The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1899-06-23
N|COLA'S CONVERSION.

/
the beginning of the village festival in
honor of that good saint who all the year
| through, takes such good care of the
whole village In every house work was
laid aside. Tho young people hurried to
the dance. The old people looked on or
rested at home from the many cares that
come with the wincmaking and the fruit
| gathering
The blacksmith's house stood in the
midst of the village, but the doors and
| windows We're closed, and the anvil was
| silent, for ''the marshall had wandered
out with his wife and daughter into what
| was at that time the Frenchman's para
| dise-a bare, sunny spot outside the town,
with dusty fruit trees and big vegetable
| beds. This spot the Frenchlnan loved to
| cali his garden
Upon rickety bench without a back,
| in front of u wooden hut for the garden
tools, sat monsieur" and studied Little
| Lorraine" with suppressed invectives
| against tho "cursed Prussians." Madame
| had enthroned herself upon an overturned
oleander tub in the path and had made
fast to the trunk of a young apple tree
| that netting work which for some unac-
| countable reason the women of that prov
| ince are always doing.
Meanwhile Celestine, tho dark eyed
| daughter, leaned sulkily against the hedge
and picked to pieces the bunch of asters
and mignonette which had been stuck
| into her pink silk sash for a gala decora-
| ton. She started nervously when the
priest, reading his breviary as he strollcd
along, gave her a friendly greeting after
he had inquiringly scanned her face, usu-
ally so gay.
1 Al -&ot1 n;oI kI4 II
| nodding to her. "Not at the dance? What
| is tho matter?"
mono of your business" Celestine
would have enjoyed saying, but she held
| her tongue, while her blushing face droop-
cd before the Keeper of her conscience.
Really you must confide in ST Joseph"
continued the priest laughingly as he cour-
| teously declined Father Audebert's invi-
tation to join them. He thanked madame
| for the "Mirabelles de Mez," the little
sugary plums she had given him, and said
| goodby to the good people for the present
Without stopping he kept on his way,
| for his sharp, clover eyes had discovered
| something toward which he eagerly
| turned.
But this something's slim, shock
| headed lad-at once disappeared behind a
| beech thicket toward footpath by the
| side of the road
Hello, Nicolah' called the priest
"Why arc you Sinking through the mead
ow there and keeping Celeste waiting?
| Surely you ought to take her to the
dance"
Nicola looked very much ashamed and
| slowly turned around, but when the priest,
still diligently reading in his book, had
passed by and disappeared behind second
| clump of bushes as he followed the path
onward the lad stood for time undccid-
ed, lazily stretched himself, finally turned
back again and slowly, as before, sauntcr-
cd along the woodsy path, sweet with
thyme, humming this witty and beautiful
song:
Had the good God willed,
My name had been Jerome;
But it seemed best to my ma
To call me Nicola
Nicola, Nicola-ha! hal hal
Nicola
At last he came to the little chapel
gained its sunny side and, with a sigh,
dropped down where soft silvery gray
weeds covered the warm earth.
Yes, he had intended to go after Celes-
tine-at least, he had made her think so
| the night before, when he lounged around
in the bright smithy and watched the fly
ing sparks, but luckily he had not told her
so in unmistakable words-trust Nicola
| always to watch out for that. Promises
| and obligations gre such heavy, heavy
hurdensl He knew this from many n
painful experience. This was why he was
Galled Lazy Nicola"
Naturally the evening before his half
promise had not seemed a burden. He
was too fond of pretty Celeste for that.
I.s+ 81,
his way to get his girl, when he felt the
dust and the heat and saw how the bright
drops stood on the dancers foreheads, it
seemed to him very pleasant to talk with
Celeste of u cool autumn evening by the
blazing fire or to sit with her on the vine
yard terrace in the sunshine of an October
morning. but here, to whirl round and
round in the sweat of his brownie really
wasn't foolish enough for that, and what
pleasure could it be to her anyhow? That
her whole body thrilled with impetuaus
vitality, that her untiring feet aphed to
dance and that only too willingly would
she have shown her little white clad per-.
son by the side of the handsomest fellow
in the village-of all this lazy, comfort
loving Nicola really had no suspicion.
For Nicola was not only the handsomest
lad, but also the richest and best brought
up youngster in the whole neighborhood,
and so used to having the ripe fruit fall
into his hand that it hardly seemed worth
while to stretch it out.
Certainly he didn't care to make any
unnecessary eXertion, as in the present
! tase, and so he basked in the sunshine till
he fell asleep and thus got rid of all trou-
blesome thoughts.
Celeste, in the meantime, still stood by
ihc hedge and thought about the words
# the priest which she knew very we'll
how to apply. At first she was rather
angry. She wrinkled her forehead and
,ontemptuously turned down the corners
| Of her MOUTH then she looked more
thoughtful At last the young girl laugh
ed q littlo scornfully, murmured some.
thing to herself about stupidity" and de-
| clarcd, turning to her parents, that she
would take her godmother some apples.
| So she filled basket with the red checked
| fruit and slowly walked away. At first she
| went in the right direction, but suddenly,
| turning back, she followed narrow path
| behind the garden toward the bush Dor
| dcrcd road leading to the little chapel.
This chapel is dedicated to st. Joseph,
whose image adorns the open, cell-likc
shrine. Over his shoulders hangs sheep
skin, and he leans upon his staff, while
from under his weather beaten halo his
face beams forth peacefully.
He may we'll look friendly, for tho de-
vout who turn to him in trouble are al
most always pretty young girls.
st. Joseph of Jaupierre Is widely re-
nowned His especial delight is to help