The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-05-08
THE WIZARDS CROSS.

the valley in which the little provincial
town of St ute lies well out of the way OF
the rest Of the world. On the government
maps OF the department this road is called
the route de Toulouse but about Toulouse
which lies fifty long leagues to the south
ward. the inhabitants of ST. Ute know little
and care less. TO them the road is, and al
ways has been, the route de ST. Antoine"
IN honor Of the monastery and chapel which
st@9i overlooking e from rocky eminence
about a mile out of the town.
one OF those whose memory stretches
back the farthest is old Martin Neyrac.
the garde champetre, who is also landlord
Of the inn EAU bon st. Antoine" which
stands at the junction OF the path TO the
monastery with the high road. The pere
Neyrac is a garrulous old man. and the
former glories Of st. Antoine are not likely
20 pass from remembrance as long as he
lives to recall them A single question un-
locks his hoard of "reminiscences, and unless
one wishes to be absolutely uncivil to him,
one must compose ones self to listen until
he is weary of talking
md had asked him question as sat I'm
front of his inn with him, drinking a bottle
OF the best little wine Of the country had
mentioned a cross on the hillside behind the
ina stone cross with an ilegible inscrip-
AitiiS aA NlAOSS iCOl grew some req ana white
roses.
'"Tiens!" cried la pere Neyrac. ''is it posi-
bic that monsieur does not know the story
Of the Croix du Sorcier?"
NO" 1 replied; II did not even know
that among your legends you had such
treasure a wizard"
1t is not a legend, monsieur" said the
old man. earnestly; 'it is all plain fact
facts which happened under my very own
eyes, and as to his being a wizard-werl.
that was only a facon de parler He was
no more wizard than you or /, though he
did wonderful things which made people
call him so. However, I had better begin
at the beginning, for it is story worth
hearing.
1t happened fifty years ago, monsieur,
and fifty years ago things were very differ
ent from what they are now. The monastery
was full of monks, and the little chapel UP
yonder was the favorite pilgrimage between
Limoges and Toulouse Lourdes and Ro-
camadour have put il out of fashion now,
but l can remember the time when pilgrims
at st. Antoine were as plentiful as flies in
August; and when pilgrims were plentiful
this inn drove a rafting good trade, and
the landlord, Francois Savariaud, was a
Well-to-do man. Savariaud's father and
grandfather had kept the inn before him,
1odVaFaud son was not likely 70 succeed
him; he had other views, and his father
was quite as well pleased-.perhaps better
10 stand in his shoes one day.
FRANCOIS Savariaud was about my age,
ana what bit Of learning have | got along
with him at the school which the monks
used to keep for the benefit of the children
of the neighborhood | never took much
10 reading and writing, and as soon as |
mad made my first communion j left school
and began TO earn bit of living as odd
boy at the inn, while Francois, who was the
faVortte pupil of the monks, kept TO his
books. He was queer sort of lad, with
dreamy face and dark eyes set far back in
ms mead, and a thin,. determined mouth,
which scarcely ever smiled or uttered mer-
Ty word: He did not care for play, and he
had no friends of his own age. He seemed
10 care for nothing and no one but The
monks, his books and the church services;
so we gave him the nickname of the Abb
Dot, and every one felt sure he would either
study for the priesthood or take the vows
of a monk. His teachers we're very proud
OF MIN; they held him up as model to all
me school, and in private, expect. they
worked on his enthusiasm and encouraged
the bent of his mind. Anyhow, when he was
ABOUT seventeen ne went away to Clermont
to the seminary, and Savariaud and his wife
Used to tell every one that the abbot had in .
sisted on their sons studying to be a mis-
Sonary in the East. No one regretted his
going, for, as l said he had no friends, and
his father and mother, who were very de-
ne had taken. So the year slipped by and
l ne only came home once or twice for a, few
of our ken altogether. But in the last sum
mer before his public profession and ordna-
tlo2 the father superior of the seminary
ordered him to spend the long vacation at
home and TO rest.
He had not changed much during his five
years absence although his face was paler
and thinner, his eyes more sunken and mys-
ferrous, his lips narrower and more nflex-
lbls And he was no more genial than OF
old; he used to ramble all day the hills
with a book in his hand and rosary hang
ing from his fingers. He looked more like
81 shadow than a creature of flesh and blood.
And yet one day he surprised himself and
every one else by the discovery that after
all he was but as other men are. and that
MS human passions had survived all the
penanceS and seventies with which he had
thought to destroy them.
You understand, monsieur. He fell in
love. The protege of the monks, the ascetic
student, the invincible soldier of the church,
1ell In love. as madly and as deeply as the
rather more madly and more deeply be-
cause 1t was his nature to exaggerate his
emotions. and because his nature had been
so long perverted and repressed.
'PerhapS It was no wonder that he fell a
victim 10 Berthe Maziere. Half the lads in
me place were In love with her, without
her seeming to raise a finger to make a
conquest of any one; and though she had
not penny of dowry, she might have mar
rIed just whom she pleased. She made no
choice. however, but teased all her lovers
alike. until the unlucky day when, after I
with me. Francois Savariaud saw her sit
ting beside a pile of melons which she had
WHO is she, Martin? he asked me
eagerly, as / greeted her in passing. / told
him she was my cousin, Berthe Maziere,
and soon after / saw that he had turned
back and was buying a melon from her.
What was he thinking of? His father S
vineyard yielded the best melons in the
neighborhood Then l noticed the look on
his face Berthe smiled at him, and it
amused me TO think OF the stern young
neOphyte unbending for moment to joke
with my pretty cousin. Before long, how
ever, we all knew that it was joke nor
just a moments pastime; for, forgetting all
his past resolutions and all the future for
which he had been training so arduously,
Francois began to WOO Berthe MaZiere in
serious earnest. and, stranger still, Berthe.
who had tossed her pretty head at the
handsomest and bravest lads of st. Ute,
listened TO him and gave him every en-
enlargement 1t seemed if the very
strangeness and uneXpectednesS of his WOO
ing fascinated her. Francois made no Sc
cret of his courtship 1t did not seem to
enter his mind that any one would blame or
oppose il. He went every day to La Pige-
oLnic on the opposite side of the valley.
where Berthe lived with her parents; and
every one who chose could see him working
with her in her fathers bit of vineyard, or
sitting beside her while she minded the
goats on the hillside. Plain as it was, how
ever, and much as people were talking of it,
Francois's parents seemed to know nothing
about it, until one fine day he game home
and informed them that Berthe MaZiere had
IL hot - 1N1