Year: 1879

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And oftener and oftener now, Hans noted
certain M. Andre Leroux come up the mar:
row street of an evening, to walk up and
down in the twilight with his opposite neigh
Dor.


Each time the sight of the spruce French
Aower.maker-for Andres trade was the
same as Rose's-sent throb OF pain to the
great honest heart of Hans Gottlieb. But
he did not repine, did not blame Rose. 1t
was one of the many misfortunes Of not be.
ing rich, that was all. But not cause for
complaining, only burden, like so many
others that fall to the lot of the poor man
part of his days work.


It was not so often now that Rose Cordler
ran across in the cleaning to ask how his
work progressed, and the neighbors ceased to
gossip and nod their heads when they saw
them speak to one another. "It was changed,
all that they had thought likely to come to
pass-the wind was in another quarter now
they could see, ah yes, it was not difficnlt to
see what was coming


Only the children did not forsake Hans,
but were just as eager to talk with him and
run after him as in the days when there was
no spruce Frenchman to share with him the
honor of the narrow street.


Then came morning when Hans, as he
worked saw couple issue from the opposite
house, followed by as many neighbors as could
spare holiday Rose, with late Gloire de
Dijon in her belt, bright color on her cheeks,
and her eyes shining with pride and happi,
ness, and her hand on Andres arm.


"Good morning, Hans" she cried, in her
sweet voice, as she passed his open door. 81
am going to be married this morning, but we
will not take the wedding holiday till Sunday.
If you can come, do" And then passed on
before there was chance of saying more
than "a happy future" That evening, as
Hans worked at the rose. .wreath-it was near
ly completed now-he chanced to look across
to the window where he had so often seen the
bent head and the trim figure. But tonight
the lamp was lit, for it soon grew dark now,
too soon for work to be relinquished with the
twilight, and on the blind was the reflection
of two heads and four busy hands.


Hans did not look again; drew down his
own blind then, and, with sigh, went back
to the carving of his delicate rose leaves.


But after that evening he gave up bis lit
tie room, packed his few goods, and made up
his mind to 60 away-to 60 to Rome, that
haven of ambitious minds.


Now that the little savings were not all to
be boarded against the day when they might
be wanted for another, it was no use guarding
them any more. Better, so Hans decided, to
use them in going away to where daily bread
might perhaps be easier come by than in this
narrow German town where, perhaps, even
the carvings he was so fond Of might gain him
congenial work, and allow him to put on one
side this other work that occupied him now.


Besides, if the worst came to the worst, and
he did drift into utter poverty, it did not so
much matter now.


And with that "now," Hans buried the
past and started forth on his travels.


First, however, he went across the street,
and for the first time entered Roses domain,
Nine. Leroux, as he had to call her.


II have come to wish you goodbye, mad
ame," he said "And see, have brought
you as parting present the little wreath. 1t
is finished now."


He laid it down as he spoke among the
colored roses on the table, between monsieur
and madame as they sat at work.


"Oh !! that is good of you, very good" cried
Rose, the ever-ready tears coming into her
eyes, "And so you are going away? All |!
my husband" turning toward spruce, neat
figured M. Leroux, "thou must also wish
monsieur Hans 'God-speed, for in the old
days before was married, he was always a
kind friend to me. And see, also, what a
beautiful present he has brought US.


At his wife's words M. Andre stood up


"Monsieur is amiable, most amiable! Any
friend of madame is dear to the heart of An
Dire Leroux! Let me wish you bon voyage
and much prosperity" Then there was a
brief farewell from Hans, few tears from
Rose, another bow from M. Andre, and
Gottlieb had departed, and the husband and
wife were left alone.


1T is graceful, very, graceful" said the
Frenchman, lifting the parting gift of Hans.
Zone would scarcely have thought his great
hands could have fashioned such thing.
When it grows dark, dear wife, if you fetch
a nail and piece Of cord, will myself at
tach it to the wall p


"It is pretty" said his wife. 81 always
thought so, but now, Andre, that | see it
among all these red roses, am sure that what
said of it at first is quite true-it wants
colorw


"You have it exactly, my wife," replied
M. Lesoux, with fond appreciation of Roses
cleverness "That is just what it needs-but,
then, we can not have everything" And M.
Andres gaze returned with much satisfaction
to the crimson roses before him.


1t would have surprised this couple, per-
haps, if they could have seen on into the
coming years, if they could have listened to
the words of a world-renowned collector Of
the beauties ofart


"He only did two of them" he was ad
dressing some three or four eager listeners in
a London ballroom -"the one that he did
for Lvieson, and which first made him famous.
You never saw it? Why, it is marvellous
The curl of the leaves, the very dew Oh the
fresh petals; it is wonderful. would have
given him anything he asked for one like it.
But, poor fellow, as you know that he was
famous.


However, when I was last in Friedrich
burg, his native town, and striving to find
out all l could about him-if he haddone
anything before he went to Rome-there, in
that wretched, narrow street, as was telling
you before, found this facsimile of his great
est work-a presant to sweetheart, | sup
pose. They had told me she knew him, that
he used to live opposite to her, so / called to
see if could CLEAN anything about him, and
there, hanging up on the wall, l saw that
very wreath that had been haunting me for
monthsw


"How did you persuade her to part with
it%