New Ulm review. (New Ulm, Brown County, Minn.) 1892-1961, 1905-11-22
Anfoine'4
Marie
By Virginia Leila Wentz
Copyright, 1906, BY K. il. Whitehead

One August morning, with his high
leather leggings, his easy costume, his
fishing basket and tackle, Paul Blake
strobe along through the dew wet Cana
dian grass. He knew of certain deep
hollow in the brook which on such
haunt of juicy trout, and for the sheer
JOY OF expectation he whistled For
equal to Blake's love for the art of
painting was his love for the sport of
fishing. He was not only enjoying his
summer gathering French Canadian
landscapes; he was reyeling in his ia
vOrite sport as we'll.
After an hour of successful fishing in
the quiet~spot which he had selected
he spied a splendid trout tucked cozily
under a stone. But it was written in
the book of fate that this fish and the
frying pan should not lightly be
brought together. Fly after fly was
thrown in vain. Down through the
crystal clear water he could see the
sleek sides and the round, unspecula-
tive eye Of his intended victim, and he
resolved to try the method of tickling
So he undid his sleeve links, barred
his arm and knelt upon the lichens,
clinging with one hand to an Overhang-
ing birch. He was dipping cautiously
toward the water when there in the
pool before him, close to the reflection
of his own, flashed another face
It was a girls face, and in its un-
usual loneliness it lay for a second like
some magic picture. The next second
Blake observed with a thrill that the
vision was being changed by the cur
rent and that his own blond curls were
dark ones. Then while he gaZed at the
reflection with Narcissus-like intent
ness the other face vanished as sudden
ly as it had come.
Springing to his feet. Blake perceived
the bent trunk of an alder which pro-
jected across the stream from the top
Of the bank above, and he knew that
the girl must have been leaning over
the trunk from that higher bank, uncon-
scious of his presence, UNTIL like a
startled deer, she fed.
''She was like one Of Murillo's gypsy
eyed Madonnasr' he exclaimed. And
though he went on for awhile longer
with his trout fishing, the sport seemed
to have lost bit of flavor.
The next day Paul Blake drew up his
horse before the kitchen door OF 3
| whitewashed farmhouse, and Antoine
Martin rose to greet him.
"Bienvenue, m'sieu," said he, with old
French hospitality. And will m'sieu
dismOunt?"
Blake did dismount, and as he stood
in the wide doorway he tried to &C
count for his presence. He was q
painter, fOrSOOth, and doing this section
of Canada. He had already collected
a good many views, but among them
all there was not one more wonderful
than that which could be obtained from
the level plateau on which Antoine's
farm stood 1t was as if the hills had
here withdrawn to leave an arena for
some great spectacle, some ancient
savage pageant. Might he, therefore,
be permitted to fetch his easel and
palette and to put upon canvas the har-
mony and beauty of it all:
Blake saw the 1.-THE figure of a girl
sitting opposite to him, her arms upon
the table, her dimpled face with the
Murillo eyes framed in both hands, her
scarlet lips parted in GREATNESS listen
ing, hanging upon his words. All, luck
was with him, to be sure. If he had
lost the trout yesterday he had found
the girl today.
"Come here. cherie," said old Antoine
to the girl, and to the stranger, MY
! niece, Marie
"But, you little water sprite, you lit
| tie Undine, however did you get YOU
! face so mixed up with mine that day
! In the pool" Blake asked one morning
| as Marie stood watching him at worl
on his canvas.
sch, bien, m'sieu, l had gone out fol
a pique-niQue on the barrens, and-ra
masse les oranges what you call picl
berries" she answered in her Quain
English speech, eked out with bits O
patois here and there. Then she eX
planned how she'd leaned over tn
trunk of the tree from the bank abov'
to wash her stained fingers; how, jus
as she was in the act of dipping down
she had seen his reflection in the wa
ter and was startled.
Between the strokes of his brus]
Blake took surreptitious glances at tn
willowy figure, half holding back tn
apple boughs as she talked, half swing
ing Oh them. Rebel locks had broker
out of confinement and were curtin
damply about her warm, white nee
and that crumpled rose leaf Of an cal
All, she was exquisitely delightful
That same day he said to Antoine:
''If you would permit Mile. Marie t
sit to me, and if Mile. Marie will cor
sent"-he questioned the Murillo eyes
which silently gave him his answer
then fell beneath his own-'1 could q
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