Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1867-02-23
MISCELLANY
From Belgravia.l
EVELINE'S VISITANT. /
A GHOST STORY.


1t was a masked ball at the Palais
Royal that my fatal quarrel with my
~ first cousin Andre de 5Brissae began
The quarrel was about woman. The
women who followed the footsteps Oi
Philip of Orleans were the causes OF
many such disputes; and there was
scarcely one fair head in all that gilt
terinC throng, which to man versed
in social histories and mysteries might
not have seemed bedabbled with blood.
.7r7- shall not record the name OF her for
love of whom Andre de Brissac and
crossed one of the bridges, in the dim
August dawn, on our way to the waste
ground beyond the church of ST. Ger
main des Pres.
There were many beautiful vipers In
those days, and she was one OF them. -
....s can feel the chill breath of that Au-
gust morning blowing In my face as |
sit in my dismal chamber at my chat
eau of Puy VeTdun tonight, alone IN
the stiffness, writing the strange story
of my life. / can see the white mist
rising from the river, the grim outline
- of the chatelet, and the square towers
of Notrs Dame black against the pale
gray sky. Even more wildly can /
recall Andres fair young face, as he
a stood opposite to me with his two
friends-scoundrels both, and alike
eager for that unnatural tray. We were
a strange group to be seen in a sum
mer sunrise, all of rs fresh from the
heat and clamor of the Regents saloons
Andre in quaint buntlng-dress cop
. led from family portrait at Puy Yer
dun, / costumed as one of Laws Miss
issippi Indians; the other men in like
gaTish fTippeTy,- adorned with broider-
ord iorxrcle fhot I0nEaH xran in the
pale light of the dawn. -
Our quarrel had been fierce One-a
quarrel which could have but ono re-
suit, and that the direst. had struck
him: and the welt raised by mY open
hand was crimson upon his fair woman
ish face as he stood opposite to me
The eastern sun shone on the face pre-
---, sentiy, and dyed the cruel mark with a
deeper red; but the sting of my own
wrongs was fresh, and had not yet
learned to despise myself for that bru-
tai outrage. ,. 8.
To Andre de Brissac such an insult
was most terrible. He was the favorite
of fortune, the fayorite. OF women; and
= 1 was nOthing-a rough soldier who
. had done my country good service, but
in the boudoir of Parabere manner
less boor,
~ We fought, and wounded him NOR
tally. Life had been very sweet for
him; and think that a frenzy of despair
took possession of him when he felt the
life-blOod ebbing away He beckoned
49, me to him as he lay on the ground, |
81 went, and knelt at his side.
Forgive me, Andrea murmured.
He took no more heed of 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. II am not one who believes
that man has done with earth because
his eyes glaze and his jaw stiffens. =
They viii bury me in the old vault at
Puy Yerdun; aud you viii be master
of the chateau. All, know how light
" they take things in these days, and
how Dubois will laugh when he hears
that Ca has been killed in duel. They
will bury me, and sing masses for my
soul; but you and have not finish ed
our affair yet, my cousin. 1 will be