Daily Republican. [volume] ([Wilmington, Del.]) 1874-1890, 1882-03-08
OLD CORNILLk'S SECRET.
FROM THE FRENCH OF ALPHONSE
DAUDET.


DAUDET.
Old Cornille, the miller, had lived
for sixty years among his wheat and
flour. Steam mills had driven him
nearly mad, and for one entire week
after their unwelcome appearance the
old ran had run about the village
streets like one suddenly bereft 81
reason, loudly asserting that all Pro
vence would be poisoned by the flour
ground in these new bewitched ma.
chimes; but alas quite unheeded by
the careless crowd. At last, rendered
desperate through misery. the old man
shut himself up in his deserted mill,
living there quite alone, like a wild
beast in his den. Ho even refused to
have with him his granddaughter,
Vivette, a sweet girl of fifteen years,
who, since the death Of her parents,
hal no other protector in the wide
world.
The poor child was then obliged to
earn her own living and to hire her.
self out among neighboriDg farms for
seed sowing, harvest or the gathering in
Of olive crops. But in spite of his
strange conduct, the old grandfather
seemed tenderly attached to the girl,
and 1t was by no means a rare occur
renee for him to travel eight weary
miles on foot scorched by the burning
sun of midsummer only to see his
child at the farm where she was labor.
ing and to listen to the tone of her fresh
young voice, while tears gathered slow.
ly in his dim eyes, and his wrinkleL
hand shook sadly az it rested in bles-
sing on her head. For a long time
past no one in the village had carried
him wheat to grind but nevertheless
the huge wings of his mill turned
briskly aud merrily all the day. long
precisely as In the old happy time.
Often in the dusk of early evening the
old miller was to be seen on the coun.
try roads, driving bis mule before him,
heavily laden with well-flled sacks
of -four.
One fine day Francet Mamai, the old
piper, suddenly opened his eyes to the
fact that his eldest son an
Cornille's pretty grandchild, little
Nvette, had taken the liberty of fall
ing in love with each other. Francat
it wiser, before the affair
further, to demand the
approval and consent; and
with this end In view he started at
once to the mill to beg conve rsation
with the old grandfather. The miller
shouted 10 him from the other side OF
the door to return to his fife playing,
and If he wished to find a wife tor his
boy, to seek one among the lasses at
he new steam mills The poor pi per |
returned to the village to tell the young
people of his failure The poor things
could scarcely credit the cruelty, and
yained permission of the piper to go
;hemselvea to the mill, and attempt to
'oftrn the heart Of the terrible grand
'acher, Cornlle. /
A few moments before their arrival
I'D Cornile had lett ,he mill. Once
inside, strange to relate, the large up
'er room was em nty-quite empty. Not
J single sack was to be seen; not a
rain Of wheat. The smaller room ne
ow bad the same appearance of misery
nd desolation. In one corneE were
hree or four torn sacks, from the holes
4 which ESCAPED few small stones
nd thin stream of fine white earth.
his, then, was a poor Cornille's Sc.
o daily loaded his patient mule con- :
aimed only rubbish ami bits of broken [.
laster-and all this to save the honor 6
f his beloved mill The new fashioned ',
team mill had long since robbed him 9
his last customer; although busy !,
'ings flew merrily from morning until .
light. The patient wheel turned weari- :,
! upon nothing. The lovers returned =
, tell what they had discovered, both y
eeping bitterly.
Without loss of time the old piper !
NV to the houses of the different neigh
)rs, to acquaint them with the newly
scovered facts, ana consult with them
: to what had best be done. 1t was {
lickly decided to collect all tine wheat IL
1t remaining in the several barns, and p
try it at once to Cornille's mill. b
Don the entire village joined in the t,
'ocession, which speedily arrivei at ii
70 mill, accompanied by long string O.
mules, each laden with bursting q
cks of wheat-real wheat this time tt
atore the door sat Father Cornille II
ION one of his torn sacks Of plaster, il
3 gray head buried in his hands, and
It tears falling thickly from between IL
8 withered fingers. "Alas, wretched IL
/ man that l ami" he mnaned; "there 81
nothing left me but to die. My mil W
dishonored, my secret discoverea" sa
d his bitter sobs wrung the very souls fir
the supplemented listeners, who
derstood, too late, that to the old
Her his mill had been as fondly.
red child, whose dishonOr was bow -,
: his white hair to the very dust. ."
At that instant the villagers cried out ~ II,
eerily, as in the good old days: ~ ~
lalloa, miller halloa, Friend Cor. as
le |" and, before the SQUAD of their % ~
y voices had died away, a great pile u ~,
sacks stood upon the stones before a.. ~
, door, all trimming over with beau. 49, 49,
III red wheat, which covered the ~
,und on every side. Father Co-nille a.,
ed his mead, and slowly rubbing his y" ~.
r dimmed eyes, looked about him W.
utter bewilderment Then, rising |s g..
IN his seat, he siezed greeiily a hand .ta
of wheat, and, turning itover in his w,
jhered palm, uttered, half laughing a,o
half crying: eyes, yes is wheat, W
| wheat Give it to me, let me touch
to be quite, quite sure!" Then look nj
at his old friends with reproachtul j
g the poor man added, half trium- lat
Intly: "Ah yes, knew we'll that dis
line you would return to me, every cor
of you; those rascals at the steam the
Is are prisoners and thieves. Have PHI
Ut said 40 from the first? and did l bee
do my best to prevent you going to it i
n ?" fins
! the first ardor of their sympathy the
selfreprOach, the neighbors would da,
q borne Cornille in triumph to the ben
age, mounted upon their shoulders !; Alb
the old man shook his head and neu
, with a pathetic smile: Ay