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

L saw no more OF her than ever. poor child. for
she had no one now to take her into the
country on Sunday afternoon, and her Sum-
DAYS were mostly spent in Shis room. She was
very good to me. She used to read to me and
cheer me with her company. though it was too
plain that an the happiness had gone out of
her cwn life. She lived in this house till the
dark days OF the Commune, and in all that time
she had no new sweetheart. no friend except
an OLD woman. She was a splendid worker
industrious, economical as good as gold. At
ter the troubles began her brother took her
away to London with him at an hours warning.
He had been entangled with the Communists
and he was in no small risk of being sent to
New Caledonia. From that time to this have
heard nothing of her or of him. / think if she
had prospered and been happy Toinette would
have written to me, so fear that all has not
gone well with her."
IF you could only remember that young
mans name" said Florestan.
His name-yes l remember. His name
was Claude-Claude Morel."
Memory which had failed Mlle Laforit when
she tried to recall the sisters surname, re-
called the name of the brother without an
effort.
Il thank Won most cordially, Mademoiselle,
for the amiability with which you have an
swered all my questions" began Florestan,
when the old woman interrupted him
DO not suppose it has been irksome to me
to talk to you" she said, with her sly smile;
my life is very lonely and / have few intelli-
gent people to talk to, and daresay that you
know that women like to talk, especially old
women. You have let me talk about myself
and my poor little history. 1t is always pleas
ure to tell ones own history"
"If you have pleased yourself dear Made
moiselle, you have done me a service all the
same, and should like to present you with
some little souvenir of our conversation
cannot venture to offer you money"
Pray do not" said the little old lady, draw
ing up her head with a certain hauteur which
did not ill become her; Il am very poor and
live upon charity, but it is a kinsmans charity.
to think myself lady, though my father was
shoemaker"
believe me, l know how to honor good
birth and refined manners wherever meet
with them" replied Florestan, deferentially,
Il want, therefore, to offer you some little
gift-something for this room in which you
spend your days. for instance-which you may
receive without the slightest derogation OF dig
nifty"
"Ab, Monsieur, do not laugh at an old wo-
man-more than old enough to be your grand
mother. 1t seems a satire to talk of my dig
nifty Iii this one poor room, which serves ME
for bed room, parlor and Kitchen"
"Ah, but dignity does not depend on sur
roundings, except SO far as they belong to
character. The exquisite neatness of this room
would alone tell ME l was in the apartment OF
lady,"
He looked around the poor little room so
scantily furnished. so old and faded as to wood
work and wall paper, yet with that look of
airlness and perfect purity which some women
know how to give to the poorest room. One
thing only seemed to him out of harmony and
seeing that Mile. Lafont liked to talk to him
and was quite ready to give him her confidence
he ventured to express his wonder at the style
of art which she had chosen to adorn her
walls.
''You wonder that should surround myself
N hlnndlhal fSha oil III .
image of the guillotne which made my poor
father an orphan in the morning of his life
with the picture of the fall OF that fortress with
whose ancient towers there fell the old arstoc-
racy OF France, never to rise again with tine old
power or the old influence on the fate of men.
1t Is strange taste, perhaps, but like to look
at the dreadful records of that revolution
which robbed me of fortune and station before
l was born and which has given me so little exc
cept loud talk and empty promises in place of
all 1t took away l like to brood over the dull
days that overshadowed Paris before this
century and were born. 1t is a morbid fancy,
perhaps, but it pleases me. The history Of my
country is written in blood and like to read
that history"
''Do the pictures never spoil your sleep or
mix themselves with your dreams?" asked
Florestan.
Very seldom. have this under my pillow,
and have her blessed image to reassure me-"
She touched her rosary with her long lean
fingers and glanced to the wall beside her bed,
where a plaster statuette of the Virgin Mother
stood on a little Swiss bracket above a benz
tier"
What shall bring you to decorate your
room, Mademoselle?" inquired Florestan,
smiling at the little old lady, SO serene in the
simplicity of her faith.
''Ah, Monsieur, you tempt me to impose on
your generosity"
And then. almost reluctantly. the ancient
splnster confessed that there was one thing
for which she had been longing for the last
thirty years, ever since she had begun to feel
age creeping on with increasing sensitiveness
to cold. She had longed for a duvet, little
cider down quilt to put upon her bed. Every
French woman OF any substance had her duvet,
but how was she, whose little pension Just
served for food and fire, to save money enough
to buy herself duvet 1t was not possible.
She had been trying for thirty years. but when
by much hard pinching and scraping there
were few francs Ill the tire lire, there came
sickness and the tire lire had to be broken to
pay for medicine and wine and soup.
You shall have the duvet this evening. You
shall sleep under it tonight" cried Florestan
enchanted at being able to crafty long
cherished wish of this patient creatures.
He thought of the lonely monotony Of her
life with inexpressible sadness. Could life in
that gloomy old fortress which once stood not
Tar on from this gloomy street have been very
much more dismal than life in this one small
room over the cobblers shop. Such a street,
not one pleasing object, not one spot OF bright
ness or color to be seen from the window,
strain ones eyes and risk ones neck AS one
might Nothing but the shabby dull old
houses over the way and the gray and shabby
dull old street right and left of the window
Florestan not only promised the elder down,
but he promised also to so and see Mlle La
font again. and then, after gently touching the
frail wasted hand he took up his hat and
bowed himself out of the room. His first visit
was to the Bon Marche, where he chose AN
elder down quilt of the very best quality, CO v
cred with rose-colored silk 1t was a relief to
him TO think that there would be one little bit
OF vivid color i'll that long gray street, though
no body would see it except the little old lady
"When the warm weather begins will send
her some pots of stocks and wall flowers from
the flower market and beg her to put them on
her window SILL as an act of Christian charity"
he said to himself 1T is too dreadful to think
OF people living in such a street, while within
half-an-hour's walk there are the laughing gar
dens and the white villas. the gilded gates and
glass porches. the bright-colored folly and
frivolity of the Avenue de rImperatrice, or
whatever these republicans call the place. I
only remember the old names that knew when
/ was boy"
The elder down dispatched to the old lady.
Florestan's next visit was to man he had
sometimes had occasion to employ while he
was secretary OF legation, a man who may be
loosely described a private detective. To
this person he impaired his desire to find out
the whereabouts and occupation, surroundings
and character OF a certain Claude Morel, en-
ployed before the Commune as a chemists as
sistant- Subsequent mode and manner of life
unknown.