Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1893-03-04
IA glass of wine,n said the voice.

aloud, I'm late now; no, thank your
The window of the pineapple" pub.
lie house. which had opened, closed
again, and Marcaille, proud of the victory
over himself, went whistling out OF the
village.
This was indeed courage. To refuse
glass of wine in such weather, when
he had stil three good leagues up the
mountain before him. But how light
he felt when he proudly resumed his
Journey. He felt light, but his bag
seemed heavier than ever. Never
had it weighed so upon his shoulders.
This rascally bag" he grumbled.
st is that letter. What can be in It'll
If it should be bank-nCtes, judged by
the weight, there should be fortune.
This rascally bagl"
And still grumbling, "The rascally
bag y and whistling at intervals, he went
down toward Pillemoine. Below him
stretched the valley, lost III the shadow,
dotted here and there with lights, for
the night was almost black. But he
knew every village and every house, and
in the blackness he recognized far away
the house of the ironmaster, with every
window lighted up. The joyous scene
Eyes, yes" murmured Marcaille.
There are some lucky people in the
world. They have money, all they want,
and with money one can do anything.
Just get little and it's like SNOWFALL,
it rolls up bigger and bigger. Some
have all and others have none. There
they are by the fire, and |, out here in
the snow. And what they spend for
THAR amusement tonight couldn't earn
in year. And yet they say God is
justr'
Why did these ideas come to him? He
had never envied any one. Why then did
he stop and gaze hercely at the lights
shining below him?
He shook himself together.
Forward, Marcaille," he cried, "for-
ward, march,
But the wind whistled and moaned In
the pine trees like crying baby, and
Marcaille passing in thought from the
ironmaster's house to his own, saw his
four little ones gathered around theil
mother, by scanty fire of fagots; he
saw them searching in the cupboard fol
u forgotten bread-crust, he saw then
going to sleep. all four on the same little
g wretched straw mattress. Oh! poverty
poverty, it is hard And to think thai
right here, in his bag
Registered letter." he thought. 'It
it should be bank bills! Imbecilel Ii
is for the Mayor. 1t comes from the
prefecture. 1t is probably only papers
and they register it and put on these big
seals for a grand effect Yes, buff il
should be bank bills"
His face flushed red at the thought tina
had crossed his mind. 81 haven't DRUM
anything either" he murmured, with
lie shudder.
10 He entered Pillemoine. At the doc
of peasants house he knocked. A win
e. dow opened.
10 "Oh 1t is Marcaille. Come inw
He went in.
ID "What aiIs your" asked the mar
t. "You're pale. Have a glass (
wine"
d. mo, no, thanks, said Marcaille, in
TT dull voice. In rebuckling his bag he ha
felt the registered letter brush the tips
lg his fingers.
Sc The man had taken glass, he held Il
bottle all ready to pour.
G "No, repeated Marcaile. And will
d out another word he hurried out. III
e. ends of his fingers seemed to burn at tt
IS remembrance of the red seals Ban
IS bills, as many as there were there, no
Iy many things one could buy with then
s. He began to whistle, his breath faile
Is him and he felt his legs tremble beneat
n him. Without intending to- withol
Ill wishing to, he had unouckled the ba;
N he had taken out the letter and in Il
T, half light reflected from the snow /
0, saw, like drops of blood, the five gre
lie red seals.
II Quickly he took the letter and felt
carefully to find out its secret. But IL
envelope was thick and hard; the pap
cracked under his fingers with lit
= dry noise that sounded formidably lou,
~ while the night wind whistled in b
y y ears:
II Thief thief! thief"
IA "Who said Marcaile was thief"
ho cried, with fierce gesture. Then, Sc
ing that he was alone, he came to hin
ID self and fell at the side of the roaC
4 crouchng, his head in his hands, al
n. murmuring:
he This is frightfull But have drum
he nothing"
to Slowly he re-opened the leather bG
lis and slipped in the letter; slowly he ros
it slowly still he crossed the road.
a seemed as If an implacable, invisib
u hand held him fast to this spot fro
a which he would have hurried ava
The road to Siane was straight befo
ID him; a half hour more and he shou
ne have finished his round, the letter Won
- be given to the Mayor and he would
safe.
,at Then he put the letter back in the b
a with an angry gesture, and marched
with measured step, striking with
Ie- heel and counting as he used to do
ct. the regiment wren the march was Ion
zone, two; one. two"
The regiment All how far away
p a was at that time. How poor they seem
nd 10 him now, the Brave joys Of the soldi
Ike which had made his heart beat for 70
teen years What fool he WINS to enli
ar. Fighting In the field, hard fare in
camp, suffering Ia the ambulance.