Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-03-01

the house in which he had worked, and il was
in this house that I, his only surviving OF
| spring. was born"
How came it that you never married, Made
| moiselle?'"asked Florestan after he had ex-
pressed all due interest in her narrative.
Those who asked me to marry we're people
with whom / could not have been happy. IL
may be that something OF the pride Of race
which had died out of my fathers mind was
revived in me. / always felt it hard thing
that my father. Eugene Lafont--de Lafont, as
/ saw the name written in old documents
should be shoemaker. This street was not
so shabby in my youth as it has been for the
last forty years, but 1t was not a very grand
neighborhood even then, and I used to walk in
the fashionable quarters of Paris of Sunday
afternoon with my father and used to feel that
fate had used us hardly. l saw the Marauise
de Lafont drive by in her carriage and my
father told me that l was of the same race
He made joke of the difference between u.s.
but 1t cut me to- the quick that we who were Of
the same family should be so wide apart NV
father and mother both died before l was
thirty and was left quite alone in the world.
They had just been able to make living but
they had saved only as much served to nav
their debts and to bury them. The house and
the business passed into other hands, but
stayed here, like piece of old furniture 1
have been lodger in this room in which you
find me ever since my fathers death. l
was able to earn my own living when l
was eighteen by fine needle work and 1
worked at the same business for fifty
years. l was seventy years of age before ever
needed help from any one; but'at that age my
sight began to fall and it would have gone hard
with me If the Marquise dc Lafont had not
CHANGED to hear about me from the mistress of
the large lingerie shop for which had worked
all those years The marquise took pity upon
my helpiessness and pleaded my cause with
the marquis. who came to see me and looked
through my papers and made out my fathers
relationship TO the great family. Convinced of
granted n small DpnSiOp
house steward has paid me ever since. His
generosity has made my declining days peace
ful and free from care. l rise from my bed
every morning with the assurance that my daily
bread is provided for me, and / know that /
shall not lie in paupers grave, for my noble
ElnSman has promised me niche in the family
vault at Pere Lachaise. pray for the marquis
and his family every day and hope that the
PRAYERS of grateful old woman may be heard
by the Blessed Virgin, whose divine pity has
succored my loneliness"
But YOU have not been altogether lonely. /
hope. Mademoiselle? You have found SYM
pathy and friendship even within these walls"
said FIorestan, gently leading up to the ques-
ton which he wanted to ask.
les. L have had friends here-friends who
came and went. 1t has often seemed to me
that this house is like caravansary in an
Arabian desert. Ny friends were so quickly
gone like travellers who stay only for a single
night. Some have been very good to me. l
would have loved them if l had dared. You
want to ask me about ledger in this house,
Madame Manant told me. Was the person
here IN the long past?"
Twelve years ago."
'Ah, that is not the past. The friends re-
member best are those of fifty years ago. Who
was the person you are curious about?"
"A mlllner's apprentice. called Toinette.
Go not know her surname"
a mllliners apprentice" repeated the old
woman musingly. There have been many
such in the attics. Bright girl-faces, sad girl
faces, have passed by my door through the
long years and have faded and vanished like
my own dreams. Toinette. Toinette Toinette"
she repeated, still musing.
Florestan waited patiently while the slow
memories of old age wandered III the dim cor
rldors Of the past. Presently the old woman
took up her missal and began to look through
the well-thumbed pages. Between the leaves
there were many OF those little pictures of
Madonna, saints and martyrs which Romanists
love, and every one Of those little engravngs,
with their lace borders, was a souvenir OF some
vanished friend, and on every one of them
there was some scrap of writing.
She looked through them slowly and care
fully and at last came to a little picture of
St. Stephen, on the back of which was written:
To Mile. Lafont, from her loving Toinette.
st. Stephens Day, 1868"
There Is the name, at least" said the
spinster. "Toinette! Yes; remember. She
was a sweet girl, and l was very fond of her,
and think helped her to escape a great dam
ger. But she vanished like tie rest of my
friends. They were all shadows. There is only
this lonely room and that bird cage. with its
changing occupants, that remain. / try to
cheat myself with the fancy that the bird is al
ways the same, but even he changes l put
away my poor little dead canary and buy my
self a new one and call him by the old name,
but 1t Is long before he gets to know me as the
dead one did. All, monsieur, that is what makes
life hard-that 1t should be so short for some
and so long for others"
Yes, mademoselle, that is a misery we all
feel But 1t Is some consolation to have lived
a blameless life, as you nave"
''Limpets live blameless lives" retorted
Mile. Lafont with q touch of scorn. There
is no more merit in my blameless life than in
lmPets. But you were asking about Toin-
cite"
Yes. Please tell me all you can. Her sur
name in the first place."
Impossible. have quite forgotten it."
What was the danger from which you helped
to save her?"
Her passionate love of man who was her
superior In statiOn-an Englshman."
You DO not think that any evil came out of
that loye?"
1T almost broke the girls heart no more
evil than that. l believe the man meant hon
orably, though he trihed with a girl who
adOred him. He did not mean to betrav her.
lie was touched by her romantic love for him.
He gave her some half dozen jaunts to the
villages near Paris; little tete-a-tete water
pdTties. WHICH are not always so harmless In
this case. He respected her innocence and her
frlendlessness, and she was able to respect her
self. was her only cOnfidante and | warned
her OF the peril which she ran when she gave
her heart to a man who was very unlikely to
marry her. She had not long come from the
SOUTH and she had only one relation in Paris
q brother, who did not often come near her."
DO you know how the brother earned his
living?"
'He was an assistant in a chemists shop"
"Dld you ever see him?''
Two or three times. Toinette brought HIM
into this room to show him off and to let him
talh to me. She was proud of him. because he
was cleverer than most young men in his sta
ton: but don't think he was as kind to her as
he might have been, seeing that she was a
stranger and alone In this great city,"
Did he know of her love affair?'
Not at the beginning. but afterward at my
advice, she told him all about her Sunday iaunts
with the Englishman. He made a great fuss
and swore that the Englishman should marry
her, and although my poor Toinette entreated
him not to interfere he evidently did So for a
Few days after their conversation the girl re-
ceived letter from her admirer bidding her
farewell and lnclosing an English bank note for
two thousand I've hundred francs. She brought
the letter to me in her despair. She was broken
hearted, poor child. She told me she had
never hoped TO marry him. She only wanted
TO DC with him for little while now and then
as she had been at Bougival or Asnieres-just
to see him and to hear his voice; Just to know
that he cared for her. though she could never
be more to him than his humble little friend
And Eow he babe her farewell forever The
IAFf Tor ur0 ind lott A.