The Press., 1898-12-01

indoors, and she begged the housewife to
accept the dress in remembrance Of the
kind hospitality she had received.
This was indeed disappointment for
these good people. What they had done
for the artist had been done for friend-
ships sake. The gift of the silk, which
must at least have cost 20 francs a yard,
lained them. The present seemed en-
irely out of proportion with the service
rendered. Their pride was hurt They
decided to return the silk. In a cata-
logue of the salon they found Moussia's
address, and one day on their way to
the Halles they stopped in the Avenue
de Villiers, where the artist lived
When they arrived in front of the house,
they thought they must have made
mistake in the number. Was it possible
that their young friend lived in this
beautiful mansion? Then she was not
poor artist.
They rang; liveried servant opened
the door. After taking their names he
ushered them into snmptuous drawing
room. Moussia was lying on a couch
wrapped in loose white plush, gown.
She was much thinner, very pale. Her
large eyes shone with a phosphorescent
brilliancy. Recognizing her friends, she
uttered joyful exclamation, and rails
ing herself with difficulty she gave
them her emaciated hand.
Il am SO happy to see you, - she said,
coughing almost at every word. "You
must not feel hurt because l did not
come to thank you. l am not allowed to
go out. 1t seems that worked too h{rd
on my last picture. took cold standing
in the grass. am now here for some
time.
The horticulturist and his wife look
ed at her in be- Gilderment An expires
sion of deep pity came over their faces
The gardener no longer knew what to
do with the package containing the
silk. He felt that he could not return it.
"We don mind it as you were sick, -
answered the wife, ''but still we were
sorry that you sent us this silk. What
we did for you we did willingly. We
did not want present for letting you
work on our place. My husband and
decided to bring the dress back. .
ooh, you were the one who wished
to bring it back, interrupted the hus-
band.
"You are both foolish about the mat
ter, exclaimed Moussia, laughing as
she used to. "You would pain me deep
~ by refusing my present. wish you
to wear this DRESS she added, speak
ing to the gardeners wife, 'in remem-
brance of me when l am no longer in
this world. -
Then they both assured her that as
she was SO young she would soon regain
her strength and overcome the disease.
"No," answered Moussia, 81 cannot
get we'll. The candle is burning at both
ends. 1 shall not live long You know
that children who are too clever never
live long, She tried to laugh, but
mist covered her blue eyes.
''And the apple tree?" she asked alb
ruptly changing the subject. sis it al
ways beautiful
"Oh, no, indeed" they answered,
"the blossoms are all gone; but the fruit
is beginning to show. Apples will be
plentiful. You must Gene out and eat
some in September. The good air of
Sevres will restore you to health, made
moiselle.
She shook her head and let it fall
back ON the cushions, tired and exhaust
ed by having spoken so much.
When the horticulturist and his wife
departed, Moussia closed her. eyes and
thought of the apple tree. 1t was in
good health. The sap was running from
it's roots to its branches. 1t spread its
foliage in the sun, laughing at rain and
wind, at cold nights and hot moons,
while she, imprisoned in room, at
tended by the wisest Paris DOCTORS was
slowly dying. Oh, misery OF human life!
She was young, beautiful, rich, beloved,
unusually gifted. She had SO much to
tell the world, her head was SO full of
pictures.
Toward the end of October the gar
dener and his wife received letter
with wide black border telling them
of Moussia s death, and these good peo-
pie wept for the lovely girl who during
one month had been the life and bright
ness Of their modest country dwelling.
In the mad whirl of large cities hu-
man life ended makes little more i'm
preston than the falling of a dead leaf.
After few days of painful astonish-
ment the gay Partisan world which had
so admired and feted Moussia returned
to its business and its pleasures. Alone
three women in mourning continued to
weep in the home of the Avenue de
Villiers
One April afternoon they were quiet
~ sitting in the drawing room, tilleu
with souvenirs of the departed, when
the gardener and his wife came into the
room. They were dressed for the ocoy
sion. The husband wore his, Sunday
coat, the wife had her shawl on, under
which she concealed large package.
Excuse us, ladies, said the garden
er, II am afraid we are disturbing you.
but we could not let this time of the
year go by without letting you know
that we often speak of the dear young
lady. My wife and thouglst<Ae would
like to bring you something i'll remem-
brance of her" The woman raising her
shawl brought forth an armful of flow.
cry branches. "These are, - he contin-
ued, 'the blossoms OF the apple tree she
painted. They will tell you Letter than
we can how we felt toward Mile Nous
sia, and if you will allow it we will
bring you every year some blossoms
from the tree as long as it bears. y IL
What kindness there is in simple
hearts! 1t is truly worth mora than all
the eloquence of the poets and alItbe
gold of the earth. The gardener and his
wife have kept their word. and thus it
is that Moussia's picture is almost al
ways adorned with pink blossoms or