The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-05-02
CHAPTER ".

Pauline found herself in the arms of
her watchful guardian, the dona, who
was praying and crying at the same
time. They were rudely pressed back
ward by the recol 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
Keeling out of the crowd and fell at Paul
ines feet, where he writhed for a mo-
ment, with the blood leaping from a
wound in his neck, and died face down
ward, biting the sand of the street.
The nearest house was a 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 Hortense pushed Pauline, just in
time to escape a volley Of pistol shots fired
by half dozen OF the Frenchmen. The
Compile de Championship 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 peculiar sugges-
ton of resiStIess energy so well remem-
bered by every experienced soldier. The
roof overhead was shattered. Down from
a long, ragged, diagonal rent fell a shower
of boards and splinters.
Holy Mary, save u.s. 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 over
whelming danger. She went to the door
way 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; dubbed blunder-
buses 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 oc-
casion. With the strange double power
of the mind at such times she was not
ing every detail of the struggle before
her, while at the same instant she re-
membered all the long series of events
by which she had been led to take upon
herself this life of incompatible excite
ment and danger. The vines and gar
dens of Provence, with the roses and the
odors; the dear old days of love and joy;
the sunshine, the shade. the moonlight
on the dusky orchards; 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 vet so real, fine idealization
of her girlhood's dearest experiences.
Through the roar of cannon and the
clangor of swords, above the yelling of
wild savages and the oaths 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 chat Louis Dou-
Get had murmurcd in her ear, the pres
sure of his hand, the betrothal kiss,
thousand touches of sentiment and of
gentle romance thrilled her again. And
vet there were the pools Of blood in the
street. red pools that slowly sank away
into the sand, and there were the fercely
struggling men trampling their dying
fellows as they fought. Strange that
the fragrance of the early autumn roses
growing and blowing in a neighboring
plot should have impressed her senses at
such a 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 Capt. Cortes met face
to face and crossed swords near the mid
die of the little street. The Spaniard
knew his man. Pauline's cry Of recogni-
ton awhile ago had told him who was the
swift footed and handsome young leader
of the French detachment. As for Dou-
Get. he knew nothing more than that an
enemy worthy OF his steel was before
him. 4 voice that he had heard few
moments before had seemed 10 him to
utter his name with a sweet tenderness
that recalled IN some strange way the
homesickneSS Of his first year OF absence
froI France. 1t was no time for gentle
reflections 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 well matched II every wsv.
Cortes was trifle the taller, but Doucet
appeared rather more compactly built
than his adversary. Both were suffi-
GENTLY heated by previous exeruon %
make their blood swift and their mus
cles ready.
No tine was lost; the fight vas Ges-
perate from the beginning, neither COM
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