LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5094, 13 September 1894, Page 1

LITERATURE.

THE WOMAN _OF STONE*

[BY EOBEET BAEB.] • (Detroit Free Press.) Lutine was pretty, petite and eighteen. She bad a nice situation at the Pharmacia de Siam, in the Rue St Honore. She had no one dependent upon her, and all the monoy she earned was her own. Her dre*a wa3 of cheap material, perhaps, but it was cut and fitted with that daintineaa. of perfection which Eeeme to bo the natural gift of the Parißienne, so that one never thought of the cheapness, but admired only the effect, which was charming. She ■was bookkeeper and geneifal assistant at the pharmacie and had a little room of her own across the Seine, in the Rue de Lille. She crossed the river twice every day— once in the morning when the sun was shining, and flgain at eight when the radiant lights along the river's bank glittered like jewels in a long necklace. She had her little walk through the gardens of the Tuileriea every morning after she had crossed the Pont Royal, but did not return through the gardens in the evening, for a park in the morning is a different thing to a park at night. On her return she always walked along the Rue de Tuileriea until 'she came to the bridge. Her morning ramble through the gardens was a daily deiight to her, for the Bue de Lille is narrow, and not particularly bright, ao it was pleasant to walk beneath the green tree?, to feel the crisp gravel under her feet, and to see the gleaming white atatueß in the sunlight, with the sparkle on the round fountain pond, by the side of which she sometimes sat. Her favourite statue was one of a woman that stood on a pedestal nearth'e Bue de Rivoli. The arm was thrown over her head, and there was a smile on the .marble face which was inscrutable. Ik fascinated the girl aa ahe looked up to it, and seemed to bo the morning greeting to her busy day's work in the city. If no one was in eight, which was often the case at e : ght o'clock in the morning, th 9 girl kisßed the tips of her fingers, and tossed the ealute airily up to the statue, and the woman of Btone always Bmiled back at her the strange, mystical smile which Beemed to express that it knew much more of this world and its ways than did the little Parißienne who daily gazed up at her. Lurine was happy, as a matter of course, for was not Paris always beautiful P Did not the sun shine brightly ? And waß not the air always clear ? What more, thes, could a young girl wish ? There was one thing whioh waa perhaps lacking, but that at laßt was supplied; and then there was not a happier girl in all Paris than Lurine. She almost cried it aloud to her favourite statue the next morning, for it seemed to her that the smile had broad* ened since she had passed it the morning before, and she felt as if the woman of stone gueesed the secret of the woman of Lurine had noticed him for several days hovering about the pharmacie, and looking in at her now and then; she saw it all, but pretended not to see. He was a handsome young fellow with curly hair, and she notioed how white bis hands were, as if he were not acenstomsd to doing hard manual labour. ' One night he followed her as far as the bridge, but she walked rapidly on,, and he did not overtake her. He never entered the pharmacie, but lingered about as if waiting for a chance to -speak to her. Lurine had no one to confide in but the woman of Btone, and it seemed by her smile that she understood -already, and there was no need to tell her, that the inevitable young man had come. The next night he followed her quite across the bridge, and this time Lurline did not walk so quickly. Girls in her position are not supposed to have formal introductions to their lovers, and are generally dependent upon a haphazard acquaintance, although that Lurine did not know. The young man spoke to hor on the bridge, raising his hat from his black head as he did so. " Good evening," was all he raid to her. She glanced sideways shyly at him, but did not answer, and the young man walked on beside her. " You come line w»y every night," lie said, " I have been watching you. Are you offended ?" " No," she said, almost in a whieper. "Then may 1 walk with you to your home ? " he asked. '« You may jvalk with me as far as the corner of the Rue de Lille," she replied. "Thank you!" said the young fellow, and together they walked the short distance, and there he bade her good-night, after asking permission to meet her at the corner of the Rue St Honore, and walk home -with her the next night. "You must not come to the Bhdp," she said. " I understand," he replied, nodding his head in assent to her wishes. He told her his name waa Jean Duret, and by-and-by she called him Jean, and he called her Lurine. He never haunted the pharmacie now, bat waited for her at the corner.and one Sunday he took her for a little excursion on the river, which ohe' enjoyed exceedingly. Thna time went on, and Lurine was very happy. The statue smiled its enigmatical smile, though, when the sky was overcast, there seemed to her a cab tie warning in the smile. Perhaps it was because they had quarrelled the night before. Jean had seemed to her harsh and unforgiving-. He had asked her if ehe could not bring him come things from the pharmacie, and gave her a list ofcsjjltee chemicals, the names of which h^had written on a paper. "You can easily get them," he had said ; " they are in every pharmacie, and will never be missed." " But," said the girl in horror, " that would be stealing." The young man laughed. "How much do they pay you thero?"be asked. And wbon she told him, he laughed again, and eaid: . "Why, bless you, if I got so littlo as <*h&t I would take something from the 5 fefelveß every day and sell it." ;2cs. $he girl' looked at him in amazement, '" and lie, angry at hor, turned upon hia heol and left; her. She leaned hor arms upon the parapet of the bridge, and looked down into the dark water. The river always fascinated her at night, and she often paused to look at it when crossing the. bridge, shuddering as ehe did co. She oried a littlo aa &bo thought of his abrupt •depirtnrc, and wondered if she had been tooharsh with him. After all, it .was not yer'y much ho bad asked her to do, and they did pay her so littlo p.t tho pbarmacie. And then, perhaps her lovar wa3 poor, and needed the articles he bad asked her to got. Perbap3 he was ill, and had c'aid nothicg. 1 hero was a touch oa her shoulder. She lQoked round. Jean was beside 'her, but the frown had not yob disappeared J'roia his bro'.v. "Give mg.tliab paper," he said, abruptly. She unclosed her hand, abd he -picked 'the paper from it, ard wao turning away* " Stipp !" ahe eaid ; •• I will get you what you wrm'-;. but I will myeetf pit the money in th j till forwhat they cost." He stood tbere, looking at her for a moment, and then said, "Larine/I think you are a little fool. They csve you ever co much rnoro than that.; Howevc-x', I must have tbo things," i .and be gave her back the paper with the 'caution,, '', Be sure you let no one see trmfc, and ba very certain tbat you got the right things." Ha walked with her as far as the aewner of Ru9 de Lille. "You are not

angry with me ?" he asked her before they parted. "I would do anything for you," she whispered, and then he kissed her goodnight. .She got the chemicals when the proprietor wbb out, and tied them up neatly aa was her habit, afterwards concealing them in the little basket in which ehe carried her lunch. The proprietor web a sharp-eyed old lynx, who looked well after his shop and his pretty little assistant. "Who has been getting bo much chlorate of potaßh?" he asked, taking down the jar, and looking sharply at her. The girl trembled. "It is all right," she said. *♦ Here is the money in the till." "Of course," he said, "I did not expect , you to give it away for nothing. Who bought it?" • "An old man," replied the girl, trembling BtiU, but the proprietor did not notice that — he was counting the money, and found it right. ' " I was wondering what he wanted with so much of it. If he comes in again look eharply at him, and be able to describe him to me. It seems suspicious." Why it eeemed eußpiciouß Lurine ( did not know, but she passed an anxious time until she took the basket in her hand and went to meet her lover at the corner of the -Eve des Pyramides. His first question was— •♦ Have you brought me the things ? " " Yes," she answered. "Will you take them here, now ?" "Nob here, not here," he- replied hurriedly, and then asked anxiously, " Did anyone see you take them ? " " No, but the proprietor knows of the large package, for he counted the money." " What money ?" asked Jean. " Why, the money for the things. Ton didn't think I was going to steal them, did you?" The young man laughed, and drew her into a quiet corner of the gardens of the Tuileries. " I will not have time to go with you to the Bae de Lille to-night," he eaid. " But yon will come as usual to-morrow night ?" she asked, anxiously. " Certainly, certainly," he replied, aa he rapidly concealed the packages in his pockets. The next night the girl waited patiently for her lover at the corner where they were in the habit of meeting, but he did not come. She stood under the glaring light of a lamp-post so that he would recognise her at once. . Many people accosted her as she stood there, but ahe answered none, looking straight before her with clear, honest eye?, and they passed on after a moment's hesitation. At last ahe saw a man running rapidly down the street, and aa he passed a brilliantlylighted window, she recognised Jean. He came quickly towards her. " Here I am," ebe cried, running forward. She caught him by the arm, saying, " Oh, Jean, what is tha matter ? " He shook her rudely and shouted at her — ." Let me go, you fool ! " But she clung to him, until he raised his fist and struck her squarely in the face. Lurine staggered against the wall, and Jean ran on. A stalwart man who had spoken to Lurine a few moments before, and, not understand* ing her silence, stood in a doorway near watching her, sprang oat when he saw the assault, and thrußc hia stick between the feet of the flying man, flinging him face forward on the pavement. The next instant he placed his foot between bis shoulders, holdiDg him down as if he were a snake. "You villain!" he cried. "Strike a woman, would you ? " Jean lay there as if stunned, and two genad'armes came pantingly upon the scene. " Thia scoundrel," said the man, " has just assaulted a woman. I saw him." " He has done more than that," eaid one of the officers grimly ; as if, after all, the Btr iking of a woman was but a trivial affair. They secured the young man and dragged him with them. The girl came up to them and said falteringly— ~- "It is all a mistake, it was an accident. He didn't mean to do it." " Oh, he didn't, and pray how do you know P " aeked one of the officers. "You little devil," said Jean to the girl through his clenched teeth, "it's all your fault." The officers hurried him off. " I think," Baid one, " that we should hare arrested the girl ; you heard what shasaid." • "Yes," said the other, "but wo have enough on our hands now, if the crowd finds out who he is." Lurine thought of following them but .she was so stunned by the words that her I lover had said to her, rather than by the blow he had given her, that she turned her steps sadly toward the Pont Eoyal and went to her room. The next morning ehe did not go through the gardens, as usual, to her work, and when she entered the Pharmacie do Siam, the proprietor cried out, " Here she is, the vixen! Who would have thought it of her? You wretch, you stole my drugß to give to that villain !" "I did not," sa!d Lurine, stoutly. "I put the money in the till for tbem." "Hoar her! She confesses!" said the proprietor. Tbe two concealed officers stepped forward and arrested her where ehe stood as the accomplice of J6an Duret, who, the night before, had flung a bomb in the crowded Avenue de l'Opera. Even the prejudiced French judges soon saw that the girl was innocent of all evil intent, and wbb but the victim of the scoundrel who passed by the name of Jean Duret. He was sentenced to life ; she was ret free. He had tried to place the blame on her, like the craven he was, to shield another woman. This was what cut Lurine to the heart. Sbo might have tried to find an excuse for his cvime, but sherealised that ho bad never cared for her, and had but used her aa hia tool to get possession of the chemical a he dared not buy. la the drizzling rain she walked away from her prison, penniless and broken in body and spirit. She passed the little Phaimacio do Siam, not daring to eater. She walked in the rain along the Ktia des Pyramide3, and across the Hue de Rivoli, and into the Tuileriea Gardens. She had forgotten about hor stone wonmn, but, unconsciously, her steps wero directed to her. She looked up at her statue with amazement, at firot not recognising it. It j was nolonger the statue of aamilicg woman. The head was thrown back, the eyes closed. Tbo last mortal agony was on the face. It | was a ghastly monument to death. The girl W!»a so perplexed by the change in her statue that for a moment she forgot tho ruin of her own life. She saw that the smiling face was bnt a magk, held in placs by the curving o? the loffc arm over it. L fe, Bhe realised now, wag made up of tragedy and comedy, and he who sess but the smiling face, seea but the half j of life. Tho girl hurried on to the badge. Bobbin* quietly to herself, and locked down nt the gray river wator. The passers by paid no attention to her. Why, ehs wondered, had she ever thought the river cold and cruol and merciless. It ia tbe only home of the homeleap, the only lover that doea not change. She turned back to the top of the flight of Bteps which lead' down to tho water's brink. She looked towards the TuiJerieo Gardens, but she could not see her statue for the trees which intervened. "J, too, will bp a woman of stone," she said, as she swiftly descended the kiove.