Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1870-02-15


lar spot where | was to meet NJ.
Paul's messenger. | knew it was to
be on the quay, but | could not help
being little startled when a tall
man wrapped in cloak came and
laid his hand on my horses bride.
'Vous collar said a voice that. in
spite of the cloak being drawn over
his mouth, recognised as M. Paul's.
l saluted him Immediately; and then
for the first time, he seemed to be
aware that | was not his brother. He
drew back, muttering something be-
tween his teeth.
Monsieur Louis couldn't come |
said; he was not well enough to bear
the fatigue of such a ride; but he has
sent me to hear the news of NJ. Paul
I'll! exclaimed NJ. Paul with a
low, cruel laugh; ill to death, |
suppose? Perhaps it would be better
for him that it was So
1 hope not, monsieur replied, as
if knew nothing about his hatred
for his brother, and trying to talk in
the same respectful but familiar way l
was accustomed to do with NJ. Paul.
4 hope there's no bad news for him
no bad news for the family.
Mons. Paul walked on beside my
horse fora few minutes without speak
ing. At length he turned to me, and
said in his own quiet voice, but anxi-
ously, its not likely, Antoine, that
| should be away from my post in
Paris at this time, unless fears for my
family induced me. | have some
power with the party now paramount,
but not sufficient to insure protection
to declared enemy of the Republic
M. Louis an enemy of the Repub
lie! | exclaimed; why, there could
Mt be a stancher supporter of it
He's as red Republican as yourself,
Paul 7
Bah! my good friend. it's easy
enough to lie in this world. but not so
easy to make yourself believed, NJ.
Paul replied, taking out small pock-
ct book and beginning to scribble
something in it as he walked. Look
here, Antoine, | daren't do more than
this-I daren't say more; but the
sooner my brother Louis gets out of
France the better for him, Give him
this paper, and tell him what I've
told you. These are fearful times
for US all E.; natural ties bind no more
than wispS of straw. Some fend is
calling for blood, blood and as long
as one can save ones own self one
dare not deny that OF ones kindred.
Get back to the chateau, Antoine, as
fast as you can, and do as | tell you
it's the best and only advice l can
give. Good night
He stood there under the moon
light, saying that in his quiet voice,
and looking so sad and anxious, that |
could not but think he meant what he
said, and that NJ. LOuiss suspicious
nature had led him to imagine evil.
touched my cap to him.
If you would jusG say word how
to manage to get master away, mon
sieur.-I don't believe he will be per.
suaded.'
'Idnt pis pour Lui,' he replied, NOV
ing of. 4 have done what can good
night And before I could say an
other word he was gone.
| was not much of a scholar, and
turn about that little oit of paper NJ.
Paul had given me as | would, | could
not make out a single word. But |
was fortunate enough to meet little
Mademoiselle Pauline in the pine
wood, as about noon next day | rode
into the chateau grounds. No one
knew where had been except NJ.
Louis; but | suppose mademoiselle
Pauline guessed there was something
unusual stirring to occasion my long
absence, and she was on the watch.
A sweeter, kinder-hearted little
lady than Mademoiselle Pauline
never knew; she was the only good
thing about the gloomy old place, for
the other two young ladies were very
much like their brothers in disposit.
ion; Mademoiselle Mary resembling
VI. Louis, and Mademoiselle Clotllde
Mons. Paul. Well, when she caught
sight of me, she came running up, and
catching hold Of the horses name, she
exclaimed,
Where have you been, Antoine
Tell me at once; | know there is
something wrong going on by Louis s
face; tell me out truly and boldly
Antoine And she tried to look
commanding and stern like her bro
ther, but couldn't, because she was
terribly frightened.
'Mademoiselle," | said sorrowfully
if you want to know your brothers
secrets, you had better ask him. Will
you be kind enough, to read this paper
to me? it's a note l have just found
on the road
She took it and glanced at it, anC
then looking up at me, she cried.
Antoine, do not lie! this is my
brother Paul's W. where die
you get it?'
, will Mademoiselle read it to me ?
She bent her head over it, and hel
hand shook like an pen-leaf.
Things are looking black for you
The only plan | can think of is fight
} or the one suggested. Should you
r determine on the former let me know
!, and | will do all | can to delay cri
Sis
: We were neither of US great schol
ars, though mademoiselle could rea(
8 beautifully, and when she looked u
and asked me in a frightened ton
r what it meant, l could no more tel
than she.
d Did Paul give it to you?' she ask
y ed presently. What has he been S
L near without coming to see us, to Sc
r me {? and then she put her poor teal
|, ful eyes again over the paper, an
It read once more.
d Its very dreadful she said; 'bu
do you know, Antoine, sometimes
J, think that She paused. 1T
r, awful not to be able to trust one
n own brother she added. Let US g
/; to Louis
1t Monsieur was in his room, standin
out of the window, as, was his habi