Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1894-07-30

revolving IL his brain. he retraceu HIS
steps. Perhaps-who knows?-Cham-
pignol may have awakened at lastl
Vain hope! Champignol had turned
green. His hands were as cold as mar
BILE. His heart had ceased beating.
Their little pleasuring was turning
into tragedy. Chapoteau buried his
head in his hands, sad, distracted, see
ing nothing but that inert mass, those
rigid members and closed eyes, and
through the doors he seemed to hear the
noise of the courtroom
He was alone, without witnesses No
one could prove his innocence. Every
thing was against him. 1t would be i'm
possible also to prove an alibi. People
had seen Champignol come in, and it
was known that he came every Thurs
day. They had seen him also walking
in his garden. Chapoteau believed him
self lost. Only one resource was left
him. He took Champignol in his arms,
lifted him from his chair, and pulling
him by his shoulders, his head and his
legs dragged him to the end OF the gar
den. 1t was growing dark. Suddenly
a board fell near to Chapoteau. He
started, cried out, ready to struggle,
thinking the officers had come to arrest
him. The silhouette of cat, providing
on the wall in the clear twilight, eased
his mind little
Near the hedge there was large
round hole. Chapoteau rolled the body
of his friend into it. His feet projected
beyond, SO he covered them with straw
"Adieu, CHAMPAGNE, he sobbed
There at least his victim was in Sc
cure place. They would not discover
him there very soon. Chapoteau would
have time to escape.
He reached the fields, walking straight
ahead, without plans He had only one
thought-to get away, to 60 to the end
of the world, but his feet refused to
carry him. Every few minutes he was
obliged to sit down by the roadside.
He had knotted handkerchief about
his head, so as not to be recognized.
Already he was devising the ruses of
the criminal.
Three hours had sufficed to lose his
assured position, to make an assassin Of
him, to lower him to the ranks Of the
greatest rascals. What did his con-
science matter to him? He would not
be the less culpable in the eyes Of the
world, and his crime would appear all
the more horrible because his victim
had been his best friend. And yet he
years. He had practiced all the virtues.
He had dreamed Of dying in his bed.
Poor Chapoteaul Most unfortunate
Mme Chapoteau!
He saw himself OH the bench Of the
accused The judge was talking to him.
They had spread out before him the
victims clothes, and i'll the darkness
the crowd howled, stamped and threat
ened to kill him.
Then greater fear spurred him on,
and he began again to walk. Sometimes
he stopped, believing he could hear
some one running after him. The trees
took on strange forms in the darkness.
The wind whispered "Poisoner!" He
stopped for long time on the bank Of
pond trying to persuade himself to
jump in. ..
A noise of footsteps caused him to
look up suddenly. Two policemen were
coming toward him. In the dusk they
seemed enormous, like the pillars Of
the guillotine.
''It is all over" moaned poor Cha
poteau, "they have followed me- They
will arrest me-"
He hid himself behind a hedge The
policemen passed on.
Chapoteau wandered for an hour or
two. He could no longer see nor hear.
His head swayed on his shoulders, as an
empty gourd sways in the wind.
"By this time" he thought, Il
should be in my bed at home.
And distracted by his fears he stun
bled against wall. There were houses
in front of him, black as his crime, as
his thoughts as his remorse. However,
light cleaned beneath door. Tired
out, his strength and energy exhausted,
he knocked He heard voices inside.
Finally they opened the door.
Chapoteau gave loud cry.
"ChampignolP'
1t was Champignol in person. He
had awakened in the hole and was still
laughing at the joke.
Champignol a joker indeed! Chapo-
teau thought himself dreaming
Then he had not given fatal dose Of
audanum-though little too much, it
is true.
He had not killed Champignol. He
had not committed crime! He would
not die on the scaffold! He touched
Champignol with the tips of his fingers,
as one touches delicate piece Of game,
fearing that this shape was only Cham
pignol's shadow.
In reality, Chapoteau never forgave
Champignol for the fright which he
gave him that day.-Translated From