The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-04-01

ing strength; but Honore was failing.
Pierre saw this and rushed upon him
with feeble but furious energy, striving
to beat down his guard. he had sue
ceeded, aud Honore was at his mercy.
The next breath there was sharp cry
of terror, the voice of woman in utter
distress, and strange, dull rushing
sound followed by a crash.
The duelists were swept from their
feet and dashed headlong, d horse
tumbled over them and the fragments of
a small vehicle were scattered around.
In the midst of this wreck thus hurled
upon the contestants a young woman
rose to her feet and stood, beautiful, dis.
heveled, frightened almost to madness
but unhurt. It was Marie de Noyant.
The horse, after falling and rolling
over, struggled to its feet, and, with
parts of its harness still clinging to it
and trailing and whirling about, ran
frantically away through the woods in
the direction of the town
Overcome for moment, the seconds
and surgeons stood staring and motion
less, but they were men of nerve, and
needed but time to take breath and
pull themselves together before spring
ing forward to the assistance of Honore
and Pierre, who lay as if dead ON the
ground where the shock of the collision
had flung them.
Marie de Noyant had arisen early that
morning to keep promise she had made
to visit a sick and extremely aged creole
woman who lived in n small house back
in the woods on the road to Jorilon
river. Feeling oppressed with what had
occurred between her and Pierre, she or
dered her servant to fetch her pony and
and cart and drove away alone before
the rest of the household were MP. She
left the servant behind, wishing to be
entirely free to commune with her heart
and to devise if possible some means of
softening Pierre's disappointment. While
she feared that something dreadful
might come of the terrible passion of the
young man, she did not dream that
even while she drove slowly along the
dim road under the trees, a duel was in
progress between him and Honore
Chauvin. Her pony, a stout, gentle ami
NAL, logged quietly forward in the sand
between the tufts of Spanish bayonet
and thickets of bay bushes; overhead
the pine trees moaned and the grand
magnolias rustled their stiff, glossy
foliage.
Suddenly three or four goats, part of a
herd that had been turned out to Craze
and browse in the woods, leaped out of "A
little tangle of tall wild grass hard by
and dashed across the road close in front
of the pony. Marie at tho time was alb
sorbed in thought and held the lines with
slack hand. The pony took fright. as
the gentlest horse sometimes will. and
whirled about and, almost upsetting the
cart, ran away through the forest as fast
as his legs could carry him The move
ment whisked the lines out of Marie's
grasp. and SO she lost control. Discover
ing his freedom, and crazed with fright,
the hitherto gentle little animal now be-
came savage and terrible beast, reck-
less of everything, giving no attention to
road or direction.
The reader will understand at once
how the catastrophe came about at the
dueling ground. for the pony, accident
ally heading itself that way, ran madly
and blindly upon the combatants. II
was found dead a half mile from the spot
with Pierre's rapier sheathed to the hill
in It's breast. thad struck the weapon
point Just as it was about to dart into the
heart of Honore Chauyin-
The strangest part of the whole adven
ture was that Marie escaped without
even the slightest hurt.
The young men were borne to the
nearest house, where for many hours
they lay side by side insensible. Honore's
! hurts were nearly fatal, and Pierre wa.
crippled for life. In the course of theil
convalescence they both received the
| 10 NJ
before they were able to leave the hocs<
their friendship had been restored
Aunt Clothilde,. a very old colorei
woman, who speaks nothing but the
French patois Of the creole country, ii
the only survivor of the slaves owned by
Marie de Noyant's father at the time o.
the duel. You may, if you will visi
her in her little house on Hospital stree
in New Orleans, have the story, that
have here sketched, told to you in tn,
most picturesque way, and it Away
ends with a minute description of how
beautiful Marie looked in her whit.
wedding gown when she and Honor,
| Chauvin were married.
In the course of frequent and Ions
sojourps in the old French region of tn,
south have made note of many roman
tic, odd or otherwise interesting storie
of dueling, but none of them seems Il
me more strange than this told me b,
Aunt Clothilde.
Last winter visited the spot wher'
the duel was fought, and while I triet
to imagine the scene as it was sixty
years ago mocking bird quavered it
incompatible flute score from a wa,
myrtle bush on the edge of flower,
thicket hard by. What peaceful spo
it was!-Maurice Thompson in New
York Ledger.