Middletown transcript., 1912-08-24

his questioning. 1t was the soldier
who had not yet spoken, but who had
been pondering a good deal on the
way up, who next broke the silence.
"How did it end, Monsieur Mounte-
bank?-the scene with the devil,
mean"
The man who had begun to breathe
hard, as one not accustomed to climb
ing, or wearied by a long pilgrimage
to the Mount, at the question ven
tured to stop and rest, with hand on
the granite balustrade of the little
platform they had just reached. 'In
the death Of the peasant, and comic
chorus Of frogs" he answered.
"a comic chorus!" said the soldier.
THAT must be very amusing"
at is" the mountebank said, at the
same time studying, from where he
stood, different parts of the Mount
with cautious. sidelong looks; ''but my
poor frogs!-all torn! trampled!"
well, WE'LL" said the other not un-
kindly. "You can mend them when
you get out"
When!' If only knew when that
would be! What if I should have to
stay here like some Of the others?-
pour etre oublie!-to be forgotten?"
"If you don't get on faster" said
the soldier who had first spoken, you
won't be buried alive for some time
to come, at least!"
"Pardon!" muttered the mounte-
| 4e ~
"You look strong enough to climb a
dozen hills, and if you're holding back
for chance to escape"
mo, mol" protested the man. 81 had
no thought-do I not know that if
tried, your sword"
quite right I'd"
There, there!" said the other sol
der, a big, good-natured appearing fel-
low. Hes harmless enough, and" as
once more they moved on, that tune
of yours, Monsieur Mountebank," alb
ruptly; "it runs in my head. Let me
see-how does it go? The second
verse, mean"
''Beat! beat!
Mid marsh-muck and mire,
For If any note
Escapes a frogs throat,
Beware my lords ire!"
Eyes; that's the one. Not bad!"
humming-
For If any note
Escapes frogs throat
Beawre my lords ire!'
"Are the verses your own?"
"Oh, no! I'm only poor player"
said the mountebank humbly. But
an honest one," he added after a
pause, "and this thieves inn, Mon
sieur?" returning to the subject Of his
possible fate, this auberge des vO-
leurs-that sounds like bad place
for an honest lodging"
at was once under the old monks, J
who were very merry fellows; but |
since the Governor had it restored, it /
has become a sober and quiet place.
It is true there are iron bars instead |
Of blinds, and you can't come and go,
as they used to, but"
'Ts that it-up there?" And the
mountebank pointed toward ledge Of
rock, with strong flanking buttresses,
outjutting beneath a mysterious-look-
ing wall and poised over a sparsely-
wooded bit of the lower Mount. "The
gray stone building you can just see
above the ramparts, and that opening
in the cliff to the right, with some
thing running down-that looks like
planking-"
"Oh, that is for the wheel"
"The wheel?"
"The great wheel of the MountI It
was built in the time of the monks,
and was used for"
Hold your tongue!" said the other
soldier, and the trio entered the great
gate, which had opened at their ap-
proach, and now closed quickly be-
hind them.
For the first time in that isolated
domain of the dreaded Governor, the
mountebank appeared momentarily to
forget his fears and, gazed with inter-
est around him. On every side new
and varying details unfolded to the
eye; structures that from below were
etched against the sky in filmy lines,
here resolved themselves into vast,
solid, but harmonious masses.
Those ribbons Of color that had
seemed to fall from the wooing sky, to
adorn these heights, proved, indeed,
fallacious; more sombeF effects, the
black touches of age, confronted the
eye everywhere, save on one favored
front-that of a newer period, an
architectural addition whose intricate
carvings and beautiful roses of stone
invited and caught the warmer rays;
whose little balcony held real buds
and flowers, bright spots Of pink dang
ling from, or nesting at, the windows
edge.
"Yonder looks like some grand
lady's bower" as he followed his cap
tors past this more attractive edifice,
the mountebank ventured to observe.
Now, perhaps, lives there"
"Hark you, my friend" one of the
soldiers bruskly interrupted; "a piece
Of advice. His Excellency likes not
babblers. neither does he countenance .
gossip; and if you'd fare well, keep
your tongue to yourself!"
"Ill-I'll try to remember" said the ;
mountebank docilely, but as he spoke, I
looked back toward the balcony; at
the cleaning reflection full on its win I
dows; then turn in the way cut off I
the pleasing prospect, and only the I
grim foundations of the lofty, heavier
structure on one hand and the mas :
sive masonry ramparts on the other
greeted the eye.