BY ALPHONSE ALLAIS

Translated by Emil Friend.
Copyright, 1892, by The Current Literature Publishing Company.

I stepped upon the platform at Baisenmoyen-Cert station, where my friend Lenfileur awaited me with his carriage.

While on the train I suddenly recollected something that required immediate attention at Paris. Upon my arrival at Baisenmoyen-Cert, I went to the telegraph office to send back a message.

This station differed from others of its class because of the total lack of writing materials.

After a prolonged exploration, I finally succeeded in capturing a rusty pen, dipping it in some colorless, slimy fluid. With heroic effort I succeeded in daubing down the few words of my telegram. A decidedly unprepossessing woman grudgingly took the despatch, counted it, and named the rate, which I immediately paid.

With the relieved conscience of having fulfilled a duty, I was about to walk out when my attention was attracted by a young lady at one of the tables manipulating a Morse key. With slight hauteur she turned her back toward me.

Was she young? Probably. She certainly was red-haired. Was she pretty? Why not? Her simple black dress advantageously displayed a round, agreeable form; her luxuriant hair was arranged so as to reveal a few ringlets and a splendid white neck. And suddenly a mad, inexplicable desire to plant a kiss upon those golden ringlets seized me. In the expectation that the young lady would turn round, I stopped and asked the elderly woman a few questions anent telegraph affairs. Her replies were not at all friendly.

The other woman, however, did not stir.

Whoever supposes that I did not go to the telegraph office the next morning does not know me.

The pretty, red-haired one was alone this time.

Now she was compelled to show her face, and, Sapristi! I could not complain.

I purchased some telegraph stamps, wrote several messages, asked a number of nonsensical questions, and played the part of a chump with amazing fidelity.

She responded calmly, prudently, in the manner of a clever, self-possessed, and polite little woman.

And I came daily, sometimes twice a day, for I knew when she would be alone.

To give my calls a reasonable appearance I wrote innumerable letters to friends and telegraphed to an army of bare acquaintances a lot of impossible stuff. So that it was rumored in Paris that I had suddenly become deranged.

Every day I say to myself: "To-day, my boy, you must make a declaration." But her cold manner suppressed upon my lips the words: "Mademoiselle, I love you."

I invariably confined myself to stammering:

"Be kind enough to give me a three-sou stamp."

The situation gradually became unbearable.

As the day for my return approached, I resolved to burn my ships behind me and to venture all to win everything.

I walked into the office and wrote the following message:

I tremblingly handed her the telegram.

I expected at least, that her beautiful white complexion would effulge.

But no!

Not a muscle relaxed! In the calmest manner in the world she said: "Fifty-nine centimes, please."

Thoroughly nonplused by this queenly serenity, I fumbled about in my pockets for the coin.

But I could not find a sou. From my pocket-book I took a thousand-franc note and gave it her.

She took the bank-note and scrutinized it carefully.

The examination terminated favorably, for her face was suddenly wreathed in smiles, and she burst into a charming ripple of infectious laughter, displaying her marvelously handsome teeth.

And then the pretty young mademoiselle asked in Parisian cadence, the cadence of the Ninth Arrondissement[16]: "Do you want the change?"