THE STRAND MAGAZINE
An Illustrated Monthly

Between the Acts
Crimes and Criminals.
Giovanni
Zig-zags at the Zoo
Actors' Make-Up.
Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of Their Lives.
Stories from the Diary of a Doctor.
Illustrated Interviews.
Beauties.
From Behind the Speaker's Chair.
Singing Bob.
How Composers Work.
The Land of Youth
The Queer Side of Things.
Pal's Puzzle Page.
Transcriber's Notes

"SHE WAS CLUTCHING THE FATAL TELEGRAM."

(See page 116.)

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BETWEEN THE ACTS

Translated from the French of M. Blowitz.

It was in 1870, when war had just been declared.

MacMahon had received orders to cross the frontier, and strike a decided blow against the combined armies of North and South Germany.

In Paris, as indeed throughout the whole of France, everyone was in a state of feverish anxiety; but in the gay capital, the Parisians endeavoured to make the days of suspense pass more quickly by féting the expected victory.

One could hear the clinking of glasses at the out-door restaurants, the music of the cafés-chantants, and the carriages filed incessantly along the broad avenue of the Champs Elysées.

The theatres, too, were well patronized, particularly one on the Boulevards a certain evening when Mlle. Jeanne de Bolney was to make her début.

The papers had foretold a most brilliant success for the beautiful young actress, who was so marvellously gifted, and who would no doubt become the star of the season. She had chosen for her début "La Dame aux Camélias," which was at that time in the height of its popularity, and the author himself had said that the rôle of Marguerite might have been written for this talented young actress, so admirably did it suit her in every respect. From the very first act it was quite evident that her beauty and her talent had not been overrated.

The sight of her even had won all hearts. A faultless figure, a delicate, refined face, with lips which were at once proud and tender, eyes of deep blue with the most frank expression, a perfectly shaped head, and a carriage which would have done honour to any queen.

At the sight of this exquisite creature a murmur of approbation ran through the house and interrupted, for a few seconds, the dialogue.

At the end of each scene the ovations increased, and after the second act there was a perfect explosion of applause. Among those who were most delighted at Jeanne's triumph was a young man who belonged to the theatre—Louis Belcourt. It was through his influence that she had succeeded in making her début, for the manager of this theatre always preferred pupils from the Conservatoire.

Louis had known and loved Jeanne from boyhood, and there was something infinitely noble and touching in this devoted yet hopeless love. It was, indeed, of a kind rarely seen in any man, for it had not blinded him, and he could see and admire the good qualities of his rival—the man to whom Jeanne had given all her love.

It had been very romantic, the engagement of the beautiful young actress. A short time before, at the Longchamps races, she had been glancing at the grand stand, where Napoleon III. and the ladies of the Court were seated, when suddenly she became aware of two handsome dark eyes fixed upon her. She looked away, but, as though fascinated, a few minutes later she glanced again at the place behind the Court ladies, and she saw a military-looking man, whose face was bronzed by the southern sun, and who had risen from his seat and was gazing earnestly at her, as though he too were fascinated by some spell.

Not long after, Roger de Morfeuille, officer in the Emperor's regiment, had discovered who Jeanne was. It was an extraordinary engagement; no word of the future had been spoken between them. Roger knew that he would have to leave, for war had been declared, and that until the result of that war should be known he could promise nothing. The subject of the future was not even broached between