Evening star., 1928-12-10


York found Richard dazed. He
i had the feeling of having
emerged from some horrible
nightmare The sudden deShing of his
illusions and dreams affected him like
real sickness.
BY the time he reached Cherbourg
he had recovered somewhat. In Paris
after a day or so of wandering about,
trying to persuade himself to look up
old friends, he decided to carry out
the declaration he had made to Bob
West. He would go into the provinces
where tourists did not ordinarily go.
He would find some sweet, simple, url-
spoiled peasant girl and carry her back
to America with him as his bride.
The plan did not seem fantastic as
he set out. He determined to walk
after reaching Normandy. But as he
passed by the small farms, watched
the women with their coarse hands,
and the young girls with their demure
eyes and ox-like serenity, he began to
feel slightly ridiculous.
Four days of walking found him
thinking sanely again. 1t had been
crazy to run away from New York. 1t
was not his custom to run. The tungleS
of South America had fascinated nm.
Why not face the wilderness OF New
York in the same manner? BY the end
of the fifth day he had almost resolved
to turn back.
And then he saw Yvonne.
He had mounted a little hill and as
he began to descend he noticed three
peasants working in the field that lay
at one side of the road. 1t was near
sunset and as he approached them
they bent their heads in response to
the faint sweet tone of the Angelus.
Thus it was that he saw Yvonnes
face first as she lifted it from her
prayer.
Richard took off his hat and asked
in his fluent French: Can you direct
me to the nearest house-one where
can get lodging for the night?"
Yvonne smiled at him, but made no
answer Her grandfather spoke.
Our house is over the next hill. II
Monsieur can eat our plain fare, he is
welcome to stay the night"
Richard sat on the stone wall and
watched them while they finished their
work in the field. If Yvonne was con-
scious of his look as it rested upon her,
bending gracefully to the hard toll, she
gave no sign. She and her grand
mother walked behind the two men as
the party went toward the house. When
they had arrived she disappeared, re-
turning in a few moments with
jug of cool wine and two mugs Then
she and the grandmother went into
the cottage to prepare the supper.
In the long shadow of a Lombardy
poplar, the young man and the old
man talked as they slipped their wine.
Richard told Of his hard six years, ex-
ploring the interior of South America
and his desire for change.
But 1 found my country q little
q,Cicx, In 6pichaA
The old man nodded. 81 have heard
Stories" he said. Here, We have few
left to make noise" He sighed. MY
son, my granddaughter Yvonne'S father,
was killed in the war. Her mother
died of a broken heart. We are alone
now with the child. The likely young
men are gone, killed, wounded, fed
from the country to the towns. Where
we will find her betrothed we do not
know. And it is time we arrange her
marriage. She has small dot, and
when We die this farm will be hers"
Richard muSed, "Yvonne. It is
pretty name. And the lass is pretty,
too" He smiled at the old man.
''Yes she Is a good lass. And strong
and willing as we'll" The grandfather
permitted himself to boast a little.
Yvonne could brew and bake. She had
been we'll taught by her grandmother,
his old wife. Reading and writing?
A little. But not too much. Learning
spoiled a woman's head for the finer
things of life Last Spring when the
plowing must be done and his old arms
were weak, Yvonne had borrowed the
horse from the smith and plowed the
field herself. A good man, the smith.
He had asked several times for Yvonne.
The grandmother came to call them
to supper. Richard was to have the
one bedroom that night. Yvonne and
her grandparents would sleep in the
loft. Richard watched the girl go
modeStly and competently about her
tasks, forcing the grandmother to rest
throwing a merry word now and then
at the grandfather.
Lying in bed he made his decision.
He would stay on a few days. If he
could win the confidence of the old
people, the liking of Yvonne, he would
ask her hand in marriage and tske her
back to New York with him. She was
so pretty in her white bodice, laced
with black over a full blue skirt.
He tried to picture her in fashion
able clothes, ner pretty brown curls
shorn into bob. But his imagination
revolted at the picture. He took a re-
solve. If Yvonne went with him he
would exact promise that she would
CLLg 10 neT peasant ways ana HldHueTS
In the evening he sat again with
the old grandfather, gossiping, talking,
hearing stories Of the village.
How does Yvonne come to be so
unlike the other girls around here?"
he asked at length. "They seem so
big, SO clumsy, those have seen be-
side her"
The old man pulled at his pipe.
You Americans like small women"
he observed. Here we wish them to
be hearty and strong. Yvonne is
looked on with disfavor by most of
the marriageable young men about, be-
cause she is so slim, like saint" He
paused. looked keenly at Richard and
then continued. When our boy, our
only son, the child of our old age, was
21, he journeyed to Paris There he
met and married Yvonne's mother
She sold flowers and danced in cafe
But she was good girl. young and
tiny, smaller than Yvonne. When he
went to the front, our son brought his
bride here, that we might protect her
and care for her
She did not like the country. She
was frightened Of it, 1t was lonely for