The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1899-11-19
CHAPTER /.
HOW POMPON BECAME An
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Perhaps it is because the tragedy o
Fotheringay is still fresh in my milne
that my eyes linger sadly ON the fadet
roses i have taken from any cabinet an,
placed with tender hands before me.
1T is n week ago since Blancheforet
on his way back from Paris, drew rein
at Besme to give me the news of tina
deed of infamy, and left me STUNNED
and bewildered, as he galloped off, red
spurred, to bear the tidings ito Male
ZieuX.
There are those who say she deserved
her death; there are stories, 4 know
about her; but they lie i'm their throat,
who repeat them, and | blush with shame
for my country that no sword was drawn
to save her who was once queen OF
France.
AS | stare at the flowers before me
their delicate fragrance RETURNS to them
they seem to bloom again in their rich
crimson splendor and the memory oil
that might i'm June, when | received then
frogn the hands of Mary of Scotland
comes back to me, so that my heart is
full and my eyes grow dim.
She was of those women BORN to be
queens over men; of those women who
come once in a Thousand years, who are
i'm themselves the embodied spirits of ro-
nance. and for whose smile men would
throw aside life, riches, empire, even
honor, as lightly as a worm-out glove.
1t was my fate to come within the
range OF her power and | Gid as the
rest. the poor gentleman of Quercy-
the kings jester-dared to love her.
And vet was not mad; the feeling i'm
my heart was as if / had met in flesh
ard blood that vision of the perfect wo-
man which lies in all mems souls. There
was AN fmmeasurable distance between
us. / knew all that. | nursed mo idle
hopes / looked upon her as Il shephers,
can the mountains might gaze upon the
morning star-as some wandering angel
of light that had come, to pass away,
yet never to be forgotten.
And so, because a jester must have
something of the poet in his spirit, | was
accustomed to day-dream little, and
used to slip out from the Louvre into
that wilderness of a garden that stretched
as far as the walls of Paris, between the
Tour de Bots and the Porte st. Honore.
and lose myself there in enchanted
dreams. The place exists TO longer.
hear. 1t is all changed now, since the
Medicis began the new palace of the
Thileries, near the tile-felds; and the
sweet disorder of my garden has given
place to sedate parterres. trimly-cut
hedges. and WALKS that look like dia-
grams i'm the book of Euclid THAT Lorg-
nae used to pore over at college and /
hated with bitter hatred.
But at the time / speak of, when the
sun was bright and the flowers We're
out, except my own home in the far-off
Quercy there was no spot more lovely
to my mind than those neglected walks
where the Eilnd-rweed and dog-rose starred
the hedges where the celandfne and red
campien made "a gay border to the green
rides, and from amidst its spotted leaves,
the cuckoo-plant lifted its purple ward,
dripping with dew Here, ON a grassy
bank near an old oak. / would lie for
hours. listening to the hum of the city
that was so near and yet so far, aald
building my castles in cloudlamd. whilst
Pompon, my ape, gambolled iii the
branches above me. And here one morn
ing in june | took my lutte. and. with
Pompon holIbling grayely at my heels,
sought my retreat, to eat my lotus and
he happy i'm my dreams | had almost
come to the old rose pleasance, beyond
which lay my oak, when | met Lorgnac
face to face, ais he stepped through a gap
i'm the hedge. and stobd in the middle of
the path. His drawn sword was in his
hand, aud for once the color was out of
his cheek, and his lips set and hard, maxi
ing him look. though he was nut fiye-and-
twenty. man touching ON middle age
You. cannot pass he said, stiftiy
withoi: any other gre, ing: and whist
/ stopped for a moment in amaze, Pom
pom. who knew him well, ran up to him
and began clutclling at his cloak for a
caress; b,lt Inc shook the ape from him
with a curse, saying again:
You cannot pass, de Besme. Go
back
He called me by my own name. which
NE knew well, for we We're next-door
n,ighbors in the Quercy, and sworn
friends at college. and ever after. Only
last might he had hidden me a laughing
adieu, calling me LIE Brusquet, the nick
name by which | was known to my init
mates, and indeed to all the court; and
now here he was, cold and stiff as a
Spaniard, ordering me off the path as if
] were a street beggar.
But | took him quietly. Whistling
Pompon back to me, | said:
Come, Lorgnac. i am only going to
my oak"
..YorI cannot pass" he interrupted,
speaking like a machine.
''Tu-dieu!' ] burst out, my temper ris-
ing, IF it is the kings order. / go back;
but if it is some grasshopper you have
in your head, monsieur" / clapped my
hand to my side, forgetting that / wore
but a gilded wooden sword, and as my
fingers touched the hilt l stopped, dis
concerted. and began to laugh And
while j laughed Lorgnac caught the hu-
NOR of it, and began smiling, too, as he
stepped forward, and put his hand ON
my shoulder.
"No, old friend! There must be no
quarrel between us, but j pray you, go
back"
rs the road then blocked"
Yes" he said in a hesitating voice,
and / was about TO shrug my shoulders
and turn away, when there was a rust
hing an the hedge, and a man leaped
lightly through, saying i'm am alarmed
voice:
"Lorgnac, We are watched-spied up
on And then he stopped and stared
lat me, and /, too, stared back i'm blank
astonlshment, for it was the Prince of
Condo, the second nt.inca of tho blood