The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1849-11-22

"llhe d poIteI was taxing down the smut
tiers of the shop, M. Boulard called his
wife and Pauline inlo his little Office
The good mans air was grave and little
annoyed. He had gone out the previous
evening, and returned at late hour
Pauline had long since retired to rest, but
M. Boalard had held long conference
with isi6 wife. The excellent citizen spoke
with animation, and not without a little
anger, but finally cooled down before the
soothing OF his wife.
'Besides,' said he triumphantly, SHE
can never hesitate. Bah! prefer wretch
ed frotteur 10 substantial citiZen-ney-
erl'
'Panline,' began NJ. Boulard in the NOR
ming, Il must speak seriously to you. 1t
seems your marriage must be decided on
at once, since high people have troubled
themselves about it. But that | have spo-
ken myself with the minister of police-I
should think-never mind; am not fool
But of course | should be wrong. Well
Pauline, you must this morning decide
Two lovers are at your feet-Alexis; and,
you will never believe it, Jean Provost, the
frotteur! Isn't it ridiculous!'
Dear father, excuse poor JEAN stam-
mered Pauline.
Il knew you would forgive him, child
But now you must decide freely, of your
own will between them. We have our
wishes; but that is nothing; we leave you
wholly unbiased. Speak out like a good
girl, and speak frankly.
But my dear father, have no wish to
marry
But child, you must. You shall know
the reason another time. SO now, child,
you must speak out. Which is it to be
Alexis or Jean,'
Must I speak now?' said Pauline blush
ing.
Yes, child put in Madame Boulard;
at is absolutely necessary
'Then, dear papa dear mamma, if It's all
the same TO you, like Alexis
Il knew it, cried the delighted Boulard
Very well; but-I-love-Jean And
Pauline buried her pretty, blushing pout-
ting face in her hands.
The perfumer looked at his wife, his
wife looked at him, and both cried Il never
would have thought it,!
But perhaps it's for the best said Mad
anne Boulard resigned1y.
Perhaps replied Boulard with a mel
ancholy shake of his head. 'Oh woman,
woman!'
A knock came to the door, and then
Jean Provost entered, so well dressed, so
proudly happy, so handsome, that all
started.
Il am come to know my fate,' cried
he, but the rogue had heard the last words
of the old compile through the half-opened
door.
She is yours cried M. Boulard with a
sigh, though what poor frotteur can want
with such wife is more than | can ina
gine.'
Il am not a poor frotteur, said Jean, Il
am honorary head gardener of the royal
gardens of Versailles, with hundred louis
Of monthly income, and house large e.
nough to hold US all if you will come and
live with us, and sell your business
That you may understand my sudden rise
L may tell you my new parents-but new
er repeat it-that | have luckily saved the
king from the attempt of an obscure assas-
sin, and that Louis XIV. has shown his
gratitude to the poor trotteur.'
Monsieur Jean-
The young man smiled; he had never
been called Monsieur before.
Monsieur Jean here is my hand. We
accept and are very glad, since Pauline
loves you. 1t was for her sake we hesi-
| tated; There take her, and may you both
be as happy as we have been;' and the old
man looked aflectionately at his wife, and
at the young couple who had scarcely
looked at one another.
They were married and they were hap
py. They went down to Versailles to live
in the house the king gave them, and liv'
ed there long after Louis XVI's death, the
place being kept for them by Louis XVI
Jean became gardener in reality; and fol
the clever years, that the king lived he
never wanted boquet of some kind wher
at his palace of Versailles, and far more
wonderful, he never forgot the action o
| the frotteur, nor ceased to bear ii in CRATE
! full and pleased remembrance. At hi
death there were two who shed genuine
tears, and cast many garland on his toml
and these were Jean Provost and Pau
line his wife.
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