River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1886-11-25
PAULINE MAURIEH.


Il wonder what my neighbor over
head has been doing with himself all
dayP | have not heard him once. That
young man Is Il mystery. He is a
sculptor, my landlady says-sculpture
she calls it. Yet for the year / have
been in these apartments I've never
set eyes on him. He glides in and out
like ghost He eXcItes my curiosity
have a good mind, the next time /
hear him pass, to open the door and see
what he is ike. -
The thought elected a pleasant, mu-
steal laugh from the speaker. as, hav-
ing arranged her tea-table, she sat
down 10 the meal alone.
Pauline Maurier was over thirty, and
without relation in the world. She
had inherited from her parents an in
come of fifty pounds, upon which. by
the aid of Photographic coloring, she
managed to live comfortably.
To have called her plain would have
been as far wrong as to have called her
handsome; yet there were occasions
when the expression, the intellectual
power of tie face and the light. in the
large, dark, kindly gray eyes would
have made many term her the latter.
Few women have reached over thirty
without experiencing Ia graHde paisioR.
If Pauline Maurier had, its being re.
sultless had not spoiled her temper
She was content and cheerful. She
may perhaps. have bravely crushed it
out. for energy was her characteristic.
AIR she often reflected, III / had
only been q man, what things | might
have done? What good is energy
when Que has but oneself to work for?'
So her energy remained dormant for
want of occasion.
The tea made. Pauline ranged the
photographs she had brought home he
fore her, ard began as she drank her
tea, to consider their style and express
sion. In her heart Pauline was an
artist and lover of art.
A perfect silence reigned in the
pleasant sitting-room save for the
cheerful hum of the kettle, when sud
denly there sounded through the apart
ment a faint prolonged groan.
What ever was that!" calculated
Pauline Maurier, nearly dropping her
cup and sitting erect.
Had it been fancy? No. Listening
intently, she heard it again and agai 4
as of one in mortal suffering as of one
i'll unto death and it came from the
room Above.
"Why it's my neighbour cried
Pauline, starting to her feet.
Then she stood still. The first
natural impulse of her good heart was
to fly to his help-buJ English sensI-
tiyeness interfored He was a perfect
strangeL She hesitatcd.
Its no uso! she eXclaims, as a
fainter moan reached her. ''Our land
/ lady is put. | am the only one in the
I house. | mast 90, or the poor fellow
may die for want of help. "
Quitting the rooms she sped lightly
to the second landing and knocked.
There vas no response except moan
fainter, fainter yet.
/ Pauline Maurier was too excited TO
stand on etiquette. She tried the
| handle. it yielded, and she opened the
door-tnly to recoil. half sulfOcated by
the odoS that rushed forth.
/ The whole was instantly plain to he.
/ In a moment she had darted in, flung
wide the window, aud Selling water
/ Jug, dashed it over a small brazier from
which the heavy, sitting fumes arose.
4 This done, she hurrleGly looked
around: The apartment was a studio,
Door i'm the extreme but rendered rich
bv beautiful statuettes, finished and
half completed, while some were still
only conceptions in the rough clay.
The wretched room was refined by
the poetry of genius; but where was
the geniIs. The sculptor-PaUline
Mauriers mysterious neighbor? As
the mental question occurred her eyes
rested on low couch covered by q
tattered pstchwork cOverlct. On it
was extended a man.
The intruder started, hesi,atcd one
second. then approaching. raised the
lamp she had brought above Fer head.
So as TO throw the light fully on the
figure. 1t was that of Young man.
tall, slightly and gracefully made.
with q handsome, intellectual refined
countenance- ahi how terribly re-
fined by nature. but also by trouble
and want: the white checks were
hollow, thu small lips, contracted, the
delicate cyelids $50 transparent that
the pupils could be family discerncd
beneath; while the long hair, of silky
brown, fel weak and lank from the
white forehead.
1t was not 1T these, that Pauline
Maurcr looked. but at the agony. the
suffering on the face-the terrible. al
most deatbile grip of the white slen-
der fingers.
Was il death?
Trembling. she placed her hand on
the pulse. No; there was hutter.
Then there was hope.
huplQlN SuG Ial>fu NM tiidt INC at
from the window might blow upon his
face; afterwards fetching the water she
bathed his temples.
Ten minutes. aud with low culver
ing sigh, the sculptor's eyes--large
blue aud brilliant from the fever of
hunger-opened. and fixed themselves
upon his preserver.
Where am I?" he murmured.
who are youP'
Then recollection flashed back. Ut
tering a stihed cry he buried his face
in bis hands and exclaimei L.
"Oh! why have you recalled me to
life? A life as unfortunate as 1t Is use
lest
Useless! The man who, capable of
executing such beautiful works rs
those and Pauline Maurier TO the
stattuettes-"u such terms, and de-
stroys the soul heaven has given, COM
mits double sin against mis- creator.
The sculptor looked mp in surprise.
The tones were stern, reproachful.
though the voice was singularly sym
pathetic and sweet
"Who are you. maIam?" he again
asked.
Your fellow-lodger, answered
Pauline Maurier.
"Ah! the lady who has the room be-
Meath this. he remarked; then added.
with bitter smile. Il thank you. for
YOUR words are fattering to sculp-
sorsa o,~ L.. v-o71 are mistaken in