The Republican journal., 1872-06-20

to be feared by the c0n0tle, as he used to
call US; and, faith we had good reason
to fear him too! 1T the chateau We're still
standing, | could show you the very tow
er on the top of which he hanged Jean
Ferret, for snaring game in the woods to
feed his children, who were starving.
Then there was poor Simon Allezard,
whose wife he had carried off lie lav in
wait for the marquis one night, aud fired
at him; but the bullet only went through
his hat, and didn't even touch him. The
marquis had no weapon but his light ra-
| pier, and he wouldn't even condesce nd to
draw that, but he wrenched Simon's own
| gun from him. and beat out his brains
with the butt-end. In short he did such
! things that we used to cross ourselves at
the very sound of his name, Just as the
Bretons do at that OF Giles de Retz, the
wicked Count Bluebeard, who murdered
all his wives. one after another 1t would
take me till midnight if | were to tell you
all the horrible stories heard about him,
as we sat crouched round our little spark
of fire at night, squeezing close to each
other to try and get warm.-till at last
hardly dared stir out of the house for fear
of meeting him.
1t was in the spring Of 'S9-the year Of
the great lWlbute = that judgment first
began to o"ertake NJ. lie Marquis. He had
! been away al the court for two years. and
we knew nothing Of him except that his
steward kept squeezing more and more
money out of us every month, to pay for
his masters fine doings at Versailles,
when, all of sudden, word got about
that he was coming; and, sure enough,
| f.yU dave l.,tar bn anI with hi
whole crowd of grand folks that fairly
weeks together, there was nothing but
card-plaving, and making love, all day
long. Now it happened that among the
ladies was one who had been beauty at
the court t,-Mademoisele Claire de Mon
talbert. they called her,-who had shown
much favor to our young lord, Monsieur
Henri, when they were at Versailles to-
| gether; but when she came down here, she
seemed to have grown tired of him, and
| began to smile upon his great friend, Nj.
| Albert de St. Florent; till at last, rs young
blood is always hot Especially when
| there's Il lady in the case), she bred adead-
| ly quarrel between them. One evening in
| May, my cousin Pierre, the soldier, who
| was up at the chateau attending upon his
colonel, came down to us and told a ter
rible story. That very morning, the two
| young gentlemen, with other two to sec
ond them, had come out of the chateau
before any one else was stirring, and
away to a little open place at the corner
of the wood, and there they fell to. M.
| Henri was Il good blade, but this time he
was too hot to be prudent, and at the fifth
pass, he was run clean through the body.
But he came Of race that always died
| hard; and the moment he felt the steel
pierce him, he threw himself forward
| upon the sword, and, shortening his own,
ran it into M. Albert's side so liercely.
! that the blade snapped right across. Then
he fell down and died where he stood
| But NJ. Albert had little to boast of, for
kiS wound was mortal, and two days later
he died also And so the lives of two
brave men We're thrown away tor the ca
price Of Il Woman--One Of those great la
dies without heart and without conscience,
whom God c, Gated to avenge the sins of
the u0bicsst upon themselves.
When the news of all this got abroad,
our people (God forgive them y began to
rejoice, and to say that now the aristocrats
We're beginning 10 devour each other, and
that he who had robbed SO many Of their
children knew now what it was to lose n
child himself But, aS we afterwards
learned, the old marquis, however he
might grleVe, was not one to let his grief
be known. When he heard the news, he
| never sighed or trembled, but only asked
how it Jared with NJ. de st. Florent; and
| when they told him that the wound was
MORTAL he smiled his own cruel smile,
and muttered to himself Good The De
Quesnoys always strike homer And after
that he never mentioned his sons name
again.
Well Monsieur, Il few months later
came the news of the fall of the Bastille
and the peasants began to lift up their
heads, and talk of doing something; but
no one dared to speak openly, for there
were troops quartered in Besancon, and
nobody knew yet whether they would join
us or not. 0 heard afterwards that they
were ready enough to side with us. but,
having no leaders, and each man doubt
ing whether his comrades would stand by
him, they did not stir.) But by the open
ing of the year 80, the soldiers in all the
garrison towns had communicated with
each other and We're all on the side OF the
people; so, one day in March, the two
Besancon regiments rose as one man, de-
posed their officers, shot their colonel,
and elected Serg. Roussel in his stead
(the same Koussel who afterwards COM
mandcd u brigade under the great en-
peror.) TheR our peasants began TO think
that it was time to square accounts with
Nj. lie Marquis especially rs all his grand
friends had gone away, and they were
only few lackeys left to defend him.
But somebody must have told him of what
was going On; for just as the peasants
were all gathered in the village yonder,
with hatchets ami pitchforks, and what not,
ready to 90 up to the chateau. there came a
rattle of boots along the road, and into
the mark place broke the old marquis
himself, on his great black horse, with his
gay dress glitlering in the sunshine, and
his face quiet and smooth as if he were
going into II drawing groom; but his lips
were set together like the Jaws of a wolf
trap. When | saw him coming, | shrank
away fearing that he would seize and de-
vour me even among them all but could
see how he reined up his horse (the crowd
parted before him right and ett,) leaped
from the saddle and stood facing us,
with his arms folded on his breast Nor
UftN llllHk L S6t Hill IOW- tIdWH up
to his full height, with his lip curling in
defiance, and his eye looking through us
like the flash of sword, rs he said in
clear, scointul voice: Il am told that you
have something to say to me. Here | am.
What do you want?' But there was no
answer. At the sight Of his face and the
sound of his voice, coming among us this
way like an all-powerful master, the old
fear of him and his, branded into US by
ages OF oppression, rose up again stronger
than ever; and the whole crowd Of furious
men hung their heads like rated school
boys, and melted away before him. 7om-
ne1rc dc ciol! tyrant, and servant of the
Devil, though he was, he did deed that
day worthy of the Twelve Paladns; and
perhaps the bon Dieu may yet have mercy
upon him, for he was brave mani"
recalled the weird pathos Of the Eng
| lish ballad
''That Heaven may yet have more mercy than man
On such bold riders sou"-
and looked with involuntary admiration
| unon this thoroughly French svmnathv