The Morning herald., 1876-06-12
cripple's face as he nut out his hand as if

C11RpAV l0NO 90 AS PuO ouV AAA' A-~-s~ 49, -
to ward off the cruel words.
"Lazy 2" he repeated. "Why. mother,
/ do all the work can"
"Workw exclaimed the old woman, as
she smiled increduously. "Yeu call that
work? Bah Why did Heaven bless you
with such beautiful deformity? Why,
to earn your living by, you puny, limPing
cripple-and you work, when all you need
to do is to sit here, hold out your hand,
and make your fortune"
And as La Frochard finished speaking
she turned away with gesture expressive
of disgust at the honest living her son was
trying to earn. =.
A tear came into Pierre's eye as his
mother finished speaking, and he answer
ed, sadly:
"Mother, cannot beg, it is not posi-
ble."
"Eh? Not possible-why not?' queried
Mother Frochard, in a sharp, rasplng
voice.
"Mother," said Pierre, going toward her
and laying thin, wasted hand upon her
arm, "when | was an infant you carried
me through the streets and taught me to
re eat begging prayers l did not under
stand. They put money into your
pocket, and l knew no shame. But now
it is different. You drove me out, and
bade me come here to beg. When knelt
and held out my hand to ask aims in the
name of the misfortune with which
Heaven has chastened me, shame choked
nv utterance, and / was overcome by
anger at nv own humiliation. A passer
by looked on me with pity and put a
trifling coin in my hand. A great lump
came in nv throat and my eyes filled with
tears. No, mother, cannot beg-l can
not-l cannotw
And as Pierre finished speaking he re-
turned to his machine, and leaning over
it, seemed to pour out his grief to the rude
structure. 80, >,
"Yon undutiful son y exclaimed the old
woman, in burst of anger. You had
rather leave your poor brother and me to
This unkind thrust reused Pierre, and
he answered quickly:
"My brother need not starve. He has
health and strength, and yet you support
him in idleness.
"Whv should my beautiful jacques
work Y' demanded the old woman, with a
look Of disdain at the cripple. my hand
some boy, the very image of his poor, dead
father that those scoundrels OF the law
robbed me of"
ale suffered death for a murder OF
which they found him guilty" tlmldly
Pierre.
"And can look to you to avenge
1im p asked the old woman, in derlslon.
Mono; my handsome Jacques will do
hat one of those days. He's no milk-sop.
Nothing frightens him." -,
"No, not even the sight Of blood"
Pierre, with 4 shudder.
"Shut up! You are good for nothing
,ut to be honcstw screamed Mother
Erochard, in fury. 81 hate honest
people, scum that imposes on the poor
At this moment the old woman's TRADE
vas interrupted by the appearance OF sew
.ral people who were coming toward them,
md changing her voice suddenly from one
ot deepest anger for whining tone habit
nal to professional beggera, she went to-
ward them with outstretched hands, re-
peating the words she had so vainly en-
leavored to force Pierre to repeat.
"Charity, good people. Charity, for the
love Of heaven!'
The poor cripple went back to his ma
chine with despondent air, and poured
out his troubles in an undertone to that
companion.
'Pcrhaps she is right, am good for
nothing except to be honest. Alas |
have never had any one to teach me-"
Pierre's musings were destined to be dis
tlrbed on this evening, for he heard a
loud, rough voice behind him which caus-
ed him to start with fear.
1t was that Of his brother Jacques.
The handsome Jacques, as his mother
had called him, and if good specimen OF
a ruhian may he called handsome, then
Jacques was perfect beauty.
He was tall, strong, well-formed fellow
of some twenty four years, with a betok-
ened brutality in every feature.
He was dressed with view to effect,
wearing the nowered waistcoat so much in
vogue at that period. A red handkerchief
was bound around his head, reaching to
his knees, and in his ears hung large gold
hoops, which were supposed to lend an air
of distinction to the whole costume. In his
mouth was a black clay pipe, and his
whole bearing was that of man who is
well satisfied with himself, and who ex-
pected the rest of the world to admire him.
Halo! Here is the old woman and her
precious abortion of son." was his first
greeting, as he laughed heartily at the
sight Of poor Pierre, bending over his
work. elias Marianne come yet, motherY'
"Not yet, my son" replied the old wo-
man, gazing at him in admiration.
"Never mind, she'll come in time" he
said half to himself and half tO his M her