Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1898-01-20
provinces, and for five weeks he had not

provinces, ana Tor I'VE weeks ne na0 not
written or given any sign of life.
She was abandoned, deceived in her
turn, the traitoress, and she lrepented and
implo'ed, begged for grace Poor Tony
was heartbrokcn, but reassure yourselves,
ierocious jurymen, with the souls of
the Moor of Venice, and if you please,
give little of your respect to the unfortu-
nate man. He proudly refused an answer
to his guilty wife.
There had been no more news of Glenn
entine until Christmas. On that day for
several years he had been in the habit of
going with his wife to lay IL modest bou-
quet-Somc frozen violcts and "a dropping
rose betwecn-on the grave of their tiny
Felix, their first born, who had died away
from them, but whom they had lain in
Mont Parnassc, to be near in death
For the first time Tony must make this
pilgrimage alone with Adrian, and as he
entered the cemetery gates, under IL gloomy
winter sky, he felt more sorrow than ever
before at the absence of his faithless wife.
Where is she nowY' he thought. What
has become of her.
But when he reached the grave of Felix,
which he found with difficulty, he started
In surprise. There lay on the small stone
three or four playthings, such as poor chill
drcn possess-a horn, ii punchinello, toy
dog. They had just been placed there, for
they We're new; had evidently recently been
purchased. "Ah, the playthings.'" cried
Adrian as he spied the Offering But the
father, seeing piece of paper pinned to
them, leaned over, took it and read these
words in writing he remembered too
WELL For Adrian, from his brother Felix,
who is now with the infant Jesus. .
Suddenly he felt his sons arms about
his neck and heard him cry in IA frightened
voice, Mammal" And there, IL few feet
away, kneeling under IL group of cypress,
he saw woman dressed in the garb of
poverty, oh, so pale, with streaming eyes,
who held out her arms toward him in sup
plication.
Between ourselves, gentlemen of the
most sanguinary jury, l do not believe
Tony Robec thought just then of him who
was born on that Christmas day, and who
taught by prccept and example the forgive
ness OF injury. The poor workingman had
very little religion. But his plebeian heart
ignored both self love and hate. With "A
shudder, caused less by the thought of the
Old INJURY than by pity at seeing tho WON
an he had once loved in such miserable
plight, he pushed her little son so gently
toward her. Adrian" said he. go and
kiss your mother" She casped her son
III a desreratc embrace and kissed his curly
head in Il passion of tenderness.
Then she rose and turned hesecehing
glance on her husband. How good you
arc1' she murmured. But he already
stood at her side and replied, with parched
lips, almost harshly, DO not speak, and
give me your arm. 1t was not far from
the cemetery to the Rue Delambre. They
hurried home, Tony felt Clemcptine's
arm trcmblc in his own. The child walked
beside them ahsently admirlng his play
things.
The concierge of tho house where Tony
lived met them at the door Madame, 5"
he said, this is my wife, who has been in
the country for six months with her sick
mother, and who now will live with me
here. And they mounted the staircase
while he almost carried the poor woman,
overcome with emotion and JOY. When
they reached their homcly chamber, Tony
seated his wife in the only chair the room
afforded, and put her son in her arms,
then, opening u drawer in the bureau, he
took out little paper box, and taking
from il Clemcntne's wedding ring he put
it on her finger. and then, without a word
of reproach. without a bitter remark over
the past, silently, gravely, with the large
generosity of Il simple heart, he kissed her
forehead, and she knew she was forgiven.
Francois Coppee.