The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1879-07-12

gathered around, but their discourse wn,
| only OF the horrors of the siege.
One among Ninon's friends was missing
the quick eager tread of Armand dt
kochcc1ur sounded no more in Ninon'.
salon. That boyish form of the young Off
Ger, with his untarnished uniform and m
used sword, appeared no more among he,
guests. And when she found that he die
not come, Ninon beg al to miss him. Al
llrst She smiled ut hi, abstn. then il,scnsi
DIy she began to watch for his coming, an(
as the days passed one after another, Ninon
grew anxious. Sometimes she would 81,
alone in the twilight-the lonely little bar.
"ncss, rich in everything but lovc-and tho
sweet lips would murmlr, "At least he
loved me, le bcbcI" Then deep far-ofl
look would come into the brilliant eyes.
"Whcrc is the prince? ~
1t was the evening of the Goth of Novcm-
ber Ninon was sitting alone, watching
the slow motions of the hands of the clock
rs they pointed to eleven, when quick.
hurried tread sounded behind the chair, and
the canking of Il sword startled her.
"Armand!" she exclaimed as she turn
cd and encountered the excited glance of
the young soldier.
"Ycs, Ninon. At last Paris is reused.
Tomorrow there will be grand sortic.
The order has been given. With hundred
thousand men we shall leave Paris, march
upon Champigny-on to Viliers Ducrot
has sworn to rc-enter Paris only victorious
or dead" have come to say good-by.
Before tomorrow night Prussian ball or
bayonet may have quictcd forever the
heart that loves you 80 passionately. Kiss
me, Ninon; say God bless you'll"
Then he sank down at her feet, and laid
his head upon the little hands that rested on
her knee.
Ninon lifted the brown hair from the fair
young forehead; n moment her lips rested
there, and she murmurcd, "God bless you,
my Armand" Then lie pressed her for a
moment passionatcly against his heart, and
left her.
In the morning the troops were in motion.
Paris throngcd the streets and crowded the
windows on each side to watch the sad pro-
cession as it passed. Cheer after cheer rent
the air; "Vivc la FranceW ga In vic.
toire! sounded from the throats of the
lookcrs-on as the long dcflc wound its way
to the gates The well drilled men marched
silently along, their countenances grave and
severe They were about to make last
effort for Pars-f0r France. With stern
and set determination they moved forward,
looking neither to tho right nor left, lest til G
sorrowful faces Of the women they loved
Should unncrve their hearts and unsteady
thclr hands. After them followed the ar
tllIcry, the wagons loaded with provisions,
and-oh, sickening sight THE ambulanccs
that would convey so many of the brave
men, now leaving the city with buoyant
tread, back again within its walls. wounded,
holDlpSs 0nI ffptpo
~ At tt tic ' head tafR Of his company rode Armand
de Rochcc9ur. With head erect, and lips
firmly compressed to avoid their trembling,
he led his men past the windows of the
boulevard where Ninon dc Valcour stood
watching 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 90, steadily
she looked after his retrcating form. 4
soft mist cloudcd the flashing eyes, and as
the distance hid him from her view she
murm'red, gently, "Armand, God watch
over thee |"
All day long, that terrible 30th of No
vembcr the incessant roar of cannon echoed
back into the stiffness of the city's streets.
Paris held her breath in anguish. Her
best, her bravcst and her noblcst were
fighting for her dclivcrancc, in deadly peril,
just outside the city walls. Outside the
walls the sickening drama of battle, with
all the horrid accompaniment of tumult,
noise and bloodshed; inside, the no less
horrible torture Of suspense, as those left
behind waited with blanched faces and
batcd breath for news from the scene of
conflict.
Among the foremost in the strife on that
terrible morning rode the boyish officer,
Armand de Rochcc1ur. 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 to the plcbeian Bonapartes, of
the odionsrepublic, were all forgotten, when
for the first time he found himself face to
face with the foreign foe who dared to at
tack the very capital and strike at the heart
of his sacred land of France.
early IN the afternoon Champigny yield
cd to .he passionate attack of the fresh
French troops Amazed at their defeat,
the Germans fell back to recover from their
bcwildermcnt produced by this-almost
their first--rcvcrse. Then, ralying from
their surprise, reinforced with fresh troops
and protected by their batteries, they fell
upon the French with a sudden fury. Dis
mayed by the unexpected attack, weary
with a long days fighting, the half -disci-
plined French soldiery fell back. With a
wild feeling, half fury, half despair, Ar
mand 50 " tho line give way. "Cowards, "
he muttcred below his breath. Then turn
ing suddenly to his men, he cried: "Cour-
age! Will you go back to your women and
tell them you fled before Pr,lsslan guns2
On, on! Conquer or die like Frcnclmen!' u
Then he rode forward; but the terrified,
panic-strickcn men were deGf to his call,
and suffered him to 60 alone. With his
right arm uplifted he rushed toward the
Prussian line. With the cry still on his
lips, a fragment of a shell struck the pow.
crful right arm, shattered 1t as if 1t were the
rotten branch of a tree, and tore it's way
across the fair boyish forehead just above
the eyes. Prone on the earth lay the pow.
crfu form of the brave young officer. A
cry of admiration rose from the lips of tho
men behind him. They turned and fled
and left him to his fate