Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1906-05-01
: HIS GREAT SORROW.

1N MINE hCtu IhS ,CifcAOpS up "
IN to the light and regarded it
SS critic lily.
1T is re rdare from Eat Chicago
house." he s. /, flor which haf-Oh!
wat you sa. !-hostled"
Our Amer IN slang had always been
a source of Underwent to him and ne
used it with the same enjoyment per-
sonally that 1t produced on his au-
ditors
But the other letter, Andre?" said
1, noticing that he tucked a second
mlssive slyiy aside.
He blushed like schoolgirl as he
replied: Eat Use from my Yvonne,
but l open 1t not till re fine ampulla
feenished ana success is mine"
Andre de Beaumont's pottery and
plaster work had been the fashion ever
since our women's club made him a
fad by taking up both himself and his
work.
An Alsatian, having come to our city
a few years before after a most ro-
mantle life Of adventure all over the
world.
In far-off Alsace he had left peas
ant sweetheart, one Yvonne St Ro-
mier, whom he was to claim when for
tune favored him! But the silver
threads were showing now in Andres
dark hair and the time was not yet
come.
My brother Paul conceived a great
liking for Andre, from the very first
and bad him often at our house, where
we spent many pleasant hours, enter
tanned by Andres playing and singing
of the songs of his people.
At present he was engaged in expert
menting on a marvellous green-tinted
ampulla, which ii a success means his
fortune, and, being enc of his oldest
friends, ] was to be the first to view
the wonder now cooling in the pottery
kiln.
Together we went into the workshop
v here the kiln stood, and Andre began
breaking down the plaster that held
the brick door. At last it fell a crum-
bled mass, under his steady blows, but
he seemed afraid 70 look within; sue
cess might still be as far away as ever.
laid my hand on his arm. "Cour-
age, mon ami" | said.
Reaching down he drew out the vase.
almost reyerently. gazing speechlessly
at its beauty and perfect green coloring
with streaming eyes. Success was An
dre's portion at last.
With a bound he was back In the
front shop with Yvonnes letter in his
trembling fingers.
He had read but line when his face
grew d,athly white and he crushed
the letter into my hand.
Mon Dieu! ma'mselle.' he cried.
Read! Yvonne, she is dead!!" and be
fell into the chair before the fire, bury.
ing his face in his hands.
Poor YvOnne, her neighbor wrote,
worn out with long waiting hoping
against hope, had died with Andres
name on her lips, blessing and com
mending him to the Blessed Virgin
with her last breath.
Andre rose unsteadily, seemingly
grown feeble old man in the past few
moments, as he tottered toward the
WORKSHOP.
Pausing before the beautiful ampulla
he raised his hand and would have
struck 1t to the floor had l not grasped
his arm.
ANDRE / screamed.
"Ah, mam'selle," he said gently
wat is zere now Eat should live wher
Yvonne she hat gomez"
Andre, dear friend!" l cried. kneel
ing beside him on the dusty floor anC
grasping his arm. this great sorrow
must not crush you, when at last after
years of work and self-sacrifice success.
is in your grasp. Let it be an infu
ence in your life for good, that its bit
terness may leayen your whole futur,
life work. If Yyonne could speak I,
you now l am sure she would advis,
you as 1 am doing"
/ could not see his face. but his grea
frame shook with sobs.
Dear Andre" / continued. you anS
are entering life's afternoon. but
loved and lost once like you He sailet