and to give an idea of the strange
impression he made on me, which will remain with me throughout time.

I believe it was i