Brookings weekly register. (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1898-1903, 1900-08-23

lily, and In the aristocratic atmosphere
Of hotel in the Faubourg st. Germain
this stately father had watched the life
Of the family pride fade away. Then
In his good old Catholic piety. dignified
In all his sorrow, he had fastened to
get mass said for his boy. oh. l work
ed it up till felt quite deep regret
for the grand old sufferer, the bereav-
ed sire"
"He may have injured this De Pom
pet in some way and meant the mass
as partial atonement." suggested
Franklin knowingly.
Perhaps he did. and perhaps he was
justified in doing IT," said Herbert i'm
passvely. pressing down the ashes In
his pipe with his stubby finger. DE
Pomfet Is good. That's you. 1t was
Pomfet on the scrap of paper.
"Well, / went to my studio and for
got the incident. had too many joys
in the way Of hopes and beliefs In
those days to be greatly done up by
other peoples sorrows. BY the time
went to the little cafe where ! used to
dine-rm glad to say It's long time
since ! had to do that had forgotten
all about 1t. While the garcon was
getting me my dinner glanced
through the paper. All at once ran
across the notice Of Emil Pomfet's
death, De Pomfet.' And how do you
suppose the petted son Of my aristo-
cratic pious father wound up" contin-
ued Herbert sardonically. "a large
steel knife fell and struck him right In
the neck with such force that his head
was completely severed from his
bodyw
Franklin forbore to delay the tale by
any opinion on this melancholy Incl
dent Herbert took a puff and added,
"'The Widow bit his head Off with her
sharp TOOTH"
"Guillstinedw
THAT morning. at La Roquette, at
the cool, quiet hour Of half past 5-no
aristocrat either, but a. common ou-
vrier, who had strangled his wife to
death simply because absinth had
made him more than usually irritable.
She had a few friends. Pomfet had
none. His neighbors fiocked to the
square of La Roquette that they might
have the satisfaction of seeing him put
out OF the way.
"Well. this made my aristocratic
friend and his haste to get mass said
for such a wretch all the more mex
plicable. There was no mystery about
Pomfet. He was a workman, the COM
monest Of his kind, and had never been
anything else all his life. The wife,
though a trifie better than her brute Of
husband, was an i'll favored trollop
OF even lower social standing than he.
She was so homely that she couldn't
help being good.
II could invent TO theory to fit the
case; yet, of course, felt there must
be some reason for my severe gentle
man rushing of in such hot haste to
get prayers for an executed criminal
/ talked over the thing with Coralie.
She was a little model had In those
days. Coralie was a butterfly, CO.
quette, but with some good sense un-
der her frivolity. My description of
the fine gentleman fired her curiosity.
Perhaps he had a son who was guillo-
tined she said thoughtfully. Yes, he
looked it, said l. Then he is an Eng
lish MILFORD, retorted Coralie, with tri-
umphant conviction. Any kind or de-
gree Of eccentricity is sufficiently ac-
counted for to the French mind IL the
author Of II is an Englishman. But the
spiritual benefactor of Emil Pomfet
did not look like an Englishman, and
his clothes were Of French cut and
style. So Coralle was no help to me