The National tribune., 1881-10-01
THE TRAGEDY OF THE MARSH.
FROM THE FRENCH OF o. LEMAN.

tell the tale as twas told to me by Noel
keeper of the pastures, one day when was duck
hunting on the marshes of ST. Georges. We had
beaten the princes enclosure, Dick in advance
nose to the wind; Noel bringing up the rear
with my game-bag-which, alas! was not heavy
ON his shoulder. The MONDAY sun fell perpen-
dicularly upon our heads; the mosquitoes swarmed
about us by thousands, first making their pres
ence known by sounding a charge in our ears.
The Sene-a long ribbon that unrolled itself in
its passage around the hilside-glistened like a
mirror before our eyes. On the opposite bank
Quilleb9uf, with its quay grown green through
long and intimate contact with the marsh, its
slate roofs scattered pellmell around the old
church, and its white lighthouse, like an advance
guard, stood upright at the foot of the pier.
We were approaching the rushes with gun half
cooked and ear strained to catch the faintest
sound. Suddenly detected rustling among
the reeds.
"Hist!" whispered Noel; watch attentively,
but be in no haste" Thereupon, to my astonish-
ment he seized without ceremony the fowling-
piece with which I had taken aim, "For Gods
sake, do not fire! 1t is crazy Jeanne!"
Through the tall grasses, which prevented my
clearly discerning the object, I now perceived a
white shadow reflected in the rippling waters.
Soon fantastic figure appeared on the other side
of the rushes 1t was that of a still youthful
woman, pale and emaciated, whose eyes glittered
with that restless, lurd light which marks the
prey Of consuming fever. Hanging loosely from
her waist was a skirt that had been originally
white, but was now bedraggled and stained with
Cbo lor
shawl, while on her head, entangled in her heavy
hair, was bridal wreath-crushed and torn and
matted with grasses. She paused to gaze at u.s.
took few steps forward with both arms extended,
then paused anew. For an instant she stood
thus, with fixed gaze, as mOti5nless as a statue;
then gave utterance to a strange cry, half sob,
which awakened from its revery and put to
flight huge heron that was summing itself in a
neighboring field.
"Come, be still, silly one," said Noel in his
harsh, rough voice, at the sound of which the
poor girl gathered up her skirt with both hands,
and pursued her erratic course toward Saint
Georges.
We seated ourselves on neighboring hillocl
in the immediate vicinity, under the shade Of the
silvery willows, and, at my request, after having
keeper began his narrative, to the hoarse accom-
paniment furnished gratis by the frogs from out
the ditch.
Jeanne's father (said Noel is the host of the
inn where you are now staying. Previous to her
misfortune, Jeanne was universally conceded to
be the belle of the country hereabout; nor was
there within radius of ten leagues an inn more
frequented than was that of Pere Simon. The
line of carriages drawn up in the courtyard Sun
day after Sunday throughout the summer was
sight worth seeing CalaSheS and omnibusses
from Havre, conveying thither gay parties at
tracted to the inn by the fame of its matelote:
hunters equipages, with their liveried coachmen
to say nothing of travellers gigs Of every descrip-
tiOn, and heavy farm wagons, whose horses
stopped of their own accord before the door
Jeanne was the life and soul OF the house In
the salon, where the villagers were wont to as
semble in friendly converse over cup of coffee
or glass of wine; in the Kitchen where all abso-
lutely glittered in its cleanliness; in the cellar
filled to repletion with barrels of cider and rows
of wine bottles; in short, everywhere her snowy
cap was visible. She was ever On the alert that
nothing might escape her eye or her ready wit,
and was always ready to laugh at good joke,
which no one could better appreciate than herself
Pere Simon, seated at his counter in the midst
of many-hued bottles gathered in the earnings
that cost him nothing but the trouble of clinking
glasses with his guests.
To a pretty girl with large dot suitors, as a
rule, are not wanting, nor would they have been
to Jeanne but for the fact that every one was
aware that her hand was already promised to
Raymond La Thiele, the son of neighboring
farmer. They had grown up together, and long
before either party of an age to think of love
it was understood thing that they were to be
married as soon as Raymond should return from
the service
Would-be-lovers were not slow to recognize in
their successful rival man Of powerful frame,
whose jealous disposition made itself known,
Hyhen excited by anger, in the weight of his fist.
MOreOver-this the most effectual preventive
against counter-claims father-in-law elect
was possessed of thirty acres of sunny land to say
nothing of the finest pasturage in the country.
The farm is just above the inn. You can see it