Père Antoine's Date-Palm

The owner of that land loses it if he harm the date-tree.

And there it stands in the narrow, dingy street, a beautiful, dreamy stranger, an exquisite foreign lady whose grace is a joy to the eye, the incense of whose breath makes the air enamored. May the hand wither that touches her ungently!

“Because it grew from the heart of little Anglice,” said Miss Blondeau tenderly.