The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1900-05-22
THE ZOUAVE.

On the evening of my story George
Lory, the first blacksmith of Sainte-
Marie-aux- Mines, was in an unhappy
frame of mind.
1t had always been his habit as soon
as the forge fire was extinct and the
sun had set to seat himself on bench
before his door, and, while enjoying
that lassitude which hard work on
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 himP'
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 ILL.,. /"
But as she dared not ask she occu-
pied herself in trying to quiet her three
faxen 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:
ooh, the cowardsl Oh, the sooun
drelsp'
"What is the matter. Lory9" asked
his wife
Then the root of the whole matter
came to light.
81 am speaking of those five or six
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 Africal What magic po-
ton 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 homesiok,
and it must have been such tempta-
ton for them to come back, such a
temptation not to have to be soldiers
any longerr'
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,
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 French soldier l would run him
through with my sword. F." 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
est Alsatian face, tanned by the sun,
that the sight suddenly Gained the IA
Their, and he said laughingly:
sit was we'll looked at the picture.
AS if our Christian could become Prus-
sian |"
Put into better humor by this idea,
the good man gayly finished his dinner,
and soon followed it up with a couple
of pints of beer at the Vile de Stras-
bourg inn.
At last his wife was alonel
After putting the little fiaxen 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, | know it we'll, 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
zouave, filing his watering can at the
we'll near by her.
Suddenly she started. The little gate
ut the end of the garden which opened
on the fields was ajar. The dogs had
not barked, notwithstanding the fact
that some one had come over the wall
like robber and was gliding in and
out among the beehives.
"Mother p
Her Christian stood before her,
ashamed and troubled, his tongue thick
from drink, his uniform disheveled.
The miserable lad had returned from
Africa with the others, but for an hour
had been rambling outside the house
waiting for his fathers departure. His
mothor felt it her duty to scold him,
but she had not the heart to do 1t. 1t
had bSen such long time since she had
seen him. So she embraced him instead.
Then he gave her such good reasons
for his return. He hated the country
where he had been. 1t grieved him to
be SO far away from home, and his COM
rades called him a Prussian because OF
his Alsatian accent. He told her all
this, and she believed it. She only had
to look at him to believe anything.
Talking necessarily. they entered the
house.
The Youngsters awoke and ran in in
their nightgowns, barefooted, to en-
brace their big brother. They wanted
him to eat something, but he was not
hungry, only thirsty-oh, SO thirsty J
So he drank pints Of water in place OF
the wine and beer to which he had been
treating himself all day at the inn.
A step was heard in the court. Alas,
it was the blacksmith returning
'Christian, there is your father
Hide yourself quickly until | have time
to speak to him to explain ALI cried
the mother, pushing her son behind the
great earthenware stove, while she start
ed to sewing ouce more with trembling
fingers Unfortunately the zouave's cap
rested on a chair, and it was the first
thing Lory saw when he entered. This,
then, explained his wife's pallor, her
embarrassment He understood it all
"Christian is here r. he cried furious
", and, taking down his saber, with a
gesture of rage rushed behind the stove,
where the zouave. pale and sobered,
was crouchinQ. leaning against the wall
for fear of falling.