The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1904-01-22
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What is this? Look"

What is this? Look!"
I glanced at 1t n started, looking
inquirtngly into my old friends face.
He avoided my eye.
l saw now upon the plate the same
arms. the same quarterings. but over
all there ran d~iagonally across the
%scutcheon a flaming bar Of red which
blazored evilly upon thu silver ground.
I understood.
What is it?" he demanded impa-
tiently. I still could find no word to
answer.
Speak out boy, what is it,"
The same, but here, over all, Is the
bendlet sinister" I scarcely dared to
look into his face.
Aye" he replied, his countenance
Hvtd with shame. "It is the bar sin
lister. the badge Of dishonor. So do
those proud arms appear in the sight OF
God, and so shall they be seen Of men.
And for generations each Lord of Jar
tillon has added to that crimson stripe
the tndelible stain of cowardice."
The master, his features working
convulsirely with hunlbled pride, his
eyes never leaving the floor, continued
reSolutely:
THE story is short. Over a hundred
years ago the Count d'Artin was MUIR
dered in his castle by the son Of a peas
ant woman, his half brother, who as
sumed the title and seized the estates.
This was easy in those times, for the
murdered man was q Huguenot, his
slayer a Catholic in the service Of
Guise, and it was the day after st.
Bartl1olomew's. The count had sent his
infant son for safety to an old friend,
the abbott Of a neighboring monastery.
p child was brought up in the Cath
Ole faith, and in him and his descend
ants resided the true right of the
Counts d'Artin. OF this they have al
ways been ignorant. The usurper on
his deathbed repented. and calling his
story. exacting a solemn oath that he
would find the disinherited one and re-
store to him his own. This oath was
Kept in part. His son, Raoul d'Ortez,
found the child, then an officer in the
army, but lacked the courage to de-
clare his own shame, and relinquish the
price of his fathers crime. BY that
Raoul d,Ortez this loclzet was made,
ana the same vow and the same tradi-
ton We're handed down to me. I have
no child. God knows I would give UP
h accursed heritage If I could.
During all these years a careful
record has been kept OF the true
lineage, which was only broken in my
fathers time. Here in this packet are
the papers which prove it; I confde
them to you upon my death. After I
am gone l want you to fine the last
d'Artin.'
He vas silent now a long time, then
continued in a lower tone: MY mother
was OF the reformed religion and I en-
braced her faith. It seems like a 1udg-
ment of God that I, a H~uguenot, should
lose Under King Louis what my Catho-
nc ancestor gained under King Challes.
Now go, lad"
I could say nothing, but touching his
hand in mute sympathy turned away
without a word.
I had almost reached the door when
he sprang after and again detained me.
His glance searched a~pprehensively
into the shadoWy corners Of the room,
his voice wavered, the look OF a hunted
animal crept into his eyes.
IT'S said" he whispered, the rest
less spirits of my fathers yet haunt
our castle in Normandy-oh, merciful
God, 90 you believe it? oh, no, no,
after all these troubled years I fain
would find a dreamless slumber in my
grave"
I soothed him as 1 would a frightened
child, and left him standing at the
door.