The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1876-03-31

women they loved should unnerve their
hearts and unsteady their hands. After
them followed the artillery, the wagons
loaded with provisions, and-oh, sick
ening sight!-the ambulances that
would convey so many of the brave men
now leaving the city with buoyant tread
back again within its walls, wounded,
helpless, and dying. af ..s..-.,... |
At the head of his company rode Ar
mand de Rocheceur. With head erect,
and lips firmly compressed to avoid
their trembling, he led his men past
the windows of the boulevard where |
Ninon de Valcour stood watching the
exit of the troops from the city. He
did not turn his head, but the hand that
held the bride rein shook as the heavy
tread of his powerful horse bore him
slowly beyond the gaze of the bright
eyes that looked down upon him.
Quietly Ninon watched him 90,
steadily she looked after his retreating
form. A soft mist clouded the flashing
eyes, and as the distance hid him from /
her view she murmured, gently, Y''Ar-
mand, God watch over thee!"' o,.et
AL day long, that terrible 30th of
November, the incessant roar of can
non echoed back into the stiffness of
the city's streets. Paris held her breath
in anguish, Her best, her bravest, and
her noblest were fighting for her deliv-
erance, in deadly peril, just ontside the
city walls. Outside the walls the sick
ening drama of battle, with all its hor-
rid ;ccompaniments of tumult, noise
and bloodshed; inside, the no less hor-
rible torture of suspense, as those left
behind waited with blanched faces and
bated breath for news from the scene of
conflict. 49, xaK.L at,14gusH
Among the foremost in the strife Oh
that terrible morning rode the boyish
officer, Armand de Roeheceur. The
pure blood of his Norman ancestry
courses wildly through his veins to-day,
France was his life, and he would give
his life for France. His hatred of the
plebeian Bonapartes, of the odious re-
public, were all forgotten when for the
first time he found himself face to face
with the foreign foe who dared to attack
the very capital and strike at the heart
of his sacred land of France.
Early in the afternoon Champigny
yielded to the passionate attack of the
fresh French troops. Amazed at their
defeat, the Germans fell back to recover
from the bewilderment produced by this
almost their frst-reverse. Then,
rallying from their surprise, reinforced
with fresh troops and protected by their
batteries, they fell upon the French
with sudden fury. Dismayed by the un-
expected attack, weary with long days
fighting, the half disciplined French
soldiery fell back. With wild feeling,
half fury, half despair, Armand saw the
line give way. 'Cowards !" he mutter-
ed below his breath. Then, turning
suddenly to his men, he cried "Cour-
age! Will you go back to, your women
and tell them you fled before Prussian
guns? On! on! Conquer or die like
Frenchmen!'' Then he rode forward !;
but the terrified, panic-stricken men
were deaf to his call, and suffered him
to 60 alone. With his right arm up
lifted he rushed toward the Prussian
line. With the cry still on his lips, a
fragment of shell struck the power
full right arm, shattered it as If it
were the rotten branch of tree, and
tore its way across the fair boyish fore
head just above the eyes. Prone on
the earth lay the powerful form of the
brave young officer. A cry of admira-
ton rose from the lips of the men be-
hind him. Then they turned and fed,
and left him to his fate. '' ,'''.
The evening shadows fell over the
battle plain, quieting the noise and
strife; the fighting ceased. The Prus-
sian guns were silent, and the French
troops retired sullenly back toward
Paris. On the battlefield dusky forms
came fitting about With sable uni
forms, relieved only by the red cross of
Geneva, they went silently about on
their merciful errands. Two of these
fministering spirits bend over the form
of Armand de Rocheceur. "Dead /?
poor felfow!'' asks one, "No, he
breathes." Then they lift him gently
upon the ambulance; and the brave
young officer, who rode out from the
gates of Paris that morning full of life
and health and courage, is borne back
again blind, MANNED, the light gone out
from his eyes forever, and the powerful
form with its strength and beauty for
ever crippled. .-~4hey lay him on a mar
row bed in a crowded hospital. 80 The
| gentle hands Of a Sister of Charity dress
| the terrible wounds, and as she looks at
him she murmurs, pityingly, Poor fel-
low, he is blind!''si atliltfAtst atHi
l3l Ninon has listened all day to the
sound of that terrible cannonading,
4 waited all night in frightened suspense
i for news from the scene of battle--for
idings from Armand de Rocheceur, In
the morning no word has come, and the