The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1878-12-29
THE NEW ORLEANS DEMOCRAT SUNDAY, DECEMBER &c. 1878

IL, SUNDAY, DECEMBEK
!; living like hermit-crab. Leroy asked me to
} go. with him this evening to the Chatelet,
but. By the way, he gave me an order
} where Is 1t? Ah-uoita! They are playing
for this wonderful danseuss that all Paris Is
talking about-Mlle. Fernando"
"What does all Paris say about her?" Prim-
rose asks, catching at drifting weed
THAT she dances like SylDh, and looks
like an angela fallen angel"
"Is she bad woman, then p
"She is, suppose, what most OF her class
are, neither better nor worse, have not seen
"tive me that ORDER" the girl interrupts,
in her pretty imperious way. "you shall not
see her. Fallen angels are dangerous"
He laughs as he gives her the paper.
"Soyes tranQaaAe; woman Of the Fernando
class would have no attraction for me, IL she
were as beautiful as Helen"
She lets fall the trailing water-weed, and
watches it as it drifts away.
"But Mademoiselle Fernando has nothing
to do with what we were speaking OF just
now" he resumes. "You were going to tell
me-"
She looks up suddenly.
you shall know tomorrow, | promise.
But don't tease me now / want to have a
happy day; perfect day; something to look
back upon when-when spring and summer
are past, and winter is come"
$50 be It," he acquiesces, I'VE will have q
holiday. to remember all our lives. Steer
straight, little onei"
| The sweet May day is In it's golden prime
when they reach their destination ut st. Cloud.
The park Is looking its loveliest. The wide
chestnut avenues are In blossom, the bees are
busy among the fragrant lines, the young
grass Is like the turf In Dante's Paradise, "the
| color OF emeralds newly broken" and all
things are so bright and fresh, and full OF
hope and promise, that the mere sight OF them
/ bog I'm pY,fpa hn n ix,o
Primrose had shaken off her thoughtful
| MOOD her face Is as unclouded as the day.
| She is ripping over with childish gayety, de-
lighted with everything, wondering, e1claim-
rUn Jour de Mai
Ca me prends une envio
Dplanter un Mai
la porte de ma mie"
she sings, when they are sitting to rest In the
chestnut plantation, within hearing OF the
| cascades.
She has lapful OF wild flowers which she
| is arranging, sprays Of fragrant hawthorn,
buttercups and daisies, frail wood anemones,
and a few half-opened rosebuds.
Primrose, how beautiful you are!" he says,
when she is silent.
"And you too" she answered seriously, as
she fastens rose in his coat.
"Why do you laugh? 1t Is true With your
dark eyes, and your dark curls, and your
white teeth that you are showing nOw-me-
The last four words in a hurried whisper,
with a look that sets his pulses throbbing.
He puts up his arms and draws her head
down, and she kisses him on the lips for the
first time
"Are you happy?"' she asks him after ST.
lence, with her cheek pressed against his.
almost too happy" he whispers back.
And 1t Is true, for at the moment his heart
swells with that vague sadness which 10 the
shadow OF great Joy.
"Do you think you are-the worse for hay
Ing known me?" she questions, still with her
cheek against his.
again after to-day, should be better man
all my life for having known and loved you,
"That is well. I am glad" she says, very
earnestly.
Primrose Is that tear upon your cheek"
mo, dew.drop," she answers, with quick
laugh, brushing 1t away.
The golden day is over, and they are float
ing homeward down the Gardening river.
The evening IL gray, chill, silent, almost to
mournfulness. The sunset fire is all burned
away, save for one long, luminous streak low
down In the west. Dusky wells OF shade de-
scend over the landscape from the purple
gray sky, where the crescent moon Is rising.
Now and then light breeze ruffles the river
and whispers through the poplars, which
stand like phantoms In the twilight. The
lowing Of cattle In the misty meadows by the
water-side falls plaintively on the ear.
Is very SlleDC. Her brightness
and gayety seem to have faded with the fad
ing light. She sits motionless, gazing straight
before her, with that overcast look on her face
which alters it so strangely.
ma toute-bette, speak to me, her compan-
your white wrapper, you look like your own
ghost. Is it really your"
Eyes, it is l." she answers, but to his
fancy her voice sounds distant and forlorn, as
IL it WERE indeed ghost that spoke
A IN
him, as If they were drifting, she and he
out into the shadows OF some unknown fu-
ture.
He is almost glad when the journey is
the dust
They are approaching the first of the gas-lit
bridges which span the river like fiery neck
laces, when Primrose leans forward and asks
What shall you do this evening when you
leave me"
$50 home and think of you."
mo, you must not do that, you will be
triste. You can go to the Chatelet; here is
the ORDER
Not tonight; not after this sweet day."
Eyes, you must go. l have been thinking,
and-and It will be best for you. Take it; to
please me"
She is SO urgent that he reluctantly COM
plies.
"How cold your hand isp' he exclaims. as
their fingers meet.
eyes. / am cold and tired" she answers
YEARLY; "but it has been pleasant, has it
not 7"
cit has been what you said it should be-
perfect"
yes. Whatever tomorrow may bring
forth, it cannot rob us of the hours that are
past We have had our happy day."
She does not speak again till they are
standing on the quay.
1--WE will take carriage at the next stand,
and will put you down In the Place de Chat
elet, and drive on home"
A few minutes later they are driving
through the brilliant streets.
Tomorrow, ma chere," Andre says, II
shall wait for you in the Luxembourg Gar
dens at the place where we first met. And
then you will tell me who Primrose isY'
eyes promised YOU should know to-mor-