Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1888-01-28
THE WIDOW OF A CHILD.

Chateau de Bonneville 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 well nigh naked forest was as damp
as 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 noisolne vapor with a musty smell.
His dogs also seemed affected by the
wretched weather, so detected did they
look, as, with dropping 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 nus little pleasure IN
the game we tried our hands at story tell
ing, just as people are said to do in books
but no one invented anything amusing
The hunters related adventures that had
occurred to them while out shooting
massacres of rabbits, while the ladies
racked their brains in futile attempts to
discover Scheherazade's inspiration.
We were on the point Of giving up this
species of entertainment also when q
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:
tiRv the hv anntia uhaf wing 10 thiSS
It looks like the hair of child"
The old maid blushed, became pale,
then, with faltering voice, she said:
at is SO sad story that never like to
speak of 1t. It was the one great misfor-
tune of my life. was quite young when
it all happened, and yet the memory Of it
is SO painful that still shed tears when
ever l 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 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
: to you, does it not?
Oh, they were singular race, insane, if
you wish. but the most charming lunatics,
crazed by love. All, from father to son,
were prey to violent passions; to great
impulses, which made them enthusiasts in
all they undertook, to such an extent, that
they would not have hesitated at crime.
In them this passion was what ardent de-
votion is in certain minds. Those who be-
come Trappists are not of the same nature
as our drawing room butterflies. In our
family we used to say: SIN love like San
teze'' 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 grandfather of the one of whom
this is the only souvenir l have, after
many adventures and duels, at the age OF
65 fell blindly in love with his farmers
daughter. I knew both of them. She
was pale blonde, of a distinguished ap-
pearance, with soft voice, and so gentle a
look that she seemedsa Madonna The old
nobleman took her to his house, and be-
came SO attached to her that he could not
be happy n minute unless he was In her
company. His daughter and step daugh-
ter, who lived in the chateau with him,
found this quite natural, so traditional
had love become in the family. Nothing
surprised them If passion had anything to
do with the case, and if they happened to
hear of broken ties, of parted lovers, even
of revenge being taken after a betrayal,
they both would say In the same afflicted
voice: sOhl how he Tor shel must have
suffered" Nothing else They only
grew tender over dramas of the heart,
and never displayed any i'll feeling, even
when these dramas eliminated in crime.
Well, one autumn NJ. de Gradelle, a
young man who had been invited to take
part in the chase, went off, 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 1641 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
at Bertillon. I was at the time IL 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 avenue of
elm trees which leads from the chateau to
the woods. From my window I would
notice the sentimental lad stepping
gravely along, his hands behind his back,
his eyes cast down, now and then stopping
to look up, as if he saw and understood
and felt things that were beyond his years.
Often, after dinner, on rnoonlit nights,
lie would say to me: "Come, cousin, let
us go out to musen And then we would
start out together through the park He
would stop abruptly in front of the glades
where foated that white vapor, that light
wadding with which the moon pads thu
opening between the treesI then he would
say to me, as he pressed my hand: "See
that, see. But you do not understand
me: | know you don't If you did, we
would be happy. One must love to un-
derstand' / would laugh and kiss the
child that was SO much attached to me-
Often, also, after dinner, he would sit
on my mothers knees. ''Now, aunty."
would he say, ''tell me some love stories. !"
And mother, for fun, would relate to him
all the legends of his family, all the pas
sionate adventures of his forefathers, and
of these there were not a few-thousands
and thousands of them were spoken OF,
true as well as false. 1t was the reputa-
ton of these men that destroyed them.
Their miEds would get worked up, and
then they Eloried in keeping up the family
fame
The little fellow would become ami
mated over these tender or terrible narra-
tives, and ut times he would clap his
hands as he would repeat over and over:
81, too, know how to love, and better
than any of them"
And then he began counting me in q
timid and tender manner that made every
body laugh, so odd did it seem. Every
morning / received bunch of flowers
that he had gathered for me, and every
night, before going up to his room, he
would kiss my hand and murmur: 81 love
your
l was wrong, very wrong, and / still
weep over my folly. All my life have
done penance on account of it, and have
--avr, n5,z IL