Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-03-26
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR MARCH 1911
THE COUNTS HAND
Continued from page 4

dropping dead from the branches of the
trees, where SO many brave sons OF mothers
and husbands of widows lay sleeping in their
uniforms, with their ears dulled eternally to
the bugle's call.
7 HAD been asleep about an hour when 1
awoke with the utmost abruptness.
Something had happened, or was on the edge
of it. Involuntarily l leaped from bed,
startled by an instinct for which cannot ac-
count. At the same instant heard the
hussar outside my door cry out, almost in a
scream, Wer da!' Then came the stunning
report of his gun, which to my heavy ears at
that dead hour sounded like the discharge
of mortar. flew to the door.
"A terrible sight met my eyes. The hussar
had dropped his gun and was bending over
the body of Ziminsky, whom he had shot
through the breast. A ray of moonlight
from high window fell full upon my poor
friend, who was coughing in the arms of the
sentry.
al fear have done for him. muttered
the German, his eyeballs rolling wildly. |
saw a white figure. and it did not answer at
once to the challenge And then my orders
were to shoot at sight. Achl God forgive
mel
"Men came hurrying up; but as kneeled
by the fallen Count perceived that his mo-
ments were numbered. He recognized me
and smiled; and that smile, full of sweet
ness, which was like ray of golden sunset
that closes stormy day, made me burst
into tears. 1 stopped down to catch the
words his paling lips we're whispering.
al was coming to keep you company he
breathed. The sentry is not to blame.
Adieu, my friend! am glad-glad- She
is not in the unfathomed sky; no seraph's
voice enchants her ear. Who nearer than
my beloveds near? Her arms about me
lie
aAnd with those words upon his lips,
which / shall always think referred to one he
loved who had died, Ziminsky ceased to
breathe.
"They carried away his body, and went
back into my room, where l flung couple
of fir logs upon the dying embers. The
resinous wood soon burst into flame, ema-
mating pungent odor. l paced up and
down the polished boards, my mind full of
the tragedy that had descended on the
chateau. Count de Compegnade, at any
rate, was not responsible for this last affair.
"The last? Possibly not, since Won Arm
helm remains l murmured.
THE words had barely passed my lips
when the door opened and the COM
mandant entered. He had dressed himself,
or perhaps had not undressed at all. He
closed the door and looked for key to turn;
but there was none. Growing an oath, he
placed the back of chair under the door
handle so that it could not be opened from
outside.
al want to know all about this shooting
of Ziminsky,' he demanded huskily. L am
told it was an accident. Was it,
Undoubtedly
allow did it happen?'
II informed him to the best of my ability.
He seemed relieved and, kicking an armchair
toward the fire, dropped into it. The shock
had sobered him; but his nerves had gone
to pieces. 1t was apparent that he was glad
to have company, and took advantage of
the fact to venture:
@'If you will allow me, Commandant,
should much like to make suggestion con-
corning this mysterious sequence of the
deaths of your officers
"Fear had tanned him, though his reply,
What the devil do you know about it? was
insolent enough.
@'Ziminsky was good enough to let me
into the secret / answered, seating myself
on one side of the bed. Do not be annoyed,
l beg l have watched the affair extremely
closely, and believe 1 can throw light
upon it.
"The purple flush of passion that dyed his