Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1907-07-24
u The u
Ashes Of the First.

- 81.
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When the wife of Durande, captain
IN the 112th Cuirass.ers OF the line,
died. he was sorely stricken with sor-
row. and would not be comforted. In
fact, he had hardly had time to enjoy
MS happiness or appreciate his treas.
ure. for they had been married only
. month, when she was taken from
him in the raidst of their wedding
tour in Italy.
Just about returning to Paris. she
feli III in Rome and died of fever. In
spite Of the many physicians called to
attend her and the devoted care Of
her husband, who never left her side
TIL she breathed her last.
Conscious to the end, she brayely
sought TO console him.
IT was not given to mortals," she
said ITO be happy for long. Our Joy
mas been too great; 1t could not last.
Do not weep. dearest" she cried: "let
me pass away in peace, without the
memory Of your distressed face.
Smile, do not look SO sad!" and she
raised her trembling hand and cares.
singly laid It on his cheek.
You are a soldier" pursued she:
death should have ho terrors for YOU.
/ have loved you only; do me, then,
one last little favor. wish to be
near you always, even in death. / be.
seech you, cremate me, then, reduce
mo to a little heap OF ashes that you
can always carry with you. ss =
I shall never disturb you-how
strange It seems to call heap Of
ashes Yet 50 It will be. You will
sometimes glance at me thus. and
can never entirely forget met"
Nevertheless when Durande return.
ed to Paris he was changed man
He was thin and haggard; his eyes
mad lost their luster, his step its elias.
dc spring and confidence.
Courage. courage. my boy!" his
colonel would say to him.
Be brave. my tTiend!" repeated his
brother oficers.
But Joy and brightness had gone
out Of Durande's life; the once bril-
liant soldier was q broken man. 8
No one. on arrival, was allowed to
touch his luggage. and ,hez himself
With care and weeping drew from hia
satchel an artistic little vase that he
sdemnly charged his brosseur never
on any account to lay hands upon.
"A token of poor madame?" the
man ventured to ask. 4
Yes. a token" Durande responded:
before which, the slim Roman urn
that held all that was left Of his poor
wife's remains. he knelt and went BIT
tecly when alone again. At night It
stood in full Wow upon a cabinet be.
side his bed. that his eyes might rest
upon It when not closed in sleep: and
BY day, when his leave had expired
and ne had returned to duty, he was
distract, stranger to his comrades.
Joining In none Of their pleasures or
amusements, seeming to live only In
the memory Of his lost wife and tina.
urn-which might be knocked over.
He had placed her portrait in every
room IN his house, and by strange
paradox OF sentiment II was here.
among all these tender recollect.on.'
that he passed his least miserable
hours.
BY degrees. through steady contem.
plation, perhaps. the sight Of the Ro.
man urn produced a less painful ef.
feet upon the disconsolate widower.
and no longer caused him the cruel
heart pangs of the first days Of his
bereavement.
He was now able to picture his darl.
ing as she had been in the zenith Of
strength and beauty, gay, smiling.
charming. Again and again he re.
called and lived over the moments OF
tnat honeymoon journey, and grew
happy himself in this sweet, posthu.
nous revival Of radiant hours.
When at work, the urn stood on his
writing table. and he thought how In
life and in that bygone time he had.
written and pondered and she had sat
quietly beside him, reading or sewing
TRANQUILITY. silently, without disturbing
him. : 80 e g
Six months passed, heightened to a
year, and now and then 1t happened
tnat Durande forgot the urn. and left
It on his table at night Instead of car.
rying It to his bedroom. Finally he
enshrined 1t for good on his office
table. Not that the memory Of his
wife was less than at first, but be.
cause, in time. It was borne in upon
MIN that flnereal deposit like This
was unsanitary, unhealthy, in a sleep
ing room.
Nevertheless. every day It was sur
rounded, as usual, with lilies and
roses, his wife's favorite flowers
The one year heightened to two
and Durande had returned to his
bachelor life.
Ills wrong to bury yourself alive
thus, said his friends and his wsfe's
relations: "begin. go into the world
Again. !"
Durande yielded, once more went
out, frequentcd the quarters Of his
brother-officers. Joined in their 1oliiiy-
Ing, and actually one evening, carried
them all home with him to a banquet
In his own apartments. The wine
was good, the champagne sparkling.
laughter, songs, uproar, the order Of
.ihe night; when. the supper ended.
they all adjourned to the private of
ice, where the nlortuary shrine stood
alone upon the table, severe and
mournful
Reyelry ran riot. in the midst Of
which Durande suddenly recalled the
"presenre CT the dead" as he was
wont to call the urn, caught 1t mp hur-
riedly. darted fom the room, and dc.
posted y In an upper chamber, piled