Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-01-01

and honey dew that once thrilled
through her veins. Upon her bosom
always lay the letter they found upon
him there at Arras-the letter he had
meant to send ROxane, a blood-stained
tear-stained missive.
She was not unhappy in the still
convent and in the great park that
surrounded it. At first De Guiche
came often to her. but the great noble
man grew buster as years went by,
and his calls upon her were less fire.
quent. But Cyrano never failed her.
Week after week, year after year, the
same hour of the day brought him TO
her, still the poet, the philosopher;
still the warrior. fighting shams and
wrongs with naked blade and know
ing not the uses of diplomacy; always
in manner her faithful friend and al
ways the light hearted jester of the
/ old days, ready for prank or a joke
The good sisters liked him more
than passing well. They liked the COS
sip of the court with which he bright
ened Roxane's days. They liked,
sweet souls, his teasing of their piety.
One quiet autumnal day Is years at
ter the day when the white scarf of De
Guiche had babe the Spanish attack at
Arras, RoXane sat waiting for her
friend. The leaves were falling, the
chestnut trees about the chapel were
already golden tinted and the quiet sad
ness of autumn was in the air. Under
the trees in the park of the Sisters of
the Holy Cross, Roxane had been re-
ceiving somewhat that afternoon. De
Guiche had called upon her-changed,
bent with weight of many honors. LIE
Bret had been there, telling her of Cy-
ramos impudence.
True" she said, The has never
taught his tongue to wait upon his in
terests. He makes fresh enemies, !
know. But still his sword is long. He
holds his foes in check"
LIE Bret had shaken his head dubious
ly. Then he had said: Il fear for him
not simply an attack, but loneliness and
hunger and the cold within his dreary
chamber. He is poor, madame. He has
but one shabby suit OF serge"
"Ah," said the duke bitterly, remem-
bering his own stified conscience and
starved soul, 'Fhe is not to be pitied.'
The lord marshal os France may
well make little of the trifiing discom-
forts of my friend" lie Bret answered
Il know that l have all and he has
nothing" said De Guiche, but I'd be
proud to take his hand-I envy him
When life seems most successful
though one has won success by no foul
means, even then there is a vague I'M
rest. It's not remorse: it's disillusion
All, the ermined mantle Of the duke
rustIes as it moves with sound of lost
hopes and vain regrets. as a woman s
gown sweeps dead leaves in its folds.
Cyrano's happier"
"You are pensive," said Roxane
thinking it was but passing mood Of
the dukes.
The duke turned toward lie Bret as
Roxane walked toward a sister in the
garden.
IN. LIE Bret" he said, at is true that
none dares openly attack your friend
But he has many foes. 1t was but yes
terday at the Queens card table that
heard them say, 'Cyrano may die yet
by accident Bid him be prudent; stay
at home"
"Cyrano prudent?" said lie Bret
"Ah, well, I'll warn him"
When Roxane'S callers had gone, and
she waited with more longing and
usefulness in her heart than she her
self even realized in the mellow after
noon for the coming of the one who all
her troubled life had been her friend
and helper.
When her callers had left her alone
Roxane played with her embroidery
silk and waited for the coming Of her
friend. Beyond the garden wall lie
Bret. advancing on his way to give
Cyrano the warning from the duke, was
suddenly stopped by Ragueneau.
Rageuneau was white to the very
lips. His eyes stuck out with horror
Listen, listen!" he cried breathless-
ly. your friend-our friend-Cyra-
no.
What is it? What is it? pressed lie
Bret in terror. shaking the unnerved
newsbearer's arm. Speak quick, man!
Speak,"
"He came from out his house just
nova little while ago He turned the
corner-he was coming here. | sa"
him. l hurried toward him. and | saw
from out a window, lackey throw q
block of wood. Perhaps an accident
But Cyrano? Oh, the cowards!"
Il ran. l saw him, sir, our friend
out poet, struck straight to the ground
bleeding from a great wound in his
head"
mot dead? Not dead?" cried LIZ
Bret in an agony of fear.
mot yet. l bore him to MS room
his garrett"
Does he suffer much?'
Not at all. He is unconscious" re-
piled Raguenau.
You called doctor?"
Zone came-he was charitable"
My poor Cyrano. Roxane must moi
learn this too suddenly. What did the
doctor say?"
ooh, | don't know. said Raguenau
impatiently. He spoke of fever
meningitis. But, pray you, come. He's
all alone. All, could you see him-al
his head bound up, his poor white face
unseeing eyes! Come! Should he
come to himself and move upon his be-
with no one near he'd die"
Raguenau drags LIE Bret away, anC
as the two hurry away by the colon
made leading to the chapel Roxant
catches sight of them and gaily call:
after them. They disappear without
answering or hearing her.
Ct ODE cOntinued)