The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895, 1893-05-06
L.I.A.p.E.

more. Two weeks passed, when the
following letter was received by Alice,
written in, large, scrawling characters
and several faults in spelling:
"Mademoiselle: You have sent ME
nothing for a long time, so permit me
to suggest q s~ubject-the fountain of
Saint Arnould, where little children are
dipped to strengthen them. My mother
believed in it's efficacy, as the Norman
peasant women do now. So this will
be q souvenir Of her. I will not offer
to pay more for it, though 1 should like
it larger. -Anthime Barbejean."
Lame made no objection to this re-
quest, and the tone Of the letter raised
the writer in my estimation. AS to
Alice, she had long desired to sketch
the ruins of Saint ArnOuld and seized
the opportunity with delight. I begged
to accompany them. So at daybreak
the next morning we set off on our
artistic pilgrimage.
the foot Of a picturesque hill on the
little to say of ArnOuld d'Iveline, ex-
cept that he vas canOnized in the six
teenth century and that the priory was
HAOOuU4y I'LL upoA "AdL l1du UCCA a
simple MerOvingian hermitage: The
nave and square of the chapel belonged
to the Neustrian period, and the side
chapel, which was battered into ruins
during the Revolution, was added dur
ing the fifteenth century.
Healthy Norman vegetation seems to
have takeI. upon itself the task If re-
pairing the insult offered the saint by
his fellow Nothing more charm
ing or picturesque can be conceived
than the mingling Of Roman and Goth
ic ruins with the fantastic exuberance
of this Norman vegetation. Magnifi-
cent ash trees rise in the center of the
roofless church and cover it with a
dome of foliage. Ivy climbs the broken
columns, throws its hardy garlands
across the shattered arches and COM
pletely covers the old towers. Shrubs
and friendly plants grow amid the
cracked marbles of the pavement, a
young elm thrives upon a broken cap
ital, lilybells jangle upon carvings of
the ogives, and a wall-fower sheds it's
sweet breath from a niche once occu-
pied by the statue Of a saint.
A little way from the chapel are two
fountains. One in the form of a bath
is that referred to by Athime; the
other, dedicated to st. Claire, is
| thought to be effectual in diseases of
the eye. Twice a year this place is
thronged with pilgrims who kneel In
der the shadow of the crumbling
arches, but the rest Of the twelvemOnth
it is the most silent and solitary spot
in the neighborhood of Trouville..
The first rays Of the sun were gim-
mering through the dense foliage
gently stirred by a faint breeze, as we
reached u halting place. The dew
still lay upon grass and herb, while
here and there a dim wreath of mist
foated over the g~reensward. After
enjoying these beauties of nature for a
time, Alice commenced her work,
Lame took out her embroidery, while
I wandered idly about gathering wild
flowers for my companions, or seated
on the grass read the fragments from
Jocelyn. Alice %applauded the poet en-
Enthusiastically, but Lame, who said
nothing, ended by weeping. This story
of fraternal sacrifice, was it not, alas!
her WI history?
When the hour for luncheon arrived,
our napkins were spread or a messy
stone and we did honor to the pro-
| visions with which we were furnished
at common expense. Then, while the
| sisters resumed their occupations, I
assembled the hill to the isle of the Gel
| ebrated Chateau Of Lassay, around
which cluster memories of the Grande
| MademOiselle and Madame de Pompa-
dour, and whose only remaining vestige
is a small pavilion on a naked hill, used
as a landmark for sailors.
On my return Lame said, 1--WE have
been hearing footsteps in the chapel"
II hardly think it possible, unless
some one has passed by here"
1--WE have seen no n
II will 60 and see."
A few steps behind the ruins, in a
| cottage lost among the trees, dwells
a lonely woman, guardian Of the keys.
| When I asked for them she appeared
| strangely embarrassed, but finally said,
1.-The real door is OPEN" Through this
door the chapel could be entered with
out our seeing or %suspecting it. Push
ing gently against the half-open door, /
| entered quietly. The silence was pro-
found, but in the deep embrasure Of
the eastern Ogive there was the figure
of a man kneeling in an angle which
sheltered him completely from outside
observation. 1t was Anthime Barbe-
jean! -
He was watching the sisters, and 80
absorbed was he that he neither saw
me nor heard my approach. When I
touched him lightly on the shoulder, he
awoke as from a dream, and stood
mute and motionless before me. 1t
gave me time to observe how much he
and gay, was colorless and melancholy ;
L hfc ryn rryhfoh hn ho1 fOnsn0ffor1 RI
wipe, were brimming with tears. So
touched was I with this singular sad
ness, that / did not utter a word of re-
EprOach, except the question, why do
you spy upon them thus?"
EDO not tell them ]. was here" he
urged with q s~upplicating gesture. Il
am going away now" I made a sign
equivalent to q promise, and the poor
fellow disappeared. To doubt was no
longer possible, he loved one of the SIS
ters, but which, To tell the truth, ]
was pleased with my discovery. The
ladies' TheyenOt were poor; he was rich.
He was good and generous, I felt sure,
and IL unsp0ken love could effect so
great q change In so brief q time, what
metam0rphosis might not be wrought
by fulfilled longing. Turning over
these thoughts in my mind, / returned
slowly to my companions.
"WellY' they asked, In d breath.
There is no there"
VII.
"Come!!' said Alice, sslet us 60"
Already" r~eproachfully exclaimed
Lime.
Have you forgotten that my lessons
were postponed till this evening? What
time is It, Monsieur
.asHalf-past two"
.DeHghtful!'' said Alice. w car go
home the longest way. Confe!w