The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1914-08-27
CHAPTER XXVIII-(Contlnued).

amused smile with which ne mao aQ-
dressed the portrait. you never talk
too much for me, Mademoiselle. 1t Is
q pleasure to me always to heal YOU
vocie," he answered in the deep tone
Of a Frenchman, the tone that has ever
a half not of tragedy, as of some race
memory which centuries do not wipe
out. Only" he went on speaking in
French, one must not talk English.
That is breaking the law, you remem-
Der, Mademoiselle."
She answered very prettily in his
own tongue, in words that halted a
little. VERY well, Monsieur. 1 will do
my best" He still gazed at her smiling,
without speaking. One could under
stand that, to a girl of more s%elf-con-
tanned people, this open homage Of
manner, this affectionate gentleness,
brotherly loyalty. The girls pulse was
beating fast as she made an effort for
conversation. What were you think
ing of as you looked at the fire when
l came in, Monsieur? 1t had an air
Of being something pleasant. Did I not
say all that beautifully" she finished
in English.
serious accuracy and she repeated the
word, and laughed happily.
But you havent's said yet what you
were thinking about"
The large brown eyes turned on
hers. 1T was of my Did home in
France, Mademoiselle, when 1 was very
little" he said simply. "a large fire
of logs makes me think of that"
"Tell me about it," she begged with
quick interest. will you? Was there
always a fire at you house?"
But no, Observation-Disclosures, Of
course, in the summer 1t was Of the
winter time | thought, when the
neighbors came, in the evening, and
we sat about the hearth, sometimes 20
people, each at his different duty, and
my brothers and sisters were there, and
the dear grand-mere was there and
he stopped. Does Mademoiselle really
wish to hear how it was in that old
farmhouse of ours, in the shadow OF
the Jura mountains?'
Indeed, M~ademoiselle wishes it," she
assured him. 1T will be a trip to
Europe. | am sure / shall speak bet
ter French for going to France for 10
minutes, and being among the French
people, your friends. Wait now, till |
an comfortable" She turned a deep
chat so that it faced him, and dropped
into 1t. Put "A footstool for me- she
ordered, as southern women order the
men they care for-and the men they
do not. And she settled back with her
little feet on it and smiled at him. For
- NllS ~ tlol y | ttL
rested on her and the girl saw it and
thrilled to it. Now, monsieur, racon-
tez-moi une historic" she spoke softly.
Francois Beaupre's look turned from
her to the fire, and the air of gazing
at something far away anne again. 1T
IS a picture ] see as l think of that
time of my childhood he began, IS if
speaking to himself. "A picture many
times painted in home-like colors on
my brain. Many a night in the winter
/ have sat, a little boy. by the side of
my grandmother, at that great hearth,
and have looked and have seen all the
faces. harve heard all the voices and
the fire cracking, and the spinning
wheel Wh1rrlng, even as / see them and
hear them tonight. | was always close
by the grandmere, for l was the dear
est of the children to her. Sometimes
long after my bed time / sat there, but
very quietly, for fear that my mother
might remember and send me to bed;
yet she liked to please the grandmere, so
l stayed often longer than the others.
1t was a great room. and across one
corner was the hearth which was
raised like q throne, ~mademoiselle,
from the floor, IL feet wide. One burned
logs six feet long within 1t, and from
up the chimney swung the cremaillere
the chains from which were hung the
Kettles. 1t was the house of a, peasant,
mademoiselle knows, yet it was the
best house in the. village. Often, of a
November night, the neighbors would
come In, perhaps a dozen, perhaps
more, and the young men had their
work-they arranged the flax for spin
ming. 1t might be-and the young girls
prepared apples to dry. and the moth
ers knitting needles flashed back and
forth on the stockings for our winter
wear, and the grandmere would be
spinning linen threads for our clothing
-whirr. whirr-I can hear the low
sound of her wheel. And always I,
Francois, would be on the stool at her
side, watching and listening. For my
father was a great reconteur, and he
told stories of the var and Of the leg
ends OF that country. 1t was an an
cfent country you must know, made
moiselle, and the name of our village
itsef was from the Romans. Vicques
was the name, and that as you know,
mademoiselle, ONE from the Latin
word vicus, a village. So that there
were old castles in ruin In those parts
and tales of buried treasure, and
Ghosts in m guarding 1t, and great
dogs that hreathed flame, and other
things pleasantly horrible to the ear of
q little boy. On the cold nights, as
the fire roared up the chimney and the
grandmothers' wheel whirred softly,
my father and he other men told these
tales, and I listened, quiet as a mouse
In my corner, and from time to time
i saw a young man lean over and
whisper in the a of one Of the girls,
and / wondered why her face became
red Is the freight.
And from time to time one OF the
men, az he talked, rose up and strobe
across the room to the great oak table
where lay always on a wooden plate
q long loaf of black bread, with a knife,
and always a glass and a bottle Of eau
de-vie-brandy. And I remember how
manly 1t looked to me-, watching, when
r saw him take the loaf under his arm
and hold it, and slice off boldly q great
piece Of the fresh rye bread, and pour
out a glass of brandy and toss it of
as he ate the bread. The stories
seemed to grow better after the teller
had done that.
And always I waited. yer through
the tale of he ghost and the fire.
breathing hound. till the talk should
swing round, as 1t did ever toward the
end. to the STORIES OF Napoleon that
were fresh inil mems minds In those
days. It was as IL I sat IN needles be
fore my bedtime came, yet / did not
dare to be restless and move about fol
fear that my mother might send me
suddenly to bed. But I always gave q
sigh OF content and always the grand
mere patted my head softly to hear 1t
when my father cleared his throat and
began
There Is q small thing that hap
|pened when the emperor was march
= ~ - ~ 49, Ia.