Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1907-07-24

with bachelors litter Of old books,
boots and firearms. n
Next morning, determined that pro.
{anation Like that Of the previous
night should not happen again, he re-.
solved to turn this lumber room, where
he had temporarily deposited the prec-
fous remains. into "a mortuary chapel,
and gave instant orders for cathe-
dral window and niche and altar TO
be placed beneath 1t.
There the urn was again enshrined.
but the lilies and roses had given
place to immortelles. Some days lat
er, perceivtng that these had lost color
from lack OF air and light, Durande
had them changed for garlands OF
Sevres and bisque of the costliest
character, and thus the urn stood
peacefully in this calm retreat.
Two years OF widowhood len thened
to three, and Durande took unto him.
self second wife. Why, he couldn't
have told you. Certainly 1t was not
case OF desperate love, though the
new Nine. Durande was charming
woman.
No, he had but one excuse for re-
filing the empty niche in his life
Nine. Durande the second was exceed.
ingly like Nine. Durande the first,
with one exception-she was jealous
A jealousy that caused her to look
with suspicion on every one, word,
or gesture; and the knowledge that
he still retained tender memories OF
the dead would have caused her tenn
restuous anger.
Durande no longer dared to keep
the urn in conspicuous place. It
was quietly and secretly third time
removed from its quarters and rev.
erently stored in spare room in the
mansarde. Matters grew better as
time wore on; peace and happiness
reigned with the young couple, and
more than once Durande, in this at.
mosphere of renewed content, was on
the verge Of unbosonr:ng himself and
,confiding to his wife the mystery Of
the urn. Alas! his courage always
failed him.
In due time a son was born to the
house of Durande, and Nine. Durande.
found 1t necessary to clear out and
use the room where the urn lay for.
gotten. AS for Durande himself, the
joy OF a new-made father dissipated
all remorse in his heart, and, to cele-
.brate the christening with due pomp
and splendor, Invitations were sent
Tar and wide for magnificent din
ner
But, my DEAR" said his wife, as
he came In from the barracks the
day Of the great event, don't go to
your dressing-room till you have seen
the table, the flowers arranged with
with my own hands,"
Arranged! A great, heaping cluster
OF blood-red roses-in an antique,
strangely familiar Roman urn, which.
held the place OF honor on the sumpt-
uous board!
Durand bent closer. His wife saw
him start
Yes said she, complacently, "'tis
yours. you dear old STUPID! to throw
away. as you have done, the hand,
soonest thing collected in your trip
to Italy. 1t was up in the garnet,
filed with dust; heaven knows how
long 1t has been there!" :
"Wiwith dust!" stammered Du-
rande. white as death, "and and what
did you do with 1t. the-the dust?"
Threw 1t on the rose pots, dearest,
that is, what the wind didn't scatter.
But the effect-isnt 1t lovely?"
Very, very lovely!" murmured the
soldier. with a strangled sigh. And
in the fresh, fragrant flowers, whose
petals parted, softly like the lips ofta
young girl to the first kiss of love.
Durande believed that he saw the
tender smiles and bushes of his dear.
dead wife, Translated from the
French for Short Stories Magazine by
q. G. Waggener.