The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1867-02-27
From Belgravia.
LINES VESETANT.
A Ghost Story.

Philip of Orleans were the causes of
many such disputes; and there was
scarcely one fair head in all that gilt
tering throng, which to a man yersed
in social histories and mysteries might
not have seemed bedabbled with
/ blood. m
. I 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. German des Pres.
There were many beautiful vipers
in those days, and she was one of
them. / can feel the chill breath of
that August morning blowing in my
face as / sit in my dismal chamber at
my chateau of Puy Verdun to night,
alone in the Stiffness, writing the
strange story of my life. i | can see
the white mist rising from the river,
the grim outline of the chatelet, and
square towers of Notre Dame, black
against the pale gray sky Even more
wildly can [ recall Andres fair
young face, as he stood opposite to
me with his. two friends-sceundrels
both, and alike eager for that un-
natural fray We. were strange
group to be seen in a summer sunrise,
all of us fresh from the heat aud
clamor of the Regents saloons-.An-
DIRE in a quaint hunting dress copied
from family portrait at Puy Verdun,
[ customed as one of Laws Mississip-
pi Indians, the other men in like
garish frippery, adorned with broider-
les and jewels that looked wan in the
pale light of the dawn.
Our quarrel had been 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 womanish face. as he stood oppo-
site to me. The eastern sun shone
on the face presently, 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 the brutal out
rage. S.fs5.
To Andre de Brissao such an insult
was most terrible. He was the favor
tie of fortune, the favorite of women,
and / was nothing "a rough soldier,
vice. but IL fhe B BoSSSaB8nIft rg 81 gpYfd Ser 5g
re, a mannerless boor. st.o -
We fought, and | wounded him
mortally. 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 me to him as, he lay on
the ground. | went. and knelt at his
side. 80
" Forgive me, Andre, ] murmered.
He took no more heed of my, words
than if that piteous entreaty had been
the Idle ripple of the river near at
hand. r...
Listen to me, Hector de Brissac, J"
he said. /" / am not one who believes
that a man has done with earth be
cause his eyes glaze and his 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 Cahas been
killed in duel. They will bury me,
and sing masses for my soul but you
and [ 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. | 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 a poison in !
your cup Of joy. Ny shadowy form |
shall shut the sunlight from your life.
Men with such iron will as mine can
do what they please, Hector de Bris-
sac. 1t is my will to haunt you when
/ am dead.
All this In short broken sentences
he whispered into my ear. I had
need to bend my ear close to his dy
ing lips; but the iron will of Andre de
Brissac was strong enough to do bat
tie with Death, and / believe he said
all he wished to say before his head
fell back upon the velvet cloak they
had spread beneath him. never to he |
lifted again. aA 49, ss.20 fAGE#VsI
As he lay there you would have
fancied him fragile stripping. too
fair and frail for the struggle called
lie, DuG GilCI0 are tuOS0 WHO sr0mom-
Der the brief manhood of Andre de
Brissac, and who can bear witness to
the terrible forces Of that proud ma
ture.
7 [ stood looking down at the young
face with that foul mark upon it: and
God knows [ was sorry for what | had |
done. ssat4 ID
OF those blasphemous threats that
he had whispered in my ear | took no |
heed. / was soldier and believer.
There was nothing absolutely dread
full to me in the thought that l had
killed this man. | had killed many
men on the battlefield; and this one
had done me cruel wrong.