The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1884-01-26 00:00:00

FIS

Good supply. Trade, however, ratner dull. Prices .
Salmon, is 63 to 25 per lb„. plaice, 31 to 4(1 per lb. ; fresh
haddocks, 2d to 3d per lb ; cod, 21 to 4d per lb.; cod
I;perlb .1; b.
e;
els, slips,
i.O d6d te led per
(middle), 3d to bd per lb.; turoot, 8d to Is per lb. ; brill 6a
lb.
!cliepnler3nlb6.o;ies3o,le4s,disto 61ds 3d.e rto
to is per
lb. ; conger eels, 3d to 4(1 per lb. ; skate, Oct per lb.;
smelts, is to 2s per basket; mussels, 4d to 6d per
gallon; whitin7s, 2s to 4s per dozen ; herrings, Od to 2s per
dozen ; kippers, 93 to 2s 6,1 per dozen American oysters, 41
to 9.1 per dozen; Anglo Portm..ne:,o dirt°, 7(1 to 10d per
dozen ; Dutch ditto, is 6(1 to 2s per d.zen ; native ditto,
Is 0(1 to 2s (id per doz,u ; escallops, 61 to S(1 per doz,Jl :
thri.l)i:S, IA to 6.; p. r i:ltit ; ......,,ku-s, 21 per pint ; whAlcs,
1(1 to 21 per piut ; lob-.,.ers, G.i to 2$ eich; crabs, 41 ttl
20 on each ; dried had(Locks,ll to is euell.

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,1 ;

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

CRIME IN AN OMNIBUS.

A STORY OF PARISIAN LIFE.

BY FORTUNE DU BOISGOBEY

Translated from the French"

CHAPTER
" LES jours se soivent, et ne se ressemblent pas," as
he proverb says.
On the day following the journey in the omnibus
-vhich had ended so sadly, bright winter sunshine
ghted up the Place Pigalle.
The temperature had suddenly risen, the fountain
:.tn'e more threw up its wAers towards the blue
!:Ity, and the Italian models, sitting on the steps
round the basin, basked contentelly in the sun's
varm rays as they waited before the studios.
Paul Freneuse WilB as gay as the weather. A good
'light's rest had quieted the excitement of the even-
`3lg- before, and chased away all gloomy visions. He
no longer thought of his adventure, except to pity
the dead girl, and to congratulate himself on not
saving considered as s-.rious the ridiculous conchs-
'ions of his friend 13inos.
He had in the course of the morning received a
,isit from an inspector, sent by the Commissary of
a,'olice—not so much to interrogate as to talk with
him, for the doctor who had examined the corpse
had already declared the death to have been acci-
dental, no signs of foul play being perceptible.
'The poor girl must have succumbed to an internal
hemorrhage, and had been taken to the Morgue to
be exposed to public view, as nothing about her
-served to show her identity. Tho facts of the case
did not admit of the supposition that a crime had
been committed; upon this point the evidence of
the omnibus conductor was very clear.
In making his deposition before the commissary
• hel ridiculed the idea of the passenger who called
out on reaching the station that the girl had ham
assassinated, and demonstrated at once that such a
.suggestion was quite devoid of common sense.
This passenger was Paul Freneuse, whom the
commissary knew well by repute, his name having
already acquired a certain celebrity; nor was it
difficult to find him, he having left his address with
the police.
hut Fr.:mouse had so completely changed his mind
on the subject that he thought it unnecessary to
mention to the inspector the chain of reasoning with
whiak that fool 13;nos had entertained him over his
beer. He merely stited, therefore, what he had
seen without making comments or reflections.
So every one being of the same mind, Freneuse,
relieved from an unpleasant anxiety, ate his break-
fast with a good appetite, and returned to work with
his wonted enthusiasm.

lie was then completing a picture upon which he
depended for making a decided mark in the coming
Salon, achieving such a success as would assure him
a distinct advance in his profession. The subject
was the figure of a girl—a Roman maiden—watch-
ing a goat at the foot of the tomb of Cecilia
Metella.
Ho had been fortunate enough to discover a model
who appeared to have been created expressly to
realise his dreams, and to furnish him with the
requisite type of beauty.
She was a young girl, almost a child, whom he
met one day coming down from the heights of
Montmartre, and who asked him the way to the
Jardin des Plantes.
Freneuse had been for years in Dome, and there-
fore knew enough Italian to direct the little
.creature in the only language she really under-
stood.

He afterwards inquired what she was doing in
Paris, and she readily replied, without embarass-
znent, that she had just been brought there by a
compatriot, whose business was to find Italian
.models of both sexes' and bring them to Paris, and
who lived in the Rue des Fossr's, St. Bernard,
near the Halle aux -Vins, in a large house where
lodged many organ grinders and . other itinerant
musicians.

She was a native of :Subiaco, and her childhood
had been passed in herding goats among the rocky
wi'ds of the Sabine Mountains. The mother, who
had been dead a year, had gained a living by sitting
to artist in the studios of Rome. She had never
known her father, but passed as the daughter of a
French painter, who, :after a residence of several
years in Italy, had quitted the country without
troubling himself about her. She had an e'der

sister, who, when very young, had left her home as
the pupil of a man who trained young voices for the
Ttalian stage, and who constantly sought recruits for
his classes.

Paul Freneuse, marvelling at the child's beauty,
• at once resolved to secure this -fresh and unknown
model; who had not as yet sat to any artist, and
immediately spoke to the man who brought her to
Par's, arranging in writing with him for a consider-
able sum that Pia—sa the child was called—should
be lodged comfortably in a separate room, that she
should be sent every day to sit in his studio, and
that all offers of other artists for her should be
refused.-

So during the last five months Pia had not once
failed to arrive at midday at the Place Pigalle, and
Paul treated her less as a hired model than as a
-friend,

Pia's beauty was by no means of a common type.
She bore no resemblance to the ordinary Italian baby
'faces, that have all the same big black eyes, the same
-rather full red lips, the same clear, dark complexions;
that seem, in fact, all cast in the same mould.
"• Though undoubtedly belonging to the race that
has furnished models to painters of every age, she
possessed the expression which is wanting in nearly
all the females of her country, her physiognomy
being-at once mobile and intelligent, full of character
•and vivacity.
Nor was its promise unfulfilled; for "Tia had a
candid disposition, combined with a good under-
standing-, and a wonderful faculty for acquiring
knowledge. In a few months she spoke French
ell, althongh on'arriving in:Paris she had not known
a word of it. She greatly amused Freneuse by her
apt remarks and unexpected repartees, and he was
often astonished by the correctness of her ideas on all
"subjects of every every-day life, and even upon the
fine arts, for which she exhibited a strong taste. She
steni:hecl him still more by her wisdom fliad tact.
This wonderful little maid, who could go nowhere
-without eN citing admiration, had not the shadow of
coquetry about her, and knew how to keep at a duo
distance any too-ardent admirers, and inspire them
with respect. She continued to wear the costume of
her country without spoiling it by the addition of
Paris fashions, so often adopted by her compeers. No
shawl had ever covered her graceful shoulders, nor
boots imprisoned her perfect feet—feet that had
leen wont to press the wild thyme of the mountains.
And she lived like a saint, never going out except
o the studio of Freneuse, and mixing as little with
her compatriots as with the other women who, in
Paris, follow the somewhat dangerous profession of
mod els. '

Although, thanks to Paul's generosity, she was no
longer obliged to herd with the poor young Italians
brought from their country by a master who lived
on their earnings, or lead the same wretched exist-
ence imposed upon them, yet she continued to dwell
in the house hue des Foss ..,Saint Pernard, but
completely separated from the vagabond colony
encamped in that species of barracks. -
She occupied a little chamber in the roof—a
narrow garret with white-washed walls and no
furniture but an iron bedstead, three rush-bottomed
chairs, and a broken mirror. There she passed her
time when not at the studio in reading—she had
learnt to read—in singing the sown of her native
'mountains, and in dreaming—of what Freneuse
amused himself sometimes by asking, and she told
him she did not know herself. Perhaps she mused
Over her fifteen years just completed.
What she earned by sitting to her benefactor
sufficed for all her wants, and oven beyond them, for
She ate scarcely more than a bird, and spent but
little upon clothing, although fastidiously nice about
her person and her garments.
She was gay—a quality rare among the Romans—
gay with that frank cheerfulness that only absence
of cares and inward contentment can give. When
the entered Paul's studio joy came w.th her. But
for the last month Freneuse had fancied her less
joyous—more reserved, more pensive; in a word,
less. childish. She no longer played with his
favourite cat—a superb Angora which had bestowed
its affections
_upon her, and always si-rang on her
lar

ip when she had taken up her reqUired pc
These symptoms appeared serious to the artist.
he understood the nature of the young girls trans-
planted from Italy into France, who pine at first
in the colder cliTate, but who ripen all at once in
the first warm ray of sunshine. He suspected the
commencement o; a little lore story.
To satisfy himself he gently qu, stioned the girl;
but insfead of replying she, began to cry. Ile was
• -, _

_.owilling to prei-s-her—, although the suspicion that
bad crossed his mind kaddoned him for Freneuse
Vas fond of the child, and it grieved him to think
she was perhaps falling
.fo‘ilishly in love with some
coarse goat-herd, come 'rani the Alum-, i to reap a
fortune of sous in Paris by playing the hurdy-gurdy.
Ile wondered sometimes it he were growing jealous,
and then reproaeherl himself for forgetting his
twenty-nine years, n, ally double those of Pia. lie
would become grave, almost cold, and the rest of tho
sitting would pass without his saying a single word
to the poor child, who would carry home a bursting
heart.
But the day following his adventure in the omni-
bus was one of Paul's good days. The certainty
'that he was not concerned even indirectly in a
judicial enquiry made him quite joyous, and he
chatted gaily with the little goat-herd as she half
-
reclined at the end of the studio against a high stool
that did duty for a block of marble detached from
the tomb of Cecilia Metella.
"Pia, my pretty one," said Paul, laughingly, "do
You know that yesterday evening I was nearly climb-
ing' your six flights of sia.irs to surprise you? I was
,irg in your port of the world."
And pyy n --.-r ri the cbild.
came to s-e me," e..e_ _
€'l should
,-1-I,d to show
you- my little
room ; it it 7o now. I have thre V,c't,;} Of.;
flow
elrs aml • iltrB betIlltif1111Y;OASI lirrkt
YOU owe it a! i " kPed. d•ttil*Xl4
~ 1
amerin Cie way. It is varrel.,
thahl,l i:,re, thy garret. And then

—to come without giving notice —i' faith 1 did not
dare. I might have encountered a lover—"
Pia turned pale, and her eyes filled with tears.
"Why should you say that she murmured.
"You know quite well I have no lover."
" Come, come, littla one," answered Frenenso
gaily, "do not cry; you spoil your beauty, and dis-
turb the pose. Used you to cry when you led your
goats to graze up among the mountains ?"
"No, never; and I do not hero except
when you try to vex ME. It is only you who maka
me cry-77"

And laugh too. Come, smile again, or I shall
think you are offended. I was not speaking
seriously."_

"Alit that is right. There, I have forgotten it
already. But, please, pleased° not say nave a lover.
Where should I find one? G oodheaven ! At home at
cur house all the lads that work for Father Lorenzo are
ugly and mischievous as moi:keys. In the Place
Pigalle F—on the steys of the fountain? If you
looked out at the window as I came along you would
se I never stopped there. lam far too anxious to
reach your studio to warm myself and to kiss my
friend Mirza. Ah ! he is my lov, r."
The Angora that was purring near the stove
heard his name and si rang at a bound on to Piit's
hnFes, who went on laughing. "lie lo es me well,
this fellow; he comes without being called; and ho
never tries to vex me."

"Quite right, little one, 3.lirza is a good beast.
lie is worth more than I am, or than that scamp
Binos who only comes here to torment you."
" Oh, he. Ido not mind him ; but you, -Monsieur
Taul—when you begin to laugh at me I lose my
head, and my pose! See, I had not moved since the
beginning of the sitting, and now that you have
tea7ed me I do not know how to place myself."
" As you were just now—the head thrown a litt!e
more back. Look at me, send Mir a down, and stay
quite still."
Pia did as Prenens,e told her, and the cat ct-tried
himself round again in his favourite spot.
" It is perfect like that," resumed the painter,
"and as you are such a good girl, I will t,ll you
tat I did not go up to say good evening to you
yesterday because it was too late when I passed near
Toizr rttuct —a quartcr to twelve. E‘ery ono wils
asb.ep in the barracks where Lorenzo lodges his fife
pla vers."
" I was not asleep," said Pia very softly.

" What! at such-an untimely hour! That is not
right, little one. Girls of your age ought to go to
Led he the sparrows—at the Ave !aria, as they
say in your country."
"I do every night, but yesterday--"
" No explanations,-mademoiselle. You will alter
your position again if you begin to chltter, and I.
have no time to waste. The daylight is going
already. And that you may not be tempted to talk,
I h.cal better not tell you of an adventure that hap-
per :€(1 to me last night in returning from your
neighbourhood."
"Oh, Monsieur Paul, I promise that I will not
say a word."
"No, no. It will not do. You would not speak,
but perhaps my story would make you cry, and I
am just at work at your eyes."
"I hope nothing bad happened to you."
"Oh, no, as you may see, I was never more in
the mood for work. If I kept on like this my picture
would be finished in a fortnight."
"And then—l should come no more ?" asked
Pia impetuously.
" Stop! There is another change of expresslan.
Remember you are sitting to me, Miss. Why, after
this picture I shall do another —in which you
will be standing up—three hours on your legs
—you will be so tired, you will not want to play
the chatterbox."

At this moment the door of the studio suddenly
opened, and Binos Lurst in like a Lomb-shell, crying
out:

"I have seen her, my friend; she is lovely."
"Who P" asked Freneuse.

" Parbleu! the corpse. I come from the Morgue.
She has been there just an hour, and there is such a
crowd "

Binos had sarcely said the words, Cl I come from
the Morgue," than Freneuse began making him
signs easy enough to interpret; but Binos, having
once started, never allowed himself to be stopped,
and went on imperturbably with the thread of his
discourse.

"You were right; she is lovely," he continued.
"As a livinc, model one would have paid her twenty
francs an hour. Pia is a model such as one seldo:u
sees, is she not? Well, she does not nearly come up
to that one. I tried to take a flying sketch while
passing by the glass, but the policeman force I me to
move on; and there was a man there who made a
fool of himself. He called me heartless—the idiot !
I have more heart than he has. What I was doing
was in the interest of my art. Fortunately, tl:ey
are going to photograph her. So, when I saw that
I should be turned out, I said to myself, ' there is
only one thing to do,' and I went straight to ring
at--"

"Will you hold your tongue, wretched babbler !"
cried Freneuse ; "if you say another word I shall
also turn you out."
• " Why, what do you mean ?" aslled the excitable
fellow, looking astonished.
"I mean: first, that you are hindering my work,
and, secondly, that you are terrifying the little one
with your horrid stories."
" What, because I am speaking of the Morgue?
Ah ! she is a saint, that child; but, all the same,
this ought to amuse her. I het she never passes the
door without going in, and as she must pass it about
every day on her way here--"
" Binos, imy boy, for the second time I enjoin
silence, and I warn you if the third time you do not
obey-- You know how under the Empire they
used to disperse crowds."
. -

"how now? Threats? Violence? Which side
of the bed did you get out of this morning? Last
night you did nothing but talk about your adven-
ture. Once more I--"

"All right! All right! I did not know that
Pia was so sensitive; but as mademoiselle has be-
come possessed of nerves, I will be mute as a
mouse until she is gone; aftewards I have a heap
of things to tell you."
Meanwhile, then, let me alone; I have no time to
waste. Take up your position again, my dear Pia,
and if this foolish youth dares to open his mouth,
oblige me by not listening to him."
" The Morgue—is not that the house where they
exhibit dead bodies r asked the child, much
moved_

" Hey ! Do you also want to meddle cried
Freneuse. "It seems you are both of you in lea;ue
to let me do nothing to-day."
"I know where it is," ,continued Pia, "but I
have never dared to go in, and I never shall dare ;
oh no, never—never,"
"On my soul I hope not! If you thought of such
a thing I would not let you come here any more.
But it seems you are not disposed to keep still upon
your stool, so I had better close the sitting. Just
three minutes more and it will be over, my child.
Only one touch to give. I was just beginning to
catch the idea when this Binos came to disturb
us-- Ah ! I have it now—do not move again."
Pia obeyed. he had become dreamy, and her
great black eyes had lost all expression. They were
fixed vaguely on Mirza, who had just woke up, and
was having a stretch.
Binos, to console himself for his enforced silence,
pryed into every:corner of the studio, turned the
pictures that were hung with their faces to the wall,
opened colour-boxes, and fidgeted with easels. lie
ferreted about EO much that Freneuse called out
impatiently:
"Why cannot you keep still? What are you
hunting about for ?"
"Tobacco. I have forgotten to buy any," cried
the marauder, shaking a long pipe, his constant
companion.
"The jar is at the feet of the lay figure under the
window."

" Good ! Then your severity does not go so far as
to forbid my smoking? Thanks for your in-
dulgence, my lord. Ah ! but this is no joke, the
jar is empty ; there] is no more tobacco in it than
there were brains in the' cranium of that: fool at
the Morgue."
"Can you not make yourself a little more trouble-
some ? Look for my pouch in the pocket of the
great coat over there."
r,"I obey, your Highness," gravely answered
Milos' placing his hand against his forehead to
imitate an Eastern salute.

He began Ttc-:f-e-el-il—the coat pockets while Fre-
neuso, who was wiping his brushes, said to Pia:
"That is enough for to-day, little one; I can see
no longer."
"Thy pouch; thy pouch !" grumbled Binos. "I
vainly sound the depths of this luxurious garment,
and I nowhere find it. In fact, I discover nothing
—that is to say, yes—my investigating fingers come
across an object that may serve to clean out my
pipe—when I have smoked it. Let us see what it is.
Oho! a lady's pin !"
Binos, delighted with his find, triumphantly bran-
dished the gilt pin he had just taken from his friend's
great coat.
" Ah, my ',ethnic. :" cried he; "so you stuff your
pockets with instruments in use among the fair sex.!
What Princess has given you this love token r
Freneuse had quite forgotten the pin he had picked
up in the omnibus the evening before. He felt the
witticisms of his comrade out of place, as in all pro-
bability the object that suggested them had belonged
to the dead girl.
"Be good enough to put that Lack where you took
it from," he cried.
"You are afraid I shall profane it by turning it to
vulgar uses," said the incorrigible jester, ironically;
"but rest assured—l will not use it. You can still
wear it against your heart. So you are in
_love.
Since when, pray F"
"Binos, you really provoke me."
Pia had suddenly jumped up, and hastened to look
at the pin more closely.
"What do you say to all this, child of the moun-
tains ?" said the young scamp, addressing her. "You
never wore such things at Subiaco. You have even
taste enough not to wear them here in Paris. The
Young woman who would btick this gew-gc m into
Cr chignon is unworthy to love an artist, and Paul
ought to blush for so carefully preserving such a
contemptible relic—an absurd production oi Parisian
,:werkmanship, bought in a bazaar for sevenpence-
hal ['penny. Help me, little one, to shame our r•ood.
friend out .of his adoration for the owner of 'this
piece of rubb:sh."

"What, tears! Why the devil are you crying?
Not surely because you want it. You cannot have
a mad wish to dishonour your beautiful hair by em-
bellishing it with a skewer of sham gold ?"
"I am not crying," murmured the child, forcing
herself to restrain her tears.

"Binos, you are beyond everything," said Fren-
euse. "I forbid you to teaze the child; you have
quite upset her with your nonsense. Let her go in
peace. Put on thy mantle, Pia, and run away to
the Rue:des Foss6s, Saint Bernard. Night is coming
on, and the streets are unfit for thee after sundown.
Try to be here to-morrow punctually at twelve.
II will bar the door so that none of my tiresome
friends shall come in to disturb us. and we will have
a good long sitting."
Pia was already dressed, and as Nreneuse held
out his hand to her she bent to kiss it in the Italian
fashion; he raised her quickly, and pressed his lips
to her forheod. The child turned pale, but she said
nothing, and went out without looking at Binos.
(To be continued.)