Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-03-08

hungrier; the weak died, and the strong
lived only to suffer. Terrible reports of
the distress and misery about her made
their way to Ninon. Her friends gath
cred around, but their discourse was
only of the horror of the siege.
One among Ninon's friends was miss
ing-the quick, eager tread Of Armand
de Rocheceur sounded no more In
Ninon's salon. The boyish form of the
Young officer, with his untarnished uni
form and unused sword, appeared no
more among her guests. And when
she found he did not come, NinOn be-
gan to miss him. At first she smiled at
his absence, then insensibly she began
to watch for his coming, and as the
DAYS passed one after another, Ninon
grew anxious. Sometimes she would
sit alone in the twiEght-the lonely lit
tie baroness, rich in everything but love
and the sweet lips would murmur,
cat least he loved me, lie bebe" Then
a deep, far-offlook would come into the
brilliant eyes. "Where is the prince ?"
1t was the evening of the goth of No
vember. Ninon was sitting alone,
watching the slow motions Of the hands
of the clock as they pointed to eleven,
when quick, hurried tread sounded
behind the chair, and the clanking of a
sword startled her.
ArmandI' she exclaimed, as she
turned and encountered the excited
glance of the young soldier:
eyes, Ninon. At last Paris is reused.
Tomorrow there will be grand sortie.
The order has been given. With a
hundred thousand men we shall leave
Paris, march upon Champigny-on to
Villiers. Ducrot has sworn to re-enter
Paris only victorious or dead Ihave
come to say goodbye. Before to-mor-
row night Prussian ball or bayonet
may have Quoted forever the heart
that loves you so passionately. Kiss
me Ninon; say God bless you 7"
Then he sank down at her feet, and
laid his head upon the little hands that
rested on her knee.
Ninon lifted the brown hair from the
fair young forehead; moment her
lips rested there, and she murmured,
"God bless you, my Armand !" Then
he pressed her passionately against his
heart, and left her.
In the morning the troops were in
motion. Paris thronged the streets
and crowded the windows on each side
to watch the sad procession as it passed.
Cheer after cheer rent the air; "Vive
la France p GA la Victoire p sounded
from the Threats of the lookers-on as
the long defile wound it's way to the
gates. The well-drilled men marched
silently along, their countenances
grave and severe They were about to
make last effort for Paris-for France
With stern and set determination they
moved forward, looking neither to
right nor left lest the sorrowful faces of
the women they loved should unnerve
their hearts and unsteady their hands
After them followed the artillery, the
wagons loaded with provisions, and
oh, sickening 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.
At the head of his company rode
Armand de Rocheceur. With head
erect, and lips firmly pressed 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 go,
steadily she looked after his retreating
form. Asoft mist clouded the flashing
eyes, and as the distance hid him from
her view she murmered, gently car
mand, God watch over thee p
All day long, that terrible 3Oth of
November, the incessant roar of
cannon 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 de-
iverance, in deadly peril, just outside
the city walls Outside the walls the
sickening drama Of battle, with all its
horrid accompaniment of tumult,
noise, and bloodshed; inside, the no less
horrible torture of suspense, as those
left behind waited with blanched faces
and bated breath for news from the
scene of conflict.
Among the foremost in the strife on
that terrible morning rode the boyish
officer, Armand de Rochecour. 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 at
tack the very capital and strike at the
heart of his sacred land Of France
early in the afternoon Champaigny
yielded to the passionate attack Of the
French troops. Amazed at their defeat,
the Germans fell back to recover from
the bewilderment produced by this
almost their frst-reverse. Then,
raIlying from theirsurprise, REINFORCED
with fresh troops and protected by their
batteries thew fell unOn the French