The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1867-02-28

EvelfuA's visitant--A Ghost Story.
From Beigravia.
IL was at q masked ball at the Palais
Royal that my fatal quarrel with my first
cousin, Andre de Brissac, begun. The
quarrel was about woman. The women
who followed the footsteps Of Philip of Or.
leans were the causes Of many such dis
putes and there was scarcely one fair
head in all that gIittering throng which, to
q man versed in social histories and mys.
teries, might not have seemed bedaopied
with blood. m gEEtGr
shall not record the name OF her Tor
Hove Of whom Andre de Brissac ana l
| crossed one of the bridges, In the dim Au,
rust dawn. on our way to the waste ground
beyond the church Of st. German des
Pres. !.
There we're many beautiful vipers in
those DAYS, and she was one of them. l
can feel the chill breath Of that August
morning blowing in my face as SIT IN my
dismal chamber at my chateau OF fuy
| Yerdun tonight, alone in the stiffness,
writing the strange story ofmy life. lean
nee the white mist rising from the river,
the grim outline of tine chatelet, and the
square towers Of Notre Dame black against
the pale gray sky. Even more wildly can
I recall Andres fair young face as he
stood opposite to me with his two friends
scoundrels both, and alike eager for that
unnatural fray. We were strange group
to be seen in a Summer sunrise, all of us
fresh from the heat and clamor OF the Re
gents saloons-Andre in quaint hunting
dress copied from family portrait of Puy
Verdun, costumed as one Of Laws Mis-
sissippi Indians the other men in like
garish frippery, adorned with broiders and
Jewels that looked wan in the pale light Of
the dawn.
Our quarrel had boon fierce one-a
quarrel which could have but one result,
and that the direst. / had struck him !;
and the welt raised by my open hand was
crimson upon his fair wonanish face as he
stood opposite to me. The eastern sun
shone on the face presently, and dyed tho
cruel mark with deeper red; but the
sting of my own wrongs was fresh, and |
had not yet learnt to despise myself for
that brutal outrage. ~
To Andre de Brissac such an insult was
most terrible. He was the favorite Of for
tune, the favorite of women and was
nothing-a rough soldier, who had done
my country good service, but in the bou-
doir of Parabere mannerless boor.
We fought, and / wounded him NOR
tally. Life had been very sweet for him;
and think that frenzy Of despair took
possession of him when he felt the life
blood ebbing away. He beckoned me to
him as he lay on the ground. went, and
knelt at his side.
"Forgive me, Andre ~ murmured.
| He took no more heed to my words than
if that piteous entreaty had been the idle
ripple Of the river near at hand.
"Listen to me, Hector de Brissac," he
said, 81 am not one who believes that
man has done with the earth because his
eyes glaze and bis jaw stiffens. They will
bury me in the old vault at Puy Verdun;
and you will be master Of the chateau.
All, know how lightly they take things
in these days, and how Dubois will laugh
when he hears that Ca has been killed in
a duel. They will bury me, and sing
masses for my soul; but you and l have
not finished our affair yet, my cousin. |
will be with you when you least look to
see mel, with this ugly scar upon the
face that women have praised and loved
| I will come to you when your life seems
brightest. will come between you and
all that you hold fairest and dearest. My
ghostly hand shall drop poison in your cup
of ioy. My shadowy form shall shut the
sunlight from your life. Men with such
iron will as mine can do what they please,
Hector de Brissac. 1t is my will to haunt
you when / am dead"
All this, in short broken sentences, he
whispered into my ear. / had need to
bend nv ear close to his dying lips; but
the iron will of Andre de Brissac was
strong enough to do battle with Death, and
| believe he said all he wished to say be-
fore his head fell back upon the velvet
cloak they had spread beneath him, never
to be lifted again.
| AS he lay there you would have fancied
him fragile stripping, too fair and frail for
the struggle called life; but there are
those who remember the brief manhood of
Andre de Brissac, and who can bear wit
ness to the terrible force Of that proud ma
ture.
stood looking down on the young face
with that foul mark upon it; and God
knows was sorry for what | had done.
OF those blasphemous threats which he
had whispered in my ear took no heed.
/ was a soldiersand believer. There was
nothing absolutely dreadful to me in the
thought that had killed this man. had
killed many men on the battlefield; and
this one had done me cruel wrong.
NV friends would have me cross the
! frontier to escape the consequences of my
act but I was ready to face those conse-
ouences, and remained in France. | kept
aloof from the court, and received hint
that / had best confine myself to my own
province. Many masses were chanted in
the little chapel Of Puy Verdun for the
soul of my dead cousin, and his coffin
filed q niche in the vault of our ancestors.
His death had made me rich man; and
the thought that it was so, made my newly
acquired wealth very hateful to me. l
lived lonely existence in the old chateau,
where rarely held converse with any but
the servants of the household, all OF whom
had served my cousin, and none OF whom
liked me.
1t was a hard and bitter life. 1t CALLED
me, when | rode through the village, to
| see the peasant children shrink away from
me. have seen old women cross them
selves stealthily as l passed them by.
Strange reports had gone forth about me
and there were those who whispered that
had given my soul to the Evil One as the
price Of my cousins heritage. From my
boyhood I had been dark of visage and
stern of manner and hence, perhaps, no
womsn's love had ever been mine. !
remember my mothers face in all its
changes of expression but l can remem-
Der no look of affection that ever shone on
me. That other woman, beneath whose
feet laid my heart, was pleased to accept
nv homage. but she never loved me and