Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1901-09-15
A WOMAN OF FIRE.
By JOHN FOSTER FRASER,
Author of "a Lover by Proxy" Jenkins of the 52nd, "Bat-
ters," "The Deputy Collector &c.

! Rue Fermey, her own exaltation TO
leadership of the mob, the commotion,
the bewildering scene in the Place aux
Marches, her speech, the dash of the
den throb of manhood in the breast of
the commander not to spill the blood
of women; all those sights ebbed to
her, but dimly. hazily, like a dream.
The room where she sat was plain
and bare. And yet there was sweet
charm about it, hardly deinable, but
telling a woman had arranged 1t.
This day was sultry, and Juliette sat
long by the window seeking fresh air.
Her eyes wandered over the tumbled
piles of quaint and contorted roofs. In
places smoke rose from houses in o n
fagration, and she wondered II all
Paris wcu,c be RACED to the ground. At
times she heard the thud and patter-
of muskctry, and she unused i've the
fate of those whom the bullets found.
Through all her thoughts, however,
only half-confessed to herself, there
ran one thread of thought, of dread
and anxiety, often whitening her
cheek.
Why vas there no word from Paul
Lemare?
For DAYS she had been musins thus.
Was he dead? Many a hot-brained
young revolutionist had gone to his
death these last weeks.
She was thinking so IN the hot noon
when she started. She sat upright
j., with color coming and going on her
/ cheek and her breast rising and fall
ing quickly.
There was noise of heavy steps on
the stair, of someone awkward in
haste clambering the steep steps.
The woman ran to the door and
threw it open.
"Juliotte!"
paul,
"The Bastile has fallen and France
is saved. Down with the t%yrants.'
The man was shaking with excite
ment. His face was grimy, his mouth
all dirt with powder, his eyes hollow,
the ribbons of the tri-color in his hat
b~edraggled and scoty.
1.-The Bastile has TALENT he ex-
claimed again, marching in the room.
"Juliette, the Bastiie has fGllen!'
He had eyes for nothing. The fate
full news of which he was the bringer
e%nwrapped him.
The woman stood silent, with her
head bent and the tears coursing her
pale cheek.
"Juliette," said the soldier, spring
ing forward, conscious now something
was amiss, "Juliette, love, what is it,"
In soft whispering, strangely in con-
trast to the %uproarious man, she said:
my mother is dead"
The man gasped. He would have
spoken, but words would not come. A
chill ran through him. He put his
arm about the woman and led her to
the light. She was a willing captive.
He held her to him while he stroked
back the tear-wet hair from the cheeks
and kissed her on the lips.
"And l never thought" he said, with
trembling voice.
you look tired" observed the girl,
quietly, opening her eyes and looking
into the mans face.
mo. There's been no sleep for
some days, but there's work-oh, Jul
iette, there's work for men like me-"
He threw aside his dusty hat with
the sooty ribbons and showed his head
of thick hair, matted and with bits OF
straw in it. His eyes, with the dar
rings beneath, were as lustrous as
those of the he loved.
Your clothes are torn and your
shoes. oh! your shoes are broken
added the girl, holding him at arms
length and inspecting him through her
tears.
u.s. tltlt nave pNNh ooOAp
ter in. walls to pull down, hard fight
ings at night. But Juliette, feel
strong, and there is yet work"
He was long and 1.-THE, with steel
muscles. A strong will showed in every
line of his features.
"Are you a soldier now?" asked Ju-
liette
"A soldier of the people" answered
Paul, proudly, ito do war with the
soldiers of the Court"
A thin smile came to his lips as he
added: I'm not like the old Paul, am
I. Paul Lemare, the baker? But there's
no corn now to make bread, only the