The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1883-12-22
Select Storp.
MONSIEUR LIE PAsTEUR.
From Al the Year Round.
CHAPTER

Service was over. The last hymn haC
been sung with all the vigor of mountain
lungs; the last wooden shoe had clatterec
down the paved aisle; the last voice hac
died away on the still, pine-scented air, anc
then the minister lifted his sad young face
off the worn cushion of the high, narrow
pulpit and came slowly down the steps into
the church.
Outside, among the hills, the sunshine
lay in belts from peak to peak, and the
Sabbath stiffness was unbroken save fol
the hum Of bees or the far-off slumberouS
twittering birds; but the four whitewashed
walls of the ugliest building in the whole
canton held only straight backed, pine wood
pews, homely and inartistic, and square ill
fitting windows that dimmed the daylight
without owning the power to exclude chill
draughts or keen northeasters
The minister sighed as he lifted his hat
off the little deal table fronting the pulpit
and went slowly out into the sunshine.
Perhaps the unloYeliness of his surround
ings forced itself with scarcely recognized
intrusiveness on his notice; perhaps his
thoughts, following his heart, had escaped
his control and were far away.
On the narrow path between the patches
of sca4ty turf belonging to the still church
yard among the pines, the old sexton paced
slowly, summing himself in sabbatical sol
emnity.
"You are waiting to lock up, Carton?"
ayes, sir.
''There was very good congregation to-
day"
!!Yery, sir"
"It is lovely weather even for August.
'Yes, indeed, sir.
Having uttered the familiar words of
salutation which, week in, week out,
scarcely varied, the minister passed out be-
tween the low graves that lay to either side
of him, and approached the high road
He was a man of seven or eight and
twenty, or thereabouts, slight, dark, deli
cate looking, with an indefnable something
about him speaking of culture and sehol,
arship-a something odd and out of place
in the remote little parish on the upper
ranges Of the habitable Alps, where a score
or two Of peasants loved him and called
him an. lie Pasteur." Of course they did
not understand him, but thorough eompre-
hension is not an essential of reverence,
and they understood enough to know that
he was very wise and learned, and so far
above them that he must be very close to
heaven. They were little afraid Of him,
of course, but that was only right and
fitting-far more afraid of him than the
children were, who took him flowers, and
their best wood carvings and pieces of honey
when such things could be spared for pres.
ents by careful mothers at home,
Chased by the unusual warmth Of that
summer day, the mists had shrunk and
shriveled into obscure corners Of the valley
In the higher air score of larks caroled
ioyously; from the neglected turf on the
quiet graves the bright-eyed daisies raised
their innocent faces smilingly
Nature was fair there for once, and yet
he shivered as he looked around him. Did
not even the beauty speak of loss and iso-
lation and deathP
"You have kept me here so long |
thought you were never coming.
s'Did you wait for me ~
eYes.'
GLOW good of you! ! never thought
of that"
He had lifted his hat hurriedly, and was
standing bareheaded before the girl who
had addressed him.
ave shall part for good so soon, and
YOU have avoided us SO much of late that
/ must make occasions of seeing you"
t'You are very kind
"Kind to myself, yes. Do you think l
am so little grateful as to owe you all | DO
without-loving you somewhat in returng'
Loving him She had said the word
quite simply, translating into her sweet
hesitating French, yet he quivered as need
lessly and stupidity as though he had mis-
understood.
He muttered something in his throat,
not looking at her, but at the ghostly mists
in the valley.
''Do you know why | waited for you
here?" she went on, looking at him with
mingled laughter and sorrow in her sweet
blue English eyes Because it was here
met you first, and here it seems fitting
somehow to talk with you last when | am
so sorry. 1t is nearly year since we came
here, mother and |, and took possession OF
YOU, because we were strangers, and you
were the only civilized inhabitant in our
newly discovered territory. And you were
so kind-do you remember? | knew at
once that | should like you, though | did
not guess how dear everything here would
grow.
He could not speak. He was leaning
on the rustic gate with his haggard face
resting on his hand and his eyes averted.
"And you took us to the sweet old
chateau-do you remember ?-and told us
you knew Madame la Baronne, and that
she would let us have her house while she
was in Italy. And do you remember how
anxious mother was that you should be
quite sure we were not adventuresses, anC
how she referred you to the Ambassador
at Berne, and how you set all explanation
aside with the perfect courtesy that is only
learned in the schools of France p
II remember something of all this"
"But am sure you don't remember al
the pleasure you gave; how you used tC
read to us by the fire and play the organ
to us in the old hall, and teach us to forge
all the Joy and pain Of England"
Don't"
He raised his hand with a gesture al
though he would avert blow. And the
vague sadness in his face had expressed
itself at last, and it was pain.
How cruel she was in her sweet kind
ness, how cruel to remind him of all h
had gained, of all he was SO soon to lose
All, those dear dead days in which she hat
been all the world to him, those long brigh
evenings in the old, shadowy, fragrant
rooms of the castle, amid the mellow light
of the wide hearth and the many-armeC
chandeliers; with the organ beneath hi
fingers interpreting all he felt, and the GLOW
from the fire falling on her face and find
ing out the dimple in her cheek, the swee
curves of her neck, or the fragrant bios
SONS that rose and fell with every breatl
she drew How cruel she was to recall i
all. as he stood here in the chill sunshine
while shadowy hands beckoned her ava.
from him
'Is there anything the matter ?"
II am weary-that is all
$50 l thought to-day, and that is anoth