The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1844-01-22


ton of Pierre Pitos the result of one of those sin
gular movements orhe human mind, which it ia i'm
possible to comprehend, but which all at time
see
Meantime the accused showed himself so simple, |
logical, in his perseverance, in demanding SEN
tence--it with such audacious boldness |
that he proclaimed his crime-repeating necessarily
that "he did repent orit''-that he did not even
regret 1.-THE irmness with which he demonstrated |
it, appeared much like bravado, that it was imPos
sble to exhibit clemency, and he was accordingly
condemned to death.
When this sentence was read to Pierre, he did not
even Crown. lie was earnestly besought TO ask for
pardon. He refused it positively.
AS every one imagined that there must be some
mystery at the bottom Of all this, it resolved TO
postpone the execution of Pierre Pitois for some
time. The prisoner was re-conveyed to the military
prison, and informed that, special favor to him,
he would be allowed seventy-two hours TO present
his petition for pardon. Pierre shrugged up his shou
ders, but made no
About the middle the night preceding the day fixed
on for the execution, the door of Perre's cell turned
softly on its hinges; sub officer the young guard
advanced to the side Of the bed which the prison.
err lay and after having contemplated him time,
|
his eyes. and gazed round ;-"ah," said he, ''the
hour has come-very we'll
''No, Pierre" answered the sub officer; cit is not
yet the hour, but it will soon strike.'
"And what do you want with mo''
"Pierre, You do not know me, while know you
well. l saw you at Austerlitz- and you bore your
self like a brave From that day, Pierre, have
felt for you lively sincere esteem Happening TO
arrive at Strasburg yesterday, learned both your
crime and your sentence. As the ailor is relative,
obtained Of him permission to come in to and
! speak to you, Pierre. The about to die often
regrets that he has with him friend, TO whom
he may open his heart and impose upon him some
sacred duty be discharged. Pierre, if you consent,
| I will be your friend"
''Thank you, comrade,'' said Pierre, gruifly.
''Havo YOU nothing to say to me?''
I ''Nothing''
"Whnt not one farewell to your sweetheart-your
poor sister?''
''Sweetheart and sister! I never had either
''For your father? 20
hare no father Two months ago he died in my
| arms -
''For your mother?''
''For my mother!'' snid Pierre, and his voice
derwent deep and sudden change. "For my
| Their! All, eomrude, do not utter that name. I
| sure you mover hear i'll never whisper it in my
heart-wthout being moved to tears; and at this
moment, 1t seems to me, i'll should speak of hor-''
''Well, what?'
''l should acecp and TO weep is unmanly;o weep
| continued he with increased earnestness, ''when |
have only few hours to live, would be cowardly''
"You are too severe, conrade; have, thank
God, as much courage any man, and yet l
| should not be ashamed to weep in speaking of my
mother.''
s'You,' said Pierre, sezing earnestly the hand of
the under officer, fyou man, you a soldier,
and you would not blush to weep?''
''In thinking of my mother ? No, certainly not
she is so good, she loves much, and love her
so much too"
''she loves your You love her Oh, then-thcn
will tell you every thing My soul is full, it must
have vent; and however strange may appear to you
the sentiments which animate me, you will not laugh
at them-I am sure you will not. Listen, then, for
what 1 am about to say to youis most true. Man is
happy at the moment of death, if there is heart
to which he may open his own. You will hear me
kindly, and you will not laugh atme' WiHyou'"
al hear you, Pierre; the dying man can excite no
feeling but commiseration and sympathy"
s'You must know then,'' said Pierre ''that from
the hour of my birth, there never was but per-
son whom really loved, and that was my mother;
but her, her did love with all my mind and my
strength--never man loved human being as loved
her. When was child, comprehended
each others looks. To my heart she was myself;
and to her heart was herself l have had neither
lover nor mistress, friend; my mother was
every thing to me. At length, when Twas drafted for
| the army when was told that | must quit her,
in despair, and declared that, though violence
were used, would not be separated from my mo-
ther alive Yet with one word, she who was holy
and courageous woman, changed all my resolu-
| tons.
Pierre" said she to me, 'you must go-I wish it
to be 500
81 knelt before her, and said, mother, will CO."
| ''Perre,'' added she, 'you are a.good son, and
thank God for it, but the duties of son are not all
those which man has to discharge; every citizen
owes himself to the country. She calls you-obey!
Won ,re IN he , soldier. from this moment your life