The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-08-21
THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL WEDNESDAY AUGUST 81

when you get back, " put in Jeanne Marie.
And mademoiselle won't forget me.
II think have enough, but I'll borrow
your twenty-franc piece. As L say, mad
emoiselle must not travel by railway or
any public conveyance for fear of dis
covery. We shall have to trust to a lift
when we can and do the rest on foot. 1t
is fair time at st. Bertrand, and Bernard
the butcher at the Maison Blanche
(you know the hamlet league of, Jeanne
Marie p, will be starting between and 6
o'clock. He will carry us so far if his cart
is empty. Now, Jeanne Marie, you go
back; and next dav, if am inquired for,
say | have got job of work long way
off. / had finished working at the con-
vent and was paid, so no one will ask
about me there"
"Poor lambie May you get safe home,
darling" cried the good woman, embrac-
ing the fugitive again and again. Tx
cuse me, mademoiselle; l feel to you as a
mother might, and you have feeling
heart, / know. 'Iis little enough l can do
| for a fellow-creature in distress, but 20
francs are 20 francs, and many bright
| gold piece earned in my youth has gone
| to others, never more to return. The gown
and the stockings are brand new, dear;
never yet put on. But you won't forget.
"Adieu, Mere Michon, adieu," broke In
the young man impatiently. BE wary;
keep your mouth SHUT.
The girl whispered lnarticulate thanks
and blessings; then they parted; Jeanne
Marie trudged back to the village, the
| pair making the best OF their way through
| the pine wood.
| at is very lonely here, but there is
nothing to be afraid OF, the young man
said, land the dawn will soon break. Our
way will seem shorter when we can look
about u.s."
ooh, 1 fear nothing-with you" was
the passionately grateful reply. You arc
strong, you have a commanding voice,
you would never let me be forced back to
the convent"
Make your mind easy" he said lightly;
then, as if to beguile the tedium OF the
road, he whistled in perfect time one sim
| pie air after another. By and by the
sweet, bird-like notes ceased, and both
| plodded on without word.
They had enough to think about who
can tell ?" reflected Ellie. Dame Fortune
may have at last raped at the door OF the
founding, the nobody's son, the castaway.
/ have done my best to rise in the world,
but it is hard when you have no friends,
| no money, no name even to start with.
This rich man will surely befriend his
daughters delIverer. Who knows? Per-
haps he will help RE TO Algeria, where L
might make man of myself"
His companions thoughts were far less
| clear and connected. Life that is life in
deed was coming back slowly to her as
to a prisoner after long incarceration.
| One by one, dull senses reasserting them
selves long-stifed volitions makingthem-
selves felt within her breast. Eight years
| of the cloister had turned her into ilv-
ing, breathing automaton-a human ma
chine. Three hours of life suficed to re-
call the sympathetic creature-the woman.
Gradually the pure, pale light showed
the lofty pine tops; twitterings OF count
less birds lauds of the woodland, greeted
the dawn. Soon the sweet spring land
scape lay before them. fresh and bright as
in a picture. Emerging from the wood
they beheld emerald green Alp and pas
| turing herds; perched here and there a
| rustic chalet, the cheese-maker's home in
| summer. Below, scattered hamlet, amid
cornfelds and vineyards; and far away,
| crest upon crest of undulating forest-the
pine-clad peaks of the Jura.
III.
The sun was high when Etiennette de
| Grandial-such was the real name of Sis
| ter Pauline-awoke from long, heavy,
dreamless sleep. What had befallen her
| Where was she?
The nights adventure now came back.
| The flight from the convent; the tramp
| with her sturdy champion through the
pine wood; the butchers cart in which
she had lain down to rest. They must
have arrived long ago, for the sun now
shone due south and the drive was to have
lasted three hours only. She half rose
from the heap of fresh straw and glanced
around. The cart had been drawn under a
tree for GOODNESS and quiet at a little dis
lance from the other vehicles. Dozens
were there, while Immediately about the
inn all was hustle and excitement. Far
adown the street she saw above the house
tops an ancient cathedral tower, and close
under its walls dazzling, bewildering
scene-hags flying, glttering toy-booths
and tents, with streams of country folk
keeping holiday. Strains of merry music
and a joyous hum of voices reached her
ear. For a while she gazed blankly, a
weight depressing her heart. She
seemed 10 have burst the cerements of the
| grave, to have quilted wraiths and shadows
Tor the living, moving company. Should
she ever feel one of them again? The
presence of her companion broke the
SPELL That honest, kindly glance, that
hopeful, decided voice, humanized her,
made her feel herself being not only
sympathized with, but sympathetic.
81 have breakfasted long ago; you had
better come indoors and eat something,
too" he said; then we must be on the
move again"
He helped her to get down, not in the
least understanding her wistful looks.
Again and again she glanced toward the
fair, began to speak, and stopped short
"Have no fear" he whispered; "no one
is on your track here. This is the last
place that would be suspected"
II was not thinking of that" she said
faint blush overspreading her thin, sal
low cheeks, "but of yonder booths Might
| just walk through them-not to pur-
chase anything OF course-but merely to
look on? 1t is ten years now since l saw
a street or a shop window"
He smiled down pityingly, almost
loftily, this blue-bloused peasant, called
upon to champion the daughter of an
ancient house. The naivete of the speech
made him sensible of the difference be.
tween them. They were, perhaps, nearly
of an age, but while be was man, she
had remained in many things a child
| The part of protector banished the wider
difference of rank; dignity is an essential
characteristic Of the French peasant; but
although friendly and brotherly in his
solicitude, he was not in the least famil.