The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1890-07-18

before his eyes. He saw the clearing
the group of seconds, two men dressed
in black facing each other and theil
pistols pointed toward the grass, wait
ing for the signal, while the sunbeami
filtered through the trees aud the birds
on the branches ohanted joyously--
Suddenly the picture changed.
A man, pale aud with closed eys lay
stretched on litter, while one of the
carriers stood knocking at a door. The
door was his ownl And the woman
who ran to meet the oortege--the
trembling creature who, with a terri.
BILE cry, threw herself on the corpse
he recognized, too. 1t was Claudine.
| Armand rose hastily aud paced rap
idly up aud down the room. 1t was
true. On the morrow pistol in hand,
he would be risking his own life to
take anothers.
His life! Great God, did it belong to
! him7 Had he the right to dispose of
It'll Did he not owe it, as much as
money, to those who depended upon
him3 Were he dead, what would be
the fate of his wife aud children,
thrown helples on the mercies of his
terrible creditors2 He had no money.
There was not hundred francs in the
house. His sole fortune was in his
pen, his talent, his brain
Where would they be tomorrow.
And his little wife, so fragile, so
delicate, what was in store for heri
The hospital? And after that! And
his childreu-Georget, so bright, 80
happy, so intelligent; his little girl, his
merry fairy-what would become of
themf
Fougert continued to pace nervously
up and down the floor. The veins in
his temples throbbed until they seemed
on the point of bursting. He moisten-
ed his handkerchief and wound it about
his head. The cold water helped to
cool his burning brain. Now he saw
it all clearer. He had exaggerated the
situation; duel was not necessarily
fatal. Had he not already fought
three of them, and was he not alive on
the eve of the fourth Yes; but then
he was alone in the world. His life
was his own; he had the right to dis
pose of it as he pleased. He had given
no portion of his life to a wife; no
children to leave behind, fatherless
penniless and helpless. Aud as these
thoughts again began to surge through
his aching brain he fsncied he could
see the shining barrel of pistol, with
the little, round, dark hole aimed dire
city between his eyes.
He tried in vain to change the cur
rent of his thoughts, They refused to
vanish. He was responsible for the
care of those he loved. They lived
by him, and they would perish without
him. The ball that struck him would
take more than one life. There would
be three other victims three to whom
he owed love, happiness and bread.
Good God, how terrible it all was
But another idea, equally as horrible
crossed his mind.
His honor!
He knew his comrades and the in
credulous flansurs of the boulevard.
He heard their comments and their
pitiless raillery. What word were
they pronouncing? "a cowardl" No
it was impossible. He surely woult
| find some one of his companions whC
would defend him. Men are good a
heart; some one would be found wht
could understand.
"Armand," came an anxious voic
from the adjoining room, "are yov
troubled' You have been talking t.
yourself for whole hour. You ar
not ill?"
mo, no, my dear" he replied, goinl
to the door, "do not worry. IL al
working"
"Ah, that is WE'LL" said Claudine
with sweet smile. Then, as sh
dropped her long lashes over her slum
ber heavy eyes. she murmered: "Thin
what-would become Of us-if yo
were to-get sick-the little ones-an
me. Baby-is asleep. Good night
DEAR" and the loving wife resumed he
interrupted dream.
AT the other end of the room, safel
tucked in his little CRIB, smiling an
peaceful, with his little hands tight
} clasped, little Georget slept.
A sudden torrent of tears burst frol
Armand's eyes and wet his cheeks. Ii
rushed into his studio, seized a shee
of paper and wrote.
The next morning at 1890 a ma
| irreproachably attired in black stoo
on the field at Vezinet and with al
agitated air held out letter to anoth,
t parsonage, equally anxious and no les
, solemn.
SIS it possible7" said the first.
"What, message?" said the se
= ond
, "The unfortunate man forgets tn
: he dlshonors himself" said one.
"And that his cowardice might r,
fleet on us" replied the other.
, "But that shall not happen" sal
e both together.
And with grave air and measur,
t steps the two men advanced toward
J. small group who were viewing h
UNUSUAL proceedings with surprise.
l Gentlemen" said the one of I'll
s pair, speaking composedly in the mid
It of general silence, "we regret to a
e nounce that our principal and form
Q friend, M. Armand Fougeret, will n
be on the field to day. He will n
, fight.
o sit is scarcely necessary for me
add he continued, replacing his h
r on his head with sweeping gestur
/. "that, as for us, we are entirely
= your service" ."-Argonaut, from ii
French of Pierre Decourcelle.
q $
q A Remarkable Case From Illinois.