Waterbury Democrat., 1901-05-13

| Irank brow, ana an 1nStanTS paSSl0n gleamed out of his eyes. The next he threw his three chairs down with crash as he shook his mighty frame like an Alpine dog and bowed with French 1 grace, with q campaigner's frankness. "A right rebuke, fairly given and we'll deserved. thank you for the lesson" The chasseur looked surprised and moved. In truth he was more touched than he showed. Under the rule of l Chateauroy consideration or courtesy had been 3 thing long ls-shown to him. l Inyoluntariiy, forgetful of rank, he stretched his hand out on the impulse of soldier to soldier, of gentleman to gentleman Then, as the bitter re- membranes of the difference of rank and station between them flashed on his memory, he was raising it proudly. but deferentially, in the salute of sub- ordinate to his superior, when Chanrel- lon's grasp closed sn it readily.
 The chasseur colored slightly as he remembered that he had forgotten alike his ewn position and their rela- tive stations.
 T beg your pardon, Monsieur le Viconte," he said simply as he gave the salute with ceremenious grace and I passed onward rapidly, as though he wished to forget and to have forgotten the momentary self oblivion of which he had been guilty.
 "Heavens!" muttered Chanrellon as he looked after him and struck his hand on the marble topped table till the I .r1 cl, rv;ry ,,c pay to know that fine fellows history. He is gent1eman-every inch of him."
 And good soldier, which is bet ter," growled the general of brigade, who had begun life in his time driving an OK blow over the heavy tillage of l AlSace.
 "A private of Chateauroy's, eh?' asked the tirailleur, lifting his eye glass to watch the chasseur as he went.
 "Yes- more's the pity" said Chan rellon, who spoke his thoughts as has, 1 tily as a hand grenade scatters it's pow der. "The Black Hawk hates him 1 God knows why-and he is kept down in consequence, as if he were the idlest lout or the most incorrigible rebel in I done. All the bureaus will tell you there is not n finer soldier in Africa. l His limbs are slashed all over with Bedouin steel. He rode once 20 leagues to deliver dispatches with a spear head in his side and fell in a dead l faint out of his saddle just as he gave them up to the commandant's own hands. He saved the day two years l ago at Granada. We should have been cut to pieces as sure as destiny if he had not collected q handful of broken chasseurs together and rallied them and rated them and. lashed them with their shame till they dashed with him to Q man into the thickest of the fight and pierced the Arabs center and gave us breathing room till we all charged together and beat them back like herd of jackals There are hundred more like stories of him every one of them true as my saber- and in reward he has just been made l a cerporal!'
 "Superb!" said the general, with grim significance. Twelve years in fire under Napoleon he would have been at the head of brigade. But them and the.veteran drank his absinth with a regretful melancholy-"b but, then, Ma poleon read his men himself and never read them wrong. It is divine gift l that, for commanders
 "The Black Hawk can read, too" said Chanrellon meditatively. 1t was l the nickname that Chateauroy had l gained long before, and by which he was best known through the army. 'sNo eyes are keener than his to trace general in embryo. But where he hates he strikes beak and talons-pong till the thing drops dead even when he strikes bird of his own brood.'
 That is bad" said the old general sententiously. "There are four people who should have no personal likes or dislikes They are an innkeeper, a schoolmaster, e ships skipper and military chief.''
 Meanwhile the chasseur went his way through the cosmopolitan groups l of the great square. A little farther onward, laughing, smoking, chatting, eating ices outside cafe chantant, were a group of Englishmen, yacht ing party whose schooner lay in the harbor! He fingered a moment and lighted a fusee, just for the sake of l hearing the old familiar words. But i one of them looked at him curiously and earnestly. ."The deucev he mur- mured to the man nearest him. "Who the dickens is that French soldier l like?"
 l The French soldier heard and, with the cigar in his teeth, moved away quickly. He was uneasy in the city l uneasy lest he should be recognized by any passerby or tourist.
 l T need not fear that, though,' he thought, with smile. He was dead" Therein had lain all his security; there by had Beauty of the Brigades been l buried beyond all discovery in Bella faire-peur cf the Second Chasseurs l d'Afrique. When on the Marseilles rails, during his ride toward Africa, the maceration and slaughter of as terrible an accident as ever befell train rush. ing through midnight darkness at head long speed had left himself and the one man faithful to his fortunes unharmed l by little less than 9 miracle, he had seen in the calamity the surest screen | from discovery or ngrSIlit.
 (To be Continued)