The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-05-23
qHE RED FLAG.
NJ. 3. BRADDoN.
Author OF "Lady Audlcy's Secret

Author OF "IIady Audlcy's Secret"
etc. etc. etc.
8 the streets were very quiet, and had a
somewhat gloomy look as the wedding
party drove back to Git 10 CGur; but they
were all too happy, too much engro5sed by
their own bliss, to remark the change that
had come over the aspect of the city. No
more flags, no more cheering, no more songs
Of triumph.
81 wonder they did not illuminate some
Of the public buildings" said Durand, as
they rassed the Palais de Justice.
Not q festival lamp twinkled in the Au-
gust shutdown; not a star of colored light
sparkled on all the length of the quays; not
rocket shot up above the chestnuts In the
Gardens of the Tuileries. Paris wore her
everyday aspect. However elated the city
had been this morning, she was taking her
triumph soberly tonight.
The little dinner In the Rue Git lie Ceur
was . great success. The feast was held in
Madame Schubert's apartment, and that
kindly matron presided at the banquet.
Never wa there a merrier meal; voices all
mingling now and then In a joyous tumult
of speech-voices low and sweet, deep and
resonant-and ripplas of happy laughter; q
frequent clinking of glasses, and anecdotes
and cdIcnbors. Gaston's friend the Journal
ist turned out a wit of the first water; and
the gray-bearded grave artist proved VOL
derfully good company; he was loaded with
anecdotes, like a six-chambercd revolver,
and before his audience had done laughing
ct one story he had begun another, still fun
nier, and then another, fuinier again, a
perpetualcrescendo of mirth.
Just as q browning feature, with the des-
sert, came a single bottle of champagne,
whose cork exploded with the force of a
cannon.
Listen there! p cried the journalist. "IIow
that thunders. 1t is the true wine of war"
And at this a burst of Iaiety. 1t is stich q
droll thing, Ia guerre, when ones W coun-
try is winning.
Just one little glass more, une polichi-
nellie, my friend" said CASTOR, filling his
fellow-scribbler's glass, ITO fete our arms"
After the champagne, CASTOR slipped ont
quietly, with Just a whispered explanation
to his wife. He had to go round to the news
paper office, in the Rue st. Andre dies Arts,
to arrange about his descriptive article fol
Sunday, OF, in point of fact, to write his pa
per on the spot.
He was gone about an hour and a half and
although the anecdotes and cdlembors wen,
on, and the fun was fast and furious all the
tlulc, LilaG lOul dllu d llull bttiucu ioliS ~
his bride.
When he came back the gloom of hi:
countenance scared the jewellers.
why, CASTOR, thou lookest as dolorou'
as the statue Of the Commandante! Who
ails thee, Trouble-feast?"
'It was all a hoez," cried Mortemar, fling
ing down his hat savagely, "a trick of tina
black-hearted devil Bismarck. There ha:
been no French ~victory-defeat, If any
thing. And our shouts, our songs, our flag.
ALI madness and folly"
70, but come, now, that is a little to,
strong on the part of &c coqnin Bismarck
"Yes, 1t is too strong. He is strong AM
weare ~weak-weaker than water. A ma
ton that has nc prudence, no caution, n
GOODNESS Of brain, can never be a great ma
ton. We are children, always ready t
take a will-o'the-wisp for a comet."
I'VE are Celts, my friend, that is all
And We have the strength and the weakness
of the Celtic n%ature,' quietly answered til
gray-bearded painter. II am afraid thes
slow square-headed Saxons will get the be
ter of us. 1t is the old race Of the hare an
the tortoise over again."