Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-06-28
CHAPTER X

1t Is morning, dim early morning, dawn
pink and psarl-colored above the housetops,
an odor of verdure, Of lilacs, and acacias in
the fresh sweet air; and Kathleen wanders
up and down the Avenue d'Italie, always
coming back to that house which has been
used as O prison by Citizen Serizier, Colonel
Serizier, the leader Of the l0ist battalion.
From one and from another, from many in
formants who all seem to tell their story
differently, she has gathered the history Of
the massacre. She has heard how those
harmless Dominican Fathers were hunted
down, slaughtered like sheep in the sham
bles. II is after much questioning that she
hears from q woman in u of the houses
opposite the prison that there was another
victim, one who was neither Dominican nor
subordinate OF the Dominican school-a
young man, handsome, with dark hair and
eyes. lie would have escaped In the melee,
only he lost time in trying TO save Father
Captier, the Prior; and it was only when
the Prior had fallen, when the fathers had
been shot down all along the street, thai
this noble youth had turned to fly. And
then, like a young antelope, he rushed
through the savage crowd. He would have
got of even then, perhaps, IL 1t had not
been for a ~petroleuse, a yeritable she-deyil,
who gave the ~vlew-halloa, and rushed after
him with half a dozen r%ufians. He fell at
the corner of a side street-that new street
10 the left yonder-the woman thought.
Kathleen listened 10 the woman's story,
questioning her closely at every stage. She
was so calm in her white despair, she listen
ed and pondered the details of the tragedy
with such a tranquil air, that one could have
hardly guessed that each word was a death
blow.
DO you recognise this young man as any
one belonging to your asked the woman
compassionately.
She was a sempstress, who cared neither
for Peter nor Paul, a decent person who had
descended from her attic in the roof 10 see
what this new dawn was bringing to Paris
-deliveraDce or death. She vas not n Of
those furies who had stood at their windows
shrleking and applaudlng during the butch
cry,
II believe he was my husband"
Heavens, that is sadl'
"Whose fault was n? Whose work, the
massacre? Can you tell me that?'
They say hereabouts that 10 was Serizier,
Colonel Serizier. He ras at the head Of it
all. He ordered the Dominieans and the
others to be brought here; he ordered them
to be shot; he wa there, in the midst of the
massacre directing his men, encouraging
those vile women who were even more saw
age than the Federals; his own hand fired
upon those helpless priests; he Knocked
them with abusive epithets; he was pitiless,
devilish, murder incarnate. You look ready
to sink with fatigue" said the sempstress,
moved with pity for Kathleen, whose eyes
were fixed and CLASSY as the eyes OF d tn;
"come mp to my room and rest; it Is a poor
place, but you are welcome. Aad can
give you q cup of coffee and a bit of bread;
it is not so bad as In the SIEGE"
Not so bad? the streets were not drown
ed in blood then" said Kathleen. mo, you
are very good, but / an not tired" with a
CHASTITY smile. II will go and look at the
corner where he fell. Stay, what did they
do with tho bodiesg'
''The Versaillais came an hour after and
carried them all away"
"Where-where?' gasped Kathleen.
But the woman could not tell her. Among
so many wagon-loads of dead, who could
tell, who cared, whittier one particular batch
had been taken? Perhaps they had all been
carried to that gaping chasm behind the
chapel Mt Pere Dachaise, into which the
Federal corpses were flung en- mdsse after
the battle of Asnieres. TIL sempstress had
seen that common grave, sixty corpses wait
ing for recognition, a sight to freeze ones
blood.
Kathleen left her, and walked YEARLY to
that side street, a narrow shabby street {;
doors and windows were all closed, most of
the houses had an evil aspect. There was
no n standing about whom she could ques-
ton.
A few PAGES from the corner of the street,
st the foot of q lamp-post she saw the spot
where the victim had fallen. A pool of
blood had stained the summer dust. 1t was
dry now, but she could see how the corpse
had lain In blood and mire. The figure had
printed its outline on the ground. There
was no other trace of the massacre about.
One victim. and M only, had fallen here.
She knelt beside that awful stain; she
watered Il with her passionate tears, the
first she had shed throughout her pilgrim
age of two and-twenty hours. The church
clocks were striking four. Yesterday mcrn-
ing at six she had left the Rue Git le Ceur.
And now she had come to the end of her
tourney; she had found her resting-place.
She knelt alone, unnoticed, with her hands
clasped over her face, praying, first for her
beloved, for the repose Of his soul then fol-
lowed . prayer less pure, less Christian, for
revenge upon his murderer, the destroyer Of
her happiness.
Who was his murderer? Not the blind
mad mob, not even the deyilish woman, the
petroleuse, lashed into crime and murder
by the scourges of insurgent tyrants. Seri-
zier, the man In authority, the wretch who
brought those good fathers from their peace
full seclusion to the gaol and the shambles.
II was 6erizier Of whom she thought -hen
she prayed for vengeance.
Let 1t come, o Lord; long or late, let
Thy thunder come and strike him as he
struck them: Let Thine hour of vengeance
be sure and swift LO here, looking up TO
Thee, / swear never to know rest or respite
till / have tracked him to his DOOM
SerixIer, colonel Of tho 10lst battalion.
She wanted to know moro about him
whittier he had vanished after the carnage;
In what cellar or what garnet this craven
hound had hidden himself.
When she had exhausted her passion Ia
prayer, she Gained herself and began 70
think.
She was tired to the point OF being fain to
cast herself down upon the dusty road,
10 lie there till sleep or death came to give
her rest from the fever OF her brain and the
dull aching Of her bones. But she struggled
hcroically against this o~vcrpowcring lassi-
tudo. and went hack 10 the Boulevard, and
sQhhl1d on vi lbe CAM ia WQykmal's