Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1893-03-12
FORGIVEN.

All the people in the house-a great bee
hive Of workmen-situated in the Rue
Delambre, where Tony Robec had occupied
a room for six months, took him for a wild.
over lately bereaved, for his little son
with whom he lived alone, small child,
dressed as nicely as though he had a mother,
was hardly 9 years old. However, neither
the father nor the son wore any Grape either
on their caps or sleeves.
Every day, early in the morning, Tony
Robec, who worked as a typesetter in a
printing shop in the Latin quarter, went off
with his little Adrien, still half asleep, on
his shoulder, and would leave him at a
school in the neighborhood, where, after his
days work was done, he would call for him,
and leading the little fellow by the hand
would stop at the butchers and milkman's
and take home in the child's schoolbasket,
just as a woman would have done, what
was necessary for their dinner, and then
would shut himself up in his room till the
next day
The tender hearted gossips of the house
pitied the poor father, who was still fine
booking man scarcely 40 years old, but
with such a sad, pale face, his beard al
ready streaked with gray and his earnest
eyes looking like those of lion in repose,
and they said as they looked after him:
THAT man ought to marry again. Heis
good fellow and never drinks He could
easily find a nice girl to take care of him
and his son. Have you noticed how clean
he keeps the little boy2 Never hole or a
spot on his clothes He is an orderly man.
You can see it at once, and IL seems he earns
10 francs day"
They would have liked TO have made his
acquaintance. Generally it is not difficult
to make friends with ones neighbors in
these popular houses, where they live half
the time with their doors open. But Tony
had reserved air, a polite way OF bowling
10 them on the stairway which inundated
them.
Every Sunday the father and son, clean as
two new pennies, went for a walk. They had
met them in the museums in the Jardin des
Plantes. They had also seen them before
dinner time in little cafe Of the quarter,
where Tony treated himself to his sole lux
ury in the week glass of absinthe, which
he drank slowly, while Adrien, seated by
his side on leather covered bench, looked
at the illustrapd papers.
No, mesdames," said the concierge of
the house, who was sentimental, to her
again. A Sunday or two ago | met him in
one Of the paths of the Montparnasse Gem
etery His wife no doubt is buried there.
1t made me sad to see him with his moth
erless child. He must have adored his lost
one. 1t is rare, but there are some like
that; he is inconsolable"
Alas yes. Tony Robec had loved his
wife deeply and could not be consoled for
her loss; only he was not a widower.
His history was very simple and not a
happy one. He was a conscientious work
man, but only moderately clever at his
trade, and it was not before a long time
that he had succeeded in setting type well
and in earning his livelihood in a small
way, and that was the reason why he never
had thought Of marrying until he was over
30 years Of age. He should have chosen a
serious minded girl, acquainted with pow
erty, as he had been himself But love
laughs at reason, and Tony lost his heart to
young flower girl 10 years old, who, al
though she was virtuous, had a very frivo-
lous character, thinking only of dress and
knowing how to make herself look like
little princess with her lovely face, few
bits Of ribbon and some bright colored stuff.
He had put by small amount of money,
sufficient to furnish wee apartment quite
well, and besides the usual necessary furni-
ture he bought wardrobe with looking
glass in it for so francs in the Faubourg
Saint Antoine in order that his sweetheart
could see herself in it full length, and then
he married his Clemantine, and at first
they were blissfully happy How they did
love each other, to be surel
They have two rooms in the fifth story in
house on the Boulevard Port Royal, with
small balcony and view over all Paris.
Every evening when he left his printing
house, situated on the left bank Of the
Seine, Tony Robec, with his overcoat hiding
his workman's blouse looking quite like "a
gentleman, would go to the corner of the
bridge of Saint Peres to wait for his little
wife, who would come from the Rue Saint
Honore, where her workshop was, and arm
in arm, close together, they would hurry to
their distant home to eat their merry even
ing meal.
But their Sundays, above all, were delight
full. They were 80 happy at home they did
not go out. Oh, their breakfasts in sum-
mer, with the windows open looking out
over the great city and the blue sky, how
good they were! While he was slipping his
coffee and smoking his cigarette Cleman-
tine would go to water the flower pots on
the balcony. "She is too clever" he would
say to himself, and then would get up
from his chair softly and surprise her by
kissing her on the back Of her neck. will
you never have done, you silly fellowi" she
would say laughingly.
And then in due time child was born,
their little Felix, whom they put out to
nurse at Margency, where they would go to
see him every two weeks. But he died
when he was a year old Of commissions.
However, they were soon consoled by Adri-
ems birth, whom the mother wished to
keep with her, and so she left her work
shop and took in work at home, earning
only about half as much, but managing all
the same to dress herself prettily, and
would play the lady in the Luxembourg
gardens, rolling her baby before her in a
little straw carriage.
But, although Tony toiled four times
harder than ever, working besides in a
nezsnaner nfIice at mint he cnuld not