The morning call., 1893-04-26
CORNILLE'S SECRET

FraIeet Mamai, an old French fife-p aver
related the following little village drama
the other day as q true story of his native
province.
Our district has not always been the sleepy
place it is now. All round the village the
| hills were once alive with windmills to
| which. from two leagues round, the farmers
brought their wheat. Right and left you
saw nothing but the sails of the mills flying
round in the breeze. Unfortunately some
! Parislans took it into their heads to estab-
fish steam mill on the Taraseon road and
the farmers soon learned to send their
wheat there. while the poor windmills were
left without work. They tried to hold their
own, but steam was too strong for them
and one after another they were obliged to
close down. Then one fine day the city
fathers ordered them 10 be destroyed and
vines an olives planted in their places.
Maitre Cornille was an old miller who
for sixty years had been devoted to his call
ing. The establishment of the new mill rem
| dered him almost crazy. Those brigands
MAKE bread with steam, an invention of the
| DEVIL" he would cry. while | use wind,
| which is the breath Of heaven" Butno one
| listened to him.
Then in despair the old man shut him.
! self up in his room and lived like a wild
| animal. He would not even keep ViVette,
| his granddaughter. girl 10 years old, who
| since her parents death had no one but
Maitre Cornille in the world. The poor
thing was obliged to earn her living by
/ working out, now here and now there, as
| the farmers happened to want help. Yet
| her grandfather seemed to love the child
| ara often walked four leagues in the hot
| sun TO visit her.
| The people of the village thought that the
| old man had been actuated by aVarice in
sending away NiVette, and respected him
| very little accordingly. Indeed, they re-
| GREETED that a man like Maitre CoruiIIe
who had always hitherto been esteemed,
| should now 20 about the streets like an old
| beggar, baTe-fOoted. his cap i'll holes and
| his clothes in rags. The fact is that on
| Sunday when we saw him come TO mass we
| were ashamed of him, and COrnille was so
well aware OF it that he always remained at
the back OF the church, among the poor.
There was some mystery in tho life of
| Maitre Cornille. 1t was long time since
| any one had taken him wheat to grind, and
| yet the sails of his windmill turned Just the
| same. III the evening he was often met
| driving his mule laden with big sacks of
| flour. Good day, Maitre COrnIlle," cried
| the peasants. Does your work go OIL
| always?"
Always my children" ths old man
would reply, gayly. Thank God, [ am
never in want Of work"
Then if any one asked him where in the
world all this work came from, he would
put finger on his lips and reply grayelv.
Il am in the eX Ort business" and
they could never get any more information
from him.
As for putting ones nose into his mill, it
was not to be thought of; even Viyet.e
never entered When people passed by the
door was always closed and the great sails
continually in movement, while the old
mule browsed the grass of the platform,
and thin cat summed itself on the window
sill.
All this saYored of mystery and made peo-
pie GOSSIP each one explaining in his own
fashion the secret of Maitre COrnille, but
the rumor ran that in the mill were to
be found even more sacks OF gold pieces
than of flour.
However, everything was discovered and
IN the following manner.
One day, while playing my flute for the
young people TO dance, l perceived that my
eldest son and little Vivette were in love
with one another. This did not dispiease
me It all, but thinking it better to come 10
some arrangement on the subject, l wentup
to the mill for word or two with Viyette's
grandfather.
All! the old wretch, you should have seen
now he received me-. 1t was impossible o
make him open the door, so | had 10 px-
plain my errand through the keyhule He
did not even give me time to finish but
called out that | had better return to nv
flute, ana il we're in such a hurry to get
my son married might advertise for wife.
on can imagine what a rage | was in,
but all the same | had enough sense not to
show 1t, and leaving the old fool to his mill,
went back 10 describe my reception 10 the
lovers. The poor lambs would scarcely be-
beve 1t, and begged me to let them 90 TO-
gether TO the mill and interview Viyette's
grandfather.
When they reached the place Maiire
Cornllie had just gone out. The door was
double locked. but the old man had | eft
his ladder outside and the children de-
termlned to enter by the window and see
what was inside this famous mill.
Strange, the place was en- pty-nOt sack,
not grain OF wheat, not even a speck OF
flour on the walls nor on the spiders webs.
The milestone was covered with dust. and
the thin cat was asleep on it.
Inc room downstairs had the same air of
wretchedness-an old bed. n few rags a
morsel OF bread on one of the stairs. And
then IN one corner there were four torn
sacks filled with white sand.
That was Matre Cornille's secret, II was
TINS rubbish that he had carried about he
roads to save the honor of his mill and de-
celye people into thinking that he still had
wheat to grind. Poor Cornille! The steam
mill had long ago taken away his last
customer
The children came back in tears 10 tell
me what they had seen. Without waiting a
moment l ran to the neichbors and ex.
planned the matter to them in two words.
We agreed at once to carry to COrnilIe's
mill all the wheat that was in the houses
No sooner said than done. All the village
set out. and we arrived. with a procession of
mules laden with grain, real grain this time.
The mill was wide open. Before the door
Maitre CGrnllle, seated on a sack of sand.
was sObbing, with his face hidden in his
hands. He had Just perceived that during
his absence some one had penetrated into
his house and surprised his sad secret
Alasi lie mOaDed NOW I haxyn pNtb
ing left but 10 die. Tie mill Is dishon-
oIed. and he wept as If his heart were
breaking, calling his mill by ali sorts of
names, as if 1t had been living person.
AT this moment the mules arrived on the
platform and we all called out very loudly.
mil ahOy! Ohol Maitre Cornille! I" inst
as In the prosperous days of windmiils;
and the sacks were piled up before the
door. while the golden grain fell down on
all sides.
Maitre COrnille opened his eyes. He took
some wheat in the hollow of his aged hand.
and exclaimed, laughing and crying at the
same time, 1T is grain! My Godl good
grain! Then turning toward US, "Ah, |
knew you would come back to me all those
steam millers are robbers" We wanted TO
carry him back in triumph to the village.
mo. my children, before ANYTHING else
must give food TO my mill Think how long
it has been without even a grain OF corn"
And we all had tears in our eyes as wa
watched the poor old man, hurryinE back
ward and forward, opening the sacks and
inspecting the machinery. while the wheat
was ground and the fine flour dust rose To
the roof.
l must do ourselves the justice to saw that
from that day we never let the old miller
want for work.
Then one fine morning Maitre Cornille
died, and the sails of our last windmill
censed TO turn.