The morning star and Catholic messenger., 1873-01-26
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION OF 'es.
A TALE OF Ia .vENDEE.
m TWO cHArrxHs.
* II 4 q II ~
CHAPTER L.

N TWO CHAF1RRS.
.G- Hdak-
-~.------.-.--- CHAPTER L.
UIs was in tes-thas horrible 49, whose very
beat With . sense Of terror and security, as
Rlaen NO gaze on the painted panorama Of q
hAStleJReid or some scene of crime and danger
cs
suence OF art. The words have spell in them
that faeinates us, and defies us TO pass ON with
evoke. ) Well, it is of this tragic 's3 that 1 am
going to speak. But not to describe its hor-
rors. It only makes the frame of my story,
most veracious story and full of the spirit of
that wonderful epoch, where wo see all that
was noble and loveliest in humanity shine
forth by the side of its most criminal and ap-
pslling abefrations.
1t was Christmas eve fourscore years ago.
The fertile soil of La Nendee, red-dyed by
streams of patriot blood, was hidden under q
deep quilt' Of snew. All the landscape slept as
and plains were garmented in white. Tho
snow had fallen heavily during the night, and
its nntroaden purity was as smooth and uni-
down upon it and grew, pals.st The cottages
that dotted the fair expanse hardly broke Its
Iniformity, for they too were liyered in white,
Mhitewasbed walls only degree lesa dazzling
than the bri ightness of the ground. Tho hedgh-
% that divide the fields in La yendee as in
Egindh we're mleH nk ana eSxsEsd with sn9W
tered and shone on the soft, unbiemished sur
face, and the trees with rolls of snow resting
ON their bare gaHRt arms held up clusters Of
;icicles that sparklsd like orystaIs in the tepid
y The. village Of chamtncs lay in this white
stood the ehuroh, and close 6y the Ii ' Church % TIE
presbytery. - -. -
On the road that led from st. Florent to
ChaIntoce young, 1.-the figure was crushing
tho crisp white carpet with long, elastic
step. His face was concealed, the upper part
Of it by q cap drawn low over his forehead,
and the lower part by woollen scarf wound
round his throat, swallowing up the chin and
nose in his capacious folds. The weather was
not cold enough to need his osten,atious dis
play of eache,ne:; true Ia nappe blanche de la
Noea (white cloth of Chrfstmas), as the peas
ants call it, was spread, but there was not n
breath of wind. and it was not freezing. 1t
had frozen during the night Just enough to
fringe of glass from the roofs of the houses and
deck the trees with iccles but this was n ut what
the Vendeans called freezing. The Loire pursued
its journey majestically to the sea unchecked
by the icy hand of tho black frost, the cruel
black frost, that had but to blow with its black
breath for one night on the strong deep stream
to paralyze its waters and chill their moaning
into 10y dumbness. So, tho cold was not Bit.
: ter. The traveller knew it, too, for on comm q
to'e point of the road where it turned abruptly
and disclosed the church with its slim, eray
& belfrg. and, on the rising ground beyond Il, .
q Windmill, stih as spectre suspended midway
between tbe white earth and the pale sky, he
anred binaseH there was no one in sight, and
thon, raising his beaver cap, stood bareheaded
in the attitude of . man saluting some object
Of love and vehePatiop.
shadows of thy walls, aad now have come
home, and thou dost greet me with the same
unchanged, unchanging welcomep
Ho replaced his cap, drew it low over his
face. and continued his way.
Home, did say I" he muttered presently.
Have still q home to come tot CASTOR IL
VT0nn roly f.1l b.
La Vendee in Gods and the Kings cause. And
Mariew
A suden flush suffused his bronzed check.
The pilgrim walked on with a quicker step,
and was soon at the gate of the presbytery.
Ahi here it. is, just as 1 left 1.-THE little
wicket that opened SO often with q ready wei
como. good omen 10 begin wi,br"
He pushed it aud walked on The door of the
dWelling-house stood ajar; winter and summer
it-was never shut he pushed it open and
"Come in |" said RI. ie Cure,
And Francois Leonval entered and stood
lace to face with the only father he had known
6eS "DsS
bnPtzed bin, and taught him, and wept with
him beside his mothers grave, was just the
same sa1 sa S Hhen ne had left him, benign, cheer
whittier, bat the same in everything else,
nothing was changed within. He looked up
promptly, closed his book. and then, with .
glance where charity that thinketh no eviW
deprecated q certain vague mistrust, he said
AWhat can do for you, my boy ="
welcaDo Jon give me Z"
"FrancOisl my son my best-loredp And
the old man held out his arms, aud the two
olaspe1 each other.
"Ahl my son !" exclaimed the cure, when
his emotion left him power to speak, this is
an hour worth suffering for; it pays me for
many days of anguish. Little did dream to
have such q joy before We met in heaven. NV
son my boy Blessed be God and our Lady Of
Mercy, who have watched over you and
brought you back to mel never thought to
see your face before died /
"And Why not, mon pere ~ said Francois,
and embracing him again; "so1
know the prodiRalB are Sure 60 reLuTn sooner