Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1888-04-29
LOST IN THE SNOW.

iron knocker and brought it down with al
his strength upon the panel OF the door. The
! sound rolled and reverberated through the
corridors, repeated by the echo, until at last,
growing fainter and fainter, IL died away al
together. A light almost Immediately SD
peared behind tie glasses of the lower story,
and hoarse voice cried through the vicksts:
"Who goes therel Who dares 70 knock sc
such an hourF
1T isn't you want, Demoiselie victoire, /.
the applicant responded, evidently accus-
toned TO these b-usque receptions.
At this moment the window above them
opened and the venerable figure OF the cure
Of Montcernin leaned from the easement
What do you want, Favell7 he asked in
astouishment.
/ But the DemoiseIle victoire had already
turned the key in the lock, and the visitor.
I having entered, was ushered at once into the
1 parsonage kitchen. where the embers OF a frs
! on the hearth still gave out gentle warmth.
( In the chamber above the cure was putting
on his wadded coat aud caSsock preparatory
! to coming down
( The Able Brock, cure of Montcernin, was
I a man perhaps 60 years of age, tail of stature,
muscular OF limb, and with an appearance Of
rugged health and strength Fer more than
( thirty years he had governed ard directed
this poor little parish OF 300 or 500 inhabi-
tants, situated upon one Of the highest
piateaus OF the Savoyardes Alps.
| But how did you come, Antoine, my boyr'
| said the able, afectionately; ''ssat yourself
+ and drink glass of eau de vie; then tell me
/ what brought you here so late, or rather so
early, for it was after midnight when went
+ to bed Speak, my good Antoine, tell Us
your Grand
/ Il have come from Argues, NJ le Cure
! Favel replied, 'and ali on the run / started
at nightfall, but it IS far and there is so much
snow"
is any one sick at Aygues," interrupted
the cure.
@Alas, yes; perhaps by now be is dead He
was taken Ill suddenly last night, and was I'M
conscious when left. l came 70 oblige his
wife; she was afraid to have him die without
confession"
"Quick, cried the cure; give me MY boots
and my mantle; may arrive too late"
SYou cannot go, IL le Cure, you cannot
CO." declared Victoire stoutly; nevertheless,
she FASTENED to gather up the articles de-
Inanded, bringing her master an old hat re
served for such occasions, heavy wooden
cloak and pair Of thick leather boots
you've forgotten the cold, N. lie Cure, and
the snow she persisted; at is two feet deep,
at least"
@Four feet" said Antoine; "there isn't the
slightest trace OF the road and the Black
brook is running out Of its banks"
"You haven't told me who IL is that h
dying" said the cure. suddenly addressing the
messenger.
"Demetrius,r replied the peasant, turning a
timid and questioning look upon the face of
the old man.
"DemetFius Blanc!" shouted Victoire In a
rage and lifting her arms toward the ceiling;
shat worthless scapegrace, that good for
nothing scamp; he hasn't set foot in church
since he returned from Paris. WIN you go 20
him, NJ. lie Cure, who never bows 70 the
cross, who whistles the procession passes;
who drinks like fish and mocks at every
thing; surely, NJ le Cure, you won't 60 to
him" Thereupon the worthy bonne busted
herself in warming the thick WOODEN over
socks and the rabbitskin gloves. while her
master drew on his boots. "A man. she con-
tinued, who has insulted you lower than the
ground, and who would have beaten you but
for Antoine herei7
The cure paid no attention 70 her grum-
bling, however, but got up when he had
finished his preparations and started to go
out
Come. my boy, You will have to go with
me-" said be. The clerk Is too old and too
feeble, be couldn't go hundred yards in this
snow. 1t is a work Of charity whish heaven
always remembers
Pardon me. NJ lie Cure cried Favel, re-
proachfuly, did you think ! would stay
here If dozen clerks could 90 while you were
exposedr
Then farewell, Victoire, and don't forget
TO send in the morning bowl Of bouillon and
q bottle Of wine TO the wife Of Pierre JAG
Ques, and say prayer, my girl, for the poor
Denetrius," Saying this, the cure opened
the door and went out into the cold and the
snow. The modest little church Of the village
stood upon knoll just above the cures
dwelling. Unlocking the door. they entered
the building, Antoine holding the lantern,
and took up the little vase and the silver YES
sci containing the holy oil, which the old
priest placed IN his velvet bag. carefully fast
ening it about bis neck. Antoine carried the
prayer book and the bell
1t took two hours In ordinary times 70 20
from the church 20 Aygues. but IN weather
like this more than twice as long. II was toe
week before Christmas, and the oldest inhab-
it1nts, accustomed as they were 20 the hard
ships Of life On the Alps, had never seen a
winter as terrible as thh Argues was q
miserable hamlet CT three or four novels.
lying in the bottom Of q ravins between two
great mountains To reach il IL was neces-
sary to climb The precipitoas s1e OF tie
mountain, cross over the top, and descsnd
By a narrow path 70 The reyins below, az the
bottom Of which foaped rushing torrent
/; was one Of those terrible nights known
only 20 the Alpine winter. A freezing cold
unclaimed al nature. The sky was Ct q
leaden gray and a carpet of untroddsn snow
extended ss far Is the eye could reach. Pro
found silence rested upon everything
The Abbs Brock and his guide walked
On, scattering TIE snow with their long
ing ,ev .eehls rays CT lixht upon the
ground before them Az Trey walked slo1g
the good priest lagrn1ured his prayers, wills
Antoine thoughtouly Of rs CO.'S, his stable
and the wheat tat flied his grsasry. Eei-
ther the priest nor the peasant sss=Ded 70 feed
fatigue hey moved qEicxly On, ttsar syss
fixed upon tie csrcis OK ESh. east by tie ls--
tern upon Tie STOW.
Little BY Little, however. a white bead
stood upon TIER brows, thar breathing be-
cam. hurried sad they zaiket WITH less
rapidly The Lantern swung loss firmly Ia
TIE hand Of ADso4re, and from time - tine
tie cd priest stopp~i 20 rest rsoueE: and
70 say aIoz5 y-sy-.
They ssd nor been climbing ths mountain
for mare than tro boerz, IN; were stil far
from tseir 5ourDeyS end: nevertheless, 10y