Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-08-02
DENISE.

They had been three years married.
| They adored one another. She was
young. He was young also. Two happy
faces Two charming souls!
Why had they come to this little old
and isolated village 100 leagues from
Paris? Surely the guides had never rec
commended it. Here the grass grew be-
tween the caved In paving stones Of
the streets. And one could hear now
and then, with it's jolting and jogging,
the jingling Of bells and the rattling Of
windows, the yellow coach, which re-
turned, nearly always empty, from the
distant railway station.
1t was Cecile who had thought Of
this trip Roger had atfrst said "No,"
but she, coming closer to him, said
coaxingly:
"Was it not down there in the little
village, close to the mountains, that
you were born, passed your childhood
and became man? Was it not there
you lived with your aged parents, over
whom we wept together year since?
I wish to see the good old country
house of which you have SO often spo-
ken. And the garden, too, which SEEM
ed so large when you were little child.
You shall show me the we'll where you
used to throw stones to hear them
splash in the water-the tulip tree,
where you found the nest Of doves. l.
want to see the road you travelled to
the schoolhouse. You used to stop by
the way to eat mulberries, little gour-
mand that you were. Howl shall laugh
as picture you passing by, when you,
Roger, were not taller than boot and
wore short trousers. On your arm you
carried a basket in which your mother
had placed luncheon of bread and pre-
serves. No, Roger, I shall not laugh.
Do not think me so frivolous. If wish.
to go down there to your native village,
it is because I love you'll love you so
well-and because I am jealous of a
past in which I have no share. Perhaps
some day you might think of these
things without thinking of me. IT'S.
this that grieves me So Take me where
you were, mingle me with that which.
once surrounded you, SO that hence
forth you may never have reverie in.
which am not a part, so that may
never be absent from your memories,
however distant they may be. Speak
ing thus, she raised her lips to his, and.
he consented (not without an air Of
melancholy because Of the proffeyed.
kiss.
The first days passed in this little
village were adorable ones. Cecile en-
joyed everything i'll the great, lonely
place. Even the ugly, somber streets
delighted her. The villagers who pass
ed turned to look after her, marveling
at her Partisan grace.
One evening there was fete in front
of the town hall-a shooting gallery,
three turnstiles and some wooden.
horses. Nine. Prudence, the olairvoy-
ant, was there. Cecile entered the wom-
ans place to learn her fate.
"No enemy seeks to harm You, and.
every possible happiness is yours.
"Ah, know it" cried Cecile, fall
ing impulsively upon her husbands
neck, to the establishment Of the clair
voyant.
She visited the old house where Rog-
er's mother had died. "What pity we
are not rich enough to buy it," she
said. Then she made him relate, with |
many details, the life he had led when |
a boy-at what hour he arose, at what |
hour he went to bed. She wanted to
know, too, the place at table occupied |
by each member Of the family and to |
hear Of those evenings when he sat be-
meath the lamp reading aloud, while the |
old mother, listening, would fall asleep |
in the great armchair, her feet upon the
fender.
But the garden interested her most Of
all. She at once recognized the we'll,
and she in her turn dropped in stones
to hear them splash in the water.
There were no more doves nests in
the tulip tree. "What pityp'
Behind the hedge ran the road to the
Cecile stained her red
lips nearly black with the juice Of the
mulberries, and no happy was she that
her eyes became clouded with tears Of
Joy. She followed where Roger led.
He was charmed to see her 80 tenderly
Affected He, however, was very silent
md smiled but little, trying in vain to
aide feeling of deep sadness. Yes, tru-
y, after they had returned to the little
village he was pensive and morose.
One morning he dressed in haste and
quickly left the inn where Ceoile was
IT'LL sleeping. He did not even place
,pon her forehead or lips the kiss that
would have awakened her.
He traversed the village, passed the
asst house and entered graveyard.
He stopped in front Of slab Of stone
,pon which was inscribed name,
Denise" and the age, "15 years"
Here he fell upon his knees, his face
,uried in his hands. Roger had not
old all to Cecile He had not related
III his youthful memories. She did not |
NOW that be had loved when d child |
mother child; that the poor little one J