The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-06-20
sullen thunder, the sound of muskeay close

suilen thunder, the sound of muskeay close
at hand.
AT midday a hideous noise resounded
throughout the quarter. The houses rock.
ed; fragments of plaster fell from the cell
ing.
What was that? The explosion was too
loud for any she'll, however formidable. 1t
was only the powder magazine at the Lux
embourg, which had just been blown up.
The Pantheon was expected momentarily.
And still Maman Schubert, with mods and
friendly smiles, assured her dearest Mad
anne Durand, "cette pauvre cherie,' - that the
Versailles troops were carrying everything
before them. The Commune was surrender
ing without a blow. Order would be restor-
ed, Paris at peace, by Sunday morning.
And we shall hear all the church-bells
ringing for mass, and see the people in their
Sunday clothes,'' concluded Maman Schu-
bert cheerily.
So the long day and the evening wore
through, and it was midnight, and there
was no sign of Kathleen.
She whose return was SO eagerly awaited
in the Rue Git lie Ceur was not very far
aield when the clocks chimed midnight.
She had wandered about Paris all day,
haunting the gates of the prisons, inquiring
for her missing husband of every one who
seemed in the least likely to be able to an
swer. Had there been any new arrests made
within the last three days, and amongst the
new arrests was there a young man, tall,
slim, with dark-gray eyes and marked brows,
handsome, a journalist? at the gates Of
Mazas, at the Great and the Little Roquette.
at Sainte Pelagie, at La S9.lte, the patient
pilgrim appeared, weary, with garments
whitened by the chalky dust of the hard
dry roads which scorched her tired feet
= dropping in body, yet brave of soul, CUES.
t'oning, seeking, watching, imploring, but
finding no trace of the lost one.
Night was falling before she turned away
from the gates of La Sante, the model pris-
on of Paris, where General Chanzy had been
imprisoned for seven weary days at the be-
ginning of the Commune-night had fallen
as she walked slowly and YEARLY back to
that part of the city which she knew best,
where the Pont Neuf spans the Seine, and
the dark towers of Notre Dame stand out
strong and stern against the skyline. Night
had come, but not darkness. The crescent
moon shed her pale silvery light in the east,
and the stars We're golden In the deep calm
azure of a cloudless sky. But all at once
that azure vault grew dark, and the stars
vanished. Gigantic clouds of black smoke
mounted to the sky, and then descended
earthward, covering the city with All i'm
penetrable dome. Beneath this inl1y vault
all was lurid. An awful light glared and
glowed OH the quays, on the bridges in the
broad space in front of the Hotel de Vile.
Lett bank and right bank blazed and glared;
here some stately public office, there a mil
%lionaire's mansion, sent up its tribute of
fame to swell the funeral pyre of the DOOM
ed city. "Chassepot and torch, shoot and
burn!' was the order of the night. Yonder
In the Rue de Rivoli they were fighting des-
perately. Kathleen ran across the street
amidst y ram Of bullets, stumbling over
scattered corpses, deafened by the roar of
the cannonade. Slowly, despairingly, she
wandered up and down those dreadful
streets, perpe,ually in danger, yet passing
scathless through every peril. Now and
h a savage scowling face looked at her
interrogatively, and then passed by. Senti-
nels questioned, and let her pass. There
was no harm in her. She had a distracted
look-a petroleuse who had proved of too
weak a mind for that patriotic work, per-
haps. Women are feeble creatures. This
ones head had been turned. Only an in
mate the more for the Maison DIES Fous.
Amidst blood and fire she wandered to
and fro, pausing whenever there was a knot
of oilers at a corner to listen to their talk,
or repeat her old inquiries. Had there been
any new aIr"s's within the last three davsr
ITO Do Continued