Alpena argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1893-1909, 1893-08-30

recognizing the major; 1--WE heard
that you werekilled in Egypt"
rs Mademe LIE Nome living in
Marseilles?" he asked, with ire
mendous effort to appear calm.
The man hesitated.
Five days ago, sir, she died. She
was buried yesterday at st. Gervais. "
De Beaurepaire heard him finish
the sentence, and then fell sense
less to the earth.
When he recovered, he found
himself stretched on couch in a
room he well remembered.
He lay there pale, motionless,
and full of thought-not including
in vague, useless repinings, but
evidently absorbed in the arrange
ment Of some plan-for many hours
after the domestic summoned to his
assistance. had been dismissed.
In the evening he left the house,
and directed his steps towards the
Church of st. Gervais, ascertained
from the beatle the name of the
cemetery in which Madame lie
Moine had been buried.
The same night he reused up the
guardian of the cemetery and offer
ed him two thousand francs to open
the coffin of the deceased lady, and
allow him to gaze for FIVE minutes
on her features.
The sum was tempting, but the
man was either scrupulous or fear
full. He hesitated for long time.
Eugene's tears and passionate en-
tries, added to the sight of the
money, finally prevailed; and armed
with spade, pickaxe and lantern,
the pair set out on their strange
errand.
1t was bright moonlight night.
Not a word was exchanged on
either side. De Beaurepaire's
thoughts had travelled back to that
night when the same bright orb,
which now guided him and his
companion through the Macy wind
ings of the cemetery, had witnessed
the chaste vows of two lovers be-
meath the fragrant orange tree.
The gravedigger silently pointed
out newly raised mound. Silent
ly, yet vigorously, they both set to
work, and in an incredibly short
space of time lifted the coffin on to
the green sward beside the grave.
With a few blows of the mallet and
chIsel the led flew open, and the
pale moonlight CLEANED OH the ashy
countenance Of the corpse, untouch-
ed by time or decay.
De Beaurepalre fell on his knees
besides it, and raising it in his arms,
gazed down sadly on that loved
countenance. Suddenly the memory
of their last parting, Of her last
words, flashed across his bewildered
brain, and winding his arms around
her he pressed upon her dead lips
that kiss which she had fondly said
would recall her to life. The next
instant he was seized with "a fit of
trembling; then starting up, still
holding up the corpse i'll his arms,
he fled away over the tombs with a
cry that thrilled through the heart
of his terrified companion.
The gravedigger started in pur-
suit; but De Beaurdpaire, in spite
of his heavy burden, ran with such
supernatural swiftness, besides be-
ing favored with the inequalities Of
the ground, that he was soon lost
to view. All that his unhappy ac-
complete could do was to return to
the grave, horror-stricken at his
crime, replace the coffin, and re-
move, as far as possible, every trace
of the sacrilege.
He went home, and awaited what
daylight might bring forth with
feelings far from enviable. But
the next day came, weeks, months,
years rolled on, and nothing occur
red to justify the grave apprehen-
sions he felt for the result of that
memorable nights work.
At regular intervals, the Wild
over, Monsieur lie Moline, came to
pray over his wife's grave, and to
hang garlands on her tomb. At
such times he was stealthily but
curiously watched by the gravedig-
ger, who remembered, with qualms
Of remorse and apprehension, that
the mourner was weeping over an
empty coffin.
Five years afterwards namely,
in the year 1908 the gravedigger
lay upon his deathbed.
The doctor informed him that
any worldly affairs requiring his at
tention had better be despatched
forthwith. The heaviest sin upon his