The World. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1891-1896, 1892-02-03
II AND Y.

Ebtlbidu hlTiuo Vi pONcESy huu SCuIEut
altar Of official usury-was crowded. A
long line like torpidly winding serpent
stretched itself Iazily far ont into the
Rue des Blancs-M anteaux. For several
hours the clerk behind his grated win
: dow has droned ont the numbers as he
bent his worn face above the greasy
book in which he is busy inscribing
names and addresses.
"Againa So soon? And still prettyY
with a vicious smile. Lace pinwith
small diamond hunt Twenty francs
for Al. Pass on quickly! Next! Welt
And You? A carved crucifx. Ivory? No.
Five francs for az"
"No more?r
"No more Take or leave. You detain
others. Decide.
No. 72 hesitates. Suddenly rough
hand tugs at her shabby shawl She
turns n Is No. II. A moment later
the two girls stand side BY side in the
street.
Here! Take this" mutters II. II
insist. | stole your luck by my odd
number. Besides--it Is to cheat the
devil. No? Why? What a little fool.''
No. 72 has face like a pale flame.
Her lips are blue, and much shivering
has rounded her thin shoulders. II is
ready, facile, q feminine ganin. She
thrives on Paris MS d dandelion fiaunts
from the crevice of paving stone. The
one is smiling, yet dumb with amaze
ment. The other talks, laughs, yet will
never smile again.
Tut! A few francsl What are they
to me? And | shall redeem my pin to-
morrow, while YOU glance COM,
pleted the sentence.
"And Lit was that might celebrate
Paul's fete day.
lyon i've
AT No. ~, an attic in the Rue Sainte
Marguerite. He -Paul--works at the
theater. 1t is good position, but it re.
quires that he appear well to keep it.
This eats his earnings as a moth eats
feathers. We are from the south Paul
and !. He is happy here--but p
"Amuse yourself by starving that he
mayohl | comprehend. HereT- and
she draws her into wine shop. "WaiterI
a basket Now fill It'll First--a bottle
Of wine, then sugared loaf-then u
pate some of those. It's who shall
supply Paul's feast. But on one con-
dition, my friend-that you eat your
half, And the wine is for you.. Paying
the waiter, II drops the change into the
loaded basket.
..And who accept this-do not yet
know your nameF No. 70 is grateful,
hut there are no tears. Tears are lux
ury with the poor.
"Cau memo. II"
II shall call you my saint
Z Anything but that, my girl. Well
7AL1 shall see you again" And she
watches her stagger. away beneath her
burden.
Charlottesville is gencrous!n ventures
the waiter, who has followed them ont
side the shop.
'sNonsensei It is my capricel She is
. dying-that girl. It is written. And
her Paul. A fine, selfish scamp, I'll war
rant" And with laugh and a whirl
on her heel she hurries away.
One year in Partisan garnet. Que
year of green country quiet exchanged
for the lullaby Of Paris-that mother
who too often sings her babies to their
deaths. To be sure, there has always
been Paul, and looking in his eyes
Jeanne could forget her homesickness.
And with his arm for a pillow, her
straw had not seemed d hard bed. But
he was forced to be at the theater early
and late. And nowadays his absences
were growing longer. Jeanne fancied
at times that he was less tender. Paul
was tired tired of being poor Was it
that Poverty was pinching Love to
death? She did not know-but felt a
chill about her heart q dangerous thing
when the body is also cold.
Some one else would beat the ragout
on Paul's next fete day. But Paul came
and went and noticed nothing.
One night in his sleep Jeanne heard
him utter q name.
She leaned to listen, but he said no
more, only smiling In his sleep. She
thought it was '.Susanne." In the morn
ing she questioned him.
q, was dreaming. What of it?s said
he, staring hoorward
DCAOI0 No W0nL away VHtbt HOTu1uS No
drew her fondly toward him and ten
derby kissed her rough and Redeemed
slender hands. 1t was revival of love,
Jeanne thought, and sang softly to her
J self all of that day. Life was easier
after this. Paul grew more kind. and a
new pleasure was also hers
She did not know that it is a mans
way when he loves one to kiss the other
dumb.
And every day at noon her saint"
came for an hour. Every day, in some
small way, Jeanne's small wants grew
smaller. Every day II sat ByA72 upon
the low straw pallet and laughed and
TESTED until Jeanne grew merry from
sheer contagiop.
1--WE viii thank her together when
You are well again, my Jeanne, and find
ont also her real name, Paul would
say in his absentminded way
Uban TaaDrla 'yvas we'll .NeraiYYI NJ