Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-07-07
CHAPTER V,


it appeared, when it came to the test of en-
must have been that the knowledge of
Pauline's presence and the thoughts en-
gendered by the probability that she was
witnessing the struggle somewhat distracted
the nerve Of Cortes. or il may have been the
persistence OF the dead man in lying there
in the sand in the line of his vision, for he
at last lost his guard and the quick point of
Doucet's sword pierced his breast. He
scarcely felt the wound, however, and
quickly springing back he recovered him.
self and made furious rush upon his an
tagonist.
1t was at this moment that Doucet's eyes
in some way caught glimpse of Pauline's
face as she stood in the low. dark doorway
of the cabin. The glance cost him dear
With the celerity Of light the Spaniard's s
blade found bloody sheath.
Out from the doorway sprang the young
girl, letting 60 short wall and holding up
her white arms as she flung herself between
the bleeding men. The Dona followed,
calling upon the Virgin and laying hold of
Cortes with a desperate energy.
1t was too late now to renew the fight for
loss of blood was making the limbs of
Cortes sink under him. He turned blind
and fell upon the sand pale and motionless
Pauline had but time to throw her arms
about her lover and call him by name whe6
he, too, sank down with the blood squirting
from his wound.
Bienville. accompanied by a number of
officers and squad of soldiers for body
guard, came along the street a little later
and found the two women nursing the heads
of the fallen men. He halted and made
some inquiries; then ordering a surgeon and
some attendants to remain and examine
further, he passed on, going to have a con-
ference with the Compile de Champmeslin.
Dona Hortense begged the surgeon to
order the bleeding men taken to her house.
She led the way, praying as she went.
along in the arms of q stalwart soldier. It
was strange procession moving through
the silent, storm-shattered town.
\
It is recorded that Louis Doucet and
Captain Cortes both recovered; but Doucet
was never afterward able to be q soldier,
though he lived to be very old man. He
and Pauline were married at Mobile by
priest called Father Roman, and soon after
ward they returned to France and made
their home in Provence, amid the scenes of
their childhood. and in the very house made
holy to them by their betrothal. The legend
further says that their children numbered
IL, z of which were sons; the others, pre-
sumsbly, were girls
The subsequent career Of Captain Cortes
is not certainly known, but in an old,
though not well authenticated, chronicle
preserved at Seville mention is made of an
officer of that name who, "after valiant
service in the Floridas and in many other
countries wherein he followed the Holy
Cross, was granted an estate in Mexico,
near by Vera Cruz, where he lived and
died unmarried, always true to his king and
to the Holy Church; and it was the pro-
ceeds of his estate, bequeathed for the pur-
pose, that built the Convent of the Sacred
Heart"
Recently, while sojourning in Pensacola,
spent some golden April DAYS, with the
as possible the exact spot whereon Doucet
and Cortes fought and fell. If ever you
chance to visit that picturesque and charm
ing little city by the gulf it may please you
to walk up the main street toward the site of
the old fort on the hill. When you reach q
rather narrow. fower-fringed cross street
about half way on your journey, turn into
it to the right and 20 forward until you
come to small garden on the left. On the
flank of this garden, or flower plot, you
will see low, home-like, old-fashioned
cOttdyt, over WuOst Wlue VeraQQa
climbs a rose-vine of wonderful lux
uriance, heavy with masses of strange
ly fragrant roses. Standing on the
sidewalk nearly In front of this cottage,
turn your face toward the bav and let your
eyes seek and rest upon the tallest spire in
sight. This done, let your gaze fall straight
down until it reaches the ground some ten
yards in front of you.- That is the spot
Near by is a mulberry tree. little beyond
stands clump of oleander, with hedge of
spirea and Grape myrtle struggling away
from it, You will feel the breeze from the
Buccaneer Islands blowing over you,
mocking bird will sing in the moss-hung
live oak yonder, the bay will glimmer and
toss its foaming waves and over all will
hang sky as blue and pare as that OF
Provence ITSELF
One hundred and seventy years may not
be large part of the past, but certainly
large enough 10 have compassed the growth
of the greatest nation of the earth. II in
telling this story have preserved one in
cident of that history, surely the telling has
not been in vain. Such bits of romance
serve to show us how far our civilization is
removed from that which nodded the lives
and directed the loves of those whose for
tunes have found it pleasure to record.
1.-THE END.l
Copyright 1889: all rights reserved