The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1907-10-18

appetite. He was long, lank, ill
built young fellow, with fever-hollow-
ed eyes and hospital beard. and so
thin that his shoulder-b1ades stood
out under the cloth of his worn ca
pote.
"You are hungry, comrade?" said
Henri, drawing nearer, and regarding
the other curiously.
Gas you see," returned the fellow,
with his mouth full, and in no wise
abashed.
Excuse me- If l had known my.
bread could have been of use to yous
would not have thrown it away"
said the duke.
There's no harm DONE" replied the
soldier. I'm not so particular"
"All the same" said the gentleman,
cit was stupid of me, and / am soEy
for it. But you mustn't carry away
bad opinion of me, and as l have
some good cognac in my flask, par
bleu! Well drain it together
The man had finished eating the
duke and he drank a swallow; the
acquaintance was an accomplished
fact.
And your name?"
"Hardimont," replied the duke, sup
pressing title and particle. EFT toi?"
Jean Victor I've only lately been
transferred to this company I'm just
out of the ambulance. / was wounded
at Chatillon. All! l was well off at
the hospital. What good horse-meat
broth they give you there! But it was
only a scratch; the major signed my
dismissal, and here am! The starv-
ing begins again. For believe me If
you like, comrade, I've been hungry
all my born days"
The speech startled the voluptuary
who had surprised himself moment
before, regretting the cuisine of the
Cafe Anglais. The duke gaZed at his
companion in horror-stricken amaze
ment. The soldier smiled awkwardly,
showing his wolfish teeth, white in
he understood that a confidence was
expected of him: "TeneZ," he said,
suddenly ceasing to thee and thou"
his comrade, guessing him to be rich
and fortunate-"teneZ, let us walk up
and down bit to warm our feet, and
will tell you things you probably
never heard before. My name is Jean
acknowledgements and nothing
further, for am founding. My only
happy memories are those of my earl
lest childhood, in the Hospice. The
sheets were white on our little beds
in the dormitory; we played under
big trees in the garden, and there was
one sister. quite young, as pale as a
wax taper-she was dying of con-
sumption-whose pet / was. / liked
to walk with her better than to play
with the other children, because she
used to press me against her skirt
and put her thin, hot hand on my
brow. But at twelve, after my first
communion, the wretchedness began.
The administration had put me out to
apprenticeship at chair-seater's of
the Faubourg st. Jacques. It's no
trade at all, you know-out of the
question to make ones living at it;
the proof of that is that usually the
patron could secure as apprentices
only the poor wretches from the Blind
School. There is where / began to
starve The master and his wife
they were afterwards murdered-were
terrible misers, and the bread-you
got bit cut off for you at each meal
stayed under lock and key the rest
IF Tho firan And n tho nUnninQ at
supper, you should have seen the
missis, in her frowsy black cap, serv
ing out the soup to us and heaving a
sigh every time she dipped the ladle
into the tureen. The two other ,ap-
prentices from the Blind Asylum were
less miserable than l.; they got no
more than but, at least, they
couldn't see the reproachful glare Of
the old witch as she held out my
plate to me-and the worst was
already had my huge appetite. Was
it any fault of mine? l starved there
as apprentice for three years-three
years you can learn the trade in a
month, but the administration can't
know everything and doesn't suspect
mat the cnlldren are Delng eXplOlLea.
All! you are surprised to see me pick
bread up out of the mud! Allez! I'm
used to it. I've picked many crust
out of the barbage heaps, and, when
they were too dry, let them soak
all night in my wash-bowl. Some
times there were finds, to be sure,
half-nibbled buns from schoolboys'
baskets used to hang around the
schools when on errands. And, then
when the apprenticeship was over,
there was the trade that, as I told
you, doesn't half feed its man. Oh,
l tried other things, warrant you.
I put my heart into my work. I've
been shop-boy. mason's boy hoor-pol
isher-God knows what! Bah! One
day the work would give out, the next
T. 7