Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1892-07-28


of time"
The chaplain whom Paule had wished to
see, and who had been the conlidant of her
gricfs, had murmured in his ear:
"She is lost, monsieur, poor child; make
her happy six month sat most"
And the priest persistng in the belief
that Paulo was his wife, had added;
at is the duty of IA good husband"
And really, after all, why should she not
have the flowers she wanted-why should
not he, her friend, crafty the little ones
innocent desire?
"Waitf' said he.
And as the dance had ended he rose and
went straight to the shady little thicket
where the one with the bluebells had
taken refuge to rest for moment with
her breathless partner The orchestra
played now a dreamy song waltz, to which
some danced and all joined in the words,
the deep bass of the men supporting and
strengthening the treble of the grizettes,
the leader of the baud pointing the measure
gayly, and lending his aid to direct and
harmonic this choral and instrumental
concert.
Paule, leaning back in her chair, de-
lighted with everything had tight,
harsh little cough that from time to time
was snothered in her handkerchief, but
the surrounding Joy was inseusbly infec-
tious; paues face soon was radiant with
n smile that made her for an instant bean
tiful with youth and health. Then her
friend was back again, n bunch of blue
bells in his hand.
"You have theml" cried she, "you have
the bluebels'
Her friend did not answer but held
them to her. She seized them as a child
seizes an offered plaything with brusque
gesture, inspired apparently at once by
pleasure and fcar--the pleasure of having,
the fear OF losing.
But how had her friend secured the blue
bells? One must truly love much to be
capable of a devotion that borders on the
ridiculous Two words had told the story
of the happy girl with the flowers
lie wanted them, he SAID, his voice trcm-
bling with dread of refusal, for a poor
sick child A mad caprice, he knew it
well, but no one was selling them, he
could not buy them and disappointment
would sadden the last hours of dying
one. Then compassionately, before her
dumb struck escort could bow or say
yes" the girl had pulled them from her
breast and thrust the bluebells into his
hand.
you have Them repeated Paule, and
without asking how he had obtained
them, she took them tenderly in her hot
clasp carried them to her lips and pinned
them to her corsage, smiling, content and
proud.
Her friend regarded her sadly with
swimming eyes, his gaze vague and alb
Sent. Beyond the present, 50 near, he saw
the morrow. 1t was cruel-tcrltble.
All, bat life was short! And men but
fools to live as If it were long! And for
such trihes, too, did vitality eXpend itself
wiseacres and artists use up their wits
lawyers SOW ruin, and politics and war do
the rest That poor little bloodless body, 50
pretty, SO frnil nearly transparent, that
cold breeze would wlther tomorrow like
leaf without sap-was it not the image Of
life, SO brief and feeting?
Dear little Paulel She would last, like
the bluebslls she loved, Just long enough
to charm-aud to be gathercdl
Meanwhile all about them the music
noise and laughter went on.
Evening now had fallen, and everywhere
they were setting the tables among the
trees and the shrubbery and along the
banks, brilliant with Venetian lanterns;
some of the boatmen were going away,
whole boat trains in fact, but double as
many had come and still were oming
Paule's friend, seeing the ever deepening
fame in the white little face, led her to ii
kiosque that overlooked the Seine.
Are we going to dine here" demanded
she happily.
yes, dearest; and if you are too much
tired, as | believe, | will have the yawl put
in boathouse and we will also sleep here.
that you may rest"
Paule clasped her hands delightedIy; the
idea OF sleeping on the isle made smile
Immediately.
And shall see the Seincrunning under
the stars all night long" said She.
But 10; you'll be sleeping"
81? Oh no, sleep 50 little"
1t was true, she did not sleep. At night
the cough killed her, the fever burned her.
ceaselessly, Wlthout respite. Even now,
with the sun an hour gone, the little hand
kerchief was raised more and more fire.
quently to the pale lips.
Just then a strvent entered and set down
a lamp. Paule spread out her flowers on
the clean white cloth, nonchalantly leaned
her elbows on the table and her chin in
her two hands-such feeble, bloodless little
hands, like bits of snow.
"It only" sig he'd she presently, in her
soft, weary voice, answering some IN
spoken thought, IF only could dine on
flowers, like the butterflies"
Something strange in her tone made her
friend raise wondering eyes; she continued,
never needing;
Yes on fiowcrs-these bluebclls hero"
her voice broke little, but She went on
bravcly, 'for-for am going soon, and /
know il. But am very happy, all he the
same, knowing it. And because Of it
| knowing it, ! mean-that ! wantcd-iust
| Tor the last time to come with You today.
! If / could eat buebells like the butterflies
they would spring from my grave, come
| up all around me, growing from my body,
md-and You could gather them" Oh,
| the hearthreak IN the pititul little voice
A. size spoke, slowly, with evident effort,
! but smiling At her friend to prove TO him
that ahe was indeed happy, Paule strove
to raise her head and give her hand to hel
startled lover who, unwilling to see the
| truth, had still not moved.
But the support Of her hand removed, the
heavy little head fell helplesoly forward on
the table ~ the pale brow lay among the
] E,...tr l.