Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-07-03
STEPHANIE.
BY F. z. NJ. MOTLEY.

T..
In that widest portion of the Ardennes
where the woods grow more stately and
the giant ash and elm and pine stretch on
and on to the Black forest, there lies in
the very heart of the green a village, which
/ will name ST. Elmo. 1t is wonderfully
beautiful; except Bouillon, the birth
place Of the renowned Godfrey, there is
not hamlet in the forest that can vie
with its picturesque rocks and its wild
scenery.
Many years ago went to St. Elmo for
weeks fishingin the brawling, troubled
stream, which, pouring over rock and
rapid, comes leaping from the forest and
dashes by the village on its way to the
Mouse. My road lay through glens and
woods filled with beauty. All around my
path sang the oriole and nightingale
AS the day grew hot, plunged deep
er and deeper among the soft shades of
green, till about midday, when every
breath was still with heat, l reached
magnificent forest glade six miles long,
straight as the arrow flies, and arched
above by interlacing branches and roof
of leaves Beautiful exceedingly was the
arched roof, and so refreshing in the heat
to every jaded sense, that the eye bathed
In its green sea, and the ear drank in its
stiffness, and the hand longed to touch its
dewy verdure.
"Surely the very place." said l, ''for
an Arcadian feast"
So sprang from my horse and fastened
him to tree. Then l took the basket
hung on the saddle, and unfolded its con-
tents and spread them on the sward A
goodly repast for an anchorite was mine,
and l enjoyed it like hermit-a won
drous sense of solitude, of praise, of life
filing all my being.
:sHere is thine own health, wayfarer,"
/ said aloud, as took the tankard IN my
hand.
81 will trinQuer with the stranger"
cried an unexpected voice. looked all
around, and up and down the green glade,
but through the whole length of the
lonely avenue of trees, the sea of leaf and
grass renamed unspotted by aught but
fitting birds and tremendous, Pickering
shadows
sCuckoo-oo la, lap sang the voice
again. This is the refrain of an Arden
Rais song sung by the peasants in the old
ness about it redolent of forest life and
freedom. The merry voice echoed me
among the leaves, and looking up saw,
swinging on great bough of beech, mid
Way between me and the great roof, a
wild figure with long hair, sunburnt face
and great dark eyes, somewhat restless,
though full of glee.
Seeing that perceived him, he swung
himself to the ground from the swaying
branch, and would have fled away, but
that, starting up, l seized him by the
arm. He was youngster of about four
teen, wild, shy and free as wild wood
bird.
sLet me CO." he cried, "we are playing
scache-cache' If you don't let me run,
Stephanle will find me.''
A little, blooming face peeped out from
among the leaves as he spoke, but disap-
peared like frightened bird on seeing a
stranger.
isNow fetch me Stephanie," l said,
sand YOU and she shall have these cakes
and all this fruit you see piled upon the
grass"
On he darted like an arrow, as Il left
him, and doubted whether the hope of
cakes would be strong enough to conquer
his savage shyness and bring him back.
But he came; or rather the girl came lead
ing him She was smaller than he, but
she had an older, calmer look. AS |
looked into her eyes, saw in them an ex-
preston never found in any girlish faces,
In places within the pale of civilization
an expression so unwilling of evil, so de-
void of that species of conscious bashful-
ness which brings the reddening cheek
and the averted glance, that it came near
ct to my thought of angels than anything
I had ever yet seen on earth.
Then, too, she was beautiful, and her
beauty was of a most rare order. Her
complexion was of that clear olive that at
night shines with the luster of ivory, her
small figure was the perfection of grace,
and her hands and feet tiny. Her hair
was of peculiar brown, like the brown
of birds wing, and utterly unbrighten-
ed by any lighter tints
This is her description, but words fail
to do Justice to the power and wonder of
her beauty. It's the magic and charm of
loneliness, not the form alone, that con-
stitute its true dominion.
In laundering words | asked the child
her name.
"Stephanie, the Stranger" she an
swered.
81 too, am a foreigner, Stephanie."
She gazed at me more earnestly here.
ssAre you from my mothers country?"
she said. care you from EnglandY"
eyes, am from England"
CITIZEN you may kiss me if you will"
And then she presented first one cheek
and then the other, in the French fashion,
while stopped and touched them with
nv lips. Perhaps she saw on the boys
face Slight anger at this caress. for she
stole her hand into his and drew him
away.
"Come, Gustave, let up play cache
cache again"
"Take the fruit with you, my chill
dren, | cried:
The boy looked back, but he did not