Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-09-28
CHAPTER III.

Varengeville, with it's tiled and
matched roofs, its quaint sixteenth
century air, its outlying farms, with
their stretches OF green, their fruit
trees, towering hedges, and here and
there a private residence embowered
in roses, was just the place for man
disappointed in life to take refuge in.
Here he would scarcely be in the world
which had SO cruelty, SO brutally re-
fused to enroll him among its con-
tented souls.
In this curious old village stood the
ruins of a castle once inhabited by
Angot, the millionaire pirate, who used
to loan money to Francis la name,
by the way, we'll known to the lovers of
comic opera. For who does not remem-
Der the tuneful melodies of the "Daugh-
ter of Madame Angot," so popular a
few years ago? Just outside of the
village the parish church of quaint
ROmanesque architecture met the eve,
GROWING as it did the high ground to
the west, and right below it, perched
boldly on bluff and overlooking q
deep ravine, stood q square white house
with front for each point of the COM
pass. 1t was quite curtained with
honeysuckle, jasmine, and other twin
ing shrubs and climbers, while the
branches of two rows of Virginia pop
leading up to the front steps. On all
sides clumps of fruit trees and flower
ing shrubs were artistically grouped
with an eye to the picturesque. Roads
and paths were we'll kept and bordered
with strawberry beds yielding fruit up
to the end of September. Within
everything was plain, but comfortable
and inviting. In the dining-room the
tables, chairs, and sideboards were of
mahogany, while the parlor was hung
with Persian tapestry and contained
upholstered furniture.
Here it was that Lucien came to get
away from the tickle and shallow
hearted throng which laughs at loves
wounds as the player shrugs his shout
der at bad run of luck.
Everyone loves Monsieur Barthel-
emy," was always the stereotyped an
swer of the villagers. He is kind to
us all, teaching us how to till our
farms, doctoring our sick ones without
charge and feeding and clothing many
of us who are unable to work"
More than two years had gone by
and no word, no sign of life, had come
from the outer world to disturb this
sweet serenity. Luclen felt that he
had been forgotten and rejoiced that it
was SO.
WAS it not all mere carousal OF the
soui," he asked himself. Am l not
slowly recovering my strength after a
mad and senseless dissipation"
Most of Lucien's visitors came to the
back door; rare indeed was it that any
hand was bold enough to lift the great
knocker at the front and disturb the
stiffness of this house. Hence was it
that the figure of q woman carrying a
child in her arms and approaching the
front steps startled him one morning.
She was closely yelled. Upon reach
ing the steps she hesitated, turned
away and took the path leading around
the house to the back door. Lucien,
who had been watching her, gave a
sigh of relief. But the next instant
the servant threw open the door of the
dining-room, and the woman stood face
to face with the master bountiful of
Varengeville.
We'll, madam, what may I do for
you?"
For her only answer the woman lifted
her veil.
"My God. Madeleine, is it you?"
"My dear master, it is ~ cried the
woman, throwing herself on her knees
and reaching up for his hand, while the