Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1893-11-30

ANY Gn1ng new! repeated man
in u group that stood ON the bridge
watching the burning OF the Lyric
Thea ire, as if it had been a free rep
reservation, waiting for the Chatelet
TO take fire on the other side of the
vide lulrid street, momentarily expect
ing the dark towers of Nore Dame
to yomit fiames-''anythins new? Yes,
we live in stirring times. There is
always something new. The Versailais
have taken the Pantheon, the strong
hold of the Commune. just as the Fed
erals We're going to blow it up Mil
iere has been shot. That is new
Have YOU heard of the massacre of
the DOminicanS? That is new, And
Seriz:er has taken to his heels-Seri-
zier. the colonel of the 101st battalion;
Serizier. the hero Of Issy and Chatil-
lon The colonel is gone, and the bat
talon is scattered
The DOminicans! At that name
Kathleen drew closer to the group.
as near as she could to the speaker.
gazing at him with wild wide-open
eyes. The Dominicans. Almost the
last words she had heard from her
husbands lips We're an indignant pro-
test against the in-trea tment of these
good monks
| Il would shed my last drop of blood
rather than that a hair of Father
Captier's head should be- hurt by those
DEVILS" he had said a few minutes
| before he left the house.
| She went close up to the man who
had spoken, and who was now staring,
open-mouthed, at the burning theatre.
! She laid her hand upon his arm.
| us that tr'ue?' she asked. HAS
there been any harm done to the Do
minican Fathers of the school of AL
bert the Great? Ny husband was at
school there, and he loves them as
if they We're his own flesh and blood"
Your husbands sons will have to
find another school, cheyenne" answer
ed the man, with a cynical air. The
Dominican school is sacked, and the
shaven-polls have been given their pass
port for PARADISE
'Murdered.'
Every one of them. Shot down like
pheasants in a battue, this afternoon.
yonder in the Avenue d'Italie," point
ing far away to the south. There is
nothing left of the nest or of the
magpies, cheyenne"
She claSped her hands before her
face, and reeled against the parapet
bridge. Nobody noticed her, or cared
for her. The roof Of the theater was
falling ina shower of burning frag-
mpntS blown In n apl- fS,.
Like a fiery rain. On the other side of
the river the glare, the smoke, the
stencil of burning were intensifying
with every moment.
"Wfll there be anything left of Paris
but dust and ashes when the sun
rises?" asked one of the bystanders.
Kathleen leant against the bridge,
motionless, speechless, paralyzed by
fear. She tried to think. But for
some moments thought was impossible;
her brain was ciouded, benumbed,
frozen. Then came reflection. CASTOR
had said that he would die to save
them, fight for them to the death, these
good fathers; and they had all been
murdered, and Castor was missing
He who had given her such faithful
love had abandoned her to desolation
and despair.
Was it likely that he would SO aban-
don her, unless higher duty claimed
him? Was it likely that he would leave
her for q space of four days in ignor-
ance of his fate, unless he were a
priSoner-or unless he were dead?
Paris reeked with blood, every street
was the scene of murder, and he was
gone from her-gone with the rest of
those victims of whom the crowd
spoke with such seeming ightness,
while it looked on at the burning of
the city as at the fireworks which
conclude some grand fete.
They were> waiting for the conf1a-
grafton to burst from yonder mighty
pile, from painted window, and tower
and battlement, from nave and tran
sept, from cerestory and roof: Notre
Dame was 10 be the bouquet
Tell me, sir" said Kathleen, in a
hoarse half-strangled voice, twas there
) any one else killed in the Avenue
dItalie--any one besides the Domini-
cans-any one who was in company
with the good fathers?'
eyes, there were a few understrap-
pers, / believe, servants of the school"
''NO one else?"
"What do / know? The news has
passed from mouth to mouth. There
lis 10 official bulletin, cheyenne. The
Commune keeps these things quiet. 1t
is only hearsay."
4 Only hearsay! A ray of hope lit up
the blackness of her soul. Only hear
say! And how many wild stories had
been told in Paris within the last
week, how horrors had been lifted
about which had been but bubbles of
foul imagining! The story of the
bodies found in the church Of Saint
Laurent, for instance. The desecrated
corpses exposed at the cburch-door, the
supposed victims Of priestly crime; foul
fictions invented to stimulate the popu-
lace to carnage and spoliation.
Is it far to the Avenue d'Italie?'
she asked
The bystanders answered careleSsly,
one saying one thing, one another,
each and all absorbed in the awful
rapture of the scene, and caring not
at all for individual needs and feelings.
One o'clock struck from the clock
tower of Notre Dame. Kathleen was
footsore, faint, her eyes burning with
fever. her mouth parched with thirst.
She looked down at the river, but the
stream seemed to be running with