Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1883-11-20
DENISE.
A VILLAGE LOVE STORY.

Translated for the Evening Call from the
French of Ca:ulle Mendes.l
In the village among the mountains
where they had sent me, a poor suffering
youth, to breathe the pure air, the little
cemetery, all covered with flowers, had not
been closed for long while either day or
night, because the drunken grave-digger
had lost the key and because the mist and
rain had rusted the lock. But where is the
advantage in locking up cemeteries ? There
is no danger of their inhabitants escaping.
They never leave their beds in the sepul-
chres; besides the open gate may suggest
the idea of entering for short prayer to
the forgetfulness of the living. People as
young as 1 was then do not think of death,
on the principle that one is not sleepy in
the morning. The garden of the dead
was the garden of the children. I often
went there to stroll through the narrow
alleys bordered with white roses among the
gravestones and the crosses, but not during
the sunny hours when the crowd of boys
released from school played hide and seek
behind the monuments. l waited for the
shades of evening-have you ever noticed
that it grows dark sooner in cemeteries
than elsewhere, as if additional gloom
mounted from the resting places of the de-
parted ?-to slip into the wan and solitary
| Enclosure, for it was little before night
fall that she came to pray faithfully at the
tomb of her betrothed.
| She? Denise.
| She was the daughter of farmer who
all day long goaded his oxen over the mea-
gre hillside fields She was so pretty in
the budding glory of her seventeen years
that ON Sundays when she entered the
no f1rr, fboi,
heads to smile upon her, and if on the way
she gave aims to some beggar the mendi-
cant was filled with such admiration for the
giver that he forgot to thank her for the
gift.
AS soon as she reached the funereal gar
den, she knelt before gravestone beside a
young willow to which she had attached a
plaster holy water vessel in the form of a
shell. In the daytime the birds came there
to drink the holy water. Upon the stone,
surrounded by loN iron railing, were
scattered here and there pale artificial roses
that had formed the crown she wore at her
first communion, tiny religious pictures i'll
gilt paste-board frames, and gilt candle
sticks. The tombstones resenbled those
affairs that the children erect at the street.
corners on Fete-D Dieu days. With lowered
eyes and hands clasped beneath her chin,
she prayed fervently, with petty move
ment of her lips. Her somewhat sombre
woolen dress-more sombre in the evening
gave her almost the air of a novice at
her orisons, and every time she bent her
head to make the sign of the cross the fut-
ter of her white Cap seemed like the flap
ping of her guardian angels wings.
In the distance and close to her also,
withdrawing and returning, watched her,
and I thought how very happy must be that
slumbering young man for whom she
prayed with so much devout affection. But
felt no jealousy quite the contrary. If
l had not loved Denise because she was as
delicate and as pink as hedge eglantine, l
should have loved her because of her tidel-
ity to a tender remembrance. The story
of the two children who had adored each
other was well known throughout the dis
trict and had been frequently related to me.
AS he was poor-a young fellow. somewhat
of a marauder, who occasionally hired him
self out to the farmers for harvest-they
had been forbidden to marry. Then he
was so overwhelmed with sadnesss that he
resembled himself only as the shadow re-
sembles the body. Vainly-every time
they met stealthily in the lanes or in the
wood-she swore to him that she would
Weu uO OIC SluCc SIG COulu uUU D0 LIS. IL
is not consolation, when one is famished,
that others are dying of hunger; and one
day some shepherds, who were coming
down from the mountain, found him dead
in the woods, with his gun, which had
been discharged, beside him. She had,
therefore, good reason to pray at the tomb
of the beloved dead. Willingly would
have initiated her example and knelt also;
the more SO as in that way l should have
been close beside Denise, which would
have rendered the prayer very agreeable,
and, believe me | would have chosen the
longest one | could have found.
For many evenings she did not see, or
feigned not to see, that was there watch
ing her. / vain, hidden behind the bushes,
/ occasionally shook them with my hands
at which the birds awoke in their nests
with astonishment-or scraped the gravel
of the alley with my foot, she never turned
her head, absorbed in her grief, believing,
perhaps, that the wind had made the
noise. At last there came to me-oh !!
not anger, but sorrow because of this indit-
ference OR this disdain. | loved her so
tenderly 1t seemed to me that if she had
looked at ME should have had in my heart
all the heaven she had in her eyes. Alas !!
her forehead was always bowed toward the
stone; and her little lips were always NOV
ing silently. Go to her, speak to her, l
dare not. Often in her absence pretended
she was there. 1 said to myself, II will
speak to her, to see if would be brave in
the Event of an opportunity offering. Alas !!
I moved my lips-as she did while pray
ing-without uttering word, and took
flight as if she had driven me away. New
ertheless, one day | was extraordinarily au-
dacious l wrote a very long letter, in
which recounted all my affection and all