The World. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1891-1896, 1892-02-19
LA BRETONNE.


Auberive prison turned upon its hinges
to allow to pass out IA woman of some
thirty years clad in faded wooden
gown and coiffed in linen cap that
framed in singular fashion. face
pale and pulled by that sickly hued fat
which develops on prison regimen. She
was a 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 III her pocket, she found
herself free and with her road pass
stamped for .angres
The courier for Langres, however, had
long since gone Cowed and awkward
she took her way stumbling toward the
chief lnn 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 "one 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 ner askance seeming doubtless
discharged from the Centrale. and
finally refused her on the plea that she
mad no bed to give her.
LA Bretonne dared not insist, but with
bowed mead pursued her way, while at
the bottom OF her soul rose and grew
dull hatred for that world which thus
repulsed ner.
She mad no other resource than to gain
Langres afoot.
Toward the end of November night
enveloped in darkness on a grayish road
that ran between two divisions of the
forest, and where the north wind whis-
tied tiercely. choked her with dust and
peited her with dead leaves
After six years OF sedentary and re-
cluse 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 ieague she felt
them blistered and herself exhausted
She dropped upon 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
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,
perceived a 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, 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 suffering lamp in her hand;
what do you desire?
4 am unable to go on" murmured
La Bretonne, in a voice broken by a
sob, the city is far, and if you will
lodge ME for the night you will do me a
service. | have money; | will pay you
for the trouble.
Enter replied the other after a
moments hesitancy; but why" con-
tlnued she, I'D tone more curious than
suspicious, did you not sleep at Aube-
rlve?'
They would not give me lodging"
lowering her blue eyes and taken with a
sudden scruple "be-because, see you
| came from the Maison Centrale."
SO the Maison Centrale! but no
matter-enter-l 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 a pallet in the corner by the
| fire.
DO You live here alone?' demanded
La Bretonne rimidly.
Yes with my gachette, going on seven
years now. | earn our living by work
ing IN the wood"
Your man, then, is dead?"
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
l.