The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-05-29


ask you to arrest Monseigneru, the
Bishop of Blois. You will take him to
his room and keep him there until my
pleasure be known"
Your Majesty is obeyed," was the
answer.
There was a great silence in the place
now; and it lasted while the Corsican
stepped forward and bade the quaking
priest follow him. AS for the Able,
he was like one petrified.
Great heaven!" he moaned, when
they led him from the room, "it is the
my wine in his face. God help me, for
my day has surely come"
All else was forgotten in this; the
visions of the night, his purpose in rid
ing to Paris, even the offenses of little
Corinne gave place to the tremendous
fear which his folly had brought upon
him. He saw it all now-mystery no
longer perplexed him. The masquerade
in the woods, the horrible aparition,
the flashing of the crimson fire-what
was it all but the work of the testers at
the palace of st. Cloud? They had
gone out to seek whom they could de-
YOUR, and they had lighted upon the
he had heard of their pastime and
had come to witness its consummation.
And thus had the preparation of a
crime so terrible been brought about.
Nothing, not even religion, was held as
sacred in that year 1853 as the body of
the king. The Able knew full well
that unless mercy were shown to him,
he might spend the remaining years of
his life in the Bastile. Men had come
to such a punishment for mere words
but to throw a goblet of wine in his
Majestys face! The very memory of
his offending compelled him to shudder
like one who was already doomed. The
Corsican officer had led him to bed
room now; pretty room lighted by
many wax candles and furnished with
all the taste characterizing a period so
tsteful. 1t was a long apartment with
q cabinet giving off it-and the Able
observed in this smaller chamber a sup
per table decked prettily with lighted
candles and flowers. For this, however.
he had no appreciating eyes. He felt
at the moment as though he could
never eat again. Foreboding, real and
stern, had set his nerves itching. He
began to question his conductor; hoping
for some little word of comfort.
Monastery" he said, with pitiable
anxiety, "I beg you to tell me-whose
house is this and where does it lie2
Readily" answered the young Off
cer This is the pavilion of Madame
Doublet de Persan. The villagers call
it the House of the Scarlet Witch.
regret, Monseigneur, that your first ac-
quaintance of it should be made so un-
propitiouslys Saint Denis! who would
have thought that his Majesty was un-
known to you?"
God help me-" answered the Able
81 never saw him but once, Monsieur,
and then it was from a bench in the
Place Louis Quinze. Oh, surely, he will
remember that"
The Corsican shook his head, i'm
plying that he doubted.
my Lord Bishop" said he, "I am but
a very humble servant Of his Majesty
and heaven forbid that l should antici-
pate his decision. If you have friends,
however, let me beg of you to write
to them. 1t is possible, should their
influence for this offence with a year
in the Bastile"
the Able, "a year-the Saints help
me-a year for a moments loss of tenn
per! Oh mon Dieu, will you not plead
for me, Monsieur? / am no Lord Bis
hop. but only a pure cure who is friend
less and helpless as you see. conjure
| you, of your charity be a friend to me"
What" cried the soldier, with a
| wondrous assumption of surprise, you
tell me, my Lord, that you are not the
| Bishop Of Blois? Oh, surely, this
nights work has robbed you of your
memory. Think a little, and you will
recall the circumstances. How today
you were riding to Paris upon business
| Of your diocese when you fall into the
| hands of Madame Doublet de Persan's
merry fellows who bring you to this
| house to supper The king, learning of
the jest, is driven over from the pa
lace to enjoy it, when you, losing your
| temper throw a goblet of wine into
| his Majesty's face, and so become my
prisoner until your sentence is de-
! livered. / eXtort you, my Lord, hide
none Of these things from yourself,
but send at once to your friends and
conJure them to intercede for you"
There was a wondrous air of honesty
about the Corsican's tale; and although
the Abbe was more perplexed than
ever when the soldier had DONE he de-
termined to trust him, and to make a
last effort to help himself. Indeed, a
sudden inspiration seized upon him,
and when spoken his words came
quickly and his white cheeks flushed
scarlet.
Monsieur" he said, "I see it all
plainly; they have mistaken me for the
Lord Bishop of Blois, and so this mis-
fortune has fallen upon me. ] have but
one friend in Paris-if, indeed, she be
In Paris now. / speak of my ward
Corinne de Montesson. who is to be
found at the Hotel Beautreillis in the
Rue Saint Paul. Could you but convey
a word to her of my necessity, j
know that 1t would not be unavailing
Indeed, she is very gentle and loving
TO all, and never fails to help those who
are in adversely Send to her, i beg
you, and tell her to come to Saint
Cloud at once. Say that the Abbo
Morellet implores her assistance"
"Ciel," cried the Corsican, "I will tel
her no such tale-for why should she
come to the help of the Able Morellet
when 1t is Monseigneur, the Bishop OF
Blols, whom she is to assist?"
'Sir" said the Able. with humble
entreaty. 'if you tell her that. l am
surely lost"
Courage" said the Corsican, "you
forget, 'Seigneur. In a little time youi
memory will come back to you. i shall
| send to Paris at once Meanwhile Won
will pardon me If must hold you un,