Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-11-22
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cent, the '(ommIs>llrt anu doctor WHO
had come with him. were the only people
who went into the room. My master told
me to stand at the door. and not to let any
one get in | had to wait a long while.
When those three came out of the room,
NJ. Doucet was rs pale as ghost. He
took me aside and said Il trust that you,
an old servant of the house, will not talk. II
would damage the reputation of the hotel.
promised 20 be silent, and up to this
moment have not opened my lips about
it to a single soul, nor will do so again.
But you were an old friend of NJ. Tisson
and ought to know the truth. A little lat
er the doctor returned with an assistant.
They locked themselves into the room
where the desa body was lying, and re-
manned there about an hour. Late at night
so as not To alarm the other visitors, the
coffin was brought quietly into the house.
The next morning NJ. Tisson's relations
arrived. They asked TO see the body, and
! followed them into the little drawing
room where it was laid out The features
of the dead man were no. distorted, they
were yellow as wax. Round the neck
was placed broad white cravat, which
reached up almost to his ears. ielt a
cold shudder when saw it. | told NJ.
Doucet, in whisper that it looked very
horrible. He made me a sign to be silent
and seemed to be very agitated. It's my
opinion, sir, that NJ Tisson laid violent
hands upon himself, and
Coste turned deadly pale. staggered
back, and sank into chair. The waiter
sprinkled cold water on his face and gave
him something to drink. When he had
recovered from the shock, the man en-
treated him once more not to betray him,
and then quietly left the room.
A few days later Colonel Coste returned
to Montpelier, but only to superintend
the removal of his simple furniture and
belongings to Paris, where he settled in a
remote part of the town at no great dis
lance from the cemetery where Tisson was
buried. He lived there for year in sad.
ness and solitude. Then his health began
to fail, and at the end of few weeks he
was confined TO his bed. The doctor adj
vised him to take Sister of Charity as a
sick-nurse, as he had no relation or friend
to take care of him. Coste assented to
everything. The nurse came and per-
formed her duties carefully. She was a
strong young woman, with q smooth. calm
face, fair, with rosy cheeks-a face that
looked as if il belonged to one pure in
body and mind. She nursed the lonely.
helpless old man carefully. unwearyingly,
without anxiety and without hope, as she
had nursed for years many other sick and
dying people.
HE is getting weaker and weaker"
she said one day to the doctor. ''IIe does
not know me now"
The Colonel lay on his bed, with half
closed eyes, breathing feebly. The doc
tor felt the pulse, forhead and heart of his
patient, and said, while slowly drawing
on his gloves:
II do not think he will hold out through
the day. will look in again tonight;
In the meantime you may go on with the
medicine prescribed Yesterday
The Sister nodded, and, when the doc
tor was gone. took up some needlework,
with which she busted herself whenever
the patient did not require her attendance.
The day passed quietly, without any
perceptible change in the state OF the dy-
ing man. When it grew dark the sister
left the room noiselessly to fetch lighted
lamp. The door had remained aiar.
From the next room she thought she
heard the patient speak. and hurried back
to his bedside. He had raised himself
from his pillows, and his face, which she
could not well distinguish in the dim twi-
light, seemed to her to have grown
younger. His eyes, which during the
whole day had remained halfclosed, were
now wide open, and looked kindly and
peacefully around. That indescribably
sweet smile with which so many weary
ones greet the approach of ace-bringing
death lighted up his countenance.
1T is getting dark" he whispered.
'Wait for me, Isidore; we will go home
together
He fell back on the pillow His breath
ing became slower--slower and fainter
then ceased
The sister remained for few moments
perfectly still. She then left the room,
and soon returned with the lighted lamp.
Sse raised it above the head of the dead
man, SO that the bright light fell npon his
pale, emaciated and calm features. She
looked at him attentively, without tender
ness. without sorrow or, indeed, any visi-
BILE sign of emotion, turned quietly away,
and after placing the lamp on the table.
returned to close the eyes OF the departed.
In the same methodical way she smoothed
the pillow and placed the quiet head care
fully and gently upon it, drew the sheet
up to the chin of the dead man, and placed
a crucifix in the cold hands, after having
folded them above the counterpane. Then
she lighted two candles, and placed one
at the head and the other atthe foot OF the
bed. Lastly, she took small bottle and
poured the holy water which it contained
into saucer, already prepared for the
purpose, which stood by the bedside.
When she had attended to all this without
hurry. as without hesitation, she looked
around as If to see if anything else re-
manned to be done. Her calm, searching
glance surveyed with the same serious
composure the corpse. the tapers, the
crucifix. the saucer with the holy water:
and when she had satisfied herself that
nothing had been omitted, and that every
thing was in perfect order, she drew from
her pocket little, well-wom, black book,
opened il with unerring hand at an accus-
toned place, knelt down, made the sign of
the cross. and her silent, moving lips re-
cited the prayers for the dead. Black-
wood's Magazine.
State Npus