The Lebanon express. (Lebanon, Linn County, Or.) 1887-1898, 1893-10-13
II AND Y.


long line like 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 soon? And still pretty?"
with vicious smile. Lace pin-with
small dianond-hum! Twenty francs
for II. Pass on quickly! Next Well
And you? A carved crucifx. lvoryp No.
Five francs for 72."
mo more?"
mo more. Take or leave. You detain
Others. Decide"
No. 72 hesitates Suddenly u rough
hand tugs at her shabby shawl She
turns 1t is No. n. A moment later
the two girls stand side by side in the
street.
Here! Take this" mutters n. 81
insist | stole your luck by my odd
number, Besides--it is to cheat the
devil. No? WhyY What a little foolr
No. ~ has face like pale flame.
Her lips are blue, and much shivering
has rounded her thin shoulders, II is
ready, facile, feminine gamin. She
thrives on Paris as dandelion fiaunts
from the crevice Of paving stone The
one is smiling, yet dumb with amaze
mont. The other talks, laughs, yet will
never smile again.
"Tutl A few francs! What are they
to me? And shall redeem my pin to-
morrow, while you n glance COM
pleted the sentence.
"And lit was that might celebrate
Paul's fete day."
you i've
"At No, -, an attic in the Rue Sainte
Marguerite, He-Paul-works at the
theater. 1t is n good position, but it re-
quires that he appear well to keep it.
This eats his earnings us moth eats
feathers We are from the south-Paul
and l.. He is happy here-but r.
"Amuse yourself by starving that he
may-oh! comprehend, Here!"-
hedrawsher into wine shop. Waiter!
A basket Now fill It'll First--a bottle
OF wine, then a sugared loaf--then l.
pate--some of those 'Tis | who shall
supply Paul's feast, But on one con
dition, my friend-that you eat your
half And the wine is for you" Paying
the waiter, u drops the change into the
loaded basket.
"And who accept this-do not vet
know your namel" No. 70 is grateful,
but there are no tears. Tears are lux
ury with the poor.
"Call memo. H."
II shall call you--my saint"
Anything but that, my girl Well
7e-l shall see you again" And she
watches her stagger away beneath her
burden.
"Mademoiselle is generous~ ventures
the waiter, who has followed them out
side the shop.
"Nonsense 1t is my capricel She is
dying-that girl 1t is written And
her Paul? A fine, selfish scamp, I'll war
rant" And with u laugh and whirl
on her heel she hurries away.
One year in Partisan garrett. Que
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 a 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
deathf She did not know--but felt
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 floorward.
Before he went away that morning he
drew her fondly toward him and ten
derly kissed her rough and Redeemed
slender hands. 1t was 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
new pleasure was also hers.
She did not know that 1t is mans
way when he loves one to kiss the other
dumb.
And every day ut noon her saint"
came for an hour, Every day, in some