The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1876-06-29
con, dear, no! / couldn't /

tantaliZe me-wllat 1liss oce, y =
make you so gay a9a her
every true Frenchnaii wea II
of modrni1gS's
"The Marquis de MontlQ j
Al liberty
eAf liberty Ho, a4pp
that ia ationarS M
di(led hint
bims Eulali
Mithim toescs
l.obespietre more lenibht q
beast of pFeyg No dlali
| fed nom Paris reached Toulouse, az
iound shelter under my roof"
The cheek Of Eulalie turned ashy
pale.
4Under ryqprrsofe'. she fulterel. :
aDoSon know the penalty of shelter
ing a fugitive from justice2"
"It is death upon the scaffold, an
swered the youngman calmly. "ht
better that a thousand times than
the sin of ingratisude; the sin pf
turning a deaf ear to the claims Of
humanity.
"My own noble Eugenel" exolainl-
ed the young girl, enthusiastically
pressing her lovers hand. "Every
day increases my love, my respect
for you, and my sense of myow un
worthiness. But you will never have
to blush for the inferiority of your
wife,"
"What do you mean dearest2" in.
quired Eugene with alarm.
"This is no time for marriage
said Eulalie sadly. Images of death
and violence meet our eyes which
ever way they turn. We were born,
Eugene in melancholy times, and our
lives are misplaced, We shall meet
hereafter; on this earth, | fear, our
destinies will never be united"
"Prophetcss of evil!' said Beauval-
lon gayly. Your rosy lips belle your
gloomy angury. No, Eulalie, this
dark cloud cannot forever oyershad-
ow the land-even now 1 think l
can see glimpses of the blse sky. lie
bon temps ricndra,-the good time is
,conihgSS=untir slten ilalie Bssnte
that | will claim your promised
hand.
The conversation Of the lovers had
been so animated and interesting
that they did not notice the moment
when old Mannetto had glided like
Il spectre from the apartment.
Beauvallon fingered awhile
parting is such sweet sorrow,"-
and finally reluctantly tore himself
from the presence of Eulalie, promi-
sing to see her again on the ensuing
day, and let her know whatever had
transpired in the interim.
AS he approached the streets in
which his store and house were stu
atcd, he heard the confused murmur
of multitude, and soon perceived,
on turning the corner, that a very
large crowd was collected outside his
door. There were men and women
many of the former armed with pixies
and sabrcs-the latter, the refuse of
the populace, who appeared like
birds of evil omen at every scene Of
violence and tumult.
A hundred voices called out his
name as he approached, and monac-
ing gestures were addressed to him
by the multitude.
"Citizens," said the merchant,
"what is the meaning of all this?"
"You shall know, traitor" shrek
a palsied hag of eighty, whose lurid
eyes had already gloated on every
public execution that had taken
place in Toulouse. "Here is citizen
Dumart of the revolutionary com.
mittee-ah, he is true friend Of the
people-he is no aristocrat in dis.
guise! cire lc citoycn Dumart"
"Long live Citizen Dumart, Down
with the aristocrats!" shouteda q hun
dred voices.
The Citizen Dumart was a sallow
faced man, dressed in rusty black
wearing n large tri-colorcd cockadc
in his threc-cornered hat, with a sash
of the same color girt around his
waist. His bloodshot eyes expressed
n mixture of cowardice with ferocity
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