The Yakima herald. [volume] (North Yakima, W.T. [Wash.]) 1889-1914, 1891-05-28

H
"God protect UsI" muttered the mother.
''There he comesl that's heT"
"What2 That tall man on the other
side of the street? Well, he's splendidly
handsome, II ever any man was, but
Iwith q slight shudderl there's some.
thing in his face that frightens me,
though l don't know why"
"Ah! do you feel like that too? Wen,
it's very odd, but every one that looks
at him says the same. The first time
ever saw him l felt just as I used to feel
when l was child over the pictures Of
those dreadful enchanted men in the
fairy tales who, when midnight came,
turned into wolves or tigers or devils,
and devoured every one within reach"
No one who knew them would have
laid an overvivid imagination to the
charge Of the two worthy burghers who
were gossiping thus in the main street
Of Marseilles; yet this man had strange
ly impressed them both, and the impress
sion Cfor which there seemed to be nc
possible reason) was exactly the same in
both cases.
Meanwhile the subject of their talk
o tall, fine looking man in the prime oi
life, wearing handsome though rather
theatrical Hungarian dress, which sci
off his noble figure to full advantage
went slowly along the opposite sidewalk,
with his head bent down as il in deer
thought, and seemingly unconscious Of
the admiring glances shot at him by
many passing ladies.
Suddenly he raised his head as IL he
had come to some final decision on the
subject that was occupying his thoughts.
As he did so his eyes met those Of tiny
girl who was being carried past him in
the arms Of q stout market woman. A
moment before the child had been laugh.
ing gleefully and playing with the fringe
of her mothers shawl, but as she encoun-
tered the piercing glance Of those large,
black, fiery eyes, she trembled and began
to cry.
"God protect usI' muttered the moth.
er, hastily signing the cross over the
shuddering infant; "that man must
surely have the evil eyeI"
As the stranger passed on two men
WIN were chatting at the door Of large
stone house turned to look at him.
"If that fellow were only o poor mar
I'd hire him for q model this very day,
said the taller Of the two. q distinguished
French artist, in tone Of irrepressible
enthusiasm. "His face is worthy Of Van.
dyke"
Worthy Of The Police Gazette, you
mean," growled his companion, who wal
no other than the project Of police him.
self. MARK my words, friend Victor,
that man will commit some horrible
crime one day or other, II indeed he
hasn't done It alreadyF'
And who then was this man who
seemed to inspire such q universal feel.
ing Of mingled horror and admiration?
This was the very question which
every one in Marseilles was asking, and
which no one seemed able to answer.
All that was Is yet known Of the stran.
ger was that he had arrived from Paris
o few weeks before, attended by half a
dozen fierce looking fellows in the dress
Of Hungarian foresters; that he had
gone straight to the largest hotel and
taken a whole suite Of rooms to himself
at cost worthy Of Dumas Count Of
Monte Cristo, in the name Of "PrinceKe.
retsenyi, Janosz castle, Southern Transyl.
vania," and that at q public ball two
days after his arrival he had signalized
his entrance into local society by feat
that made him ct once the talk Of the
whole town,
Among the guests at the ball was a
certain dragoon captain, Louis Du Val
by name, q noted bully and duelist, who
was always on the lookout for q quar-
rel He was standing amid circle Of
his admirers when the Transylvanian
prince entered. The sudden introduc-
ton Of this superbly handsome stranger
by such renowned historical name o.
that Of KeretsenH sent buzz Of excite
ment through the whole room, but Capt.
Du Val laughed scornfully, and observed
IN o tone evidently meant to reach the
princes ears that these Hungarian
counts and princes often carried all
their estate on their backs, and that
their title deeds were sometimes to be
found in the register Of the nearest
prison.
Scarcely were the insulting words ut
tered, when Keretsenyi stepped quickly
up 10 the speaker, and dealt him slap
in the face with his open hand that
echoed all around the room like pistol
shot.
Such commencement could have but
one result hepreliminaries of meet
ing were soon adjusted, and next morn
ing the redoubtable Capt. Du Val, one Of
the best swordsmen in the whole south
Of France, was borne home speechless
and desperately wounded from the last
duel that he was ever to fight.
II knew from the very first how II
would be-" said Du val's second, telling
the story that evening 10 his friends at
the club. "When my man stepped for.
ward tho Transylvanian gave him one