Richland beacon., 1880-03-06
THE SACRIFICE.
lFRoN THE FRENCH OF HENRY GREyILLK.1

Maurice was wandering aimlessly in
the depths of the forest. 1t had ceased
raining, but the drops of water were
still rolling from Leaf to leaf with the
iight sound of q nearly-exhausted Foun-
tain trickling into its half-slled basin.
and in the distance the dark path opened
out into wet glade Of a deep green of
exquisite sOftness. The trunks of the
trees were very black, their Branches
blacker stall, and the massive boughs of
the chestnut trees above the Young
painters head seemed like the high
arches of q cathedral at the hour when
all is dars in the church, and when the
colored windows cast into the gloom
CLEANS OF light 30 intense and 80 mys-
terious that you would think them lit
up by fire of live Goals from without.
Maurice loved this hour at the decline
Of day, when, after .he rain, the sun
has not shone out, and when grav tint
is cast over everything, blending out
lines. softening angles and investing
every shape with smooth and exc auisite
roundness. He walked slowly, discover.
ing every moment in the we'll known
forest come beauty till then unknown
and he was thrilled to the very depths
OF being by that tender admiration for
nature which is one of the characteristics
- Of genius.
Baving reached tho glade he looked
around him: The grass was green and
brilliant; the delicate leaves of the
shrubs, shining beneath the water which
had washed them, formed a fine, lace
like network against the dark back
ground OF tbs great forest beyond. He
stopped in order to see better, to observe
better and to take in better the impress
SION OF fie wet forest, more impressive
and more human so to speak, in its great
shadows than beneath the sunshine in
all che splendor of the day.
The pretty and graceful figure of q
young girl stood out against the foliage
of the birch-trees. She advanced with
. supple movement, without perceiving
Maurice, who, Is immovable as the
trunk Of chestnut tree, was Watching
her. When two steps from him the
young girl perceived him. She started
and let fall q few twigs from the fagot
of wood that she was carrying on her
head.
"You frightened me-" she said, smil-
ing, and her large black eyes shone out
merrily beneath the tangle of her blonde
hair.
He looked at her without answering.
A complete harmony which no words
can render, reigned between the slender
figure, the laughing face, the lace-like
foliage of the glade and the tints of the
landscape.
l"Stand STILL" said the young; al am
going to take your portrait"
She wished to push back her hair,
which had fallen over her face, but he
prevented her BY . gesture.
Remain - you are"
He seated himself on Q stone and
Iketched rapidly the outline and fea-
lures Of his young model. She was q
peasant, but delicate and refined as the
young girls of the peasantry often are
before their complete their often tardy
development. The eyes were already
those of q woman, while the smile was
still that of child.
[" How old are you I" asked the painter
still working.
al shall soon be sixteen"
"Alreadyl saw you three years ago
Q little bit of thing"
81 was very little," said she, with a
pretty laugh, and frank and bold S q
sparrow; "but ! grew fast, and on st.
Johns day I shall have lovers"
"Why, on st. Johns dayT asked
the young man, stopping to look at her.
"Because one must have lover to
dance with ground the bonfire"
So soon! That pure brow, those inno-
cent eyes, that childish mouth, all
these were to be profaned by the boor.
ish gsllantry of . rustic! Maurice felt
. vague jealousy d avn inhis heart.
"Wiu you have me for . lover?"
said he, resuming his work.
sob. you'll you are gentleman
and I'll am peasant; good girls do
not listen to gentlemen" /
That is the village code of morals;
the Young man answered nothing.
IL cannot 80 any longer; will you