Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1906-06-13
CHAPTER XII.
THE ROAD TO PARIS.

remember nearing Marshal Bas.
sompierre, who, of all men within my
knowledge, had the widest experience,
say that not dangers, but discomforts.
prove a man, and show what he is;
and that the worst sores in life are
caused by crumpled rose-leaves and
not by thorns.
am inclined to agree with this.
For I remember that when came from
my room on the morning after the ar
rest, and found hall and parlor and
passage empty, and all the common
rooms OF the house deserted, and no
meal laid, and when I OWNED anew
from this discovery the feeling of the
house towards me-however natural to
be expected felt as sharp pang as
when, the night before, had had to
face discovery and open rage and
s"orn. I stood in the silent, empty par
lor, and looked round me with a sense
of desolation; Of something lost and
gone, which could not replace. The
morning was gray and cloudy, the air
sharp; a shower was falling. The rose
bushes at the window swayed in the
wind, and where I could remember
the hot sunshine lying on the floor
and table, the rain beat in and stained
the boards. The main door tapped
and creaked to and fro. I thought
OF other days and other meals had
taken there, and of the scent of flow
ers. and I fled to the hall in despair.
But here, too. was no sign of life OF
company, no comfort, no attendance
The ashes Of the logs, by whose blaze
mademo1selle had told me the secret,
lay on the hearth white and cold: and
now and then drop of moisture, slid.
ing down the great chimney, battered
among them. The great door stood
open as If the house had no longer any
thing to guard. The only living thing
to be seen was hound which roamed
about restlessly. now gazing at tine
empty hearth, now lying down with
pr1cked ears and watchful eyes. Some
leaves which had been blown in rustled
in corner.
I Went out modify into the garden
and wandered down ore path and up
another, looking at the dripping woods
and remembering things, until I came
to the stone seat. On it, against the
wall, triclkling with rain-drops and
with dead leaf half filing its narrow
neck, stood the pitcher Of food. I
thought how much had happened since
mademoiselle took her hand of it and
the sergeant's lanthorn disclosed it to
me. And signing grimly, I went in
again through the parlor door.
A woman was on her knees kindling
the belated fire. stood moment,
looking at her doubtfully, wondering
how she would bear herself and what
she would say to me: and then she
turned and l cried out her name in
horror; for it was madam!
She was very plainly dressed; her
childish face was wan and piteous
with weeping. But either the night
had worn out her passion and drained
her tears, or this great exigency gave
her temporary calmness; for she was
perfectly composed. She shivered as
her eyes met mine and she blinked as
It a light had been suddenly thrust be-
fore her. But she turned again to her
task, without speaking. -.
Madam! Madam" cried, In a
frenzy Of dis:sess. what is this?"
1.-THE servants would not do it." she
answered, In low but steady voice
"You are still our guest, Monsieur an6
it must be DONE"
I Butt cannot suffer it," T cried. in
misery. madam de Cocheforet, I
will I would rather do It myself"
< She raised her hand, with strange.
patient expression on her face. Hush.
please" she said. flush! you trouble
me- = = Gs- : 81.
e>fre took light and blazed- up as
she spoke and she rose slowly from it.
and, with q lingering look at it, went:
out; leaving me to stand and stare
and listen in the middle Of the floor.
Presently. heard her, coming back
along the passage. and. she entered,
bearing tray with wine and meat and
bread She set it down on the table
and with the same wan face trembling
always on the verge Of tears, she be-
gan to lay out the things. The glasses
.cltnked pitifully against the plates &c
she handled them; the knives Jared
with one another; and 3 stood y By,
trembling myself and endured This
strange, this awful penance I.55
ss..ss ITO h Continued.l