Kingsbury County independent. (DeSmet, Kingsbury County, S.D.) 1894-1929, 1909-01-22
The Crime of ''sz.;;s me. !"
s & ys:' the Boulevard

Somber-held me In his arms n burs
into tears. His embrace was that Of
man who concentrates in one being al
that remains of hope.
"Thou-thou are here" he said IN
low tone. If thou knewesti'
Il was moved TO the depths of m.
heart. That manly face, usually SO n
ergetic, wore an expression of terror
which was in some way almost child
ish, a timorous fright. The tears ros,
In his eyes.
"'Oh, how i have waited for thee
how / have longed for thee!'
IL repeated this phrase with anx-
ious obstinacy. Then he seemed to be
suffocating. Emotion! The sight OF
me recalled to him the long agony OF
that night when he thought that nc
was about to die without parting with
me for the last time.
For what | have to tell thee
III shook his head.
1T is the secret OF my life
II was lying on a sort of sick chair
or lounge I'm the library where he
passed his last days with his books.
He made me sit down beside him. He
took my hand and said:
II am going to die. / believed that
the end had come last night. called
thee. oh, well, IL / had died there Is
one being In the world who would not
have had the fortune which, have
He lowered his voice as if he
thought we were spied upon, as If
someone could hear.
u have a daughter. Yes, even from
thee ] have hidden this secret, which
fortunes me. A daughter who loves me
and who has not the right TO confess
this tenderness no more than I have
the right to give her my name. All,
our youth, sad youth! / might have
a a home today, a fireside of my own,
q dear one near me, and instead Of Ia
an affection of which | am ashamed
and which / have hidden even from
thee, J~acques-from thee, dost thou
comprehend
II remember each of Rovere's words
as If I was hearing them now. This
conversation with my poor friend is
among the most poignant yet most pre-
cious of my remembrances. With much
emotion, which distressed me, the o
man revealed to me the secret which he
had believed II his duty to hide from
me so many years, and / vowed to him
Il swore to him on my honor, and that
is why / hesitated to speak or rather
refused to speak, not wishing to COM
promise anyone, neither the dead nor
living-I swore to him, NJ. le Juge. TO
repeat nothing OF what he told me 10
anyone, to nyone but to her.
"Her?" Intercepted NJ. Ginory.
His daughter" Dantin replied.
The examining magistrate recalled
that visitor In black who had been seen
occasionally at Rovere's apartments
and the little romanc OF which Paul
Roller had written in his ~paper-the
romance of the woman I'm black.
And this daughter7 ?"
She BEARS said Dantin, with a dis
couraged gesture, 'the name of the
father which the law gives her, and
this name is a great name, an Illus
trfous name, that OF a retired general
officer living in one of the provinces, a
widower, and who adores the girl who
IS another mans child. The mother is
dead. The father has never been
When dying, the mother re-
n secret TO the daughter. She
came, by command of the dead, to see
Revere, but as a sister of charity, !
to the name which she bears.
she does not wish TO marry. She will
never leave the crippled old soldier
who calls her his daughter and who
adores her"
"Oh!" said M. Ginory, remaining
mute a moment before this very simple
drama, and in which, in that moment
or reflection he comprehended, he an
nearly all of the hidden griefs. |
the secret tears, the stified sobs. the
stolen kisses. And that is why you
silent he asked. |
Yes, monsieur. Oh, but / could not
pndure the torture any longer, and not
seeing the expected release any nearer
| would nave spoken--I would have
TO escape hat cell, that sense
of suffocation, l endured there. II
TO me-, however, that I owed II
to my dead friend not to reveal his Sc
cret TO anyone, not even to you. / shall
never forget Rovere's Joy when, re-
of the burden by the confidence
which he a reposed in me, he said
10 me that, now that she who was his
laughter and was o living at Blois
only on the pension OF a retired officer
to whom she had appointed herself
nurse, knowing that she was not his
daughter, this innocen child, who has
with a life OF devotion for the
sins OF two guilty ones, would at least
have happiness at last.
She Is young, and the one for whom
she cares cannot live always. My for
will give her a dowry. And them
1T was TO me to whom he conaded
this fortune. He had very little money
with his notary. Erratic and distrust-
Revere kept his valuables In his |
safe, as he kept his books in his library.
IL seemed that he was a collector, pick |
ing up all kinds OF things. Avaricious?
No, but he wished to have about him.
under his hand, everything which be-
TO him. He possibly may have
wished to give what he had directly to
the one whom II seemed good to him
TO give 1t and confide it to me in
II regret not having asked him di-
rcctly that day what he counted on do
ing with his fortune and how he in
tended enriching his child whom he !
had not the right TO recognize. I dared
not, or, rather, / did not, think OF II.
I experienced a strong emotion when /
my friend enfeebled n almost
dying. I had known him so different, |
SO handsome. Oh. those poor, sad.
restless eyes, hat lowered voice, as III
he feared an enemy was listening! Ill
ness had quickly, brutally changed that
vigorous man, suddenly old and timor-
GUS.
II went away from that first inter
view much distressed, carrying a Sc
cret which seemed to me a heavy and
cruel one and which made me think OF
the uselessness, the wickedness, the
vain loves of a ruined life. But I felt
that Revere owed truly his fortune to
that girl who, the next day after the
death OF thu one whom h had
piously attended, found herself poor
and isolated In a little Gus In a steep
street. near the chateau. above Blois.
/ felt that whatever this unknown IA
iher left ought not TO go to distant
relatives, who cared nothing for him.
did not even know him, were ignor-
OF his sufferings and perhaps even
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