The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1892-04-12
A STORY FROM PARIS.
AN INTERESTING ROMANCE OF A
THoUGHTLESs PAINTER.


Negligent Artist staid to Accept His
Love, and Later His Hand and Heart.
Little Child Led Them.
There is friend of mine, a painter,
who has all the talents and no talent of
his own. He would copy or initiate a
Greuze or Watteau to perfection. Al
Diaz by him only wants the signature,
which an unscrupulous dealer does not
hesitate to forge. My friend, whom we
will call Durand, is an excellent man,
industrious and clever, but too negligent
to take the initiative in anything, even
in painting. Well, he had given notice
to quit his apartment in July, on the
fifteenth day of the month, at noon, ac-
cording to the customs of the country.
He had, however, been SO absorbed in
his painting that he had forgotten to re-
tain a wagon to take away his furniture,
and when he did at last concern himself
about the matter he only succeeded in
securing one for the end of the day. But
at noon precisely, just as he was putting
the finishing touches to a copy of
Greuze's famous ''Cruche- Cassee," there
came an imperious knock at the door.
It was the new tenant, escorted by her
furniture. She was furious to find that
Durand was ''dawdling over his paint
brushes" while all her furniture was
out in the street exposed to the gaze of
indiscreet passersby. She even threat
.ened to send for the police in order to
bring Durand to sense of his duties as
an outgoing tenant.
Durand, like many painters, thought
the sea more charming than ever when
agitated by a storm, and concluded that
his fair visitor was rendered more beau
tiful by her anger. She was about
twenty-five years of age. She had dark
hair and blue eyes, fine, supple figure,
and her pretty nostrils were slightly
dilated by her emotion. She was ac-
companied by little girl of six years
of age-a little golden haired fairy.
"Whati" continued the irate lady, 'tyou
are not going away until o'clock? 1t
Is absurd! What am l to do with my
furniture? Where is the proprietor?
must see the proprietorl'' It was i'm
possible to crafty her last wish. The
concierge alone was available, but the
newcomer was SO terrible, SO aggressive
and so threatening that Cerberus was
tanned and ran away. leaving his broom
behind him.
INFLUENCE OF A CHILD.
Durand ought, according to his sys-
tenn of imitation, to have become wrath
full, too, but his adversary was a pretty
woman, SO he sought an ally. The lit
tie girl was playing with shepherdess
In porcelain de SAKE that adorned one
end of the chimney piece. ''Should you
hike it?' "Oh, yes; it is so prettyr'
''Take it." Jeanne" said the mother,
II forbid you to accept anything" 'sIf
it were only to please her." replied
Durand, al could understand your pro-
hibition, but it is an economy for me.
shall have so much less to move"
Women are ready laughers The lady
fixed her eyes on the wall in order to
keep her countenance. "Your name is
Jeanneg said the painter. eyes," an
swered the child. "And your papa
where is he?" HE died two years ago.
"And mamma is a widow eyes, mon
sieur."
Then turning to the lady, Durand
apologized for his sins, told her that he
had cleared one room and that he would
go and help her get her furniture in.
Soon the furniture began to find it's
place-the wardrobe, the mirror, the
bookcase. ''Oh, madame, without know
ing you, as l look at these books can
read your mind. Balzac, Hugo, Lamar
tine ',Ta, ia, ta," cried the irate
lady, you would have done better to
clear out before noon than to be trying
to study my character" 81 am work
ing all the time, madame. Look! |
have put that console there-here the
statue of the Virgin-this little mirror
opposite the window" "Oh, it is no
use; you cannot make peace with mer'
WRATH TURNED TO LOVE.
There was an interval of twenty min
utes, during which the lady stood at the
window. Durand had remained in his
room with the child. care they COM
ing today or tomorrow-your menr' she
asked angrily as she came back into the
room; but she stopped in the middle.
Jeanne, motionless and smiling, was
seated on chair and Durand was paint
ing her portrait. Mamma" said the
little one suddenly, ."I.a am hungry. You
have some wine and pate in the big
basket. "Come, then, and breakfast on
the balcony" murmured the mother.
Durand was left alone to finish his
sketch. There was silence of ten min
utes. Then the child returned timidly.
Mamma has something to ask you."
"WhatS' ''She does not dare. s.She
wants to turn me out?" 'sNo." ssWhat
thenr' Mamma would like to know if
you-if you would like piece of pate
This happened on July Is, and when
the concierge arrived, all trembling, to
announce that the men had at last come
to remove Durand's furniture, he found
him sitting on the balcony at table with
the mother and dandling the child on
his knees.
Misfortunes, however, never come
alone. The wagon was too small. It