Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1894-07-11

oXpeCIG1 1t-t LIGdktaSt my father anC
my mother, who lived three leagues
from Chauiy, at Blerancourt Every
time they came they were late, because
the route acrCss the prairie of Mani.
camp was so bad, SO bad that people
told the children the following story: A
COW had fallen III one of the ruts, and
the hcrder, who was always searching
for her with his whip handle, could
never find her again.
| was hungry, and at each moment ]
ran to the front door, I held onto the
doorpost and leaned outside. was a
little afraid. The front stairs seemed t.
me SO high with their four steps, but
then [ thonght I would be very useful
to the kitchen if I could cry out at the
first glimpse of them, There they arer'
I was extremely restless 1 even fell
once, to the great fright Of Arthemise
who feared for my pretty dress. Finally
nay parents arrived.
They told great story which I do
not now remember. The carriage and
the horses were covered with mud. Ny
papa and MY mamma said that the road
was bad, a thing which impressed me.
Ny mother wore six dress, very much
looped up and very much hidden under
her shawls. I can yet see her unfold her
jupe and shake it. help her by beating
the silk, and l repeat with admiration,
Mamma is pretty!'
My father takes me up and puts my
head upon his shoulder. He has tears in
his eyes My mother takes me in her
turn, and she cries also.
sit is a long time since we have seen
you," says my father, ''a very long
time.
''Oh, yes, long time!' repeats my
mother.
am looking for that long time, and l
do not find it. My grandmother an
swers:
ooh, no, not a very long time, two
months.
And l am more contented.
We are sitting down to breakfast
My grandfather tells some things at
which everybody laughs, but am think
ing already that the gayety will not
last. that my mother will begin again
to cry in a moment, and that the days
when my parents from Blerancourt are
present are always sad on account of
me. / well know why I have a story,
and l tell it when I am asked for it:
my grandmother took me from my
mother when I was months old She
stole me. Then I made 80 leagues in
the stagecoach. 1t was when I was very
little, and that is all - All Chauny has
made me tell that story. All Chauny
likes to question me because I began to
speak very early and without the Picar.
dy accent. They think that l am little
Partisan, and tl!is title Of Partisan
which they give nc runs through my
head increasingly. It appears to me syn
onymous with queen. Ny father sud
denly says:
''This time we shall take Juliette
home with u.s.
st shall keep her," answers my
grandmother.
''It is ovcr two years that you have
kept her from Us. want her, adds my
mother. "If J1liette had a brother or
sister, would give her to you, assure
you"
"Why has she neither brother no1
sister?'' asked my grandfather, with
smile ''Is it our fault:?''
7, too, ask myself why I have not
little brother CT d little sister. I tell
myself my grandmother is right, and
that my parents from Blerancourt are
wrong.
you must give Juliettc back to us, ,
says my father again.
"No, neverr' answers my grand
father. .
Then begins a scene which has been
renewed during my whole childhood,
in which they Cry out sharply; in which
they pull NE first to one side, then tG
the other; i'll which they kiss he, with
faces all wet; i'll which they grow angry
and scold; ill which they make me
idiotic by asking me:
"Will you come with us?:' "Will
you remain with us?''
answer, crying, having no idea OF
my cruelty toward my father and moth
er: 81 want my grandmother! I want
Arthemise and my grandfather
On that day, as very often afterward,
my parents yield-they become ap-
peased. My grandmother, by force of
tenderness, obtains from them the con-
cession that they will leave me at
Chauny. My father repeats to me a
hundred times:
"Do you love your papa and man.
map
Eyes, yes, yes. :"
My grandmother adds:
1--WE must begin her education, which
can only be done at Chauny. She shall
60 to the boarding school tomorrow.
My mother puts Oh her hat, my ia
ther wraps her in her shawls, they enter
the carriage and l send them some
kisses ON the tips of my fingers
The next morning | am awakened
early. I am still very sleepy. That
which, when very little, according to
the expression of my grandfather, l
called 'the family DRAMA" has fa-
tigued me-
AS it is my habit, in the large salon
with four windows, which my first rec
objections paint to me as immense, and
which since then has grown good deal
smaller, l am seated near the fire be-
tween my grandfather and my grand
mother, Or going from the knees Of the
one to the knees of the other. Arthe-
mise is standing up, and my dresses are
spread out upon a chair. They dress
me after having washed me-a thing
which I do not like much, although it
is a small matter-a little on the face
and the hands, and even then my grand
father says to my nurse:
''Let her alone You will make PIN
pies come to her face
Instead of my pretty white dress of
the evening before, they have put on
me dark one. My white apron is Gov
cred all over by a>black apron. I find
that I am not pretty, and I feel sad.
My grandfather says:
"Poor, good little womann'
I burst into sobs. l know well enough
what boarding school is. l haye some
large friends who go there. might be
proud Of it, but l am not. l am afraid.
I repeat through my tears: "Grand-
mother I will be good. l do not want
to go to boarding school. Keep me