Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-06-06

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 eHWCO.RUBAN v1ap months before had known no greater anxiet. than the failure of crop or the drought of season, now bore privations as calmly, an, risked death as recklessly. as the hardis' soldier who had spent lifetime in the ser vice of war and the toll of camps. Tonight. when the carousal wns over. an, the soldiers slept for the few brief hours :lia were alone permitted, he stood as sentine over the little troop.
 The air was chilly-there was no light, fol moon and stars were shrouded by gray hcav, clouds. With ears alert, and eyes keor and sharp as long habit could make them, h. paced to and fro in that ceaseless monoton | ous round that is wear!some even to tn. 1 trained soldier. Tire darkness deepcncd, and tho wind grew flercer. Into his brain stole the thoughts that could still so necessarily torture and preplex him. Into his hear came the memory of that night when the woman he loved had crouched at his feet and with the pallor of guilt on hor faco and yet the denial of guilt on her lips. hnd prayed hin to believe her innocent. Innocent! He almost laughed as he thought ofit. A week. old wife would not steal away through the midnight shadows to the presence of any liv. ing man. who was not beloved by her would not leave her husbands side and rish the Interpretation that conld not fail to be put on her doing SO, without some terribly strong motive.
 And yet now, in the stiffness und si- lance, and with the shadow of close peril beside him, he knew he loved her as fercely, adoringly, passionatoly as ever. He could not forgot or banish the remembrance that haunted him. Tho fever-mist of pain ttAt blinded his senses to every hardship ana his eyes to every peril. were yet not deep enough or dense enough to blind them to this one memory, to cover with oblivion this one love.
 As he paced to and fro in that monotonous march. he bent his head, and @ low groan of intense suffering escaped his lips.
 "To iorget2" he implored. "Oh God l for one hour to forgetw
 In an instant all thought of duty escaped him. the vigilant eyes no longer swept ,h" horizon. the keen ears grew deaf to all but the dull agonized beating of @ heart that fe!t 1t would never again Ind rest or peace on the
 
 looked round. Alas for that trance of pain, that short iorgetfulness The dull thud of horses feet came loud and distinct to his ears-in the shadow-play of night and dawn he saw the flash of arms, and while his alarum ran clarton-clear throughout the slumbering eamp. he knew hoy vain the warning was.
 In an Instant all was stir. bustle. oonfu- sion.
 With marvellous celerity the troops got under arms, but their actions were not rapid enough for the charging sweep of the foe. who trebled their scanty numbers and bore down on them with m eagles swoop
 The hoofs of rearing chargers struck at them on every side, the clash of swords and crash ol shot and steel filled all the air It was conflict sharp and short, a conflict hand to hand, breast to breast, over which the morning broke gray, and silvery, and beautiful. as though in mookery of the brute passions and murderous follies of mon,
 The struggle was brief. Outnumbered six to one, there was little doubt how 1t must end. Escape or victory were alike impossi- ble. The Prussians were victors ere tho day was an hour old.
 The prisoners of war-humiliated, dis.
 
 handed over to detachment of the Prus. sian corps. Their ultimate fate was not yet decided upon. The victory of Sedan had led to its evacuation, and the Bavarian and Prus. sian corps were marching rapidly toward Paris. The conquerors were exultant-the fate of war seemed certain now. All Paris was in revolt, confusion and excitement reigned everywhere. In military circles but one issue seemed possible. and though ''Guerre entrance" was still in every French. mans mouth. the German armies treated il as mere question of time.
 The4mprovised and Republican armies of France, drawn from all sources, and in many cases untrained and undisciplined, might certainly convert the war of arms into one of siege, but with Metz and Sedan in thei, hands. and the flower of the French army, either killed or prisoners. the Prussians might well be confident, and treat their ene- my's defiance as mere bravado.
 Pierre Leroux had been severely wounded. Unconscious of all that was passing around him, he lay throughout the long weary day, Pain held him powerless, his strong frame lay bruised and stricken. his eyes were closed, as if lead weighed down their lids Unfamiliar voices sounded in his ears, but he had no consciousness of their words. Weak with loss of blood. dizzy and faint with tho exhaustion of long fasting and incessant fatigue, SO he lay. wondering dimly If death was at hand now-the death he had prayed for 80 long.
 If his captors had been as merciless as he desired, another Idawn would never have greeted his earthly sight; but with certain rough kindness and compassion they had tended his wounds. and when consciousness returned. and fever at last left him, he found himself in an ambulance-wagon, in part of tho country totally new and strange to him. With sense and feeling came back the re- membrance of his fate. He was prisoner. Doubtless his captors were about to take him to their own :and stray words he caught here and there, all lseemed to point to this as conclusive. He glanced round the straw lined vehicle as 1t jolted over the rough un. even roads. Four other figures were stretched there hke himself Now and then . moan of pain escaped them. One he rec. oenised as the gay young soldier who had hod nd kA1 nk Aho ,,xSx~