The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-04-01

UAH SAo" "AAeo was OlO enough 8uC
the days grew mild Babette would take
her shawl, and spreading it out ON thu
warm bricks that paved the court put
the baby upon it, shading her little face
from the sun by one of Pierre's big straw
hats hung upon stick. The baby grew
to love Babette, with her broad, round
face and her plump, white arms-grew
TO love the warm court where there was
so much sunlight, and always the splash.
Ing OF water and the Tapping of snowy
clothes on the line.
Then there was Sieur Antoine, with
his violin, whom Snow-white soon
learned to love too. At first he would
only pause when he met Felice or Pierre
upon the stair, and inquired in his sweet,
gentle voice after the little one; but by
and by he grew to stopping on his way
up to his room to see the lady, all white
and soft and clean, tucked away in her
little bed. Sieur Antoine spoke but lit
tie, but he played, oh, so beautifully, sit
ting away up stairs by himself. His vi
DIN talked for him, he would say. He
was always sad and often hungry, Pierre
said. So when Snow. hite was able to
climb the stair without the fear of fall
ing, Felice used sometimes send her up
to Sieur Antoine's room with slice of
bread or bit Of meat that he might
ind it waiting for him on his table.
1t was Pere Martin himself who used
to come for the little girl when she was
old enough to run about, and carry her
with him to the church and his own cozy
little house with its vine clad porch and
its garden Of roses behind. He would
pluck the heavy headed buds that
brushed her cheeks as she passed by
them, and take her back home with her
apron full of flowers, or her two hands
full of the yellow oranges that grow
upon the tree beside his window.
'May not give the Virgin one?" the
child would say, as she picked the finest
flower of her bunch to lay at Mary's feet
as they passed the church.
Thus among her good friends grew
and prospered the little God given child
of Pierre and Felice.
"How white is the snow, maman" she
would say to Felice; lis it so beautiful
that you would have me like it?''
''By and by we shall see, Petite" Fe-
lice would answer.
But the sweet, warm, sunny weather
came and went. There were chilly days
now and then; days when Pierre would
come home .shivering in his big overcoat;
when Sieur Antoines face would look
paler and more pinched than ever; when
Babette would lift the tubs to her room,
and hang the clothes on lines before the
fire; when the roses in Pere Martins
garden would be blighted with the cold,
but the snow never came.
Chow white is the snow, papa?" the
child would ask, and Pierre wonld take
sample of cotton from the pocket of
his blouse, and, tearing it into bits, scat
ter it in flakes about her head.
"Whiter than that" he wo0ld say,
"but we shall see, Petite"
"Whiter than this" Babette would
tell her. taking the frothy suds' from her
tub and throwing it about the child's
head in the air, whence it fell in little
water bits upon the pavement.
whittier than these" Pere Martin
would say, as he lifted her to his broad
shoulders and held her aloft till her face
was buried in the mass of orange bios
SONS above.
have told you that Snow-white grew
and prospered, and SO she did, only ere
yet her eighth year was passed, when
the winter came on Pere Martin felt the
burden grow lighter as he lifted the
child to his shoulder, and Sieur Antoine
thought the little footsteps were less
brisk as she mounted the stairs to his
room.
"Our little one is not WELL" said Marta
TO Felice one day; ''she no longer likes
the candy; she no longer comes for her
bit in the morning"
And that night when Snow-white lay |
asleep in her bed Felice knelt down be-
side her, and saw that the little face had |
indeed grown paler, and the little form
thinner.
What if the good God should take
again the child he has lent US, Pierre?"
she said despairingly, and together they
melt beside the child's couch and
prayed. The next day the child could |
not rise; she lay there growing weaker
md weaker, and fading away like the
roses in Pere Martins garden.
Gam l going to be baby again,
she would say sometimes. II
cannot walk, and you have always to
lift me-"
What sad household it was when the
title ones step was heard no more on
he stair and her voice sounded no more
n the halls! AS the week passed on
Felice's song was hushed, and she went
,ut but seldom. Pierre's comrades no.
iced the poor fellows sadness and pitied
i'm. Babette would leave her tubs for
hours to sit by the dear ones bed. Mar
as voice was heard less cheerily on the
treet, and she found her way often to
he old cathedral, where she might say
prayer for Snow-white.
This is strange \nteS," said Sieur
Antoine one night as he sat by the little
mes bed lingering his violin strings,
which were taut and dry with the cold.
will it snow?' said the child, looking
Up eagerly
Il remember Pierre, the last time it
moved here. 1t has been eight years
go, for the little one had not come to
IS then. remember it looked still and
ray like this before the snow fell" said
'ehce.
Yes, remember" said Babette, land
would not cover my tubs, thinking to
atch the rain l thought was coming,
nd the next morning were they not
"Ah, is it so beautiful, the snow:n