Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-07-07
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} French officer also r
ppeared so. for with a !
forward and hurled hil
down upon the now cl
aniards. In an instant
d deadly struggle, a hal
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CHAPTER ".
found herself in the ar
guardian, the Dona,
I'd crying at the same til
CHAPTER w.

Pauline found herself in the arms of her
wafhful guardian, the Dona, who was
praying and crying at the same time. They
were rudely pressed backward by the recoil
of the men when the French detachment
struck them at full charge. There was a
crash of blows and a volley of horrible oaths
mingled with cries of rage and pain. A
man came reeling out of the crowd and fell
at Pauline's feet, where he writhed for q
moment, with the blood leaping from q
wound in his neck, and died face downward
biting the sand of the street.
The nearest house was low, mud-daubed
structure, the rudest form of dwelling in
use by the colonists. The door stood open
with the threshold on the level of the
ground. Into this dark room Dona Hor-
tense pushed Pauline just in time to escape
q volley of pistol shots fired by half dozen
of the Frenchmen. The Compte de Champ
meslin had run his ships in close to the
mainland, and now began raking the town
with broadsides at short range. The balls went
bounding along the ground and tearing
through the frail buildings with that pecu-
liar suggestion of resistless energy so we'll
remembered by every experienced soldier.
The roof overhead was shattered. Down
from long, ragged. diagonal rent fell
shower of boards and splinters.
"Holy Mary save usl' prayed the Dona,
sinking upon her knees and lifting her
clenched hands.
Pauline, strange TO say, felt no fear. From
the beginning she had been in that numb
and bewildered state which often comes upon
one in the midst of overwhelming danger.
She went to the doorway and looked out.
The combatants, French and Spanish, were
all mingled together fighting hand to hand
without regard for discipline or order.
Blows were falling thick and fast; swords
clashed with swords; clubbed blunderbusses
rose and fell with such sounds as would,
under ordinary circumstances, sicken the
strongest heart. She looked on possessed by
a subtitle fascination, feeling little OF the
true horror OF the occasion. With the
strange double power of the mind at such
times she was noting every detail of the
struggle before her, while;at the same in
slant she remembered all the long series Of
events by which she had been led to take
upon herself this life of Incompatible ex-
citement and danger. The vines and gar
dens of Provence with the roses and the
odors, the dear old days of love and
Sy SScnsss ss Ss tss aaly 'hsas asb.rd ths
the church bells and all the sweet
incidents and accidents of home life, came
upon the field of her vision and shimmered
before her. dream-like and yet so real, a fine
idealization of her girlhood's dearest ex-
periences. Through the roar of cannon and
the clangor of swords. above the yelling of
wild savages and the osths of Christians, she
heard the bubbling of the Rhone and the
mellow songs Of the nightingales in the leafy.
odorous closes beyond the Avignon. Sweet
words that Louis Doucet had murmured in
bar he ~ io han L. L.
trothal kiss, thousand touches of sentiment
and of gentle romance thrilled her again.
And yet there were the pools OF blood in the
street, red pools that slowly sank away into
the sand, and there were the fercely strug-
CLING men trampling their dying fellows as
they fought. Strange that the fragrance of
the early autumn roses growing and blowing
in neighboring plot should have impressed
her senses at such time, but the sweet
breath came over the scene of terrible passion
and brought into her consciousness its touch
OF pleasure despite the awful strain of what
she was witnessing.
Louis Doucet and Captain Cortes met face
to face, and crossed swords near the middle
OF the little street. The Spaniard knew his
man. Pauline's cry of recognition awhile
ago had told him who was the swift-footed
and handsome young leader of the French
detachment. As for Doucet, he knew moth
Ing more than that an enemy worthy of his
steel was before him. A voice that he had
heard few moments before had seemed to
him 10 utter his name with sweet tender
ness that recalled, in some strange way, the
homesickeess of his first year of absence
from France. 1t was no time for gentle re-
Elections now; the voice could not really
have called him, he thought, and the mere
fash of nostalgia passed as quickly as it
came. His sword rang sharp and clear on
that of Cortes. The two men glared at each
other, the concentrated hatred of years of
war and hardship burning in their eyes.
The meaning OF such look can never fall |
short of death.
They were we'll matched IN every way.
Cortes was triae the taller, but Doucet ap- |
peared rather more compactly built than |
his adversary. Both were sufficiently heated |
by previous exertion to make their blood |
swift and their muscles ready.
No time was lost; the fight was desperate |
from the beginning, neither combatant at |
first thinking Of anything but rushing upon |
and bearing down the other. Both, how
eyer. discovered very soon that it was neces-
sary to have care for self-defense as we'll |
as for attack. They fenced furiously and I
adroitly, neither giving an inch, utterly
forgeffui Of what was rnipr on around them.