The Indiana State sentinel., 1894-11-14

ment maps OF the department this road
IS called the route de Toulouse" but
about Toulouse, which lies fifty long
leagues TO the southwark, the inhabitants
of St Zite know little and care less. To
them the road is, and always has been, the
route de ST. Antoine" in honor Of the
monastery and chapel which stand over
looking it from a rock eminence about a
mile out Of the town.
One of those whose memory stretches
back the farthest is old Martin Neyrac, the
garde champetre. who is also landlord OF
the inn "Au bon st. Antoine" which
stands at the junction of the path to the
monastery with the high-r0ad The pere
Neyrac is a garrulous old man, and the
former glories Of st. Antoine are not like
ly to pass from remembrance as long as
he lives to recall them. A single ques-
ton unlocks his hoard Of "reminiscences,
and unless one wishes to be absolutely
unciviI to him one must compose ones
self to listen until he is weary Of talking.
And I had asked him a question as
sat IN front OF his inn with him, drinking
a bottle Of the best little wine of the
country. I had mentioned a cross on the
hillside behind the inn-a stone cross with
an illegible inscription. at whose foot grew
some red and white roses.
"Tiensr' cried le pere Neyrac, "is it pos
sible that monsieur does not know the
story Of the Croix du Sorcier?"
NO" 1 replied; "I did not even know
that among your legends you had such
a treasure as a wizard
''It IS not a legend monsieur" said tle
old man earnestly. "it IS all plain fact
facts which happened under my very
eyes; and as to his being wlzard-well.
that was only a 'facon de parler.' He was
no more a wizard than you or I, though
he did wonderful things which made peo-
pie call him so. However. I had better
begin at the beginning, for it is story
worth hearing"
''It happened fifty years ago. monsieur.
and fifty years ago things were very diff
ferent from what they are now. The
monastery was full OF monks, and the 1T
tie chapel up yonder was the favorite pill
grimage between Limoges and Toulouse,
I1ourdes and Rocamadour have put it out
of fashion now. but can remember the
time when pilgrims at st. Antoine We're
as plentiful as flies in August; and when
pilgrims We're plentiful this inn drove a
rattling good trade, and the landlord,
Francois Savariaud. was a we,l-to-do man.
SaVarlauQS 1aLner ana grandfather nad
kept the inn before him, as tenants Of
the reverend fathers: but Savariaud's son
was not likely to succeed him; he had
other views. and his father quite as
well pleased-perhaps better than If young
Francois had been going to stand in his
shoes one day.
Francois SavariaGd was about my age,
and what bit OF learning [ have I got
along with him at the school which the
monks used to keep for the benefit Of the
.@J,fT - he FrrIeF,
took much to reading and writing, and as
soon as L had made my first communion,
i left school and began TO earn a bit of
a living odd boy at the inn: while
Francois, who was the favorite pupil of
the monks kept to his books He was
queer sort Of lad, with dreamy face, and
dark eyes set far back in his head and a
thin, determined mouth which scarcely
ever smiled or uttered a merry word
He did not care for play, and he had no
friends of his own age. He seemed to
care for nothing and no one but the
monks, mis- books, and the church serv-
ices; so we gave him the nickname Of the
Abbot and every one felt sure he would
either study for the priesthood or take
the vows Of a monk. His teachers were
very proud Of him; they held him up as a
model 10 all the school, and in private, L
expect, they worked on his enthusiasm
and encouraged the bent Of his mind
Anyhow, when he was about seventeen
he went away to Clermont to the
seminary, and Savariaud and hiI wife
used TO tell every one that the abbot had
insisted on their sons studying to be a
missionary in the East. No one regretted
his going, for, rs 1 said he had no friends
and his father and mother, who were very
deVout people, were delighted with the
step he had taken. So the year slipped
by and he only came home once Of twice
for few days. He seemed, indeed. to
have passed out of our ken altogether
But in the last summer before his public
profession and ordination the father SUI
perior of ths seminary ordered him to
spend the long vacation at home, and TO
rest.
He had not changed much during his
five years absence, although his face
was paler and thinner his eyes more
sunken and mysterious. his lips narrower
and more infiexbble. And he was no more
genial than Of old; he used TO ramble al
day on the hills with book in his hand
and a rosary hanging from his fingers.
He looked more like shadow than a
crea ture Of flesh and blood. And vet
one day he surprised himself and every
one else by the discovery that after az he
was but as other men are. and that his
human passions had survived all the
penances and seventies with which he
had thought to destroy Them
You understand, monsieur He fell in
love. The protege of the monks, the
ascetic student. the invincible soldier of
the church, fell in love, as mad,y and as
deeply as the most giddy-pated of us
might have dOne-Or rather more madly
and more deeply because 1t was his ma
ture TO exa ggerate his emotions. and be-
cause his nature had been so long per
verted and rep-essed.
Perhaps IL was no wonder that he fell
a victim to Berthe Maziere Half the
lads IN the place were in love with her.
without her seeming to raise a finger to
make a conquest of any one: and though
my of ii. =.
have married just whom she p.easad
she made no choice. however. but teased
al her lovers alike, untf1 the un-uclv
day when, after 1 had persuaded him tn
go down to market with me. Francois
Savar.aud saw her sitting beside a pile
or moons which she had bought 10 sell
Who is she, Martini ne asked me
eagerly, as / greeted her in passing
told him she was my cousin. Rerthe NTo
ziere. and soon after / saw that he had
turned back and was buying a melon from
her. What was he thinking of His
in the neighbOrhOOd. Then I noticed the
look on his face as Berthe smiled at him.
and it amused me TO think of the stern
young neophyte unbending for a moment
10 joke with my pretty cousin. Before
long, however. we all knew that il was
no joke. nor just moments pastme: for,
forgetting al his past resolutions and all
the future for which ne had been training
SO arduously, Francois began to WOO
Berthe MaZiere In serious earnest. and
stranger still, Berthe, who had tossed her
pretty head at the handsonnest and bravest
N0aN Of