The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907, March 02, 1878, Image 3
THE LOST CHILD;
—OR,—
The Wolf-Woman.
opinion, that she was a ghost I never heard
tell of one of them bat was all clothed in
white.”
"This girl, as you call her, was not?”
Still, they eonld discern all within reasonable
distance, and had little fear of being surprised
or their stock stampeded.
And so the hoars dragged heavily along nntil
No; she had er dress made of skin, with the J near midnight, when the Indian, who was seat-
Do yon know the
A THRILLING STORY OF THE ROCKY
mountains.
BY wTh. B.
CHAPTER III.
"Stranger,” said the new-comer, when he
had finished his sapper and bfUtd his PV£
addressing Curtise-“stranger, ought I to be so
bold as ter ax whar yer are bound?
"I am going to Oregon,
trail?”
"Every inch on it’
"What do you think of our chances of reach-
1D “Mighty slim. Yer started too late. Yer
orter been up and doin’ with the first grass.
"Still, if we push forward, we may yet get
through?” , ... ,
"WaJ, yes. I’ve known suoh things done
more than once.” , ..
"Then we shall be certain to accomplish it—
that is, if the lateness of the season is all we
hB “Ef < yerknew me as well as Buffalo-Hoof,
so as ter put confidence in my erpimon, I d ad
vise yer to turn around; go back to the settle
ment, and Wait until next spring.
"That I cannot do; but why should you ad
vise me to such a course ?
"Wal, the fact is, the red men are out erpon
what they call a grand hunt, but I know that
it means war." . .. „
“But you passed safely through them.
“And might lose my sca'p ernother time.
Thar is considerable in knowing the way.”
‘Perhaps I could tempt you to return and
guide us. You Bay you know the road ?”
"Yes, but I'm bound for the settlements ter
spend the winter. It’s more’n three years sinoe
I>e bin erway from the mountings. ”
By the aid of the Indian, however, the white
trapper was induced to change his mind.
"It didn’n matter much, he said, “where
he put his time, and the fact was, he hadn’t
an overplus of money ter be foolin’ erway
among the folks in the city.”
So it was settled that he should join their lit
tle party, and very glad were all to have a strong
armed and sharp-witted man added to the num
ber, especially as he had hinted that the Indi
ans were dangerous.
"Thar's one thing, squire,” he continued, af
ter the terms of payment had been arranged,
that draws me back more’n all yer gold. ”
"That we, of the same blood as yourself
may have a ehance for safety, I presume.”
"Wal, I wasn’t er thinkin’ of that jest then,
and yet I’d do all I could to save the women and
leetle ones, bless their bright eyes! No, I wasn’t
er thinkin’ of them, but something that troubled
me as I was coming here.”
“I should suppose that you had seen every
thing possible, both in the prairie and the
woods.”
" So I thought I had, but it ’pears that I was
mistaken. You know, Buffaler-Hooftj whar the
Missouri runs through the gate in the mountings
—the Rocky Mountings, I mean ?”
The Indians nodded in acquiescence, and Fish
er went on:
"Wal, I’d camped thereone night—it was jest
as pleasant a night as this ar—the moon and the
stars were both shining bright, and yer could see
a long distance. I didn’t build no fire, because
I wanted a sound nap without any danger of los
ing my scalp. ”
“Then the Indians were around you? asked
Curtiss, anxious, if possible, to learntheir where
abouts.
“Not one within more’n fifty miles, as Iarter-
wards found out, though I didn’t know it then.
But as I was er saying, I camped near the river
—that is, I roled myself up in my blanket, dug
er hole at the foot of a big tree, fixed some stones
in front of it, so that the bars or wolves
shouldn't git at me before I knew it, and lay
down to sleep.”
" But the Indians, if they same ?”
"They wouldn’t think of lookn’ in sieh er
hole for a man,” was the laughing response; "and
yet, they’re mighty cute, too, findin’ hiding-
places ef they’re on er trail. Howsomever, I’d
let the river wash between me and my trail and
made er mark in the shore, jest as if er canoe had
been shoved off, so that they’d naterally think
there were two on us travellin’ in company, and
had gone in the boat, so I didn’t mind much
erbout them. No, it were the varmints alone
that I war er thinkin’ of.”
" And are they dangerous ?” asked Mrs. Cur
tiss, her true motherly heart thinking of her
children.
" Not onless they are driven to it by huunger.
I’ve bin er travlin’ these 'ere parts nigh on ter
twenty years and never was in danger onless I
attacked them first. But I could tell yer of a
bar-fight ’’
"My brother was speaking of the trail made
by the Great Maniton,’’interrupted the Indian to,
whom stories of adventures with wild beasts pos
sessed no charms.
" Yes the gate through the mounting. I’ll tell-
yer of the scrimmage the bar and I had Borne
other time, marm. Wal, I’d been ersleep some
time—how long I don't know, and it don’t matter
nuther—when I war awakened by the sound of
somebody singing.”
"Somebody singing in such a wild, lonely
spot ?” asked Curtiss, to whom the locality was
perfectly familiar from description.
“Yes, sir, singing and it were er gal, too.”
" A girl! you must have been dreaming.”
"I war jest as wide erwake as I am this minnit.
I thought I war dreaming, too, until I pinched
myself so as ter almost make the blood run. No,
squire, I wam’t ersleep, and yet ef anybody had
told me what I saw with my own eyes, I wouldn’t
have believed a word of it.”
" And yet you expect us to credit it ?”
"I told yer once before that if yeu knew me as
well as Buffaler-Hooff did yer’d believe,” replied
the trapper, without even a shadow of anger
crossing his face at the anticipated unbelief of
hisstpry.
" The catcher of beaver,” interposed the Indi
an "has never let his tongue turn from the
straight trail of truth. Let him speak on.”
“ Wal, I heard the singing, and saw that it war
er gal, fer I had been cunning enuff ter leave a
hole, so as to peep out or shoot, in case of danger.
She bad a han'snm face, but was dressed the
queerest, fer the moon shone full npon her as
she sat on a rock er fishing in the river.”
“ It might have been a mermaid that had got
astray,” said Curtiss, with a smile. "Did she
have watery eyes and green hair, and was she
combing it with a golden eomb ?”
" Her eyes would have made yours water if yer
had seen ’em, for they were as black as night,
and snapped like stars, and her hair ,was sorter
bluish, like a black pigeon’s neck when it turns
it about in the sun.’’
"It could not have been a mermaid, then.”
“I don’t know what yer mean by er mermaid;
but this was either a human being, or—”
“Jee-bi.” broke in the Indian, startled out of
his usual stoical indifference.
"Er ghost! Er speerit! I kinder thought the
same, Buffaler-Hooff, and I tell yer I kept jest ah
quiet as er mouse.” i
"You said she was dressed queerly,” remark-
I ed Curtis. -
“Fes, and that made me disbelieve my fust
fur all on, so that it kivered her all up except
her head and hands.”
"It was probably some wandering Indian
girl.”
"Wal, she did have a squaw face, though I
never saw one half so pooty.”
"Most likely a maniac.”
"She didn’t look wild er bit—only sad like.”
"And she sat there fishing and singing ?”
"Yes, and I watched her fora long time. But
somehow I made er little noise, and she started
up and fled as ef she had been er deer.” *
"Did my brother follow her?” asked the In
dian.
"Arter a while I did. At the first I war too
skeered to do so.”
“Did my brother find any trail ?”
“Not er single print of er moocasin. I had
watched whar she stepped, too, but there wasn’t
no more trace than ef er butterfly had trod
there.”
"And was that the last you saw of her?” asked
Curtiss, who, without the superstition of the
others, yet felt strangely interested, believing ir
to be some poor Indian girl, who had eithe,
been lost in the mountains, or, becoming crazyt
had fled thither.
"Not er bit of it In er few minutes after
wards I saw her leapin’ from rock to rock erbove
my head, and hollowed ter her ter stop, but she
didn’t mind me er bit.”
"The spirits of the mountains understand not
the language of the sons of earth!” almost whis
pered the Indian.
"Yes, she must have bin er spirrit, fer I fired
at her, and she didn’t even start”
" Fired at her! Suppose it had been a girl in
reality ?” questioned Curtiss.
" Then she would have had er bullet through
her,” replied the trapper, coolly, "fer it bain’t
often that I miss such er Bhot”
" And you would have killed her ? ”
“More’n likely.”
“But you did not toach her?”
" No more than ef I had fired at smoke—the
lead went straight through her.”
" And she still stood there ? ”
"Jest as ef nothin’ had happened.”
" Pshaw ! yon missed your aim, or had for
gotten to put a bullet in j our rifle—the latter,
moBt likely.”
“ Did I ? When yer have fought grizzlys (ter
say nothing erbout redskins) as long as I have,
you’ll alters know that yer weapon is properly
loaded.”
“ Still, such things have happened, and will
again. We are all liable to mistakes.”
“ Yer right, squire, yer right I kinder
thought sich might have bin the case; and I’d
heern say, too, that yer couldn’t hit er ghost
with anything but a silver bullet; so, ter make
the thing sure, I cut er dollar up into slugs,
rammed them down, rested my rifle ercross er
stun for fear my hand mought tremble, and
blazed erway.”
" And you killed her ? Poor girl !”
"I can’t say erbout that; but I know that when
the smoke cleared erway there war nothing of
her ter be seen.”
" Where was she standing when you shot ?”
" On the very brink of the precipice, and I
crawled up tharand looked down.”
" And saw—”
“ Nothing.”
" But you could not rest upon such an uncer
tainty. Did you not go below and look ?”
" Not until the mornin’, I kin tell yer. Then
by hard scratchin’ I got down the foot of the
mounting, and found—”
" A dead eirl! Great Heaven ! how you must
have felt!”
" I should have felt a good deal better ef J had.
No, I didn’t find any dead gal, but I found a
dead wolf, and—”
"It was one of the followers of the Wakkah
Shecha!” interrupted the Indian, with startling
earnestness.
“One of the imps of the devil! You are right.
Buffala-Hooff, and ef I hadn’t happened to have
had some silver erbout me ter cut up inter slugs,
I shouldn’t have been here ter tell yer about it.”
" It would have tempted you further into the
rockB and strangled you. The legends of the In
dians are full of such tales.”
" One would think we lived among the Hartz
Mountains,” whispered Curtiss, aside to his
wife, and then went on to question the trap
per.
That he had been deceived, he did not for a
moment doubt; that the wolf had died from
other causes than his improvised bullets, he was
equally oertain; but he knew the folly of attempt
ing to convince either the trapper or the Indian,
and as their road lay in the same direction, he
determined to satisfy himself with regard to the
mystery.
"Yon are certain,” he asked of Fisher, "that
it was not a female, and that it did not vanish
behind some rock or bush ?”
“ It mought have been a female wolf for all I
know,” was the gruff answer, and motioning to
the Indian to follow him, the trapper arose and
walked slowly away.
Left to themselves, the family discussed the
strange story they had just heard, viewing it in
the light of probability, and little dreaming how
strange a hold it had taken on the superstitious
feelings of their guides. Had they known but
a tenth part of the "witch tales” that were cur
rent among the red men, they would not have
been so much astonished, for their legends are
full of them. In their superior education, how
ever, they make light of the fact that the trap
per had found a wolf at the foot of the mountain,
and enjoyed a quiet little laugh at the expense
of tiie two who were busy discussing some oharm
against future adventures of the kind. What
the result of their conference was, they kept en
tirely to fhemselves, for on their return the In
dian took upon himself the part of watoher,
while the trapper, rolled up in his blankets,
stretched himself npon the ground, with his feet
to the still glowing embers, and was soon fast
asleep.
With nothing to disturb them, they remained
till the sun warned them that it was time to be
moving. A hasty breakfast and the teams were
harnessed, and they started onee more on their
weary way, and jogged slowly along, day after
day until they neared the rock-guarded pass
where the trapper had seen the supposed wolf-
woman.
It was already growing dark when they formed
their little corral ef wagons, and without dar
ing to light a fire, (for they ha«l seen signB of In
dians,) prepared for a night of unusual watch-
fulnes-.
"We mustn't let the redkins know we are
here,” growled the trapper, ‘fer ef we kin only
git through the pass without being seen, there’ll
be no sich good place fer an ambush en the hull
trail.”
Is it very dangerous then,” asked Curtiss.
Dangerous! Jest ask Buffaler-Huff! Why,
squire, er dozen Injuns could stand thar and
stun us to death without our gittin’ even so
much as er shot at ’em. I’d rather fight the
hull tribe on the open perarer than a handful
thar.”
*Can we not avoid it altogether.”
‘Yes, ifyer've got wings to fly over moun
tings,” and Fisher turned to the Indian with a
low laugh.
Very soon all was silence save the breathing
of the few sleepers, and the restlessness of the
stock. The moon was but dimly observable
through the mist that rose up from the river aud
formed a haze around the top of the mountain.
ed next to Curtiss, laid his hand heavily upon
his arm, and asked in a low whisper:
"Does my brother see nothing moving ?"
"No. Where?”
“Let him bend his eye to the ground and look
there,” and he pointed to where the opening
slope ran down to the water’s edge.
‘Yes, I see it now. It looks like a great dog, or
s bear or a wolf. What do you think it is, Buff-
alo-Hoof?”
"It is the wolf-woman. She is looking for the
graves of the dead, to tear them up and fatten
upon the rotting corpses.”
"Then you think Fisher did not kill her?”
“She can never die by the hand of a man
Front one body she will flee to another. See !
she is digging,”
"I’d give a thousand dollars if it was daylight,
so that I might follow her.”
“My brother should not,” said the Indian,
and he laid a hand on the arm of his white friend,
that it would have been difficult for him to free
himself from.
"I am not fool enough te run my neck need
lessly into danger, though I do not believe the
story. Look!”
All doubt as to its being a woman passed in
an instant from the mind of the white man. The
moon broke through a rift in the cloudy mist,
and he could distinctly sea the figure, and he
long, waving black hair that floated around the
shoulders.
“By the heavings !” exclaimed Fisher, "thar
she am er gin, the she devil,” and his voice was
drowned in the report of his rifle.
The smoke lifted, and whatever the form might
have been, it was seen crawling slowls, as if
wounded, up the side of the mountain.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
THE GHOST
—OF THE—
MALM A1 SON.
AN EPISODE OF FRENCH HISTORY
Translated from the French for the Suhnt South
BV CHAKL.EH OAILMAB1).
[Most of the characters in this story are net fictitious,
bnt real personages who took conspicuous parte in
some of the most important events which occurred during
the rebellion of the Westof France—called Cftcuanneric.]
CHAPTER CXXIII.
Seeing that her brother kept silent, Gabrielle
continued:
‘The Emperor has pardoned those whose
wives, daughters or sisters have asked for his
clemency. I was Saint Victor’s betrothed; Na
poleon will have pity on me. And, besides, I
will see the Empress; she is so kind, and has
always been so affectionate to me, that she will
join me in asking the Emperor. He will grant
the pardon.’
‘Will he grant it to-day ?' asked Liardot
•To-day! What do you mean ?’
‘The condemned men have not three more
days to live !’
‘What! It will be to-morrow ! Oh, God ! is
it possible ?’
'To-morrow is Sunday, and the law forbids
any execution on Sunday, but Monday ”
‘Then I shall see the Emperor to-day — this
morning—I must see him. Francois, you will
accompany me; he will receive you. You will
tell him that I am there, kneeling down, in
tears; he will permit you to bring me to him.’
•I have stiready uses during the
night,’ roughly answered the officer, ‘and I have
no pretext to enter his private office now.’
‘You shall find one—or I will go to General
Duroc—he will listen to me.’
‘The Emperor has been working until day
light. He is sleeping now.’
‘Oh, God! inspire me !’ exclaimed Gabrielle.
This time the Major did not answer, and Li
ardot himself kept silent, sadly looking at the
girl, who had her baok turned to the palace.
All at once he perceived somebody opening a
window on the first floor, near the Pavilion de
Flore.
‘God has heard you, Mademoiselle,’ said he,
‘here is the Emperor.’
It was true. The form at the window was that of
Napoleon, who appeared, bare-headed. He was no
more the General Bonaparte, returning from
Italy, poor, of a yellow complexion, and already
bending under the weight of his young vic
tories; but he was not yet the stern Emperor,
fatigued with a long exercise of supreme power,
like a Roman Csesar. In 1804, the First Consul
could be detected yet under the potentate, and
his face framed by the gilt window, seemed like
an ancient medallion appended on the royal
palace.
He had come to the window to breathe the
morning, and he inspired with delight the sweet
fragrance coming from the garden. He was not
looking at the little group near him, and per
ceived Gabrielle only when she fell on her knees
in front of the window.
At the exclamation of Liardot, that the Em
peror was there, she had left her brother’s arm
and run straight to the man who held in his
hand the life of him whom she loved.
‘ Pardon, sire!’ she cried, extending her sup
plicating hands towards the Emperor.
Brought back to the reality of earthly life, by
this exclamation, the supreme ruler of so many
men frowned and asked shortly:
* Who are you ?’
Then remembering the charming face he had
seen so often near the Empress, and recognizing
the Major, who was coming to his sister’s assist
ance, he added softly:
‘ I know now who you are. Don’t kneel down,
mademoiselle.’
‘Sire, my sister is but a child—forgive her,’
stammered Francois Robert, helping Gabrielle
to rise.
‘Let her explain herself,’ said Napoleon,
smiling. ‘ I am sure it is not for herself that
she asks my pardon. Speak, mademoiselle—
what do you wish ?’
‘Sire, the pardon of a condemned man,’ said
Gabrielle, almost fainting.
‘ What makes you take an interest in him ?’
Gabrielle did not expect such a question. She
became paler, but she bad an inspiration.
‘Sire,’ she said, *1 love him, and here is the
ring of our betrothal.’ She held the ring given
her by Liardot, and presented it to tne Empe
ror.
‘ He is your betrothed, you say ?’ asked Na
poleon; ‘I thought you were going to marry an
officer of my body guards. Is it not so, Major ?’
‘Sire,’ answered Francois Robert, ‘this was
almost arranged, and your Majesty had even ap
proved it; but some difficulties arose, and—’
‘Oh! yes,’ said the Emperor, laughing this
time; ‘ the difficulties came from a certain ghost
in the park. So it is you, ikademoiselle,’ teas-
ingly, ‘ who disdain a brave Captain whom I
have just made Major and officer of the Legion
d’ honneur—and you disdain, besides, the dower
I intended to give you for my wedding present ?’
‘Sire!* exclaimed Gabrielle, ‘I am ready to
accept your liberality and marry Captain Perlier
—and 1 swear never to see again the man to
whom I have given my faith—if you will only
accerd him his pardon.’
‘You love him very much,then?’
‘ I do love him, sire, but I shall keep my word,
nevertheless. I belong to a family in which
honor is held sacred.’
* Well, well!—what do you think of this, Rob
ert ?’ asked Napoleon, very kindly.
'I say that my sister never lies.’
* Good ! As for the rest, it is Perlier’s busi
ness, ’ answered Napoleon.oheerfully. ‘And now,
mademoiselle, tell me what is the matter with
that man; what has he done ?’
‘ Sire, he is condemned to death !’
‘What for?’
‘He has conspired against your Majesty.’
* He is a cho>jan, then ?’
‘Yes, sire.’
4 His name ?’
* Coster de Saint Victor,’ answered Gabrielle,
tremblingly
‘ The most dangerous of all; the first Lieuten
ant of Cadoudal! If I should pardon him I
I would be unjust, for he is more guilty than
the others. Do not speak to me of that man;
the law must be executed.’
‘Sire!’
‘ Do you not know that this man has tried to
murder me?’ severely asked Napoleon.
‘No, sire, he never did. It is not so. He is
incapable of suoh an infamy. Ask my brother.’
This candid answer cooled down the Empe
ror’s anger.
‘Women are all the same,’ said he, shrugging
his shoulders. ‘For the man they love, they
would turn over the whole planetary system. I
could pardon those royalists—and would do it—
if they had only attempted to take my life, but
they have carried on a civil war against their
country; they deserve no pity.’
* Sire, I love him!’
‘ You love him ! Do you believe that the
mothers and wives, mourning now on account
of this war, do not love their sons and hns-
bands ?’
‘ Ah ! sire, if those mothers and wives could
hear my supplications, they would say to you:
‘ pardon!”
‘What a country is this,’ said the Emperor,
half-smiling, ‘ in which little girls find such ar
guments in favor of their lovers. You want the
pardon of that Saint Victor, you say ? Very
well. Let him ask it himself and I will pardon
him.’ So saying he left the window.
Gabrielle remained motionless, not knowing
if she should hope or not.
‘Come,’ said her brother, taking her by the
arm. And he went with her where Liardot was
waiting for them.
‘The Emperor will pardon Saint Victor,’ said
he to him, ‘ but he must ask his pardon him
self.’
Liardot shook his head, sadly.
‘ Come to-night to my quarters. I will give
you the necessary papers to enter the dungeon.
You shall bring me the signature of Saint Victor
asking for pardon, and I will show it to the Em
peror, who will immediately sign a commuta
tion of the eentenoe. It is now your business
to hasten and have these things done in time.’
•Tell him,' said Gabrielle, ‘that I, myself,
have obtained his pardon, and that I pray him
to sign the paper asked of him.’
Liardot bowed and left without a word.
CHAPTER CXXIV.
At the appointed hour, the old chornn came to
Major Robert’s quarters, and the latter said to
him:
* The Emperor is perfectly willing to pardon
Saint Victor, if Saint Victor consents to ask his
pardon in writing; he is besides, disposed to
pardon every one of the other chouans — Cadou
dal included—on the same condition. You see
that the master I serve is as good as your princes
who send their partizans to certain death and do
not share in their dangers. Tell your friend that
this is an absolute condition. If you do not suc
ceed in getting the requisite paper, the law will
be followed. When you are in possession of it,
‘ Very few words. Her brother was there.’
‘ The Major ?’
* Yes; and he did not forbid her receiving the
ring. When Mile. Robert heard of your being
arrested, she fell ill, and they made her believe
you were dead.’
‘ She loves me yet ?’ exclaimed Saint Victor.
* She has never ceased to love you.’
‘ Poor Gabrielle! I ought not to let her know
my fata I was so fully resigned to die—and
now-why should I not own it—now I long
to live.’
‘ You shall not die !’ quickly said Liardot. ‘ I
bring you your pardon.’
‘ My pardon ! Bonaparte pardons me?’
‘ Yes,’ laconically said Liardot.
‘ Gabrielle asked for it. did she not ?’
•Yes.’
‘ Has any one helped her?’
‘ Her brother was there, but I assure you that
you owe gratitude only to her ?’
‘ And to Bonaparte,’ interrupted the young
choimn.
‘ Of course, but ’
* Then, he has pardoned Georges and all our
comrades?’
* It is in their power to be pardoned. ’
‘ How’s that ?’
‘They have only to accept one condition.’
‘ Ah ! there is one condition. I am not sur
prised. It is natural; one cannot expect that
a successful soldier understands clemency as a
King does. Let me bear the condition.’
* It is not a nard one. Only put your name
to the bottom of this,’ said Liardot, presenting
a paper. • You may sign it I have written it
myself, and I assure you there is not a single
humiliating word in it’
‘ I do not doubt it. But, tell me, do yon
bring such a paper for each one of our friends?’
‘No; I have no mission for them, bnt I know
that they will receive such an offer.’
‘ Cadoudal, also ?’
‘Cadoudal, especially!’
‘And do you believe, dear friend, that Cadou
dal will nubmit to a condition imposed by the
usurper?'
Liardot cast down his eyes silently.
‘Answer frankly, my old Fleur-de-Rose, what
do you think Georges will do?’
‘ Georges is not in the same situation you are.’
‘ Then you think it would be a cowardice in
him to accept ?’
‘A weakness, may-be.’
‘ On the scaffold, cowardice or weakness is all
the same.’
‘ But you are not Cadoudal. He is the com
mander, and his duty is to set an example. ’
* Very well, and I, as his Lieutenant, must
follow his example.’
‘ So, you refuse ?’
‘I do!’
1 And Gabrielle! She sent me here herself to
ask you to sacrifice your pride.’
‘ My honor, you mean to say!’
* Your honor is not at stake. You have a right
to die; but you have no right to kill by sorrow
a woman who loves you.’
Saint-Victor sighed, and tears ran down his
cheeks.
* Fleur-de-Rose,’ said he, ‘you ought to spare
me such torture. But there are things a friend
cannot refuse to do. I ought to have known it
when I gave you my ring. But now one more
question. You have seen Gabrielle and spoken
to her brother; you must know what will be
come of her. Can you assure me that she will
remain tree ?’
Liardot cast down his head.
‘ I understand it all now. To save me she
has consented to the marriage they wanted her
to contract. I guess right, don’t I ?’
* Yes,’ muttered Liardot.
‘ Thank you, friend. If Bonaparte looks at
bring it here with my name upon the envelope, the bottom of this paper for my name he shall
and I will imaicdiu'.ciy chow it to the Emperor; not find it. I refuse to sign it.’
but in any case don’t try to see me any more.
Cur present interview shall be the last. ’
‘I shall obey,’ answered Liardot, bowing.
* One more word,’ added Robert. ‘You have
been a witness to what it had pleased my sister
to do this morning. I want it to be kept secret.’
‘It was perfectly useles to ask me such a thing, ’
coldly said Liardot.
‘ May be. However, you may tell it to the
condemned man, but you must tell him all. If
he obtains his pardon—and he can if he wishes
—he will be a prisoner for life in Fort de Joux.
You must not forget to add that Mademoiselle
Gabrielle Robert will soon marry Major Per
lier.”
‘ I shall not forget anything,’ answered Liar
dot.
The old chouan, after leaving Major Robert, ran
to the Conoiergerie, but the prisoners were then
at Bicetre and as it was too late to see them there,
he was obliged to wait until the next day. He
spent the night in his room, burning all his
papers, and fixing up everything for his leaving
Paris. He had deoided to leave France, no mat
ter what should be the result of his visit to Saint
Victor.
His friends were going to die. The cause of
the King was lost He did not even think of
avenging Louise, and if he did, it is not likely
that he could have done it. Maneheu, after his
crime, had probably left France, where he would
be in danger.
The next day was Sunday, and when Liardot
came to the prison, the condemned were at
church, hearing mass. It was near twelve o’clock
before he could see his friend.
‘ Is that you, my dear comrade !’ said Saint
Victor, holding out his arms. ‘ It is kind of you,
dear friend,to come.’
‘You ought not doubt that I would come,’ an
swered Liardot.
‘ I was confident that yeu would try, but I
doubted that you could succeed.’
‘ You foget that I am one of them,’ answered
Liardot, bitterly. ‘ I should have come sooner,
had it not been for something that has hap
pened. ’
‘Oh ! you came in time—but only just in time
—’ said Saint Viotor laughing, ‘ for it is to-mor
row.’
‘ flow do you know ? Who has told you ?’
‘ Our dear jailor; he has had paid us that kind
attention.
‘ Those Jacobins are in a great hurry to offer
to their new master the blood of those who
served the King,’
‘ My dear fellow,’ cheerfully said Saint Viator.
‘ I thank them tor that. We are badly treated
in this place, and I want to get out of it, no mat
ter how. I like open air and will delight in it,
even on .the scaffold. Besides, let me tell you,
this morning I had a private conversation with a
good old Priest. I believe that I am now ready
to render my accounts above, and as I have al
ways been an inveterate sinner, you know, I
want to take advantage of this rare opportunity.
But let us talk of yourself, my dear comrade.
What do you intend to do ?’
Leave Franoe forever.’
You’re right! But,’ lowering 4 his voice, ‘did
you succeed in saving Louise ?’
Louise is d ead !’
Dead!’
‘ Murdered by her husband !’
* Miserable Maneheu : I always thought he
was a traitor and a coward. Were I free,! would
take a particular pleasure in blowing out his
brains. But do it yourself if you can. By the
way, have you fulfilled the mission I gave you ?’
* Mademoiselle Robert received your ring yes
terday.’
‘ Who from ?’
‘ From myself.’
‘ So you have seen her ?’ asked Saint Victor,
trying to be calm.
‘ I have.’
‘ What did she say to you ?’
The door of the cell opened, and the director
of the prison entered.
‘My dear sir,’said Saint-Victor, ‘our conver
sation is over, and I thank you for your kind
ness in letting us talk so long; but, yon know,
when one leaves for such a long journey, he has
always so many things to say to his friends.’
He smiled with such a charming grace that
the director looked at him in admiration.
‘ Now, old friend, ’ again said Saint Victor, ‘I
believe we shall not see each other any more in
this world, unless you come to-morrow to see
the ceremony. Should you come, I would be
glad to look upon a friend's face before dy
ing!’
‘I shall be there,’ said Liardot, pressing him
in his arms.
Saint-Victor took advantage of this embrace to
whisper into his ear:
‘If you see her again, tell her my last
thought was for her!’
CHAPTER CXXVI.
After a sleepless night, Liardot, followed by
Jacobin, left his room never to come back any
more. The news vendors were crying that the
execution of the choaans would take place at ten
o’clock. The crowd was compact around the
prison when ten o’clock struck in the old tower.
At half-past ten, a rumor was spread that the
Emperor had pardoned the condemned, but at
the same time the sonorous voice of Cadoudal
oould be heard, saying:
‘Is not that man satisfied with entting off my
head, that he wants to dishonor me by asking
me to sign such a paper ?’
Another voice, that of Saint-Victor, answered
him:
You have refused to sign, General!’
As I should have refused tc surrender in
Bretagne,’ firmly said the chief of the chouans.
The heavy prison gate opened and the doom
ed men came out. They were twelve in all.
‘Now,’ cried Georges, ‘let ns show the Paris
ians how Christians, Royalists, Bretons, know
howto die!’ And without waiting any longer:
‘Forward,’ said he, as if commanding the storm
ing of a breast-work.
So saying he climbed into the first cart with
his cousin Pierre Cadoudal, Pioot, his faithful
servant, and Saint-Victor, his lieutenant. Tam
erlan, Malabry and the other chouans occupied
the other carts.
Liardot followed the sad prooession to the
place de Greve, where the scaffold had been
erected.
The chouans fell in line as if at a dress parade,
and were led one after another under the fatal
knife.
Ten timeB that knife fell and rose again tinted
with the blood of brave men.
Cadoudal and his lieutenant alone remained.
Saint-Victor wanted to embrace his general once
more, and Cadoudal received this final adieu,
almost with impatience, as an act of childish
weakness. Then, when the handsome head of
his Lieutenant had rolled into the sinister bas
ket under the seaffold, the commanding form of
Cadoudal appeared, and with the same clear
voice that had rung on the battlefield he cried:
‘Comrades, I am going to join you. F»ee It
Boi!’
The knife fell for the last time, and Georges
Cadoudal was beheaded.
Liardot, sickened by the horrible scene, fal
lowed the Seine, walking without minding
where he was going. Sometimes he stopped,
looking at the water with a strong desire to jump
into the river and follow his friends, but he was
then near the Pavilion de Flore, and he remem
bered he had to tell Gabrielle, that Saint-Victor's
last thought had heen for her. He took in his
hand a letter he had written to that purpose and
gave it to the janitor of the palace.
As he was passing the gate, he met With Cail-
lotte, whs told him:
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