The daily morning journal and courier., 1895-02-22
THE WOMAN oT THE WIYDMI1I.
4 Romantic and Tragic Incident in the War of La Vendee.
 [From the FIRarol


 War of La Nendee.
 [From the Flgaro.l
 It was pretty little windmill, with Its big round tower capped by wealth CT vane, it's long arms or blades which rattled in the west wind like the sails of boat in stays, and it's little round windows looking over the hills of Anjou like the telescopes of an astronomer such was the windmill of Bernardeau; and when it was working all the wind- mills around the neighborhood looked like white sea gulls pursued by a bird of prey. It was situated on the slope of the Guigne at the end of little crooked pathway hardly wide enough for the mill donkey, and in which one might search in vain for traces of human foot prints, because it was so dark under it's vault of shrubbery, so muddy and rug ged that the woman of the mill always took to the vines when on her way to Ancenis on foot.
 And a handsome woman, too, was this lady of the mill. She was twenty five years old, with a well-rounded form, little hand, flashing dark eyes, lips as red as wild cherries and a we'll turned leg, She was smart in her at tire, and there was little in her appear ance to reveal the fact that she was a widow. When she came into the vil- lage mounted upon the donkey that carried her bags of flour, all the young fellows came out to admire her fine fig nre and the beautiful limbs which ap- peared below her short skirt.
 Even the donkey himself seemed proud of his mistress. He travelled along at an easy gait, tossing his head and cooking his ears, as if to say to eV- erybody, Here she is; you have only to look at her; this is la Meuniere of Der nardeau There isn't another woman like her in all the country" And that was the truth. But she was the sub ject of d great deal of gossip. How the tongues did wag on her account! It was said that since the death of her husband, a poor goose of a fellow who had taken her without a. cent from a farm and left her all his property, she frequently tossed her cap over the blades of her windmill. Whether this was true or not, the blades certainly never told; but one thing is certain, and that is that she did hang up her cap there publicly on one occasion, and it cost her her life. Here is her story:
 The first thing the Vendeens did when they rose in revolt against the republic was to make use of the windmills. Nothing could be better suited for sig mailing or more troublesome for the en- en1y. Where the Blues could only see white wings turning round in a melan- choly fashion, the Chouans possessed a perfect telegraphic system, which told hhem of the movements of the republi- can army.
 The windmill of Bernardeau was one of the principal vedettes on the Loire. Three days before the attack upon Nantes, Cathelineau came to the mill of Bernardeau and asked for shelter, It was the 22d of June, 1793. Bonchamp was at Ancenis since the 17th awaiting the main body of4rthe army. The weather was magnificent, and the Ven deems camped in the open air. When CatheTineau at the end of a little road found himself face to face with the beautiful woman of the mill, he asked her if she was royalist. "One might easily become a royalist to serve under so handsome an officer as you" said she. Good enough! Then let me have shelter here tonight" The meuniere cheerfully welcomed | him and Cathelineau slept that night ! in the mill. The next morning when he | was leaving she sent to him from the | threshold of the mill perfect volley of | kisses, after which she went up to the | highest little window in the mill and | waved her little white handkerchief.
 Eight days afterward Cathelineau, | mortally wounded, was coming from | Ancenis in al carriage, and as he passed | by the mill he cast a long and sad look l at it. According to the order, it's blades |