Santa Fe daily New Mexican., 1896-04-29
,elves. One would say a notury's office

y
and study.
Our good man breathes at ease. He is
at home. Before beginning his work he
| opens large closet, takes out pair of
| heavy silk sleeves, which he draws on
carefully also "A little red plate and
some pieces of sugar He then peels his
apples with an air Of satisfaction. The
fact is, one could hardly find "a more
cheerful little office, better lighted or
arranged in such good order. But, sin
gularly enough, one hears the noise Of
water everywhere; it surrounds you,
enyelops you, very much as if you were
i'll the cabin of a steamer.
Below you the Seine rolls and tum-
bles at the arches of the bridge making
heaps OF foam at this point, always clog
ged by floating debris Even in the
house itself, all around the Office, there
isanoise of trickling water. know not
why, but the sound makes you shiver.
1t drops upon a hard surface and, re-
bounding, falls upon broad stone floor
There are marble tables which make it
seem still more cold.
What do they wash at this strange
laundry? What ineffaceable stain: At
times, when the trickling and pattering
cease, down below we hear the sound
of solitary drops of water, one by one,
like snow in Il thaw or the beginning Of
shower. We might think the fog was
condensing, gathering upon the walls
and continually dripping. 1t does not dis
turb our good man. He is entirely taken
up with his apples, which are beginning
to steam in the little red plate, giving
out faint perfume of burned sugar,
and the pretty song seems to prevent
him from hearing the sound of the wa
ter--that horrible dripping!
Are you ready, recorder?' says a
hoarse voice from the adjoining room.
Our recorder casts glance at his apples
and leaves them, with regret. Through
the half open door current Of cold air,
smelling of reeds and marshes, strikes
him, and Il vision of clothes hanging OH
line - faded blouses, workingmen'
garments, calico dress stretched at full
length by the sleeves and dripping,
dripping
He has finished and re- enters. He laws
down upon the table some small objects,
all wet, and goes to the stove to thaw
out his fingers, benumbed and reddened
by the cold.
They must have been mad in such
weather as this" ho said shivering.
"What is the matter with them all?''
When he is again comfortably warm,
and when the sugar melts and runs over
the side of the plate. he breakfasts in
corner of the office. While eating he
opens one of his great books and COM
placently turns over the leaves. This big
book is beautifully kept; the lines are
straight and headed with blue ink, with
little reflections of gold powder and
blotter for every page. Everything is in
perfect order.
Business seems to be good. Our re-
corder has the contented air of all ac-
countant looking over good balance at
the end of the year.
While he turns over the pages with
delight they open the doors of the ad-
joining room. There is the sound Of
crowd upon the stone pavement and
hushed voices as if in church.
"Oh, how young she is! What pity!"
And there is hushing and whis-
pering. What is it to our good man
whether she is young or not? He tran
gully finishes his apples and draws to-
ward him the objects which he placed
on the table but short time before.
A thimble full Of sand, pocketbook
containing sou, little pair of rusted
scissors, SO rusted that they never can |
be used again. Oh, something else! A
working girls book, all the pages stuck
together; a torn, defaced letter-a few
words are still legible-"the child-no
money! month as nurse. -
The bookkeeper shrugs his shoulders
as if to say, II have seen all that be-
fore. T" Then he takes his pen, blows
away carefully the bread crumbs which
have fallen upon his book, makes lit
tie preparatory gesture before getting
his hand in the proper position, and
then, in large round letters, he writes,
"Felicie Rameau, metal burnisher, age
III years. From the French of AL
phonse Daudet i'll Short Stories.