Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-11-01
would like to kill him myself, if 1 were

pie did not wear very black clothes wher
! their friends died, and lndited curiou:
epistle to his father begging permission te
wear the deepest mourning for the lady he
was to have married Vested in black
| his little mouse-colored head looked more
pitful and vague than ever, as he sal
out the long funeral service in the church
of Saint Gervais, and lost himself in end
less efforts to count the candles and I'M
derstand what the strange catafalque and
velvet pail in the middle of the church
meant, and what had become of the
Countess.
After the burial his tutor took him to
the cemetery. The bereaved child carried
a big wreath to lay upon the grave of his
departed lady-love Kneeling there, upon
the same mission, was NJ. lie Comte, she'd
ding copious tears and apostrophizing the
dead be had made it point to wound in
life. Herve knelt opposite and stared
at him Indignantly. Why should he cry ?
The Countess had not loved him, nor had
he loved the Countess. The boy flung
himself down on the soft earth. and began
to sob bitterly. The thought that he
would never again see his lost friend took
full possession of him for the first time,
and he wanted to die himself. Disturbed
by this passionate outbreak, the Count
rose, brushed the earth from his new trou-
sers with mourning pocket handkerchief
already drenched with his tears, and pro-
ceeded to lift Herve.
"The dear defunct was much attached to
you, little Marquis" he said, and began to
wipe away Nerves tears with the hand
kerchief made sacred by his own. "Yon
were like son to her."
81 don't want you to dry my tears, mon
sieur," Herve exploded, bursting from his
enemy's arms 81 do not like you, and /
always thought you would die soon, and
not Madame. 1t isn't just, and l will not
be friends with you. | shall hate you al
ways, for you are a wicked man, and you
were cruel to Madame"
The Count, who was not himself ac-
counted sane by his neighbors, looked at
the amused and impossible tutor, and sig
nifcantly touched his forehead.
Hereditary" he muttered, and stood to
make way for Herve.
The birds were singing deliciously, the
late afternoon sunshine gathered above the
quiet trees (made quieter by here and
there an unmovable cypress and a melan-
choly yew, fit symbols of the rest of DEATH
into pale golden mist shot with slanting
rays Of light, and the violets, was the only
scent to shake by suggestion the sense of
soothing negation of all emotion or re-
membrauce. Out upon the road, running
like broad ribbon to the town, unani
mated in the gentle illumination of the
afternoon, the tutor and Herve met The
Colonel limping along, one might imagine,
upon the sound of a prolonged boom.
Nerves tears were dried, but his face
looked sorrowful and stained enough to
spring tears of sympathy to any kind eyes.
The Colonel drew up, touched his cap, and
uttered his customary signal with more
than his customary gruffness. Herve
stood his ground firmly, though he WINGED,
for he was delicate child, unused to
rough sounds.
"How goes it, NJ. lie Marquis? How
goes it ?" shouted the Colonel.
M lie Colonel, it goes very badly with
me, but 1 try to bear it. My tutor tells
me that men do not fret; / wish l knew
how they manage not to do SO when they
are sad. did want to grow up soon, and
explore the world like my grandpapa, and
theu should have married the Countess
of Fresney if her husband were dead.
But now everything is different, and l
don't even want to see the tower of William
the Conqueror again. don't want to
grow up | don't want anything now"
"Poor little man p said the Colonel,
patting his shoulder. you've lost
friend, but you will gain others, and per-
haps you'll be great soldier one of these
days, like the Little Corporal"
Herve shook his head dolorously. He
saw nothing but unpleasant lessons, varied
by sad excursions to the Countess grave.
The unhappy little Marquis was moping
and fading visibly. He could not be got
to take an interest in his lessons, and he
proudly strove to conceal the fact that he
was afraid of his tutors mocking smile.
The news of his ill-health reached NJ. de
Vervainville in Paris, and at once brought
that alarmed gentleman down to Falaise.
On Nerves life depended his town lux
uries and his importance as landed pro-
prietor. Was there anything his son
wished for? Herve reflected awhile, then
raised his mouse-colored head and sighed
his own little sigh. He thought he should
like to see Col Larousse. And so il came
that one morning, staring out of the win
dow, the boy saw familiar military figure
limping up the avenue. Nerves worried
small countenance almost glowed with ex-
pectation as he rushed to welcome his VS.
itor, the sound of whose boom and the tap
of his wooden leg upon the parquet as
well as his dreadful shaggy eyebrows,
seemed even cheerful.
"Do you think, Monsieur" Herve asked
gravely, "that you would mind having for
friend such very little boy as | ?"
The Colonel cleared his throat, and felt
his eyes required the same operation,
though he concealed that fact from Herve.
"Boom Iouchez-la, mon braue."
Never yet had Herve heard speech SO
hearty and so republican. 1t astonished
him and filled him with a sense of perfect
ease and trust. 1t was like free breath
in oppressive etiquette-the child-prince's
first mud-pie upon the common road of
humanity. Herve became excited, and
confided to the Colonel that his father had
ordered toy sailing-boat for him, and
that there was going to be ball at Saint
Laurent in honor of his birthday, though
he was not quite sure that he should enjoy
that so much as the boat, for he had never
danced and could not play any games like
other children. Still, if Colonel Larousse
would come, they could talk about SOL
diers. Come? Of course the Colonel
came, looking in his brushed uniform as
one of the heroes home from Troy, and
Herve admired him prodigiously.
The birthday ball was a great affair
Guests came all the way from Caen and Lii
sioux, and Herve, more bewildered than
elated, stood beside his splendid father to
receive them. Ladies in lovely robes,
shedding every delicate scent like flowers,
petted him, and full-grown men, looking at
these ladies, made much of him. They
told him that he was charming, but he did
not believe them. One cannot be both
ugly and charming, little Herve thought
with much bitterness and an inclination
to cry. Their compliments gave him the