The Lafayette advertiser. [volume] (Vermilionville [i.e. Lafayette], La.) 1865-19??, 1908-01-21
The Little
!. LaundreSS
(Copyright.)

That was how he happened to see her
.irst. The clerk was busy turning oveS
package after package in his search
for the one bearing Clifford's name.
He returned the little laundress'
glance with a quick flash of admira.
ton, she was so pretty, so unusually
pretty, with SO pathetic an expression
In her big blue eyes. His glance swept
across the ironing-room filled with
laundry girls of every age and descnp
ton. Many of them were fairly pref
ty, but none of them came up to his
little %laundress for real beauty. Sh<
shone amongst them like a gem.
rs this your bundle?" asked the
clerk.
Clifford looked long at the name,
written seemingly in hieroglyphics.
Eyes," said he, discovering at last
some letters that reminded him dimly
of his own name, and he still re.
manned after the clerk had counted
out his change, looking at the pretty
little laundress, patiently ironing away
at the linen of worthless fellows like
himself. Perhaps she mad ironed his
own. He took up the bundle tenderly.
It had suddenly become precious to
him.
Her face haunted him. How pretty
she was! Entirely too pretty to work
as she did. Heavens! Couldn't she
find some easier work than that? To
think of standing on ones feet all
day long day after day ironing! He
could hardly imagine anything more
tfresome.
In his studio, he found himself ccn-
stantly drawing her face on bits of
paper with a pencil. Failing in catch
ing the likeness, he tore up these lit
tie papers and made numerous
sketches of her in black and white,
the lifelessness of which Knocked at
the beauty of her features. In the
course of time the studio came to be
strewn with these Indifferent sketches
and still he had failed to catch the
features Of the laundress in their rare
perfection.
May l ask who it isl" said his
friend Wonderly, who in the interim
Of his law studies made Clifford's stu
do his loafing place.
my IDEAL" answered Clifford short
", and indeed by this time that is
what the little laundress had become
One evening as he stood on the cor
ner opposite the laundry-it had be
come a habit of his lately to haunt
those morning and evening
worshiping her from afar-she ap
peared' at the door and glanced up al
the clouds. With her blue eyes raised
thus, he thought she had the look Of
a madonna.
He followed her at a discreet dis
lance, absorbed in the pearliness Of
her skin, and the witching curls that
hung ciingingly to her white neck
Was there ever anything SO exquis
lite.
Meanwhile the laundress walked
briskly into a narrow street, and low
ering her umbrella, entered a cottage
exactly like every other cottage in tht
row, neat, square and covered will
morning-glOries. Losing her thus
Clifford turned back and went hom'
to his studio. where in the waning
light he tried in vain to reproduce he,
face. It eluded him like a willO-the
wisp. He squeezed out color afte
color again and again, mixing II
brushfuls rather than with the knit
to avoid muddying. but careful as h
was. the colors were not ito be CON
pared with the transparent beauty Q
her skin as he remembered it. H
mixed the blue of her eyes with tn
carnation Of her cheks, but failed t
reproduce the faint purple beneatl
her eyes. He found his Ochres to
chromish. There was no yellow in hi
paint box the color of her hair, whic
was like the hair on the heads of yer
young children, pure gold, beautiful
all his alchemist art failed to produc
anything like it.
He tossed his brushes aside in de:
pair, and flinging himself in a chat
by the window, leaned out. The raj
I fell silently like tears. The smell G
the wet grass rose gracefully to hi
window, mingled with the odor OF
bed of mignonette on the plot b,
meath. These tranquil odors and tn
calm of the quiet night failed to que
his ~restlessness and disappointment
He had made q miserable failure. H
was elways making miserable fai
ures. He wondered if all artist
grieved over their mistakes as ne dj'
He began to wish that he had chose
some other occupation in life.
At that moment, a natty bank cler
assembled the steps across the stree
furled his umbrella, brushed the rail-
drops from his coat sleeves and el
tered his boarding house. He ha
often seer him returning from h
work and envied him. His life We
possibly prosaic enough In all pro
ability he went through . daily trea'
mill of work mapped out for him Wit
out Yariations. but he rested we
when that work was done. There wei
no poor drawingS - grin hideously
him from studio wallA, no ruined a.
voeoe vovnA M far than 9kelotol