Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1894-08-28

sunshine kissed Ii l put these robes
upon her, she will look like une grande
dame fit for monsieur's brush. She will
be fresh like the rose and as beautiful.
She shall be monsieur's model, and l
will make his fortune. -
That night, then, the sausage vender
took in his stand. Annette, free at last,
slipped across the road, and the old
madame robed the girl in the grand tot
let and fastened her soft, fluffy curls in
knot high on her head with quaint
tortoise shell comb Wrapped in cloaks,
tho two stole down the street and enter
ed the tall building. They threaded
their way among the dusty bags, scar
ing the silvery coated mice, and climb
ed the stairs to the artists studio.
When his eyes fell upon the vision of
loneliness madame presented to him,
they shone with new light. Love?
Well, part love and part artistic rap
ture, but in either case Annette was
the cause. The little Frenchwoman
elapped her hands and laughed joyfully.
Always during the sittings madame
sat deoorously by, knitting industrious
ly, but keeping sharp eye out, as be-
came chaperon. Not the slightest
symptom of lovemaking escaped her.
The portrait grew beneath the brush as
if the very fairy of good luck had lent
her spell to the artist. Never had his
palette glowed with such colors, nor
had such hitherto impossible tints bios
somed forth. Every detail Of the fresh
young face became familiar to him un-
til at last from the canvas looked forth
the sausage vender's daughter in the
grand DANES robes as beautiful as the
proudest lady in the land.
II can do no more, f" sighed the art
list. Then madame arose. and taking the
girl by the hand led her toward the
door. Monsieur has no longer need of
us, she exclaimed. "Adieu!'
But the artist would not have it SO.
He pushed past the old Frenchwoman
and stood before the girl.
II love you, Annette" he cried.
"Will you not marry me?"
Tut, tut, said madame. "You must
first speak to M. Laubeau. We will
have no bold American manners here.
If he consents, then Annette may think
Of you. Come. Annette"
It was indeed true that the little ma
dame had brought good luck to the poor
artist. The portrait was sent to q pic
ture dealer. In less than week it was
sold, and orders had come through the
dealer enough to set the artist busy. He
went to thank the old Frenchwoman.
"The good people like something
fresh" said the madame. Monsieur
might have sat in his garnet and pinned
and been melancholy till he died. Good
luck would have none Of him. One
must be brave and smile to win for
tune"
IT owe everything to you," said the
grateful young man.
"Ah, truey' returned madame non
chantly, shut, tell me, have you yet
won M. Laubeau's CONSENT"
"Alas, he refuses me Annette's hand!
He will give me no reason"
"We must learn" said the madame,
and leaning far out Of the window Of
her tiny shop she beckoned frantically
to the sausage vender across the road.
He came, followed by Annette.
"Why is it M. Laubeau refused his
daughter to the young monsieur who
loves her truly?" inquired the French
woman.
IT could not get on without An
nette," grumbled the old man. "There
would be none to cry hot sausages"
True, true" said madame, "but
must the young people be unhappy for
this?"
IT am DID," continued the sausage
vender, land have but Annette. If I
yield her to the young monsieur, who
will care for me?''
"Let me think" said the little
Frenchwoman. "Ah, I have it'll Ills
said only the young should wed, but l
say tits we'll to be comfortable in one S
old age, and a companion is needful. If
M. Laubeau wishes it, will reconsider
the proposal he made me years ago. He
shall fetch the sausage stand across the
road and set it herein front Of my
shop. The priest shall make us one, and
I myself will cry hot sausages!"-
Mary E. Stone Bassett in Kate Field 3
Washington.