The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-01-11

Auberive prison turned upon its hinges
TO allow to pass out u woman of some
thirty years, clad in faded wooden
gown and coifed in linen cap that
srarned in singular fashion a face
pale and pulled by that sickly hued fat
which develops on prison regimen. She
was prisoner whom they had just lib
Grated, and whom her companions Of de-
tention called La Bretonne.
Condemned for infanticide. it was OK
actly. day for day, six years ago that the
prison van had brought her to the Cen
trale. Now, in her former garb, and
with her small stock of money received
from tho clerk in her pocket, she found
herself free and with her road pass
stamped for Langres.
The courier for Langres, however, had
long since gone Cowed and awkward,
she took her way, stumbling toward the
Chief inn of the borough, and with
trembling voice asked shelter for the
night. But the inn was crowded, and
the aubergiste, who did not care to har-
Dor zone of those birds from over yon-,
der" counseled her to push on to the
cabaret at the far end of the village.
La Bretonne passed on, and more
trembling and awkward than ever
knocked at the door of that cabaret,
which, properly speaking, was but can
tine for laborers. The cabaretiere also
eyed her aslzance, scenting doubtless
discharged" from the Centrale, and
finally refused her on the plea that she
had no bed to give her.
La Bretonne dared not insist, but with
bowed head pursued her way, while at
the bottom of her soul rose and grew
dull hatred for that world which thus
repulsed her.
She had no other resource than to gain
Langres afoot.
Toward the end of November night
comes quickly. Soon she found herself
enveloped in darkness, on grayish road
that ran between two divisions of the
forest, and where the north wind whis-
tied tiercely, choked her with dust and
pelted her with dead leaves.
After six years of sedentary and re-
cIuse life her legs were stiff, the muscles
knotted and her feet, accustomed to
sabots, pinched and bruised by her new
slippers. At the end of a league she felt
them blistered and herself exhausted.
She dropped upon pile of stones by the
wayside. shivering and asking herself it
she was going to be forced to perish Of
cold and hunger in this black night, I'M
der this icy breeze, which froze her to
the marrow.
All at once, in the solitude of the road,
she seemed to hear the droning notes Of
a voice singing. She listened and dis
tinguished the air of one of those caress-
ing and monotonous chants with which
one soothes young children.
She was not alone, then!
She struggled to her feet, and in the
direction from which the voice came,
and there, at the turn of a crossroad,
perceived d reddish light streaming
! through the branches. Five minutes
| later she was before mud walled howell,
whose roof, covered by squares of sod,
| leaned against the rock, and whose win
dow had allowed to pass that reckoning
ray.
With anxious heart she decided to
| knock.
The chant ceased instantly and wom-
| an opened the door, a peasant woman,
| no older than La Bretonne herself, but
faded and aged by work. Her bodice,
torn in places, displayed the skin tanned
and dirty; her red hair escaped dishev-
eled from under soiled stuff cap, and
| her gray eyes regarded with amazement
the stranger whose face had in it some
thing of touching loneliness.
Good EVENING"" said she, lifting yet
higher the sputtering lamp in her hand;
what do you desire!"
II am unable to go on" murmured
La Bretonne, in voice broken by a
sob; ''the city is far, and if you will
lodge me for the night you will do mo a
service. / have money; I will pay you
for the trouble"
Enter" replied the other after a
moments hesitancy; "but why" con-
tinued she, in a tone more curious than
suspicious, "did you not sleep at Aube-
riye?'
"They would not give me lodging, y
lowering her blue eyes and taken with
sudden scruple, "be-because, see you,
came from the Maison Centrale.'
$50! the Maison Centrale! but nc
matter-enter-I fear nothing, having
known only misery. Moreover, I've a
conscience against turning Christian
from the door on night like this. I'll
give you bed and slice of cheese.
And she pulled from the caves some
bundles of dried heather and spread
them as pallet in the corner by the
fire.
.fDo you live here alone?" demanded
La Bretonne timidly.
"Yes, with my gachette, going on seven
years now. | earn our living by work
ing m the wood"
Your man, then, is dead?'
| "Yes," said the other brusquely, "the
gachette has no father. Briefly, to each
his sorrowl But come, behold your
straw, and two or three potatoes left
from supper. 1t is all can offer your
She was called at the moment by 8