Aunt Jo’s Scrap-Bag Vol. 1

giving him some bad English for his translation, and telling him of it
just as I left Paris.

It was not all fun with my boy, however; he had his troubles, and in
spite of his cheerfulness he knew what heartache was. Walking in the
quaint garden of the Luxembourg one day, he confided to me the little
romance of his life. A very touching little romance as he told it, with
eloquent eyes and voice and frequent pauses for breath. I cannot give
his words, but the simple facts were these:--

He had grown up with a pretty cousin, and at eighteen was desperately in
love with her. She returned his affection, but they could not be happy,
for her father wished her to marry a richer man. In Poland, to marry
without the consent of parents is to incur lasting disgrace; so Leonore
obeyed, and the young pair parted. This had been a heavy sorrow to
Laddie, and he rushed into the war, hoping to end his trouble.

'Do you ever hear from your cousin?' I asked, as he walked beside me,
looking sadly down the green aisles where kings and queens had loved and
parted years ago.

'I only know that she suffers still, for she remembers. Her husband
submits to the Russians, and I despise him as I have no English to