The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1884-05-31 00:00:00

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

L A CRIME IN AN OMNIBUS.

-4 STORY OF PARISIAN LIFE.
• BY FORTUNE DIJ BOISGOBEY
i
21ranslated from the French.

CHAPTER XXII.

'Tim appearance of Father Lorenzo's house in the
Rue des Fosses Saint Bernard would certainly not
recommend it. It was an old and dingy building,
high in proportion to its width, irregularly pierced
with square windows, all differing in size. With its
Weather-beaten facade, stained green by snow and
rain, and crowded between two erections of more
pretentious looks, it somewhat resembled a slice of
mouldy pie-crust.
The entrance to his barracks was by a dark alley
. leading to a damp courtyard, about as cheerful as
the bottom of a well. On the re: de chausset there
-were two rooms—one a beershop, its door opening
directly on the street (for Lorenzo sold drink to the
passers by), the other a kind of refectory for the
knowing old fellow's lodgers.
From early in the morning till late at night a
considerable gathering of Calabrian brigands and
Peasants from the Abruzzi were to be found there—
from the white-headed grandfather to children of
four years, sitting on the knees of robust, broad-
shouldered matrons. Their language was a bar-
barous patois, and the odour of garlic and tobacco
they exhaled might have been scented as far off as
the Jardin des Plantes. All these people 'slept in
rooms arranged as dormitories, and lived on the
Whole pretty peacefully together. Blows were rare,
- notwithstanding that disagreements were not in-
.._ frequent.
Father Lorenzo had his lodgers under due disci-
pline, and inspired them, if not with respect, at least
with a salutary terror. Vigorous in spite of his
- sixty-five years, the old fellow put up with no jests
about his habits or the payment of his rents. He
had followed his present calling for fifteen years,
and had never once found occasion to call in the
police. It was said that he had formerly been chief
of a band of roisters who attacked travellers and
even seized and held to ransom the rich inhabitants
- of the country around Terracine.
But men change with their fortunes. Having
amassed a fair sum at this infamous trade, and a
Price beine offered for his head in the Roman States,
Lorenzo became disgusted one fine day at having to
sleep al fresco and live upon chestnuts; but being
- ambitious, instead of retiring from business, he took
a passage by the steam packet to Marseilles, and
'thence to Paris to increase his wealth.
Providence blessed his efforts. His establishment
prospered , and in time he was able to purchase the
Property with the profits made out of lodging and
feeding his countrymen. He had correspondents in
all the villages of Southern Italy, and went himself
occasionally to look up his connection. Hence his
house was generally full.
- He was not at the bottom a bad sort of fellow.
He gave moderate credit, and even lent small sums
- of money to poor models who were out of employ-
ment and undertook to find work for them, as he
had the entree of all the studios. Sometimes he would
send home unfortunates whom the artists rejected.
Preneuse had arranged with him for Pia's board and
lodging, and as the terms were greatly to Lorenzo's
advantage, the ex-bandit treated the girl with great
care and consideration. He had become attached to
her, and would have been strong in her defence had
anyone endeavoured to molest her. It suited Pia to
remain in this lodging, where, nevertheless, the
poorest Paris woreman would scarcely have cared to
live. She dwelt quite by herself, though not dis-
daining to speak occasionally; to the fellow lodgers
• Whom she passed on the staircase. Her room was a
mere garret under the roof, but out of it she had
made a tasteful little home. The charm certainly
, did not lie in the richness of its furniture, which
eonsisted of an iron bedstoad, a few rush chairs, a
White wooden table, a glass, a chest containing her
clothes, a pitcher and basin, and on the whitewashed
walls two sketches made by Freneuse—nothing
more.
But Pia had made use of the parapet facing her
only window by establishing, against police rules,
Oil aviary and garden. The latter consisted only of
a boxfull of earth, and the aviary contained but a
Single chaffinch but the flowers were fresh, and the
Chaffinch sang from morn to night. The view from
the dormer window was splendid. On the right,
across the street, extended the shops and chequered
paths of the wine depot ; a little farther the old
trees of the Jardin des Plantes were just budding.
On the left, beyond the bridges and above the roofs,
rose the hill of Pere-la-Chaise, crowned with
Cypresses, whose sombre forms stood out clearly
. against the sky.
Quite a corner of Paris, seen from a height, as the
birde in their flight may see it.
On the day following her visit to St. Quen, Pia
having risen before the dawn after a sleepless night,
was leaning on her elbow against the window-bar in
deep
.reverie. The air was balmy, and the sof'
morning mist gradually disappeared as the early
rays of the spring sun gilded the roof-tops. A fine
day was commencing; one of the fete days of nature
Which God gives occasionally to the disinherited of
the :great city, who have no other spectacular en-
ioVments than those which nature opens to them.
The people began to stir; shopkeepers soon
emerged and gossiped together before their door-
steps, and children ran out to play in the street.
- Lorenzo's lodgers were preparing to take flight to
tile studios of the quartier Pigalle and Luxemburg
There was a running to and fro on the staircase,
and such joyous sounds and laughter issued from
the windows, that the attention of the passers by
Was attracted.
rhe old bandit (now a respectable proprietor)
smoked his pipe at the doorway of his drinking
Shop, and smiled with satisfaction as he calculated
his last night's receipts.
It was the season when his lodgers had plenty of
employment, and rents were regularly paid.
Lorenzo was somewhat astonished at not having
tseen Pia, usually one of the first to come down; but
9 never entered her room without being called, and
ia was not thinking of calling him, nor even of
going to purchase her frugal breakfast. Her
thoughts wandered towards the place where Freneuse
Parted from her the previous evening, and made her
promise not to leave without seeing him. She asked
herself his meaning in begging her to sit elsewhere
than in his studio.
To sit for him—to sit alone with him—was the
sole hope remaining to her, but she could never
realise it.
" Ile understands my suffering, and takes pits/ on
me," thought she, sadly. "He is so Sind! Be
Promised to communicate with me soon; he said
that to calm me—to prevent my leaving. He be-
tiered I should reflect —that my courage to go away
would fail me, and that I should return to him. But
he will
not come. Why should he ? I am only a
.poor girl livesg on his bounty. It is my place to go
to him, to ask as a favour that he should receive me
-once more. But I will not go. I shall find that
woman there, and I would rather die thin appear
before her. No, I will not go. I will wait two
.days, and if I do not hear from him, I will write to
bid him adieu. I will pray once more at Bianca's
. grave, and then—"
_ --
Pia had reached this point of her reflections,
When someone knocked softly at her chamber door.
"Oh, if it should be he !" she murmured, over-
' come by emotion and unable to move. There was a
pause, when the knock was repeated, but more
!cry. She wished to answer it, but speech failed
,!.I,e • Then the idea suddenly struck her that
Could not be Freneuse. He was impetuous, and
would have entered, as the key was in the door.
A this moment the key turned, and the door was
°los e opened.
PI had guessed correctly. It was not Freneuse,
but her surprise was none the less vivid when she
68.,v the person who entered.
It was a woman very elegantly dressed in black,
With an attractive air and manner.
§he might have been taken for a charitable lady,
R0.1,11g her rounds among the poor.
ess!;11, unaccustomed to receive such visitors, con -
`l3.utted there was some mistake, and was about to
1:1 !1), when the unknown lady advanced towards
rea4t.ook her two hands, and kissed her on the fore-
Pia .t
unex 61 e taken aback, dared not reject these
„seeeted signs of regard.
_ perceive, my dear child," began the lady, seating
rself on
theUriC or the three rush chairs with which
• . priseroom was " I perceive by. your sur-
,, that o not recognise me; it is not to be
livotr:.(_-1 ,Zi for you hardly saw me."
• hitee,g sue-e Ins, madam, I do not remember ever
" I wasen you," said Pia.
me to rec_3uite close to you yesterday, Pia. It pains
to you 41;12ch unhappy moments; but I was close
Pia, stari7, Y°U prayed for her who is no more:'
At she end looked at the lady attentively.
grave:, e'enistery of St. Ouen—near your sister's
Memory retu
hardly noticed „ to the young girl. She had
i 1
Cto.nlitiinoutteBd theno :olokpeilevi. ouePersson who talked with Sophie
this vis;tor e
evening, but she thought
ent to pra t
likey
haer.our. dear Bianca's grave'
e lad
" Yee Y;
edam said Pia, in amazement.
that -.1,-.40,11 are surprised because
you are not aware
..3-? loved her like my own child."
ou knew her ?" asked the girl.
thave known her for two years. I met her in
with some of my husband's friends whilst
"Ltravelling" in Italy; I became attached to her, and
oy.ed her entire confidence'
is•-,hoer did not mention you to me."
Paris." did she tell you her reason for visiting
"Pardon me, madam, she did tell me."
to,T,,he lad
Y bit her lips, but did not change coma
'You
'was in new, then," resumed she, "that Bianca
search of her father—who was yours
"I knew it."
that "But you were not aware that it was through
1110 she found him
r
ess_ °lir father What I she has seen him and I
es not told of it ? No. no; it is impossible 'l"

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