The Penn's Grove record., 1886-03-27


have missed you'll What has gone wrong
mon qdrc0n?' she asked.
81 could stand my precious cousins
no longer, and we have parted"
You are not like yourself some.
how" she said, looking at me keenly.
Gam 1 notP Many things have hap
pened, and 1 have much to think of.
At the end of the week Pm going
away"
saw that Madeleine gave a little
start.
81 am going to Paris to be educated
as an engineer. Monsieur BOunard is
sending me-"
"Ah," Madeleine said eagerly, che
thinks you cleverl l knew you would
do great things. am so glad you are
going"
Hooked at her. 1 thought, "She is
glad l should GO she does not care:
she will have the count to console her. -
Eyes, l am glad to work,"I said
graVely; but 1 an sorry to leave you
both"
looked at Madeleine. She said moth
ing. Hortense spoke again.
THE cottage will be dull without
you"
We talked-all three-a little longer,
Madeleine telling me how the frost had
blighted some of our favOrite plants.
After a while Hortense grew drowsy;
and we crept silently into the kitchen.
Then 1 drew my char near M~adeleine's
and we sat close to the fire, and in the
dim light l told her of my invention;
which she was to keep secret, and hoG
l hoped some day to be rich.
Madeleine" I said quickly, "you
can paint flowers beautifully, and [
know that in Paris women make a great
deal Of money by painting fans for the
rich ladies. Why should not you and
Hortense come to Paris and live there2
l should be near you, and you would
have more money-could give Hor-
tense more comforts. And ~ l added
timidly-''I would help; / would work
for both of you, if you would Let me.
"Ah. you are goodl" she said gently;
and there were tears in her eyes. Then
she vas silent.
"Well," L said, almost harshly, twill
you do this2"
81 don't think l could Antonio, for
several reasons"
"Tell me some; tell me all"
II think Hortense would pine in a
town, away from our little garden, and
l don't know If 1 could earn enough;
it would be so uncertain, and [ should
not like to be a burden to you. though
you are as a brother to me. l can al
ways work for Mademoiselle Adele.
and 1 should not wish to leave her"
She had kept the most important rea-
son until the last. Always the Chateau
and It's hated ownersl"
''You accept gifts from mobiles, not
from mel" 1 said angrily. "You pre-,
fer Mademoiselle Adele and the young
Count to your equalsl No good can ever
come of 1t; they'll forget you-abandon
you when it suits them"
"You are unkindI" she said flushing.
"They are very good to me-so are YOU.
1 don't prefer them; but 1 think it best
to stay here"
1 was calm again in a minute; but
the thought of the count did not leave
me.
81 suppose it is the last time we shall
be here together for some time;" | said
'If you should ever want me, Made
leine, you can learn where | am from
Monsieur Bounard-he would send a
letter to me. One can never tell what
may happen. Don't trust your friends
at the Chateau too much; they are not
like US; they don't understand US. Some
day you'll find they DON'T"
She did not answer; she paced by my
side with bent head. L could not stay
there; l was losing my self-possession.
| wanted to take her in my arms and
tell her how much 1 loved her, but
what was the good of itp
Goodbye, Madeleine, " l said quick
ly, roughly. Remember, if you want
me, Ill always do anything for you-
anything in the world; but-but you
don't want me. are not likely to want
me-"
A year passed. People did not write
often in those days. l had one letter
from Madeleine, and l went back to
Lanon once for a day. 1 thought Mad
eleine changed. The old count was
dead, and / heard-for l asked about
the young count had been
seen at the cottage, and that the viii
looked askance at Madeleine. l
could not stay at Lanon; the life of my
manhood was in Paris now.
Later on we were like wild beasts in
Paris and elsewhere; but we were goad-
ed enough, Heaven knowsl l was hand
in glove with many of the leaders, feel
ing that we were all heroes and that
the future of France depended on us.
1t was in August, when Paris wa
beginning to seethe in an appalling
manner, that, coming home one even
to my poor room, l found Made
leine Constant. Ihad thought her safe
in the country, had felt glad she was
there, every time l lad seen the women
Of Paris transformed into fiends, though
1 had pitied them, / shrank from the
sight, and reioiced that Madeleine was
them, and in safety. Now she
was In their midstl / was so shocked to
see her that l did not feel glad to look
on her sweet face; and she, poor child,
thought me SO stern that she burst into
tears, When l had quieted her, she told
me all. Hortense was dead, the vii
was very disturbed, and people
rude and unkind to her.
You told me whenever L wanted
you 1 was to say 50" she SAID timidly.
YES" l answered. land Pm ready
10 help you; but you don't know that
Paris is quite an unfit place for you to
i've in now, that 1t grows worse and
every day. l must take you to !
iome quiet village where you will be
''Oh, don't send me away l have no
me belonging to me; let me stay here
md work"
"There are little work and little
in Paris; but l won't forsake you
How warm it was that August even
ngl And the noises in the streets were
Jminous enough to those who under
stood them, but Madeleine talked Of old
and told me how poor Hortense
lied; and it felt like youth and happl-
less TO see her face.
By-and.b by l thought Of old Madame
rherese, and resolved to take Made
cine to her. She would be safe there
present. The old woman was kind
y, had Just lost her daughter, and
some one to take her place,
Events lt in sometimes in a strange