Litchfield enquirer., 1876-06-15
. WHOLE NO. 26li..

CT, even the love Of offspring, so that they often leave tbeir nestlings to per1sh from cold and hunger, the same mighty yearn- . ing drew Emile's heart toward Italy. Who, with artistic or poetic feeling, has not experinced this irresistible longing? At this time Emile could have said with Robert Browning: 'sCpan my heart, and you will see Grave1 inside of it-Italy." Emile had no money with which to make the trip, hut he bethOught him of his mother, who, as is quite common among 1 the peasants. though working constantly in the fields, and denying herselfthe com | forts-almost the necessities life, had yet laid aside a sum for her old age. He told her his wish, and promised to return | this sum to her doubled as soon as he should receive his payment for the dinner set from the English lady. Emile Waa. aApa earnest in his enthusiasm. and his mOtheF,. with true maternal pride was only foo I ready to accede to his request: He Waiar | ed only to see Felici6 we'll placed as it- box of colors thrown across his shoulders, and his entire wardrobe in small hand valise, he started for Italy. The greater part of the year he spent in Parma, study | ing the frescoes of Correggio, but his | shorter visits at Rome and Naples were we'll improved. After his return, his work progressed rapidly. In six months his designs were nearly drawn. He worked with redoubled interest now that "he was nearing the goal of his hearts desire"
 He called his work a Service of Love; surely it was such in double sense. Not alone to the future owners of the service did the years move snaillike: two other hearts were waiting for 1873 to bring love's fruition. When Emile returned
 from Italy in the summer of 1870. war had been declared; but he was fortunate, and never drew an unlucky number in the draft. Sophie, whose motto was, Jaime les militaires," had Successively bidden I adieux to three departing Iovers-a cut r0SSier, a soldier of the Line, and ser geant in the National Guard. Regiment after regiment of conscripts and of volun- | teers was organized and marched away to the sound of the bugle or fife; still he worked steadily on in his little studio, but
 with an uneasy conscience, for he was pa triotic. and could not help being touched
 when Felicie sang ''Mourir pour Ia Pa trie," or the "Marseillaise," or, more in- spring still, when her vibrant voice rang out Berancer's t 'a l "QuOt! ces nlO71unIe7,tS chertS, | HiStOire - De nOtre glorie, | .a-.' lI SecrOulerGient en debris? ...-
 Quot! les PruSSienS c Paris!
 l GGi! gGi! serOnt noS T0ngs;
 ESDerGnce --,' 1 De L0 FrGnce!' ..F ry..
 At length he was drafted; and repreacllE l ing himself for his selfshness in not re- signing all earlier, and saying,if Art could | lend Henri Regnault to France, she would
 not miss his poor labor, he locked his precious portfolios in one of the closets in the wall, so common in French houses,s and giving the key to Felicie, he carefully, papered over the door and placed his buff r fet of curiosities in front of it. ThenGh marched away, Felicie laughinglyl sayiug O. she would stay and keep guard over his n drawings at whatever price, even if the
 P PrSSsians FSsR did G9% dstls thought she
 bility. Scarcely had he left before on all sides they closed around the doomed city. Sevres had felt secure under the protect ing wing of Versailles, but a sortie was planned from Paris to this point, and Emile, who was one of the party, saw the
 woods of Meudon bristling with the lan-
 ces of the Uhlans, and all the roads and fields swarming with the enemy hGstening toward Versailles. In sight of his studio window, the baliled party returned to
 Paris. This was the 18th of September,
 and on the next day began the siege
 How anxiously Emile scanned the refu- gees from the environs as they threaded
 the streets in their carts, drawn some-
 times by oxen, and containing all they
 could bring of their worldly possessions.
 It was a long time before the white cap
 of bOnne would not give him heart-
 throb, causing his head to turn and his
 steps to daily until he had seen her face. Still he felt Felicie must be safe some
 where, and his anxious thoughts were
 more for his drawings than for her. True,
 when off duty he was frequently found in
 Pare MoncrGur, that head quarters of
 bOfanes and babies; if he loitered near one
 of the nurses, it was with sketch-boOk in
 hand, and gaze fiveted not upon her face,
 but that of her charge-he had found
 another baby face for one of his seven
 hundred Loves. .-
 By the time that Emile had filled two sketch-books the siege was raised. aud he was free to revisit his beautiful palace of l St! Cloud, in ruins: whole streets cOnver- ted into long lines of dc brts, ghastly walls standing here and there fiddled with shots. l The manufactory of Sevres had suffered with the rest; its director, the father of
 Henri Regnault, came back to find his studio destroyed; and this disaster, added to- the death of -hls talented son Ca loss which the whole artistic world shares as welD, formed weight of misfortune too great for him to bear, ana his reason was lost beneath it. Other men of genius had suffered too. 1-Alexandre Elan, the author of the joyous vaudevilles which the Par isians love so dearly, on learning the loss of his library of theatrical works, which | he had spent his life in collecting, said nothing, but, leaving the premises, took room at an inn near by. When, the next morning, they went to call him, he was found dead in his bed. He had not committed snicide4si Death came natural ly. for his laughter loving heart was bEo- l ken. rg, 1 Emile hurried to his street. It could d I hardly be called so now, for only narrow fobtpath ran among and over heapss of ashes and ruins. A solitary house stood where the long row had been: it was the house in which was his studio. Without stopping to inquire why it alone had beens spared, he sprang up the staircase and dashed into the room. The buffet stood | in it's place. but every atom of china was gone. He pulled it aside. The closet in which he had left his designs was broken open and empty. It was to late to do the work over again, and he had squandered toI no purpose the money to which his mPLn0r AOOk0u lOr SuppOrt III HUT OAu age He did not kill himself upon the spot, or go insane; at least, if insanity it was that seized him when he dashed his newly fill. ed pocket sketch-book into the rifed Clos- | etI and went back to Paris to identify | himself with the Communists. it was EOt | pdrmanent insanity, for on becoming bet- | ter informed in regard to their perilous | aims and enterprise, he left the insurgents, only to be taken prisoner by the govern | ment. .a.4EE4 rlastafa.3S iafuR
 During his confinement he had ample time for reflection on the madness of his I conduct. Fellcie's innocent waiting face came mp before him, and he vowed. If his l l.Ao Iic. hcnrn.a