The Beaufort tribune and Port Royal commercial. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1877-1879, 1877-09-13
APPLES.

44A - NASs
Madame sat il the sunny window sew
ing. The needle twinkled in her rapid
fingers, end the scarlet stuff she stitched,
glittering in the sunlight, shed a re-
Elected luster on her black hair, her
tintless face, the bits of coral in her
well-set cars.
Madame prefers to be on the top story,
she says. One is there away from the
dust and noise of the street. Also, it
costs less. Also, she will tell you gaily,
she can see the tops of the sails, and the
sun-lit masts of the ships that come and
60 at the wharves. toward which this
dingy street looks down. The ships
bring wealth and plenty to somebody.
Some of them come from France. Ah,
beautiful France 1t is like being o
poet, or having o fine imagination, to
own window one can see the world
out of.
Should any one pity madame or
officiously offer her sympathy, she will
shrug her shoulders magnifcently,
spread ont her hands, and say "What
Will you?" glancing toward her window
as though the world were at her feet.
Has she not her sunshine, her sewing,
and her little Fifine, who fits up and
down the ladder like stSirs like butter
fly? Fifne has black eyes and dane
ing smile. Fifne is madame's poem,
her princess; she does not know poverty.
They had been poor in Paris, but Fiine
had never gone hungry; they had wanted
many things in Paris, but Fifine had al
ways her gay frilles dresses and her tiny
polished slippers. Was not her father
a professor was not her mother lady :?
Should they, then, associate on equal
terms with that degraded and degrading
thing called poverty? Nay, indeed it
might own the house, but it should not
sit at the board.
1t was poverty that had driven this
family, thoughtlessly thoughtful, to
America. Professor Pierre would come
here and teach the people French. 1t
was wide country, roomy country,
and the people needed education. Pro
fessor Pierre set sail, and died on the
passage.
"Ah, but he was a scholarr' says
Madame, sighing. eff he have live ="
(madame's English is not quite so per-
feet as her French) "we shall by this
time have the little maison chanapetre,
the pretty place in the country, and the
little school, and the garden which we
have talk and dream of SO much in Paris.
For there is room in America-ah, SO
much of room p
She looks up, smiling, from her work,
as light footstep comes flying along the
ladder-like stair.
$50 come the angles !" says madame.
deyoutly, as Fifne dances in. She has
her tiny apron full of red apples, which
tumble out and roll upon the floor. Tie
sunshine, cleaning on madame's scarlet
sewing, seems to recognize the ripe
round fruit, and glows anew as having
met it elsewhere in sweet familiar
orchards and on sunny slopes of far-away
hills.
"An for you, maman," cries Fifne,
looking down on the treasure. "And
oh, maman, he will give me ride in the
great wagon out to the beautiful country
aQU tuc uGll6 Olv1 uuObucI .
Madame's cheeks flush, her eyes scin-
tillate with an angry light.
"What is it you say, Fidne? And
who gave you these %
But the child only answered breath
lessly and confusedly. The apples were
delicious, and Fifne was happy, but
madame did not like strangers nor
strangers gifts. She sat an1iously at
the high window next day, looking down
for Fifine as she came from school.
The street was long and winding,
grimy and decaying; but people swarmed
In it as if life was not undesirable. They
throve in the scents and sounds and stiff
ing air; they laughed, they chatted, they
congregated in the tumble-down door
ways; and looked their poverty square
in the face, shook hands with it, as it
were.
But the street had its pleasures too,
once in awhile, and its pictures. AS at
this instant, when madame, looking down
from the high window, saw wagon-load
of apples come jolting along, ruddy,
shining and mellow. A boy in brimless
hat and blue shirt sat in the midst of
the heap, and tall, sunburned young
fellow, with trousers tucked in his boots,
walked alongside. hand in hand with a
child, who danced about him, with her
golden hair flying and her pretty feet
twinkling, as she pointed up laughing to
the far window where madame sat.
In one sudden moment she saw the
little one caught up, deposited in half
full basket, and both, lifted on the young
mans shoulder, disappeared in the
house.
Up stairs they came, tramping, laugh
ing and Fi6ne, eager, joyful and breath
less, was deposited at the door.
"Oh, mammal she cried, clapping
her hands, "see what we have brought
you! And here is Monsieur Jack"
Outside, abashed, blushing, stood the
ounc man with the basket. Madam