He never wrote more than a few pages of "Geneviève." He got worse and worse. But even so, the end came all too suddenly, and on the night of the 2nd of June he died--died as nearly as possible at the exact moment when Galli-Marié at the Opéra Comique was singing her song of fate in the card scene of the third act of his "Carmen." The coincidence was true enough. That night it was with difficulty that she sung her song. Her nervousness, from some cause or another, was so great that it was with the utmost effort she pronounced the words: "La carte impitoyable; répétera la mort; encore, toujours la mort." On finishing the scene, she fainted at the wings. Next morning came the news of Bizet's death. And some friends said--because it was not meet for them to see the body--that the poor fellow had killed himself. Small wonder if it were so! Six Drawings By Aubrey Beardsley I. II. III. The Comedy-Ballet of Marionnettes, as performed by the troupe of the Théâtre-Impossible, posed in three drawings IV. Garçons de Café V. The Slippers of Cinderella _For you must have all heard of the Princess Cinderella with her slim feet and shining slippers. She was beloved by Prince ----, who married her, but she died soon afterwards, poisoned (according to Dr. Gerschovius) by her elder sister Arabella, with powdered glass. It was ground I suspect from those very slippers she danced in at the famous ball. For the slippers of Cinderella have never been found since. They are not at Cluny._ _HECTOR SANDUS_ VI. Portrait of Madame Réjane [Illustration: First Comedy-Ballet] [Illustration: Second Comedy Ballet] [Illustration: Third Comedy Ballet] [Illustration: Garçons de Café] [Illustration: The Slippers of Cinderella] [Illustration: Portrait of Madame Réjane] Thirty Bob a Week By John Davidson I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw, And set the blooming world a-work for me, Like such as cut their teeth--I hope, like you-- On the handle of a skeleton gold key. I cut mine on leek, which I eat it every week: I'm a clerk at thirty bob, as you can see. But I don't allow it's luck and all a toss; There's no such thing as being starred and crossed; It's just the power of some to be a boss, And the bally power of others to be bossed: I face the music, sir; you bet I ain't a cur! Strike me lucky if I don't believe I'm lost! For like a mole I journey in the dark, A-travelling along the underground From my Pillar'd Halls and broad suburban Park To come the daily dull official round; And home again at night with my pipe all alight A-scheming how to count ten bob a pound.