The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-05-30
THE RED FLAG.
M. E. BRADDON.
Author OF "Lady Audley's Secret
III etc. etc,

one was q gentleman's daughter, uno
daughter OF an officer in the English army,
a man Of good birth and refined surround
tngs. This man of the people neverignored
that fact when he thought of his wife. He
wanted to atone to her for the sacrifice she
had made; he neve: thought of her as the
g~risette, earning her living by the labor of
her hands; but as Captain O,Hara's daugl-
ter, born and bred as a lady, STOPPING from
her high estate to become a mechanics
wife.
How happy were those brief glimpses of
home, those brief hours with gouge and
chisel, beside the hearth, while Rose stood
by and watched the slow careful work-the
chiselling Of a feather, the rounding of a
peach, the minute touches that marked the
scales of a fish!
Yes, even while fear and uncertainty
ruled without, while earnings were nil, and
the ~strictest economy was needed least
these days Of scarcity should exhaust the
little capital amassed with such miracles of
prudence and self-denial; even now, with
the enemy within sight of the walls, with
the future of France wrapped In gloom,
there was gladness in this humble home on
the second floor in the Rue Git lie CGur. and
the little dinner or supper of bread and
salad, the morsel of Lyons sausage, or the
wine-soup was as a feast at this board,
where Love ever sat as the chief guest,
smiling, blind to misfortune, careless Of
days to I'M
Above-stairs, in the journalists home,
Love also refined, and here. too, was the
deep happiness of perfect union; but with
Castor and Kathleen life was less calm
than in the Durand household. CASTOR was
stepped to the lips in the fever of politics.
was blown hither and thither, his soul toss
ed and agitated by every breath of the pub
lie whirlwind. He had friends here, there,
and everywhere among the extreme Repub-
lican party; he believed in Rochefort, he
wofshipped Flourens. that hot headed en-
thusiast who just at this time was in com
Imand Of five tattalions of the National
Guard, the beloved of Bclleyille and Menil-
montant, q leader at whose beat of drum
that seething populace were ready to rise rs
one man.
Thu Red Flag was loud in its reproaches
against existing authorities. The Red Flag
lauded Blanqui and the B%lanquists, and was
just now at the height of popularity, rival
ling Felix FYat's paper, lie Combat, and
Blanqu's Pdtrte en- Danger: and yet the
day was TO come when the Pdtrtc en- Danger
would cease TO charm, and the Rcd Flag
would not be half red enough-would per-
ish as an effete rag, too tame, too soft fer
the age of anarchy and death. The day was
to come when every color would be too pale
for Paris, save the deep dark hue of blood.
But at thist time Paris hal not yet begun
to suppress its newspapers. The Red Flag
was popular, and CASTOR Mortemar wa the
most popular among its contribu' ors. He
was paid literally for his work; fer in this
day Of doubt and uncertainty the poorest
could spare a couple of sous for a paperthat
told how France was being misgoyernea,
and called upon the supreme sovereign peo-
ple-the Mirabeaus and Robespierres, and
Dantons and Marats of Menilmontant, to
arise in their might, and steer the tempest
driven ship to q safe harbor- the smooth
roadstead of Communism, Collectivism,
Karl Marxism, what you Will; every man
his own master, no hereditary nobility, no
landowners, no millionaircs, a universal
level of blue blouses ami cheap wines.
And as weeks and months wore on, and
autumn began to have a wintry aspect. and
party rose against party, faction against fac
ton, and agitation and fever were in the
very air men breathed, Kathleen's breast
was fluttered by many fears. In Gaston's
absence she was never free rom nervous
apprehensions, from morbid imaginings. 1t
was only in those brief intervals when he
was at home, sitting at his desk, writing
passionate vehement protests against this
or that, prophecies of evil, wild suggestions
for wilder action, bending over his paper
witt, pale nervous face and flashing ewes,
dipping his pen into the ink as if it We're a
stiletto stuck in the heart Of the foe, writ
ing as if Satan himself guided his pen, OF
snatching some hurried meal while the
..,uAo,,s, Jn,;I ~, n ~ with +lo -, -
turn an hour after with the profit was
only then, when he was there, and she could
stand beside him as he wrote, and Irvine her
arms round his neck, or smooth his disorder.
ed hair, stopping now and then to kiss the
troubled brow, that Kathleen felt her lms-
band was safe. AT all other times she
thor Yht of him rs a mark for Prussian bu,-
lets or for private vengeance. She had
visions of every kind of catastrophe that
might befall him.
20, how l pity the poor rich wives, the
great ladies of Paris!' she said to CASTOR
one day as she sat on his knee, after Their
scanty meal, brushing back the rumpled
hair from his forehead with two loving
hands, looking down into the dark eyes
which gave back her look of love; "how |
pity them, poor things, sent awayto Dieppe
or to Etretat, to Arcachon or Trouville,
parted from their husbands, languishing
yonder in fear and tremblingl Don't you
think it was cruel of the husbands to send
them away, Gastonw
mo, dearest; unselish rather than cruel.
The women and children have been sent
away from scarcity and danger. from troub-
lie and fear. l wish you had let me send
you to your old friends at the convent
near Bruges, whose charity would lave for
given your flight, and who might have shell
tered you in peace and security till this tenn
pest should be overpast."
Peace and security away from you? |
should have broken my heart in a week.
You could never nave been cruel enough to
send me awayw
do you suppose l would not rather have
you here, pet?' he asked. looking up at her,
drawing down the pale fair face to meet his
own, and covering it with kisses; 1.-THE light
OF my home, the guardian angel of my life.
The brief half-hours that we can spend to-
gether thus and thus and thus" with a kiss
after each word, 'are better than a year of
commonplace comfort; our meal of bread
and haricots is better than a dinner at Big
mons in the golden days Of the Empire that
Is dead, when dining ranked among the fine
arts. Did you read my last article in the
hatnleeII ne asked IN cOTciu-
sion, with q little look which betrayed the
vanity of the successful Hummelshine, man
who believes that he mouHs and makes
public opinion.
did ! read it?:" cried Kathleen; why,
read every word you write! THERE'S nc
one so eloquent, no one else whose prose is
so full of poetry-except, perhaps, Victor
Hugo-but l like your styie betterthan his y
she added quickly, lest he should be Offend
ed; "only, Castor, sometimes as l read ]
fear that you are not wise, that those grand
glowing words Of yours-words thai burn
k vitrlol sometimes-may fire a tram
which will lead to an explosion, an explo.
sion in which we all may perish. Think of
all those people at Belleville and MeniI.
montant, and Montmarte and Clignancourt
many and many of them honest industri.
GUS souls, desiring only right and justice,
but others stepped in crime, misery, hatred
"a seething mass, fermenting in the corrup.
ton Of idleness and sin-leady to arise like
apoison cloud, and spread death and ruin
over the city. Do you remember last Sun.
day, when we went for a long walk in those
streets beyond the Boulevard Richard LIE.
nnirp There were faces in the crowd, Gas.
ton, that made me shudder, that made INF