LISETTE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXI, Issue 48, 30 March 1894, Page 23

LISETTE.

(By Harriet Aqnks Anderson, in the Catholic World.) I. Lisettk sped with light feet down the path leading from the Mer de Glace. Tbe §now of last winter had long since melted away, and the beauty of fall summer gladdened the hearts of the crowds of Alpine tourists who had come to make the ascent of Mount Blanc. The ■mall stonei clattered softly down before her, and rolled gently to a ■topping place, a short space whence they had started. Tbe hem of her gown swept the flowers and the yonng blades of grass aa she ran, and they bent tenderly and respectfully towards her. Her pale face was upheld to the breeze, and the sunlight that quivered and shook through the green leaves fell on the brown of her hair and kissed it to a glinting gold. The blue of the hearena above emieti down upon her. Lisette's upraised eyes held a sweet, troubled look. She felt vaguely tbe rait beauty of those skies. Her lips trembled in a half smile. There was a bit of tbe poetess in Lisette, which showed itself in tbe quiver of her fine nostrils as she gazed. But Lisette mast look to her steps. Bough stones, half sunk in the earth, stood in the way ; but she sprang frou one to another with swift, sore leaps, each one graceful as the flight of a bird. A party of American tourists going up, some on males, others walktog, stared at her in mild surprise. One of them tnrned around, clapped her bands delightedly, wa'cbed her as she sprang away, and exclaimed : " Look 1 she is like a chamois. Have you ever seen anything so light, so sure-footed, so quick ?" " That ib the wife of Ambroisa Martin," siid one of the guides. " He is one of those who are to go on the expedition the day fjl o*ing to-morrow, mademoiselle." Their voices became soft and distant as they mounted upward« ( and finally were lost altogether. But Lisette heard not one word ; she sprang away, flinging her slight shape forward, or, at some especially •teep point, bracing herself eturdily, with sliding feet. Sometimes one hand held her tain, short skirts away from gnarled root or jagged atone, bat htr speedy steps too<£ on erer a quicker pace. Soft-curled tendrils loosed themselves from the severely smooth hair and brushed against her face, and forehead, and long, brown neck. Htr cheeks * took on a soft flush which deepened as she neared the bottom ; it was

easy to jog along the broadened path, tbe head tilted back a little* the arms swinging loosely at the sides. When she bad arrived at the foot she was quite warm and panting ; but she stopped only to say a few words of greeting to some peasants who were looking through a little telescope nt a number of people coming down Mount Blanc. When she had gained tbe broad path that led to her honse her pace slackened a bit, but her s'eps were still rapid Lisette was hastening to get back to her littte son, Pierre, whom she had left in the morning with an ailment ; so she had placed him under the charge of her young sister Berthe. Mme. Louise Simood, the woman at tbe half-way house on the way to the Mer de Glace, she who had always baen so kind to Lisette, was ill, and Li»ette had taken her place in order to aid Mme. Simond's youngeßt daughter, who was not much more than a child ; bat in the afternoon the second daughter had come, and Liaette was free. Not, however, before she had been able to see Ambroise Martin, her husband, who was taking a party of English ladies up to the Mer de Glace. The day, though fair, was quite close and sultry, and she felt, with her running, very warm and uncomfortable. But now and then * truant breeze would spring up which was delicious, and which fanned her flushed cheeks and somewhat disarranged ker neat hair. She brushed back with an impatient hand the stray little look* which would caress tbe eyes. But when she reached the houst she was rejoiced to find that Pierre bad qaite recovered— her sister Berthe had taken very good charge of him. In fact he was well enough for her to take him with her to meet Ambroise at the Hotel Royal et de Saussure, where the English ladies were stopping. Lisette was accustomed to lead the moles home while Ambroiee arranged his affairs with his employers. Pierre was extremely fond of riding home on one of the mules, and be almost invarialy accompanied his mother. To-day, as usual, Ambroise lifted him up in his strong arms and placed him in the saddle, and Pierre delighted and beaming, rode off ; bis mother leading the mules, while he shouted and waved aloft one sturdy arm. Ambroise stood gazing after the figures of his wife and Pierre, and the two mules, until they had disappeared around the corner. There was a happy look in his eyes, and he forgot for a moment bis negotiations with his English ladies. A question from one of the Englishwomen recalled him from his dreams. " It is my wife," he answered, " and our little boy Pierre ; " and there was a proud, contented ring in his voice as he spoke; But Ambroist had good reason to be contented and proud of all that belonged to him. He was proud of his two brothers who were doing so well in the world, one a soldier in the army, the othsr a distinguished gentleman's valet and quite an educated man, as Ambroise had informed one of the Englishwomen that afternoon. He was proud, very proad of his wife, Lisette, woo was so good and so pretty— proudest of all of his small son Pierre, who wat such a strong little lad. Pierre was now four years old and a veritable child of heaven, and he intended to have the boy educated like hit brother, so that he should become a splendid mao. Ha was proud, too, of Lisette's younger sister Berthe, who lived with them, and was growing up to b« a fine, brave girl ; proud of the two mules, proud of the cow La Qrise. Ambroise had not always lived in Ghamounix. He had moved there fr m a neighbouring town, with bis aged widowed mother, when he was a long, lanky youth of eighteen, and he had later taken up the occupation of guide, and soon gained the reputation of being one of the best in Chamounix. The parents of these two were now dead ; and with thtir share of money which the old people bad left, besides the goodly revenue always coming in from Ambroise's skill as a guide, they were able to provide for all their wants, and more, for these were simple and few. Tdey owned the two mules and La Grise, the stately cow which in summer-time Lisette, or perhaps Berthe, would each morning drive to pasture. This dignified La Gribe, walking with demur* forefeet planted firmly forward, really did not need a single touch of the stick beneath Lisette's arm to guide her, so well she knew her way ; *o that Lisette could knit while waking, or perhaps say htr rosary wtUle tbe bull at La Grise's neck clanged quaint music on the freth, etrly morning air. Now, on this Saturday afternoon, Ambroise had been specially engaged by the English ladies for their little expedition to the Mer de Glace. They had made an earnest solicitation for him, so anxious were they for his services, and bad obtained him, though the guide-chef wat bound to employ each guide in turn. And on Monday he was to go on an expedition to the top of Mont Blanc. Lisette, as she walked horrewards that day, remembered the time of Ambroise 't first assent up this Moat Blanc, and smiled at the recollection. For then she had been dreadfully averse to h.s going, and had clung to him at tbe moment of parting with frightsned tears in htr sweet gray eyes. Bat Ambroise bad laughed at her fears and had consoled her.

" Afraid I—tbon,1 — tbon, a woman born and br ught up in Chamounix thon knowest there has been no accident there for years and years, and than that was in the early spring and it had rained. Nothing ev«r happenp, no one knows that better than myself." Notwithstanding, she had gone that day to the church in the village and had prayed not a little , and she lad prayed ati 1 more ia ihinkt^iving when Ambroise bad returned safe and sound. Since then he had made the ascent many times, and she no longpr experienced these fears ; indeed, she was rejoiced whenever the opportunity offered itself, for it would bring in a neat little sum. On Monday Lisette, with Pierre, siw Ambroise oil as usual. He was to meet at their hotel a party of Americans who were to goon the expedition. Lisette's eyes followed him until he had disappeared down the road. Pierre stood, his little hand in his mother's, his sturdy bare legs gliatening in the sun, and watched his father, »00, until he strode away ont of sight. Pierre's rosebud of a mootb, which showed character and decision even at thst early age, was screwed up now into a fnnny little smile ; his blue eyes gleamed. He adored his father. When he grew up into a man, he, Pierre, intended to become just such a man as hie father. And he would be a soldier, and fight for his country, and do brave deeds, and perhaps become a very great person. And he would always say his prayers night and morning, so tbit his papa wovld be very proud of him. Taesday was a gloomy, drizzling day— a contrast to the bright Monday. On Wednesday, however, it cleared again, and in the afternoon Lisette had occasion to go to the village cf Charoounix. She expected Ambroise home that evening. When she arrived in the town she noticed the unemployed guides standing about in groups and talking very earnestly, and seriously, with here aad there one or two women. To be sure, the unemployed guides usually stood about thus in little groups, but in a manner lazier, more in liffareat, and not not in this solemn, absorbed fashion Passing Liaette heard the words, "Mont BUne— accident," and her heart stood still, not hesitating an instant, she went straight up to the inai standing nearest her, who was talking with a woman. "What is the matter, " she said, "and what is this I hear about the Mount Blanc and an accident ? " Then this fellow did a cowardly thing ; yet he could scarcely be bUrned, for with Lisette comiog suddenly upon him in this way without a word of warning, he lo9t his head and could not tell her the truth. He waa frightened, and he stammered out the first thing that came to him. "There has been aa accident— an accident— on the Mont Blanc — it was an avalaucV, and tha rope broke ; two were killed." "O my God 1 who?" "Tie German gentleman of the party and one guide, Alphonae Michel— the guide, A'phouse Michel. That is all, that is all. The rest are Bafe and are coming down. They have recovered the body of the guide, and are coming down. One, in recovering it, has been a litt c hurt — that is all— not seriously — but they are all perfectly b fe " But he liei ; for it waa Ambroise Mirtin, Lisette's husband, who bad been killed, and not Alp l ion9c M'chel. And fearing more questions, the man moved aw y with the woman with whom he had beeu talking ,who waa his wife, and who haJ been too dumbfounded to saj a word. Now, Lisette believed him, but she determined, nevertheless to make further irquiries at the Hotel Royal, whence the party had started. Then a etran^e thing happened. For the gii(,;>a to whom ■be put the questions unknowingly made the same misake that the man in the village deliberately had m»ide. '■ There has been an accdent to the party who started frotn here to make the ascent of the Mont Blanc," he said. And bo went on to tell her bow on Tuesday they had started from the Grande- Mulets, and were on. their way to the top, when ar avalanche had come and two had b^en swept away before the others could draw a second breath. The o here were s»fe, however. It was only these two— the German gentleman in the party of Americans and one guide— Alphonßa Michel. They had succeeded in recovering the body of the guide almost immediately, and it had been at the Grands-Mulcts over night, and now they were bringing it down. He did not know whether they had yet found the Qeiman gentleman. One of the men had come down immediately with tbe news. It was a terrible thing, indeed ; but it was fortunate that no one e!aa had been killed. Oae of the other guides —he who had recovered the body, had been a little hurt, but not Berionsly. What iB the name ? One Ambroise Martin. Liaette atarted. " Hein— Ambroise Martin— that is my husband " ; and she stepped out of the hotel with her brows puckered into a little worried expression ; she did not like to hear that Ambroise had been hurt. But it was brave of him, was it not, aud like him to have recovered the dead guide's body I And just at that moment, as if to verify the waiter'i statement, Rose Michel, the wife of Alphonse Michel, passed, weeping, on another woman's arm. Lisette having accomplished her errand, then walked homeward, meditating seriously on all that had happened. Was it notgtrange— tno will of the good God ? lie did what was for tha bes\ certainly ; bnt those two bad been married oily a year. It was very sad. She must see if she could comfort or aid this poor Rose Michel in her great trcnble.

Musing on many things, she at last saw comiDg towards her a little procession of men, two of them be.iring between them an ugly thin?— tha litter with the body of tbe guide. " But they have passed Rose Michel's house— it is strange," thought Lisette ; and thei she saw them stop at her own home, which stood alittie way down the roai. "Way, why are they stopping there — oh 1" Lisette stood perfectly still. An iron band, cruel and merciless, grasped her heart, and seemed to equeeze upward in rushing flood all the blood therein, choking her, dyeing her throat and faca crimson, so that her heart was left dry and sere ; and then, did not that crimson flood fall back into it again slowly, drop by drop, each like some ponderous weight? And she turned ghastly white. She felt herself growing deadly cold from top to toe, and for a moment sbe could not move— she was as one paralysed. Thea with all her might she ran to where that ugly procession had atopped at her own door, and there lay Ambroisa, beautiful and smiling, but dead — dead 1 Lisette uttered not a shriek— not a sound. She Bank on her knees. She bent forward staring, her anna hanging down stiffly a little bacc from her body, with strenuously closed fiats. She had tbe look of a hypnotised person : the mouth open in a round O, the eyes wide, distended, glassy. Like the head of a Marie Antoinette after the execution, abe wore an expression of bewildered astonishment and surprißf , rather than of terror or pain. And she remained motionleaa for thirty dreadful seconds, gazing at the inanimate object which lay before ber. Those about her stood as if mesmerised, in complete silence, and stared in * frightened way at the tragic, fascinated form. Those thirty Beconds seemed interminable, and they thought she would never move. But as the knowledge of what had happened grew within her, her gaze changed, becoming less stupefied, more wild, And with the horror growing unbearably, sbe upraised ber arms, which sought tbe air with hands clenched in fierce anguieh. Tbe h»lf-closed lids Bhowed the intense pain in the gray eyes ; deep furrows came between the brows; the head was thrown back; the open mouth took an agonised droop. It was an attitude expressive of deepest despair. She swayed once, and fell forward without a moan prone on the earth with extended arms. Ali this happened in leas than a minute, aDd not an outcry was uttered, nor a single sound. Tbe quiet of the grave reigned ; and they picked her up and carried her into the house, following slowly with their other burden lying frozen— h( rridly stiff and still. It was terrible; sbriekings, and shnekings again and again, they would not so much have minded. They had come prepared for loud outcries and wailings ; they had expected a painful scene ; but nothing they had expected seemed fo dreadful as this oumb and tortured agony and despair. (To bo concluded.')

It seema that the wine which the Kaiser sent to Prince Bismarck was old Moselle. Jn this country the favourite among German wines iB Hock, which is a drier wine, with more delicate qauality than the Moselle, ia making which the flavour of the Moselle grapa ia as far as possible persevered. When Moselle is drunk it is aa often sparkHog us still. But Prince Bismarck's favourite wine is still Moselle During bis speeches in the Beichstag he used to take copious libations of Moselle and seltzer water, being careful that the proportions were nicely adjusted. Count Herbert Bismarck, who was literally his bottle holder, had to consume any glass ia which there was too much seliz r. It may be mentioned that still Moselle was also Mr Parnell's favourite wine, and if the dinner bills of the House of Commons were preserved it would be found that in a large number of oases th« "chief's" rtinner consisted of a simple ste*k and half a bottle of Moselle. Perbapa this similarity of taste was not the only point which Bismarck nnd Mr Parnell had in common.