Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-11-27
brolenly sobbed. leaning helpless against

brokenly sobbed. leaning helpless against
him.
The old marquis snnoothed her head, and
puckered his forehead under the sunlight,
casting his eyes around like a culprit.
''It was desperate. But could do Moth
ing else! You see it has succeeded. While
/ lay in hiding, the sight of the child,
and your youth, has softened Bonaparte.
That was my intention, Eagle"
1.-The peasants should have told me you
were living!"
''They didn't know I came back. Many
of them think I died In America. The
family of Les Rockers have been very
faithful; and the notary has held his
tongue. We must reward them, Eagle.
I have been hidden very closely. am
tired of such long hiding"
He looked toward the chateau and lifted
his voice sharply
where's the baby? I haven't seen the
babyi"
With gracious courtesy, restraining an
impulse to plunge up the steps, he gave
her his arm; and she swayed against 1t
as they entered.
When I could see them no more. rose.
and put my snurbox In my breast. The
key ratified in it.
A savage need of hiding when so
wounded, worked first through the disor-
der that let me see none of the amenities
of leave-taking. self-command, conduct.
I was beyond the gates, bare-headed,
walking with long strides. when an old
mill caught my eye, and turned towards
it, as we turn to tribes to relieve US from
uncomfortable tension. The water dripped
over the wheel, and long green beard
trailed from the chin down the sluice. In
this quieting company Skenedonk spied
me as he ratified past with the post-car-
riage; and considering my behavior at
other times, he was not enough surprised
to waste any good words Of Oneida.
He stopped the carriage and got in.
He pointed ahead toward a curtain of
trees which screened the chateau.
"Parisr' I answered.
Paris" he repeated to the position,
and we turned, about. looked from hill
to stream, from the fruited brambles of
blackberry to reaches of noble forest, re-
alizing that should never see those lands
again, or the neighboring crest where my
friend the marquis slept
We posted the distance to Paris In TWO
days.
What the country was like or what
towns we passed could not this hour de-
clare with any certainty. At first making
effort and cropping numbly in my mind,
but the second day grasping determine
ton, 1 formed my plans, and talked them
over with Skenedonk We would sail for
America on the first convenient ship;
waiting in Paris only long enough to pre-
pare for the post journey to port. Charg-
es would willingly stay in Paris while the
De Chaumonts remained there.
Beyond the voyage 1 did not look. The
first Juggling of my foster country began
to pull me as it had pulled many a brok-
en- wretch out of the conditions of the
older world.
Paris was horrible. with a lonesomeness
no one could have foreseen in its crowd
ed streets. taste Of war was in the air.
Troops passed to review. Our post-car-
riage met the dashing coaches of gay
young men / knew. who stared at me
without recognition. Marquis du Plessy
no longer made way for me and displayed
me at his side.
1 drove to his hotel in the FaubOurg st
German for my possessions. 1t was
closed; the distant relative who inherited
after him being an heir with no Partisan
tastes. The care-taker, however, that
gentle old valet ike a woman, who had
dressed me in my first Partisan finery,
let us in, and waited upon US with food
I sent him to buy. He gave me letter
from my friend, which he had held to
deliver on my return, in case any acct
dent befell the marquis. He was trem-
ulous in his mourning, and all his ardent
care of me was service rendered to the
dead.
1 sat in the garden, with the letter
spread upon the table where we had
dined. Its brevity was gay. The writer
would have gone under the knife with