Rensselaer Union, Volume 11, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 October 1878 — MY QUEEN. [ARTICLE]

MY QUEEN.

I am a Frenchman; my name is Paul LeMoyne; my home is in Yarenne, where I was brought up by uncle, the ln the little home, within sight of the great mill-wheel, my aunt bustled about, with a white handkerchief round hqr head and a white apron covering her blue gown, from morning until night. Everything was clean and bright; everything was pretty. Mannette lived very near us. She was a little younger than I. She was a modest little creature. One could not call her pretty, though she had a good face and a neat figure. She was always pleasant, always goodhumored, always busy as a bee. No one could help liking her; but no one fell in love with her. She was, as I have said, not a beauty, and she was poor. She would have no portion. She could not afford fine dress and ornaments. Beside Marcelle she looked as a little brown house-sparrow looks beside some gay tropical bird. Marcello might have been a Queen. Her father was rich. She would have a portion worth counting when she married. She had all that beauty needs for its adornment. She had no cares, no anxieties, and •if Marcelle gave me her hand for the dance 1 was proud, and the other young men envied me. When I danced with Mannette it was out of kindness, because I would not slight a neighbor, a neighbor who had been so kina, too, for when I had the fever, which made everyone else fear to approach the house, Mannette came and nursed me, and, when 1 was better, never wearied of amusing me. “ 1 would thou wert my sister, little friepd!” I had said to her then. She answered: “ Call me sister; it will be the same.” But as I, looked at her I saw a strange, sad look steal across her face. “ Art thou weary with all thy watching, little sister P” 1 She smiled and shook her head, and said: “ No.” But 1 was troubled. * -

Oh! Mannette was pleasant, sitting at the flroside in the winter time knitting deftly and rapidly, the firelight glinting in her black eyes and on the black waves of her hair. She was full of chat then, and laughed merrily, and 1 liked to sit near her and' listen as I watched her fingers fly; but when we were in gay company I forgot her for Marcelle. Marcelle was beautiful and a coquette. Now she smiled on one, now on another. You never knew what to hope or what to fear. Mannette was, always the same. If she liked once, it was forever. I believe that I was in love with Marcelle, and I knew- that I—loved Mannette. The night that English folk call Twelfth-night is with us the Fete dcs Hois. On that night there was always a dance at Varenhe, and a large cako was baked. Targe enough for every man present to have a piece. In it was put a bean. Before the dancing began the cake was sliced and served; whoever received the slice in which the bean was placed had the right to choose the prettiest girl in th 4 parts, to be his Queen for all the time of the fete, to dance with her, to walk with her; in fact, to devote himself to her as entirely as he pleased. The man who drew the bean was called the King. Naturally he was envied by all the men and every girl was eager to be chosen. —ls I drew the -bean*-Marcelle shouldbe my Queen, and there would be an opportunity to say a few sweet words, ana pave the way; to what I meant to say one day; or, indeed, I might even thanaakherto be mywife. Who would not be proud of such aTbrldeP And she smiled very kindly on me. I dressed myself in my best, and looked among the potted flowers my qunt kept upon her window-sill for a flower for my button-hole. But there were no flowers of the colpr I wanted there. I knew Mannettehadsome; her flowers always bloomed bravely, and I ran down the road to the little nouse to ask for one. The door was open and I slipped in; All was-quiet.—The polished floor shone with the rubbing it had had, so thak.it reflected the., swinging cage-in which a canary bird fluttered and sang. Through the muslin curtains the golden sunlight fell upon the snowwhite walls. Every small pane in the diamond lattice was bright as a gem. The copper pans glittered. The. to wers bloomed in a row on the windowsill. Mannette had made her poor little home beautiful with the work of her * oWtrsmaH- hands. “But where was she? No matter. I would take a flower and tease her with the story of hpw a thief had entered her house. What I wanted was a scarlet geranium. There it was. its velvet petals glowing warm and bright amidst its

green leaves. I took out my knife And out it off. Then I went to the glass to arrange it in my coat, and, standing there, I heard a little murmur. Mannette was talking to some onedn the next room. Softly I thrust my head in at the door, which was ajar. It was a little bedroom, bare and white, save for an image of the Virgin. Before this knelt Mannetto, dressed in her poor best for the fete. Her back was toward me; her head was bowed; her hands clasped. She was praying: I heard her murmur: “ Have pity on me. Take this wicked jealousy from my heart. Let me not envy Marcelle her beauty and her wealth; and if they buy for her tho love I cannot win, because I am not fair, and am poor and without charms, let me not cherish evil thoughts. Oh,* help me, pity me, comfort me!” I heard her weep, and I stole away. Out in the open air I stood still. Something had come to that I did not yet understand. It was as when one born blind receives his sight for the first time. I went to the Fete des Rois. What a crowd was there! Around tho great hall, which was prepared for dancing, hung evergreen boughs and artificial flowers. The musicians had come. The girls were all on tip-toe with excitement, for now four men staggered'in, bearing the great cake amongst them. It was covered with frosting, and looked like a mound of snow. Pere Louis took the knife to cut it. How quickly the slices of e.ake flew from his hand to those most eagerly extended for them! Each looked earnestly at his cake. As he bit it some laughed,some scowled. But suddenly 1 felt between my lips something hard. I took it from my mouth. It was the bean. “Hurrah!” I cried. “I have it! I am King!” Then Pere Louis shouted: “Paul LeMoyne has tho bean; he is King.” Then there was silenee, and all eyes turned upon me and then upon the girls ranged in a row along the sides of the hall. At the head of the room stood Marcelle. On her face was a supercilious smile. . “ I shall be chosen,” it said; “ and it will be the King’s place to be pleased —not mine.” On the other girls’ faces I saw a look of expectation. Many believed they might be chosen Queen as soon as Marcelle. But, drawn apart in the shadow, her eyes cast down, her hands folded humbly together, I saw Maimette. She was sad, and she needed smiles to beautify heF. Her dress was plain; her hands bore marks of toil. No one dreamt that she might be the Queen, nor had she auy thought of it. The least beautiful of all the women there she stood that moment. But that which had come to me, and which I had not understood, came to me again. -I saw her as she sat by my bedside, nursing me in my fever. I saw her in the brightness of the home fireside smiling in my face. I saw her as she knelt in tears before the Virgin’s statue; and I forgot Marcelle. I crossed the long hall. I stood before Mannette. I took her hand and led her from the shadow. “ This is my Queen,” I said. And looking down I saw her face transfigured. God knows how it happened, but a beautiful woman looked up at me with eyes full of pure content. For all the Fete de Rois she was my Queen; and when it was over and we went home through tho still starlight, I asked her if she would be my Queen for all my life, and she made me happy by saying yes; for now I knew that what had come to me as I left her kneeling in prayer was love; and that ever in my eyes and to my heart Mannettc would be beautiful.