THE TWO STRANGERS.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XVIII, Issue 1702, 3 July 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE TWO STRANGERS.

A STOEY OF MARSEILLES. 1. —THE YOUNG SOLDIER. It was a rough winter’s night. A slight sou’wester had been blowing all day long; but since the sun had gone down, and it had grown dark, heavy gusts fled boisterously up and down the narrow old str'eets of Marseilles, as though they had lost their way. Many of the principal thoroughfares appeared comparatively deserted, as if the storm had driven most people home. Those who yet remained out of doors seemed to be bent upon reaching their domiciles with all possible speed. There was one solitary exception—a tall, powerfully built man; and upon him a gust of wind had little more effect than upon a solid rock. Enveloped in a thick black cloak, with a military cap drawn down tightly over his forehead, be walked along at a slow, measured step. He never once turned his head, even when the wind oast a stinging splash of rain full in his face. He was so erect, and strode forward in such a steady manner, that one would have supposed the weather absent from'his thoughts. When he reached the quay, he crossed the road and stepped along the gangway, so close to the edge of the basin that by stretching out his hand he could have touched the rigging of large vessels as ha passed. The dancer, oven in broad daylight, when walking so close fo the edge, would have been great; but upon this pitch-dark, windy night, a false step meant certain death in the dock below.

Presently, a small boat, dimly visible by the light from a lantern attached to the bow, came slowly towards a landing-place several yards ahead. When the boat touched the wall of the basin, the man quickened his p;'.'?-', aud on reaching the spot, boked down, and demanded :

“ Who goes there?” ■ “ Prosper Cornillon,’’replied a voice. The voice appeared to come .tom a figure in the boat which resembled a black shadow in the darkness.

tone, not yet.” ° ’ The boatman, having meanwhile made fast his boat, took the latpjtn out of the bow and climbed slowly up tb.i*sep wooden steps. “ Does tiao Cafe Oorullpn, on this"quay, belong to you?” “ It is mine and my sister’s ” Prosper replied. “ That is lucky,” said the stranger,' "in more cheerful voice, “ I wil’ sup at your cafe before we start.”

Prosper Oornillon led the way, holding the lantern so that the light was thrown directly in their path. The Cafd Cornilbn stood in the centre of a row of houses facing the quay. The front?ge was one large window with small panes of glass, like a conservatory. Through the clean, white muslin curtains a light was shining, which illuminated a limited space of the roadway. Stepping forward, Prosper held open the door of the cafe for the stranger to enter. It was a snug, unpretending little cafe; long, narrow, and low-pitehed, like a cabin on board ship, with small wooden tables and chairs arranged against the walls. Borne half-dozen persons, who looked like fishermen, were seated near the window, drinking coffee and cognac, and playing at dominoes. They glanced up for a moment, and returned the stranger’s salute, and then continued their game. At the further etui of the cate was an open hearth, with a fire burning brightly in the centre; near this hearth, engaged in tome culinary operations, stood ft young girl. She turned when the door oneiwcl ; and an expression of surprise, mixed with curiosity, gathered in her face as the stranger advanced and politely raised his cap, “Nina,” said Prosper Cornillnn, looking from the girl towards the customer, “ this gentleman has hired the boat; but he wishes for a little supper before shirting.” The stranger nodded approvingly. “Before sunrise, I must bo on board.” " “ The name of the ship, monsieur ?” asked Prosper, stroking his dark beard and looking, ing with keen eyes into the stranger’s face. “ The Livadia.”

The girl looked up with a distant, dreamy expression in her eyes. “That ship,” said she, as though speaking her thoughts aloud, rather than addressing herself to any ous—- “ that ship is bound for some Greek port.” “For Syria,” said the stranger promptly, while at the same time he removed his cloak and sat down at a table near the hearth.

Prosper Oornillon turned away and joined the fisherman at the other end of the orv'e. Like a true cafetier, ho was soon laughing with the ouatomers, taking a baud at dominoes, and calling to his sister Nina to serve him, as though he were a customer too.

Meanwhile, the stranger sat in silence, waiting for his supper, with his back leaning

against the wall and his legs stretched out towards the fire. He was dressed in the uniform of a French colonel, though only a man of twenty-eight or thirty at the utmost. He had a handsome expressive face, his eyes frequently brightening with some passing thought. But when he turned his glance upon Nina, his look grew serious and sympathetic.

Few could have resisted studying the face of Nina Cornillon, not merely on account of its beauty, but because some trouble, sustained with brave resolution, was portrayed in every feature. That dreaminess in the eyes, already referred to, which seemed to indicate that her thoughts were wandering far beyond the port of Marseilles, was seldom suppressed except when she was spoken to ; and when the conversation ceased, her look appeared to sink away again into the distance, while a smile would break pensively upon her lips, and tears glisten upon her long black lashes. Scarcely a word passed between the stranger and Nina Cornillon until the supper was cleared away, when “monsieur ” lit his cigar and drew his chair closer towards the hearth. But when the girl had served the customary cup of coffee, and was pouring out the petit verro, the gentleman remarked, “ Shall I tell you, mademoiselle, where your thoughts are travelling ? ” The girl looked with a puzzled expression into the stranger’s face. “You would, indeed, be a magician,” said she, “if you could.”

“ Your thoughts,” said he, “ are travelling along the shores of Greece.” Nina started and changed color. For a while she eeemed too troubled to speak. Seating herself in front of the hearth, she looked thoughtfully into the fire. “If mademoiselle will trust me,” the stranger presently remarked m a soft tone, “ even though she might wish a message taken to a lover, I will promise to execute an errand faithfullv.”

The girl glanced up with a touch of indignation ia her face. But suddenly dropping her eyes, she said, with a deep blush on her cheeks : “ I have no lover.”

The stranger locked grave ; and as though conscious of having made a blunder, he hastened to change the subject. “ I will not try any further to read your thoughts; but tell mo,” he added, “ why does your brother keep a boat for hire in the harbor, when he has such an excellent little cafe to attend to? It seems co me that the work is too severe for you all by yourself.” “Ah, monsieur, you would not say that,” exclaimed Nina, “if you only knew how anxious we both are to make money I ” The stranger could not conceal a look of surprise. Sueh sentiments, uttered in such an avaricious tone by a homely girl like Nina, appeared inconsistent, “You moan, perhaps,” he hinted, “ that you do not find it congenial work to keep a cate, and that you will be glad when you can afford to retire from business ? ”

“Oh no, monsieur 1 That is not what I meant. When we have accumulated ten thousand francs, we shall part with the money; and then ” “ Then, mademoiselle ? ” “We shall begin again,” continued Nina, “ with light hearts; for if we ever save that sum, we can purchase our father’s liberty.” “ What,” cried the stranger, greatly moved. “ Is it possible that" “ Hush 1 ” Niaa whispered, with her finger to her lip, as she glanced round at the table where her brother and hhi c.ompf.niom were, seated over their game, “ Whenever Prospar hears this subject mentioned, bo is like a madman, If it interests yon, monsieur, this terrible disaster which has befallen us, draw your chair closer, and I will tell you in a few words how it all happened.” The stranger came nearer to Nina’s pi»o, end leaned forward in a listening attitude. Ilia face assumed an expression of intense concern as sbo proceeded. i In n low voice, frequently choked by tsars, the girl confided to the stranger her sad story. “ Always anxious to assist ris family,” Nina began, “ it one day occurred to father to buy a vessel, for the purpose of trading along the coast of the Adriatic. So he collected together all that he was worth, made a capital bargain, and set sail in his little ship, confident that his venture would be successful. Ho had traded in the Adriatic for others for many years, and was well known as a brave and honest captain in these seas. But not many weeks passed before news reached us that all was lost." Her utterance became thick with sobs. But speedily over■HtayMuymtiam^eoontinued; “Aletter

tiij;, WHSu ie;iai expecting spoil a mishap, he was attacked by pirates. 'Be made a desperate resistance, but was eventually overpowered and taken prisoner. They carried him to Tripoli. The snm wliieh is demanded tor hia ransom is so exorbitant that it will be impossible for him ever to raise it. In his letter, he adds that we must therefore relinquish all hope of ever seeing him again.” The girls eyes were blinded with tears, and for st™* Q moments she could not speak; but urn* 1 . e Sort she succeeded at last. ‘V\ e are striving by ever y honest means in our power to collect the money. It is a hard nght. This is only » ver y modest little cafe, and our profits are very small. Prosper gains a few extra francs cv ery week wit h his boat in the harbor. But m. ny more mUBt pass before we can hope / c <s*inii S b this trying task.” “Howlong,” the stranger askecSfJhag vnnr father been a prisoner 7 ” Ut i " Ton years.” k “ la it possible ? ”

“I was fifteen when he want away. a parting, he kissed me on both cheeks,” continued Nina, smiling thoughtfully. “Now, I am twenty-five.”

“ Poor child ! ” said the stranger, with great tenderness.

“ During these years, we have managed to save nearly three thousand francs. Perhaps, iu ten more years, if we are very fortunate, wo shall be able to complete the sum; and father will be sitting in the old corner, where you arc seated now, as I remember seeing jiiin wnen I was a child.” While she wss still speaking, that dreamy look which the stranger had observed already began to reappear in her dark eyes, and she seemed gradually to lose herself in thought. The stranger, who felt that his presence a; her side was forgotten, rose from his seat with a suppressed sigh, and crossing to wuere Nina’s brother and the fishermen still played at dominoes, he placed his hand upon the boatman’s shoulder. “ Monsieur Prosper,” said he, “ it is almost time we started. But before we go, let us drink a glass together.—-If,” he added, looking round — l< if your friends will join us, so much tbe better.” The fishermen expressed themselves agreeable. So Prosper filled glasses all round. Every one rose and “ clinked ” with the stranger, at the same time wishing him hon voyage. Then Prosper Cornillon assisted “ monsieur ” to envelop himself once more in his cloak; while Nina came timidly forward to take his proffered hand and to bid him adieu. A :d then out they stepped into the wind and rain, followed by tho fioiierman, leaving Nina all alone ’*> the cafe, with her hands clasped, aud a wistful look in her eyes. lI.—THE OLD SAILOR. It was still stormy at Marseilles. For some

weeks, owin.' to tb. ■ ’ ■ u kru.i vi U. d the t. ■ }•• - ir’ !• crowded wiiU v- •<!=, • : ■■ .by ten weather. In t>, iP- y. , iho(;■ rnillon reapr-ii a bj;■ ; m;- b,, 1. ■? in demand from mo;pi:;. till It v-: tiring work; but a • rv-.:, iuni.i’. ; .-c him energy. He was (•■iluig v.-ju t; c i'; •ct object of obtaining hi •huiu’s l.vcilmi'. One evening worn nr. who his unrmftting labor-!, Pro >pcr i.vl thrown himadf down, with hie eibowf, on in-; table, ::: a corner of the csV- near the In nil; and soon his head had stink upon hie arms, and he had fallen asleep. In front of the fire wes sealed his sister Nina, with a weary look too upon her face; but her great dreamy eyes were wide open ; for although late in the evening, it was not yet the hour for closing the Cob; Cornillion. At any moment, a customer might enter; and some customers, if Kina was not very wakeful and attentive, were apt to grow impatient; indeed, she had scarcely less peace and quietness during the twentyfour hours than her brother Prosper. At the moment when it became so late that Nina was on the point of rising to turn out the lamps and lock up for the night, the door waa slowly opened. An old sailor in n rough coat, the collar of which waa turned up about his neck, mysteriously entered the cafe. He touched hia slouching hat with his sunburnt, horny hand in a feeble, hesitating manner; then choosing a table near the hearth, opposite to the one upon which ProapeVs head was resting, he sat down and began to stroke his long white beard thoughtfully without raising his eyes. “ With what, monsieur, can I serve you ?" The old man answered in a low voice, with his head still bent: “ Oafd noir.”

Nina hastened to place a cup of coffee before him; and when she had filled a little glass with cognac, she resumed her seat before the hearth. The girl's chair was pieced with the back towards the door. On one side of her was the table at which the old man sat sipping his coffee; and on the other side was Prosper, still fast asleep. Looking dreamily into the fire, Nina seemed to have forgotten the presence of both these men, so deeply was she absorbed in her thoughts.

“This is the Caff; Cotnillon—is it not?” asked the old man.

Nina started as though the voice had awakened her. “ Yes, monsieur," answered the girl, reoelleoting herself and looking up quickly—“ the Caff Oornillon.” " Kept fay Prosper Cornillion ?” “ Sleeping there,” continued Nina, with a little jerk of her head. “ Ah,” said the old sailor, “ I am the bearer of a message.”

“To him?” “ Yes—to Prosper Cornillon.” “ Shall I rouse him ?”

“No ; I will deliver the message to you.” “It is the same thing,” said the girl, with a pretty shrug of her shoulders. “ I am his sister.” “Nina Cornillon.”

“ Yes : that is my name.” The old man leaned forward, but still without raising his eyes, and said in a hoarse, indistinct voice; “ You may remember, perhaps, a few weeks ago, entertaining a young soldier who passed through this port on his way to Greece. Your brother conveyed him in his boat on board the Livadia, a ship bound for Syria.”

“ I remember the gentleman well,” said Nina, in a f ■.lrrrlnq voice. “ lie gave Prosper a piece of brforo paring, to sustain ns in our effort-, to collect the largo sum of money which is demanded by a Greek pirate as u ravora for our father’s liberty.”

“ft is from this young soldier, Colonel Latent,’ continued the old sador. “ that I bring the message."

Nina JooHoil r-und quickly, with sparkling, eager eyes. “What is the message, monsieur?”

“ Well,” answered the old man, speaking slowly, “hi? words to you —I mean, to Prosper Cormllon wore--words of cnccuragcment. You must never despair I Tsat was how the young colongl expressed it. Bieause, as ha argued, the day miniit not bn fa - distant when your father wound Go set free.” With her eyes bent tbong'iUuiiy upon the fie, Nina said : “ A very land message. How gcod of him to think of me ! ’

11 The message was to Pronpc r Cornillion.” “To think, I should say, of ;ny brother Prosper. But” 11 But,” continued the old man, “ I have not finished yet.” “What more, monsieur?” . The old sailor, lowering hi* tone, and spooking as though he had difiicr«l(v s>> rot b(,‘::.\v-

TDg some agitation, coniir.md ; "It wa>. tho colonel’s hope that neith'rof you would lie despondent—that you w.«W j'.iib.r indulge the fancy that you ha; heard that the ransom demanded by this k p'rme had been paid—that your f.tiivr h.ri it,n;d Ills liberty—that ho had even staiU.d on hia voyafe home, and was nearing tho port of Marsdlles” .

Nina clasped her hands, and cried in a trembling voice; “ That is what 1 dream of, tight and day I ” “Imagine, then, even imagine (hat the ihip hps ratche-i iM-in-ciiie.-— that it has entered the harbour. N--v ! p i n ■to youreol?— though it may make your bean beat painfully —figure to yourself a wcathcr-boaUm sailor ! tutoring your cafe late one cvv.;:).- ;- a man .vith a grey beard and a shaky voice” But at this point the old .uii-n v/;;e interrupted. Looking round, Nina t in-T-a-)f joy, and sprang up with oiu<U'>-tch<-.l aim", tod with the word “ Father ’■ ” Uj o i her lips. It |waa Captain CmniHcn who had ccmc pus Vas a terribly trvinv. ' typri-o. Yet, he •Ws%o cutaift-u t’.aj even Nina !i ’.d r ; c ri-co,--inised him. But tho recognition w<s« t,' mow. So, taking bis daughter in Ids embimw, the old sailor kissed her as he had ;;cd her at their parting ten long y t ata ago. Not many weeks elapsed In-lore Cohind Lafont again made hia 'appearance tit Marseilles. Prosper, who liajtjK-nrd I; be in tho harbor at the moment of heal, accompanied him in triumph to tlic ('re (Jornillon as soon as be landed. -

Nothing could exceed the nr u -tilde which was shown by the captain ’ ris two children towards this young scldr <■, who, on reaching Greece, had tr.wn relive steps to obtain the old sailor’s rH. V:. -v.i p.-.wd before Nina lesrmd un-'er wh: >. dtfiicuhkii Colonel Latent formed ike rrs.duDon of restoring Captain Corui'l u to : j. fi.iuiiy. For he was not a rich n>.,n; he >, aiu d promotion from the vm ■ • a- p jewaru for bravery; and when he had p [A Hie ruti'inm, he had parted with nearly:;'! e’.c money ho possessed in the world. * But 1m lev. d Nira Cornillon. From the moment wh.urn i, that stormy winter’s Light, CoioneJ Lalont entered the calc and saw tbe piri , by the hearth, be had never the dreamy face, nor of the low nu- siuiiai-i voice in which she. f imJ cold to him the sad episode in her life.

These events happened m«u-y t.-rra ago ; and Nina and her husband i A Iphouso Lafont—who became a gf'iic i,! 1., : t lO was forty-should be old propl t low, if they are still living. But one thing certain--on tbo quay at Marseilles there ill stand ; Die little oafd, in appearance unchanged, exc* pt that it is called the Oaf 6 Cornillon no longer. Chamber's Journal.