Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-03-23
THE HAIRDRESSER.

Among the crowd at the Hotel CONT
mental, Paris just as the arrivals by the
English train were expected, u young
man, with pale, anxious face, stood wait
ing at the door of one of the numerous
lifts
He was merely the coiffeur, who had
come to dress the hair of beautiful Eng
lish girl, as he had often done during the
Partisan season for the last six years.
He was tall and slim, with long, nerv-
Gus 1ngers-a painters hands, with the
slight backward twist Of the thumb. He
had begun life in Breton village as an
only son, but his intelligent face lacked
the strength of a Breton; and he was too
slightly built to show his origin.
His taste for painting attracted the no.
tice of M. le Cure, who persuaded his ia
Their and mother that, having no daughter
for whom to set aside "dot," they might
we'll afford to send their son to Paris to
study.
In Paris, and the Latin Quarter, among
real and false Bohemians, he alternated
between the hot studio and art galleries
until his work changed, and it's originality
gave place to Il monotonous study OF form
and color. He grew less timid as he saw
his drawings resemble those around him,
and after few months he knew one or
two men at the cafe where he dined. They
included a rich Englishman who posed rs
a painter and poor Scotchman who
thought himself worth nothing and was
70 ftouf n,, in,
don until his wearisome cough put an end
to his modesty and fame. There were
many others who taught the young Breton
what Paris is at night, and in years
time there was little club, which met
once week to sing of Beranger and drink
to their own fayorito Lisette. The Breton
father and mother died within few
months of each other, and when he re-
turned to the village to see the latter laid
in her grave the cure had forgotten his
painting and advised him to be content
with his small inheritance and seek work
of a new kind in Paris. He smiled bitter
ly and faced his difficulties for year long
or, till art would have nothing to do with
starvation, and he married his Lisette. He
learned after a time to take part in the
work of her fathers shop. Lisette was no
longer his ideal. She grew stout and fret
full negligent mother, but an excellent
woman of business Then her father died
and left the whole of his property to her
self and her children.
He thought of her scarlet dress and red
face as he waited In the corridor of the big
hotel, and there was sudden flush on his
face as the door was flung open and he en-
tered the lift, as if the scarlet remembrance
had come into comparison with something
else.
The mother of the English girl was wait
ing in the corridor above. She met him
hurriedly, and in hard voice, in which
the concealed pain found later seconds
expression, said quickly:
"You are very late.
Madame, I was out when your mes
senger came, but u
She interrupted: "You know she is i'll.
You are not to look surprised, and you are
to cut her hair short and then curl it. We
expect some one by the English boat. DO
you know if the train is late?"
He was flushed and stammered little
"It-yes, it is late; they were saying SO,
madame, down stairs. /"
"Well, she is growing excited and fever
ish." Her voice changed and her lips
shook. "Come quickly"
The coiffeur followed her down long
passage, and as she opened tho door his
eyes met those of the young girl Her hair
was spread over the white pillows, and
amid the silk and lace Of a white wrap she
wore two little, thin hands beat the bed
clothes impatiently.
"You are late" she cried and then stop
ped. Perhaps there was something star
Ting in his eyes after all.
She turned her face away and added,
with little sob in her voice; "Colne and
cut my hair short at once. get SO hot at
night and 1t worries me- And then curl
1t nicely - very nicely" she continued
breathlessly.
They propped her up somehow Among
the mass of white linen and lace The bed
was strewn with books, which she kicked
away with one foot.
He saw her aunt and the garde-malade
give way for him to pass, her mother stoop-
ed to whisper something, and the girl cried
aloud: ooh, is th3train late-really lateS
am so gladp'
The coiffeur drew nearer and took the
soft brown hair in his hand. She lay very
still, the better to aid him, and once
glanced up to assure herself that he did
not look startled; then he smiled down at
her.
"You always wanted your hair to be
short, he said.
"Yes, even three years ago."
"Six," he corrected.
ooh, not SO many! Is it, mammap'
II don't remember, darling" The
mother moved farther away, as If the sight
Of the soft hair lying in the coiffeur's hand
was unbearable
The girl glanced after her and then said,
with an uneasy expression in her beauti-
full eyes, "1t suits me, doesn't it!"
cit is very nice" the coiffeur answered
briefly.
II want to be little pretty, as used
to be-" she said, an obvious apology for
asking the former question. "And, you
see Mr.. Haddon is coming this evening.
You know, 1 was engaged to him last
year."
II had not the honor of seeing you last
year, mademoiselle.
"Ah, no. remember we staid only a
week in Paris on our way back from
Monte Carlo, and shopped all the time,
while Mr.. Haddon looked up old friends.
He seems to know half Paris"
There was regret In her voice, and she
was silent for long time.
Tho ooiffeur spoke next
ut Is cut, nademoiselle, and IT curls
already az 1t used to do
She grew excited again. "Ah, but not