The World. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1891-1896, 1892-03-26
II AND ".

Partisan shrine of poverty and central
altar OF official usury-was crowded, A
long line like a torpidly winding serpent
stretched itself lazily far out into the
Rue des Blancs- Manteaux. For several
hours the clerk behind his grated win
dow has droned out the numbers as he
bent his worn face above the greasy
book in which he IS busy inscribing
names and addresses.
again? So soona And still pretty
with vicious smile. Lace pin-Nwith
small diamond huml Twenty francs
for II. Pass on quicklyl Next Welt
And you? A carved crucifx. Ivory? No
Five francs for ~"
mo moreg"
mo more. Take or leave. You detain
others. Decide"
No. 70 hesitates. Suddenly a rough
hand tugs at her shabby shawl. She
turns. It is No. II. A moment later
the two girls stand side by side in the
street.
ssHerel Take this" mutters II. ~
insist ] stole your luck by my odd
number. Besides-it Is to cheat the
devil. No? Why2 What little foolr'
No. 70 has face like a pale fame.
Her lips are blue, and much shivering
has rounded her thin shoulders. n is
ready, facile, feminine gamin. She
thriyes on Paris as dandelion fiaunts
from the crevice Of q paving stone. The
one is smiling, yet dumb with amaze
ment. The other talks, laughs, yet win
never smile again.
.Tuti A few francs! 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
Pauls fete day"
ssYou live"
Marguerite. He-Paul-works at the
theater. It is . good position, but it re-
quires that he appear well to keep it.
This eats his earnings as moth eats
feathers. We are from the south-Paul
and /. He is happy here-but p
"Amuse yourself by starving that he |
may-ohl comprehend. Herer' and |
she draws her into wine shop. "Waiterl
A basket Now fill it'll First-a bottle |
Of wine, then sugared loaf-then i.
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.r Paying
the waiter, n drops the change into ths |
loaded basket.
stAnd who accept this--do not yet |
know your Manner No. 70 Is grateful,
but there are no tears. Tears are q lux
ury with the poor.
ssCall memo. IL"
81 shall call you-my saint"
Anything but that, my girl Well
TIL shall see You again" And she |
watches her stagger away beneath her
! burden.
ssMademoiselle is generousf' ventures |
the waiter, who has followed them out |
side the shop.
Nonsense! It is my capricei She is |
dying that girl. 1t is written. And
her Paul? A fine, selfish scamp, I'll war
rant" And with laugh and whirl
on her heel she hurries away.
One year in Partisan garnet. Oar
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 pillow, her
straw had not seemed 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-a 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 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.
81 was dreaming. What of it?' said
he, staring foorward.
Before he went away that morning he
drew her fondly toward him and ten
derby kissed her rough and Redeemed
slender hands. It was q revival of love,
Jeanne thought, and sang softly to her
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 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 by 70 upon
the low straw pallet and laughed and
TESTED until Jeanne grew merry from
sheer contagion.
Y 1--WE viii thank her together when
you are well again, my Jeanne, and find
- Il. -