FRIDAY, MARCH 6, 1908.
THE MORNING ASTORIAN. ASTORIA, OREGON.
NICE LITTLE GIRL
Being a Flirtation and a Love
Story.
AND ALSO A COLLABORATION
An American Olrl in Paris 8lghtie
ing ii Accoitd by Franco Student
' Thinking HcrMll Insulted Beata
Him With Parasol- Marrlta Him.
"As ih walked along the Quai
Saint Michell!' old de Crussol began
the story ''ihe was a pastel in pa1e
blue. lfr gown was ,a well tailored
linen, line, cool linci; her hat wai
wreathed with .forget-me-nots. Per
.ni ii ii an uiu lanmuii imp ws
gome time ago. uut ner suoei, ncr
glove and her eye were black. Her
cheeks, her lip and her Baedeker
were red. So wai her parasol, which
he carried under her arm. She waa
American, and very serious jutt that
minute, for the mad thirst of eight'
aceing wai in her velna. And when
to an American buaineia becomei
pleasure , or pleasure becomei busl
ne, it ia beat to beware of that
American." :. -
"But he did not know this," Mad
ame do Cruol Interpolated.' "He
waa French, with that italicised Gal
licism which ia youth's way over there
of being aggressively patriotic. And
he wa concentrated student, wide of
brown velveteen trousers, eccentric to
the verge of madness in cap, free and
fully flowing as to tie, elaborately
generous as to hair which is youth's
way of emphasising and illustrating
life; making it picturesque and very
much worth while, and filling the
world with its optimistic perfume as
the flowers in the marks near the
bridge make redolent the whole Place
Saint Michel."
"Hevhad seen her," continued de
Crussol. "Oh, truly he had seen her
before she crossed the bridge with
her eyes bent upon the open Braede
ker, a pretty frown on her clear
brows, an altogether insulting pre
occupation about her that challenged
him."
"He sauntered up," Madame went
on, her fat shoulders shaking now,
"arranging carefully to pass her so
that she could not overlook him an
altogether ridiculous figure, his hands
distending his wide trousers and thrust
deep into his pockets; altogether ab
surd, really, were it not for the color
o' youth in his olive skin, a certain
mother-of-pearl luster in his eyes, and
an impudent gay happiness wreathing
his red lips beneath a faintly penciled
mustach."
" 'Une bonne enfant,' he said to her
in his musical tongue, smiling straight
into her eyes which she raised start
led as his shadow fell on the page.
tfJne si bonne enfant eo bleu!' "
(It was Monsieur who took up the
dialogue, acting as he' talked and mak
ing the little scene vivid with eyes and
hands and animated speech.)
"In a moment" Madame threw out
'her hands with a comic gesture of
despair "in a moment she knew it
had come that unspeakable, inexpli
cable, unforgivable impertinence of
the foreigner, against which she had
been w)irned, and at length, at her
pension, But she was ready for it.
She had her own plans for defense.
She intended merely she had always
Intended to effect utter ignorance, not
only of any flirtatious implication, but
of the language, too; and if the attack
had not been so unexpected she might
have carried out these excellent in
lentions of hers. . A remembrance of
her prearranged system did indeed
come to her, but it waa faintly and
forcclessly, as the theoretical Instruc
tions of the awimming teacher come
to one when he feels his heels com
ing up vip up. and his head relent
lessly going down. In spite of all
she could do, she was conscious of
the red that mounted from her throat
above its ' broad,turned-down white
collar to , her very temples the
shameful flag of acknowledgement
that made her ache to beat herself for
being beaten."
"He saw the blushi and laughed
aloud, a gay French note of exhilara
tlon and enjoyment. Oh, but she was
mlgnonne like that!" put in Monsi
cur with enthusiasm. "He was intox
icated with the delightful result of hi
experiment and sought for an in
spiration as to the next step." '
"But she waa American and intol
erant of being conquered. Being her
self, she had but one weapon the
weakest; she had but one course the
hardest. But with an infinitesimal
lift of her chin, she was on her way
again before he bad time to realise
that she had recovered. She walked
swiftly and resolutely, and" '
"And something in the set of her
shoulders." 4 interrupted Monsieur,
ried to bim Take carel' Yet every
thing that she was and he was called
to him 'Dare darel' So he com
promised. When she disappeared in
the direction of the Sainte Chapelle
(the rage these Americans have for
old stained glass and for old stained
royalties!) he set his elbows on the
parapet ami watched the boys fish
ing in the Seine; watched and waited
as patiently aa they waited and
watched the end of their lines.
. Such is the patience of all kinds
of anglers". ' ;S ' ';.
"Half an hour later when she came
down the boulevard," said Madame'
soft voice, "he had passed utterly
from her mind. She was very imag
Inative and very romantic and very
American; consequently the rainbow
ed glory within that jewel-box of i
chapel, and its aroma of royalty at its
apogee, had intoxicated her. She was
bemused, belated, in a dream of color
and kingly splendor." She was walk
ing through the Grand Monarque's
Paris where courtiers in satin and
laces strutted about on their high red
heels, and if her shinning eyes stared
straight at their sartorially degener
ate descendant, she was not aware of
It" '
"He was, though," declared de
Crussol. "And by some esoterlci
psychial process her innocence gaze
changed impcrtinance to audacity
lie walked up behind her, as she pas
sed him. ,
'Hier stir le pont Saint Michel,
J'ai vu marcher la Belle'
he sang almost in her ear."
"She did not turn. She did not
know the old song." explained Mad'
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rEiE BO
ame, "nor could she make application
ot his saucy parody."
"So then, partly because the very
gratuitousness of the insult provoked
it, or merely because it was slender
and round and tempting, he stepped
to her side and put his arm about
her waist. . . . Oh, lightly and
for less than a second a mere sketch
of agesturel I would not say he really
touched her." (This from Monsieur,
with a chuckle that belied his depre
eating shrug.)
"She turned, upon hira then still
with no memory of his personally;
but with a consciousness of indignity
that she had not believed she could
experience and live, she recognized
that same antipathetic breed of impu
k!nce. If she had not been overtired
she took sightseeing very cbnscien
tiously, and was either in an almost
hysterical condition of merriment at
the close of a hard day of it, or easily
excited and irritable as I said, if her
nerves and her temper had not been
so sorely tried sTie would not have
done it. No no, Christophe," Ma
dame de Crussol glanced indignantly
at her collaborator, whose attitude
was all contradiction. "No, she
would not I feel sure she would
never have done it. . . . but-
well, anyway, with a flaming sense
of righteous wrath she seized her
pretty parasol and with all the force
of nervous excitement she she beat
him about the head! Yes, she did
actuallyF"
"He ducked he laughed he gave
utterance to a profusion of amazed,
rattling-r'd exclamations. He retreat
edhis' foot slipped on the wet pave
menthe fell, and a fitre tearing
clown the quai charged full upon him."
This fromMonsieur. .
Then Madame: "There ia only one
thing quicker and more irrational !
than a fiacre driven by a Paris coach
man. And that thing gave a 'great'
enp now in the girl's breast and then
esumcd operations she found her
self back on the sidewalk kneeling,
with his corduroy sleeve still clutched
ictween her fingers, while he he "
And Monsieur; "He lay at her fect,
holding his breath, so close had been
lis escape, so nearly had that mad
ochcr come to murdering hira."
Madame All she had done, all she
tad strength to do was to drag him
partly to the side, so
Monsieur So that only v his arm
was broken. "I have but one left,
mademoiselle," he said, smiling up at
hei really, though, he was faint with
pain as he got to his feet, but, as has
been said, he was very, very French
"but it is still and always at your ser
vice."
Madame she thought he was
about to repeat the insult she did
not know how badly he was hurt
and a murderous fury blinded her.
Monsieur He laughed, assured her
that she misunderstood him though
I'm not sure that she didn't gauge
him rightly, the jackanapes! and of
fered to conduct her home.
Madame "Thank you, I don't re
quire an escort," she said curtly, and
turned to leave him.
Monsieur But the frightened, half
sobered driver, the gardiens de la
paix from the bridge and the foun
tain, the street boys and the women
from the flower-market had collected
about them by this time.
.Madame She found herself the
center of a chattering crowd of for
eigners and ;
Monsieur And her prudish Ameri
can soul was filled with dismay..
Madame And indignation at him
for being the cause of it.
Monsieur He realized it in an
instant oh, but he had learned a lot
about American women in a short
time 1 and humbly be strove to ap
pease her wrath. "It is nothing, you
owe me no apology, it was my own
carelessness," he said quickly to the
cocher. "Go then go, it is nothing;
here is a franc for the fleetest!" he
cried to the boys, and spun a coin
glittering down the bridge toward
the quai. "Mesdames, I see thieves
down in the market," he told the
flower-sellers. To the gardiens he
passed a, couple of francs and in a
swift , whisper, "Demand her name
and address." he urged.,
Madame l he hypocrite! But., she
was not to be bullied, she was
American, you ' see, and in America
Cop
ies of T tie
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Can be had at this office, all
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mailing--i5c a copy, a for 35c
one does not readily yield up one's
identity to impudent strangers. "Your
name and address, Mademoiselle,"
said the big sergent, pulling out an
official-looking b6ok. "That is my
own affair," she answered haughtily.
"Mademoiselle, it is my duty to in
form you'" began the functionary,
stern with the necessity of earning his
pourboire. . . . But she had turn-
i : (Continued on page 6) ..
3 ii
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