The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-09-28
HIS FIRST'S ASHES.

siers of the line. died, he was sorely
stricken with sorrow, and would not be
comforted. In fact, he had hardly had
time to enjoy his happiness or appre-
ciate his treasure, for they had been
married only month. when she was
taken from him in the midst Of their
wedding tour in Italy.
Just about returning 10 Paris, she fell
i'll IN Rome and died Of fever, IN spite
Of the many physicians called to attend
her and the devoted care Of her husband,
who never left her side till she breathed
her last.
Conscious 10 tho end, she bpagely
sought to console him.
st was not given to ,nortals," she
said, "to be happy for long. Our joy
has been too great; it could not last
Do not weep, dearest" she cried; "let
me pass away in peace, without the
memory of your distressed face Smile;
do not look 30 sadr' and she raised her
trembling :hand and careesingly laid it
on his cheek
you are soldier" pursued she,
death should have no terrors for you.
1 have loved you only; do me, then, one
always, even in death beseech you.
crelnate Inc, then: reduce me to little
heap of ashes that you can carry always
with you. | shall never disturb you.
How strange it seems to coll heap of
ashes Yet 30 il will be- You will
sometimes glance at me thus, and can
never entirely forget mer'
Nevertheless when Durande returned
to Paris he was changed man He was
thin and haggarl; his eyee had lost their
luster. his step its elastic spEing and
confidence
Courage. courage, my boy.' his Colo
nel would say to him
BE brave, my frietsdr' repeated his
brother officers
But joy and brightness had gone out
of Durande's life. The once brilliant
soldier was Il broken man.
No one on arrival was allowed TO
touch his luggage, and he himself, with
care and weeping. drew from his satchel
an artistic little vase that he solemnly
charged his brosseur never ON any &C.
count to lay hands upon.
"a token of poor madame?' the man
ventured to ask.
Eyes, token" Durande responded;
before which. the slim Roman urn that
held oil that was left Of his poor wife's TO-
mains, he knelt and wept bitterly when
alone again. at night it stood in full
view npon cabinet beside his bed, that
his eyes might rest upon it when not
closed in sleep and by day. When his
leave had expired and he had returned
IN l><a jof,
comrades, joining in none Of their pleas
ures or nmusements, seeming to live only
in the memory of his lost wife and that
urn-which might be knocked over.
He had placed her portrait In every
room in his house, and by u strange para
dox of sentiment it was here, among all
these tender recollections, that he passed
his least miserable hours.
BY degrees, through steady contem-
plation. perhaps, the sight of the Roman
urn produced u less painful effect upon
the disconsolate widower, and no longer
CAUSED him the cruel heart pangs of tho
first days Of Bereavement. 10. ~ 80
He was now able to picture his dar-
ling as she had been in the zenith of
strength and beauty, gay, smiling charm
ing. Again and again he recalled and
lived over the moments Of that honey
moon journey, and grew happy himself
in this sweet, posthumous revival Of
radiant hours.
When at work the urn stood on his
writing table, and he thought how in
life and i'll that bygone time he had writ
ten and pondered and she had sat quiz
city beside him reading or sewing tran
gully, silently, without disturb bling him
Six months passed. heightened to q
year, and now and then it happened that
Durande forgot tho urn and left it On his
table at night instead Of carrying. 1t to
his bedroom. Finally he enshrined it
for good ON his office table. Not that
the memory Of his wife was less than at
first, but because in time it was borne
IN npon him that funereal deposit like
this was unsanitary, unhealthy in a
sleeping room.
Nevertheless every day it was sur
rounded. as usual, with lilies and roses,
his wife's favorite flowers.
Tho one year heightened to two, and
Durande had returned to his bachelor
life.
Is NiOnD, W Dury yourself awe
thus" said his friends and his wifes re-
lations; begin, go into the world
again"
Durande yielded, once moro went out,
frequented the quarters Of his brother
officers, joined in their jollifying, and
actually one evening carried them all
homo with him to a banquet In his own
apartments. The wine was good, the
champagne sparkling. laughter, Songs,
uproar the order Of the night; when Che
supper ended they all adjourned 10 the