Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1875-07-01

1OuI IdtAVl i SltulAlCICO, WHY ,
that is differentn'
"What is different 2" she repeated, with
slight stamp of her foot upon the floor
eve have made the room so pretty with
new paper, and the red curtains make a
pleasant glow. The windows are so
secured that the sun comes bravely in upon
my box of mignonette; it is a marvel to
see Alas sir, | am at my wits end. Why
is it that people cannot enjoy so sweet a
thing as music? Wehave been driven from
one place to another because of our dear
trombone
Trombone! l repeated "Ah, that is
different
Different" she echoed "and always
different! What is it that you mean? My
father must practice, or he will not keep
up to the leaders, eXactions. l thought,
indeed, that this back chamber, SO high
and so aloof from the rest of the world, we
might call our own. How is it, sir, that
you are so cruel because of the divine
language of our dear tromboneg"
You see it is different" l began.
heat gradually gathered under my
shaggy whiskers and mounted to my fore
head My eyes fell before the full, frank
gaze of this young woman. Her simple
plant touched my heart.
Sir" she said, three times you have
said different, and only different In the
name of heaven what does that one word
mean?"
" 1t MEANS" I said, gaining courage to
enjoy her presence, :" that when l COM
planned of your-your fathers instrument,
thought it was French horn; now l de-
test French horn"
"That is wrong, sir.'
Yes, perhaps so; but, you know, some
people have strange idiosyncrasies, and
mine is a hatred of the French horn. All
other music | adore; and as for the from
bone, there is nothing in the world SO de-
licious to me. The other night, and all
the days that your good father was kind
enough to play, / have listened with my
soul in my ears; and that sweet refrain of
yours of Jamais,' it brings the tears to
"Then we need not go?" she said.
No, no." | said, shuddering at the
thought of such a thing. Il will see to it
at once, Miss-Miss-"
"Therese; my name is Therese, and my
fathers name is Rigaud."
Her foot was already upon the thresh-
old.
Perhaps" said, with sort of des-
peration, "your father would allow me to
come to you sometimes and listen to the
trombOne?"
"Some people like it so much better at
distance she replied. :" l myself think
the room is too SMALL
"1'hat is perhaps because, Miss The
reese, you do not love the trombone as |
dol"
"No doubt" she said; a little half
smile dawned upon her lips and she fled
away through the corridor.
The room suddenly grew cold and chill
She had taken all the warmth and sun
shine away with her.
went Immediately down to the pro-
prietor and withdrew my complaint.
You see" | said, Il thought it was Il
French horn, and my hatred for that in
strument is Of so intense a character that
cannet live under the same roof with it.
Now trombone is another thing"
as it?' said the proprietor, with his
finger upon the page of his account-book
and his pen dripping with ink. can't
tell 'en apart; but there's one thing
know when see it and that's a handsome
face. That wheezy old Frenchman owns
blamed good-looking daughter; she's as
proud and touchy as Luciter, but that
don't hurt her any. | like to see a wom-
ans chin well up. Old Parleyvou is fat
as porpoise, but he's game as Spanish
fighting cock. | like it; it suits my
style And he plunged his knucklcs
into the ink again.
When | went back tony room it seemed
haunted with the ghost of a vanished hap
piness. | could not write because of the
face of Therese upon the paper before me.
Her serious but fine features had caught
the imprint Of sad, sequestered life. The
marble whiteness of her skin, her long
eyelashes backer than her halr, the curves
upon her well-cut lips, made her express
sion one between tenderness and severity.
Fancy me, if you can, in pea jacket
patched upon the right arm by my own
fingers, pair of high boots capable Of
carrying me through the mire and ice of
the streets, my rough and shaggy beard
and long yellow hair like the name of a
sick lion, my sour and cynical face, my
thirty-three wasted years-tancy me thus
lavish with time and money, for these are
synonymous with copying clerk in strug-
Cling to divine how the hours are spent
by young woman in the room above me.
At length l gained entrance there, and
partook of the hospitality offered me by
the father of Therese.
No matter how or where ii began. felt
! as one in dream the subtle power of a
| fragrance exhaled from a flower. box in
| the window ! saw in bewilderment the
battered walls covered with gay paper
| the spiders festoons ruthlessly swept
away a clear, bright sunlight, streaming
through windows polished like gems, fall
ing upon the hair of Therese, making the
ends of her long black braids take tawny
hue like mine, lighting up the peacocks'
| tails in the chintz covered furniture, and
mingling itself with the red blaze of the