The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1900-04-27
s.why, the man died this very dayr

Why, the man died this very dayy
I exclaimed. The priest took back the
paper and put it in his breviary. That
Is all know about the gentleman he
said snappishly, and came out.
"HeFe it was not half past 6 of the
day on which the man had died. and
my fine man, grave and cloaking his
grief so bravely, had come piously to
get his help for his lost one.+ He had
probably come straight from the death
bed of Emil Pomfet that his poor soul
might get as little purgatory as possi-
BILE.
81 could understand the grave, well
groomed man walking up the church
in the shadow. He had no heart for
sunshine. OF course l began to con-
| lecture who Emil Pompet was, and it
| didn't take much to convince me that
| he was the son, the only son, the
young, brilliant, promising boy whom
his ambitious father idolized. Ny
heart went out to NJ. Pompet. Prob
| ably he belonged to some fine old fam
| lily, and in the aristocratic atmosphere
of a 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, dignifed
| in all his sorrow, he had fastened to
get mass said for his boy. oh, 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
passively. pressing down the ashes in
his pipe with his stubby finger. "'De'
| Pomfet is good. That's you. It 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 I
went to the little cafe where I used to
dine-FEl glad to say it's long tine
since had to do that had forgotten
| all about it. While the garcon was
| getting me my dinner / glanced
| i
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. ga large
steel knife fell and struck him right in
the neck v til such force that his head
was completely severed from his
bodyr'
Franklin forbore to delay the tale by
dent. Herbert took puff and added,
"'The Widow bit his head of with her
sharp TOOTH"
"GuillotinedY
! "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 focked 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 workm, |, the COM
monest of his kind, and had never been
anything else all his life. The wife,
though trifie better than her brute of
Of even lower social standing than he.
She was so homely that she couldn't
help being good.
II could invent no theory to fit the
case; yet, of course, l felt there must
be some reason for my severe gentle
man rushing off in such hot haste to
get prayers for an executed criminal
talked over. the thing with Coralie.
She was little model l had in those
days. Coralie was a butterfly, co.
Quette, but with some good sense I'M
der her frivolity. My description of
the fine gentleman fred her curiosity.
Perhaps he had son who was guillo-
tined, she said thoughtfully. Yes, he
looked it, said l. Then he is an Eng
lish milord,' retorted Coralie, with tri-
umphant conviction. Any kind or de-
gree of eccentricity is sufficiently ac-
counted for to the French mind If the
author Of it 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 Coralie was no help to me
by her explanation. She asked me two
or three questions about him which
showed that my description had arous-
ed her interest. How old was he? Did
he seem wealthy? Was he triste or
only grave and distingue?"
perhaps he was devout Catholic"
said Franklin musingly, ''and felt that
it was a beautiful work of spiritual
mercy to have masses said for the gull
lotined. They can't have too many
prayers offered for them. Coralie's
idea was not bad one either.'
! ''Well, it happened that about a
! month after this some other poor devil
had his head chopped of at La Ro-
quette. 1t was a good year for mur-
! ders, and The Widow buried her wick
J ed tooth in many q neck. That after
! noon Coralie could hardly keep quiet
enough to pose. 1 saw she was fer
menting with some news. AS soon as
J was through she said, with much anil
nation. 7 have seen him, and he is a
. lovely, perfect gentleman, much hand
somer than you said.'
: "'Who is? What are you talking
o1,