Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1893-09-21

the covert OF the trees, stealthily, SER
pent-like, stole forth a woman-young.
handsome, smartly dressed, with a
black silk gown, and a bonnet all roses
and lace-a shopkeeper in holiday at
tire. The face was dark with hatred
and malice, the eyes were bright with
angry fires. Slowly, stealthily, the
lovers had taken-following as the
shadow follows the sun, as night fol
lows day
But now the band struck up a quad
rifle composed of the liveliest airs from
the PrincesSe de TrebiZonde, which had
lately enchanted the bOulevards; and
then began those wild choric measures
in which Partisan youth excels all
other nations. The habitues of the
garden-the clerk and the shopmen
and the commercial travellers, industrial
and intellectual youth of every grade
| began their diversions, to the delight
| Of the spectators. Legs were flung in
the air, wild leapings and convulsive
evOlutiOnS diversified the humdrum
| figures of the legitimate quadrille; each
dancer tried to out-Herod his vis-a-vis.
wilder bound, the left triumphed; while
the lookers-on laughed and applauded
But there was no offence in this out
break of muscular activity and high
spirits Sunday dances at these gar
dens are sacred to the people There
is very little admixture of the demi-
monde on Il Sunday evening; the clerk
and for in,
dustries of Paris, have the field to
themselves.
The journalist and his fair-haired
sweetheart did not reappear in the
quadrifle. They were sauntering side
by side in the shadOwy walks hearing
the joyous music vaguely; for the low
est whisper of a loves voice has more
power on the listing ear of love than
the lOudest orchestra that ever crashed
and jingled in the music Of Orphee aux
ENTERS or the Grande DuchesSe.
"Why should Rose doom us to waltz
pleaded the journalist, bending his
dark ardent eyes on the fair sweet face
beside him. What does poverty mat
ter, if we are true to each other and
strong to conquer fortune, as we are,
Kathleen? We can bear 4 few priya-
tons in the present, knowing that Fate
will he kinder in the future. I have
won a shred of reputation already,
though | write for such a Wretched rag
of a paper that | can earn very little
money; but fame will come and money
Will follow before we are ten years
older. At my age Balzac was no richer
than | am"
Il am not afraid Of poverty" answer
ed the girl gently. "Why should [ fear
what 1 have known all my life? Rose
and | have always been poor; but we
have always been happy; except once
when she had the fever All, that was
heart-breaking. No money to pay a
doctor, no money for wine or fruit or
fuel, no money for the rent, and the
deadly fear of being turned out of our
lodging while she lay helpless and un-
conscious on her bed. No prospect but
the hospital. Yes, those dark days.
almost envied the rich
Almost enyied, my angel? | am
made of a different stuff, and | hate
and envey them at all times. That
hatred gives bitterness to my pen
razor, acidity, all the qualities our Par
islam love. 1t is my chief stock-in-
trade. l could not live without it."
''Ah, you feel the sting of poverty
more than | do, because you come of
a race that was once rich, family that
was once noble"
Yes; | come of a decayed race
worn out, etfete, passed by in the press
and hurry of Il commercial age. That
is why | hate the insolent roturter
brood that have battened in the sun
shine of imperial favor; the stock-job-
bers and gamblers, corrupt to the core,
and swelling with pride in their dirty
gold. My grandfather was a gentle
man and a soldier: he fought for his
king till the last ray of hope had faded.
And when his faithful little band of
ChOuanS were scattered or slain, and
he had escaped by the skin of his teeth
from being shot down by the Blues,
he shut himself up in the old stone
tower Of his chateau, and lived among
peasants, us peasants live, and let his
son and daughter run wild. Ny father
was very little in advance of his
fathers farm-laborerS in education or
manners, when he entered the army,
a Lao of fifteen, soon after the restOra-
ton of the BourbOns. But he was one
of the handsOmest men of his day. He
had good blood in his veins; and it
seems somehow that race will tell. for
twenty years later he was one of the
finest soldiers in the French army. He
married 4 rich wife, loved her passion
ately, spent all her money ruined her
life, and died broken-hearted and
pauper within a year of her death,
leaving me to face the world, penniless
and with very few friends, at twelve
years of age. The Empire was then in
its golden dawn. One of my first men,
cries is of the Coup d'Etat, that awful
night of the second of December when
the bullets whistled along the Boule-
ward Poissonniere, like the hailstones
in a summer storm, and the terrified
wondering bourgeois were mown down
like ears of corn.
My father was at the head of his regi-
ment that night; and my mother and
/ were looking down upon the scene
from our apartment at corner of the
boulevard. Two years later L was an
orphan"
20, what hard childhood and youth
you must have hadr' said Kathleen
full of pity.
Not harder than yours, little one,
You and the sister have not had too