The herald., 1893-07-31
A GENERALS LEGACY.

jacques Desmoulins was once soldier
In the French army, but having allied
himself with the republican forces he
was spotted by the secret police and
thrust into La Conciergerie, one of the
oldest prisons in the empire.
He had been in cell No. 18 for so many
years that he had almost forgotten why
{ he was there, and 1t was only now and
then that tho cruel injustice which had
been done him presented itself with any
feelings which gave rise to rebellion.
He had never once stepped from the
damp cell into which he had been thrust,
how long ago he knew not, for In that
place there was no means for counting
the passage Of time. Day and night were
nearly the same to him, excepting that
when he heard the evening bell at 8
o'clock he generally rolled himself in the
one old blanket and stretched his limbs
upon q rough cot in the corner Of the
cell. The faint streak of sunlight, which
barely found an entrance through the
little barred window which looked out
over desolate plain in the rear Of the
prison, told him that without it was
daylight, and accordingly he would arise
and sit with his face between his hands
and arms upon his knees until his at
tendant brought his morning meal.
Il After this had been eaten he passed
the time until noon drawing pictures
with stick upon the graveled floor Of
g the cell, working out problems and now
and then composing few words Of
song. A nap in the afternoon, with q
view Of the guards as they were called
out for parade at o'clock, which could
+ be seen from his window, comprised the
+ monotonous features of each day, and
with few exceptions they occurred reg
ularly with nothing to break the same
ness.
: Jacques Desmoulins was at times filled
with o strong desire to escape from the
prison, but when he looked at the heavy
i. stone walls, the huge iron door and re-
membered that q guard was always kept
over the place the idea Of such thing
appeared 30 improbable that he was
Obliged to give it up. However, he
passed many hours trying to solve this
question, but as one plan after another
presented itself it was discarded. There
was still faint glimmer Of hope in the
breast Of Jacques Desmou1ins, and often
he said to himself, "Some day ! will
leave these cruel walls and be free
man again" That day was destined to
come, but the circumstances leading to
1t were of nature Of which the poor
prisoner never dreamed. ssai'
A.. e. 4. -fy
one forenoon looking at the walls and
low ceiling he wondered what the story
would be could these cold stones speak
of what had passed within their sight.
He had allowed his thoughts to run in
this channel for awhile, and the pictures
which his imagination drew would have
offered more than one subject to the
story writers Of today. A strong desire
came over him to learn something Of the
former occupant Of cell No. 13. and he
was planning a way by which to ap-
proach the attendant when he heard the
key grating in the iron door, and mo-
ment later 1t swung open and Jean Ca
i bother entered with tray on which was
some water, bread and meat. After he
had placed his burden on the table he
turned toward the prisoner, as though
j, awaiting some remarks from him, for
! having brought food to No. Is for SO
, many years he felt as though he was en-
= titled to q certain familiarity with the
occupant which no one had right to
I; dispute.
"Monsieur," he said, noticing the
khoughtful face before him, styou appear
troubled. Are you unwell? If SO, Marie
will cook You something different from
this" pointing to the tray at his right.
mo, Cabotier, am not unwell, and
Marie need not trouble herself, although
you are very kind. Can you stop few
moments and talk with me?"
IT see no harm, monsieur. Yours is
the last cell visit, and all the others
have received their rations. And what
IL 1t you would talk with me aboutY'
j "How long, Carbotier, have you been
At La Conciergeriew
"How long, monsieur? Why, ever since
/ can remember. When I first looked
beyond my mothers arms, it was at
these walls, and they have ever since
been my home."
"Then you must remember those who
have occupied this cell before I was
brought here"
Jean Cabotier remained in thought for
, fewmoments. Hewas trying to recall
some faint memory Of the past, but there
seemed q broken link in the connection.
at last he turned to the prisoner.
Monsieur, I do not remember of any
one in cell No. IS before you came. l
never visited it, yet believe some great
general was once here when Marie's IA
kher was warden. Perhaps she can tell
who It was. There can be no harm,
imonsieur, and II she knows viii bring
Sou the story tonight"
After Jean CAbotier had gone the
prisoner remained seated on the little
stool plunged in deep thought. BE had
tprgotten the tray Of food on the table,
% engrossed was he in the subject in
troduoed by the few words of his attend
ant. ssta4Fi
"A great general" he said to himself,
"and once he looked upon these cruel
walls with feelings the same as mine.
Yes, might have been q great general
today were it not for La Conciergerie,
but, alas, there is no hope for me nowl
They say that the revolution is at an
md and We have failed. France kneels