The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1885-03-07


going by this evenings coach. 1 will
write when l get to London"
had my revenge in full. The good
old soul ALMOST fell weeping at my feet.
"Oh, Master Gilbert, don tee, don'tee
go, sir! That poor young lady, Miss
Pauline, what will she dop She loves
the very ground you tread upon"
/ had bargained for reproaches, not
sentiment of this kind. 1 laid my hand
upon her shoulder.
but Priscilla, Miss Pauline-Mrs.
Vaughan, my wife, goes with me-"
Priscilla's tears came more copiously
than before, but they were tears of joy.
Ten days later and Pauline stood be-
side her brothers grave. BY her own
wish she visited it alone. waited at
the gate of the cemetery until she re-
joined me. Her face was very pale, her
eyes showed traces Of many tears, but she
smiled as she met my anxious glance.
Colbert, my husband" she said.
81 have wept, but now l smile. The
past is past. Let its darkness be dis
persed by the brightness of the present
and the promise of the future. Let the
love l bore my brother be carried into
the greater love l give my husband.
Let us turn our backs on the dark shad-
ows and begin our lives"
Have | more to tell? One thing only.
Years afterward was in Paris. The
great war had been fought out to the
bitter end. Traces of the conflict be-
tween the two races had almost van
ished, but those of the second and inter-
necine contest were visible everywhere.
The Gaul himself had destroyed what
the Teuton spared. The Tuileries, with
sightless, empty eyes, gazed sadly to-
ward the Place de la Concorde, where
stood the statues of the fair lost prov
inces. The Vendome column lay pros
trate. The fair city was charred and
blackened by the incendiary torches of
her own sons; but the flames had been
some time extinguished and ample re-
venge had been taken. A gay young
officer, friend of mine, took me to see
a military prison. We were chatting
and smoking in the open air when a
small body of soldiers appeared. They
were escorting three men, who walked
with fettered hands and bowed heads.
"Who are theyP" l asked.
"Blackguard Communists.
Where are they taking them?"
The Frenchman shrugged his shoui-
ders. "Where they ought all to be
taken-to be shot, the brutes"
Brutes or not, three men who have
but minute to live must be objects of
interest if not sympathy. Hooked close
ly at them as they passed us. One OF
them raised his head and stared me in
the face. 1t was Macari!
started as his eyes met mine, but
am not ashamed to say the movement
was caused by no feeling of compassion.
Ceneri, in spite of myself, l pitied, and
would have aided had it been possible
but this ruf1ian, liar and traitor should
have gone to his doom even if could
have saved him by lifting finger. HI
| had passed long ago out of my life, bu
my blood still boiled when thought o
him and his crimes. knew not how
he had lived since last saw him-knev
not whom or how many he had be
trayed; but if Justice had been slow il
claiming him. her sword had at las
reached him and his end was close a
hand.
He knew me-perhaps he thought
had come there to gloat over his pun
ishment. A look of bitter hate crossed
his face. He stopped and cursed me
The guard forced him on. He turned
his head and cursed me until one of thu
soldiers smote him in the mouth. Thu
action may have been cruel, but Their
| was little mercy shown to Communist
| in those days. The guard and thei
: prisoners turned round an angle of TIN
building.
"Shall we see the end?" said m,
S friend, Tipping the ash off his cigar
| "No, thank you"
| But we heard it. In ten minutes the
rattle of rifles sounded, and | knew
{ that the last and guiltiest of Anthony
. March's murderers had found his de
: serts.
remembered my promise to Ceneri
| With great trouble l managed to get
y message sent which l believed woul
reach him. Six months afterward
i letter stamped with hieroglyphical post
marks was delivered to me. 1t toll
). me that the prisoner to whom | ha
n written had died two years after his al
rival at the mines, So the lesser Grim
q inal had not the satisfaction of KNOWN
!, the fate Of the man who had betraye
I him.
MY tale is told. My life and Pauline
10 began when we turned from that GENE
= terry and resolved to forget the past
4 Since then our joys and griefs hav
II been the same as those of thousand!
i AS write this in my happy countr
- y house, blessed with wife and children
- | wonder if l could ever have been this
2 blind man who heard those fearfr
- sounds and who saw afterward that tel
a rible sight. Could it have been l VIII
% rushed from one end of Europe t
= the other to set at rest a doubt which
= blush at even harboring? Could
a have been Pauline, whose eyes no.
| 81 I'll xrvl