The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1876-07-15

obliged to make him talk in joyous, though
| rather brief letters, such alone as a soldier
always marching onward in a conquered
country has time to write. Sometimes her
strength failed her, and weeks passed With
out news. But the old man grew uneasy
and could not sleep. Then a letter would ar
rive at once from Germany, which she would
come and read to him beside his bed IN gay
tone while choking back her tears. The
colonel listened religiously, smiled with a
critical air, approved, criticised, explained to
us the involved passages. But where he was
really fine was in the answers he sent to his
son.
Never forget that you are Frenehman,'
he said; 'be generous to the poor people. Do
not make this invasion too hard for them to
BEAR Then came endless recommendations.
delightful lectures upon the respect of the
propreties, the politeness which one owes to
ladies', whole code af military honor for the
use of the conquerors. He also added some
general reflections upon politics and the con-
ditions of peace to impose upon the Prus-
slams. In that respect must confess that he
was not exacting.
'The war indemnity, nothing more. Why
should we take their provinces? Can we
make France out of Germany?
He dictated that in a firm voice, and one
| felt so much candor in his words, such fine
| patriotic faith, that it was impossible not to
be touched while listening to him.
Meantime the siege went on; not that of
| Berlin, alas!
1t was the time of the terrible cold wealth
| er, the bombardment, epdemics, and famine.
| But, thanks to our care, our efforts, and to
| the indefatigahle tenderness that surrounded
| him, the old mans serenity was never once
| troubled.
Until the end I contrived to procure for
| him white bread and fresh meat There was
| only enough for him, though; and you can
| not imagine anything more touching than
| these lnnocently-selfish breakfasts of the old
| mantle colonel propped up in the led, his
| napkin tucked under his chin, beside him
| his granddaughter, thin and pale from her
| privations, guiding his bands, making him
drink, helping him to eat all the good cheer.
| Then, revived by his repast in the comfort of
his warm room, the wintry frost outside and
the snow whirling before the windows, the
| old cuirassier would recall his northern cam
| paigns, and would relate to us for the fiftieth
| time the account of that terrible retreat from
Moscow, when they had nothing to eat but
| frozen biscuit and horse-fiesh.
| Can you imagine it, little girl?-we ate
| horsev
''She could easily imaginge it; for two
| months she had eat nothing else. From day
| to day, however, as convalesence approached,
| our task became more and mole difficult. The
numbness of mind and body alike, that had
so well aided us up to that time began to dis
| appear. Two or three times the terrible ex-
| plosion from the Porte Maillot had made him
start, pricking up his ears like a hunting-dog !;
we were Obliged to invent recent victory of
| Bazine before Berlin, and artillery fired in
| henor of the occasion at the Invalides
| Another day, when we hid pushed his bed
up to the window q think it was the day of
the fight at Buzenval,) he saw plainly the
national guords collecting on the avenue de
| la Grande Armee.
what troops are those?" asked the old
man; and heard him mutter TO himself.
| Badly drilled badly driedr
l That was all; but we understood that in
I future we must take great precautions. I'm
happily we were not cautious enough.
One evening on my arrival, the young girl
came TO meet me, looking very anxious.
'Theyfenter the city tomorrow she said.
Was the grandfather's door open? l do
/ know. But, in thinking it over since, 1 re-
| member that he was strangely excited that
evening. He probably overheard us. Oniv
we we talking of the Prussianss and the old
man was thinking of the French, of that tri-
umphal entry which he had waited for so
| long; Mcmahon riding down the flower
strewed avenue, his son beside the marshal,
and he 1.-THE old MANI on his balcony, in full
uniform, saluting the torn flags and powder
blackened eagles as they passed.
| Poor Colonel Jouve! He doubtless imag-
ined that we wished to prevent him from wit
Messing the entry of our troops, in order to
keep him from becoming too much excited.
| So he took care to keep the secret from every
| one; and the next morning at the very hour
| that the Prussian troops were beginning to
| march up the long road that leads from the
Porte Maillot to the Tuleries, that window
was opened softly, and the colonel appeared
on the balcony with his helmet, his long
sword, his worn and glorious uniform as a
cuirasserzof Milhaud. cannot even now
imagine what effort of will, what return of
strength, could have given him the power to
| rise and dress himself. However, there he
was, standing erect behind the railing, aston
| ished to find the streets deserted, the blinds
ofthe houses closed, Paris as silent as tomb,
| flags everywhere, it is true, but such strange
ones white, with red crosses-and no one
there to greet our soldiers!
| For moment he thought he had been
mistaken. But no! Yonder, behind the
| Arch of Triumph, cadenced by the heavy
step of the infantry and by the clang of sa-
bres. sounded Schubert's triumphal march.
Then through the streets ran cry, terrible
cry, TO arms! to arms! The IPrussians are
upon us! And the four ulhans Of the van
guard might have seen yonder on the balco.
| ny tall old man stagger fighting the air with
his hands and then fall PROSTATE. Colonel
| Jouve was dead.