The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-12-02
CHAPTER Viii
The End of the Plav

practice the attempt to escape, the first
| definite possibility of which had come to
him that afternoon. Indeed, it had grown
| upon him with each passing moment. He
| lay awake for hours after he had retired
and Anatole had been dismissed, waiting
until the people in the chateau, except the
guards at the gate and the watchnen on
| the walls, had all gone to sleep. And for
| true knight his thoughts at least were
| recreant, since he dreamed not of the
Lady Anne but of freedom.
Toward midnight he arose, dressed him.
self quickly, and softly stole through the
deserted halls, until he came to the un-
occupied chamber in the round tower.
! No especial watch was kept upon him,
| no guards were stationed upon the tower
! and but few on the seward side Of the
| chateau. Moving circumspectly he had
! met no one nor had he attracted the at
| tention of any sleeper.
He stepped quickly, through the great
! room to the oriel. He stood for mo-
| ment on the balcony looking out to sea-
1t was bright moonlight night. Away
on the horizon twinkled the faint yellow
| lights Of the English ships Far below
him in the shadow of the cliffs the waves
were breaking in sullen splashing upon
| the ~splintered shore. He could hear the
| rhythmical persistent beat Of their tire
! less assault upon the rocks, see the white
water, shot with phosphorescent sparks,
| churned into foam over the reefs at the
| foot Of the cliffs 49,,
/ He heSitated as he SURVEYED the scena.
| although his purpose was unchanged, he
realized as he had not before, that his
undertaking was fraught with the great
| est danger: He might reach the foot Of
the cliff alive or he might not = The
chances were against him.. Things looked
differently In the night time. A slip, a
| mls-step, a fall, and death would be the
tVuyn him
feet below, with the white foam for a.
shroud, and the ebbing tide to bear him
far out to sea. .@ y:I..t1 q
Yet he must: needs go on. But as he
made ready to descend. his thoughts sud
denly went back to the little girl who
mad been his playmate during the past
few weeks. He had almost forgotten her
for the moment. Was he a recreant
knight thereby? His conscience ) re-
preached him. Strange as it may SEEM
he felt a keen pang of regret when he
realized that once he stepped over the
palcony wall and essayed the. descent he
should be parted from her forever In
death or in liberty they would be equally
separated. The little Rose Of the Rohans
to see her no more! The thought gave
him peculiar feeling. He paused, re-
1uctant: He was surprised at himself.
The little maiden with her mingling OF
Childish Innocence and womanly charm
had grown very dear to him, and the. ioy
ne anticipated, in soon regaining his lib
erty was sadly dirnmed by tn, certain
SADNESS OF that inevitable parting; Yet
the feeling was not strong enough to de-
ter him then. 1t was deep enough, how
ever, to give him pause He fingered.
| thinking swiftly. It was duty that turned
the scale-duty and love are antagonists
| Of old.
! He had learned something about the
French fleet in Brest and the location of
the defences in the harbor in his rapid
ride through the town when he came to
| the chateau, and from his frequent al
| though apparently cursory examinations
Of the position from the towers and. walls
he had learned more. His information
would be Of great value. He was an Off
Ger OF the king, and when the possibility
OF escape presented itself, at all hazards
he must make an, effort to reach the ships
The marquis had spoken once or. twice
about exchange, but nothing had yet come
from it and such matters were slow at
| best. 4
AS it seemed more feasible, as the pos
sibility approached nearer, his desire
grew. The OBTAINING image of the French
girl grew fainter. Duty, liberty, freedom,
action-what child could stand in tho
way? Therefore again he determined to
attempt the descent. Yet it was a for
| bidding undertaking now that he had
settled upon it. 1t had seemed easier in
| the daylight than at night time. =. The
bend of the wall cast the corner in a
black shadow the more intense on &C.
count of the brightness of the moonlight
| beyond.
j His mind was in a strange turmoil.
ve-liberty-what would be the
end? Pshaw! He would think no more
he would do it.! ~
! He climbed up on the stone railing
of the balcony, turned his back toward
the tower, slid along the coping stone
until he could feel the angle between
the walls with his hand his shoulders
touching either side of the angle He
held firmly to the coping Of the balcony
which he determined not to let go OF
until he was sure of foot rest Then
he stretched out his right leg and felt
about in the shadow until finally his foot
hit the first projection. He breathed i
prayer and prepared to descend. He was
glad the angle was in the shadow He
could not see what was beneath him. The
black cliffs under his feet hid their ter.
rors from him. He intended to try it with
his, face outward, his back in the angle
; his hands and feet outstretched, clutchins
at or feeling for every inequality. He wa:
about to let go. Another moment anC
; he had gone, when he felt a familiar little
hand laid upon his arm. ~
r Come back, come back, YOU will be
Killed. whispered small frightened
voice. He was so startled in spite of the
| ,!~P -. ~ IL