and twenty-five of them pay for the loans they obtain only one kreuzer, i.e., one-fifth of a penny; while about five hundred more pay rather less than a penny. And this is every farthing these people contribute to the working expenses of the institution, the cost of storing their goods, etc. Needless to say, the offices, far from deriving any benefit whatever from their business with this section of their customers, are the poorer for every visit they receive from them. Their kreuzer clientswhether one kreuzer or four-are in fact the recipients of their charity; for not only do they work for them gratis, but they deal out doles to them-in fractions of a penny. In addition to the six hundred and twenty-five clients who are a direct burden on their resources, the offices have some hundreds more-exactly how many it would be impossible to say-by whom they neither gain nor lose. The interest these persons pay on their loans is enough, though barely enough, to defray the expenses incurred on their behalf. Thus the offices do not clear one iota of profit by their transactions with the majority of their customers; what money they make is made entirely by their loans to the minority. And this minority consists, in part at least, of persons who are driven to pledge their goods not SO much by poverty, as by some sudden embarrassment. They have backed the wrong horse perhaps, or have lost more money at cards than they can afford, or some bill may have fallen due before they are quite prepared to meet it. At the offices they can obtain money more easily, and at a cheaper rate, than elsewhere; they can obtain it, too, without any fear of being subjected to sharp dealing. And this even though they be women who know no more about business than flies. Such clients as these are a regular source of income to the offices; and it is they who supply a goodly portion of the means by which the work is carried on there. Ten per cent. interest on a loan of one florin is hardly worth considering; but ten per cent. on one of one hundred-or better still, one thousand-florins is a very different matter. When the time comes for a man to redeem the pledge he has given, it may happen, of course, that he has not the money wherewith to do so. In this case he may, if he choose, repledge it. In the course of the year 1893 no fewer than 91.079 pawns were repledged. If, however, at the end of ten months from the time for which he pawned his possession he have neither redeemed it nor repledged it, it is put up for sale at a public auction. Should the sum for which it is sold be greater than that for which it was pledged, the difference is handed over to the original owner, providing he claim it within three years. Otherwise it becomes the property of the institution. One of the most remarkable facts in connection with the working of the offices is the very small number of cases in which the pawntickets are allowed to lapse. In the course of the year 1893, 866,015 articles were pledged, and 848,562 were redeemed. It is notable, too, that the unredeemed pledges consist almost entirely of jewellery. The present financial condition of the Imperial Pawn Office is on the whole satisfactory, considering the terms on which business is carried on there. Not only are these institutions entirely selfsupporting, but at the end of every year they find themselves richer than they were at the beginning. It must not be forgotten, however, that no interest is paid on the capital invested in them, which now amounts to some £315,000. In 1893 their income was 318,678 florins, and their expenditure 256,558 florins; thus their net gain for the year was 62,120 florins. The directors of the offices have only half of the profits at their disposal; as, owing to the fact that the greater part of the original capital of the undertaking was supplied by the Gross Armen Haus, they are obliged to hand over the other half to the Municipality of Vienna for the relief of the poor. Their Own share of the money is devoted to extending their business. The expense of starting the Feldgasse Office was defrayed out of the earnings of that in the Dorotheer- of the official valuers are, however, as gasse; and, at the present time, the the laws of the Medes, and this she eviunited profits of the two offices are dently knew; for she made no attempt being allowed to accumulate with a to induce them to give her more than view to a third being opened, as soon they offered. A great rough workman as the necessary capital has been saved. stepped into her place, and drew out of The modus agendi at the offices is his pocket, in a somewhat shamefaced simple in the extreme. The part of the fashion, a meerschaum pipe. "I shall building into which the public are ad- want it out again in a day or two," he mitted consists of long corridors, which remarked gruffly, as he went on his have, opening out of them, a series of way. Then a little old woman, who little windows of the same kind as those looked a thousand at least, presented through which in England we buy our with a thin, trembling hand a silver railway tickets. Within each window Crucifix. She watched with undistwo officials are stationed, valuers and guised anxiety the faces of the valuers ca-hiers at alternate windows. Who- as they examined it, and heaved a sigh ever wishes to pawn anything passes it of relief when she head how much they into the office by one of the valuers' were willing to give her. A smartly windows, if it be not too large, other dressed young person-a lady's maid wise by a door. The first valuer ex- one could see at a glance-was the next amines the article, notes on paper what to come forward, and her pledge was a he considers its worth, and hands it to diamond ring of considerable value. the second, who in his turn writes down She made some whispered communicathe amount at which he appraises it. tion to the valuer as she handed it to They compare their notes and then de- him; she was acting, it seems, for her cide how much may be safely advanced mistress. The whole morning long the on the security offered. This sum, or office was thronged with clients, for one smaller if the owner prefers it, is they who are in want of money are alinserted in two vouchers, and a number ways legion. A poorly clad, middlecorresponding to the number on them is aged woman, who looked too tired to affixed to the pledge. The thing is then live, slipped through the window a handed over to the storer, while the baby's coral. It was folded neatly in pawner betakes himself to the cashier's cotton wool, and she gave it a kiss be window, where, in return for one of his fore she let it go. The valuers seemed vouchers, he receives the money due to in doubt at first about accepting this him. The whole proceeding does not, pledge, it was such a poor little thing: as a rule, take up three minutes. but they ended by certifying that it was enough security for one gulden. Once the rustle of silk was heard, and there appeared at the window a lady whom the officials seemed to recognize, in spite of her thick black veil. Perhaps they knew her by her voice, which was singularly low and sweet. She had brought with her a beautifully-wrought Indian necklace, and was anxious to raise on it the very largest sum possible. A poor old woman burst into tears when she heard that her three little spoons were worth only five florins: while a girl-she was hardly out of her teens-who was told that her silver thimble was of no value at all, broke down completely. As she turned away. a man advanced with quite a jaunty air, A few months ago a chance visitor passed some little time in the Dorotheer, gasse Office, just within one of the windows through which the pledges are handed in to be valued. This special window is reserved for the élite among the pawners, i.e., those who have jewels, or other "precious things," to offer in exchange for money. The first to appear there that day was a girl who brought with her quite a formidable array of silver ornaments, brooches, bracelets, and a necklace. Her face flushed with anger when she heard the value set upon them. The things had cost her more than three times as much, she declared and they were as good as new, every one of them. The awards and asked for a loan on a much-bebattered old watch. The thing was of no use to him whatever, he announced; and that was why he was pawning it, not because he wanted the money. He treated the whole proceeding as a joke, yet his hand trembled as he clutched the vouchers, and there was something in his face that made one think of a wolf. This institution is a depressing resort, it must be confessed. The Emperor Josef I. certainly deserves to rank as a benefactor of his kind, if for nothing but the fact that he founded the Imperial Pawn Office. Hardly a day passes but some man or other finds there the means wherewith to ward off the ruin that threatens him. EDITH SELLERS. Translated for THE LIVING AGE. A GREAT CATCH. dozen or so of little huts inhabited by the vassals of the baron and by the laborers of the four vineyards which constituted his estate. From the village to the castle, one climbed by many a steep acclivity which terminated in a moat with a drawbridge. This moat was filled with water which came from a branch of the Eber half a league to the north of the fortress; a brook, growing deeper as it ran and turning into a noisy torrent as it plunged into a widespreading river. Built also upon an inaccessible flank of the mountain, separated from the castle by this torrent of water, and like. the castle itself, perched over the Eber, there was another rock, much smaller, crowned by a cabin and a little garden, built there by the daring hand of man. A wide walnut plank served as a bridge between castle and cabin, so that, if it were impossible to reach the first, the drawbridge being removed, it was also impossible to reach the second, the plank being taken up. We have already said that Don Jaime Mequinenza lived on the feudal rock, but we have not said that a fisher of eels lived upon the feudatory rock, and, moreover, the man was becoming rich, thanks to his daring thought of placing Covered with glory and with many wounds, but without a penny in his pocket-something that often happens to heroes-the noble Baron of Mequinenza returned one day to his dismantled castle to eat in peace the poor garbanzas entailed with his title. Two words about the warrior bold and his home in that lonely, exposed place. two more about his den. Don Jaime de Mequinenza, baron of the same name, a captain who had fought in the interests of Louis XIV., was, at this time, a man of thirty-five years, tall, handsome, brave and very enterprising, not fond of letters but extremely fond of a quiet chat with the pretty village maidens. Add to all this that he was an orphan, an only child, and a bachelor, and the reader may form an idea of our Aragonese hidalgo. As for the castle, it was his living image, except in strength, for solitude, poverty and loftiness. It was half built, half hewn from a rock which was lapped by the waves of the river Eber, on one side, and protected on the other by a lofty mountain whose summit towered high in the clouds. At the foot of this cliff, there were a 1 A kind of pea. Damian, as the fisherman was called, had conceived the idea of fastening to the little bridge two huge nets which formed bags. The cascade foamed and bubbled behind them and served as a sort of bulwark against the force of the waters. By this artifice, all the eels having gone out of their way, were obliged to make this jump to return to the Ebro, their cradle, and thereupon found themselves imprisoned in Damian's nets. By catching the fish in this easy way, he was able to undersell all the other fishermen. Now that we know the scene of our story let us pass on to other investigations. We have said that Damian was growing rich with such heavy nets, but we have forgotten to say that Damian, like many another man, had been stupid enough to marry a very pretty girl who was fond of dress and was a natural coquette. Carmela, that sweet variation of Carmen! (He called her Carmelita) was a rustic daughter of the little village. She did not know how to read nor did she care one jot, but she would have tempted St. Anthony himself if that worthy anchorite had not been aided by the grace of Heaven-and she had the grace of el Diablo. She was a blonde, as generally happens in such cases-petite, slender and graceful as a fawn. What a throat! What shoulders! What a pretty head! How gracefully she walked! Her complexion was as white as snow, as rosy as an afternoon in May and as fresh as the pure air of those mountain heights. She had a droop of the mouth that would have inspired a poet. Ay! Carmen, Carmela, Carmelita! what could poor Damian do but adore thee and hide thee on the summit of a rock, where thou wast defended from the world by a feudal castle, where no one could visit thee by day without being seen by all the village, nor walk around thy cabin by night, except five hundred feet below it. But, like many other women of equal merit, Carmela dressed for her own pleasure when she could not arouse the admiration of her neighbors, so that, in spite of living alone and not being seen by any one, except on the few nights her husband was at home, she spent a good part of the money gained by selling eels, in aprons, basques, earrings, and other things which poor Damian never noticed, although the rogue wore them before his very eyes. Impressed, perhaps, by her lofty station in the world, Carmela adorned herself every day as if for a ball, then she seated herself at the door of the cabin. There the birds gazed upon her, the flowers and the heavens, but nothing more. However, she quietly awaited the hour of her destiny. The castle, the only dwelling near the cabin, was completely deserted (we refer to the state of things before the return of Don Jaime de Mequinenza), and from the valley the fisherman's wife looked like a huge, bright colored flower, clinging to the side of the abyss. Therefore, the admirer for whom Carmela longed so ardently could only come through the air, that is, supposing always that she wished to have an admirer. "Then Carmela did not love her husband!" some one exclaims. How do I know? I can only say that she was very pretty and that she lived alone, for Damian spent the greater part of his life selling eels in the markets. Moreover, he had forbidden her to go down to the village during his absence, and she obeyed her husband implicitly-the Church demands itand the dainty señora did not care for the rustic, uncouth countrymen. But you will say that Damian was also a rustic, uncouth countryman, and therefore I intend to say that Carmela did not care for him. Well then, she did not care for him. Why should she care for a rough, badly dressed man, with hardened, calloused hands, sunburnt, weatherbeaten and smelling of fish at a yard's distance, while she was SO dainty, so elegant, and as presumptious as a Madrilena. It is true that if the poor fisherman paid little attention to his personal appearance, his beautiful wife paid a great deal to hers. It is also true that if the husband had toiled less, in order to care for his hands, the wife would have had to work more, thus losing the delicacy of hers. It is true that with the fish with its disagreeable odor, the sweet smelling soap is bought, but what woman cares to reflect, especially a woman of nineteen years, as pretty, light and graceful as the seven colors of the rainbow? Ah, gratitude is a sentiment little welcomed by a person infatuated with herself, and justice is an idea too serious for a girl who laughs by herself, and Carmela liked to laugh by herself in front of the glass. This all signifies that the fisherman's beautiful wife had fallen in love with Don Jaime de Mequinenza from the time it was noised about in the village that this gentleman had returned, victorious, to his ancestral castle. Don Jaime had indeed returned, and as he already loved her en 1 Native of Madrid. especie, as a great scholar once put it, he be repeated-the hour in which we rehad only to see her to adore her. Damian, in the mean while fished for eels. Nevertheless, ever since the return of the baron, a vague uneasiness had awakened in the soul of the jealous husband. Although for many years there had been implanted in his heart a deep respect for the lord of the castle, he could not help thinking that Don Jaime was a gallant gentleman and that Carmela was very pretty. Moreover, from the castle to the cabin it was not so far as from the cabin to the village, especially if one considered the walnut bridge. So it happened that Damian, pretending to have rheumatism in his foot had hired a boy to sell the fish and scarcely left the cabin. Don Jaime and Carmela were already tired of telegrams, as they say to-day, and were madly in love with each other -something sure to happen between two who look at each other and cannot speak. Platonism had become insupportable, the distance immense and the bridge passable. They waited with anxiety for Damian's first trip to market, in order to have an interview alone. All this had been arranged by signs and a divination. It was a beautiful afternoon in May. Husband and wife were seated at the door of their cabin watching the sunset. That sun which was sinking behind the horizon, a century and a half ago, is the same sun that we see to-day. That afternoon it sank behind the mountains with as much solemnity and majesty as if it never intended to rise again. It was one of those sublime moments in which it seems as if time itself had stopped. One of those fêtes of nature not handed down to history, one of those radiant and glorious days in which it seems as if the world had reached the height of her beauty and that all past time had been a period of adolescence, just as all future time would be a descent, a painless old age which would end in nothing. It was that melancholy hour in which the soul takes part in the tragedy of the death of a day, as if it were a new spectacle, never to member the beings we have known and loved and who have passed from us, and we feel ashamed of living a life they have left. Carmela and Damian gazed at the setting sun whose last rays tinged the sky with a sort of prophetic light, in which their perturbed spirits might be said to be reflected. Uncultivated and rough as they were by nature, both felt, at that moment, perhaps on account of the agitation in their souls, that the setting sun of that day ought not to be regarded with the indifference of other days, that this was for them a critical and predestined hour, an hour of mystery and fatality. Perhaps for this same reason, their limited natures did not permit them to give account of what they felt nor to analyze the unformed images of life and death, of foreboded pains, which seemed to be piled up in the East as the sun sank to rest. Great was the terror of these guilty ones who kept silence, fearing to reveal their secrets. They did not look at one another, nor wonder at this reciprocal reserve. It sometimes happens in certain tragic moments that a power is awakened in us, more clear than the intelligence itself and utterly independent of the will; and this faculty, conceived and executed by itself alone, had established already, between the wife who intended breaking her marriage vows and the jealous husband who was planning an assassination, a sort of intuition which served as a tacit agreement, or unpremeditated complicity that neither the one nor the other should be astonished at a silence so long and unjustified at first. When the sun had disappeared from sight, both breathed more freely as if they had finished a task of many hours. The contract was signed. The resolution of the two was as irrevocable as the death of that day. They finally looked at each other without fear or reserve. Damian did more. He raised his eyes to the castle and saluted the señor baron who was looking fixedly at Carmelita, who, in |