Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1892-01-15
LA BRETONNE.


gown and coiffed in a linen cap that
framed in singular fashion q 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 Bretonue.
Condemned for infanticide. it was ex-
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 the 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 10 har-
Dor lone 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 OH, and more
trembling and awkward than ever
knocked at the door of that cabaret,
which, properly speaking, was but a can
tine for laborers. The cabaretiere also
eyed her askance, seeming doubtless a
| 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 a
dull hatred for that world which thus
epulsed 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 a grayish road
that ran between two divisions of the
| forest, and where the north wind whis
tied iiercely, choked her with dust and
pelted her with dead leaves
After six years of sedentary and re
cluse life her legs were stiff, the muscles
knotted and her feet. accustomed tC
sabots. punched and bruised by her new
slippers. At the end of league she fell
them blistered and herself exhausted
She dropped upon pile of stones by tn,
wayslde, shiverlng and asking herself il
she was going to be forced to perish ol
cold and hunger in this black night, un
der this icy breeze, which froze her u
the marrow.
| All at once, in the solitude of the road
she seemed to hear the droning notes o.
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 tn,
direction from which the voice came
and there, at the turn of crossroad
perceived IA reddish light streaming
| through the branches. Five minute
later she was before a mud walled howell
whose roof, covered by squares of sod
leaned against the rock, and whose win
dow had allowed pass that beckoning
ray.
With anxious heart she decided t.
knock.
The chant ceased instantly and a WON
an opened the door, a peasant woman
no older than La Bretonne herself, bu
faded and aged by work. Her bodice
torn in places, displayed the skin tannec
and dirty; her red hair escaped dishev
eled from under soiled stuff cap, ant
her gray eyes regarded with amazemen
the stranger whose face had in it some
thing of touching loneliness,
Good evening"" said she, lifting yer
higher the sputtering lamp in her hand
what do you desiret'
II am unable to go on murmureG
La Bretonne, i'll voice broken by q
sob; the city Is far, and if You vii
lodge me for the night you viii do me 4
service. | have money; | will pay yor
| for the trouble.
Enter" replied the other after q
moments hesitancy; but why" con
tinued she, in a tone more curious thar
suspicious, did you not sleep at Aube
rivey'
They would not give me lodging,
lowering her blue eyes and taken with a
sudden scruple, "be-because, sec you
came from the Maison Centrale."
80! the Maison Centralei but nc
matter-enter-i fear nothing. having
known only misery. Moreover, I've a
conscience against turning Christian
from the door on q night like this. I'll
give You bed and a slice of cheese.
And she pulled from the caves some
bundles of dried heather and spread
them as a pallet in the corner by the
fire
DO you live here alone2" demanded
La Bretonne timidly.
Yes, with my gdchette, going on seven
years now. l earn our living by work.
ing in the wood"
Your man. then, is deadF
Yes, said the other brusquely, 1.-THE
gachette has no father Briefly, to each
his sorrow! But come, behold your
straw, and two or three potatoes left
from supper. 1t is all can offer you
She was called at the moment by a
childish voice coming from dark nook,
spnaratad frnfn tho room, },v y hoarJ p,r