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

selves with balloons, and that, as soon as
they have burned Paris, they mean to set
sail for England or Belgium"
There was no more said about Serizier,
and Kathleen left, af er paying for her re-
freshment, and walked homeward slowly,
feeblY, in the bright cool morning. The sun
was rising over the heights beyond Paris.
1t was shining on the faces of the dead, Oh
the dreadful crimson dye which stained the
streets, on rags and tatters, and fragments
of arms strewed thicker than autumn leaves
on roadway and pavement.
Some Of the street-lamps were still burn
ing-a pale and sickly light in the glow and
glory of the morning The barricades were
deserted. This side of Paris was in posses
sion of the regular army, and a comparative
quiet reigned-the quiet of death and DESC
lation. But mighty masses of flames and
smoke yonder. as Of a burning volcano, told
that the conhagration still ragged with UNI
abated fury-the Eue du Bac, the Rue de
Lille, the public granarles, the Palace OF
Justice; enough material there TO last for
few good hours yet
Halfway towards the Rue Git lie Cour,
Kathleen met melancholy procession.
Forty COmmunards, men and women, pris-
the midst of the soldiers who are leading
them 10 the place where they are to be shot.
No rsl-Ao formula of any kind. They
have been taken red-handed among the
ruins they have made, In bitches, behind
heaps of stones. They have been forced TO
fight, no doubt. The Commune would take
no excuse. Her children must give her their
hearts blood. To refuse was treason; and
4 a-k
days. Rebellion In her deatll-agony, was
merclless. ''As good one death as another"
said the sheep, as they went to the barri-
cades; and they worked and drank-they
were passing liberal with their strong drinks,
these Communard leaders-and they fought
with the desperate courage of men who
knew that death was certain either way.
And now, meekly as they obeyed their
leaders, they suffer themselves to be led to
their doom. Not theirs the brains that
Matched rebellon; not theirs the pockets
that were filled by pillage and theft; not
theirs the profigate orgie or the brief spell
of power; but theirs the pena!ty-death.
1t was nine O'Clock when Kathleen toiled
slowly up the staircase, and knocked with
tremulous hand at her sisters door. That
last portion of her pilgrimage had been the
sloweSt Of al. She had crawled along half
asleep hardly knowing where she was or
what she was doing. She had stumbled
against the passers-by, and had been ac-
cuSed of drunkenness more than once by an
enraged citizen. And now, as Maman Schu-
bert opened the door, she fell into her arms,
and sank from that matronly bosom to the
floor in dead faint.
The door OF the inner roOm-llOSe's bed
room-was ajar. The good Schubert lifted
up Kathleen's lifeless form and laid it on
the sofa. She ministered 10 her with the
skilfulnesS of an experienced nurse, and
then ran to close the door of communication,
lest Rose should hear too much. Already
Rose had inquired several times for her sis
ter. Was Kathleen better? Would she be
well enough 70 come down to see Rose and
the baby? The mother had an idea that
Kathleen would find the little one grown.
He seemed to develop so quickly. He was
all perfume and bloom, like an opening
flower. His breath was sweeter than sum
mer roses.
Durand was lying down on mattress
spread upon the floor of the tiny kitchen.
He had taken'his turn at the barricade last
night, and had received bullet in the 1oshy
part of his arm. He was feyersh with the
pain of his wound, devoured by perpetual
thirst.
you good soul, what would become OF
Us without you" he said, as he took glass
of water from Maman Schubert's hand.
"How shall we ever repay you~
TO BE CONTINUED.