Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-12-24

l so De her last visit that day, and l then, attracted by a commotion out- side, she had gone to the window l A little cortege filled the street be- l low. Some soldiers bore upon their shoulders a rude wooden box. Over it i was laid the golden-lilied white flag of France, and upon the flag handsome ] sword. A half-dozen men, holding pine torches whose hickering, wagering 1 flames cast an uncertain illumination l over the scene, walked by the make l shift coffin. Immediately beh ind came 1 a few priests, and then Monsieur de Ramesay and his staff, and a little htd- dle of townspeople-th idle and the l curious.
 There were no strains of martial 1 music; there was neither blare of bugle nor roll of drum, nor tolling bells There was no ceremony, no 1 pomp: there were no women even.
 Anne leaned her head upon the case ment, her tears falling softly. Her body shook with sobs Grafton stared. at her keenly and curiously. There was strange pain at his heart when l he saw her weep.
 Presently the funeral procession passed the window The lights from l the torches, almost at level with her l face in the window of the low-studded i old house, threw it into high and bright relief She was off her guard, not l thinking of herself or even of Grafton, l for the moment. It was the first time that he had been able to see her well. Suggestions of the truth came across him with a sense of shock, and yet he did not quite recognize her. He was not sure. It could not be.
 .sMademoiseI1e, he said softly, '.you told me your name was
 ..De Couedic. Yes. monsieur" she 1 answered. with her eyes still fixed upon the street, though he noticed that she turned her face away from him.
 Was she discovered at last? Could 1 he suspect, she thought l T had thought" !" hs continued, then ! he stopped.
 s'MademoiselIe, you weep" he said.
 stYes, monsieur
 l 'tWho passes in the street? Those lights, what are they?"
 Monsieur. 2 funeral l Whose funeral, mademoisel1e?' { ''Alas, monsieur, think 1t is the burial of New France"
 "Mademoiselle? ?"
 Iris the funeral of the Marquis de Montcalm, monsieur He is being borne to his last rest. z
 ''He was a brave man. Mademoiselle de Couedic, and he died as soldier would fain die, in the front of the battle line. '
 esHe was my grandfather's friend. monsieur, and mine. He was so good to me. know his wife, his children, He loved them and longed to go back to them. But he loved his coun- try, his duty, his king, more than ali. monsieur, and so he stayed, and now he will never go back any more.
 She put her face down in her hands and sobbed bitterly. People are as little children when they weep. Where had he seen that bowed head ]? Heav- ems! was it not upon his own should CT? Why, the picture was the same! The moonlight was stealing through the easement just as before. She wore something hlmy and white. It might have been that night-robe that had enshrouded the slender girl His heart beat so that it nearly suffocated him, and yet-de Couedic? It could not be!
 "Mademoiselle," he said, all the pass sion surgsng In his soul Quivering In his voice, .'do not weep. By heaven, {. do not know how or why 1t is, but to see you weep tears my very heart! Can it be that I saw you but yester- day and loved you. madenoiselle?" ?"
 She turned and faced him. The feel ing in his voice, the look in his eyes, as she stared at him, so perfectly matched her own she had no will nor power to withstand any longer. De- liberately she fetched light from be- hind the curtain and set 1t down on the table at the head of his bed; then she stood where the full light would fall on her face, and drawing herself up threw out her arms wide before him.
 "Monsieur!' she cried. f.oh, do you not know me
 eIs it thou, Little France?o he ex- claimed, dazed and bewildered by his thoughts. s'Who could have thought it? How beautifuI!''
 She dashed away the tears with her hand. She thought he had not yet recognized her, as he lay spellbound gazing on her matchless beauty. Her scarlet lips quivered moment, then shaped themselves for sound, and from her full, soft throat came the notes of the little Breton cradle-song which he had heard her sing in the garden of the Hesperides, 'Toutouie, Ia, la" But no mother ever sang it to child as she sang it then.
 Anne! he cried. 'The Lady Anne! Fool that was! How blind! !. I should have known you! I should have rec ognized your footstep even had lain dead at your doorstep"
 'sSir Philip! Sir Philip!" she ex- claimed How could you forget? But knew! Oh, my love, my love!'
 She sank on her knees at the bed- }, side again and leaned over him. 'tBut you are betrothed to de Vitre?'' he cried in jealous anguish.