Comedy and Tragedy

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A gentle smile played on the lips of Monseigneur le Prince Gautier de Severac. Inwardly he was debating on the relative merits of poison and the sword as a means of ridding himself of a rival, but Monseigneur le Prince had never been one to take the world into his confidence by allowing his expression to match his thoughts. He was very angry. It was an impossible position he had fallen into. He, a prince of the house of Savoy, had permitted himself to fall in love with a mere actress, and she, instead of praising Heaven for her astounding good fortune, preferred, if there was any truth in rumor, the captain of the Prince's bodyguard to his august self. To test the truth of the rumor, the Prince had lately sent this captain, Jacques Duval, with a note to the actress, and had commanded a faithful spy to dog Duval's heels and note his every action. Monseigneur le Prince looked up as the spy entered. "Well?" At the reception of Mademoiselle Yvette Bordeaux, the Prince enjoyed himself extremely. It pleased him to order Duval about like a lackey in the presence of the woman they both loved. Yvette, who sensed Duval's danger, grew pale with fright. When at length the Prince conceived the brilliant plan of dispatching Duval to Yvette with a necklace, and following close on his officer's heels. Yvette saw his waiting figure outside the door. To save the life of the man she loved, Yvette turned coldly from Duval to the Prince, and begged him to fasten the necklace about her neck himself. He did so, and kissed her. Duval rushed from the room with heart turned to stone. Later in the evening, the assembled company begged Mademoiselle Yvette to prove to them whether she was better in comedy or tragedy. Yvette, in compliance with their request, started to act a little scene of comedy. Just as she finished, a note was brought to her. It was from Duval, and said simply that he was to fight the Prince immediately, that the Prince would certainly kill him, and that he was glad to die. She staggered, nearly fell, and started blindly for the door. The company applauded, and pushed her back. She looked at them dully, "I must go to him. He is dead," she said simply. "Ah," cried the old actor, who had proposed the wager, "It is the very perfection of tragedy." When Yvette at last reached the garden, a shrouded figure was lying on the ground. As she stumbled toward it, it seemed to her that light had left the world forever. She lifted the cloth from the face, and it was the Prince. Then Duval came to her, and the stars came out again, and the moon shone.