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Show g A HOVSE FOR SALE. B Is 1 if B it 1 How Its Disposal Rejuvenated Mile. Lisbeth. B jjL f There was not in all Aubusson a cleaner, neater B , house than that of Mile. Lisbeth Mauduit. It was n this same gospel of cleanliness, in fact, that B ! forced the good lady to place upon her front door HM'j I I the sign: "This House for Sale." Bent Vith ago, B i1' ' I she had nQ longer the strength to sweep, dut, B 1 s scour, and polish, as she had formerly done, all B J 1 1 the nooks and cornel s of so spacious a dwelling, B 'u 1 j 'and as she could not endure to live in a house in B ?ll ! I which the smallest plank in a floor did not shine B m' i .like a minor, she preferred to disembarrass hor- B y s self of a property she could no longer keep up. B M In truth, the poor old demoiselle had begun to B jjr i i break In a very disquieting fashion, particularly B & j j ; "since the day she had tacked upon her door the B ''J -fatal caid. They said and believed that the sor- E J '' iow caused her by so painful a resolution had B ft J ; broken her definitely, and brought her to the verge H H of the tomb. H 1 jj f Itjwas M. Joseph Planchon, a man of means B 4 1? I and a member of the city council, who bought her B f J j house. The "conditions she imposed appeared to B ;j I i him so advantageous that he accepted them at B t i l once, and without debate. B P 1 She would sell him her house and giounds, she B l j f said, for 30,000 francs, payable in fifteen years, B I in annual payments each of two thousand francs, B ' j I without counting the inteiest; the sale to be final B , j only atter the last payment had been made and H I j i j placedin her hands by himself, or by some other H j j jj I one of the signers of the contract. In addition, B i 1 fj I a "paper ot consent" to the contract, "as drawn," B t j must be made and signed, not only by all the Ji- B Jt fi j rect heirs, but by all their descendants and ances- B M I tors living at that time. On failure of himself, or B L' I j ot any one of the signers of the contract, to make B JL 1 these payments or carry out these provisions, the B M j house would revert at once to Mile. Mauduit. On H f j : 1 the other hand, if she died before the fifteen years B , was up, evea it this happened only a week after BB' j the sale was effected, the house was Planchon's, B jl ) without his disbursing a centime more. Only B ' i she, Mauduit, reserved for her own use, till the B i j day of her death, the two rooms on the first floor jB ! 1 tacing to the south. "Briefly," she said, "a sale B in the form of pn insurance. If these conditions B' suit monseiur " B j j The poor lady was unable to complete her sen- I' tence; a violent fit of coughing strangled and cut short her words. After which she swooned and I remained so long inert that Planchon began to I tremble, fearing that she was really gone, and , n that this great bargain had slipped through his ; J fingers. Presently, however, she opened her eyes B 1 and feebly demanded: "Well, monseiur; what do B jj you say?" B I "I accept! I accept!" he cried, in a glow of en- B j jj: thusiasm in singular contrast to his habitual cus- B ' l! tom 1 1 "Good! Then I will send for my notary and H ji have the agreement drawn." f , In due time the z."t of acquisition was ready and signed by all concerned Planchon pere and' Mother Plancnon; Caroline, their daughter-in-law,' the wife of Plarfchon, Jr., surnamed Joseph; M. ' and Mme. Ancelin, parents of the young Mme. Jo-j seph; and madame, the widow Letellier, sister 1 of Planchon, Sr. I Mile. Lisbeth was, on the day of signing, too weak to leave her room, and the notary was I obliged to transport himself and his papers 10. the .house of the seller. The effort of making! her signature was oven too much for her; she' fainted again and remained unconscious fully a' quarter ot an hour. Mortally disquieted, the purchasers pur-chasers worked and worried over her till they' brought her to consciousness, and she was able to make her signature with a trembling hand. Then, and then only, they breathed freely; the house was theirs and ready to be occupied. The rooms were spacious, and of a very convenient con-venient arrangement, had it not been for the limit formed by the two beautiful chambers facing south reserved by Mile. Lisbeth. The installation was, as usual, laborious. Caroline would have liked very much herself to enjoy the sunshine, but found herself lelegated to the second floor. It would have been so good, too, for old Mme. Ancelin, Joseph's mother-in-law. The only possible pos-sible thing, however, under the conditions, was to settle the Ancelins on the first floor, in readiness to move into the rooms on the south when Mile. Lisbeth had gone to the other world, which, alas' in her condition, she could not long delay doing. M. and Mme. Planchon chose then, not without with-out a sigh, a small, somewhat gloomy room in the lear, tacing north, leaving the other front bed- ( 100m to Mme. Letellier. Joseph, ot course, shared Caroline's quarters on the second floor. Meanwhile, Mile. Lisbeth had continued so weak since the day of the sale that the purchas-ern purchas-ern grew more and more commiserative. They were good hearted souls, and, seeing her so near the tomb, by a sort of tacit accord, they resolved to sweeten' her last moments as much as they could. To this end, they surrounded her with a thousand little cares and attentions. For instance, in-stance, on the day of a pot au feu, Mme. Joseph hi ought her bowls of good strong broth to comfort com-fort her. If the pot au feu changed to chicken, it was Caroline that saved her a tender wing, and saw that she got it. As tor Mme. Ancelin, who was a finished cordon cor-don bleu, she never made a custard or souffiee without distributing her a share; and even Mme. Letellier, notoriously parsimonious, invariably appoitioned her a bowl or a jar of all the sweetmeats, sweet-meats, preserves, and jellies with which she filled all the cupboards. And all these good people rejoiced greatly to see that, thanks to so much care and attention, they really were prolonging the old lady's life. Every, morning they inquired how she felt, and, is she had passed a bad night, a gloom enveloped the entire household. "Poor old lady!" murmured Planchon, pityingly! pitying-ly! "one of these mornings we'll get up to find her gone!" And all the brows grew overcast, and the jB air damp with tears. B All night long, too, the same anxiety continued. B Jf.Mlle. Lisbeth coughed more than usual, the jH whole house Jay awake listening; if slio did not H cough at all, then Joseph, urged by Caroline, must jH jump trom his bed to her door to see if she were B still breathing. ' H "She is better, really better, Joseph," said IK his wife, after one of these anxious nocturnal wk trips; "what a mercy it was for her when she put H her hand on us!" "H Next morning, too, Caroline had another happy B surprise. As she walked in the garden, she saw B Mile. Lisbeth, also, descending fresher, seemingly, B than usual, and much less bent. That evening she B forgot to save her the, wing of he chicken, in- B deed, all the memories failed so at this point that, B little by little, the bouillons, the soufllees, pre- B serves, and compotes separated themselves en- H tirely from the road to the two south chambers. H Their habitant, nevertheless, did not relapse; on H the contrary, she improved, looked better. A year H after the sale she was no longer bent nor feeble, H but spry and losy as a winter pippin. H "Parbleau!" said Caroline, "nor is it astonis'i- H ing, with those rooms to the south! As for me, V in my horrid north rooms, I am simply perishing!" H No one now asked news of her health, but Mile. H Lisbeth seemed to take pleasure in giving it spon- H taneously. "See!" she cried, "how well I walk! B It this only continues, it will be a miracle! That B which wore upon me so was the care of my house. B Now I have neither fatigue nor worry, and you B care tor it marvelously!" B That evening, Caroline, sitting in silence, ap- B parently immersed in thought, turned, suddenly to BF Planchon. "Do you know, father-in-law, that it B is she, that poor soul yonder, who is going to out- B last you? She will live out, suie as the world, B the fifteen years, and you will have paid out thirty B thousand francs for a house that you could not sell B again tor twenty thousand!' Thirty thousand B irancs, did I say? Forty-two thousand I should B said, including the interest!" B The good man grew pale. Had he really over- - B reached himselt thus? He growled, in response, B something that sounded like, "One should never fl trust to appearances." H The dinner finished gloomily, in a discouraged B taciturnity. jB At dawn, next morning, Planchon wakened jB suddenly to the sound of dismal groanings. He B sprang to the floor, crying to his wife: "Quick, HB Angelique! Quiclc! It is her death-rattle!" WM But before she could follow him, he was back B again, wringing his hands and crying aloud: "My sister! My sister! Oh, my poor sister!" B It was Mme. Letellier, and really her deata- M rattle a stroke of some kind. By noon she was dead. Mile. Lisbeth offered her services, and as M they dared not refuse her, it was she that brought M and held the bowl of holy water. But all the fam- M ily regarded her comings and goings with a sort M of dull rancor, of unacknowledged anger. The day M ot the funeral, Planchon said to his wife: "If B only my sister had had a room to the south, I am B fl sure aho would never have failed so rapidly. Death fl ought to have taken a more- UBeless being, who B has no one - left: to love her." B From that day on its was open war. They B hated her, this Mile. Lisbeth, this forgotten of K Death, who had stolen from Mme. Letellier her B last rays of sunlight. The most implacable of all ft was young Mme. Joseph, who expressed herself on the subject of this "thief of years"" with all the m force and ardor of youth, persistently designating I her as "tfie recalcitrant skeleton" and the "sole-B "sole-B leather ghost." Three years after Mme. Letellier's death Mile. Lisbeth was stronger than ever. B, "Behold!" one night said Planchon, who had B been moodily communing with and computing to B hims'elf, "six thousand four hundred francs have 1 already paid to her! Yes, six thousand four hundred hun-dred francs!" "And all for the privilege of freezing in the north," his wife snapped, viciously. And as she started to ascend to her room, furious at having to remount to her glacier, she raised her foot and-angrily kicked open the door before her. Like an echo of this rabid coup de pied, a dull crash sounded from the foot of the stairs. It was Joseph, Jr., who found himself ill for the third time in a month. They ran to lift him, and while the syncope lasted only a short time, he was forced to keep his bed next day from sheer exhaustion. He did not regain his strength, either. Consumption, which had threatened threat-ened him for a long time, declared itself unmis-; unmis-; takably, and he declined from day to day. In seeing her husband perishing thus before her eyes, Caroline had revolts that she made no effort to conceal. The sight of the old maid, now so gay and springy, made her cry out, angrily: "God is not just!- No, God is not just!" When, the morning after Joseph's death, Mile. Lisbeth entered the mortuary chamber, bearing, as" usual, the bowl of holy water, Mme: Planchon rose up convulsively, crying hoarsely: "Leave us,-leave us,-leave us to ourselves, mademoiselle!" And M. Ancolin, throwing the door wide, add ed, almost savagely: "Yes, yes, go! It is not the moment, mademoiselle!" Poor bewildered Mile. Lisbeth obeyed, and shoved herself no more until the hour of the funeral. fu-neral. The poor mother, crushed by the too hard blow, failed hourly. "If only she could have sunlight!" raged Plan-; Plan-; chon, constantly, turning despairing glances to- Iward the two south chambers. His raging, however, did not prevent the passing pass-ing away of his poor wife, precisely on the day for the payment of the fifth annuity. Mile. Lisbeth Lis-beth did not bring the holy water this tim'.but the morning of the interment they found at the grave a crown bearing the phrase, "God unites those who love each other." Two years now passed without noticeable incident. inci-dent. Mile. Lisbeth did not grow older; Planchon, on the contrary, wore out more and more. The Ancellns, too, seemed to languish, and their daughter Caroline to visibly fall away. The hatred of the four survivors of the family had, by this time, a. free rein; for nothing at all a scrap of paper, a raised window Mme. Joseph would cry out in the corridor: "It is, I know it is, that plague of an old maid there!" And Mile. Lisbeth, drawn by the noise, would appear at her door and ask from the threshold, in her thin, old voice: "Did you call me, dear child?" , "No, it was the cholera she called!" Planchon, hearing the solloquy, would hiss between his teeth. The cholera did, not come, but an infectious grippe did, which carried off the same night both M, and Mme. Ancelin. Again at the cemetery the morning after the obsequies, they found a 'y bearing the words, "God recalls his Qlect," ttBSBIMiHailH When Planchon found himself alone at homo with bis daughter-in-law, they uttered a roar in which sorrow had less part than anger. A day or two later, it was necessary to put in order the empty rooms of the departed Ancellns, the father-in-law going along to assist he daughter. Mile. Lisbeth, a short while before this, had gone to the lawn lor a little exercise. They heard her returning, murmuring to herself: "My! My! How warm it is! I am all in a perspiration!" Instantly the thought occurred. to them of-air- , ing the whole house, and they threw open all the -windows. "Take care, dear child," said the old demoiselle, demoi-selle, as she passed by Mme. J6seph, "a draught is a very dangerous thing." Which Mme. Joseph discovered for herself that evening, when seized with acute pleurisy. They saved her for the moment, but without restoring re-storing her to health. She dragged out a miserable miser-able existence for two years more, and then died suddenly, crying out with her last breath: "I know tliat she has already ordered the crown!" The crown laid upon the grave this time bore bul a single word, "Hope." Planchon, seeing it, wns seized witn a convulsive trembling. This Uembling lasted Ave years, five years that he spent" in the gloomy north rooms, envying the sunny soutn chambers, and delivering himself to paroxysms of daily rage that served only to aggravate ag-gravate his ataxia. Each year, as the time for ihe payment of the annuity came around, he had terrible seizures, from which he emerged more and more attenuated, stricken, and nearer to the grave. By the opening of the fourteenth year, he could no longer leave his chair. It was Mile. Lisbeth who now came to his room for the money due her, principal and interest Mile. Lisbeth, trim, tidy, and with a lively eye. This last seizure left Planchon Plan-chon wholly paralyzed from the hips down. Then it was that she came to him every morning, bringing bring-ing him broths, and creams, and little delicacies. He devoured her with his "eyes, his face, his whole air betraying a sullen terror, the inexplicable, mad terror of the frightened child. She talked to him just the same, kindly words of cheer and comfort in her tender old voice, exhorting him to patience and courage. At the end of the year, on the day for t' payment of the fourteenth installment, she enterea the room alei;t, rejuvenated. "It is still mine," said she, "and 1 have come tor my annuity, two thousand and two hundred francs, is it not? This payment today makes it, if I figure aright, thirty-nine thousand nine hundred hun-dred francs, including the interest. One more two thousand two hundred francs, and the house is yours." Planchon regarded her fixedly, but remained motionles. She touched him. Planchon was dead! Mile. Lisbeth allowed none but her own hands to clothe him for the grave; she even went in person to the church for holy water, and it was she who, with a sprig of box-tree from the garden, gar-den, sprinkled the first drops on the pale brow of the lifeless clay. The last crown that she laid upon the tomb bore the simple word, "Reunited." The next day, on the door of her house, whi ' was her own again, there balanced anew to the rhythm of the whispering wind a card announcing: |