The herald., 1893-11-29

confusion National guards, civilians
and gardes mobiles were walking
about. Deputations passed, trembling,
on their way to the marshal's house.
Hornus saw nothing, heard nothing.
He hurried up the street, muttering to
himself:
ITO take my flag from me! Come
now, can this be possible? Let him
give the Prussians what is his own-his
silver plate and his gilded coaches-brt
this is mine. 1t is my honor. l forbid
any one to touch it,"
His sentences were broken up by
his hurried pace and his stammering
tongue; but, after ALL the old fellow
had plan, a clear and fixed purpose to
take his flag, to carry it into the midst
of the regiment, and with any who
would follow him to fall upon the Prus-
slams and destroy them utterly. When
he reached the colonel's house, he was
not even allowed to enter. The colonel
too, was furious and would admit no
one, but Hornus did not understand
this. He wept, he swore, he tried to
push past the orderly.
my fag l want my fag!' he
shouted.
Finally window was thrown open.
''It is you, Hornus?"
eyes, colonel--I''-
"All the flags are at the arsenal.
You have only to go there for re-
ceipt."
"A receipt--for what?"
sit is the marshal $ ORDER"
"But, colonel''----
"Gi-m--peace!" and down went
the window.
Old Hornus staggered like drunken
man.
"A receipt. A receipt, he repeated
mechanically. Finally he went off
with but one clear idea in his head
that his flag was at the arsenal. and
that, come what would, he must see it
again.
The arsenal gates were opened wide
for the passage of the Prussian wagons
which were ranged in the yard. A chill
passed over Hornus as he entered. All
the other ensigns were there and so or
60 officers, silent and heartbroken.
With the somber wagons standing in
the rain and the groups of men with
barred heads, it was like a funeral. All
the flags of Bazaine's army were lying
in heap on one corner of the muddy
pavement. Nothing could be sadder
than those strips of bright hued silk,
that debris of golden fringe and carved
sticks, all that glorious paraphernalia
thrown ON the ground soiled with mud
and rain.
An officer picked them up, one by
one, and as his regiment was called
each ensign went forward to get re-
ceipt. Hard and unsympathetic. two
Prussian officers watched the registra-
ton.
And you are going away thus 10,
sacred, glorious MISUNDERSTANDING
your rents, trailing sadly over the pave
ment, like birds with broken wings!
You are going away with the shame OF
beautiful things soiled and each of you
will carry away little of France. In
your worn folds the sunshine of the
long marches still fingers. In your
bullet holes you preserve the memory
of the unknown dead, fallen perchance
beneath the banner, struck -
Hornus. you--they are calling you.
Go get your receipt.
There was the Rag before him. 1t
was really his, tho most beautiful, the
most mutilatsd of tlcmGll, and seeing
it once moro be seemed to be standing
again on tic railroad bank. He heard
the balls sing, tho osholls burst and the
colonel's voice, ITO fhe flag, boysn'
His 22 comrades lay there on the
ground, and he, the twenty third, was
springing forward in his turn to seize it,
to lift the poor flag, tottering for want of
a sustaining arm. Ali he swore that
day to defend it, to guard it till death.
And now--the thought of all this sent
every drop of blood in his body to his
head. Maddened, desperate, he sprang
upon the Prussian officer, tore from his
grasp his beloved ensign and tried to
lift it very high, very upright, crying,
"To the A. but his voice died in his
throat. The staff trembled and slipped
from his fingers. In that weary air,
that deadly air that weighed SO heavily
ON the surrendered town, no flag could
wave, no pride could live, and old Hor-
nus fell, crushed. -Alphonse Daudet.