The Bon Homme County independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1904-1913, 1910-07-21

a man, and my mother was more en-
crossed In her son than in her fields.
SO our fortunes dwindled from year to
year., and the revolution struck them
the final blow. We were at the enc Of
our u and, a month ago, my
mother wrote to M. de Benseval, at
Poitiers. stating u circumstances
frankly and releasing him from his en-
gagement. In reply came a tearse note
saying that his engagement was with
the dead, not with the living, and so
was doubly sacred; that on the day
that l was 21 he would expect me to
set out for Poitiers, where his daugh-
ter woul be awaiting me-"
And them" asked my companion In
a voice which seemed a little tremul-
Gus.
Well, mademoiselle. yesterday I
was 81"
And you set out as M. de BensevaI
commanded? ?"
Yes, at daybreak."
~"Joyfully, no doubts"
yes, joyfully-why attempt to con-
ceal it? l told myself that / was going
to execute my fathers last command,
that he was looking down upon me
with approving eyes. So l was very
happy"
You have forgotten another reason
for that happiness, nave you not, mon
sieur?"
Another r~eason?"
You have said nothing of the lady"
Really, madamoiselle," l said, in
some confusion, II fear I scarcely
thought of her. / was only a boy.
I had never been out into IN world.
All women were the same to me-"
You mean that they are no longer
SOP" she asked, and again / saw her
eyes cleaning up at me from the
shadow.
80 little so, mademoiselle." I an
swered, hoarsely, that I am longing
to throw myself into the war in La
Vendee in the hope that a kindly bullet
will deliver me from the fate prepared
for me. Death, 1t seems to me, is
preferable to that a thousand times"
Come, monsieur" she protested,
lightly, you exaggerate; indeed, 1 can
assure you that, a mont from now,
you will again find life very tolerable."
why a month from now?"
Because, in that time o will be
married, you will have become accus-
toned to your wife, your heart will
forgotten the mood of this evening or,
If you recall 1t, 1t will be with a smile
OF amusement, as at q boyish folly"
You may think so, perhaps" I said,
bitter that / should be 80 misunder-
stood.
You ask for my advice" she re-
torted, and yet you grow angry when
/ give 1t. Shall 1 not say what 1 be-
lever"
Pardon me-" I begged. but you do
not yet understand. 1 have told you
that l hav passed my whole life with
my mother-for me, she was the only
woman in the world"
" nd 81 .ha alxa 1 l-.,a
sworn that h was Turing me on, but
for the gross a~bsurdity of such a
thought.
Now there is still only one woman,
medemoiselle, but 1t is not the same
one" I answered simply.
To this, for a moment, she found no
reply, but sat gazing out at the river
with pensive eyes. The moon had risen
above the tree-tops, seeking her; and
finding her at last. caressed and threw
a halo round her. 1 turned a little
gidd: at her pure, tr~anscendent beauty,
and my heart hungered for her.
At last she reused herself.
We'll, monsieur she said, NOW that
perhaps l understand a little better,
do you still desire my advice?"
Yes, mademoiselle; more han I can
say"
Not, I hope, as to whether you
should prove false to this betrothal?"
"Oh. no. I answered.; there can be
no question Of that. That Is a matter
which concerns not my honor alone,
but that of my father, also"
YES" she assented; IN. de Bense-
val was right; the engagement Is with
the dead, and SO Is doubly sacred. So
far we are agreed. What is it. then,
that you propose?"
II propose to turn aside from my
journey to Poiters and follow M. le
Comte back to the Bocage. Can I do
this with honor, mademoiselle 2"
What will you do in the Bocage?"
Il will seek death" I answered, and
I know that I spoke sincerely. And
1t may be that my death will be of
some service to France"
She sat for a moment looking up at
me, a strange light in her eyes.
II do not like to advise" she began.
at last, and I fancied that her lips
were trembling. 1T is so serious q
Il beg you to-" I urged. 1T is the
greatest favor you can do me-"
"A man is the best judge Of his own
duty"
He should be-" I admitted; but in
this case I fear that I cannot see
clearly"
But neither may l." she objected.
I suspect that you see
so clearly that you fear to wound me.
But to refuse to help me would be to
wound me far more deeply"
We'll, them" she said, a little hoarse-
ly, "since o will have 1t so. I must
tell you that to my mind your be-
a the first claim upon you.
Not until you have fulfilled your en-
gagement with her-the engagement
for which your father has your word
is your life your own to cherish or
throw away; not even then, for, surely. |
she will have some claim upon it,"