The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1889-07-17

BOlulefS, ana nurleu INTO Jne JrenCH. Is
he dead or alive2 The zouaves don't
know, but at o'clock they are masters
of Sebastopol.
Victor was made Sergeant for his
bravery during the attack. lie marched
with his comrades through the suburb Of
Karabelnaia as sword in hand they drove
the Russians to the bridge, which was
their last refuge. The city was on fire
in several places. Victor came at last
before a house whose appearance showed
that it belonged to people of high rank.
1t was the dwelling of rich inhabitant
Of Sebastopol; perhaps one of the leaders
of the defense, whose military skill had
cost the French so much blood. Venge-
ance again awoke in Viotors breast.
The house did not seem to be altogether
deserted. If he could only find "A brother
here to butcher as they had butchered his
brother-hearts that he could rend as his
had been rent. Such was the revengeful
feelings of his heart
He will avenge himself by plunder, if
he cannot by murder. He will take gold,
if there is no blood to shed. He now
stands on the threshold of the rich house.
He now strides through a porch filled
with flowers. Flowers in the midst of
this bloody massacrel But whence comes
it that the zouave hesitates2 Close to the
flowers some children's playthings are
lying-tin soldiers, a sword and copper
cannon, the uniform of little four-year-
old artilleryman. Little children have
here been rehearsing the tragedy which
their father has been playing Victor
goes on; he penetrates into the drawing
room, which had been abandoned in
terror and dismay. The zouave casts a
triumphant glance on the treasures which
the owners could not take with them-a
rich booty for the soldier, if they had not
murdered his brotherl
lie was on the point of calling in his
comrades to plunder, when he heard n
heartrending cry above him. A shell
had fallen into the upper story of the
house. The zanave FASTENED up and
saw in a room, in the midst of the ruins
caused by the explosion, a young mother,
apparently dead, and child in her arms
"The poor boy" cried Victor, Mortified
at the sight, and he forgot everything
his dead brother, hisrevenge, the victory,
Sebastopol and the rich booty. He
hastens to the help of the mother-he,
who never remembers to have had a
mother himself-he seeks to restore her
to life. But all his efforts to restore her
to life are vain.
"Come, " he says to himself, "it is no
good; nothing will help her. Now, let
me see to saving the child" and he looks
at the little boy, who has fallen to the
ground and stares with terror at his dead
mother and his unknown enemy.
The zouave sought for the victor's re-
ward. There it is before him. TO pro-
tect an innocent life to give father to
an orphan. He who had himself been an
orphan from his birth. But what does
he discover as he takes up the child, and
whence comes his confusion2 He had
seen on the table gilded helmet, and on
the helmet the black eagle and the crest
which he had seen on the officer who
slew his brother.
This, then, is his wife whom he has be-
fore his eyes-this is his son whom he is
about to save! Victor, who has over
come the cholera and faced death in a
thousand forms, sinks down upon chair.
He struggles in a terrible conflict with
himself, his sword seems to move at his
side and his musket seems to cry "Fire ~
But another figure stood between him and
his slain brother-that of the dead mother
of the child, who seemed to be kneeling
before him with clasped hands.
"Ohl / am sufficiently avenged No
cruelty" the zouave eXclaims, springing
up, and then these words come into his
mind: "Whatsoever We do unto one of
these little ones ye do it unto me. s"
And with gentle hands he took up the
little child, whose father had killed
Charles Carabine, and bearing him close
to his heart he passed with indifference
by the silver plate without needing the
Jewels and rich dresses.
On the evening of that day the zouave
returned with the little Russian in his
arms to his tent, and prepared for him as
good a supper as he could, and his rough
comrades We'd with each other in provid-
ing for "the little eagle, and preparing
him nest as soft as that of his mother.
Several months had passed since these
events, Peace was signed at Paris, and
Victor Carabine, with his comrades, had
returned 10 the capital, taking the
''young black eagle" with them.
About the middle of January, 1856, an
old man and a young lady in deep mourn
ing-still very pale from the effects of i'll