Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1890-10-31
THE OLD TUNIC.
Whittier.

VI the illDlSleT vi war Dtu lOT ii COlIedSue
and fellow clerk one Jean Vidal, an old
non-commissioned officer who had lost a
left arm in the Italian campaign, but who
still had his right hand with which he ac-
complished marvellous feats with the pen,
IN round hand, running land and Gothic
hand, and executed with a single stroke of
the pen n small bird in the flourish to his
signature.
Vidal was a worthy man, a typical old
soldier, upright and pure. Although he
was hardly forty years old, and but few
gray hairs appeared in his pointed zouave
beard, yet We already called him at the
office, Pere Vidal, but with less familiarity
than respect, for we knew his life of honor
and devotion in his small, cheap lodging in
the tHrthest part of Grenelle. where his
sister lived with him, a widow, with a long
string of children, and where he supported
this little world upon his slender income,
that is to say, the payment for his cross,
his pension and bis clerkship-3,00O francs
for i've persons. Never mind His frock
coats, with the empty left sleeve Topped up
on the third button, were always brushed
as Tor II review by the inspector general,
and the red ribbon of his decoration, al.
ways fresh, was so serious a thing to the
good man that he took it from his button
hole whenever he carried a package through
the streets, sometimes a pair of boots from
L~atour's, or "A pair of trousers bought in
the morning at the Belle J%ardiniere.
As ! used to live then in the environs of
South Paris, | frequently shaped my home
ward way SO that | could 90 with Pere
Vidal, and ! amused myself by getting
him to recount his campaigns as we walk
ed by the vicinity of the Ecole Militaire,
where at that time could be seen Gt was
I,,,;A tIo ln-t see - tla aa,,;,aA +L,.
snowy uniforms of the imperial guard,
fuglemen in green, lancers in white, and
the somber and magnificent officers of the
artillery in black and gold, a costume in
which it is quite worth while to 90 and be
killed. Sometimes in the hot summer
evenings / offered a glass of absinthe to
my companion, a luxury which poor Vidal
economically denied himself, and we would
stop for a half hour before an officers cafe
in the Avenue de la Mothe Piquet. On
such days the old sub" who had become
the most steady of family men, and had
quite lost his habit of gossiping, would
rise from the table with an heroic giddi-
ness in his head, and | was sure of hearing
for the rest of the way some good warstory.
One evening" believe, God forgive me,
that Pere Vidal had taken two glasses of
ab,inthe-in making our way through the
nii-tIdDlt bpualtNdlu dt OItItIlt, IL supp
ped suddenly before the place of a dealer
in second hand military clothes. There
are a good many of them in that quarter.
Ii was Il dingy, dirty shop, displaying in
the window some rusty pistols, wooden
bowls full of buttons, gilded epaulettes,
and in front were hung, among some mis-
cradle rags, several old coats of officers,
ruined and tattered by the sun and rain,
but which, still preserving the impress of
the shape andthe breadth of the shoulders,
had something vaguely human in their APP
pearance. Vidal, grasplng my arm with
his only hand, and looking at me with a
gaze that was not without suggestions of
absinthe, lifted the stump of an arm to
point out one of the coats, the tunic of an
African officer, with its skirt in a hun
dred plaits and a triple braid of gold twist
ing into an eight on the shoulder.
Look at that" he said; that's the uni
form of my old corps, "A captains tunic."
Then, coming nearer to m the tat
tiers more closely, he read the number en-
graved on the buttons. and called out ex.
citedly:
at is my regiment. 1t is the First you
aves!'
But suddenly Pere Yidal's hand, which
had already laid hold upon the old tunic,
remained fixed, his face darkened, his lips
trembled, and lowering his eyes he muir
INJURED in a frightened way:
my God! If it should be hisl'
Then, with "A sudden gesture, he turned
the tunic round, and | could see in the
middle of the back Il little round hole, the
hole of a bullet, encircl'~i with "A black
stain which was undoubtedly old blood.
and that ~telltale hole was as shocking, as
pitiful, as a wound.
oh! ohI' said to Pere Vidal, who had
suddenly dropped the coat and was on his
way again, stepping quickly with bowed
head, there was IA sad scarf And antici-
pating IA story | added, to excite my com.
panlon into telling it, "The captains of the
zoudves were not usually shot in the
back
But he did not appear to hear me, and
he muttered some words, biting his mus
Jache; How came it to be strande there;
Its a long way from the battlefield of Me
legnano to the Boulevard de Grenelle, Oh,
see it. the crows that follow the army
the robbers of the dead. Blu why just
there. two steps from the Ecole Militaire
where his regiment is stationed with the
otheri And he should have passed by
here! he should have recognized thatl Oh
at Is like a ghOst!
Look here. Pere Vidal" | said, begin
oliB 10 ne a EbOu uCul inltItNltfl, anu TAN
iDg him by the arm, you are not going u
continue to talk in enigmas, and you ar,
going 10 tell me what memories have beer
awakened by that pierced tunic."
certainly believe that without the tive
glasses OF absinthe | SHOULD have Learned
nothing, for at that demand Pere Vida
looked at mt distrustfully, almost anxious
ly; but suddenly, as if making II great re
solve, he said shortly.
We'll, yes, | will tell it to you. Ina
much as you are a well informed and hon
est young man | have confidence in you
and when | have finished you snail tell
frankly your hand on your hearth YOU
think il strange in me to be moved as
have been moved. Let us see Wher
shall we begini First, | cannot tell yoV
his name, the other, since he is living, bu
4 shall call him by the nickname which W
gave him in the regiment, Thirsty-yes
we used to call him Thirsty-and he wei
answered the name. being one of those VIII