The Tiffin weekly tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1859-1868, 1865-09-14
= Short Storp.
UNDER THE CHARCOAL.
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.

to another for five aud twenty years
and never know his name. In Pa
ris your own brother might occupy
rooms under the same roof and YOU
may never meet each other. might
live anl marry and die there and
never guess the neighborhood of n
kinsman. For those who desire
it, it is the lonclicst place in the
world.
No one, unless it was tho porter
Of the many-storied house in the
Rue De-, knew that Monsieur
Paul Dupont occupied az trojScme
OF that dwelling or that he was an
artist. 1t was II matter of perfect
indifference to all but his few ar
tist friends. For tho matter of
that, poor folks are of very little
consequence anywhere, whether
they paint, or sing or act, or scrib.
bic. When they become rich,it is
another thing, and folks take no
tice of them, and they should put
their names in the directory and
let the world know when they are
at homo. But u poor man or wo.
man-bah ! Paris, rs n general
thing, let Monsieur Dupont paint
alone, and the Emperor had never
visited his studio yet. 1t was an
odd place that studio ou rojseme.
A litter of portfolios and canvasses
and casts and tasscls and pictures,
in frames and out of them; where
cigars and mccrshaums lay about
and empty wine bottles, which had
contained very innocent and soui
French wines, graced the corners
where there was II north light and
canvass in the lower part of the
window, and n pot for the making
of chocolate, and any number OF
the oldest old French books, and
some modern ones by Sue and Geo.
Sand and Dumas where there
were also a violin, u flute and Il
guitar, n sword and couple pis'
tolls, sometimes hanging up, some
times falling down and sometime,
in use, even the pistols, for there
was n painted circle with a spot in
the centre over the mantle at which
Monsieur Paul often took aim ioi
practice, without bringing in q
neighber or discomposing the mjnt
OF the landlord. There arc so ma
ny suicides IL Paris that when ;
man hears the report of u pistol h,
only thinks, sit is my ncighbol
blowing his brains out, " and does
not interfere with what docs no,
concern him.
Unrooiing this, a la Asmodcus,
to take II peep, you might have seer
one bright may morning Monsieur
Paul Dupont standing dispairing
ly before II picture-thc sort Of pic
ture one might have expected of q
Frcnchman OF three and twenty
a,ry, graceful and romantic. A
lover at the feet of his beloved, in
a picturesque nook, beside ioun'
tam; q castle in the distance q
ducnna asleep under the trees on Il
garden bench. A picture destined
to be called "La Declaration. y
The youth was handsome, the du
emma brown and corpulent, tn,
maiden, rs yet, but u ghos,likt
sketch. There was the difficulty
Paul could find no model for hi
beauty.
True there were plenty TO be hir
ed for SO many sous an hour, but
he wanted an innocent face, and
much staring at in artists studios
had banished the bushes from most
faces young and pretty enough
for his purpose. Monsieur Pau
had always found it impossible moi
to initiate the expression ofhis mod
els, and it would not do for tho
heroine of "La Declaration" tC
look brazcn. At last he flung down
his brushes, kicked over a stool,
put Oh his hat, with its pendant tas.
sells, and his velvet paletot, and
went down stairs and out iuto the
Rue de Capuchan. 1t was a quiet
street enough. The houses looked
half asleep. The only sound was
the distant rumbling Of vehicles in
some wide thoroughiare ard the
hidcous yell fish woman, with a
basket on her head, crying her
stock for sale. Monsieur Paul
sauntered on, with his hands down
in the pockets of his paletot. and,
looking in the air, forgot, TO watch
his feet. They struck suddenly
against something, somebody ut.
tered shrek and cried: "Ah!
he has destroyed them. 4"
Looking down, Monsieur Paul
saw n girl and an overturned bas-
ket of violets. lie had run against
flower girl and thrown over her
merchandise unaware.
An Englishman would have ut.
tered naughty words and asked her
why she couldn't keep out of the
wav. You who read this can tell
me best what an American would
have done. The Frenchman stoop-
ed down and began to pick up the
blossoms with a little pardon. "
At that the head was lifted, and
under a golden fleece of hair, Paul
Dupont saw the face he wanted.-
An innocent face-a beautiful face
the face Of a perfect blonde. Per.
haps she was seventeen, but Ger.
tainly not older. Earliest girlhood
yef in har hlue ewes