Los Angeles herald., 1892-02-03
LA BRETONNE.

Auberive prison turned upon its hinges
to allow to pass out woman of some
thirty years. clad in faded woolen
gown and coiffed in linen cap that
framed in singular fashion a face
pale and puffed 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 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 to 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 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 askance, scenting doubtless a
discharged" from the Centrale, and
Hv,o ha. ha IL.
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
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-
eluse life her legs were stiff, the muscles
2Snotted 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 a pile of stones by the
wayside, shivering and asking herself if
she was going to be forced to perish of
cold and hunger in this black night, un-
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
q 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 crossroad,
perceived reddish light streaming
Through the branches. Five minutes
later she was before mud walled hovel,
whose roof, covered by squares of sod,
LEANED against the rock, and whose win
dow had allowed to pass that beckoning
ray.
Y
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 a soiled stuff cap, and
fho,. cr,-ax, auao rooo rd o1 xxy;fl -,
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 desirer
II am unable to go on" murmured
La Bretonne, in voice broken by a
sob; "the city is far, and if you will
dodge me for the night you will do me a
service. have money; l will pay you
for the trouble"
ENTER" replied the other after a
moments hesitancy; ''but why" con-
tinued she, in tone more curious than
suspicious. "did you not sleep at Aube-
river
"They would not give me lodging" ;"
lOWCI1uS lCh DAuO Oy % dllu tdhcu Will d
sudden scruple. "be-because, see you.
3 came from the Maison Centrale."
"Sol the Maison Centrale! but no
matter-enter-I fear nothing, having
known only misery. Moreover, I've a
conscience against turning a 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.
do you live here aloneS" demanded
LA Bretonne timidly.
"Yes, with my gachette, going on seven
years now. | earn our living by work
ing in the wood"
your man, then, is dead9"
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 you"--
She was called at the moment by a
childish voice coming from dark nook,
separated from the room by board par
tition
Good nightr repeated she. 1.-The little
one cries; l must 60, but sleep you wellr'
And taking up the lamp she passed
into the closet, leaving La Bretonne
crouched alone in the darkness.
Stretched upon her heather. after she