Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1877-06-13
The Marquis Revenge
A TALE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
BY DAVID KER.

Monsieur is sketching the old cha.
feauY 1t is we'll worth the trouble; but
for my part, like not to look at it,"
[ started and turned round I had
seated myself on moss-grown bowlder,
upon a gentle slope overlooking the
broad, smooth stream of the Doubs.
Just below me the river curved round
the base of steep hill, on the brow of
which stood the ruins of an old chateau.
such relics are not uncommon in France,
but this ruin differed from those which
i bad yet seen, as the corpse of man
cruelty murdered differs from that of
sone who has died in his sleep. The
ground riven as if by an earthouake-
the charred stones scattered far and
wide around-the yawnings riffs in the
masonry, still remaining erect-all
spoke, not of gradual decay, but of sud-
den and terrible destruction. A gloom
at fearful tragedy seemed to brood
owe. that CHASTITY ruin, looming grimly
against clear summer sky, like the
shadow of one great sin upon stainless
life
AS turned I saw beside me an old
man in the dress of a well to do peasant
IS che country. The long white hai1
and beard, inclosing bronzed face in a
KIND OF frame-a large, bright eye-a
bold erect bearing-above all, deep.
earnest look, as of one who had done
and suffered above a measure Of his
Hnd-showed me at once I had fallen in
with character"
You say you don't like to look at
that ruin yonder? Well, it certainly is
not pleasant sight; but what do YOU
know about it?''
:" Everything, answered the old peas
ant, emphatically. ~ saw it in all it's
spleador, and [ saw it in the hour of it's
destruction, seventy years ago. If YOU
care to hear the story, I'll tell it YOU"
Inc otter was not to be sighted. I
motioned my companion to a seat on the
stone beside me, and disposed myself to
listen to him.
| remember the days before the rev.
<alution," he began, ''although I was
then only child; but I remember them.
Just as one might recollect a horrid
nightmare. L seem to have dreamed of
being hungry, and cold, and ragged, and
helpless, for ever so long-and then sud-
denly to have walked up free and we'll
Oft All that we peasants wanted was
enough to live upon, instead of being
) tias<sd Sllve by the mobiles; and the rev.
SoIutlon did that for US, at least Look
at me? In my childhood [ ran barefoot
along the high-road, begging of the
passers-by, with no hope of ever being
BETTER OF than my father, a poor laborer,
who lived upon black bread and onions,
AMI Esever knew what it was to be warm
Or well-clothed from one years end to
another. | remember that in those days
4 used always to think of heaven as
place where one would be allowed to sit
close to a big fire, and to eat ones fill of
the white bread and dainty roast-meat
which my cousin, Pierre, the soldier
(who was OF guard at the Chateau de
Quesaoy when his Colonel dined there),
had told me about. Well Monsieur, /
have now sheep and cattle of my own,
and a good bit of grain land into the
bargain. Ny son Gaspard is an attorney
~ Lyons; and my grandson, Baptiste, is
a Lieutenant. Show me the peasant be-
fore the revolution whose son or grand
son could have become an officer. Bah
Those were the days when the mobiles
did what they liked; and pretty life
they led US. Now, thank God, they
can't cut your throat or carry off your
wife without any one daring to say
word; but before 'S9 it was another mat
ter 1t was no joke then to fall in the
way of party of young chevaliers, hot
with wine and mischief, and ready for
any devils prank that came into their
heads. Every man that came in their
road was sure to be beaten or run
through. I can't remember even now
Though | was quite a child when it hap
pened) the night when our young lord,
Henri de Quesnoy, and three or four of
his wild companions, secured the streets
of Besancon with their riding-whips, and
made every one they met 90 down on
Their knees III the mud and cry, Vive
lie rol- Then, as if that was not enough
for them, they broke ever so many win
dows, rang the great alarm-bell till they
reused up the whole town, and finished
by hanging a dead dog at the door of
the Mayor. Little did they dream, then,
that the day was to come when they
should themselves be hung like dogs to
every laGp-iron, and when their blood
should run in the streets of their own
town. ~ 81 sFes ~
Our old seigneur, Maurice de Quesnoy.
who lived at the chateau yonder in the
year 80, was such man as Pve heard
about in the Gospels" one who feared