The Mena weekly star., 1910-03-03
The Man of Many
 Deaths
Thus spoke the old captain.
By HENRI DE FORGE

| swear it-on the twenty-eighth of Feb ruary, 1871. of Saturday, the last day of the siege of Paris. stood for the fourth and last time, face to face ! with Prussian officer whom I had | thrice seen die, under entirely differ, ent conditions"
 We made no effort to conceal our doubt of this story
 Here you have the story We were in camp at Fort Mont Valerien; Gen. Noel was in command. and no day passed without a skirmish with the enemy A few days before the encoun. ter at Bourget, while accommodating toward Longboyau, we heard in the woods the tramping of horse, and the rhythmic sound of cavalry on the march. At sign to my men, we dropped fiat in the shrubbery on the Bueil road and waited.
 Presently, the enemy emerged from the wood, moving quietly two abreast
 "At the side rode an officer. a tall, wellgrown fellow with a blonde mus tache, and handsome, proud face was considered a good shot in the regiment, and my men whispered:
 Now is your chance, sergeant!'
 T closed my eyes involuntarily and fired. When I dared to look, I saw men aud horses rising and falling in confusion, and many soldiers crashing through the woods at a gallop. The officer lay on the ground at full length. How immensely tall a dead man looksl l gazed at him long and attentively, not without shudder, and I felt that never in all my life could I forget that face.
 A few days later I was on furlough in Paris, and 1 used the opportunity to ask after one of my friends, Lieut.. Legras, who had been wounded at Bondy, and who was in the hospital at Val-de Grace. During our chat no- ticed at cot near us the vague whis- pering and meaning glances which tell of expected death The doctor came, bent for moment over the occupant of the cot, and signed to the two Sis ters of Charity in attendance, who dropped on their knees in prayer.
 "Legras whispered in my ear: "A Prussian officer who is going to hand over his sword he has been two days dying I looked toward the bed; at the same instant the sufferer raised himself partly up in a struggle for breath, and as he fell back dead. l began to tremble like leaf. and the ashen pallor of my face startled Le. gras.
 Tt was the corn-blond German hero whom I had shot down on the Buell. road, who lay dead in the hospital cot.
 "The answer to my inquiry was to the effect that the dead man was a Prussian captain who had been picked up gravely wounded on the field near Bondy, two days previously-therefore it could not be the same officer who a week before had fallen, pierced by my bullet.
 Day and night my excited brain sought in vain an explanation of this mystery, till the battle of Montretout turned my thoughts into a new chan. nel.
 We wore pushing toward the Cha. teau of Buzanval when I picked out with my field-glass a group of Prus- sian staff-officers among which two figures stood out boldly, probably the leaders of the sortie. Suddenly on our left flank was revealed three squad rons of the enemy dashing pele-iele upon us in a mad gallop. At the head of the enemy's attack was the undy- ing dead officer of Longboyau and Val-de-Grace. Straight as a dart he pore down upon me, swinging aloft his Bleaming saber l fired upon him, and the next moment found myself rolling under my assaiant's riderless horse As soon as l could regain my feet, sprang upon the body of the fallen Prussian which lay near me, and q confess freely what was perhaps an act of fiendish reyengel. plunged my bayonet deeply three times in the life. less breast of the man who had be- come hideous nightmare.
 He was surely dead now. was he not?
 Then came the days for the sign. ing of our truce.
 T was on the outworks when the parliamentary signal was blown Prussian officer approached me. fol- lowed by a corporal. As the tall state ly figure drew nearer, it seemed as If every drop of blood in my body was turning to ice The blue gleam of the eye. the gold-blond color of the long mustache, the whole expression of the face, at once forceful and dreamy He it was again, my haunting vision, my three-times fallen Germanic hero --the same whom only eight days be- fore. my bayonet had pierced through and through.
 "Motionless, silent, I watched him, overwhelmed with the conviction that the Prussians could not die, as we died--but that they rose from the dead after each conflict. to fight ps anew.
 Noticing my gaze fixed upon him, the Prussian said in a gentle voice:
 It is a mercy, sir, that this cruel conflict has come to an end. Your re. distance was admirable, and very fatal to our side. As an individual I can speak feelingly; of four brothers of my family who fought before Paris. am the only one to survive"
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