Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1894-01-26


place, but you are welcome. And / can
give you cup of coffee and bit of bread;
it is not so bad as in the SIEGE"
Not so bad? the streets were not drown
ed in blood them" said Kathleen. mo, you
are very good, but am not tired" with
CHASTITY smile. IL will go and look at the
corner where he fell. Stay, what did they
do with the bodies?"
''rhe Versaillais came an hour after and
carried them all away"
"Where-where?" gasped Kathleen.
But the woman could not tell her. Among
so many wagon-loads of dead, who could
tell, who cared, whittier one particular batch
had been taken? Perhaps they had all been
carried to that gaping chasm behind the
chapel at Pere Dachaise, into which the
Federal corpses were flung en- mGSSe after
the battle of Asnieres. The sempstress had
seen that common grave, sixty corpses wait
ing for recognition, sight to freeze ones
blood.
Kathleen left her, and walked YEARLY to
that side street, a narrow shabby street
doors and windows were all closed, most of
the houses had an evil aspect There was
no one standing about whom she could Ques-
ton.
A few PAGES from the corner of the street,
at the foot of a lamp-post, she cav the spot
where the victim had fallen. A pool of
blood had stained the summer dust 1t was
dry now, but she could see how the corpse
had lain in blood and mire. The figure had
printed its outline on the ground. There
was no other trace of the massacre about.
One victim, and one only, had fallen here.
She llnelt beside that awful stain; she
watered il with her passionate tears, the
first she had shed throughout her pilgrim
age of two and-twenty hours. The church
clocks were striking four. Yesterday morn
ing at six she had left the Rue Git le Ceur.
And now she had come 10 the end OF her
tourney; she had found her Testng-place.
She knelt alone, unnOticed, with her hands
clasped oyersher face, praying, first for her
beloved. for the repose of his soul 4; then fol-
lowed prayer less pure, less Christian, for
revenge upon his murderer, the destroyer Of
her happiness.
Who was his murderer? Not tie blind
mad mob, not even the deyilish woman, the
petroleuse, dashed into crime and murder
by the scourges Of insurgent tyrants. Seri-
zier, the man in authority, the wretch who
brought those good fathers from their peace
full seclusion TO the gaol and the shambles.
1t was Serizier of whom she thought when
she prayed for vengeance.
'Let it come, Lord; long or late, let
Thy thunder come and strike him as he
struck them! Let Thine hour of vengeance
be sure and swift 10 here, looking up to
Thee, swear never to know rest or respite
till l have tracked him TO his DOOM"
Serizier, colonel of the 10lst battalion.
She wanted 10 know more about him
whittier he had vanished after the carnage;
in what cellar or what garnet this craven
hound had hidden himself.
When she had exhausted her passion in
prayer, she Gained herself and began to
think.
She was tired TO the point of being fain to
cast herself down upon the dusty road and
TO lie there till sleep or death came to give
her rest from the fever of her brain and the
dull aching of her bones. But she struggled
heroically against this overpowering lassi-
tude, and went back to the boulevard, and
hObbled on till she came to n workmans
cafe that opened early for the accommodate
ton of the neighborhood. Here she enter
ed, and seated herself at q table near the
door. The fresh morning air blew in upon
her face as she sat there, and she felt as If
that alone kept her from fainting. Never
in all her life before had she entered such
place alone, or sat alone among such COM
pany. Her girlhOOd and brief married life
had been as closely guarded as If she had
been duchess. To sit alone among rough
blouses and Versaillais soldiers in their
stained uniforms was a new experience.
She ordered some coffee, and the waiter
brought her a roll and butter. She had
eaten nothing except one piece of bread
since she had left home. The coffee and
the food revived her. and she was able to
look about her, and listen to the eager
voices of the blouses and soldiers, as they
sat eating and talking, smoking, drinking
all at once, as it seemed to her, with their
elbows ON the table, seen indistinctly in a
cloud of tobacco.
"He, Ie pore, two little glasses of cognac,
one of absinthe," called blouse.
"Gdrco1l, 1ITle CONNIE" drawled another
blouse, with sublime affectaton, initiating
the expired, or temporarily ebliterated,
race of fopings, the petits creUes of the
Empire, known afterwards as gommeuJ,
elegant consumers of absinthe considerably
diluted with gum arabic. And then came
a namo which riveted Kathleen's attention
to the next table. The name was Serizier.
They were discussing the delegate of zoe 18th
reimbursement, the commander OF the 101st
battalion.
They say that he has decamped this
good Serizier, the hero Of our battles" said
enc Of the men.
1T was time" answered a soldier; "our
cavalry were at the end of the street when
cote bette took to his heels. They have been
hunting for him ever since, but the rat has
run int some hole where he is not easily
found. We shall have him, though Nom
! dun chien, such butchers must not be al
lowed to escape. Those good Dominican
Fathers! No, the cdnaiIle shall not get off r.
''He is a man Of yesterday, this Serizier,
creation OF the 18th March, is he not~
! asked the ether.
ale is Communard, crupule among the
Communards. He is curTier by trade, but
! he got into trouble under the Empire, and
was refugee in Belgium up to the 4th of
September. He hates all priests with a
diaboical ferocity, and has prided himself
upon desecrating the churches by his brutal
orgies. lie is more tiger than man; but we
shall cut his claws and draw his teeth when
we find HIM"
"When we find him, yesp answered the
other, lolliRg over the table, and, eating his
soup with an air of luxurious repose.