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Updated: May 19, 2025
At the most impassioned, most expressive passages of the music, Rosa Blondelle would lift her eloquent blue eyes to those of Lyon Berners, who responded to their language. And Sybil stood in the shadow near them, with pallid cheeks, compressed lips, and glittering eyes mute, still, full of repressed anguish and restrained fury. Ah, Rosa Blondelle, take heed!
But a greater trial awaited the jealous wife in the evening, when they were all gathered in the drawing-room, and Rosa Blondelle, beautifully dressed, seated herself at the grand piano, and began to sing and play some of the impassioned songs from the Italian operas; and Lyon Berners, a very great enthusiast in music, hung over the siren, doubly entranced by her beauty and her voice.
Slowly and sorrowfully Rosa Blondelle shook her head, murmuring sadly: "No woman ever was my friend. I know not why." "I can easily imagine why. But in regard to my dear wife, you are mistaken. Surely she has proved herself your friend." "She is a noble lady, and I honor her. She is my benefactress, and I thank her. But she is not my friend, and so I do not love her."
My mother, a plain spoken old lady, blurted out the truth how Mr. Horace Blondelle, after imposing a worthless check upon me, in payment of my bill, had absconded with his valet, and been missing ever since the night of the dinner-party, and that she, Mrs. Blondelle, had slept profoundly through all these events. "Oh, what a dreadful tale for the poor young wife to hear!" sighed Sybil.
'Tis well my soul shakes off its load of care; 'Tis only the obscure is terrible; Imagination frames events unknown, In wild, fantastic shapes of hideous ruin, And what its fears creates. Upon the snow-white bed the form of Rosa Blondelle, wrapped in pure white raiment, was laid out.
He resolved to break off, at once and forever, the foolish flirtation with a shallow coquette which his deep-hearted Sybil had taken so earnestly. How to do this, occupied his thoughts now. He knew that it would be difficult, or impossible to do it, as long as Rosa Blondelle remained in the same house with himself.
I live again!" murmured Rosa, with a sigh of relief. "And now you are sufficiently rested, the music is striking up for a lively quadrille, and so, if you please, we will join the dancers and dance away dull care!" said Lyon Berners, rising and offering his arm to Rosa Blondelle. She arose and took his arm. He led her to the head of a set that was about to be formed.
Blondelle, and being alarmed lest her shrieks should bring the house upon him and occasion his capture, he impulsively sought to stop her cries by death; and then that, hearing your swift approach down the stairs leading into her room, he made his escape through the window." "But then the windows were all found, as they had been left, fastened," objected Sybil.
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