Rapides gazette. (Alexandria, La.) 1869-187?, 1873-07-26
eyes, and ripe lips just parted in joyous

..,;I r. J~oe Poi DCu III JOyous
In the long salon beyond are rows oi
naughty faces, blooming faces, stern.
wicked, ssir.iiy faces. One after another
sney m.ed the burden Of life, bore il
aawhpe, then laying 1t down, crept away
W oheir long, dreamless sleep, under the
stones in the little chapel. Now there is
only one weak woman's hand to lift the
banner of the name they bore so long and
nobly. Stretch out your snado wy hands,
that its folds trail not in the dust
Strengthen me, shades Of the dead, that
bear it not unworthily!
The air is still with that stiffness that
speaks of life, not death. Somewhere
in the distance, Jean is drawing water.
The creaking of the wheel becomes mu-
sical through faintness. In the farm
yard the busy hens are cackling. and
one loud-voiced cock Is Growing Justify.
Lisette Is Gathering about the kitchen,
singing plantive little song; the chorus
reaches me-"Mdrie Marie .je pous ain,e
toujours." / ana idly wond. ring who was
MarieG And did the stranger love her
always?
Presently Lisette's heels click along
the hall. "Mademoiselle's keys" she
says, with flash of her white teeth
Jean has found them among the peri
Wrinkle stars. take them from her hand.
One, smaller than the rest, has slipped of
the ring. A little leather box, clasped
with iron, stands before me on the win
dow-seat. A few days before her death,
my grandmother gave it into my keeping.
Take it, mon enfant; it contains the life
secrets of many of your race. There
are stories, too, from other lips, as
they were told me. You may like
to read them. You will keep it
for my sake" My life has been a
busy one, and l have never op, ned it.
Now. as fit the key into the rusty lock,
and raise the lid, cloud of dust salutes
me, and musty, moldy smell. The pa
pers are mildewed with age; the charac-
ters almost illegible. One is tied with a
black ribbon; choosing this. unroll the
closely written sheets. One falls out it
is in my grandmother's clear, firm hand.
All how long ago was that written
The date is IL.
"a strange thing has occurred. Twas
ill-very lila year ago. Dear Henri
begged the Moorish physician (so he is
called) to see me. He came, tall and
grave. was frightened. He was gentle
to me, and grew to like him. He is al
ways among the poor he will receive
nothing from anyone. Henri offered
him money; he refused. l gave him nv
hand; he touched it with his lips. No
one knows whence he comes, or who he
is. The poor bless his name. He never
smiles. was sure he had some great
sorrow.
"One day man came to me, and hand
ed me letter:
al am i'll. Will you Gomez
81 went with Henri. The room was
hung with black. The physician was by
a window, looking out upon the court ;
it was full of pe0ple-poOr, and many
weeping. he stretched out his hand and
smiled. 81 have sent for you, madame,
to say Farewell and to ask your hus-
band to procure passports for my servant
he is to take me home."
"Not now?' cried; you are ill.,
"No, not neS," ne said; to-mor-
row.
81 had flowers for him-roses, delicate
fuchsias, and pure white lilies. He took
them eagerly, inhaled their perfume,
fondled them, and told me the legends of
their birth.
'.This is my flower he said, lifting a
lily from the rest. 1t has returned to
u.s. He held it close against his heart,
saying softly, Is it an omen of good p
He sat musing long time, gazing up at
"'Au rsvoir,' said, as bent over him.
He looked up brightly:
"No; adieu.'
sat the door turned again; he waved
his hand, then raised the lily to his lips,
and smiled. In the morning, his servant
came, and gave me packet; 1t contained
the manuscript inclose. On the outsiGe
was written:
. 90 This is the story of my life. None will know
1t but you. Adieu.'
"The man was weeping. His master
had died in the night"
unrolled the yellow sheets. There was
no heading to the story they contained. l
looked at the end; there was no name.
1t commenced abruptly:
81 come of a doomed race. A curse
hung over me at my birth. In conse-
Quence of a horrible crime committed by
one Of my ancestors, the good genius of
our race deserted us, and a demon, fierce
and cruel, shadowed us with his black
wings.
1.-The first-born child of every genera
ton was doomed, ii boy, to an early and
violent death; If girl, to life of misery.
Generation after ge leration the curse had
fallen. By water, by fire, by the sword,
the first-born son had perished: and the
mother wept bitter tears when girl was
placed In her arms. There was legend
that the curse would cease when one was
found bold enough to foil the demon ;
then, and then only, would the guardian
of our race return.
"There Is Moorish blood in our veins.
In the third generation our remote an
cestry shows itself. Men call me 'the
Moorish physician True to my in
stincts, / have devoted myself to the
study of Eastern lore. The volume OF
the heavens has long been open to my
gaze. Earth's deepest mysteries have
yielded to my touch. The voices of the
deep breathe mighty secrets to my ear,
and in the war Of the elements, the flash
of the lightning, the roar and thunder OF
the waves, when man shrinks back ap-
palled, my spirit finds its wings.
81 was the second son. My brother
was assassinated by an unseen hand.
II returned to my home, and plunged
deeper and deeper into the abstru ,e