The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1875-09-16

what matter is thy correspondence. y
The soriyano knows it well enough, but
he must have his joke.
Teresina laughs little, consciously,
and makes as though she would turn her
head, but she speaks up bravely, for the
time Is short.
''And it is letter to a gallant, Sig
nor Cappellano, - says she. .ssWhat else
should it be, when pretty girl like me
comes to you at this hour of night?
And would that you would hasten, for
| must be home again, and that quick
y.'
Teresina has blooming, winsome
face, and gray eyes that are soft and
shady, and orispy-waving hair; she has
full Fps, too, and lovely rows of white,
cleaning teeth, and she laughs as she
says this, and pulls letter from her
pocket.
''This is the one which he wrote to
me,n she continues. ''Perhaps you
may like to see it, that you may know
the style that will fit him best -
ssNo, no, my daughter; have writ
ten many a love-letter, and can trust to
my own sense," grumbles the scrivano,
as ne gets out the pens and paper, for
he has his own well-worn phrases ready
flowing to hand and would be greatly
discounted at having to invent any
new ones. He seats himself at the
table, puts on his spectacles, smooths
the sheet of paper, and, dipping his
pen in the ink, glances up at the fair
girl for her instructions. She, mean
while, stands awkwardly before him,
smiling to herself, and calculating be-
meath her breath, as she twirls her
apron mechanically round her finger and
thumb.
s'But I never said it was love-let-
ter, she says at last, laughing again.
s'Eh, well, well, my daughter. A
letter to gallant, then? What mat
ter; it's all the same thing. Tell me
his name and whether you mean to have
him or no, and then leave the rest to
me.n
ssBut no, Signor Cappellano, re-
monstrates the damsel eagerly; s'it is
not Just SO. You must understand the
affair. = And she comes closer to the
table, for Teresina wants to. have fin
ger in the matter herself.
ssYou see )" she goes on, ssthe young
man is rich and fine, they tell me, and
a good match for me, a poor contaaina,
and don't want to send him quite
away. But, then, / have never seen
him, and how can tell if he will please
me or no? Now, you, who know the
Latin, and are fine and wise, you can
put it grandly what ! mean
.'Yes, yes, my daughter, surely; so
tell me what to write first. -
ssWell, first you shall put" and
Teresina fiddles again with her apron,
ssyou shall put---that I have received
his letter." she blurts forth, as though
struck with a good and sudden thought
The fine steel pen proceeds to work,
and makes few fine dourishes on the
pink paper, while the girl looks ON ca
ger and intent.
ssThat have I written,'' says the
scrivano at last. "What next?''
.And next, next! You shall put
that he does too much honor to poor
peasant girl such as I.'' Again the
pen moved warily over the paper, and
this sentence takes long to indite, for it
can be inflated with many a fine word
and sentiment; but in time the scri-
vano looks up for fresh matter. Poor
Teresina! She is sorely perplexed, in
deed.
s'But, vossignofia, who knows Lat
in, says she again, sscan you not put
together fine letter?''
s'That / can do, my daughter; but
do you wish me to say say he shall come
and see you or not?''
ssTell him that there is a fair at San
Stefano, and that he might come to
see; but say know not if I shall be
there-you underestimate
The scrivano huns and haws. This
letter is fairly hard one to write. It
is easy enough when he has but to
write love-letter. The boys or girls
falter out coyly their little tender senti-
ments, and down they 60 on the paper,
mashed into a smooth jelly, and about
as unlike as possible to the simple and
hearty phrases which have been die
tated. What matterp They cannot
read, and there are plenty of flourishes.
Who could say they are not love-letters!
But what scrivano was ever taxed with
SO tangible and yet SO intangible task
as this?
ssIt's not the fairest truth, that, eh,
my grip he demonstrates feebly in an
swer to her last request. Nevertheless,
something he writes on the paper.
Poor, credulous Teresina.
II don't want much more written, y
says she now, thinking Of her quatrini.
But the priest means to earn some
thing more yet out of this weary letter.
lyon have said nothing hitherto, I"
he complains. '.Poor young man! He
won't know If YOU intend to have him