The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1895-01-20
HER WEDDING RING.

In the house, big hive of work people,
situated in the rue Delambre, where for
six months Tony Robec had occupied a
room, every one thought that he was a
widower.
He could not have been a widower very
long, for his little boy, Adrien, who lived
with him, and who was always well cared
for, was not more than years old.
Yet neither of them wore mourning.
Early one day Tony Robec, who was en-
ployed as compositor in printing-house
in the Quarter Latin, left his room with
the child, still half asleep, on his shoulder.
He left the little one at school, and called
for him again at night when returning
from work.
The kind-hearted gossips were full of pity
for the poor fellow. He couldn't be more
than 40 and was still good-looking, al
though sad and pale, and with silver
streaks in his black beard Behind his
back they said: THAT man ought to
marry again"
They wished to make his acquaintance.
Generally this is not difficult in such a
house, where the tenants live with open
doors. But Tony had very reserved
manner, and they were afraid to approach
him.
"No, ladies'" said the doorkeeper, who
was inclined to be sentimental, THAT
widower viii never marry again, mark my
words. The other Sunday | passed him in
the cemetery at Montparnasse. His wife
is doubtless buried there. 1t cut me to the
heart to see the poor man with the mother
less little chap at his side. He must have
dotted on his wife"
But he was not a widower.
His life had been simple, but not by any
means happy. Although a conscientious
workman, he was not particul arly good at
his trade, and, therefore, until he was so
he had not succeeded in making tolerably
good living, and could not think of marry
ing.
When he did resolve to marry, he ought
to have chosen a sensible, economical
wife, who had known want as he had. But
love does not occupy itself with such
trifes.
Tony lost his head over pretty, light
minded light-hearted flower-girl of 19,
honest, doubtless, but frivolous, and think
ing more of her toilet than anything else
under the sun.
They were married, and at first lived
very happily. They had two modest
rooms on the fifth floor of a house in the
Boulevard de Port Royal with little bal
cony, from which they had bird 's-eye
view of Paris.
Every night, on leaving work, Tony
under a smart Overcoat and waited for his
wife, who presently appeared from her lit
tie booth in the Saint-Honore, and arm in
arm they returned to their humble home.
At last son was born and put out to
nurse. The parents went to see him once
a fortnight. But at the end of the year the
child died of commissions.
The parents were, however, soon after
ward consoled by the birth of little Adrien.
Having had such sad experience, Clemen-
tine resolved to bring up the child herself
and gave up her little shop in order to be
able to attend to her baby.
She took in work, but did not make
more than half of what she had previously
earned. Nevertheless, she continued to
dress well.
In vain did Tony work desperately; the
household became embarrassed and stepped
in debt.
One evening, when Tony entered the
house with the child, whom he had picked
up at the asylum as he had passed, he
found an envelope on the mantelpiece,
from which, when he opened it, fell Glenn
entine's wedding ring. In the letter she
bade good-by to her husband and child,
and begged their forgiveness.
Toward the end of September he re-
ceived a letter from his wife-four incoher-
ent and desperate,,pages plentifully washed
with tears-in which she announced that
she had repented and implored pardon.
This was all very painful for Tony, but he
was proud, and the letter remained unan-
swered.
He heard no more from Clementine. On
Christmas eve he went as was his custom,
to the cemetery at Montparnasse, there to
place on the grave of his dead child a few
frozen violets and roses.
For the first time Tony went alone with
the child, and strange as it may seem, on
entering the cemetery he suffered more
poignantly than ever before from the alb
sence of that wife who had so cruelty de-
ceived him.
On arriving at the grave he started, for
at the foot OF it were strewn several little
playthings such as the poor give to their
children-a trumpet, jack-in-th and
whistle They had evidently just been
placed there, for they were quite new.
''t h, what pretty playthings" cried lit
tie Adrien excited1y.. But his father, hav-
ing detected scrap of paper pinned to one
of the toys, opened it and read: ''For
Adrien, from his brother Felix, who is now
with the child Christ"
Suddenly he found the boy pressing
against him and murmuring Mamma"
There, only few PAGES away, under
clump of cypress-trees, knelt the mother.
She was clad in a wretched dress and
thin shawl. Her eyes were sunken and
her cheeks hollow and pale. She was look
ing at her husband, and her clasped hands
were stretched toward him in supplcation.
Tony pushed the boy gently toward her,
saying, 'Adrien, 60 kiss your mother"
The poor creature strained the boy con-
vulsively to her breast and covered him
with kisses. Then rising and turning to-
ward her husband, but always with the air
of supphant, she said Chow good OF
your
But he, already at her side, said huskily,
almost sharply, Don't talk. Take my
arm"
1t is not far from the cemetery to the rue
Delambre, and they walked quickly and
without uttering a word. The child, en-
crossed in his newly found treasure, trotted
along at their side, thinking only of his
toys.
When they reached the house the house
keeper was standing on the steps.
madame" said Tony to her, ''this is
my wife. She has been six months in the
country with her mother, who was i'll, and
now she comes back to live with me-"
When they reached the room Tony made
his wife sit down on the only arm chair,
placed the boy on her lap and opened
drawer, from which he took an old card
board box Out of this he took the we'd
ding ring, which he pressed on his wife's
finger.
Then without a word of reproach or Bit