The Indianapolis leader. (Indianapolis, Ind.) 1879-1890, 1882-01-14
THE STARS.
The Quaint Story of Provencal Shepherd,
by AIphonse Daudet.

by AIphonse Daudet.
Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood
Years and years ago, when | guarded my
hocks on the Luberon, l often aud often
went for weeks without seeing living soul.
There 1 lived alone in the fields with my
dear dog Lubry and my sheep.
Occasionally, to be sure, the old Hermit
would pass by on his way to gather simples
and herbs, or caught a brief glimpse of the
black face of a charcoal burner from Pied
mont These, though, amounted to little,
for, from force of habit, they were as if
dumb. They had lived so long in such pro
found solitude that they had nearly lost the
power of speech, and besides knew nothing
of what was going on In the towns aud viii
lagos about US.
Consequently, once in each fortnight
when | heard far down the mOuntai n-path
the tinkllng of the little bells that heralded
the coming of the mules from the farm with
my supply of provisions. and when at last
beheld the brown cap of old Aunt Norade
rising above the hillside, laughed aloud in
my JOY.
/ was sure, then, of hearing all the village
news, and all that was going on in the valley,
all about the marriages and baptisms, and
also about matter that interested me far
more these. / should hear all about my
masters daughter, StephaDette who was the
prettiest girl to be found within ten lie tgues.
Without showing too much eagerneSs, |
could easily find out il she went to the va
rious fetes and If she had any new lovers.
If any among you ask what all this was to
newly | cared about the fetes to which
she went or the lovers she had, since | was
only a poor shepherd lad up among the
mountains-I answer that was only twenty
and that Stephanette was the loveliest crea-
ture had ever seen.
One Sunday, as 1 was telling you, when I
was impatiently expecting the arrival of my
provisions for the next fortnight, L waited
long past the usual hour, and could not I'M
derstand why they were so late in coming.
In the early morning | said TO myself, 1T
is because OF High Mass" At noon came a
terrible gust of rain ard wind, and con-
cluded that the mule had been kept back by
reason of the bad state of the roads. About
o'clock the rain had ceased; the sky was
without q cloud; every tree and rock, every
twig and bush, was washed clean from dust,
and shone with fresh cleanliness.
At last heard. amid the jingling of little
brooks, now swelled to mountain torrents
by the shower, and above the monotOnous
patter made by the dropping OF water from
the trees, the distant tinkle OF the longed-
for bell.
1t came nearer and nearer, ringing with as
CHEEKY a sound as the chimes on Easter Sun
day. But it was not the farm-boy, nor yet
was q old Norade whom beheld sitting up
as straight as al arrow between the two
baskets. 1t was-guess whom? IL was our
young lady. Yes, just as true as live, 1T
was she, and looking as sweet and as fresh
as a rose.
The boy was i'll, she said, and Aunt No
rade had a holiday, and been gone nearly a
week. Sh had gone TO visit her children,
whom she saw only once in the year. My
young mistress told me all this as she dis
mounted from her mule She told me- too,
that she had lost her way, and that was the
reason she was so late. This so Inded very
queer to me, because, as looked at her in
her Sunday dress, with her gay ribbons and
fiuttering laces, she looked much more as if
she were going TO a dance than as if she had
been making her way through the bushes.
Ali the pretty little creature. 1t seemed
to rue that my eyes would never weary OF
looking at her. 1 had ne yer before been so
near her. Sometimes, TO be sure in winter,
when my hocks were herded on the plain
below, and | went to the farm for my sup
per- she would occasionally pass through the
hall with a quick step and with averted
eyes, Then she was always as carefully
dressed as now, and she held her head high
with madenly pride. And now she was
alone with me on that hillside. Was not
that enough TO make me lose my head?
When she had unpacked her basket,
Stephanette began to look about her cur
lously. Then gathering up her pretty skirts,
lest she should soil them. and injure their
freshness against the wet grass, she went
into the hut to see, as she said. in what sort
of a place | slept She looked at the heap
of fresh straw covered with a sheepskin. at
nv big cloak hanging against the wall near
by, at my bow and arrows and my gun. All
this seemed TO amuse her.
us it here that you live, my poor shep-
herd?" she said.
How lonely you must be-" she added,
after a pause. What do you here? WhaI
do you think about?'
wanted to say, but had not the cour-
age, "0f you, mistress"
This would only have been the truth. My
trouble was so great that could not speak
/ think she saw this, and she was mischiev-
Gus enough to increase my Embarrassment.
"And your best friend, shepherd-dOe;
she often come up here to see you? She
ought to come riding ona golden goat, with
the fairy Esterelle to console youp'
AS she said this my young mistress looked
almost like fairy herself She stood as i
her wings had not ceased to futter only To-
a moment and as if she were in haste TO b.
gone.
felt. in fact, as il she were a feeting ap
partition as she said:
"Good-by, shepherd, good-by!''
''Good-by, mistress" l answered mechan
ically. l watched her until she, with he
empty basket, disappeared down the hill
side 1t seemed to me that the stones which
/ heard roll down the path under the hoo
of the mule fell with dull thud upon m.
heart.
listened with strained and longing ear
and sat motionless, almost in a stupor, unit
the day was done. / scarce dared move les
I should discover that all had been dream
"a vision of my sick fancy.
Toward night, when shining mist file
the valley, and the sheep, chilly and fright
ened, pressed close To each other in thei
eagerness to enter their Enclosure, L hear
my name ca led aloud in eager tones.
I started Surely that was the voice OF m
Young mistress What did il mean?
Presently saw her appear once more bt
fore me. not laughing now-no longer ga
and teasing but shivering from head to foe
with terror and cold.
found out tina, the Sorgue was so swolle
by the recent fer shower that she did nC
venture to make the attempt to cross
alone.
1t was now too late for my young lady
return TO the farm by the other road, while
was very much longer too. Then, beside
she knew nothing of that road and coul
not find ii by herself, and |, of course, cou
not go with her, for / could not leave m
flock.
The idea of spending the night on Il
mountain was naturally very disagreeah
to her. especially on account of the ankle
il would create at home.
/ comtorted her as best could. / said
her:
I'm July, mistress, the nights are We
short"
went to work at once and built a fire tn