Elmore bulletin. [volume] (Rocky Bar, Idaho) 1889-1906, 1893-11-04

ters Of lilscs and roses that had always
bought there.
"No, mademoiselle,' said |, 1T is
cluster for the corsage, II You please,
this EVENING"
"'Ahr
"She regarded me smilingly. her soft,
frank eyes turning from side to side,
seeking another cluster of flowers. See,
monsieur, how is thisy
"a little large--is 1t nots mademoi-
pelle, said |. in truth caring nothing for
the size Of the bunch, but seized with
desire to linger indefinitely in that bower
Of verdure. become all at once para
dise--of green, red and white.
"And when that pretty young girl. ali
in black and so pale and amiable, said
so gently. placing the cluster against the
bosom Of her own robe, oh, no, mon.
sieur, ii is not, you see, too Target |
could scarcely restrain myself from cry.
ing aloud: Keep II there, mademoiselle.
beseech you. An honest bouquet from
the hand of an honest girl! 1t goes no
well with your manner, modest and
goodr
''She would have found too odd this
profession Of faith. | took my flowers.
therefore, and went my way, but Mile.
Bertha, when arrived. Lad already pro
vided herself with a corsage cluster:
"'Being unable to count upon yours,
said she calmly, carelessly throwing
upon table the one had brought her
80 much the better-l would utilize
il myself. and the single blossom | took
from the heap and pinned in my button.
hole lay upon my breast and kept my
heart warm during the whole Of that in
terminable dinner.
THAT beastly dinner, during which il
seemed to me that the little Augele be-
side me played n pointless role and saw
opposite to me perpetually the Madonna
profile and the serious air OF my little
flower girl. She it was that should have
been the fiancee. The fianceel Surely,
IL the word had color, that color would
be white, all white, like the rose on my
breast.
The denouement, the denouement
wait, it approaches.
"Gradually, as Ifrequented that white
aud gilt salon the little Bertha made me
afraid, yes, actually afraid. And like
wise, as frequented my florists shop
told myself that 1t was there should
find the companion, tine friend, the true
associate in happiness or pain!
THAT charming child Poor, it was
true; doubtless an orphan. living alone
and possibly destined to marry some
,hopinan or railroad employee, or To
turn-as turned to the wind of Paris
all those horneless beings who had no
support. How good it would be to draw
that child from this risk by drawing her
from the condition itself, by-making
her my mistress, you say? No, no,
wear it. swear that never thought
uf it.
My wife, then? All, If only | hsd
laredl And while not daring, slowly,
gently, politely, detached myself from
Nile. Bertha Briyard-I had nearly said
Of the Bouffes Parisiennes. | left her to
her father. her white and gilt salon and
her gay "Remontoir." | sought delays,
pretexts, excuses. In short, when one
evening NJ. Bergeot said to me plumply,
We can no longer leave my friend
Brivard with his nose in the water
great naturalists. these notaries; is ii Il
be yes or nor this time, my faith, an
swered;
'Eh. bieni No, then! am not
made for marry;ngr
And | did not, as usual, set out for
the Brivard domicile. All the same, the
same evening saw me at my florist
shop. In place OF my little flower CIR
there stood another one; this one red
headed, pretty also and also polite, but
she was not the one sought. She, they
/ told me, had gone away TO relations in
+ Bourgogne. They had recalled her tc
marry her. To what soti To what beef
J kegS To what vine dresser? I know
nothing-I shall never know anything.
"0f my little brown flower maid
never had known anything-her name
her age, her life. Nothing, nothing
whatever, save that she was ravishingly
pretty, with IN honest air, deep eyes,
and that she handed me bouquets oi
lilacs and roses with q hand white and
nave supplicated her TO give me, and
which, at all events. hindered me from
taking another.
"Behold my adventure. A very sim
pile one-eh, bienl yes; but have never
in my life had q more agreeable one. Il
seems to me that have gathered in tn,
midst OF our hothouse existence fowel
of the fields, whose perfume have still
on my fingers, It's sweet odor still in m,
no1tTils.
"Ah! | grow elegiac; but God blesl
her, wherever she be, my little brow
flower maid, who, compared TO my coco
dette of the Boulevard Malesherbes, wa
like rose on green stem beside tulil
on wire one.
Mile. Brivard, by the way, marrie
tomorrow young and shillfnl financier
who has found way to shape fortun
that has ruined others: they will be yer.
happy.
"As for ne, depart this evening 70
Monaco have lost my little fiowe
maid. but shall perhaps win at roulett
--unlucky at love. etc.-Translated frou
the French of Jules Clareti by Z. {
Waggener for Short Stories.
/ |
way fAs Little hoy Was Crying.
Marshall p. Wilder, the humorisi
tells this story: Some people think the
haven't got much to be thankful fol
but they might at least be grateful tina