Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1860-10-04


my guest and tomorrow you shall see the
Duke. If your father should leave the city
tonight, Henri, you must not wonder at it
for he will have gone on some private
business which you and know moth,
ing of. Should be do so, you must 60 alone
to Alexander tomorrow
'As you think best, my lord
sAnd never let him know by word ol
deed that we are friends?
Never, my lord
Thanks my boy Your rise to fame and
rank will be most rapid, am sure of it
Show him into private room, Pietro and
mind he added in whisper, that he does
not leave the house. Is it not your usual
hour for retiting, Henri
1T is?'
well, Pietro will take care of you till ]
return. Good night, my boy!
Good night, my lord = replied Henri
and as the two retired by one door, the
Count disappeared by the other.
Have patience, good reader. One scene
more, and we are done with the Eternal City
1t was the hour of midnight, and all was
silent in the streets of Rome. In the same
room of the hotel de Dieu where We saw
him before, was seated the mountebank-
His face had lost that sort of devil.may- y-care
expression which, at first glance, or to 6
casual observer, seemed habitual to it, anc
was displaced by troubled look, while hi
eyes were cast down in sorrow for Henr
his darling Henri-had disappeared, and
was not to be found. And as he unused
his mind almost unconsciously wandered
slowly backward from the present, far, tal
away into the misty regions of the past; auc
other thoughts and thick. coming fancies O.
boyhood days and boyhood friends, ano
childhood sports and tasks-those bright
spots-oases in Memorys waste, which the
young man forgets in his struggle with the
world, and remembers again only when he
is cld-the bright dreams of youth, wher
life seems but one long summers day, ano
no cloud darkens the horizon of llfe's hap
py moon these-all these unrolled them
selves like panorama to his view; ano
everything pertaining to the actual present
and the ever coming future, was now forgot
ten
Minutes roll on. The clock is striking
half past twelve, and the mountebank is ye,
musiug. But soon footstep is heard ap
preaching, the door is flung open, and Count
Waukoff appears. In one hand he bears a
pistol in the other pointed torch, which
he dashes into the floor with a loud noise
Even this fails to arouse the other; and il
is only when the count speaks that he raises
his head. On seeing his visitor he springs
up with cry, not of alarm, but of surprise
but recovering iu moment, he places the
table between him and the other; and then
pointing to a chair, politely requests of him
to be seated.
What is your pleasure with me ? hesaid
very slowly, placing his hand upon his
heart, and gazing at the count with cold,
stern look. What is your pleasure with me p
TO receive an answer to simple ques
tion, replied the count, raising his blood
shot eyes toward the face of the other, as il
he would read his very soul. Yes, an an.
swer to simple question: he continued
such as one gentleman would ask of anoth
er. You seeit is not much merely word
and then-well then I shall leave you
sBut if should refuse to answer it?
'Oh you will not, said the count, with
a ghastly smile.
'And why?'
Because you dare not.
Yet if should refuse p
Then you de- replied the count stern
ly. Saint Pierre started, but in moment
his feature resumed the same cold express
sion, and he replied slowly,
You would force it from me then p
'Ay, if there is no other way. Come
let US waste no more words Who are you
Your name p and he raised the pistol
Il am a mountebank,' said the other
and my name is Jean Saint Pierre
'Tis false false as hell = cried the ex
cited count. you have another name be-
hind it, and I have come to learn it. An
swer me- quickly, or will tear the secret
FROM your hearth and he again raised the
weapon. WHO are you%
Your enemyv
sAh! 1 knew it felt it!' exclaimed
the Count 'And now, for the last time
who are you"
'Ratherlet me ask who you are p said the
nountebank, stepping out from behind the
table and boldly confronting him. 'Put
down your toy, man and think not that
would lift hand against you. No, it is
with other weapons strike, such as woman
would laugh at and men scorn-words
simple words'
you ask me who am p said the other
i am the Count Waukoff.'
'Ay, the Count Waukoff,' said the noun
tebauk, tauntingly. "A pretty name and
title, is it not? Let us see how it read:
and how it was won. Thomas Gotschoff
Count de Waukoff, the murderer of his
father, the assassin of the Duke of Leip
sic, and the jailer of the Princess Maria !
The pistol dropped from the outstretchec
hand of the Count, and he staggered back
against the wall.
sAh the murderer of your father' criec
the mountebank, moving toward him with
folded arms, his pale face yet paler, anc
his bosom heaving with coutending emo
ton. GLORIOUS title !! Dobly won Lee
us look back little. Twenty years ag(
yonr f.tbar whilo lvinp i'll Of fever unde,