The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1878-12-29
PRIMROSE.
Temple Bari

Temple Bari
I.
"Si 10 pouvais trouver un tresor.
Dams un vleux pot des pieces dor
Hnfnte-Anne dAuray
Jirais pieds nus sur Ia route
Andre Duplessis huns snatches Of the ole
Breton song as he sits under the chestnut
trees in the Luxembourg Gardens. II Is Sun
day afternoon; bright April afternoon ter
years ago. The birds are twittering volubly
among the young leaves above his head, tn,
Medici Fountain hard by splashes and spar
kles In the sunshine. Merry troops Of chill
dren run races down the shady 0llees, old
pensioners trot sedately, arm-in-arm. along
the sunny terraces, Quarters and their white.
capped wives or sweethearts loiter on the
green slopes. Everything and every one has
. lock Of spring time and holiday.
ISL j'pouvais trouver un tresor"
the young man repeats, as he pencils the out.
line Of q chestnut-bough In his pocket sketch-
book.
pieces in pot, however, but an even rarer
srouvaille- It was In the hope Of find
ing It that be left his dull little Breton town
. year ago. and instead.of setting down decor
ously to the notary's desk, like his father and
grandfather before him, came up TO Paris
with light heart, and pocket to match, and
q head full Of dreams, hopes, illusions. Many
OF the dreams have vanished, some of the IL
lusions have been rudely dispelled. but the
hopes remain, bright, though distant, ting
ing his path with "the light that never was
on sea or land"
''That is funny song. What Is it called9'
asks voice, SO close to his ear that he
starts.
The bench is double one, with seats fac
ing both ways and the speaker leans over the
dening and frowning a little, but the frown
dies sudden death In the light OF a pair of
the sweetest blue eyes that ever turned lads
head at o first glance. They belong TO girl
OF eighteen. dressed with the dainty neatness
OF a Partisan ouy,iere, in black alpaca, re-
lieved by spotless linen collar and cuffs, her
only ornament a little bunch Of primroses at
her breast. Like most Of her class, she Is
pale, but with that paleness o the pearl
that's fit in fair woman" her head has no
covering but its profuse brOnze-brown hair
growing low on the temples, and waving to
the roots.
"What liz the name Of it2" she repeats, as
he stares at her without replying.
''Mademoiselle," he stammers taking Off
his hat, sit has no name that know of. 1t
is foolish old song we sing In my country
lie Morbihan. Ny nurse taught it me-"
"Ah, you are Breton2" She looks him over
with the fearless curiosity Of o child. "What
are your whatprofessionP'
u am an artist"
~.Artiste-peintre?" she purses her Inns dis
rparagingly; lone Of ces messie,ws who wear
funny hats and velvet coats and never get
their hair cut or pay their debts? Bah why
Hid xrosI nhnoaa IN no q paintarpp
He laughs
Because / could not help 1t. 1 did not
choose Art, she chose me; and when she calls
to you, go you must"
His companion lifts her pretty shoulders
with a gesture OF non-comprehenSion
Say the words OF that song again, will
-yuu2 l like it."
"Dans un vieux pot des pieces dor" : !.
she repeats when he has finished; 81 wish
why? Are you not rich enough alreadyr
Youth and beauty and Innocence are
He stops there rather lamely, for after
looking at him moment, with raised eye
brows, she laughs with the frankaSt amuse-
ment.
items, How drolly you talk; just as they
do at the theatre. One can see you are pro-
yincial."
He colors and bites his lip.
Il ought to have lost some OF my rustic
simplicity BY this time" he says after a mo-
L,
For have lived in Paris more than q year.
And you, mademoiselle2 I"
I am Parisienne born. Shall tell you my
history?'
She clasps her hands over the back OF the
bench, and lays her dmpled chin upon them.
My mother was a blanchisse,lse. at one of
the great lauoirs down by the river. She was
q very passionate woman, and she drank and
when she had been drinking, instead Of beat
enough ran away; was brought back and
beaten worse than ever. When was little
sSldar / ran away again, and again 1 was
brougaat back and punished. Rather mOnotO-
nous, wasn't it ? / should have run away
once more, and for good this time, for had
made up my mind to jump into the river
rather than be caught, but a woman, an ac-
quaintance OF my mothers, offered to take
.lle and teach me her trade"
That was kind"
eyes, was it not?" she answers ever SO dry
". "She bought me OF my mother for so
francs and silk dress. She did not beat me |
E esafve me, but she made me work until my |
limbs ached, and my head was stupid, and |
my heart sick; and If / had staid with her she |
wOasd have N importe; did not stay. / bore |
t TIL ! was fifteen and could earn my own |
living, then left her. After that"
ALTER that?" he repeats, as she pauses.
She Is, gazing straight before her, and 9 |
slrious darkening look, like sudden twilight |
las fallen on her bright face But he has hard |
ynoticed it when it passes like breath from |
| mirror, and she looks at him again.
"Why, after that was my own Amistress, |
md worked for myself. VOLTA t0ut."
-sAnd what is your work. he ventures to |
So. "You are not o seamstressY
Flow do you know thatY'
He lightly touches the first finger Of her left