Books › The Red Book 1905-03: Vol 4 Iss 5, 1905 › scan 24
Scan 24
The Red Book 1905-03: Vol 4 Iss 5, 1905
32 lines. Read by computer on 14 September 2026. No printed page number was found. See the scan on archive.org.
1THE RED BOOK
2Vol. IV March, 1905 No. 5
4The Lovers of Clochette
5BY ELIZABETH STARR CHATFIELD
7Clochette leaned her dimpled elbows on the window ledge and gazed across the narrow street to the window of her opposite neighbor. Nothing was to be seen there, however, save a puff of steam when the little tailor's goose was too hot for the press-cloth. But, though nothing was to be seen, delicious sounds were to be heard, for the little tailor could whistle like a song thrush, and he was doing so at this minute.
9Clochette smiled, and presently she frowned, for why should the music cease so suddenly in the most entrancing passage?
11"Never," said Clochette with decision, "never will I marry the tailor until I know the meaning of these sudden interruptions."
13But at this moment another and quite a different melody reached her ear. She ran out of the room and across the corridor to the little turret chamber that looked down into the court of great St. Michael's. Beyond that green space towered a lofty stone building, and under the roof, high in the pointed gable, before an open window, stood a tall young man with a violin. He played as if inspired, and the color came to Clochette's cheek and she clasped her hands in delight.
15"Ah," said she, "it is Gaspard! Gaspard who can play—and dance! One would think he was shod with the wings of Mercury, so swift, so light, so entrancing!"
17Speaking to her thoughts only, but with her bright face upturned toward the musician, a sudden cloud seemed to envelop little Clochette. She stamped upon the floor and her brown eyes sparkled.
19"It is exasperating," cried she. "It is impossible. He, too, the first violin, stops always—pourquoi?" For the violinist had ceased to play in the midst of an aria.
21The silence was again broken, by the lively strains of martial music, and again Clochette was restored to sunshine, as she ran merrily down the corridor to a little balcony that looked out upon the public square.
23"I love the soldiers," hummed Clochette.
25She was just in time to receive a salute—which was entirely out of order—from the handsome Captain of the Guards. The soldiers made a fine showing this brilliant September morning, with their scarlet coats and glittering bayonets, their straight shoulders and close-cropped curls. They were a handsome lot, and the best-drilled regiment in France.
27But it was not of gold lace or epaulettes that Clochette was thinking. It was of the little Sergeant Pierre that she thought, with a puzzled face and vexation of spirit. If he were only not so small! If his hair were not the color of carrots and his eyes like a gray and changing sea! Clochette knew that he was brave, that the Emperor himself had placed the cross upon his breast; she knew, too, that he was good and tender to all who loved him, and even cultivated the cabbages in his grandmother's kitchen-garden when off duty, an employment which he most devoutly hated.
29As the little sergeant passed beneath her balcony, he faltered and lost his step. Clochette was in high disdain.
31"Ah, my friend," said she between her
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