The Press., 1891-04-02
..rbeu went awau toeether. and for two

s'They went away together, and for two weeks M. Jean has been at the doctors house."
 Madame reached out trembling hand and steadied herself against the hedge.
 "Cured," she murmured, "cured. Then he will see my face-this worn and ugly face of mine. He will not recognize La Belle Elise. Why" with low laugh, 'why, I will have to make my husbands acquaintance all over again. Thank you, Mere Choppine. Thank you. IT will go to the doctors. Thank you"
 The old woman watched the dusty figure disappear at the turn of the road.
 "Humph!' she growled. "One would think it was bad news to hear that that hulking husband of hers was cured, after starving eleven years to feed him. On, these Parisiansi these ParisiansP' shak- ing her head dolefully, "they've been lit tie cracked ever since the war;" and shoul- dering her faggots she numbered down the hill.
 Mime. Perreau knew the chateau of Dr. Bourdel only too we'll. From the west win dow of the gray house, when she was dreaming over her work late O nights, she looked with longing eyes at it's graceful Norman tower gleaming like silver in the moonlight. The lacelike balconies would
 
 and dream on warm summer days. It angered her to have that tempting villa al- ways before her eyes, morning, noon and night to remind her of her misery. She had begun to hate the very sight of it's vine grown walls
 Today it seemed as if Mime. Perrean would never reach the green eminence on which it stood. The heat was oppressive; she was faint from having eaten nothing since morning. The precipitation rolled down her heated cheeks; her hair had strug- gled from it's fastenings and aoated wildly about her face. The dust covered her from head to foot As she struggled on the hedges seemed to close in about her as if to hold her back. The chateau, with it's gleaming roof, melted away in the distance as if trying to elude her. Who would have recognized La Belle Elise of other days in the bedraggled figure that sank down exhausted in the shadow of the hedge that skirted the doctors gar den? The music of fountain soothed her tired senses. The sight of the house that held all that was dearest to her on earth made her forget her great weariness. And yet she felt a doubt-an unrest in her heart that she could not define. But when the gold pieces jingled in the rusty sachel her hopes revived. How he WOulQ welcome Ter, DFluSlnS SuCn joyous news! She could feel his arms about her even now and grateful tears falling upon her face. The very thought gave her strength. She walked slowly toward the fountain and sat down on the rustic bench by it's margin
 She wanted to think over what she was to say to Jean the moment she saw him. She was too excited to face him just then. What should she say? What should she say to this stranger who had Lot seen her face for eleven long years? ''It is forbidden for strangers to enter these grounds without the doctors per mission," interrupted q voice. She turned A servant in dark blue livery was cycling her curiously.
 'I came to see my husband" rising. "He is here under the doctors treatment for his eyes.''
 Mime. Perreau?" "Yes."
 "Be seated. They are even now coming out" He turned away. She sat down. Her heart was beating wildly. She did not dare to look toward the house. She heard the crunching of the gravel on the path. She turned. She saw Jean and with him Dr. Bourdel, as she sup posed, guiding him gently with one hand on his arm.
 "Is it better now, my poor friend?" asked the doctor.
 ''My eyes are so dim with tears that every thing is misty" said Jean. "Ah! to come out of eleven years of night into this glori ous day."
 "But you can see?"
 sDistinctly now," wiping his eyes. ''Oh, is it possible there can be misery in such lovely world as this?" ic pf ho of " be sure,' said the doctor with smile. Mime. Perreau moved toward him. Their eyes met. Hers soft with love; his cold,
 passionless. He regarded her curiously as she struggled to speak.
 "Who is this woman?" he said, looking at the doctor inquiringly. The other shook
 his head.
 "T-I am your wife, Jean," her voice so choked with tears it was like another speak
 ing.
 My wife!' he said, raising his eyes dreamily toward the sky. La Belle Elise
 had glad, blue eyes and softly rounded cheeks and curling hair of gold. A face
 like St. Cecilia's, worthy to be worshiped."
 He paused. His eyes scanned the wan,
 white face, the silvering hair, the dusty,
 shabby dress. He shook his head. "No- no, my good woman, gently. "You have
 made a mistake. I do not know you."
 His eyes wandered to the rose bushes be-
 yond the towering parterre. He passed slowly down the path. He did not look back.
 Madame watched him go with dry, tear
 less eyes. Her hat had fallen off, The
 sunlight touched her hair with gold.
 "Doctorl'' she cried, in agony, "why did
 you do it? Why did you do it? We were
 happy before-when he was blind. But
 now-but now," with Q sob, Che does not
 know me-hls wife. His eyes have been
 opened. God in mercy close mine!"
 She fell at his feet The gold from the
 open sachel was scattered over her dusty
 dress aud tumbled hair, covering her with
 mocking significance. It was glorious
 pail for La Belle Elise.-Ernest Delaney
 Pierson in St. Louis Republic.
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