Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1905-08-19

serted. There was no one to disturb
her. All, what joy illuminated her
face!
But at this moment the little girl saw
her, uttered cry and tried to Zee,
calling for help. The unhappy woman,
dropping her stick, fell despairlngly on
her knees. Her eyes had a look so
sweet, so suppllant, so angelic, indeed,
that the child, surprised and conquered,
stood waiting for what might happen,
Tortillon, overcome with joy, adj
dressed to heaven a silent tribute of
thankfulness, and plunged into n few
cred ecstasy; she seemed spellbound
by the child.
Unfortunately, 1t was an intoxication
that demanded to be satiated by still
depeer intoxication. The little girl cast
shy glances at the hunchback from
time to time. The latter beckoned her
nearer. There was now such gentle
ness in the beggar's eyes-such love,
such beauty-that her hldeOusness
seemed to disappear, and the child was
treasured.
"What is your name?' asked Tortil-
lon.
"Lucette GARNER"
The poor woman seemed to hesitate,
then formed sudden resolution.
"Lucette, would you do me great
charityT
"Ah, yes; but have not a SOU"
A tear fell on Tortillon's cheek.
"That is not the charity mean"
Lucette, who did not understand how
one could give aims without sous, was
sIreHr. Tortiilon erept nearer, and,
softening her voice, as well as ner eyes,
said: twill you kiss meP
Her plaintive tone, and the effort she
made in saying this, would have
touched a savage. Nevertheless, the
little girl recoiled, filled with fright.
Sobs burst from the mendicant's
throat. Speeches., Lucette felt that
she was going to weep also. Tortillon
saw this, and made an effort to con-
troll herself.
II do not know how to tell you, yet
1 must. Lucette, there is not in the
whole world anything more beautiful
than little children-than you. To-day,
in this sunlight, they are divine. Lu-
cette, would give my life If you
would kiss me! This desire has been
with me long time. You do not un-
derstand, perhaps - no one has ever
kissed memo one. l have imagined
that would faint from joy If were
to see chld's arms stretched toward
me-if I were to receive kiss from
its little mouth. l am not old; / am
frightful, that is all; but have heart.
All, could but be mother-to have
child would be mad with JOY"
Lucette, amazed, looked at Tortilllon
without fully understanding what she
said; but a singular emotion disturbed
her, and in her eyes was great pity.
81 do not wish to die without having
been kissed by child" the wretched
woman continued, with great intensity.
at must be a wonderful sensation
delicious-like something from para
disc. That is why run after the little
ones: Fools say that it is because l
wish to kill them-that 1 am a witch.
To kill them! A witch! All, If were
witch l should desire that woods,
roads and the whole world were filed
with children. If 1 were a witch,
Lucette, in order to thank you for hav-
ing listened, would make you queen.
Kiss me, beg you. Do not look at me
so-but kiss me-"
She stretched her arms toward the
child. In her celestial eyes was so
much supplication that Lucette, con-
VIyivEOSr, S-----------. zsTs---I- .-sE'sSU
there was between the sweet child
and that horrible creature. However,
the little one put forward her sweet
face and slightly touched Tortillon's
forehead with her lips.
Tortillon, then all trembling, wrapped
Lucette in her arms, and covered her
with kisses.
At the same instant the poor woman
heard something hiss through the air
near her quick as lightning. She re-
ceived shock, and fell to the ground,
her head bleeding from a wound, while
Lucette's father grasped the child and
rubbed her face with his handkerchief,
as If he would efface a stain.
Some hours later, still on the road,
while in the distance the sun was slow
ly sinking in sea of gold, Tortillon,
with her forehead cut, her eyes stupe-
fed and with blood on her hands and
face, rose heavily, and turned her back
on the village.
What had happened?
Lucette's father had aroused the
whole country. They were going to
kill her; she would indeed have been
torn to pieces had it not been for the
curate.
But she remembered nothing of this,
nor did she feel her pain. The only
thing that remained in her memory
was the thought of the kiss from those
childish lips. The memory was as
aSsalve to all her wounds. This kiss
seemed to fiutter around her, and to
sing a thousand sweet songs in her
enchanted ear.
She went on, radiant, a prey to her
ecstasy-and to her fever. When the
sun had set, Tortillon stopped, lay
down in a field at the roadside, looked
at the stars, believed in God, thought
Of the kiss of Lucette-then, happy, in
deed, she died.-Translated for the Ar
gonaut from the French of Camille
Debaus, by Mabel Haughton Brown.
Too nFo-, No.