The Pioche weekly record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1877-1900, 1879-01-25
A TRAITORS END.

There was day when Talleyrand ar
rived in Havre, in grs at haste from Paris.
Ii was in the darkest hour Of the French
Revolution. Pursued by the blood
hounds Of the Reign of Terror, stripped
of every wreck of property or power,
Talleyrund secured II passage to America
in u ship ABOUT to sail. He was going a
bsggar ana wanderer to strange land,
to caro- his bread by his daily labor.
d" Is there n American staying at your
house," ne asked the landlord of his
hotel am bound to cross the water,
aud would like letter to some person OF
inf uencs in the Nrw World"
The landlord hesitated moment. and
then replied:
" There ls gentleman up stairs, either
from America or Britain; but whether
an American or Euglishmsn / cannot
tell"
He pointed the way, aud Talleyrand, +,
who in early ':fe was Bishop, Prince, and
afterward a Prime Minister, ascended
the stairs. A miserable suppliant, he
stood before the stranger s door. knocked
and entered.
In the far corner Of the dimly- Lighted
room sat gentleman of some fifty years,
his arms folded and his head bowed on
his breast. From q window directly op.
posite a food of light poured Over his
forehead. His eyes. looking from be.
meath the dowhcast brows. gazed in Tai
leyrand's face with a pecu lar and search
ing expression. HIS face was striking
in it's outline. the mouth and chin indi-
cative OF an iron will. His form, vigcr-
Gus. even with the SHOWS of fifty winters,
was clad In a dark but rich aud distin-
guish d costume.
Taleyrand advanced. stated that he
Was fugitive, and, under the lmpr+s.
sion that the gentleman before him was
an American, he solicited his kind feel
ings aud offices, pouring forth his his
tory in elegant French and broken En-.
gllsh.
~ am wanderer-an exile! I am
forced to fly to the New World, without
friend or nope. You are an American
Give me. b. seech you letter OF yours,
80 tnat l may be able to earn my bread
am willing to toll in any manner. The
scenes of Paris have filed me with such
horrors that life Of labor would be q
paradise to career of luxury in France.
You will give me letter to one of your
friends. A gentleman like you has
doubtless many friends"
The strange gentleman rose. With 9
look that Talleyrand never forgot, be
retreated toward the door of the nexl
chamber, his head still downcast, HI.
eyes looking still from behind his dark
ened brow. He spoke as he retreatec
backward his voice was full of meaning
am the only man born IN the N v
WcTld Tno can raise ais hand to u c
aud say, have not frlead, not one, II
all Amer!cG!'
TaileyraDd never forgot the overwhelm
Ing ssanees OF the look that accompanied
these ~oIds.
WHO are your" he cried, as tn,
strange gentleman retreated toward tn,
next room. Your pamr?"
"My nameP' with smile that hat
more OF mockery than Joy in its convul
sive expresslon--" My name is Benedic
Arnoiu9"
He was gone. Talleyrand sank in
chair, gtsptig 9 the words:
"Arnod the traitor! one who has b.
trayed bis conntryp
Thus Arnotd wand red over the earth
another Oain, with u wand -rer's marx o
his brow. Even in the secluded room
at that lnn OF II ,vre, his crime touu
hun out and forced hum TO tell his nam
that name the synonym OF infamy.
Inc last twenty years of Arnold's lif
were covered with cloud from who's
darkness but few CLEANS of light flas
out upon the page OF history.