Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1894-02-16
CHAPTER XII.
FOUND.

a city in the tropics. Thick white mists rose
from the boulevards and clouded the even
ing air. The stones in the courtyards of
hotels and great houses were baked in the
sunshine. The very sound of water splash
ing upon the hot streets was rapture. The
atmosphere was heavy with heat; and it
seemed as if the low thunder-charged sky
were cast-iron dome which rooted In the
city and suburbs.
That city, once called beautiful, still wore
the aspect of devastation. The ruined houses
still gave forth an odor of smoke and burn
ing. The fierce meridian sun drew out the
stencil of charred wood. On every side were
the signs and tokens of destruction. On
every side one heard of loss, and sorrow,
and death.
The herd Of tourists went tramping
through the city, staring, gaping, expatiat-
Ing on the spectacle-disappointe some
what that things were no worse. They had
expected to find Babylon heap; and here
were her palaces and churches still stand
ing, her spires and pnnacles still pointing
heavenward, her domes glittering against
the hot blue sky. The tourists were disllu-
sionised, and felt they were getting very
little for their money.
anarchy had left them; but here and there
the work of reparation had begun. Trade
was reyiving. The markets had resumed
their normal aspect and food was TO be had
at the old prices. The theaters were begin
ming to reopen their doors. Restaurants and
cafes had smartened themselves up TO ac-
commodate floating population of travel
ers, taking this desOlated Babylon on their
30 fai,. tl.. III 81
teaspoons and the clash of glasses were
heard on the boulevard. The pettts ereUes,
the cOcOdettcs, had emerged from retire
ment, or had come back from exile. Paris
was Paris again; but sorely impoverished,
somewhat Inundated Paris.
Kathleen's life pursued its beaten round
all this time. The oppressive heat of those
August days did not deter her from her la
Dor. Every morning before the shops were
opened she was in the streets, neatly clad
in her black gown and close black bonnet,
little market-basket on her arm, as of one
who went upon a housewives errand. In
the dim early morning she walked TO her
destination-one of those two hundred and
thirty-two workshops which she had writ
ten down in her hist. Some of these were
in the remotest corners of Paris, and many
of her morning walks were long and weary !;
but she was careful to allow herself ample
time for these long distances. She always
studied her map overnight and learned the
names of the streets by which she had TO go.
She was thoroughly systematic in her work |;
and she had by this time acquired wonder
full experiences in finding her way, wonder
ful knowledse of the great widc-spreading
town. 1t seemed to her as if there were not
corner Of Paris, not nook or an alley.
which she had not explored.
Sometimes her destination was some foul
smelling lane at Bellevile, some dingy
street near Montmartre. She went as far as
Vincennes on one side, beyond Passy on the
other. But whatever the distance, she went
to her work with the same quiet patience,
the same tranquil aspect. Nobody ever re-
marked her as an eccentric-looking person !;
no one ever saw wildness or eXaltation in
her manner. She walked quietly onward,
Mt moderate business-like pace, her little
basket over her arm; her pale earnest face
shaded by the neat little Grape veil, tied
closely round the small black bonnet; and
she inspired no ones wonder or curiosity.
A clerks wife, catering for her little house
hold; sempstress going TO her work. She
might be either.
When she reached her destination, and
stood in front of the curriers' workshop, her
task became more difficult. She watched
for the going and coming of the worl1men
at their breabfast-hour, between nine and
ten O'Clock. She had TO observe without be-
ing observed. She hovered nearthe door of
tho restaurant where they took their sollpe
az .fromGge She had to loiter in the
street or the lane, without appearing TO be
loiterer. This exacted all her powers as
an actress; but, as every intelligent woman
ia instinctively an actress, she contrived to
perform this part other task so sklfully as
TO escape, for the most part, unquestioned
and unremarked.
IL there were shops in the street all her
little purchases for that humble menace,
which was not much better than genteel
starvation, were made upon the spot This
gave her the opportunity of wasting time,
and Of making inquiries. 1t was so easy
while buying pear or a handful of plums
at the little fruit-shop, or roll at the
bakers, to ask a few questions, in mere idle
curiosity as it seemed, about the curriers'
on the other side of the way. Was IL a small
or large trade, for instance? How many
workmen were employed-and what kind
OF men? Then IL the shopkeeper was inelin-
ed to gossip, and was friendly, she could
watch the men go TO their work from the
threshold Of his shop, and hear his remarks
upon them, and be sure that she saw the full
complement employed there.
Now and again 1t happened that q work
man was i'll, or drunk, or idle, and did not
go to his work; and then, after ascertain
ing this fact she had TO come back to the
same spot again, once, twice, thrice even,
to make sure of that one Grant workman.
For the man she wanted was one man
among all the curriers' of Paris, and to let
one escape her might be TO lose him.
She hunted her prey with the tenacity of
Red Indian.
The work was very slow work. August
was nearly over, and she had not completed
the third partof herlist The curriers' shops
were scattered. 1t was rarely that she could
do more than two in day-one In tho
morning, when the men went to their work
one in the evening, when they left work.
She was getting to be curiousy familiar
with the curriers' Of Paris, their ways and
their manners; the restaurants where they
dinQd or summed late In the evening at long