I learned enough, however, to know that twenty-one years had
actually elapsed since my wonderful experience with Arletta of Sageland,
and felt convinced beyond a doubt that the beautiful young girl, who
took such an interest in my welfare, was impelled by the same soul as my
noble instructress in Natural Law. But I was intensely mystified and
unable to conceive what had become of the time between the going of the
one and the coming of the other Arletta.
Twenty-one years had been swallowed up as completely as if they had
never been. Nearly one-half of my life had passed away, of which I could
give absolutely no account. A look into the mirror was a convincing
proof of this fact, for therein I saw a white-haired and premature old
man, with a thin, haggard and drawn countenance, which plainly showed
the results of having lived a life of hardship, and almost
unrecognizable as my own face. My heavy black mustache was gone, and in
its place nothing but white stubble remained. The more I endeavored to
reach some tangible solution of the mystery, the more confused I became.
According to the girl, Arletta's story, I had been introduced to her at
a reception in Paris three years previously, had apparently fallen
desperately in love with her, and made myself obnoxious by following her
everywhere she went for several months. But as neither she nor her
parents liked me, I was finally eluded, and had not been seen for over
two years. According to her account, I was generally looked upon as a
rich gentleman of leisure and bad habits, who did nothing but travel and
spend money recklessly.
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