The Irish standard., 1895-11-09
moonbeam cleaving the

moment the thought flashed on him
that it was some masquerading play Of
Victorine:s, and then it had vanished
SO instantly, that it knew it for an IL
fusion of his eyes, of his brain, tired
with thinking and caring and sorrow
ing for sorrows he could not heal. And
80 he left the night and moonlight, and
the cold unquiet sea, and went to his
slu1nbers.
There had been q brief season Of
gayety in the first year after Beaux-
lieux majority, when Pierre, who re-
ported himself as doing finely, came
home to marry Victorine, whose hand
he had asked of the duchess, we'd
ding which took a great load off the
mind of Olympic, since she knew the
wiles of Victorine, and the charm of.
being Duchess DIES Sarazines Beaux-
lieux. even in a. republic, where it
might be little more than being a
duchess Of rag fair. She had not
CHANGED to hear Pierre say to Victorine
that night in the wood: II will make
you Duchess DIES Beaulieux yeti"
More than once in the two years
time, Beauxlieux had run down to the
chateau for sight of his mother, for a
fresh trip with Jean, no one knew
where, but from which he came back
with an air, one could not declare were
it more of sadness or of proud determi-
nation. II have been eating black
bread" he would say in answer to his
mothers inquiry. II have been among
my brothers. There is SO much to do.
They have not only to be helped. they
have first to be taught that they need
the help. They are in the dark; they
do not even grope; they do not know
that there is any light. They suffer
so. They arc so patient. Some Of them,
my mother. seem like beasts of the
field. And it is we who have made
them sou he cried, springing to his
feet. sit is the weight of our splendor
that has crushed them into earth
''Our splendor!' said his mother,
bitterly.
s'The splendor," with a wild ges-
ture, 'that, thank God, is ours no
more!"
my child! Beauxlieux!''
Sometimes" he said, s'when / am
with them, my heart swells as if it
would burst. l feel the very singing
Of the poor blood in their veins. It
would not be so poor had mine not
been too rich! We have trodden them
down so long, they have been so herded,
so outraged, so cowed, 50 starved, their
souls impoverished as their bodies-my
God! We have lived on their labor,
our wealth is their sweat, our thrones
are planted on their slaughterl Often
when I have seen the great carriages
driven along the Bots, the high step
ping horses in their golden harnesses,
the women, rosy, round, their silks
overlooking like petalsof great flowers,
the sight of them has made me
tremble,' I have felt the wheels of
those carriages rolling through blood!'
She listened; but she hardly under
stood him. She feared; but he half inn
bued her with his feeling. She doubted
if he were not possessed of sacred
fury. And while she was sure that her
-Beauxlieux-could not be other
wise than rightly great melancholy
oppressed her, as if for the first time
she saw thrones shake and the old
order of things go by. ''Oh, what shall
we do with him, M. Etienne?" she
cried when he had gone.
Nothing" said M. Etienne, "the
good God has him in hand
Sometimes when Reauxlieux came
home, he had strange tales OF his ex-
perience in the prisons, where he had
gained permission to practice and to
study. Sometimes he had nothing at
ali to say, as if words fell short Of
power. Once, in contrast to all this. he
brought his mother the most charming
Partisan costume, the daintiest hat and
mantle. 1t made her feel herself a
woman of the world again when she
put them on. l''You look like all the
rest of the1n!' said Beaux1ieux, ''only
a Thousand times lovelier than any of
them! You shall go up with me and see
the new Paris. You get into rut liv-
ing in solitude, like the rest Of the un-
foreground people. You shall go to the
opera again; you shall go to the Bon
Marche.''
ssThe extravaganza, Beauxlieux! No.
no, do not wish to co.
treason the more that you should
go. And as for the expense, if money
does not grow on bushes now, yet
havesan we need And, my first duty
being to you, my mother, there will
still be that which will suffice for the
new Crusade, in saving those who are
in this day the sepulchre of Christ, in
carrying succor to how many of the
sad and sorry!''
1t had plainly become passion with
him, this care for the spirits'in prison
not only behind iron CRATES, but in the
bonds Of rude flesh. His mother could
not explain why the whole thing gave
her such vague uneasiness She turned
for comfort, as usual, to M. Etienne,
ut is time that he ranged himself, that
j found for him some young girl with
a sufficient dot her thoughts Summon
ing up an array of possible and impos-
sible young princesses.
But my people, my friends, are
gone The Chevaler st. Malo died
last year, Mortignat is imbecile. I
doubt if there is one left in the world
who@knows that the Duchess des Sara
zines Beauxlieux lives! And he begins
to have money. The bourgeois spirit
Of the time viii seize him if we do not
beware:s Is it. that it is the habit of all
young men, playing, as he does. at q
profession. so soon to arrive at wealth p
Ell do not know stammered M.
Etienne. {. may be sure
The duchess looked at him In sur
prise. Sure Of what? Was N. Etienne5
disturbed that Beauxlieux found money
easily? OF course whatever q Sarazines