The Tiffin weekly tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1859-1868, 1865-09-14

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hesitated, and then said in u low
voice, inthc english language: al
do not understand you. am an
American. "
Paul collected his thoughts, he
had u smattcring of english, AMI he
said, IL shall speak to you in
rAnglaisc. You comprehend I"
+" Yes, said the girl simply, and
she listened rs he spoke, aud cx.
planned it in broken English, mus.
ical and pretty enough, what he
meant and wanted.
She understood, and she unused
II moment. when she looked up in
to his eyes, and the glance said,
Can trust YOU!
lie answered the look, for there
were no words, 81 shall he good
to you. There is no need to fear"
And his kind young eyes looked
frankly into hers, and she arose
and followed him, with her violcts
on her arm, up those long and din
gy stairs to the atclicr. with its
north light and its heterogeneous
belongings, where, throncd on the
dais, she looked lovlicr than ever,
as he taught her how to turn her
head and place herself, and paint
cd her into the shadowy outline on
the canvass. Tho first sitting was
not the last. She camj again and
again. At length Mons cur Paul
discovered why she was glad to
earn the coin he gave her. Her
mother was dying slowly of con-
sumption. She was an American
A year before she had come to Pa.
ris, led by the hopes of recovering
some property which had belonged
to her dead father, who was u ma.
tive of France. That hope was iu-
tile; and by the time they knew it
to be so, the mother had fallen i'll,
and now their money was oil gone,
and they could not return to their
native land. as she was dying. $50
what could | do!" said the girl: |
could not see her starve. Though
my father was Frenchman, ! do
mot understand the language. |
need do nothing but offer these
flowers, and | have earned bread
and u little wine and soup for my
mother. When she is gonel shall
care no longer, but just lie down
and die"
sit is sad for you, p" said the
young Frcncllman, 'but the young
and beautiful should live, not die.
Should live and love! he thought
although he did not say SO. Mon
sicur Paul Dupont was poor him.
self, but after This, many dainty
and many a bottle Of vino found
its way to the unknown woman dy-
ling in foreign land. From that
day she did not suffer from want.
And that picture was long paint.
ling. 1t seemed rs though the gol.
den hair and blue eyes would never
be done. Paul Dupont was in nc
haste whatever; for, let the secret
creep out, this iriendless American
girl, selling her flowers in the
streets of Paris, happy TO earn the
francs he gave her Tor the copying
Of that sweet face, had won the
young artists heart. lie hardly
knew it himself, until one day
she entered his room trembling and
weeping, and sobbcd forth, my
mother is dead" Then the trutl
flashed upon him, and he bent Owe
J ner and took her hand, and said il
French. But thou hast n irient
yet left. beloved"
That day he looked upon th,
dead face of the flower girls dead
mother, and did what son might
have done. The foreign lady lies
in quiet grave, with u little cross
above her head, and there were two
mourners, her daughter and Paul
Dupont. 1t was beside that grave
he said to her tender words of com,
iort-there, also, he whispered
"Thou cans't sell flowers no lon.
ger. Thou dost not hate me. Let
my heart shelter thcc-be my
wife"
And in this brief time she had
learned TO understand his native
tongue. Lonely, and loving him
rs nc did her, there was but one
answer to be given. That nigh,
an old Priest married them, and
Paul took his wife home to his ate.
lier. A sweet, sweet task it seem
cd to dry her tears, to comfort her
very sweet to teach her his native
tongue. His English and her
French were on par; but lovers
can understand each other without
language of any kind. The pretti-
est pair | ever saw were deaf and
dumb, and held converse with their
eyes. For a few days that atclier
was a Paradise, and then.
1t was in the dead hour of the
night. They started wide awake
together, with noise and glare
about them. The building was on
fire. People were screaming, wood
cracking, flames licking up door
posts and window-irames with its
red tongues. Fifteen minutes more
would have been the end of them.
AS it was. Paul had hardly time to
wrap his darling in coverlid and
fly down the blazing stairs with
her for life. She was not hurt, but
he was singed about the face and