The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1876-03-04

eyard where Ninon de Valcour stood watch
ing 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. A soft
mist clouded the flashing eyes, and as the
distance hid him from view she murmured,
gently, "Armand, God watch over theeE
Ali day long, that terrible 30th of Novem-
Der, the incessant roar of cannon echoed
back into the stiffness of the city's streets.
Paris held her baeath in anguish. Her best,
her brayest. and her noblest were fighting
for her deliyerance, in deadly peril, just out
side the CITY walls. Outside the walls the
sickening drama of battle, with all its horrid
Accomplishments of tumult, noise, and blood
shed; inside, the no less horrid 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, Ar
mand de Rocheceur. 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 repub-
lie We're 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 Ger
ment produced by this-almost their first
reverse. Then, rallying from their surprise,
reinforced with fresh troops and protected by
their batteries, they fell upon the French
with sudden fury. Dsmayed by the unex-
pected attack, weary with long days fight
ing, the half disciplined French soliiery
fell back. With wild feeling, half fury, half
despair, Armand saw the line give way.
"Cowardsp' he muttered below his breath.
Then, turning suddenly to his men he cried:
Courage! Will you go back to your wom-
en- and tell them you fed before the Prussian
guns? On! On! Conquer or die like French.
menr' Then he rode forward; but the terri
fled, panic-stricken men were deaf TO bis cal,
and suffered him TO go alone. With bis right
arm uplifted he rushed toward the PrussIan
line. With the cry still on his lips, frag-
ment of shell struck the powerful right arm,
shattered it as II 1t were the rotten branch
OF tree, and tore its way across the fair
boyish forehead just above the eyes. Prone
on the earth lay the powerful form of the
brave young officer. A cry of admiration rose
from the lips of the men behind 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 fight
ing ceased. The Prussian guns were silent,
and the French troops retired sulenly back
towards Paris. On the battle field dusky
forms came fitting about; with sable uni
forms, relieved only by the red cross of Gene
va, they went silently about on their merciful
errands. Two of these ministering spirits
bend over the form of Armand de Rocheceur.
"Dead? poor fellowv asks one. "No, he
breaths." 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, maimed-the light
gone out of his eyes forever, and the power
full form with its strength and beauty forever
crippled. They lay him on narrow bed in
a crowded hospital. The gentle hands of a
Sister of Charity dress the terrible wounds,
and as she looks at him she murmurs, pity
ingly, 'fpoor fellow, he is blindp
Ninon has listened all day to the sound Of
that terrible cannonading, waited all night
in frightened suspense for news from the
scene of battle-for tidings from Armand de
Rochecoeur. In the morning no word has
come, and the suspense grows more and
more intolerable every moment. Dark cir
cles have appeared under the brown eyes,
and their brilliancy is all faded-gone out IN
that long night OF watching. Restlessly Nj
non PAGES the long salem. Finally a sudden
impulse seizes her. II will 60 and find him."
1t is long and weary search. They direct
her from one place to another. The streets
are filled with hurrying, eager crowd, each
intent upon his own affairs, and it is long be.
fore she can find any one who can tell her
where to look for him. At last they direct
her to the hospital where he is lying. Ninon
passes between the long rows of beds, sees
the suffering faces OF the men that fill them,
listens to the groans of the suffering and dy-
ing, and the tears fill her eyes and roll down
upon her blanching cheeks. SIT is too much
for Madame to witness,' suggests young
surgeon. "No, no, if they must suffer it why
should not see it," and the spoiled child OF
luxury braces up her nerves and goes on to
meet the sorrow that lies before her.
She finds him at last. As she approaches
his bedside she trembles. She looks at the
white bandages that lie upon his eyes and
shudders. Then she speaks to him and the
glad smile that fits across his lips treasures
her. His single hand goes out TO meet hers,
from the nurse attracts Ninou's attention,
You must get well frst.'
From an old soldier who watched over him
Ninon learns the history of the sortie. As
she listened to the story of how bravely the
young soldier bore himself on that dreadful
day, and how he fell when, goarded to fury
by the desertion of his men, he rushed for
ward alone upon the Prussian line, Nilon's
heart swells with new and sweet emotion.
The lovely mouth wears its happiest smile.
There is look of newly found happiness in
the brown eyes. Suddenly they fill with
have found him, the prince"
Then the Sister of Charity comes and whis-
pers, gently and pityingly, MADAME, he will
be blind"
All the horror contained in that dreadful
sentence sinks into Ninon's soul, and with a
voice whose utterance is choked with sobs
she cries out, Armand, my love! God help
youv'
Then she lifts her tear-staine face, lit up
with its wonderful light of love and pity, and
looking at the sympathetic countenance, Of
the poor Sister, whispers, "He shall see with
my eyes,"
The Sister looks into the depth Of the
lovely eyes raised to hers and thinks, "He is
Through long nights of fever and days of
weary restlessness Ninon watched by her
lovers side. Strength returns to the crippled
body, but the sorrowful ewes was always that
helpless, vacant expression peculiar to the
blind, and the strong right arm is represented
only by an empty sleeve.
He is not forbidden to speak now; and one
day as he hears Ninon's footsteps by his bed
side, and the soft rustic of her dress as she
bends over him, he says, "You are always
with me, Ninon, are you not, or do I dream
it?"
81 am always with you, Armand"
"What brings you here?'
because love you, DEAR"
Glove me?-but am cripple and blind.'
"Yes, Armand. Your right arm and your
eyes you have given to France. Will you give
the rest to me?'
''Ninonp and the left arm, the only one
he has, drew her quickly and passionately to
bis side. Her soft breath plays against his
cheek, and as his lips met hers she whispers,
"Armand, my prince, love you."
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