The Portland daily press., 1876-08-12
The Little TrOubadOur.

We are in northern France, in lovely, ''sea-
coast, nook-full Normandyw The fair deep
orchard land of st. Lo lies still, so still and
picturesque, under the rain of streaming sun
shine! Little children with brown, bare legs
and keen-eyed women in white cotton caps,
are picking up the fraitage of rich apples,
shaken from the branching boughs overhead.
clear like the sunshine, drips, drips, drips |!
The driver of the patient, shaggy horse,
drawing round and round, swears at times
Justify, or drowsily chants the refrain of some
old Norman love ditty. 1t is now with us,
but it seems to be very long ago!
When was long ago, in truth? Here we are
in room with a curtained balcony, over
looking the estates pertaining to an old cha
teau with a Norman tower. Two persons
besides ourselves are lettering here; a lady
aud her attendant cavalier. The lady is
French, but the gentleman is English. They
are playing at the world-old game of Hearts
and they have youth and beauty, and wealth,
together with cay tempers and proud wit, to
back them In the audacity with which they
make their play"
Lieut.. Bertram had, to day, in his visit,
appreaed i'll at ease; this disturbance at length
grew so apparent in his distract manner and
wandering speech, that it drew upon him a
glance of reproof from the sweetest violet
"Pardon my brusquerie," he said: Shut the
truth is, / am unexpectedly hidden to return
to England, tonight. am trying to find
courage to say 'Adieu,' but on my soul it is
hardv'
sWhatw cried Madamoiselle Ninon; "you
are going to England tonight ?" She fel t that
a treacherous quivering of her mouth was be-
trsying her. She caught up cluster of fresh
ly gathered violets and held them to her lips.
@One does not like saying adieu to a friend"
She smiled with her dark purple eyes over
the violets so like them below.
"But this shall not be adieu, Madamoiselle
Ninonp' He caught her hand, flowers and
all and held them in bis. 81 shall return to
Nsrmandy. Whoy, what beautiful ring you
wear mademoisellep' he cried suddenly in a
changed voice. Sand what singular motto !:
Hatred Your ring ought to have history,
Madamoiselle Ninon.'
SIT is an heirloom. and was given me by
my cousin CASTOR, when he went away with
his regiment into Algeria returned madem-
oiseile. sit was worn by the HugenOt
has more than once been drenched in brave
blood" There was a pause; a bell in the
old Norman tower struck the hour in fine,
great, loud metallic strokes. 81 have Often"
pursued the maiden refectively, ''thought,
what If my cousin CASTOR should unexpected
ly come back some day. Then should not
be Mime la Marqaise any more among my
people. You know his body was never
found after that dreadful expedition of Nc
Mahon's into the mountains, and-and if"
With pretty malice she left her sentence
very well that her speculations
regarding her Cousins possible re-
tn were utterly wild. She knew that if
CASTOR d'Etoile's body was never seen by his
comrades who accompanied him on that ter
ribe march into Algeria, it was because the
brave young French soldier had, in the hands
of the Kaybles, under that scorching sky
where his monument was now glittering, suf-
fered fate too terrible to tell, but one writ
ten in many. of the annals of bloody barba-
rian warfare. Mademoisrlle knew all this
very well but Lieut.. Bertram had announced
his intention of speedy return to England
too suddenly not to hurt her vanity. and she
meant to make that evenings journey up-
comfortable for him if she could.
"Ahl if he should RETURN" she sighed"
Then she smiled coquetishly. The young
Englishman dropped her hand. He did not
even ask her for one of the violets. She be-
gan to fasten them in her dress.
'sYour cousin could not be otherwise than
the lieutenant sharply. "He could not
"Do you have violets in England Mon
sieur Henri?" asked the young girl. She
brushed back her brown hair and looked up
at him. She was smiling, and her face was
like one OF the roses in her garden, and softly
flushed and fair. with little tremble through
it; some quick emotion was flashing past with
Its bird-like wings.
Lieut.. Bertram stalked to the window,
looked out, and then returned to her. Spar
a. .nnA L. E>,,A
the steamer leaves the dock at 6 O'Clock, and
find by my watch that have just half an
hour left me. Will you sing me one song be-
fore go?"
'sOi with pleasure, Monsieur Henri. On
~ you must tell nae what it shall be-"
Mademoiselle Ninon took up her guitar
and drew the broad band of scarlet ribbon
about her neck. Henri assisted her, and as
he did so he noticed with his keen, hungry
lover-eyes, what pale pink reflection-iust
the ghost of lovers lovely blush--the crim-
The one deep, dainty dimple there seemed to
fill and overflow with happy color.
'What shall it be?" asked Ninon, bending
her cheek down and drumming the strings
with white fingers. "My last song for you
must be choice one, you know"
But Henri, gazing at the rosy dimple, lost
his head for once.
"Its just the spot where lover would
place kiss" he murmured. "Deep down,
to get the sweetness"
"Monsieurn' exclaimed the girl, aston
ished.
81 beg your PARDON" faltered the young
man, his face all afame with confusion. Il
was thinking of something else."
"Then will put away my music" said
Ninon, with an air of offended dignity. SIT
will simply annoy you, since more important
matter fills your mind"
tsNo, Ninon, surely you will not punish
me thus severely for a moments thoughtless
folly? You may give me the song-one
onlys ! implore you."
He put back the ribbon which she had
thrown off displeased; she did not resist the
touch of his hand; she sang, with downcast
face, simple Provencal air. Then she put
the guitar away. 81 cannot sing, to-day"
she said; 81 am not in the Woodland at
such times music comes hard to me-"
Yet what she did sing was beautiful, both
in words and execution. The young mar
quise possessed wonderfully sweet and SYM
pathetic voice. Henri paid her the stereotyped
compliments of society to beauty; then he
added a word of Lis own in sincere thanks.
"You have the true musicians art of putting
yourself en- rapport with your hearers" he
said. "1f you were obliged, by stress of for
tuAC3 W AAdhC sung yOuI plOlcsSlOI, JOu
would soon win all the laurels fame has
stored up in her treasury for future aspi-
rants"
'tl'll try, some day." cried Ninon, joyous
ly. "Then, Monsieur Henri, be ON your
guard. 1 shall speedily ascertain then how
many of these fine society compliments are
sincere, if the number paid to the marquise
in her salon falls off when wasted on the pro-
fessional singng-girl in the concert-room."
"Will you come to England and test us ?"
retorted the young officer, gravely. He took
up his hat and stepped toward her, as if to
say adieu. She involuntarily made little,
quick, impulsive gesture CT regret.
"Ahl is it timer" she murmured. The
violets in her belt fell to the floor. He gath
cred them carefully up and restored them to
her.
win you give me flower, Ninon9" he
asked softly.
Ninon held a violet out TO him, without
speaking. But her lips quivered, Her fin
gers touched his, and she drew her hand
back burning from the contact.
"You asked me, a little time ago." said the
young man, gravely, as he put the flower
safely away, 'Eif we have Violets in England.
Sometimes we are fortunate enough to be
permitted to transplant them from France,
and then think they strike down deeper
roots, and blossom into richer, loVelier color