Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1893-12-22
ASTORYOF BLOOD.
DY NJ. L. BRADDoN.
CHAPTER v.-CoNTINUED.

CHAPTER V.-CONTINUED.
But this did not constrain Durand to lay
aside his gouges and chisels. Before his
marriage he had brought home TO his little
workshop some fine pieces of old wood, col
lected in various hooks and corners of Paris
an oak panel from the wreckage of
church, an old walnut sidebOard, thick,
heavy, clumsy, but O, so well seasoned and
richly colored, from sixteenth century
house in the Marais-and with treasures
such as these to his hand Philip Durand had
no lack of work. He had undertaken
Tnlgnum opus in the shape Of a sideboard,
which in design and workmanship was TO
surpass anything that had yet been done in
the factory where he was chief workman.
All his knowledge of the masterpieces in
carved oak, ali his taste and skill were
brought to bear upon this piece of furniture.
His long Sunday afternoons in the Louvre,
his study Of tie art-books in the Imperial
Library, all helped him in his handicraft.
Jacques Mollin, his friend the painter, was
at his elbow to make suggestions while the
drawings for the sideboard were in progress.
The mighty dead had their part in the work.
This tangle of fruit and flowers on the cor
nice owed something to Van Huysum This
heap Of wild fowl and hares, flung as it
were hap-hazard against lower panel, was
a SOUVENIR of Snyders. Everywhere the
mind of the artist informed the hanl of the
craftsman. And the sideboard was as the
apple of Philip Durand's eye. 1t was sure
to bring him money, which he cared for only
for the sake Of his wife and his home; it
might bring him fame, which he valued for
his own sake, and still Iuore for Rose, who
would be proud by and W to say, Il did not
marry common workman"
She was q gentleman's daughter, the
daughter of an officer in the English army,
man of good birth and refined surround
ings. This man of the people ncverignored
that fact when he thought of his wife. He
wanted to atone to her for the sacrifice she
had made; he never thought of her as the
arisette, earning her living by the labor OF
her hands; but as Captain O'Hara's daugh-
ter, born and bred as lady, STOPPING from
her high estate to become mechanics
wife.
How happy were those brief Gin. pses Of
home, those brief hours with gouge and
chisel, beside the hearth, while Rose stood
by and watched the slow careful work-the
chiselling of feather, the rounding of a
peach, the minute touches that marked the
scales of fish!
ruled without, while earnings were nil, and
the strictest economy was needed least
| these days of scarcity should exhaust the
| little capital amassed with such miracles Of
prudence and self-denial; even now, with
The enemy within sight of the walls, with
the future Of France wrapped in gloom,
there was gladness in this humble home on
the second floor in the Rue Git le C9ur, and
the little dinner or supper Of bread ana
| salad, the morsel of Lyons sausage, or the
wine-sOup was as a feast at this board,
where Love ever sat as the chief guest,
smiling, blind to misfortune, careless Of
| days to come.
Above-stars, in the journalists home,
| Love also reigned, and here too, was the
! deep happiness of p rfect union; but with
| CASTOR and Kathleen life was less calm
| than in the Durand household. CASTOR was
| stepped TO the lips in the fever of politics,
| was blown hither and thither, his soul toss
| ed and ag.tated by every breath of the pub
| lie whirwind. He had friends here, there,
| and everywhere among the extreme Repub-
| lean arty; he believed in Rochefort, he
worshipped Flour1ns, that hot headed en-
| lhusiast who just at this time was in COM
mand of five lattaliOns Of the National
| Guard, the beloved of Bellevile and Menil-
moHtant, leader at whose beat of drum
| that seething populace were ready to rise rs
one man.
The Red Flag was loud in its reproaches
| against existing authorities. The Red Flag
| lauded Blanqui and the BlanqustS, and was
| just now at the height of popularity, rival
ling Felix Pyat's paper LIE Combat, and
Blanqui's Pdtrie en- Danger; and vet the
day was to come when the Pdtric en- Danger
would cease to charm, and the Red Flag
would not be half red enough-would per-
| lsh rs An etfete rag too tame, too soft for
the age of anarchy and death. The day was
to come when every color would be too pale
for Paris, save the deep dark hue of blood.
But at this time Paris had not yet begun
TO suppress its newspapers. The Red Flag
was popular, and CASTOR Mortemar was the
most popular among its contributors. He
was paid literally for his work; for in this
day Of doubt and uncertainty the poorest
could spare a couple Of sous for papert that
| told how France was being misgOverned,
and called upon the supreme sovereign peo-
ple-the Mrabeaus and Robespierres, and
DantOns and Marats of MenilmOntant to
arise in their might, and steer the tempest
driven ship to n safe harbor-the smooth
roadstead of Communism, Collectivism,
|
his own master, no hereditary nobility, 10
landowners, no millionares, universal
| level of blue blouses and cheap wines.
And as weeks and months wore on, and
autumn began to have wintry aspect, and
party rose against party, faction against fac
| ton, and agitation and fever were in the
very air men breathed, Kathleen's breast
was futtered by many fears. In Gaston's
absence she was never free from nervous
apprehensions, from morbid imagnings. 1t
was only in those brief Intervals when he
was ut home, sitting at his desk, writing
passionate vehement protests against this
or that, prophecies of evil, wild suggestions
for wilder action, bending over his paper
with pale nervous face and flashing eyes,
| dipping his pen into the Ink as II 1t were a
stiletto stuck in the heart Of the foe, writ
| ing as if Satan himself guided his pan, or
snatching some hurried meal while the
| printers devil ran of with the copy, to re-
| turn an hour after with the proof-it was
only then, when he was there, and she could
| stand beside him as he wrote and Irvine her