Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 May 1883 — BESIDE THE ANTE. [ARTICLE]

BESIDE THE ANTE.

Every one at Falaise "khoWthfe fetory of the mother of William the by heart. They trouble themselves very z little aboqt the of modern im ' vestigatiSn in regard io the real facts ift the case, these good folk of Falaise. They see no reason for doubting any part of the story they have always known. They will show yon with pride the beautiful old church of St. Gervais, and its not distant neighbor In the Grande Place, La Sainte Trinite; but they will bid you look longest at the great bronze statue of the' Conqueror in the center of the Grande Place. And it is well worth looking at. The Norman hero is mounted on a spirited horse, represented as plunging impetuously forward, and the King, in a suit of mail, and with visor up and grasping a lifted lanpe and pennon in his hand; is turning, as if to beckon an army on to victory. ' 5 “It is most wonderful,” the folk of Falaise will say to you, as you and they gaze at the warrior figure of whose hs- - they are so proud. But they have more to show you than this; for then they will take you up the hill and through the arched gateway of the castle. On the ramparts is a quiet, grassy walk, well shaded by trees, there is a school up here above the town and an old twelfth century chapel. But you have not been brought to look at these. You go, instead, into the castle keep, and there you will be shown a double-arched window, with a stone pillar in the center.hnd' looking out of this you will gaze into a deep, narrow valley very far below, tlwough which winds the river Ante, its eurface visible only here and there among the trees. On the other side frowns a steep range of hills, the steepest of all being known as Mont Mirat.

“From this window,” says your companion, “Count Robert first saw Ar"lette;” and then you are told how the youth of 18, looking down into the val-i ley of the Ante, saw the women an<f girls washing clothes in the stream; just as you see them doing now, eight centuries latef, and among them saw the beautiful Arlette, the tsnner’i daughter, and seeing, fell in love! You look down at the women below. You can just catch the sound of their voices but you cannot distinguish one from the other. If the story you have hfeard is true, lave, in RqJjert’s’case, at least, was not blind, but most extraordinarilv sharp-sighted. Be^lttCfJ| itftfiy, he afterward made her Dudhess <rf'‘ Normandy, and you are shown a litcre cell in the castle where their son, the Conqueror, was born, unless the historians are right who say that William was not born in this castle at (iQ. Afterward you will be taken to the top of Talbot’s tower, a hundred feet higher, from which a most magnificent view can be had; but since this tower, built by English King Henry the Fifth, can i' no way be associated with, William, ft | has but little interest for your Falaise companion.

Another day you go to the washing place beside the Ante, and watch the women-and girls chattering and laughing at their work and of the young Robert catching sight of his beautiftri Arietta in just; su<ii Another group of Workers eight .centuries before. Here the river rUris through a sluiceway, made for the use of the washers, and here are great square tanks heaped high with, peaking garments, the whole protected from the. weather by sheds. Each one pays 3| sous a day for the privilege of washing! here, but must furnish her own and carrosse for beating the clotheiv wd* one of the white-capped women wm ! perhaps inform you. Beyond are openair tanks, where those who have no 3 sous to spare may wash for nothing ! You wonder if there is an Arlette* among any of theWWttnen. They not very beautiful; ytnj. thifdL But as you stand at; the arched entrance to the washing-place you do not see aM the women, and, even if you Vqu would not know which was named Aflette, if there were one of that name there. Yet there “is an Arlette there, and, if you had been told of it, I think it would not have been difficult discover her.' Arlette must be beautiful to bear out her right to the name, you imagine; and,you, within the archway, are not much impressed with the faces, you see. But this modern Arlette is among the’ pooretwomen beside the Ante, ana top far off for you to. see her There .hag ab&ys Jfogp wleitil among the aOnMB ifSI a favorite name at FaUise, anjLnometimes there have beeil mwwhfpnßit at J present there is bat one —• Arietta Lechasseur, the daughter of a shoe-1 maker in the Faubourg St; Lwtfrent. Well, she knows the atory ,o| Adette, the tanner’s daughter, ve# proud she is of her name., . We have only tradition to assure us that the first Arlette was beautiful/ but it needs no second glance to convince us that Arlette Lechasseur is so. If only there were another Count Robert'to so«J -But she has too much sense to etJ4ct a Count or any other noble personage to come »ud make love to her there beside the

Ante, even if she is pretty. ;; I “Where is thy Count Robert, ArLEtte ?” wom ®“ abmefimes say ■PWWIH**’ goqgffasurQa/augn. Yet she has dreams of her own never* to be sure, but they sweefen qxiaHME to her. East yearAhe-feirtf of GulI>ra e that, per-' never gets begpßifi the “perhaps" in ils. ' T.iw- thmty Harmaß feswt <M&|rn<ir'ry ®w-who- <’*” ■ «»<• fishing, nd the So j not d a “perhaps,” as I Maid beflffi boule learutpbecantwit v.th a vbj«Bttle, j And peasant to dreams. From her washing-place up at the grffif <%iff on ’fflHf’lty stands. Except for a few patches of furze and heatiwr, the gray rock is almost bar^,andcliff and which is ea&tje wall. ■&hard ’to tell, ..for the wall is at the- edge of the cliff, and Seems as if it might be a part of it, so Amd, high above all, the Talbot tower appears almost to touch the sky.’ Arlette has often been to the very top, but she does not like looking down into the valley so well as gazing up at the castle-crowned cliff. From where she is plying her carrosse she can see Count Robert’s window and the vine sprays hanging dowp from the opening. Then she thinks of the tanner’s daughter and Count Robert. Now and then she can see some one leaning from the window and looking dmm t into the valley, as that handsome stripling may have leaned and looked eight centuries before. But she doefc not imagine that any one can distinguish her frone the other women beside the .Ante. She knows very well,that the distance is too groat for that now. Perhaps eyesight was" better in Count Robert’s time she think* lint the day comes when some frffln Bert’s window does see her. It is a young Normandy, burdened only by knapsack -i-A.'tTrsim ■>“ tola Irtm'-rmre visit at jue .ftbieet haOt W he> washing finds •.!>. side the Ante. The .jglfef mj|p#erfu|one, flb flqjthe can •■setrner Wry distinctly a'thfhdrbeats the soaped linen with her carrosse, and afterward rinses the garments in the clear running water;’and he watches her a lon/f time. At last, however, he puts down the glass, and, after giving his guide a fee, he comes down from the castle alone.

Bui it is no youth-of 18 who sees this modern Arlette, but a man at least eight years older, who has looked»upon many beautiful faces before .this. Why should tlus one attract him especially ? But it does interest him, and he means to See more of it, as Count Robert likewise resolved long before. But the Amestafch is quite as handsome as any jpediaw.al Co W Cftn .possibly have been, though, as his figure is rather under the heroes were men of commanding height. But the clear, olive complexion, dark hair and eyes and delicate mustache, sweeping up at the ends in long curves, Count Robert probably did not boast. More than one woman had looked at this young American with admiring eyes, and he knew very well that he was handsome—perhaps had at one time been a little VStuof the fact—but now, at 26, he merely,Adepts it as a piece of good fortune. Anyone looking at the firm curves of the mouth would see evidences.of abundant strength of purpose. Whether it would be exercised with any higher aims thin obtaining hi* own way was the question. He had al way s - had it without mucp trouble, and he wfts.not more selfish than most w&n. JR/'iP \ As the hilj/hia mind 14 full of thw pfetty face hp>has just seen. Arid, not ? He is taking life easily this summer. When he returns to America his work awaits him, into which he means to plunge in sober earnest ; but at present he is enjoying life, and has plenty of room for vagrant fancies in his mind. But it is a long distance down the hill to the washing sheds beside the Ante, and he is not familiar enough with the town to find the nearest way; so that, by the time he reaches the arch entrance, many of the women have gone, and among them Arlette. Those who remginglfcice slyly At him, pointment. He meant to have gone back to Oden the next day, but now he decides to remain in Falaise another day; in the hope of getting a nearer view of the pretty face he has seen from the castle window. And chance is favorable to him that very day, for, ing just at sunset through the Faubourg* St. Laurent, he sees Arlette standing at her father’s door. The young fellow, menially noting the nature of her father’s business, for Guy Lechasseur can be seen through the entrance busy at Bk, sawiiT 1 * s vfry llndWg,” Tfllre4nio Falaise.” J,

“Good evening, my pretty one,” says the stranger. “Can I see M. LechasffiHW toward jnd, the American explains that he would like to be measured fon> pgif walking shoes. “They must be very easy and comsays, “for I walk a ? reat ‘■Hub yes, Monsieur/ jßesponds the father of Arlette, “I know what you would hawe- Cgnje in, And it shall be done at Onoe. - 'Arlette, my child, thou •* The hoaeeb sheemaker is a little excited at this sudden order from a’ foreigner, and speaks hurriedly. “Arlette, my daughter, is more precise than I can" be with the measurehq>emajLgins to eyes than nfine,-vou must kndw. fl * Th&othnr smiled at this. He js jery <NIw i w ri irftif^ rran « em^M!and • ’little—fog jfis a new her to have aark eyes bent on ireMo as now—does as her father desires. “Remember, I am very particular,” says the young man, when she has nearly completed her task. “I should not like to be- badly fitted. Will it not be be«t to repeat the measure, so as to be sure?” u. -w* > “But yes, monsieur,” responds Guy, “it is best to be sure. Jt is very pleasant, this unlooked-for

little incident, and the young man determines to enjoy it. Arlette, kneeling before him the better to do what she is About, ventures one shy glance at his face, but, finding him looking tenderly st her, bends down her head. Yet on no pretext can he prolong the situation but after Arlette is through he remains to talk with the girl and her father. “Falaise is very beautiful,” he says to Arlette, after Guy has returned to his work, and the girl, at her father’s request, goes with him a few steps to point out a nearer way to the Hotel de Normandie than the route by which he came. “Does monsieur really think so ?” is her response. “I am very glad, for monsieur must know that I love Falaise. ” *Yes, it is very beautiful,” he repeats ; “but I know what is much more beautiful still,” he adds;- and there is no mistaking his meaning, even if the little pressure he gives her hand had been omitted. “Monsieur must not say such things," she says, slowly, after a pause. “But I shall say such things, because they are true, my pretty one. Look at me, Arlette.” They are in a narrow lane by this time, where there is no one but themselves.

“Look at me, Arlette,” he said again. She does look at him, with her sweet, wondering face. In the gathering twilight he can yet see the soft curves of her lips and cheeks. He can not help it that he puts his arm about her; and it'is all so new, so strange to her, that she does not resist him. “Does Arlette know that she is very beautiful?” he says, gently, and then draws her closer to him. “I must go back, now,” she says, simply, and so he releases her. “Monsieur will find the way now, doubtless, if he will remember to take the next turn to the right,” she continues, when he has taken away his arm. “Yes,” he replies, “it will be very easy; and now this is for showing me the way,” and he puts a silver coin in her hand, ajpl then, moved by a sudden impulse, kisses her once, twice, and* She is not angry with him when she is alone once more. Something new and sweet has come into her life, and it has all been so sudden that she is bewildered a little. But she does not try to analyze her feelings. She knows only that this foreigner, who looks so fondly and speaks so tenderly, has told her that she is beautiful and has kissed her. And that is quite enough for Arlette now. She wonders, as she goes homeward, if Count Robert could have looked like this stranger. She thinks of him all that night, and on the morrow, and as she stands at her washingtank beside the Ante, she is thinking of him still. Foolish little Arlette 1 But what should one do when one is but 18, and has been kissed by the handsomest man one has ever seen? Surely one need not be very angry or try to forget. The morning is half gone when she sees him entering the archway to the washing-sheds, but he does not see her. She hears his voice in good-humored passing chat with the woman there. What if he should not see her. At last he comes out the shed toward the free tanks. Surely, he must see her now. But he stops for a word with Babette and Susette, with Dorothee and Gertrude before he comes to her.

“Ah, my pretty one,” he says carelessly, as if this were the first time he had seen her ; but a look in his face tells her that he remembers, and she understands why he spoke to all the women oh the way. He has a sketch-book with him, and now, as he leans against a post near her, he takes a pencil and sketches rapidly. Now and then he says a word to her, and the women near by look at him in the pauses of their work with shy, admiring glances. At last he holds up a paper. . “Would you like to see, my good friends?” he says to the women; and then Babette, Susette, Dorothee and Gertrude crowd about him and examine his drawing with voluble exclamations of delight. “There thou art, Dorothee, to the life,” says one. “And there is Susette,” says another; “and monsieur has drawn me, too, ” she adds in- great glee. “Would you like to show this to your friend under the shed ?” suggests the artist; and, this appearing to be exactly what they do wish, off go the four girls, not observing that Arlette does not accompany them. “See here, Arlette,” says the Ameriean wlirn. they are alone. He holds up another paper on which he has sketched Arlette just as she looked when he saw her .at her father’s door. “Am 'Mike that?” she says timidly, and blushing a little. “Only a thousand times prettier,” he gays jmpulsivejy; and then, while no ohaobserving them, he showers a doZen kisses on her face and neck. And what should Ariette do? Soon the women came back with the drawing. “They say,” said Dorothee, nodding her head in the direction of the sheds, monsjegr must make a picture of them.*' “Very veil,” says the young man, and i he goes back to the sheds. Ha is gone some time, but at last Arlette hears murmurs of delight from the sheds, and she knows that the draw-, ing is finished. Soon afterward he returns. 1

“Bonjour,” he says to Susette and the others. “Bonjour, ma petite,” says to Arlette in a low tone, as he takes up his cane, which had been left on the ground beside her, “Arlette will see me again,” and then he goes on his way beside the Ante. “Bonjour, monsieur,” scream the women after him when he is almost out ofjflghi; and at this he turns and wayes In hat. They will talk about the handsome foreigner beside the Ante for many a long day. By mid afternoon Arlette goes home, and soon afterward an errand for her father takes her away from the house for an hour. “Monsieur has been here,” says Guy, when she returns, “and he would have liked to say adieu to thee, for he was going away.” “Going away,” repeated Arlette faintly. "But yes. my daughter, there was news from America that caused him to go at once, he said to me. And he could not wait for the shoes, but paid me the money and told me to give them to some one who needed them. I wish him a good journey, for he has done well by me, and not every one would think to remember that he owed an old shoemaker like thy father, Arlette. America is over the sea, they tell me, and be can not yet behalf way to Vm,"

concludes the old man, drawing out Jus waxed thread slowly. Is it really true that she shall see him no more ? This is the one thought that fills Arietta’s mind. lt is this that sends her supper less to bed. It is this that causes her to rise in the morning with eyes that are red with weeping, and that have not been closed in sleep the night through. Foolish little Arlette, to weep for one who will soon forget her! She does not go to her work that day, but a day later sees her back with the others, a little pale, but that is all the difference. ’ * * The summer goes and the autumn comes, and the red leaves float along the winding Ante. The women are still talking of the foreigner who came and sketched them all so wonderfully one day. The summer goes and the autumn comes, and the young American is back in his law office deep in his work and his future plans. He has not thought of Arlette since his return. His sketchbook lies on an upper shelf where he tossed it when first unpacking, and he has not thought to look at it since. A privileged friend comes into his office one morning, and, turning over o-e thing after another, lights upon the sketch-book, and taking it down begins to examine its contents. “By Jove!” he "exclaims, “that is a lovely face. Where did you come across so much beauty, old fellow ?” It is Arlette’s picture that the visitor is gazing at. The other turns to see what his old friend has, and suddenly there flashes over him the memory of those two days at Falaise. How sweet she was, that little girl beside the Ante!

“It is just a study, ” he replies, carelessly. “A study?" repeats his friend incredulously, and then the drawing is laid away with the others. But in replacing the volume the drawing falls unnoticed to the floor, face downward, and the office-boy, that evening seeing it lie there like a piece of waste-paper, tosses into the wastebasket, and liter it goes to the ragman with the other paper. And Arlette is still beside the Ante. She never thinks now of the one she met at the fair in the Faubourg of Guibray, but always of him who came so suddenly into her life, with his handsome face and his tender words, and who went out of her life so suddenly. Only two days I But the sweet pain of those two days will linger a whole lifetime in one tender little heart beside the Ante. What if she should once more see him there by the archway! And she looks often that way with a vague hope. The Arlette of eight centuries ago was happy in her Count Robert, who loved her. There are no Counts Robert now, and Arlette is still at her work beside the Ante, and the slow seasons come and go, and life is long and remembered kisses sweet. Foolish little Arlette I- 2 The Continent