The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1875-11-18

Mexican" and Don Miguel stalked
out of the shop with a bitter scowl of
hate on his face.
It is bad business, master,n said
the Indian.
eyes, Texcoco."
"It is ife-thrust-neither more
nor less," continued the water-carrier,
Diable! You don't mean it?''
"Don't 60 out without your pistol,
MASTER"
Nonsense
81 am sorry"
$50 am l."
"You stood up. for me-" said the In
dian.
"Did I? Well, would do that for
any man, though my friend, the water
carrier, you have lost me customer -
Customers go and customers come,
adieu; you have 500 pesos? I heard
you say so. Guanajuato is pretty safe,
at least for those who don't carry their
fortunes about with them. Good by,
sir; second blow from that gentleman
should not have relished, one taste
was sufficient; but what justice can
poor devil like Texcoco get,n and say
ing this the water-carrier left.
GA bad beginning" said Narcisse,
81 have fortnight before me, and have
lost day and customer" Narcisse
was in bad spirits that night, as he went
homeward to his lodgings, in a street
near the Park Ell Cantador. "Alas!
my pretty little house at the Batignolle,
it will not be mine. Perhaps by slav-
ing for thirty years to come I might
own it. Had l been able to Sc
cure the shop, it would have been only
matter of ten years." That was all
that Narcisse thought for many long,
weary day afterward, for the next mo-
ment a man sprang from behind mi
mosa tree at Narcisse, and the poor
coiffeur had knife plunged into the
| middle of his back. It was daybreak
before the patrol found Narcisse, and
carried him for dead to the hospital.
As the surgeon stripped the man of his
clothing, now stiff with blood, Narcisse
seemed to be awakened out of his
lethargy, and though speechless, made
| signs that his pockets should be exam
/ ined. In his pocket, in a wallet, Mar
cisse had kept his money in French and
English bank notes. The surgeon
seemed to comprehend what the wound
ed man wanted. "There is nothing
here" he said. Evidently Narcisse
understood him, and he sank back ex-
hausted on the bed. The next day a
terrible fever set in, poor Narcisse was
delirious, and raved about the pretty
little house in the Batignolle On the
third day Narcisse was worse. He hung
between life and death for a week, then
slowly mended. One day he was just
able to make out that some dusky form
was bending over him in prayer, and
that presently a dark hand proffered
him cup of cold water. ssIt is I, my
master. Don't speak; you are mend
ing, so they say. cannot stay longer;
have important business" Confused
as was Narcisse, he thought he recog-
nized a familiar voice. He fancied it
was the water-carrier, for the surgeon
said to the Sister of Mercy, "Well, I
never saw one of those Indios show
feeling before. But keep him out. The
Frenchman's condition is too low to al
low of any ones even talking to him. !"
That next night, as Narcisse lay in his
fever, he thought he heard a stir in the
ward. Another patient was being put
in the bed next to him. Narcisse was
conscious of hearing aman in his agony
Presently Narcisse slept, and when he
slightly refreshed. The sun was gleam-
ing in the room, gliding even the squalid
hospital chamber. Narcisse could see
now clearly; his eyes had been yelled
before. There was not soul moving
in the room. All the occupants of the
beds were apparently asleep; even the
good Sister dozed in her chair. He
glanced at the patient in the cot near
him. Horror! Was he deliriousp No,
no; he was not-but, as sure as he was
alive, the man in the bed within feet
of him was Don Miguel! And Don
Miguel was dead.
It was just one month before Mar
cisse left the hospital. In two or three
weeks more the surgeon thought the
coifeur would be quite well again.
| "Had you been an Englishman, a
German, or an American, your little
history would have come to finis. Too
much ale-too much bser-too much
brandy does their business" the sur
geon had added. Thankful for having
escaped with life, Narcisse did not wor-
ry over his loss. Still he thought of the
little house in the Batignolles and how
he had to begin life again. GAS soon
as / am strong, will get place, save
money, and go to the City Of Mexico.
The air of Guanajuato does not suit me.
Poor devil of cock-ighter, what fate
was hist" Narcisse wandered feebly
in the neighborhood of his old shop.
i Whafi Was Il n0ssihle2 IT Was NOT