The herald., 1895-02-24

|
So home to bed, where she cried her.
self to sleep with thoughts of Leon.
And Leon, too, waited, and wondered,
and doubted. Why no letters from Leo
| ME? Once in six weeks or so, when no
one was about, the young man, in his
| coarse canvas suit, would write, IN lear
and trembling, in some corner of the bar
rack, a hasty little love letter to his Pro-
vencal playfellow. 1t cost him a whole
three sous for the stamp, let alone paper
and envelopes and three sous, can tell
you, means something considerable to
common French soldier. You must deny
yourself tobacco if you would write to
your lady-love. But with magnanimous
generosity Leon paid this three sous out
of affection for Leone. What he couldn't
understand was why Leonle never an
swered. But Christine knew why. She
took good care that no letter of Leonie's
ever got beyond her office, and no letter
OF Leon 5 was ever delivered in the vii,
lage to Leonie. She opened and read
them all, but beyond her hands the cor.
respondence never passed. She took good
care to retain it. More than that ono
day, towards the end of Icons three
years of service, he received an unexpect-
gossip of their native village. Had he
hearad how the Pere Dupuis had been
gathered to his fathers? and how the
Mere Puget had broken her leg through
regrettable accident? and how Madeline
was to be married to the brave Andre9
And how Leonie and Adolphe-but there
that was only, perhaps, rumor, and we
would hope. after all, there was no truth
in it, for Leonie had always been the de-
murest and most understanding of all
girls in the village, Yet in effect, tn sais,
tits often these dernure ones that are
often the first to throw over their dis
carded lovers. However let us believe the
story was not true; for, indeed, some
said Leonie intended to marry a new
young man, worker on the rail, who
had come to our country from the direc-
ton of Draguignan.
When Leon read that, his heart sank
within him. So Leonie, his own Leonie,
had not only forgotten him, but had been
untrue to him as well, and to herself into
the bargain! Whatever came. Of it, he
the Coudon: For weeks and weeks he
sulked over Leonie. IS detection. OF course
he didn't try to write to her any longer.
His expenditure on absinthe and bad
cigars redoubled. The caporal declared,
with o most military oath, Leon was
caporal's oath for an English audience.
When Icons time was up, instead of
returning home at once, he got laborer's
work at Valence, and drifled on thence in
an aimless way to Aries and Marseilles,
q
man. His three years soldering had
given more dignity than ever to his erect
figure and his handsome, daredevil Pro-
vencal face. He was beautiful and reck-
less. Still, he got little work, and spent
what he made somewhat faster than he
earned it. Sooner or later he began to
fear he must return to the Coudon and
discover what the paternal estate could do
for him.
On the mountainside meanwhile various
things had been happening. Day after day
Leonie still went with her beads to the
grotto. She had promised Leon that she
would wear them out in praying for him.
and, indeed, it seemed as though she
would fulfill her promise.
They were made of coarse, soft paste,
that wore away with lingering; thinner
and thinner they grew every day with
use, as Leonie fumbled them before the
tinseled Madonna. Moreover, she was
almost alone among the votaries in the
cave now; only few old women besides
herself ever went to pay their respects to
Our Lady of the Grotto. Times had
changed a republican government, in its
goddess way, had discountenanced the
miracles and exposed Marie Bella, who
turned out in effect to be no better than
she ought to be.
An opportunist cure, willing, no doubt,
the minions of an Erastian state, had
counseed his flock to pay their devo-
tious at the hilltop hermitage of the
blessed Saint Saturnin, instead OF assem-
bling at the Saint Baume of their mothers.
In consequence of these changes, the
shrine had suffered not a little from
neglect; the stations of the Cross stood
dilapidated and unglazed; the oblations OF
the faithful scarcely sutficed the guardian
for lighting the lamps and keeping the
floor of the grotto III tolerable condition.
But Leonie still came to Our Lady's
ma n lav 81
for her faithess lover.
On one such evening in warm April
weather, when the cieadas had ceased to
sing, and the tree-frogs were croaking in
the twilight stiffness, she climbed once
more that weary, rock-worn path, and
bent for the thousandth time before the
face of Our Lady. Alone with the Ma
donna, she prayed aloud, as was her
wont, first telling her beads from Ave
Maria grata plena down to the final
Amen in good Latin of the church, and
then adding, in her own sweet Proveneal
dialect, her earnest petition for the re-
turn OF her lover
Dear Lady, she said, looking up in
her agony at the wide-open eyes of the
wooden Virgin. ''see my poor worn chap,
let, how it is wasted with tingerings!
Day after day thou knowest have prayed
here in vain, yet day after day my faith
brings me back before thee. | promised
Leon / would pray for him night and
morning till the beads were worn OUT
and, dear Lady, thou seest | have kept
my promise.
Look how the beads are, so small and
thin, and one or two here and there
have mended with sealingwax. If he
come not soon, they will all be worn
away, and who will then believe in Our
Lady of the Grotto? Oh, Blessed Mother,
send him back-send him back at once to
me! My poor, poor eyes are sore and red
with crying | ask you for Leon, for
Leon only dear Lady. How small
thing it is for you to bring him back, and
how great a thing for me-oh =! how happy
how happy"
Ever. as She spoke, from the gloom be-
hind the shrine and the shadow of the
image a figure seemed to rise and emerge
into 5he lamplght. At the rustling of its
clothes Leonie sobbed and trembled.
Could this be, indeed. Our Lady herself,
appearing once more as she had ap-
peared to Marie Bella? Could it be that
such grace was vouchsafed to her-a
sinner?
Our Lady or not, twas indeed a miracle;
for next instant she heard the sound OF
well-known voice:
''Oh, Leonie, Leonie! it is melt is
Leonl | have heard all you prayed. Our
Lady has brought me!''
He had come from Marseilles to Toulon
that day, and, walking homeward by the
slope of the Coudon, had dropped into
the Saint Baume, unobserved and unrecog-
al, in NJ lp