Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1928-07-25

nous for their realistic nots.)
knew him when / was but 20 years
old, and although everyone else might
shun him like the plague. saw no
reason for me to do So In fact, at
that age I would have been ready to
take even an exeeutioner for bosom
friend.
He was my neighbor. / was living In
a garret--two floors up, and / had to
take hold of a cord to guide my feet
up the dark stairs. The room in which
/ lived-which means, mostly, that I
used it to sleep ir-was very large and
very cold. II was in many ways like
a prison cell, or like tomb.
My neighbor he was, and his name
was Jacques. He had little girl seven
or eight years old--they lived In the
garnet next to me-and the laughter
of that child brought radiant sunlight
into what would otherwise have been
the dreariest of quarters for me. Father
mother and daughter lived in rooms
no better than my own.
Jacques was rather a queer-loOking
man. He seemed all angles. His head
stuck aslant on his sharp shoulders. A
yellowish. hony face, big. black eyes
bushy eyebrows forbidding, melan-
choly person Just to look at him. Yet
he could display a genuine smile, even
II timid-he was but an overgrown boy
Of so years for he could become as
confused and blushing as any schoolgirl
He seemed to enjoy living In the dark.
He would glide along the walls as hum
BILE as released convict.
We exchanged greetings, as neish-
bors should. He became friendly,
val
Soon We were customarily shaking
hands every evening at meeting.
Yet. even after six months. I did
not know what jacques did for a liv-
ing. He talked very little. Never had
he let word slip which might re-
veal his occupation. I was naturally
though not unduly, curious. In CONVEX
sations with his wife / found the same
reticence-even at times real embarrass-
ment when the subject was brought up.
Then one day, after night of rain,
was passing down street. and hap
pened to notice particularly one of
the pariahs of Paris--a man CARRIED
all in black. from hat TO shoes, save
for white necktie. Under his arm he
carried a narrow wooden box; a CONN
for q newborn babe. This was one
OF the undertaker's helpers. whom
people shun with superstitious dread
and awe.
The socially speaking walk
ed along with lowered head, as though
In shame. Yet was 1t not an honest oc-
cupation? Why should he be obliged
to avoid fellowship with his brother hu-
man beings?
Still. he had become accustomed to
his isolation. He walked along, in light
spirits, kicking pebbles here and there.
As I passed him he raised his head
then turned away quickly. but too late.
had recognized hint was my neigh
Dor Jacques. He made his living serv-
ing the dead.
He walked away from me hastily
ashamed of having TO shun me. I was
sorry had os accidentally discovered
his occupation, since 1t troubled him
So Probably he was thinking that /
would no longer shake his hand, new
that I knew It had touched the dead.
But not so. I liked him in spite of his
gloomy work.
As usual, / met him on the stairs
next day. He tried to make himself as
small as possible, so that ! could avoid
noticing him If wished He fiattened
could pass without 50 much as touch
ing what SO many people would have
regarded as polluted garments.
But stopped beside him. looked
squarely at him with a cheerful smile.
and held out my hand. He returned
my look INSTANTLY Suddenly he took
my arm and went with me 70 my attic
room. there to tell me his sad story
He unburdened his heart TO me. He
had to make living some way. Jobs
we're hard to get His wages were hon.
estly earned. and he did not mind the
stunning of his fellow men. Nor did his
wife mind that so much. But he was
worried about his little girl. Growing
girls are different They soon become
ambitious. and he knew she would,
sooner or later, be ashamed II she learn
ed how her poor father really earned
his living.
I. at 30, was ready-tongued phi
losopher deliberately diScoursed 10