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Show THE WIFE'S REVENGE. I A Short Story from the French. 9 The circus was crowded. During the intermis- M sion people left their seats and mingled in the ffi throng going to look at the equine beauties in the H stables behind the ring. The clubman and the jockey rubbed elbows, fashion and labor jostled H and swayed back and forth in the crowd. The majority went to the stables to have a closer in- spection of the horses, as well as the riders; one m especially was creating a furore by her dashing m acts in the ring and her beauty of person. The Count and Countess D'Alvarays mixed with the throng; naturally enough on his part, they went towards the stables, as he was a cavalry officer, and an acknowledged judge of horses. Tall and distinguished in appearance, with long mustache, magnificent white teeth and an aristocratic bearing, bear-ing, the Count attracted everyone's attention as he passed along. Why did the Countess accompany accom-pany him instead of remaining in her box surrounded sur-rounded by admirers? Was this little Creole, whose soft, black eyes were languishing rather than brilliant, fond of sport? Possibly. "You surely are not thinking of going in among the sawdust?" said the Count to her as she arose from her seat to accompany him. "I certainly am," was her reply, in decided tones, and so together they descended to the stables. M. D'Alvarays approached a fierce-looking stallion who stood, covered with a blanket in his stall, ready to be called out when his turn came. The beast was biting viciously at the woodwork wood-work and pawing and snorting with impatience. Going nearer, the officer stooped for a closer inspection in-spection of the animal. Taking advantage of her husband's absorbed contemplation of the horse, the Countess made a ripid sign to the groom in blue livery, who immediately came to her, and as H rapidly handed him a purse, just as the Count jj turned, apparently without noticing her action, 11 his whole attention being directed to the stairway leading from the boxes to the ring, at the top of which stood the celebrated equestrienne, about to descend for her act. It was Louisa Kauffman, a German, with black hair which is the only sign of a brunette among the Germans about twenty-eight. twenty-eight. Perhaps her face was a trifle too thin and the expression stern, but her eyes were magnificent, magnifi-cent, arid her form superb, lithe, rounded and seductive se-ductive in glorious curves. M. D'Alvarays turned abruptly to his wife, while the man to whom the Countess had given the purse passed into the stall of a black horse standing ready equipped for the woman's ride, and quickly slipped his hand under the saddle; then he took the animal by the bridle and let it into the ring. The German came down the stairs slowly, and when she appeared ap-peared in the ring and vaulted lightly into the saddle, was greeted with thunders of applause, even the beast itself snorting a welcome. The spectators had nearly all regained their seats, when the young woman rode round the ring preparatory pre-paratory to her special act. All Pads knew that she was the mistress of the Count, and all Paris looked at the Countess wondering if she also was aware of the fact. The bell rang, Louisa took her place amid a storm of cheers. The wonderful evolutions were about to begin; she merited the appaluse, for her skill was marvelous marvel-ous and her grace enchanting. The Count looked on with assumed indifference, but not so the Countess. Coun-tess. She followed every movement of the daring rider with extraordinary interest, as leaning far out of her box the opera glasses trembled in the fixity of her gaze. Suddenly the horse became restive and would not obey the rider's rein, and when she used the whip the beast leaped frantically on its hind legs, and plunged from the ring into the crowd outside. A fearful yell went up as the horse bolted for the stables; then a cry of horror. The saddle had turned, the rider was thrown, striking her head violently against the post near the entrance, and fell, covered with blood. In an instant all was confusion and wild disorder; loud cries, imprecations, impre-cations, snorting of frightened horses, screams of women, and a rush of people to the spot where the bleeding equestrienne lay senseless. The Countess arose precipitately from her seat, her face ashy pale, and her hands trembling; she rushed to the door of the box. "Where are you going?" asked the Count. I "To see the wretched woman," she replied. Terrified, he followed her as she descended the stairway. Like a flash it all came to him. He recalled re-called the insistence of his wife upon accompanying accompany-ing him to the circus that evening. Then the visit to the stables, and lastly, the amazement with which he saw her in conversation with the groom of the circus. He comprehended it all. As they passed along the lobby, people were talking loudly of the accident. "It is a crime," said one. "How can that be?" "The girth was cut, and the groom has fled ; he cannot be found." D'Alvarays followed his wife helplessly, incapable of thought or action. The unfortunate rider was carried to the dressing dress-ing room and laid on a bench. Mme. D'Alvarays sent for her physician, and when he examined the sufferer and pronounced her case hopeless, the Countess leaned down and whispered something some-thing in her ear which convulsed the features of the dying woman. She suddenly raised her head to speak, but a burst of blood, which covered the Countess, came from her mouth instead of words, as she sank back and died. The New Yorker. |
