United States or Poland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"The boy is a beggar," he said to himself; "he shall not be about Alois." The woman dared not say anything aloud, but when the grave was closed and the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's hands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound where the snow was displaced. Nello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts.
The next morning Alois's arms did not move like unwearying machinery, and, the ten o'clock-dinner being over, we saw him seated at his ease on the adjoining hillside. Should we go and speak to him? We determined that we would.
While this exciting conference was in session, dainty Alois Maise and little Pearl, finding that the deliberations of their elders were interfering too much with their own private conversation, had left the room. After tripping gaily down the village street at Alois's urgent invitation, Pearl consented to visit the Eldon Maise mansion.
"This is Alois's name-day, is it not?" said the old man Daas that night from the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking. The boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory had erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account. "And why not there?" his grandfather pursued. "Thou hast never missed a year before, Nello."
Without him, what should I have been?" And these dreams beautiful, impossible, innocent, free of all selfishness, full of heroical worship were so closely about him as he went that he was happy happy even on this sad anniversary of Alois's saint's day, when he and Patrasche went home by themselves to the little dark hut and the meal of black bread, while in the mill-house all the children of the village sang and laughed, and ate the big round cakes of Dijon and the almond gingerbread of Brabant, and danced in the great barn to the light of the stars and the music of flute and fiddle.
"The boy is a beggar," he said to himself: "he shall not be about Alois." The woman dared not say anything aloud, but when the grave was closed and the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's hands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound where the snow was displaced. Nello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts.
At length, to use an expression of Alois's, "Saint Florian had left off playing at skittles, and Saint Leonhard had driven his hay over the heavenly bridge." The warring elements were still, but the earth seemed smouldering with heat, and we panted and gasped after the lofty mountain-slopes which lay on all sides.
Without him, what should I have been?" And these dreams, beautiful, impossible, innocent, free of all selfishness, full of heroical worship, were so closely about him as he went that he was happy happy even on this sad anniversary of Alois's saint's day, when he and Patrasche went home by themselves to the little dark hut and the meal of black bread, whilst in the mill-house all the children of the village sang and laughed, and ate the big round cakes of Dijon and the almond gingerbread of Brabant, and danced in the great barn to the light of the stars and the music of flute and fiddle.
"This is Alois's name-day, is it not?" said the old man Daas that night, from the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking. The boy gave a gesture of assent; he wished that the old man's memory had erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account. "And why not there?" his grandfather pursued. "Thou hast never missed a year before, Nello."
Word Of The Day