The Portland daily press., 1876-08-12

went to her library, and selecting certain
big book, opened it at a certain page. 1t
held map of England, infinitesimal, but
complete. Ninon, with her finger, traced
a route from the coast inland to certain
shire.
SIT is not very far from the coast" she
murmured. She pushed away the book, and
sat lost in thought again.
How different are the skies of France and
England; they seem to be separate patches,
curtaining separate counties. On certain
day, for instance Tin our voyage) when a
crowded excursion steamer left the French
harbor, it left blue skies, soft summer airs
and mellow warmth behind it. When it,
across the channel. slid slowly up alongside
the English pier, dark, lowering clouds We're
discharging a mist so chill that everybody
shivered and turned blue.
Among the crowd of cheap, British tour
lists who landed was young French girl,
who seemed to be all alone, and who glanced
with timid, shrinking looks about her. She
had pretty, dark, Norman features, and dark,
pquant eyes, fringed with curled lashes that
rose and fell as she shot those frightened,
quick glauces about.
She tripped up the landing, her little high
heeled boots clicking unsteady as they flashed
from beneath her slashed black and crimson
skirt. Her ravishing little vandyke bodice
was bordered with a heavy gold fringe that
clashed merrily when she moved, and the
broad ribbon Of guitar was passed over her
neck. She looked to be music personifed,
gliding with little, light feet up that noisy,
dingy, rainy pier.
When she had separated herself little
from the thickest of the crowd, she paused.
She looked around upon her late companions,
then with demure smile on her pretty lips
she raised her guitar, touched the strings,
and began to sing tender, pathetic, old
Norman love-song, in fresh, sweet, girlish
voice.
1t was a sight sufficient to draw crowd
in any thoroughfare, this slim figure of a girl
halftimid, half-fearles, pretty, pathetic with
her youth and helplessness, singing quaint
old love song in voice fresh and clear as the
dew and buttercups of May. The crowd
looked and grew denser.
The music trickled on, limpid, sparkling
brook-lke. The little white hands flashed
over the strings; the gold fringe of her bod
ice sparkled; her short, crimson skirts fut-
| tered on the air, together with the long wavy
tresses of yellow hair that fell tbickly from
| underneath her coquettish cap.
There was nothing but the sweetness and
| freshness of her guileless, unfearing youth
| about her; innocence smiled on her lips and
sparkled in her eyes, but could not protect
| her from the insolence of a rough, loud,
| jeering crowd. Silent, at first, through sheer
amazement, the loungers about her grew, by
and by, less respectful. One or two coarse
jokes were ventured, which, being in Eng
fish, fortunately conveyed no meaning to her
pure ears. She had finished her song, and
was touching the guitar strings to plain tive
closing strain, when, of sudden, the trou-
badour felt coarse hand crawling arc und
her waist; rough, bearded face was close TO
| hers, the odors of stale beer and tobacco
| sickened and overcame her, and in moment
| more, urged on by his companions, the ruff
| fan was begging for kiss.
With shudder she tried to spring away
| from the coarse grasp that held her. Whit 9
and terrified, feeling herself lost, she held up
| her hands to shield her face, and cried out
| one or two gasping sentences in French. The
crowd hearing the foreign language, only
jeered the more. ''Don't understand any of
that outlandish gibberish,'' persisted her
chief tormentor-a big red-headed cockney.
You must speak plain Engligh, my darling,
| if you want me to listen. Come, now"
And then, before he could finish his SEN
tepce, the wretch was caught by strong
hand and flung backward, while the little
minne-singer, sustained and upheld by this
same protecting arm which had so magically
come to her assistance, was borne off rapidly
up the landing, out of sight and hearing of
her assailants.
'sThe brutes! What a pity that one can't
punish them corporeally- treat them to a
rough fogging, like unruly boys at school.
| There, you are quite safe now, mademoiselle.
hope you have sustained no serious iDju-
| ries."
This brave champion, who had arrived so
OPPORTUNITY on the scene, spoke in French,
which he instinctively felt was the girls ma
| tive language. He took off his cap and looked
IAN expression OF puzzled, baffied wonder
| dawning meanwhile in his handsome blue
eyes-into her face. The pretty troubador,
so quickly it all had happened, hardly real
| lied that she was saved. She stood, pale and
| gasping, trembling from head to foot. But
| this new voice, the words spoken in Fren Oh
| the respectful and solicitous accent, acted
| like charm on her quivering nerves.
co." she gasped, show much thank you
for coming! felt myself lost, sinking down,
| down, in darkness. All"
Suddenly, as she was speaking, she looked
into her deliverer's face. She started away
| from him, cried out in quick exclamation
| frightened, wondering, amused. all togeth
| err and, covering back, held up her hands
as if she would shield her own features from
the young mans sight.
| "You are faint. Shall get you some wa
| ter?" he asked, mistaking her gestures, and
| thinking she had not fully recovered FROM the
| shock of her late peril.
MOO no! l am better. / shall be bet
ter, soon. o! how can thank you enough
| for what you have done? You are very
brave and kind, Monsieur, and the poor
singing-girl thanks you"
The little troubadour's head dropped as she
| said this; but with her soft, tear.wet eyes,
| she TREMENDOUSLY surveyed her companions
| large and strong figure. That figure looked
| very brave and handsome, in its dress of an
| officer of the guards, but her eyes never once
were lifted above the gray scarlet coat-never
| once! They seemed to shrink from resting
on his face perhaps from maiden modesty.
Her guitar, meanwhile, forgotten in her
fright, hung suspended by its broad crims
| ribbon from her neck. She had not noticed
that two of its strings were snapped.
''There will, literally, be broken chord in
your music now," said the young officer,
smiling. He pointed to the broken strings.
"Ahv' cried the little troubadour, plying.
ly. She caught up her precious guitar, look
ing ready to cry again, and calculating fon-
died it with caressing touches of her slender
| hands. "Ah! monsieur, was it not wicked
Of them to do this? My poor little guitarw
She pulled at the strings. go! but it was
| wicked. '-and she all but stamped her foot,
A1OW Cdh L LadhO tACh WuOiC IL IS
| such bad omen, toov'
ga bad omen of what?" The young man
smiled at her quaint way of saying "A bad
| omen," and the next moment, he was
touched by the merry little troubadour's
grief. He looked on compassionately, as
with flushed cheeks andlittle, trembling, flut-
tering touches of her hands she caressed the
injured guitar and sought to make whole the
broken strings.
"What shall do?" At the tender plant
OF those grieved lips, the young fellow WON
dered that the severed, obstinate fragments
did not Immediately unite themselves togeth-
er. "Ah! monsieur, is it not too bad? Now
cannot sing any more"
"If you will come with me, mademoiselle,
know an old musician in the villiage-it is
but few steps up this street-who will set
the broken chords all right in half an hour"
She turned about, at once, to 60 with him.
"Ah! you make me SO happy with your kind
ness. Merci, bien merci, Monsieur L'offi-
ceur," she continued, with such an indie
scribably gracious, soft, society accent that
he turned and looked at her, more puzzled
than ever, An hour later, with her precious
guitar-its broken chords by the healing fin
gers of the old musician made whole again
in her arms, the pretty tloubador stood ready