The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1888-04-19
THE WIDOW OF ACnuLD.

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THE WIDOW OF A CHILD.
1t was during the hunting season at
the Chateau de Banneville. The autumn
had been rainy and gloomy. The red
leaves, instead of rustling beneath the
| feet, rotted in the burrows under the
heavy showers.
The we'll nigh naked forest was as
damp as a bathing establishment. As
the hunter entered it and trudged along
over the wet grass and soggy soil under
the great storm beaten trees he found
himself enveloped by a noisome vapor
with musty smell His dogs also
seemed affected by the wretched weather,
so detected did they look, as, with droop-
ing tails and reeking skins, they trotted
along close behind his heels.
In the main parlor after dinner we had
been playing lotto to kill time, while
gusts of wind ratified the windows and
on the outside made the old weathercocks
spin like tops Finding but little pleas
ure in the game we tried our hands at
story telling, just as people are said to do
in books, but no one invented anything
amusing. The hunters related adven
IuICb tudG u6O OCCuIIcu w LucIu Willie
out shooting-massacres of rabits, while
the ladies racked their brains in futile at
tempts to discover Scheherazade's inspi-
ration.
We were on the point of giving up
this species Of entertainment also when
young lady, thoughtlessly toying with
the hand of her maiden aunt noticed on
one of the old lady's fingers small ring
made of light hair She had frequently
seen this trinket, but had never before
paid any attention to it.
As she gently turned the ring around
her aunt's finger she asked:
"By the by, auntie, what ring is this :?
1t looks like the hair OF a child"
The old maid blushed, became pale,
then, with a faltering voice, she said:
"It is so sad story that l never like
to speak of it. 1t was the one great mis-
fortune of my life. l was quite young
when it all happened, and yet the men,
ory of it is SO painful that l still shed
tears whenever think about it."
As matter of course all wanted to
hear the story. The old maid at first
refused to tell it, but finally she yielded
to our solicitations, and began as follows:
You have often heard tell Of the San
teze family 1t is now extinct, but l was
acquainted with the three last men of
that race. They all died the same death.
This ring is the hair of the last one.
He was thirteen years old when he killed
himself on my account. That seems
very strange to you, does it not2
Oh, they were singular race, insane
if you wish, but the most charming luna
tics, crazed by love. All, from father to
son, were prey to violent passions; to
great impulses, which made them enthu-
siastic in all they undertook, to such an
extent, that they would not have hesita-
ted at a crime. In them this passion
was what ardent devotion is in certain
minds. Those who become Trappists
are not Of the same nature as our draw
ing room butterflies. In our family we
used to say In love like Santeze."
They all had curly hair and beard and
large eyes, the light of which seemed to
penetrate and disturb ones soul, though
it would have been hard to say why.
The grand father of the one of whom
this is the cnly souvenir have, after
many adventures and duels, at the age of
e5 fell blindly in love with his farmers
daughter. / knew both of Them. She
was pale blonde, ola distinguished ap.
pearance, with a soft voice, and so gentle
q look that she seemed Madonna. The
old nobleman took her to his house, and
became SO attached to her that he could
not be happy minute unless he was in
her company. His daughter and step
daughter, who lived in the chateau with
him, found this quite natural, 80 tradi-
tional had love become in the family.
Nothing surprised them if passion had
ANYTHING to do with the case, and if they
happend to hear of broken ties, Of parted
lovers, even of revenge being taken after
betrayal, they both would say in the
same afflicted voice: "Oh! how he Tor
she) must have suffered" Nothing else.
They only grew tender over dramas of
the heart, and never displayed any ill
telling, even when these dramas culmi-
mated in crime,
Well. one autumn M. de Gradelle, a
Young man who had been invited to take
part in the chase, went Of, taking the
young girl with him.
Mr.. De Santeze remained perfectly cool
as if nothing had happened but . few
mornings after he was found in his dog
kennel, hanging amidst his dogs.
His son died in the same way at hotel
in Paris. While spending some time in
that city in 1s4l he became enamored of
an opera singer. As the lady did not re-
turn his love he hanged himself.
He left behind him son IL years old
and widow, my mothers sister, They
came to live with us, at my fathers place
ut Bertillon. ] was at the time II years
Of age.
You cannot imagine what remarkably
precocious child this little Santeze was. 1t
looked as if all the tenderness, all the en-
thusiasm of the whole race had fallen to
this one, the last of the name. He always
seemed to be in dream, and for hours
he would walk all alone in the long ave-
nue. of elm trees which leads from the
chateau 20 the woods. From my window
| I would notice the sentimental lad STEP
ping grsvely along, bis hands behind his
back, his eyes cast down, now and then
stopping 70 look up, - If he saw and nm
derstoed and felt things that were beyond
his years.
Often, after dinner, on moonlit nights,
q Ia