Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-02-25


 help it-when look at those windows in the cathedral, or at those beautiful twisted little spires that are all over our Hotel de Vile, I want to know vino rhe men were that made them-what they did and thought-how they looked and spoke-how they learned to shape stone into leaves and grasses like that how they could image all those angel faces on the glass. When go alone in the quite early morning or at night when it is still-sometimes in winter I have to stay till it is dark over the lace-I hear their feet como after me and they whisper to me close, Look what beautiful things we have done, Bebee. and you all forget quite We did what never will die, but our names are as dead as the stones And then am so sorry for them and ashamed. And I want to know more Can you tell me?'
 He looked at her earnestly; her eyes were shining, her cheeks were warm, her little mouth was tremulous with eagerness.
 Did any one ever speak to you in that wayF' he asked her.
 "No," sho answered him. "It comes into my head of itself. Sometimes I think the cathedral angels put it there For the angels hust be tired, you know; always point ing to God and always seeing men turn away. I used to tell Antoine sometimes But he used to shake his head and say that it was no use thinking; most likely St. Gudule and St. Michael had set the church down in the night all ready made, why noti God made the trees and they were moro wonderful, he thought, for his part And so perhaps, they are, but that is no answer And do want to know 1 want some one who will tell me-and if you come out of Rubes' country as l think, no doubt you know everything, or remember it"
 He smiled.
 ''The free pass to Rubes' country lies in books, pretty ono. Shall give you somes- nay, lend them, 1 mean since giving you arc too willful to hear of without offense. You can read, you saidF'
 Bebees eyes glowed as they lifted them selves to his. & '-
 II can read-not very fast, but that would come with doing it more and more, think, just as spinning does-one knots the thread and breaks it about million times before one learns to spin as fine as cobwebs have read the stories of St. Anne, and of St. Catherine, and of St Luven fifty times, but they are all the books that Father Francis has and no one else has any among us"
 "Very we'll You shall havo books of mine, easy ones first; and then those that are more serious. But what time will you havea You do so much; you are like little golden bee"
 Bebee laughed happily.
 "Ohl give mo the books and will find the time It is light so early now. That gives one so many hours In winter one has so few one must lie in bed, because to buy a candle you know one cannot afford except of course taper now and then, as one's duty is, for our Lady or for the dead. And you will really, really, lend me booksr
 "Really-I will. Yes I will bring you one to the Grande Place tomorrow, or meet you on your road there with it. Do you know what poetry is Bebee'"
 "No"
 But your flowers talk to your
 "Ah! always. But then no ono else hears them ever but me; and so no one else ever believes"
 "Well-poets arc folks who hear the flow CTS talk you do, and the trees, and the seas, and the beasts, and even the stones; but no one else ever hears these things, and so, when the poets write them out, the rest of the world say, That is very fine, no doubt, but only good for dreamers; it will bake no bread will give you some poetry-for think you care moro about dreams than about bread"
 ''I do not know," said Bebee; and she did not know, for her dreams. like her youth, and her innocence, and her simplicity, and her strength. were all unconscious of themselves, as such things must be to be pure and true at alL
 Bebee had grown up straight, and clean, and fragrant, and joyous as ono of her own carnations, but she knew herself no moro than the carnation knows it's color and its root
 ''No. you do not know," said ho, with sort of pity; and thought within himself was it worth while to let her know?
 If she did not know, these vague aspira- tions and imaginations would drop off from her with the years of her early youth, as tho lime flowers drop downward with the sum mer heats. She would forget them They would finger q little in her head, and perhaps always wake at some sunset hour or some an gelus chime, but not to trouble her. Only to make her cradle song little sadder and softer than most women's was. Unfed, they would sink away and bear no blossom
 She would grow into simple, hardy, hard working, God fearing Flemish woman like the rest. She would marry, no doubt, some time, and rear her children honestly and well !; and sit in the market stall every day, and spin and sew, and dig and wash, and sweep, and bravo bad weather, and be content with poor food to the end of her harmless and laborious days-poor little Bebee
 He saw her so clearly as she would be-if he let her alone.
 A little taller, little broader, a little browner, less sweet of voice, less soft of skin, less flower like in face; having learned to think only as her neighbors thought, of price of wood and cost of bread; laboring cheerily but hardly from daybreak to nightfan to fill hungry mouths; forgetting all things except the little curly heads clustered round her soup pot and the year-old lips sucking at her breasts.
 A blameless life, an eventless life, life as clear as the dewdrop, and colorless; life opening, passing, ending in the little green wooded lane, by the bit of water where tho swans made their nests under the willows; a life like the life of millions; little purer, a little brighter, little more tender, perhaps, than those lives usually are, but otherwise as like them as one ear of barley is like another as it rises from the soil, and blows in the wind, and turns brown in the strong summer sun, and then goes down to the sod again under the sickle.
 He saw her just as she would be-if he let her alone.
 But should he leave her alonea
 He cared nothing, only her eyes had such c pretty, frank, innocent look like & birds in them, and she had been so brave and bold Al k ~sII A-y yg- .