Santa Fe daily New Mexican., 1896-05-29
THE WILL.

knew this tall young man who was
called Rene de Bourneval. He was very
agreeable in company, although a trifle
sad, seeming to dislike everything, very
skeptical-a formal and biting skep-
ticism-clever especially in laying bare
in one word worldly hypocrisies. He
often repeated, "There are no virtuous
men-or at least they are only relative
ly temperate.
He had two brothers whom he did not
visit, the MN. de Courcils. On account
Of their different names I believed him
the offspring Of second marriage l
had been told on several occasions that
a strange story had happened i'll this
family, but no details had been given
me.
This man being entirely agreeable to
me, we were soon good friends. One
evening, after I had dined with him, /
accidentally asked him, "Were you
the offspring Of your mothers first Or
second marriage?" saw him turn
slightly pale, then blush, and he re-
mained some seconds without speaking,
visibly embarrassed. Then he smiled
in sweet and melancholy manner
which was peculiar to him and said:
"My dear friend, if it does not tire you
will give you some singular details
Of my parentage. I know you for an
intelligent man. lido not therefore fear
your friendship for me will suffer, and
if it should suffer I should no longer
care to have you for friend.
"My mother, Nine. de Courcils, was
poor, ti1nid little woman, whom her
husband had married for her fortune.
Her whole life was a martyrdom. At
fectionate, fearful. delicate, she was ill
treated without intermission by him
who should have been my father, one Of
those churls who are called country
gentlemen. After they had been married
month he lived with servant. He
had besides for mistresses the wives and
daughters of his tenants. This did not
prevent his wife from having two chill
dren; including myself, three should be
reckoned Ny mother said nothing.
She lived in that ever noisy house like
those little mice that slip in and out
under the furniture. Effacing herself,
flying away, trembling she looked at
people with her clear, restless eyes,
which, always in motion, looked scared
with the fear that never left them. She
was still pretty, very pretty-very fair
with grayish fairness, a timid fair
ness, as if her hair had faded a little
from her incessant fear.
"Among the friends Of M. de Cour-
ellis who came frequently to the castle
was an old cavalry officer, a widower,
formidable man, tender and violent,
capable of the most energetic resolves
/ M. de Bourneval, whose name bear.
He was tall, spare fellow, with a
heavy black mustache. resemble him
very much. This man had read and
thought far more than those Of his class
His great grandmother had been lover
Of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and it was
said that he had inherited somethir J
from this connection Of his ancestress.
He knew by heart the Social Con.
tract the New Heloise' and all
those philosophical books which have
prepared beforehand the future over.
throw Of our ancient customs, Of oul
prejudices, our obsolete laws, our foolish
morals.
HE loved my mother, it appeared.
and was loved by her. This affair was
kept 20 secret that no one suspected It.
The poor woman, sad and abandoned,
clung to him desperately and imbibet
all his habits Of thought, theories o.
free opinion, boldness Of Independent
love; but, as she was so timid that sh'
never dared speak loudly, all Of it wa
driven back, condensed, pressed int
her heart, which was never opened.
my two brothers were harsh to
ward her, like my father-did not cares
her-and, accustomed to seeing that sh
did not count for anything in the house
treated her almost like servant.
II was the only one Of her sons WI,
really loved her and whom she loved.
"She died. was then 18. ough
to add, in order that you may under
stand what is to follow, that, by lega
advice, her husband had been provides
for, and she had retained her own sepa
rate estate, having, thanks to the arti
fees of the law and the intelligent de
votion Of o notary, preserved the righ
to make her will as she pleased.
Eve were, therefore, informed b.
this notary that q will existed and in
vited to be present at Its reading.
II recall it as If it were yesterday
It was grand, dramatic, burlesque
surprising scene, called forth by tn
posthumous revolt Of the dead woman
by this cry Of liberty, this claim fro.
the depth Of the grave Of this marty
crushed by our morals during her life
From her shut coffin she threw dc
spairing appeal toward Independence.
HE who believed himself my ia
ther, stout plethoric man, who pu
! one in mind Of butcher, and my broth