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VOL. I.
[For the Banner of the South.]
Reverie.
BY MOtNA.
Only a few more years,
Weary years,
Only a few more tears,
Bitter tears,
And then—and then, like other men,
I cease to wander—cease to weep;
Dim shadows o'er my way shall creep,
And out of the Day and into the Night,
.And into the Dark, and out of the Bright,
I go—and Death shall veil my face,
And the feet of the years shall fast efface
My very name, and every trace
I leave on earth; for the stern years tread,
Tread out the names of the gone and dead;
And then —and then, like other men,
I close my eyes, and go to sleep;
Ah! me! the grave is dark and deep!
Alas! alas !
How soon we pass !
And, oh ! wc go
So far away!
When go me must,
From the light of Life, and the heat of strife,
To the peace of Death, and the cold still dust
We go, we go, we may not stay—
We travel the long, dark, dreary way;
Out of the Day and into the Night.
Into the Darkness, out of the Bright,
And then —and then,like other men—
We close our eyes and go to sleep—
We close our eyes and go to sleep,
Ah 1 me, the grave is lone and deep !
•I saw a flower at mom so fair;
1 passed at eve—it was not there;
I saw a sun-gleam, golden bright,
I saw a cloud that sunbeam shroud;
And I saw Night
Digging the* gravs of Pay,
And Day took off her golden crown,
And sadly, slowly laid it down;
And Day, at morn the Sun’s fair bride,
At twilight bent her brow and died.
And so, alas! like Day, we pass—
At morn we laugh,
At eve we weep,
At morn we wake,
At night we sleep;
We dose our eyes and go to sleep—
Ah ! me, the grave is still and deep.
[FOR THE BANNER OF THE SOOTH.]
THE COUDRET MILL*
Translated from “ Le Correspondant.”
BY 11. D. TANARUS., OF SOUTH CAROLINA.
[continued.]
XI
GO AND SPEAK WIIHMARGARET:
The supper was not marked by any
peculiar interest, although it brought face
to tace Jean Marie, the accuser, Luc and
Margaret, the prisoners, and Xavier, the
J udge.
Each of them observed strict silence
with regard to the important question,
which certainly formed the principal
subject of their thoughts.
Oil leaving the supper table, Jean
Marie felt more than ever convinced that
the old man still obstinately cherished his
first opinion, and be consequently decided
to return with renewed vigor to the
charge, at an early hour the next morning.
Whether it might be owin" to his
eagerness to resume operations, or to the
uncomfortable and somewhat primitive
arrangement of his sleeping apartment,
Jean Marie was certainly up before the
dawn of day.
lie was witness of the fact, however,
that Xavier was earlier in bis movements
than ever he had been ; for, on groin"
out mto the yard, he saw him descending
the outer stair-way of the Mill, which had
no communication with the old man’s
chamber. He observed, also, that the old
miller’s expression was by no means as
calm as on the previous day; indeed, the
change was so marked that he triumph
antly accosted him from the foot of the
stairs :
“Well, Fere Coudret, what news have
you ?”
The old man was so entirely absorbed
in thought, that he did not see Jean Marie
umil thus startled by him.
“News ? Well ! well ! I have none !
WZiQiSI 1 ,HtlSwred Xavier, “none at j
all !”
“None at all ?” repeated Jean Marie,
winking bis eye, and screwing up his lips;
“Allons done ! it is not Jean Marie
Xivard you can cheat after this fashion 1”
“But it is true/’ snid Xavier.
“Oh ! don’t be uneasy, Pere Coudret;
I f am not going to force your secret from
you ! If, by chance, you please to trust
me, well and good. You always know
where to find me. But, remember, idle
curiosity is no failing of mine ! Let the
matter rest here. I beg you will forget
that I ever put the question to you.”
. And, turning on his heel, he left Xavier
in the middle of the yard, looking, like a
culprit, after him.
The simple-hearted old man regretted
that Jean Marie had miscoustrued a
slight and natural hesitancy of manner
into a formal rejection of his confidence.
Although Xavier had betrayed no un
easiness as they sat at the supper table
on the previous night, he could not but
have some anxious thoughts with regard
to the conversation he had just held with
Jean Marie. The more lie reflected,
however, the less admissible seemed the
dark insinuation of the young man, par
ticularly when lie looked into honest Luc’s
well-known face, and listened T: vh delight
to the innocent prattle of his giandchild.
So he determined at once to banish the
whole affair from his mind, without
farther investigation.
It was in this happy frame of mind that
he reached bis room, his conviction so
firmly established, that he felt almost per
sonally aggrieved at Jean Marie’s suspi
cion, and finally succeeded in persuading
himself that it was his duty to convince
him of his error.
The task—thus he argued—would, by
no means, be difficult to him. He was so
much excited that he could scarcely
sleep, and, as day dawned, the tinkling
of the Mill bell told him where he would
find Luc.
The old man then rose, and went in
search of his assistant, who seemed some
what amazed at this early and unusual
apparition of his master.
“You appear surprised by my visit,”
said Xavier, and look as if you would like
to ask what brings me here at this hour ?
Well, I will tell you, lam sure that I
may speak with you without interruption.
So listen, attentively.”
Luc leaned upon a pile of sacks, and
Xavier rested against the Mill rock.
“It is a serious, a very serious, matter,
I must speak of, I have had some
anxious thoughts to-night.”
Here Luc shook his head, as if to
make Xavier understand he could dis
pense with farther preamble.
Xavier seemed to comprehend, but,
nevertheless, did not reach his point with
out much circumlocution.
“You are' an honest man, Luc, and have
a true heart—”
Luc shook his head more vigorously, as
though he would say, “that is a fixed fact
go on, lose no time.”
O 7
“Therefore,” continued the old man,
“I am going to speak frankly to you,
satisfied that you will understand me.”
Luc made an impatient movement,
accompanied by a grimace, and seemed
on the point of breaking through all
established rules of politeness.
But Xavier cooly continued, “I know
that you are often kept up late at night,
and must often rise before day to attend
to my business. Os course, I expect this
of you, as you are in iny service.”
Luc assented, with an energetic move
ment of the head.
“Ah ! well ! now to my business. It
refers, as usual, to Margaret’s marriage.”
Luc shrugged his shoulders, and
stroked bis grizzly beard.
“Do you know what I have been think
ing of, and what I have come to propose
to you ?”
Luc evinced no sign of curiosity.
“J/on Dieu ! my good friend, one
must sometimes have thought,” continued
GA.‘ AUGUST 1, 1868.
Xavier, with a certain air of prudence ;
“and when one has some long cherished
plan, and finds that this plan does not
succeed, no matter what he may say, no
matter what he may do, well! it is very
aggravating ! It racks the brain! Some
times, however, after thinking, one finds
out the cause. As for me, I have found
it in my case ! I think that Margaret’s
refusal to marry may come from hearing
you speak so constantly and slightingly
of marriage !”
If Lue did not exactly laugh out, he
came very near doing so.
“And I said to myself, ‘ perhaps if he
were away from here for a short time—”
Then Luc recovering his gravity, and
riveting his gaze iipnn the old man :
“/ ? Igo away ?” said he, made almost
verbose by the startling proposal.
“Listen to me; try and understand
me !” Xavier hastened to explain. “I do
not say go away forever, but only for—”
“Never !” interrupted Luc, with des
perate calmness, and he moved as though
lie would go off.
But Xavier prevented his doing so.
“Listen ! do be reasonable. Ydu love
this little one, do you not ?’’
Luc looked earnestly at Xavier, who
continued :
“You must, of course, then, desire her
happiness; and you well know that should
I happen to die, as, some day or other, I
must—and I certainly am old enough
now to be thinking of it—then this little
one would be left alooe in the world.”
Xavier suddenly Stopped, somewhat
annoyed on finding that Luc was smiling
Then he resumed :
“I ask you, then, if left alone, what is to
become of her ?—a young girl can badly
take care of herself.”
Lue, here, laughed outright. Xavier
did not expect this, and, suddenly, all of
Jean Marie’s insinuations flashed on his
mind.
‘‘You laugh! you laugh !” cried the
old man, more excited than he cared to
betray ; “there is no cause for this mirth,
above all, when I speak so seriously to
you. Let us see; I will only say this:
Suppose I ask this as a favor of you ?
You understand me ? Answer me at
once.”
Luc paused thoughtfully ; then reso
lutely said :
“It is not my affair, this ! Go speak
with the little one about it.”
And, although he again tried to stop
it, Xavier could not prevent his going
now to the little corner in which his bed
stood, where lie fixed himself, with the air
of a man who wished to enjoy a quiet
sleep.
u Eh ! Bien !to the little one, then ;
let it be so,” replied Xavier, after pausing
for a moment, scarcely knowing what
attitude to assume towards an opponent
who had treated his argument with so
little consideration.
“Promise me, at least, that you will
not toll her anything that I have said to
you '
“I promise,” said Luc, raising his head
slightly, only, however, to fix it more
comfortably on his pillow, and ho closed
his eyes.
# Xavier evidently thought it useless for
him to remain longer.
XII.
“GO SPEAK TO LUC ABOUT IT:'
The result of this interview with Luc
gave Xavier much cause for reflection ;
and we can readily understand that he
felt some hesitancy in speaking of it to
Jean Marie, when he met him, and was
stopped and questioned by him, as we
have already narrated. Did he commu
nicate to him his doubts, it would seem,
as it were, a tacit admission of those in
sinuations he had already combatted, and
to which even now bo would consent with
great reluctance.
It was scarcely daylight, Xavier re
turned to his chamber, threw himself on
his bed, and turned over and over in his
mind Luc’s words and manner while he
questioned him.
Divided between his first trust and
confidence, and the influence of Jean
Marie’s crafty suggestions, he tried in
vain to justify Luc’s strange, if not posi
tively rude and unbecoming reception of
the overtures he had made, which were so
pacific and condescending.
Even if he could excuse this indiffer
ence by a freedom of manner naturally
consequent to a long sojourn in his
house, where be had never been treated
as an inferior, he could not comprehend
the smile, the downright laugh , that Luc
could not conceal when he, Xavier, spoke
of the sad contingency that might befall
him.
“I said, if I were dead, what would be
come of Margaret when left alone ? and he
laughed !—laughed, as though I spoke of
something very pleasant !”
Xavier heard a stir in the next room,
and knew it was Margaret, who was just
rising. She was obliged to pass through
his chamber in going down, and, sitting
at the foot of his bed, he waited for her.
According to her usual custom, Mar
garet came to kiss him, as she passed,
He detained her.
“Let us talk a little, petite, will you ?”
“Yes, grand-papa, most willingly.”
“It is my opinion that, at last, we are
going to understand each other.”
“I would like nothing better, grand
papa.”
“I only wonder that I have never
thought tn ail this before. It refers, a.,
you may readily imagine, to—”
“To my marriage, grand-papa, of
course,” said Margaret, with the peculiar
smile she seemed to keep in reserve for
the important occasions on which her
grand-papa broached this famous subject.
“You laugh, foolish child ; you laugh,
as though you would say, I can only
think of that. Well, what else would you
have me think of ?”
“Well, see, then, grand-papa, I am
serious now.”
And she put on the most demure air.
“This time,” said the old man, slowly
and deliberately, while he closely watched
the effect of his words ; “this time, you
will not reproach me with going too far
from home in my search.”
“Oh !” said Margaret, whose curiosity
seemed aroused in the most sudden and
lively manner.
“No,” replied Xavier, who had observed
Margaret’s sudden movement; “I said to
myself : ‘here is just what often happens
to us; we give ourselves tremendous
trouble to fmd out what, after all, we
could have found, without any trouble, at
home.’ ”
“Ah ! you said that to yourself?”
And Margaret raised her eyes eagerly
to her grandfather’s.
“Yes, I said that to myself. I looked
about me, in this house, under our own
roof, where we are now,” continued
Xavier, who noticed that the young girl
blushed to her very eyes, though she
turned away with pretended indifference;
“I will even say,” uttered he in the most
precise manner, “in the Coudret Mill
itself!”
“Ah! in the Coudret Mill itself,” she
repeated mechanically, then quietly turn
ed her face again to her grandfather,
though she must certainly have felt the
blush had not yet faded from it.
“Yes,” replied Xavier, “I have looked
about me, in the Coudret Mill, and what
have I seen there ?”
Here Xavier paused, as if trying to read
the expression on Margaret’s clear, sweet
face.
“I saw there,” continued the old man,
“an honest youth, who is not rich in
money—no ! But, after all, money does
not always constitute happiness.”
“That is my opinion,” said Margaret,
very earnestly.
“The wealth of the heart is often worth
as much,” replied the grandfather.
“And, many times, much more,” hastily
added the young girl, with some emotion.
“It seems to me we do not understand
each other, remarked Xavier, who, in
proportion as Margaret became more at
ease with him, was conscious of a growing
restraint, so totally unaccustomed was he
to anything like double-dealing with his
child
“Oh, grand-papa, we agree perfectly,”
said Margaret with the utmost unconcern.
“Mon Dieu! yes!” replied the old
man, to whom the part of hypocrite was
becoming insupportable, and who feared,
besides—so foreign to his nature was
anything like deceit—that if he went too
fir, it would be difficult to retreat from
his position.
“Yes, yes, we certainly agree so far,
but we may have some little difficulty oil
some other point.”
“Ah, indeed ?” said Margaret, who
evinced surprise at this sudden change, at
the same there was a .slightly
mocking tone in her voice.
“And when I say Little difficulty, per
haps you may interpret it as being more
than it really is.”
“Ha! ha! ha ! pair ala /” cried Mar
garet, suddenly bursting out into the
merry laugh that had so often made
Xavier despair, and against -which he
had so frequently blunted his best
weapons. See, how your fine project
falls to the ground, lia! ha! ha!’’
“Listen', listen.” said the grandfather,
whom this wicked laugh seemed to
annoy extremely.
But MWgu’et cried out again, laughing
more heartily than ever.
“ This makes ten, grandfather ! this
makes ten ! But this time ’tis your fault,
and not mine. How can you expect me
to marry, with a grandfather who himself
breaks up all his fine plans ? Ha ! ha !
patratra ! This makes ten, this makes
ten grandpapa !” And the merry laugh
pealed out as she clapped her hands.
“ Stop, stop, be reasonable,” said
Xavier somewhat disconcerted.
“But I am not at all unreasonable.
Day before yesterday it was only nine;
you said : only mine ! To day this makes
ten, I say ! this makes ten ! so the fine
project fails through your fault”—
“Eh ? who says the project fails ?
Listen to me before you speak.”
“ Well; go on. 1 listen.”
And she turned to him with that face
of comic gravity and seriousness, which
had so often tantalized him, and de
molished his weightiest arguments.
“ Follow me well,” resumed Xavier,
who had decided to make himself master
of his position by storm, because be felt
that he manoeuvred with difficulty under
Margaret’s flashing and slightly ironical
glance. “ How old are you ?”
“I do not know,” replied Margaret,
with great gravity, “ you should put that
question to the Notary before whom I
signed the paper day before yesterday.”
“Foolish child,” cried Xavier, “ shaking
his head. “ You know you arc twenty
one years old.”
“ And two days,” added Margaret, who
was obliged to say something to preserve
her pretended gravity.
“ Well ! now tell me,’’ continued the
grandfather, in rather a hesitating manner,
“ tell me, lor I fancy you know more
about it than any one else, how old is
Luc ?”
“Luc? How old is Luc?’’ said the
young girl, apparently becoming sudden
ly thoughtful.
“Yes; how old is he V’ repeated the
grandfather, not without some trepida
tion at seeing that wicked laugh just
ready again to burst forth.
“ Oh, well,” replied, or rather stam
mered Margaret, who commanded herself
with great difficulty ; he is thirty, yes,
just thirty years older than I am.”
“ That makes,” Xavier hastened to
reply, with all the calmness he could com
mand, thinking he might thereby influ
ence his giddy companion, “thatmakes
exactly fifty-one years.”
No. 20.
