The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1885-10-01


1t was a rough winters night A
slight sou'wester had been blowing all
day long; but since the sun had gone
down and it had grown dark, heavy gusts
fell boisterously up and down the narrow
old streets of Marseilles, as though they
had lost their way. Many of the prin-
cipal thoroughfares appeared compare.
lively deserted, as if the storm had
driven most people home Those who
yet remained out doors seemed to be
bent upon reaching their domiciles with
all possible speed. There was one soli-
tary exception-a tall, powerfully built
man; and upon him a gust of wind had
little more effect than upon a solid rock.
Enveloped in thick black cloak, with a
military cap drawn down tightly over
his forehead, he walked along at slow,
| measured step. He never once turned his
head, even when the wind cast a stinging
splash of rain full in his face He was so
erect, and strobe forward in such a
steady maner, that one would have
supposed the weather absent from his
thoughts. When he reached the quay
he crossed the road and stepped along
the gangway 80 close to the edge of the
basin that by stretching out his hand he
could have touched the rigging OF the
large vessel as he passed. The danger,
even in broad daylight, when walking so
close to the edge, would have been great (;
but upon this pitch-dark, windy night, a
false step meant certain death in the
dock below
Presently small boat, dimly visible
by the light from the lantern attached to
the bow came slowly toward landing
place several yards ahead. When the
boat touched the wall of the basin the
man quickend his pace, and on reaching
the spot looked down and demanded i:
"Who goes there?"
"Prosper Cornillon," replied a voice
which appeared to come from figure in
the boat, that rese mbled a black shadow
in the darkness.
is your boat for hire?"
eyes, monsieur"
There was a short pause. Then the
stranger, with sompcon of command in
his tone, said: 81 shall want you to-
night, but not yet"
The boatman having meanwhile made
fast his boat, took the lantern out of the
bow and climbed slowly up the steep
wooden steps.
"Does the Cafe Cornillon, or this
quay, belong to you p
at is mine and my SISTERS" Prosper
replied.
"That is lucky" said the stranger, in a
more cheerful voice: " will sup at your
cafe before we start"
Prosper Cornillon led the way, holding
the lantern so that the light was thrown
directly in their path.
The Cafe Cornillon stood in the centre
of a row of houses facing the quay. The
frontage was one large window with
small panes of glass, like conservatory.
Through the clean white muslin curtains
a light was shining which illumined a
limited space of the roadway. Stepping
forward Prosper held open the door of
the cafe for the stranger to enter 1t
was snug, unpretending little cafe !;
long, narrow and low-pitched, like a
cabin on board ship, with small wooden
tables and chairs arranged agsinst the
walls. Some half-dozen persons, who
looked like fishermen, were seated near
the window, drinking coffee and cognac,
and playing at dominoes. They glanced
up for a moment and returned the stran-
gers salute and then continued their
game. At the further end of the cafe
was an open hearth with fire burning
brightly in the centre near this hearth,
engaged in some culinary operations,
stood young girl. She turued when
the door opened, and an expression of
surprise mixed with curiosity gathered in
her face as the stranger advanced and po-
itely raised his cap.
Nina" said Prosper Cornillon, look
ing from the girl toward the customer,
"this gentleman has hired the boat, but
he wishes for little supper before start
ing"
The stranger nodded approvingly.
Before sunrise must be on board"
"The name of the ship, monsieur ?"
asked Prosper, stroking his dark beard,
and looking with keen eyes into the
strangers face.
"The Livadia"
The girl looked up with distant,
dreamy expression in her eyes. "That
ship" said she, as though speaking her
thoughts aloud, rather than addressing
herself to any one, that ship is bound
for some Greek port"
"For Syra," said the stranger, prompt
ly, while at the same time he removed
his cloak and sat down at table near
the hearth.
Prosper Cornillon turned away and
Joined the fishermen at the other end of
the cafe. Like true cafetier he was
soon laughing with the customers, taking
a hand at the dominoes, and calling to his
sister Nina to serve him, as though he
were a customer, too.
Meanwhile, the stranger sat in silence,
waiting for his supper, with his back
against the wall, and his legs stretched
out toward the fire. He was dressed in
the uniform of French Cololel, though
only a man of twenty eight or thirty at
the utmost. He had handsome, express
sive face, his eyes frequently Frightening
at some passing thought. But when he
turned his glance upon Nina his look grew
serious and sympathetic.
Few could have resisted studying the
face of Nina Cornillon, not merely on
account of its beauty, but because some
trouble. sustained with brave resolution,
was portrayed in every feature. That
dreaminess in the eyes, already referred
tn. which seemed to indicate that her