The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1898-12-29
A LEGEND OF
NEW YEARS EVE.

This is the 30th of January, 1871,
said Dame Madeleine, laying down her
knitting with serious look in her
brown, shriveled face, like one about to
tell q strange story. I'm 81 years old
today. l have lived to see many Won
derful changes. I have seen the French
at Berlin and the Germans in Paris,
and now thank the God that these
good old eyes of mine can see but little
moro evil in this world.
1t is seldom enough that stir from
home now, for my own limbs are not SO
lissom now as they used to be in the
days Of the great emperor, when l
danced down all the village girls at our
fete of Paques (Easter) and New Years
eve and prayed for the soul of our young
lord, Henri de Mortemar, for it was up
on that day that he sinned his greatest
sin, and sorely indeed was he punished
for it, May God have mercy upon his
soull You say you would like to hear
the tale? Well there are not many gen.
tlemen who would care to sit and listen
to an old woman's idle stories, so if
you re good enough to wish to learn it
you shall have it, and welcome.
There's but little remaining now of
the old chateau of Mortemar, and if
monsieur the marquis could come back
to it he would hardly know his own
home again, for when the people rose
up in 1898 they scarcely left one stone
upon another. You can just see half
burned corner of one of the towers, and
that's all. But in the days before the
revolution what a place it was! Such
feasting all day long! Such music and
dancing and gayety of every kind Such
troops of servants in rich liveries, and
fine gentlemen with laced coats and sill
yer belted swords, and beautiful ladies
with powdered hair, and glittering
with jewels like tho shrine of the Holy
Virgin in the cathedral yonder. But to
pay for all this, splendor we of the peo-
pie had to make soup out of nettles and
to go without fire in winter, and that's
why I'm glad the times are changed
now.
M. Henri was the only child, but his
father, the great marquis, had adopted
a young lady, the daughter of an old
friend of his who had been killed by his
side at the battle of Minden. These
were all that lived in the house, but
there were always plenty Of young gen.
tlemen from the neighborhood hanging
about the chateau-and we'll there
might be when such a pretty girl as
Mile. Adela was in it. 1t would take
good hour to tell you of all her admir-
hut Tho txun anl xuillnct ~
them all were CASTOR de st. Cyr, and
Raymond de Merioourt, whom they
used to call the Black Eagle.
Holy st. Josephl What wild set
they were, those young madcapsl l can
remember as if it were yesterday
(though was only child then) how
they used to racket about the streets of
the town at night, kissing every pretty
girl they met and pricking every quiet
old burgher with their swords till he
jumped and hallooed like dancer at
fair. 1t was no use complaining, for no
one dared to touch gentleman in those
days, and once, when the mayor ventur-
ed to object to their doings, they an
swered by hanging dead dog at his
door with piece of paper in its mouth
saying, "a ton tour, mon frere" (In
your turn, brother.) Little did they
dream, then, that their own friends and
kinsmen were to be hung along those
streets in the very same way only few
years later"
But there was one among the roister
ers go different from the rest that he