Iuka reporter., 1893-10-19

The fortunes of France are on the verge
of ruin, and you have no other care than
to realize your future To morrow the
enemy will be at our gates, and you strap
up your valise and fly like coward 1t
was not enough to have plunged your
family into mourning and despair You
must intlct this shame, too, upon themr
A quick blush rose to his forehead A
| light shone in his eyes
Pardon monsieur, pardon. These
are very grand words; it seems to me.
You are too young and am too old for
us to understand each other. | am not
running away. | am going away. There
is nothing here to keep me. Paris does
not interest me. 1t is only just that she
should be punished. AS for my family,
they are safe enough from the dangers
of war, and | do not see why | should
be forbidden to seek for myself, in Brus-
sells, or in London or Florence, the
peace and security they enjoy in Brit
tany.Y
My heart was sick and disguised I
turned away, whom suddenly Jean
started with surprise. Listen" he
said | listened, and heard a strange
music, the tones of which, vague at first
and indistinct, grew louder and seemed
to be coming toward us. | looked, too,
as listened. | saw beyond the bridge
of Solferino an immense crowd, who
came on singing. 1t was slow, grave
chant, almost religious, and had nothing
in common with the bursts of song to
which we were accustomed. Jean
leaned against the parapet | saw that
nc was very pale. In the mean
time, the confused mass approached
nearer and nearer, and became less
and less confused Now, / recog-
lied the chant de Ia Bret0gne aud then
sound of the bi3aios; the gardeS mobiles
of Finisterre were entering Paris. The
tuft or ermine in their military caps, the
gray cloth uniforms, the knapsaclS
strapped behind, tell all about them as
they advance with correct and firm
step, marching by platoons and filling
the whole width OF the qfai. AT their
head on horseback rides the chief of the
battalion; behind him, the chaplain and
two lieutenauts. Tho head of the cell
umn is now only II few steps from us. 1t
is my turn to be startled. look at jean
His hand falls upon mine. "My father!
My two brothersl" he says in low
voice. And he secs, passing before him,
4 under their most striking forms, the eter-
nal truths that he has so long disowned
OF forgotten-G God, country, duty and
family The long pageant Of his honest
and noble days dedies before him singing
as the troops go by. gave him the last
! blow. On one q the balconies of the
| Qa a have just seen his mother
E'You unfortunate fellow" | exclaim.
''You said there were no longer any wo-
men. Look, there is one; 90 you recog-
nize her?"
Madame de Thommeray waves her
handkerchief, the Breton chant redoubles
in fervor, and the chief of the battalion,
with the courtesy of knightly gentle
man, bows in his saddle and salutes her
with his sword Mute and motionless,
with sad eyes and dry eyelids, Jean seems
turned to stone. | leave him to the
mercy of God.
The next day, in the courtyard of
the Louvre, the Commandant de Thorn
meray called the roll of his battalion.
The call finished, he passed down the
ranks, when soldier stepped out and
said
"Commaudant, one of your men was
forgotten"
What is your nameg"
My name is Jean, answered the vol
unteer, lowering his eyes.
''Who are yous"
ga man who has lived badly"
"What do you wisha"
''To die we'll"
"Are you rich or poor2"
yesterday possessed an ill-getten
fortune. have resigned it voluntarily.
| have now only my musket and my
! knapsack."
"That is we'll" And with a gesture
he ordered the young man to return to
the ranks There was long silence. The
Commandant had again taken his place
in front of the battalion. "Jean de
Thommerayln he called out. A manly
voice answered: "Presentp-[[ From the
! l., e r. @.