The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-09-26
Continued from Page 81
AN IpYLL or PROVENCE.

past us. But | noticed she followed
him with her eyes as he stood bare
headed in the rain, a picturesque fig
ure among a crowd OF prosaic bour-
geois.
Monsieur "Mademoiselle!" What
could it all mean?
AS the train ratified through the sill
very, olive-clad fairness, yelled in
drenching rain, I leaned forward.
"You are very young, mademoiselle,
to be travelling alone?"
Madame, l am nearly sixteen. /
landed from Corsica this morning"
(Her eyes filled with tears, but she
made a heroic effort to keep them
back.) 81 landed at Marseilles.'
From Corsica! Then you have had
a long Journey
Eyes, it is long. My mother came
with me to Marseilles, and put me into
the train. l saw you on the platform,
madame, at Aries"
"Have you much farther to go?"
She stood up, pulled down the bun
die from the rack, and untying it's
knots, extricated after a good deal of
fumbling a very dirty little piece of
paper, which she handed to me. At
the top was the address of one of
those converts which for some mex
plicable reason the Government of to-
day has permitted to continue in
France-perhaps because the nuns are
useful in nursing the poor, or serve in
hospitals, or teach some useful trade,
gratis, to young girls.
"But, my child, this is very long
and difficult journey You must change
at Mines, then again at Alois. From
there you must take the light railway
to --. What happens them"
Il am going to the Soeurs de st.
Joseph, madame. 1t is long drive
from . They will send their
cart to meet me. l do not reach the
convent till eleven tonight"
"And this is your first visit to
France?"
but yes, madame. l have never
left our village"
well, will tell you exactly what to
do at Mines. wish could wait and
see you into your train at Alois, but
you have an hour before it starts, and
| have a very important engagement
at Montpelier. You must go to the
waiting-room, which | will show you
and sit there until your train starts
But l see you have food with you
Why not eat something now? You
will be less tired later on
| From the blue bundle she .obediently
extricated lump of bread, a piece OF
goat s-milk cheese, two figs, and a
small black bottle of thin red wine
On these she proceeded to lunch,
watching me under her eyelashes
while | once more addressed myself
to my book. At last She tied up the
bundle and restored it to the rack
volunteering as she did so an observa
| ton.
Il am going to the Soeurs de ST.
Joseph to teach silk-weaving, she
said.
You must be quite an expert to
come all the way from Corsica on pur
pose for that" | answered, smiling.
'It is the meter Of my village,
she said I'VE are all silk-weavers
It is beautiful silk-the best! There
are many mulberry trees. We keer
silk-worms, who eat the leaves, and
we spin their cocoons. Most of oul
silk goes to Lyons. 1t was the Rev
erend Mother of the convent in my
village who arranged with my mother
that l should go to the Soeurs de St
Joseph for five years"-her voice fal
tered-"we were poor and we needed
the money. There are nine of u.s.
But, my poor child; do you mean
that you are going to stay five years
in France without returning to Cor
sica."
Isl, si!" she said, so pathetically
that my heart melted for pity of her
She was such heroic little creature
Then she explained how the Sisters
were anxious to start a silk-weaving
industry on a much larger scale than
their existing one. She was to teach
a number of the nuns, first; and Their
they were to open school. The sill
would go to Lyons. That was all ar
ranged.
And you are not afraid of the re
sponsibility?'
ooh, no, madame. 'C'est nor
METER"
Mines was only half.an-hour dis
tant, now, and as yet | had said nj
word of warning to this ignorant little
girl who had faced a journey, to hel
so tremendous, all unprotected ant
alone.
"Have you friends at Tarascon
mademoiselle?''
"Alas, no, madame. l know no on
in France"
Then that young man who accom-
. panied you-he was not your brother? 2
"Oh, no, madame. He was no rela
ton"
But your friend, perhaps?"
mo, madame, he was not friend.
) "Then," l said bluntly, who was he
, my chld?"
Madame, l do not know?"
; you do not know"
''No, madame; | do not know hi
name.'
, Then, my poor child, how did yo1
t come to be with him."
1T was thus, madame. He was tray
: elling, like me, from Marseilles. H
! saw my mother bid me goodbye in tn
L