Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1898-12-11

, LET the world go burn!" cried Cy-
rano in a passion of valor. I've ten
hearts in my breast now and score of
arms"
Fad Cyrano had time to dream,
that night would have passed in ecs-
tasy of hope, but there was other work
cut out for him. He might not spend
the hours of darkness tormenting him
self with whimsical imaginings about
his deformity and with golden antici-
pations reused by the beloved Rox-
ane's message. His sword had work
| to do, and, though that work might lay
him low and close his eyes forever be-
fore they rested on the face Of his be-
loved, he must do it. A hundred men
| threatened Ligniere, the drunkard, the
| balladist, the man whose verse had
stung the great De Guiche, the man
whom Cyrano de Bergerac named
| friend.
But, prithee, why embroil yourself
for him." demanded LIE Bret when Cy
rano, forgetful of the roseate Roxane,
had gripped his sword to use upon the
| hundred cut-throat hirelings of De
Guiche. Hes but a wine cask at the
! best
! He is my friend, and for this reason
| is he dear to me. His love was a lady
of devout ways-and Lgniere, whom
water poisons, saw her white fingers
touch font of holy water-little lilies
ruf1ing a clear pond. Swiftly he seized
| the stoup and drained it to the last drop
the water her finger tips had sanctified
Was it not pretty thing? Shall no;
| be proud to name him friend? And
| shall | not lead the charge upoA those
who seek to do him harm? Bear me no
! aid, | pray you, gentlemen, when | fall
fall upon them. Come you, If you
will. but watchers be, not actors. Ahead
of you at twenty PAGES l, all alone, shall
dare them. Come on"
They followed him to see the sport
those cav Parisians, to whom all things
were but a spectacle. And the sight
they witnessed drove them mad with
delight. Cyrano bore down upon his
! thugs like an avalanche Before his
fury they fed away. Those who would
have withstood him fell beneath his
sword. There was no resisting him
| The 10y of battle against fearful odds
was upon him. The message from
-, Roxane sang itself in his heart. No
man could hold his own against the
strong son of Gascony.
How he escaped the crowd that
pressed upon him, eager to touch his
hand, eager to felicitate him, it is hard
! telling. But somehow he managed 1t
When the last flying form of his foes
had sped through the nebulous moon
| light, before the mobiles and officers WhC
| had witnessed the affair could seize Cy
rano to bear him to his lodgings ir
! triumph, he was gone. Hurrying to hi:
house, they did not find him.
| He walked deserted streets and quays
when the moon Travelled mistily dowr
the sky and the sun rose up through a
rudy smoke in the east. A thousand
| times he addressed Roxane in fancy
The blood that rushed swiftly through
his veins after the fight throbbed to heI
name now that battle was done. In
lines that wove themselves together
like the tendrils of vine he addressed
her. The lit of birds songs, the sob
bling of the sea, colors like gems, per-
fumes as flowers. all mingled in his
senses as he framed the speech In
which he would address her. Then. sill
houetted on a gray wall, he would catch
/ sight of his reflection. Grotesque, I'M
calmly, monstrous, his nose was cut in
the black shadow. His words took
wing and his heart sank at the mem
DRY Of that fatal nose.
Long before st. Roch's worshippers
had left the chapel. he was at the pas
try cooks. He paced up and down. His
! eyes took in the FURNISHED brightness OF
the copper pans. the suffering flames
! where from a fowl revolving on a spit
! a drop OF grease would fall. He look
ed upon the plates high heaped with
tarts and cakes. He saw a staggering
musketeer pay compliments to Lise,
the buxom wife of Raguenau. He saw
| Raguneau, connoisseur Of cakes and
couplets, composer Of tarts and triol-
cts, adept at poetry and at pies. bustl-
ing about his shop, blind to the mus
keteer, keenly alive to the hungry
poets whom he fed--at so many verses
meal.
CHAPTER ".
| But though Cyrano's eyes saw all the
II