Los Angeles daily herald., 1886-11-25

fingers to it, sprang up and darted away,
leaving a melodious ripple OF girlish
laughter ringing IN the air after she had
gone For q long time otter she had
Gone Casaban stood as if in stupor.
He could not believe his senses and
thought at last that he must have been
dreaming. That naughty woman could
never so unbend! Then he hastened for
ward to the spot where she had knelt
and look cd down to see if she really had
traced characters in the sand. He read
his own name. "Casaban," and he stag
pered with resistless and Incompetent
sible dizziness. What strange woman
she was-more than ever marvel to
him. Still he felt that he must hold
some small place in her thoughts, else
she would not have written his name 10
the sand, Could it be that she loved
him? He dared not hope that. And
then-her kneeling and kissing her
hands to the moon; was that pure accl.
dent, or was it a part of her religion
He thought that so powerful and beau
tiful a creature must have some religion
unlike that of other mortals. Through.
out that night his head was full OF Lu-
cette and her strange caprice. A thor.
ough artist, he set about weaving q Gu.
rious labyrinth of capricious whims and
fancies, centering them all upon Lucette
and her varying moods, and so completely
were the two blended together that 1T
would be Difficult. to decide whether the
part she played in his dreams was more
al Tho that which
she played in his waking moments.
The next day they met in the vIne'
yard, and she was once more the cold,
naughty Woman of Bronze. Gazing
upon her face then it seemed impossible
to Casaban that she had ever smiled, or
that she ever could smile. Again and
again they met, her cold face never once
relaxing into the merest sembance OF
smile; and her voice was always ice IT.
self. At last, when he could restrain
himself no longer, he told her
that he had loved her ever since the
last vintage time, and that he had come
back to France to ask her to become his
wife.
He watched her all the while he was
speaking, but there was no sign In her
face to betoken that she was in any way
moved by what he had said.
"You do yourself an injustice, or else
you intend me one," she said, in that
same icy, pitiless voice, "and in either
case 1 can only refuse what you propose.
No man in your station should so Iar
humble and forget himself as to offer
honorable love to a PEASANTS daughter,
and there is at least one peasants daugh'
ter who will not suffer herself to be made
the toy and wanton of even a royal
lover. Go blck to your family, your
friends and your art, and leave me where
l am and what ana peasants daugh'
ter and grape stripper.
"No other woman shall ever be my
wife, swear" he exclaimed, impetuous'
ly. 81 offer you honorable marriage
and the first love of my heart. Family,
art, everything should be put aside for
you, were it necessary, but 1t is not. MY
family will receive my wife without crit,
icism, be she peasant or princess, ana
you will do my race credit. You Will De
the inspiration which will make me glo'
rify my art, if glorified by me it ever is.
Once more ask you to be my wife
''And once more 1 decline the honor
you offer me. l do not forget my lowll'
ness now, and neither will you forget it
in the days to come, when the mention
of it would CRATE harshly upon my ears.
Then, too, woman should love the
man whose name and hand she accepts.
"You care nothing for me, them
"How strangely you ask that ques'
tion. L do not understand you"
II saw you write my name in the SAND
one night, and it made me hope that
you at least sometimes thought OF me.
For moment her face softened and
her eyes glistened more kindly. But she
soon controlled herself and answered
him as coldly as ever.
ga woman writes the name OF the
mau she loves in her heart-not in the
treacherous and ever-shifting sand.
"You are willing, then, TO blight my
life and blast my hopes" he cried. "oh,
God! If | could only move you to com
passion"
She stopped and faced him.
''If you are really so much in earn
est" she said, slower yourself to my lev
el. Put off your gentleman's dress for
the peasants blouse. Toll in the yine-
yard as l do, and when the vintage is
done, if you are still faithful, will be
your wife. That will make me safe, and
no one can even then taunt the wife with
doing that which the husband has not
also DONE"
II will do IT," he said, kneeling at her
feet and kissing her hand as if she were
some great lady.
He kept his word. All through the
vintage he worked as if he had never
known any other sphere in life. Lucette
never gave him one smile or kiss through
all his long period Of probation, and the
brave Casaban never once murmured
against her coldness, or the tasks which
she had imposed.
One day they came to ber with dread
full news. A vicious horse had bitten
Casaban in the throat and be was dying.