Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1866-01-10

AS you s. - ,aouolphe;
only said (ss fpu getting
into tro}aa1 & ~, and 1
thank you iia ~ - ~ az ffsphix;
is it equally agree&El1 6 b41 art of
the country we go -? IS IS III
the SAME to me, Mr.. r. ho 6s
long as it is the country@i s %
pleasant-the pure air is so good 70
breathel Do you know that for five
months [ have been no farther than
the fower-market and if the Ogresse
allowed me to go out of the city, it
was because she had confidence in me-
and when you came to this mar
ket, was it to buy flowers? p 'Oh no,
| had no money; | only came to see
them, to inhale their rich perfume for
the half hour that the Ogresse allowed
me to pass on the Quay during mar
ket-days, | was so happy that forgot
all. And when you returned to the
Ogresse, to those horrid streets p 4
came back more sorrowful than when
| set out. [ choked down my tears
to prevent beating. I'll tell you
what it was at the market that made
me very envious, OH very envious.
1t was to see the little artifcers. so
neatly clad, going off so gayly with a
fine pot of flowers in their arms Il
am sure, if you had only had some
flowers in your window, they would
have been companions for you 1T is
very true, what you say, Mr.. Rodolphe,
| imagine one day, the Ogresse, at her
festival, knowing my taste, gave me a
little rosebush; if you could only have
known how very happy | was; l was
no longer lonesome | conld not keep
from looking at my rosebush. 1 a
mused myself in counting its leaves,
its flowers. But the air is so bad in
the city, that at the end of two days it
began to fade; but you'll laugh at me,
Mr.. Rodolphe.' No, no; go on
We'll, then, | asked permission from
the Ogresse to take my bush out for an
airing; yes, as l would have taken out
child. | brought it to the quay; |
thought to myself, that being in COM
pany with other flowers, In this fine
and balmy air, would do it good; |
moistened its poor withered leaves
with the pure water of the fountain,
and then | warmed it awhile in the sun;
dear little rOse-tree, t never saw the
sun in la cite, for i'll our street it
comes no lower than the roof. At
length [ returned; and assure YOU,
Monsieur Rodolphe, that my rosebush
lived, perhaps, ten days longer than it
would have done without the airings.'
L believe it; but when it died, that
must have been great loss for you?'
4 wept for it was very sorry.
Besides, Monsieur Rodolphe, since you
understand how one can love flowers,
| can tell it to you; well [ felt CRATE
lul to it -ah now, this time you are
laughing at me- No, no, Il love,
adore flowers; thus can comprehend
all the foIlieS they cause one to do, OF
that they inspire
Well, then, felt grateful to this
poor rosebush for having howered so
prettily for me-such a one as me-
The GOualeuse held down her head,
and became purple with shame. Poor
child with this consciousness of your
horrible position, you must have often
- Had a wish to put an end to it;
is it not, Monsieur Rodolphe ? said La
Goualeuse, interrupting her companion.
oh yes, more than once have looked
at the Seine from the parapet; but
then [ turned to the flowers, and the
sun; and | said to myself the river
will always be there-I am only six
teen-who knowsY When you said,
who knows ! you had a hope?' Yes
And what did you hope for?' Il do
aot know hoped-yes, | hoped in
spite Of me. At those moments it
seemed to me that my fate was not
merited; that there was some good
left in me. | said to myself, | have
been very much troubled, but at least
| have never harmed ANY one. Ii |
had only had some one to counsel me,
| should not be where | am. That
disSi pated my sorrow a little. After
all, must confess that these thoughts
occurred oftener after the loss OF my
rOSebuSh,' added La GOualeuse in d
solemn manner, which made Rodoiphe
smile This great grit1' alwayS-yes,
.ook here; : and the GOua euSe. drew
from her pocket a iitt q wooden packet,
carefully made, and tied wi,n a pin,,
favor You nave preserved it.? Z
think 50; it is al that I possess iia
world How .? have YOU ,tili G you
can call your ownY Nothing 'Dut
this coral necklace 2 lit belongs to
the Ogresse.' How a? do you lot own
rae, a hat, a handkerchief? No,
nothing, nothing bat the dr. leaves o.
my rOsehu5h. 1t Is on this acc1lnt L
prize it so much.
At each word the ast)ni>hmoat o.
Rod0iphc was redouD,ed; aad ho c5u i
not comprehend this frightful saver,
this horrible sale OF soul aud 30 iy for
wretched shelter, some tatterod
clothes, and nourishment impure.
They arrived at the Quay Of Flow
ers; a carriage was waiting; Rodolphe
assisted his companion to get in, and,
after placing himself by her side, said
to the coachman, 'To St. Denis; | will
tell you directly which road to take
The horses started; the sun was
radiant, the sky without cloud, but
the cold was a little sharp, and the
air circulated briskly through the open
windows of the carriage. Hold, a
4 woman's CLOAK said La GoualeuSe,
remarking that she was seated on such
a garment, which she had not before
4 perceived. Yes, it is for you my
child; | brought it along, fearing you