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Show f THE BEE. i4 Jrou halo md tuu more. ,"l DIDNT THINK," I half believe that ugly sprite. Hold, wicked "I dont care, In lifes long run less harm has don. nil tho trembles In (ho world Woro traced hack, to their start, WeM find not one In ten begun If JJecauso ho is so rare, And ono can bo so stern with him, Can make tho monster shrink; From want of willing heart, g elf put theres a sly woe-workiu- Who lurks about youth's brink, Hut And sure dismay he brings away Tho elf "I didnt think. what can we say Didnt think. y, To whining Tills most unpleasant imp of strifo lursues us everywhere. Theres seareely one whole day of life Ho does not eause us care; Small woes and great ho brings tho world,' Strong ships ara forced to sink. And trains from Iron tracks aro hurled lie seems so sorry when ho's caught, Ills mien is all contrite, lie so regrets tho woe bos wrought, And wants to make things right. Hut wishes do not heal a wound, Or weld a broken link, Tho heart aches on, tho link is gone All through lae.k-a-da- "I didnt think. Hy stupid "Didnt think. When brain is comrade to tho heart, And heart from soul draws grace, I didnt think will quick depart For lack of resting place. - If from that great unselfish stream, Tho Golden ltule, wo drink, Well keep Gods laws and have no cause To say, "I didnt think. . tts y Ella Wheeler Wilcox. g. DER ENEMY. By JENNY WREN. . 1 F she were a daughter of mine, I would disown herl If I thought a daughter o f mine would s o much as touch a hated Prussians hand, I would swear she had been changed in her cradle. a little while till we teach their arrogant pretension how France resents it; and then such women will lament the treachery they dare call love. So spoke Pierre Duval in hot breath, just before the siege of Paris had begun breath kindled by the news brought him by the fair girl shrinking before his anger the news that one of her schoolmates, the daughter of an old neighbor, had been married, the! day previous, to d young Prussian ofli-- ! cer, bearing active arms against the1 wife; and country of his newly-mad- e he had left her side twenty-fou- r hours, after the completion of the ceremony, to rejoin his regiment. All through the day, old Pierre kepi muttering to himself; at nightfall, he' called his little Marie to him. Women are strange beings, he began, as if to relieve his mind of a load! which was weighing upon it; and perhaps Ive no right to believe you of different stuff from the rest. These are uncertain times were in, too. The Prussians are proving stronger than we thought, and it behooves every man who can carry a musket to stand ready. But, Marie, girl, if your old fatheri marches after the drum aud fife with the rest and no young legs of them all will march more willingly I want you to mike me a solemn promise; nay, more, to kneel beside me and make me a solemn oath. Kneel, my girl kneell m Pale and terrified, the girl knelt. You frighten me, papa, she said. Its naught to frighten you, he answered; but its one thing to march out to the field and another to march back. They may leave me cold and stiff behind them on their return the , gallant sons of France; but Ill rest easier in my grave, though that grave' be a trench filled with the bones of my comrades, if I know my child never Now raise will dishonor her race. swrear and that you your hand, Marie, will never marry a man who cannot boast French blood in his veins Solemnly the girl swore, 1 i r I There is no need, she replied. JJ go every day to the hospital, and every day at this hour, or very little earlier, I must return. A shadow', and then a light, swept over the young mans face, I am stationed so near here that, if you will permit me, every night j will be your escort, he said. I would rather die than accept a kindness from your hands, or those oj auy of your blood! she answered hot: ly you, who are my dear old fathers murderers! And as she spoke the last words she paused before a gate, which the concierge hastily opened for her admis siou, and which instantly swung to be: hind her. But alone in her room, Marie paused. Singularly enough, she could recall every feature of the young officers face a face which seemed to her to realize some dream of manly beauty; the echo of his voice lingered in her ear a voice low, and rich, and musical-mus- ical even when he had sternly addressed the soldiers in his own gutter-a- l tongue. Her heart was beating high with fear aud excitement, and indignant anger, but mingled with it was a strange thrill of joy. s ... The old man smiled triumphantly as he bent and kissed the long, flaxen braid wound about the little head. Im ready now, he said. "Within a wreek the siege of Paris had begun. Within a month Pierre; Duvals daughter was orphaned. A Prussian bullet had stilled forever the heart so loyal to France. For a time Marie was stunned. No one found opportunity to sympathize with her grief, for around and about her every one was nursing some misery of their own. Every house bore some badge of mourning. Every heart carried its own burden. But sorrier days were in store for Paris days when the Prussians marched untroubled through its streets, and spoke their hated language in loud, triumphal accents. On a party of these Marie stumbled one evening as she hastened home. Her pretty face, from which she had thrown back her heavy veil of crepe,' attracted them. Instantly two of them approached her, addressing her in her own tongue. She hastily drew down her veil, but one bolder thau the rest raised his hand to again uplift it. Scarcely had he done so than it wra3 struck down by - a sharp, quick blow from behind. Marie turned, to see the Frenchman who had befriended her; hut, lo !; a young officer, in full Prussian uniform, stood before her, respectfully touching his hat. A few swift words of command to the men sent them, abashed, aivay. Then, with an accent almost as pure as her own, he begged that she w'ould allow him to escort her to her home. Such outrages in time of wrar are difficult always to prevent, he said; but you risk much by appearing unattended in the street. Always your father your brother do you Ah! she interrupted, leave us our fathers and our brothers? No! I have been to the hospital, caring for the poor men who may be spared to their daughters and their sisters. As for me, you have already taken from me my all. And she moved quickly away, as if the conversation were at an end; but the young officer kept pace beside her. she said, but you Pardon are too young and too pretty to pas through Paris unmolested. You hatq me as your foe, but you must let md home, even though guard you to r y-ui- It is because I proved my hate, she murmured to herself. Yet he was kind to me. But for him She would not continue her thought to the end. Resolutely she put it from her. All the next day she was busy again among her wounded. Since her fathers death she had gone into the hospitals. Sitting, with folded hands, in the midst of all the misery about her, with her own wretchedness for mental food, she had felt herself upon the verge of madness, and so had offered her services, which only 'too gladly were accepted, though there had been some little demur about her youth. When evening fell she hastened homeward, but with new dread, new sinking, until, looking behind her, as she turned the corner of a street, she saw, following her, her protector of the night before. Until the gate again closed behind her, he let but that little distance intervene between them. Hot blood mounted to her face, and yet an instinctive sense of care and protection mingled with what she named his presumption. Every night afterward it was the same. Earlier or later, as she might chance to be, he was near her, nor left her till safe within her own home. One night he approached her. There will be fighting he said. I cannot be here to aid you. You must not go out alone. Promise me that you will not. For a moment she was almost tempted into forgetfulness that he was a Prus-- j sian. For a moment she was almost tempted to answer, I promise! then' she recovered herself, and turned hotly and indignantly upon him. Pass my word to you! she said to you, my enemy the enemy whom I hate! And you, my enemy, are the enemy love! he replied. I Why should X lore a womau to whom I have spoken scarce twenty words in my life, and who has answered me with scorn and contempt always? I know not. Some strange fivak of fate, perhaps; hut so to meet it is. I may go out death. doubtless If I should, my you will never know that thus France has avenged herself; but I should like to feel you sometimes gave me one kindly thought, even as my last thought, living or dying, will be of the one woman who gave me a stone for the heart I Offered her. But, for Gods sake . w, w promise me you will not go alone 'to jmorrow on the street! Do not let me have tho added torturo that you are in peril. They had reached the gate ere this. Her hand was on the bell. She opened her lips, meaning to scathingly utter his deserved rebuke, but, lo! instead , the two simple I proraisel ' alone issued from them in a low, and; thrilling whisper. Before she had divined his inten-tiohe had caught in his the little, gloved fiuger.s and raised them to his . The next moment the gates lips. swung to between them, and' Marie, v flying to her own room, had flung herself in a burst of bitter sobbing on the - wo-ds- n, . beil. He was a Prussian, and she him. hatedj I Three days later she paused beside in earnest conversation.! Theres but one way to save him, two su-geo- ns, Its an ugly wound, butj hes sinking from loss of blood. If; we could get some one to submit to transfusion, I think he would recover. Impossible! answered the other. And Marie passed on .to ike room where lay the sufferer. She paused' beside the cot. He was lying, white, and insensible, upon the pillow, his head bound in blood-staine- d bandages; all as she he recog-- ; was, changed but, nized him, aud fell, with a low cry, beside him. To her he was nameless, hut he was the Prussian whom she hated, and the man whom she loved! Ah, in that moment she knew the truth, and then she remembered the surgeons words. They were about separating when she returned to them. You said transfusion would save I am strong and I him, she said. am ready. And rolling back her sleeve, she disclosed her bare, white arm, with its d blue veins. A little while the physicians demurred, but in the end she had her said one. . dimly-outline- way. She did not shudder as the sharp lancet penetrated her vein, and the faintness whioh crept over her the deadly faiutness as the blood poured from her veins into his, was ecstasy; for though to her it might mean death, to him it was life her lne for his. She swooned before the operation was completed, and days had passed before she could rally even to know that her sacrifice had not been in vaindays when Paris had been racked. by a bitterer foe than the hated Prussian, even her own inhabitants. But the terrible days were over,, when Marie was allowed to once more assume her role as nurse. Ernest Haupfman was still in need of all her care; but when she stood once again beside him, he looked at her with wide-opeconscious eye , into which, as he recognized her, there came a look of ineffable happiness. My love! he murmured, aud then he fell asleep, with her hand claspeij tight in his. Through long weeks she nursed him weeks which taught her that all her future must be wretchedness, since her promise to her dead father forbade that she should share it. How dared she tell Ernest of it until he spoke the words which nnsealed her silence? But one evening, as they sat together in the twilight, he almost wholly convalescent now, he spoke them, as, in low, endearing accents, he asked her to be his wife. Amid hitter sobs, she told him all then, and hid her face within her hands. But he gently drew them down, and drew her head upon his heart. Mr own, he said, Jyoijr sacrifice n, i . . - |