Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1890-10-24

illumined his thin face with their bril-
liant flashes. Close against his breast he
pressed violin, his dearest treasure.
at sight of this stranger the little
Clairette began to cry and sob convul-
sively. Her cousin looked timidly at the
fair-haired and gaily dressed little crea-
ture for minute, then raising his instru-
ment, said softly,
s'Listen, the violin will sing to you
do not cry"
And beneath his young fingers the ar
lists bow moved wondrously, the sound
of a gay yet tender air burst forth, and
the improvisation like caress suddenly
soothed the child's fears, and she was
silent.
''Morc, more! Sing again, pretty
r,usic!" cried Clairette when the player
stopped, and she clapped her little hands
in glee.
So the wonderful violin played on,
seeming to speak words of enchantment,
and showing plainly what the poor
hunchback had received as his maternal
inheritance. From that day tender af.
fection united the two children, and the
years passed on.
Lucien has become man, and is asso-
ciated with his uncle in business. He is
a most valuable assistant, being gifted
with extraordinary intelligence. He has
not neglected his musical talent, and has
had the best instruction.
"Do you know, my boy" said his
uncle, "that you will some day be a great
composer, our pride and glory9"
"My only glory" replied Lucicn,
softly, "is in knowing that Clairette is
pleased with me-"
He speaks the truth, poor fellow; his
whole happiness in life depends upon his
cousins smile.
She too, the petted sensitive child, is
now grown up, and has become lovely
woman. She loves her cousin with frank
sincere affection, and prefers to all other
music the air he played for her when
first they met, so that in the family the
melody is always called "Clairette's
Song" 1t is a composition worthy of a
master-musician, and since drying the
child's tears, has become the souvenir of
her earliest Joys.
What happened next was inevitable.
One day Lucien acknowledged to him
self that he loved Clairette, and called
himself fool for daring to raise his eyes
to the daughter of his benefactor. True,
she was his cousin, but how could he,
the poor hunch-back, hope to marry the
beautiful blooming girla He concealed
his grief within his heart, and the violin,
his only confdant, wept and sobbed for
his hopeless love.
Claire Langelot, a gentle, affectionate
girl, treated Lucien as her dearest friend
and counselor, confding to him her in
most thoughts. One day she artlessly
told him of her love for Raoul Darboz,
and then in sudden burst of happiness,
exclaimed:
''Elere, Lucien, take your violin and
play Ciairctte's Song for mep
Al, what bitter irony that was! The
instrument was forced to sing her happy
love, under his martyred fingers!
A little later, Raoul and Claire were
married. Lucien played the wedding
march. 1t was his own composition, and
all through the music mystic strain was
interviewer by the masters skill, and
filed the vaulted edifce with its tender
melody.
The bride started when she recognized
her favorite air.
"Poor dear cousin" she thought, ''it
is all for me that he is playing"
At the wedding breakfast they awaited
tile musician, impatient to congratulate
him on his new composition, but he did
not appear.
''An artists caprice" said Uncle
Langelot. "Pll wager that he is busy
writing out his latest improvisation.
Clairie was grieved at Lucien's alb
sence, but that evening she and her hus-
band set out for Fontainebleau, which
was the first stopping place of their we'd
ding tour.
On arriving at the hotel near'the grand
old forest, the young bride sat looking
out of the window to enjoy the view and
the scent of the fir trees.
Night fell, calm and quiet, the trees
were rustled by the caresses of the
breeze, sweet perfume came from the
forest, and the only sound was soft in
definable murmur that seemed like the
breathing of nature.
Claire turned to Raoul, saying:
"Do. you know, l am anxious about
Lucien. He may be ill. l did not see
him, even to say goodbye"
Raoul clasped her in his arms as he re-
piled with loves jealousy:
"Forget him and every one, my wife,
all your thoughts now belong to me-, :"
and beneath the blue sky where the
golden stars were sparkling, she forgot
all else in the embrace of him to whom
she had given her heart.
Suddenly there arose on the still night
air soft strain of music that sounded
like q sigh, lamentation, and Claire,
reused from her ecstacy of love ex-
claimed: