The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-06-14
AND LUCILLE.


MARGARET AND LUCILLE.
The story Of an Illinois Man who Cared
More for q Field of Corn Than for
Ruins.
At the Lord Warden Hotel in Dover we
found lean Vallot, a Swiss courier, who
had spent his life in the service of travellers
between England and Italy, and who accom-
panied US during a tour of several months
In Western Europe. He was at least sixty
years of age, though still alert and vigor-
GUS; and in his manners there was that
Difference to his employers n that AFRO
gance to inn-keepers and van which
characterized the couriers of the last gen.
Grafton, whose office was far more impor-
tant than is theirs of this day of railways
and multiplied facilities for travel. How
imperious he was when he daredl Henever
allowed anyone else to assist US in and out
of cars and carriages; he pushed aside the
might attend us. He was ~scrupulously
polite in his salutations, yet If the least un-
usual service was required of him, or if his
advice as to routes and conveyances was
not taken, his frigid air and frowning brow
and compressed lips showed selfishness and
a stubborn will, and, while strictly proper
in demeanor, he had, when he pleased, the
faculty Of making one thoroughly uncom-
Portable.
All we ever learned from him of his his
LOAJ nho WL41 A0 OOAAa o oAo ~ al v
Martins, on the road from Geneva to Cha-
mount. 1t was a wild night and we were
the only guests at the inn. By a blazing
wood-fire we were forgetting the chill and
fatigue Of the day, when / noticed that
Jean, who stood in a recess waiting for his
morning orders, was intently perusing a
letter. It was the first indication we had
seen that he had any interest beyond him
self, and I said:
"You have a letter, Jean; / hope it brings
Won good news.O
Neither good nor bad, mademoiselle; it
Is from my girls"
"Your girlsi Where are they? and how
old are they? and what are their names?
Pray sit down and tell us all about them,
s'There is not much to tell, /" he replied, as
with a respectful bow he took the proffered
chair. 'They are Margaret and Lucille,
fifteen and eleven years old, and / have
them at a small pension near Bruxelles."
"And where is their mother?"
'tSbe is dead these five years.
"Poor girls that is sad"
"Yes, and no, mademoiselle. She was q
good woman, but always ailing. If she had
lived 1 could not have paid the doctor and
a servant n kept the children at the PEN
sion too. Now I hope they will soon be
able to do something for themselves"
"Was your wife from your III coun-
tryw
woman would have been stronger, and
made me less of trouble, but Margaret Dane
was a pretty girl and very good-tempered,
and seemed healthy enough in those days.
She was Lady Vernon's maid, and I was
their courier through a long Journey. Dine
Sunday an accident kept us at a dull little
town in Bavaria, n whether I had taken
a glass too much of beer, or how it was, I
never can explain; but ! lost my head and
asked her to marry me. l was forty and
she only twenty-one. 1t was a great mis-
take. She had lived at the Hall and was
used to comfort, and I had lone very well
alone; but, as I said, she was always ailing,
and she brought me five children; only two
of them however-Dieu mercil-survived
their first year. l had no particular fault
to find with her; / suppose she did as well
as she could; but it would a been far
better if she had remained a lady's-maid
and I a bachelor"
'If this was you feeling, Jean, it is not
strange that she was always ailing,' and
has been five years dead. She must have
been very unhappy"
81 dare say she was, but I couldn't help
it. was unhappy myself. And that's the
way with half the people in my station, if
they would only speak their thoughts. The
truth is, mademoiselle, no man should
marry who hasn't plenty of money. There
was my friend, Louis Meyer, at Bruxelles
he was getting on capitally-had engage
ments with the best parties and a Thousand
francs laid by, when he must needs marry
a young gouvernante-English, too-and
now he is far more unfortunate than I am,
I saw him when we were there, and he told
me he had been obliged to give up travel
ing and was then acting merely as valet de
place, picking up what he could here and
there with an occasional evenings wait
ing when there were festivities at the court.
And why? Because he has ten children,
eight Of them daughters; and one of the
eight a cripple-think of thatI the eldest
girl, just thirteen, he has apprenticed to a
hair-dresser; the next two will soon begin
the lace-making; but still there are five,
and n of them will never walk. Iuste
cielln
Yet he surely has some pleasure with
"Pleasure i"-with a shrug of the shout.
ders-"it isn't pleasure he is looking for,
but bread!"
.But his case is an unusual one."
"Ma fol! no. There was Maurice Hahn,
of Strasbourg, who had always been a very
prudent man, only rather given to foolish
sentiment-liked his room hung round with
bits of pictures, and never forgot mass.
He had saved so much that he hoped another
year to takes small inn on one of the boule
wards and begin business for. himself
What did he do but marry a widow he
found at the adler in Trieste, an Aus
trian, with two boys and not a sou; and all
because he fancied she looked like the ORES
den Madonna He has never come back; q
wiser man rented the Lion dor; some one
saw him lately among the walters at the
Adler and you may be certain that by
this time he wishes he had been content to
admire the widow at a distance, as we dc
the saints in the churches. The only one
of my set I ever knew better himself by
marrying was Henri Caller, from nv owl
village near Geneva. His. wife was from
Rouen, but hadkeptlodgings in London fol
twelve years. She was older than he, ant
anything but handsome; but she had laid
by a good bit of money, and she made
comfortable home for him between hi.
journeys. I speak the truth, mademoisslle
only the rich can afford to marry"
'Buty you wouldn't be without your daugh
ters?"
"No, perhaps not, now I nave them.
am attached to them, certainly, and shall
do what I can for them, but that is little.
am getting old. They must soon shift fo
themselves, for they have no relatives t.
depend on, and of course their lot will b.
hard. Boys might get on; but girls-bah
So you see it all comes to this, hat it woult
have been better for them and for me i
they had never been born"
just then Jean was summoned to the hall
and with his parting bow he said:
pardon my speaking SO much. If I ha,
been wiser I should have had g. differen
story to tell"
A profound melancholy came over me a
this revelationof life-this cold, calculating
view which sacrificed heart and soul to ma
terial interests; and I said to myself, is i
the normal effect of high civilization t.
create a class whose tastes, nay, who's
necessities can be satisfied only at the ex
pense of the deepest and purest instincts o
our nature?-and at intervals through tn
night 1 woke to hear above the bowling o
the wind and the beating of the rain, jean
s~atirical cry: Pleasure! 1t isn't pleasur,
he is looking for, but bread!"
Morning rose calm and fair. Mont Blan,
leaned white against the azure sky. TIL
swollen Arve flashed in the sun, and all tn,
world seemed made for joy. We were early
on our way, n Jean had relapsed into hi
with us did he allude to his children. biz
was faithful in his capacity, but untitled
for Eastern travel, and, two months later
wishing him we'll and sending some slight