Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-08-08

| Wuen PIeSebtiys tnet mBus 49, w.
myself unpoticed, and shs pcintedly ad-
dressed me, and responded with aques.
ton which elected some stories OF po-
litical personsgss, historical only 70 the,
whom she had known, how delightful the
stories were. The wordsso simple and
graphic, unkind never. but seasoned
with Just that little point de malice
which gives flavor. Of every one she
had something good to soy. But it
vas bonnie ame," was her favorite
verdict. And once when she repeated
the words, and I With . smile replied
~ think, Madame, that you must
have . very bonnie anne to see so
much good In ALL" she said, rustlipg
the Figaro . little: ~ do not
think, Msdemoiselle, that there are
many bad souls lat least have found
good in even the least good. Tencz,
when you came 10 my maid was reading
the Figaro to me, I've read it every day
from beginning to end,) and something
in il stirred up old memories, and re-
minded me Of . story Of my young
days which is q case to the point. Even
| q murderer il not always wholly bad.
II you have time would tell you the
story. The remembrance weighs upon
me to-day, and ii nigh. be relief to
speak Of it."
We eagerly pressed her to do so, and
she began
"You must have heard Of him, |
think it was Q celebrated affair. |
lived then in the Rue de Lille" (here
she waved her hand toward the centre
Of the big city, in the house which
still goes by our name. i was young
at the time Of my story, and my hus-
band was away with his regiment, and
the children and | had, besides the
women, only one man to wait on US.
This man, Jean, was q faithful but
slow little Breton, who wore velvet
Jacket and silver buttons aud his long
hair dewn his shoulders, IS our country
people do.
1.-THE maids were only two of them
from Brittany-the cook and the
children's nurse. While my husband
was away did not enter much into
society, but our family was large, and
80 it happened that, although | refused
invitations from the outside world, yet
| l dined out sometimes, and Oftener still
had little family dinners at my hotel.
1t was very GENTLE, my house, Made
moiselle forgive an old woman's pride
in the long past it is all gone now, all
gone" she repeated with bright
smile, but something glistened in her
eyee. at had been furnished and pre-
pared for me when / married, and
was very pretty in the fashion of the
time. Different from that of to-day,
you know; furniture with visible legs,
chairs not hard to get out Of once you
Eat down. The rooms were hung with
pale silks one was amber satin, the
furniture ebony-that was my own
and specially | prided myself on all my
reception-rooms being arranged SO that
one could talk in them. Talking was
another fashion which ] hear is going
out. People meet nowadays, | am tod.
only and always to eat. Alb, well
eating is good in its way, but think
should miss the conversation
Of ny youth. Not but that we ate,
too, and was proud Of my cook and
Of TIE compliments ] received upon her
skill. She was short, sturdy peasant,
like q strong pony in figure, and though
] saw much less of her than Of some Of
the naidservants, still took special
interest in her, because she came from
. village close to my own country home,
and had known something of her
family all my life. She had sad kind
Of manner, not like the gay, ready
Psrisians; but knew the Bretons
were rather heavy, and | paid no spe-
cial attention to it until one day when
l went to order dinner found her in
tears.
"sWhy, Victorine, ma file, said
(she was old enough to be my mother,
but it is our way you know what ails
your
"Ah, Madame she said, it is no.
thing
"But l insisted, and at last she
sobbed out:
"'It is my son, Madame, my son.
"sYour SON. said why, is he not
always abroad with his regiment
YES. Madame, away, always
away, but it is a long time. Je men
nuie.'
"Well, l sat down and made her sit
by me, and i talked TO her and patted
her hand and comforted her as well as
could. promising her that when Pierre
came home We would make fete to
celebrate his return. And then !
glanced at the clock, and saw had no
time left for ordering dinner, so l
jumped up, with the words
49, must run away, Victori1e. l
have promised my sister-in-law to meet
her, and cannot stay to order dinner,
so / leave it to you to make us good
one. There will be four to dine, and
mind you have something nice to keep
up your reputation with ces Aessie'rs.
My brother and my brother.in-law are
coming, and even the best Of mea, you
know, Victorine, are little goarmand.'
"She smiled, as had intended to
make her do, by my little compliment
and joke, and l ran away, thinking
what blessed cure work was, for /
knew her mind would be too busy with
the dinner for her to fret, and that sh,
would pray and cook alternately, or
probably do both together.
"The dinner, Mesdames, was SO per-
feet that still remember it Such Ju-
lienne soup, such outlets, such frican-
deau; all very simple, naturally, but
different, for instance, from the dinner
to be served us hore to-day. My maid
has just brought me the bill OF fare.
Potage au yermicellc au gras; bout
entoure legumes. All, we'll, ! do not
want to complain. 1t is better than I
deserve, and, as Monsieur rAbbe often
reminds us, ono must do penance
either bore or hereafter, and the more
bore accepted tho less hereafter"
| While saying this the little lady
laughed softly, as if pleased, and i,
having heard from Madame Brute Of
her ssiEdenying aims and cheerful gene.
rosity, felt the charm Of that bonnie
\ k...aA.,r u.h,oh Ia H. 81