Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-10-29
villianous winter sky in which

rolled heavy, leaden colored clouds
"a low, angry, hateful sky.
At the door of the wine shop the
young duke stood motionless with
his chassepot slung over his shoul-
der, his cap over his eyes and his
numb hands in the pockets of his
red pantaloons, shivering under his
sheepskin. He had abandoned him
self to gloomy thoughts soldier
of defeat--and looked with dull eye
on the line of hills lost in the mist,
from which at every minute there
shot out with loud report the white
puff of smoke from Krupp gun.
All at once it struck him he was
hungry.
He knelt ON one knee and took
from his haversack. that lay near
him against the wall, big piece of
commissariat bread; then, as he had
lost his knife, he bit it and ate it
slowly.
After a few mouthfuls. however,
he had enough of it; the bread was
hard and had a bitter taste. Nor
would there be any fresh bread until
it was served out next day, and that
only in case the commissary should
be in good humor. Well 1t was
sometimes pretty rough was this life
of soldier, and then-lo and be-
hold The began to think of what he
used to call his hygienic breakfasts,
when on the morning after too heat
ing supper he sat at the window on
the ground floor of the Cafe Anglais
and ordered--the merest t1ifes--a
cutletand scrambled eggs aux pointes
d'asperges, while the waiter, know
ing his habits, placed on the table
cloth and uncorked with care fine
bottle of old Leoville, lying softly in
its wicker basket. Confound it all
Those were good old times and he
would never get used to this bread
of affliction.
In a moment of impatience the
young man flung the rest of his
bread into the mud.
At this very instant soldier came
out Of the wineshop; he stopped,
picked up the piece of bread, walked
a few steps off, wiped it on his
sleeve and began to devour it greed
iy.
Henri de Hardilnont was already
ashamed of his action and looked
with pity upon the poor devil who
showed such a good appetite. He
was great. tall, ungainly lad, with
feverish eyes and a hospital beard,
and so thin that his shoulder blades
stuck out under the folds of his well
worn cloak.
"You are pretty hungry, COM
rade," said De Hardimont. approach
ing the soldier
You may see that, replied the
other with his mouth full
II beg your pardon. then; If had
known that it could have done you
any good i would not have flung
away my bread
No harm DONE" said the soldier;
II am not so easily put off my ap-
petite"
mo matter" said the duke; II
did what was wrong and regret it.
But ] do not want you to carry away
a bad impression of me, and as
have some old cognac in my flask,
by Jove, Wen AMP together"
The man had finished eating. The
duke and he took a mouthful
Of fbrandy-acquaintanceship was
formed.
"And your name2" said the soldier.
''Hardimont," replied the duke,
suppressing his title, "And yoursa"
jean Victor. l have only just |
been sent back to the company. i
am just out of the hospital. / was
at Chatillon. Ah it is a
place, is the hospital;
there the doctor gives you excellent
horse soup. But had only a
the major signed my dis
charge, and so much the worse, be-
gin again to die of hunger. For you
may believe me or not, comrade, /
have been hungry all my life. just
rs am now"
The declaration was appalling, ut
tered as it was to a voluptuary who
nad just detected himself regretting
YO W W ~ XyNYY