The weekly messenger. [volume] (St. Martinsville [i.e. St. Martinville] La.) 1886-1948, 1889-01-19

self his thoughts always 11ew toward her.
One morning he could endure it no
longer. 1t was impossible to live in that
way. He went to find the Major, who
had always shown an interest in him,
and begged him tc see the Colonel, and
without exactly putting the question,
try to find what sort of an answer would
be made to an offer of marriage. He
passed that day sitting by the Swiss
fountain, watching the carp jump in the
sunshine, regretting already the step he
had taken, and seeing the future black
before him. That evening the Major
took him aside in the court of the caserne,
and said to him briefly:
al have seen the Colonel. He was
very kind, and this is his reply: your
protege has not q sou. My daughter
has no DOVER 1t would be marrying
hunger and thirst He is right. Do
not think any more of the girl, and if
you feel very bad about it console your
self with philosophy"
The lieutenant thanked him, but could
not console himself in that way, and as
they were demanding volunteers for
Tonquin he offered his services.
The following week he embarked at
Brest, and while he, with heavy heart,
was sai!in- away over the rolling waves
Of Id ri
thOughtless and joyous, continued to
dance in the light and among the flowers
to the sweet sound of the instruments of
music.
Two years had passed. The General
was still receiving at his fine hotel, but
the charming girl who used to turn all
the heads at these brilliant military
soirees did not appear any more. The
Colonel of the 123d had died suddenly,
just upon the eve of obtaining his pro-
motion. A lonely and monotonous ex-
istence succeeded to the gay and brilliant
lite of the two women. All the obsc-
quious officers who used to tiutter around
so CALAMITY had disappeared with the
pleasure and the gayety. The new
Colonel OF the regiment had also wife
and a daughter. For them, the powers
of the present, were all the attentions,
all the coquetry. To the s0vereigns of
Yesterday the indifferent salute and the
hsSty recognition in the street. On these
occasions the orphan and the widow
exchanged a bitter smile and slowly
pursued their way. They used to walk
in the park, to en- joy the warmth of the
beautiful Autumn days, when the sun
gilded the marble OF the statues and
yeliowed the leaves of the great chest
nuts. They would seat themselves, al
black in their mourning dresses, and
while listening to the military music,
seem to find shred of their former
happiness. 1t seemed TO them that
nothing was changed in their existence,
and that the voice of the Colonel ought
to sound, rough and sonorous, behind
them, saying:
"Bonjour mesdames, it is the 124th
that gives the concert to-day. Their
fanfare is not as good as ours"
But the cries of the children playing
in the sand was all the sound that was
heard. And the mother, with a sigh,
tried to read her paper through her
! glasses, bedimmed with tears, while the
daughter furtively threw melancholy
glance at her old partners OF the dance,
who did not recognize her any more.
She was now approaching twenty-five,
and her beauty, refined by sorrow, had
most penetrating charm. One would
have said she was like flower that a
storm had refreshed and purified. She
had lost the ro!licklng vivacity OF former
days and now, dgn.iied and sweet, she
seemed to be doing penance for her joy
Gus past.
One day at the hour of music, when
the officers were promenadIng, smOk ing
and laughing, she observed new face
among those she was accustomed to see
every afternoon. She recalled in an In
slant the balls OF the General, and her
timid lover, buried in a corner devouriug
her with his eyes. She said to her
mother, 80 mamma, see there, the Lieu
tenantr'
He had perceived her also, for he had
turned pale, and leaving his comrades,