Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-07-03

90 90 la la--cuckoo.oO la la!'' and went
wandering away down the long avenue,
till my eyes lost him among the long
shadows and green leaves.
At St. Elmo the doctor told me his sad
story.
"Poor Gustave went to the priests
seminary he said, ''but he had no vo-
cation for the church Why the count
wished him to be priest can only guess.
In three years, having refused to enter
the priesthood, he returned to st. Elmo
much improved in culture and appear
ance, bnt strangely unsettled in mind.
The love he had ever borne to the child
Stephanie had, with his increasing years,
taken another phase and become a hope
less passion. His sole thought was to
see her again. Patiently he waited an
other year, trusting to hear news OF her,
but none came. Then there grew npon
him a feverish restlessness and he left
the village abruptly. By what strange
magnetism he knew that Stephanie loved
him, and pined amid all the wealth and
splendor around for his companionship
and the free woods again, cannot tell
you; yet it was certain that it was so, and
his heart knew it. But though he wan
dered from city to city in quest of her,
they did not meet. He was SO ignorant
of the world, so poor, SO lonely, that it
was no marvel his search was unsuccess-
full. He did not even know Stephanie's
real name. You will remember the
count made it known here only to you
and myself. But at length they met-he
a poor wanderer in the streets, she the
dainty queen of some royal fete, stepping
into her carriage. He recognized her in
stantly and sprang forward, crying,
sStephanie Stephanie!' The gems
darmes thrust him back and he fell among
the crowd, beaten down like some poor
weed
"The girl heard his voice, and clinging
with passionate tears to her father, she
implored him to seek out her brother her
dear brother. She called him by that
name still. The count soothed her and
gave her many promises, then placed her
within the palace, while he sought out
the guard and begged that the quaint fig
ure might not be allowed to disturb them
again.
"The frightened count left that city in
a few DAYS; Stephan1e, meanwhile, having
vainly striven to find the poor wanderer
who tracked her steps. But what can a
Young girl do? Her weak efforts to dis
cover him were futile indeed. The count
travelled from place to place, but at Rome,
Paris, Brussels, the same wild figure burst
through the intervening CROWDS ana
struck Stephanie senseless with his bag
gard face.
ebay by day the girl seemed perishing
of some great, unspoken sorrow. AT last
thinking the change might save her lie,
her father pressed her to marry; then she
flung her arms around him and whispered
the truth:
".I pine for the free forest, father, l
pine TO see Gustave again. Everywhere
/ go hear his voice, everywhere l see
the deep dells, the rugged hills, the foam
ing rivers of the Ardennes. Take me
home; let me die there!'
"The counts pride gave way.
"sTry to live, my child he said. Ii
you love this young man he shall be my
SON.
ssHe sought the outcast now as earnest
ly as he had before tried TO avoid him,
but the search was useless And in sor-
row and gloomy foreboding, he Travelled
to the Ardennes with his sick daughter.
"There are strange mysteries in OUT
nature-I speak as a doctor-but strang-
est of all these are those mystic forewarn-
ings of the future which we call fore
bodings--t those prophetic voices which
at times speak to the soul in clear and
awful tones.
"Whether these brought Gustave
hither, whispering that Stephanie was
coming, who shall say? l can but tell
YOU that in the woods where they parted
there she found him. As the carriage
drove beneath the solemn, arched roof of
leaves he stood forth to meet it-a mad
man--a child as she had left him, ready
to weep, to laugh, to play, as in the old'
old days when they were children to-
gether.
"Gustave told you truly. She wept
upon his breast, and she died for sor-
row."
.sShe had come in hope, and it was
quenched; she had come in love, and it
was drowned in pity. The shock. the
grief killed her. On the last day OF her
life, as we stood around her, she turned
suddenly toward her father, and thanked
him sweetly for bringing her hither:
"sI die where l had wished to die, -
she said, "where my mother closed heI
eyes, in my home, with all l love around
me. Turn nv face to the window that
may see the forest again: Poor Gustave!
take care of him when l am gone away.
And, father, bury me at St. Elmo, and let
him one day lie by my SIDE
"The count obeyed her. After his
daughters funeral he left us, a broken
man. AS for me, l moralize and wonder
why the sins of the parents are visited SO
heavily ON the children. ! ask, too,
whether the counts pride or Mary Grey's
disobedience caused all this sorrow?''
This was the doctors story. Thus
from different lips have woven together
the history of Gustave lie Fou. He went
by that name for many years, and when
he died, they laid him by the side OF a
grave on which stood single stone with
the single ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Aged
nineteen"
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