Litchfield enquirer., 1879-05-15
THE VILLA POTTER.
A STORY IN TWO CHAPTERS.
 CHAPTER I.

they do nOt care to taik-perlOQS or 1aflur6 and depression-and in the same way we French are not fond of talking about the late war so let us pass to something else" We had been dining with our notary and were now taking our deserts in the garden, a rough, unkempt kind of place, but picturesque too, in its wealth of roses and wild, tangled creepers. Through the heavy wooden gates you caught glimpse of the Seine calm and placid in the golden light of Summers even ing, Beyond the broad expanse of river, tall poplars caught the last rays of the setting sun, and between these hay band of purple sug- gested distant landscape and far away hills. The last glass of the old Bordeaux, rivaling in color the glowing tints of the sky, was about to disappear. Rosalie, the ancient bonne, stood behind us hugging the big black coffee pot, one man was rolling up cigarette, an- other lighting cigar, while the notary's hand instinctively sought his pocket for his pipe
 ''Rosalie," said one of the guests, turning to the bonne, i've have been talking of the war. You could tell these gentleman few things | about that, eh 2"
 "Ah, ah! Have you told Monsieur Of the havoc the Prussians made with our masters best falence and the holes they burned in the curtains p
 Such are the impressions that great events make on ordinary minds" cried the notary,
 and is it not the same with all of us 1? In my own mind. the great tragedies of the war oc- cupy less space than the insignificant part played by myself"
 It was quite clear that in spite of his alleged reluctance to talk about the war, the worthy notary had story on his mind, and it requir- ed little pressing on the part ef his friends to elicit It.
 Tt was a sad, dull time," he began, ''as most of us remember, the time of the Prussian occupation. The future was wrapped in gloom, the present hideous with the perpetual sense of humiliation. In my own profession there was little or nothing doing; no marriage contracts, no transfer of lands If you would borrow there was no one to lend indeed. coin Was almost unknown among us. Our banker had fled to Paris, and was there shut up; and those who had money buried it in the ground. You will remember, Pottier," turning to one of his guests ''the circumstances under which I confded to you the whereabouts of my own strong box"
 M Pottier nodded gravely, and held out his hand to the notary who pressed it warmly.
 Like many others in those days of sadness" went on M Brunei, "I took refuge from the contemplation of my country's misfortunes in the pursuit of studies, partially suspended from the pressure of more urgent business. began to prepare a long delayed monograph on the geological structure of the basin of the Lower Seine for our local society. 1 doubted very much whether our society would ever meet again. 1 thought it most improbable that my paper would ever see the light, but 1 went on blindy, hopelessly, but still on. Two young Prussian officers were quartered on me they might have been Bavarians, but they are all Prussians to me-and as individuals had nothing to complain of in them. They spoke our language fuently enough, although with vile accent, and they made themselves very merry with Rosalie and Susette, my ser wants. Me they left alone to my studies and my gloomy thoughts, These thoughts were made gloomier still by anxiety as to the fate of my younger brother, my only living relative. Ernest was almost son to me as we'll as a brother. A well-loved mother on her death- bed had conided him to my charge. He had just completed his studies, and was about to become an avocat, and he was already affianc- ed to Mademoiselle Therese, the charming essaiy notices had been given at the marie for their marriage, when the progress of the Prus- sians necessitated a postponement. had pur- chased substitute for him Tn the ranks ot the Army-a thing permitted in those days-but he had thrown in his lot with those who were fighting for their country, and madly, as thought, had joined one of those irregular bands of franc -tireurs who, to say the truth, were almost as formidable to their countrymen as to their fees Not word had come to me from him for many weeks.
 'sThe Winter was frightfully cold you may remember. and the river was almost covered with ice-ice in huge masses, that went up and down with the tide, jarring and clashing to- gether dismally. Never such desolate scene as then upon our quay. Not sail upon the river, not boat could venture out, nor were there any faces in the street, unless under picklehaube. 1 sat one night in my library, working away at my manuscript, cOnsoled little by the reflection suggested by my sub- feet, that, after all, the troubles of the human race were the merest trfles in ncomparison with the great cyclic changes was now studying. Everything was quite still except the measur- ed tread of a sentry outside.
 ''1t jared sadly upon me, that solid martial tread, reminding me that there was DO escape anywhere from a sense of the invaders pres ence, The step approached, the step died away in the distance, with measured swing like the beat of a pendulum and then when the pendulum had reached it's farthest limit, I heard low tap at my library window, low tap, such as my brother used to give when, coming home late, he would find the house locked up and every light but mine extlnguish- ed.
 ''I opened the window and looked out. Nothing was to be seen but fog, in which the feeble rays of the street-lamp at the corner
 
 feeling of trouble and depression came over me. My philosophy was at fault for once. could not escape the influence of hitherto des- pissed superstition. Perhaps he was dead, my brother, and thinking of me at his last mo- ment, had sent me this message. 1 peered in- to the formless void without, in vague expec- tation of knew not what. Memories of the past came back to me: the bitter thought of what is passed forever, hopelessly bitter to the lonely childless man.
 ''Have you all that you want tonight, Sir? ?" said voice at the door. It was my tall awk- ward bonne, Susette. I had sent her hours before to the house of my friend Pettier to borrow book I wanted, but had forgotten all about her and her mission till she now burst in. dreaded the presence of that young woman in my library as 1 should have dreaded the invasion of Cherokee or q Uhlap.
 Nothing! want nothing-away I cried angrily; but the girl continued to advance awkwardly across the room, knocking over pile of books here, and there putting a clumsy foot into the middle of my most cherished manuscripts.
 "Will you begone ?" reiterated in rage and almost terror, as my hand was seized and pressed and then the supposed Susette threw back her hood and revealed the closely-crop ed head, and dark flashing eyes of Er- nest-of my brother.
 when the hrst greeting was ever--Joyous, but subdued by the sense of danger-I began to reproach Ernest for coming to me in this unworthy disguise. Detection would be fol- lowed by instant military execution 7 there would be nc hope for one thus almost self confessed spy.
 "I know, said Ernest gaily but could reach you in no other way. There is less risk for me than another, as I am already doomed to the fusllade when caught in my capacity of franc-tireur; but they have to catch me first. -t' ss'"s=f5t ' 3At
 II urged him to go at ence and resume his proper hablliments. There were some in his own room that was kept always prepared for him. Let him not lose an instant; the danger was frightful and imminent. In hisreal char acter, as my brother, could easily account for his presence; and who was there to itenti- fy him as the franc -tireur? Safety on one slde.and imminent death on the other, why did he hesitate? ..s
 Let us talk little, my brother said Err