The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1899-02-10
A PARIS EXPERIENCE.

A PARIS EXPERIENCE.
1t is quite little story, slight and thin;
80 thin even, SO slight, that fear, in tx
ing 1T on paper with written words, to rob- is
of it's frai grace, its light SAVIOR. WHY,
then. when it was related to us one even
ing, in. all the complicated and decorated
luxury of modern talk, by the charming
woman who was the heroine of the episode
why did it make such tenacious impress
sion upon us all that it has become, in one
little corner of Partisan life, one Of those
classic tales, patrmony of each group of
society, to which alusion is always under
stood and welcomed? Perhaps because it
was clear gap in the chatter of infdelty.
in the hackneyed gossip Of politics and lit.
erature. Perhaps because, as an attitude,
a gesture at times may suffice to reveal to
us whole feminine body beneath it's cloth
ing-at times it also needs but few sin
cere words uttered by woman to disrobe
her soul completely.
We had been talking Of mysterious soici
tations, to-day classed and named by
science, from which SO few of us are exempt.
which inyincibly compel some to add up
the flowers of a wallpaper, the volumes of
a library, everything that is additional,
under their eyes; others to impose upon
themselves the task, walking along the side
path of street, to reach such a gas jet be-
fore the cab rolling up behind them is
abreast of them, or public clock has struck
its last note; and others, again, each night
before going to bed, to practice strange
habits in disposing of objects, visiting cup
boards and Golfers We discussed all the
light diseases of our contemporary brains,
crumbs of mononania and madness trans
mitted by inheritance after Inheritance, and
finally dispersed throughout the whole of
our worn humanity.
A young woman had said nothing She
listened to us, touch of surprise on her
peaceful, pretty visage, which was framed
by even, black coils.
Somebody asked her: "And you, madam,
are you quite free of our modern manias {:
Have you not e single little nervous habit
to confess?'
She appeared to search her memory in all
sincerity. She made sign with her head:
mo, no." We felt that she spoke the truth
so much did all that we saw and knew of
her, her restful bearing, her renown as an
unblemished wife, lift her above the fash
ionable dolls who had Just been consessng
Doubtless her modesty feared the boast of
so complete an indemnity when everyone
around her had acknowledged all sorts of
little troubles. She corrected herself:
Good heavens! / can't say that habitu-
ally add up the cab numbers, or that make
an inventory of all my dresses before going
to bed. Still, the other day experienced
| something that sufficiently resembles what
L h,x, No. = r 4.
| stood You qute-a kind of interior impul-
sion, force which compels you to accom-
plish an Indifferent act on the spot, as if it
We're matter of life or DEATH"
We insisted on hearing the story, and she
told it most graciously, with the air of beg
| ging pardon for the claim on the attention
of others by so slight an adventure.
I'm two words, this is what happened tc
me- Five or six days ago had gone out
with my little girl, Suzon-you know her
she is eight was taking her to her class
for this big girl already follows classes. As
it was very fine we had decided on going or
foot by the Champs Elysees and the boule
wards from my home to the Rue LATTE
i And so we were walking along quite CAV
chattering together, when at the top of thu
Rond Point lame man, rather young
limped up to us holding out his hand with
out saying anything. carried my paraso
in my right hand; with my left hand hele
up my skirts; I confess / had not the pa
tience to stop and hunt for my purse.
went on and gave nothing to the beggar.
"Suzon and continued to walk along tn,
Champs Elysees. The little one had sud
denly ceased to talk, and also, withou
quite knowing why, no longer felt any wisl
to talk. We We're at the Place de la Con
corde, and yet we had neither of us opened
our lips since we had passed the beggar
And little by little felt stir and increase
kind of inward disquietude, and uneasiness
the feeling of having accomplished an il
reparable action, of being threatened, fo
that very reason, with vague peril in th
| future
Let us see,' said to myself, "have
sinned very graciously against charity il
giving nothing to that beggar? never pre-
tend to regard it as my duty to give to ever
beggar meet. | will be more generous wit
the next, that is ALL
But all my arguments did not succee
in convincing me, and my inward disconten
increased-became sort of anguish, SO tina
ten times | felt wish to turn back to tn
spot where we had met that man. Will yo
believe it? 1t was false sentiment of hr
man respect that withheld me from dom
SO in the presence of my little daughter. w
are really worth nothing more the momen
we act in view of the judgment of others.
I'VE had nearly come to the end of on
walk and were going to turn the corne
of the Rue Lafitte when Suzon pulled gentl
at my dress to stop me.
Mammal she cried.
What do you want, darling?'
.She fixed her great blue eyes on me an
said, gravely:
Mamma, why did you give nothing t
that poor man in the Champs Elysees?'
Like me, she had thought of nothing els
since our meeting with that man; her hear
was oppressed like mine; only, better tina
her mother, or more sincere, she confesse
quite simply her uneasiness
II did not hsitate an instant. You a,
right, dearest / said to her.