Tragedy

HENRY WILLIAM HANEMANN

OUTSIDE, it was snowing bitterly. Inside, it was not snowing at all, bitterly or otherwise.

I can give no other reason for this, than that "inside" was the polished interior of a handsome house. The house had a roof, not to mention four warm walls.

The walls and the roof did their share to keep the snow in its proper place.

Caramella — beautiful child-woman — was in the inside. Soon enough would she be on the outside.

For her husband had said she must go. And, as her husband paid the rent, to say nothing of whatever bills she might incur from time to time, Caramella could find no logical argument with which to thwart his desire.

She had plead. She had wept; oh. how she had wept! But her tears and her pleadings had been in vain. The mind of her husband was made up.

"Go!" said he, enriching the'simple command with a few descriptive terms unnecessary to our context.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Caramella — child-woman and wife — went.

Caramella went; down the broad stairs, turn to the left; down the other broad stairs, turn to the right, and through the front door.

It was still snowing bitterly—outside. As she stepped into the covered vehicle that took her away, she shivered.

Her husband, watching through the parted silken curtains of an upstairs window, laughed bitterly, showing his white and cruel teeth.

"Good Lord!" he gloated, "how site hates to go to the Opera!"