Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1883-04-13
TEE SECRET OF THE CHATEAU.
4 Tale of ti,c French Revolution.

It was in the days of the French revo-
luton, when the reign of the Goddess of
Liberty had closed all the churches and
stopped every outward religious form,
and when the Reign Of Terror was at its
height in the land The little town of
ycrreyille, in the south Of France, lay
all wrapped in glory of evening sun
slime that wrought rare magic among the
dingv houses and in the drowsy streets
and alleys. Now it played golden jokes
with the fountain that danced i'll a broken
basin in the little square ; now 1t clothed
with new, wondrous, picturesque charm
the gable Of yonder old decaying man
sion now it gided into small gloomy
back court and turned it into n fairy S
grotto by changing every pane OF glass
i'll the tiny windows rcrnd it into Il living
gem.
Up the principal street Of the town
came numbering n cart bearing sad bur-
den 1t WAS coffin, over which was
spread coarse, shabby black mantle by
way of IL pail At each side Of the heavy
cart horse which drew the vehicle walked
a dark-robcd tigurC-s man and woman.
Slowly the little funeral party advanced
over the rough pavement, that made the
wheels of the cart Jolt noisily, and with
20 reverent sound Of woe. Slowly on
they came through the river of sunlight ;
and, as they went, two or three women,
lettering with their pitchers near the
fountain, watched them with eyes which
had touch of sorrow in them, and made
their comments, as they gazed, in low
tones:
"Ah, poor young lady !" said the Oldest
of the group. "Shes the last of them
the very last. recoliect the coming
home of her mother, Madame Ia Com
tesse, MS bride, and all the train of lack
eys in gold lace, and the prancing of the
six gray horses, and the cheering of the
crowd as she threw silver pieces among
them like rain in autumn. And now, to
think that this should be the funeral OF
her daughter. | have seen strange
changes in the land since l was your age,
Babette, my child.
Babotte tossed her head and the red
handkerchief upon it little disdainfully
as if her modern lights showed her things
which We're more worthy of note than
anything which the old woman's memory
could call up ont Of the past.
'What good we're they in the land
these aristocrats?' she cried. "They
Were of no more use than the statues il
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nmtbnr;tv and what n nrison ends ;n e.