The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1895-04-10
JUSTINE AND LOVER.

Win MS SOn III his uOuSo UulIG O1 IoouS
and stones ny the roadside under the
hill overlooking the far-off little town.
He was the owner of rich lands planted
with vines, both on the hillside and in
the plain. Only on rare occasions he
quilted his own paths to climb into the
mountain woods to shoot the hare or
gather mushrooms and salads.
Persons sometimes came to see him,
mostly on the eve of the vintage, to
treat for the purchase of the fruit, which
he sold on the vines for ready money,
and on no other terms. At these times,
after business he would invite the deal
ers or his comrades to drink bottle of
wine over which he would gravely talk
about the doings of his youth. his health,
all the while laughing the laugh of the
master, sitting at his door in the sun, his
fowls picking and scratching in the
straw and dust around him.
His son Michel resembled him closely
blond, square-shouldered, with beard
and hair tufted like the brambles in a
ravine.
The old man was becoming grey, and
bushy eyebrows protected his keen lit
sion when, at the close of the day, he
trembling sea of darkness overspread
the plain. He was miser. He mend
ed his own clothes, repaired his own
plows, replastered the worn-out wallis
of his house and trimmed the hedges on
his domain. He and his son. without
any beast of burden to help them, did
all the work. They dug deep. and
opened out their cultures to the sun
-I hot
vines were the best in the country. They
never Quilted them-neVer ceased think
ing of them day and night, and SO lived
by them.
Roch took pleasure in this kind of
existence. He loved money-religious-
ly, with all his strength. He hungered
for gold, that he might handle it, i'm
bibe its powers, hide it in corners, at
the foot of trees, under heaps of rocks.
On sunny Sundays he collected his
fortune from its hiding-places and
heaped it on his table in front of his
door, in the midst of his fowls, alone, and
counted his silver and gold pieces, max
ing them glitter in the sunlight and fall
through his horny fingers in q clatter-
ing shower.
Near him, within instant reach, he
had his double-barreled gun, and he
laughed and fed his eyes with his large
fortune. A glory sang within him, he
swelled with the pride of being rich.
He thought of Michel, of the happiness
which this treasure, amassed with so
much fervor and patience, would give
him at some future time, when he would
no longer be there. As ease in his
solitude, he gave himself up to this en-
joyment; he enjoyed his lands, still full
of riches, while his son down yonder.
behind the trees, dug bravely at the foot
| of vine.
Then suddenly overtaken by terror,
he hurriedly returned his gold to q
canvas bag and bore it away, made a
fresh hole in the ground, no matter
where. sometimes in the most open and
noticeable spots, SO as to ward off
suspicion. And when he had thus buried
his treasure the old man stood power
less, oppressed with remorse, as If he
bad buried his happiness. his ewes Loaf
! in ecstasy; he planted himself for mo-
ment before his cottage. lifted his eyes
toward the blue sky, scanned the high
road along which were passing the dull
and Indifferent wagoners, he looked for
his son, still working yonder behind the
! trees.
When he retured to labor and health
the Joy of the soul came back to him
abund unity. Yet he was pursued by
an anxiety, miser's care, a peasants
! pride in his lands. After him what
would become of the patrimonyP He
had confidence in his son, who re-
sembled him; but his son would not
remain alone. He ought to be married
already. And the young wife and new
relatives would, perhaps, destroy the
order and prosperity of his possessions
He would himself choose a wife for his
| son.
Michel bowed humbly before his
father, whom he regarded as a superior
being, since. out of nothing, from the
depths of poverty. Roch had raised HIM
self to opulence. They went forth to-
gether at dawn one Sunday in Spring.
The clear sky hung over all like robe
of Innocence. Fresh voices murmured
| in the solitude.
"We will not go into the town." said
the old man. ave shall not find there
what we want; the girls there are too
fond of luxury and amusements. Let
us try what we may see in the villages. 3"
Michel tired of these proceedings after
d"uIl6. NOue VI Gue RLIlS PlodScu HILL
He thought them all too much dressed
up and too forward in their bearing.
The father grumbled at the young mans
i'll humor and exaction.
On the farther side of the mountain.
on the border of torrent and shadowed
by trees. stood farmhouse. poor and
isolated, the only house to which
Michel sometimes paid visit. Its In
habitants were a man named Bruno,
taciturn, always at work. rusted by the
sun. The wife, Olympic, a dried plant
of the mountain, dried up like cinder,
like her husband. forever at work.
sewing and tending the flowers and
vegetables; then the daughter. tall,
hrown-haired girl, sweet smelling as
<he grass about a spring. the pure ARd