The Olneyville times. (Olneyville [Providence, R.I.]) 1887-1917, 1898-11-25
THE ZOUAVE.

On the evening of my story George
LOry, the first blacksmith Of Sainte-
MarieauxMines, was in an unhappy
frame of mind.
1t had always been his habit as soon
az the forge fire was extinct and the
sun had set to seat himself on a bench
before his door, and, while enjoying
that lassitude which hard work on a
warm day leaves behind it, drink sever
al pots of beer with his apprentices be-
fore sending them away.
But on this particular evening the
good man remained at the forge until
it was time to go to the supper table,
and then went reluctantly into the
house.
"What can be the matter with him?"
thought his wife. Perhaps he has re-
ceived some bad news from the regiment
that he does not wish to tell me. Per
haps our son is i'll. "
But as she dared not ask she occu-
pied herself in trying to quiet her three
fiaxen headed youngsters, whose laugh
ing faces appeared around the board,
where they were munching a salad of
black radishes and cream.
At last the blacksmith pushed away
his plate, exclaiming angrily:
"Oh, the cowardsl Oh, the scoun-
drels !"
"What is the matter, Lory?" asked
his wife.
Then the root of the whole matter
came to light.
scoundrels whom any one could have
seen this morning rambling round the
village In the uniforms of French SOL
diers arm in arm with the Bavarians.
Yes, it is such as these-what shall /
call them-who have chosen to become
Prussians! And to think we will have
to see these false Alsatians coming back
every day from Africa! What magic po-
tion have they drunk to make them
change this way?"
His wife, motherlike, Immediately
attempted the defense of the abused.
"What would you have otherwise,
my poor husband?" said she. "This re-
turn is hardly the fault of these chill
dren. Algiers, where they were sent, is
so far away that they were homesick,
and it must have been such tempta-
tiOn for them to come back, such a
temptation not to have to be soldiers
any longer ~
Lory struck the table with his fist
fiercely.
''Hush, mOtherl You women never
understand anything. Living for your
children and with your children makes
you lower your mind to the level of the
intellect of the youngsters AS for me,
l say to you again that these men are
beggars, scOundrels the worst kind of
towards, and, if i'll luck should make
our Christian capable of such infamy as
theirs, as true as my names George
Lory and that | have served seven years
as a French soldier l would run him
through with my sword. And with a
terrible look, half rising, the black
smith pointed to his long saber hanging
on the wall beneath his sons picture
a portrait taken in Africa of soldier in
zouave uniform, but with such an hon
SSb A4SdOAdh AdCC, by pun,
that the sight suddenly calmed ths fa-
ther, and he said laughingly:
sit was well l looked at the picture.
As if our Christian could become Prus-
sianr'
Put into better humor by this idea,
the good man gayly finished his dinner,
and soon followed it up with couple
of pints of beer at the Vile de Stras-
bourg inn.
At last his wife was alonei
After putting the little flaxen heads
to bed and listening to their prattle in
the next room, which sounded like a
nestful of birds going TO sleep, she took
her work and sat down to knit before
the door at the garden side of the house.
From time to time she sighed as she
thought, Eyes, l know it well, they
are towards and renegades; but what
does it matter. Their mothers will be
glad TO see them back once more all the
same.
And she thought of the times before
her son had gone with the army, how at
this hour of the day he used TO devote
himself to the care of the garden. In her
mind she could see him, clad In blouse.
his hair long, his beautiful hair which
they had cut off when he became a
zouave, filling his watering can at the