The Detroit times., 1913-09-02
CHAPTER VIII.
The Retreat From Moscow.

~Sh8utiuA buoPc.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Retreat From Moscow.
On morning Francois was busy
at the new garden. digging beds for
the plants which the neighbors had
eagerly given them. and which, put
In the ground new. In the autumn
would rise above them In brightness
next spring. He heard the dishes
clatter as his mother inside set the
table for their bare dinner; he smell
ed the soup cooking: he heard his
mother sing as she moved about; he
lifted his head and saw her through
the open window, In q bar of misty
sunshine The world seemed bright
surely when there Is sunshine and
the smell of good earth and the smell
OF good food, when ones mother
sings-then the world il bright. Fran.
co.'s fell to whistling A recole du Roi
the old chanson which his mother
sang.
Into his contentment came, gallop.
ing gloriously, hOof beats OF a horse
The busy spade. several sizes too big
stopped, and Francois leaned his chin
on the handle, the boy out Of drawing
for the tool. He stood like a quaint
little old workman. watching to see
the general pass, the general on that
apotheOsis of hOrse-flesh. Lisette. But
the general stopped, which was q
heavenly surprise to Francois each
time that II happened.
1GnnA
goes the fighting! The colonel, your
father. Is In the field, Is he not? Will
you ask the lieutenant-colonel, your
mother. II may speak to herr"
And the general fiinging titles about
him. sprang to the ground. "All mar
shals to stay inside" he shouted after
the boy. Council of war excluding
field-officers above generals"
Mother, mother, the seigneur
wishes you" Francois whispered
piercingly. but Clare was already on
the little front walk by the new gar
den.
In moment she stood at the gate
In her fresh calico dress, with q white
nchu over her head, and the big man
lowered and growled sentences friend
lily. Francois, obedient In the cot
tage. gazed earnestly from the win.
dow out OF earshot, injurious, admir-
Ing. Long years after he remembered
the picture: the little boy, whose life
was being settled. gazing from the
humble house at the old soldier who
opened a door for that small life into
large possibilities; and the mother
who loved him and saw the first step
for her boy on a ladder that mounted
above her.
Then the general trotted with jingl.
ing stirrup down the village street
and Claire stood with eyes following
for a moment. When she turned she
was smiling yet, but Francois vague.
~ wondered at the movement which
twisted her mouth for q second al
she looked at him. She put her arm
around his neck and kissed him.
which was pleasant but seemed un.
practical.
What did the seigneur say, my
mother" he demanded. struggling
away. Did he say might come to
the chateau tomorrow? May 1? Am
l to know what the general said. my
mother?"
For he considered the seigneur his
property; he was a bit injured at be.
Ing excluded from the council of war.
he. the Marshal.
After his father came home to din.
ner he knew. He was to 90 each
morning to the chateau and do work
IN copying for the general. The gen.
erai was writing book. nothing less
than history OF Napoleon himself
The boys great dreamy eyes glowed
eNhat luck to help In such a glory,
now giad he was that he wrote fast.
est and most accurately of all the
boys In school! And the general was
TO pay him six francs a week-it was
dazzling!
Ihat would make the heard mount
beyond anything he had dared to
nope. That would be a real helm TO
MS mother and to his father-"is n
not. my father"
And the father said yes nroud,v
And neither mother nor father sue.
gested that there was even more tn
this great future.
SO the little lad, in his clean. patch.
ed. peasant clothes. went up to the
cheateu the next morning serious and
and was given a table
and corner in the library and words
TO copy which thrilled his soul. For
the very first was about the battle of
Austerlitx and the sunshine and the
frozen river; II seemed a fate big
enough for any life to sit there In the
quiet book-lined room and write out
such things direct from q man who
had seen them.
1t came to be the spring of the
year, and day after day Francois trod
the path down the village street past
his old home, which he resolutely
looked away from. and across the
arch Of the old Roman bridge. From
there he glanced up always to see the
first broad view of the red castled
roof with the gray towers below,
vague through the trees. There were
nuts by the thousand In the stately
beech woods Of the castled park. but
Francois was too busy man to stor
for nuts in the mornings. Straight on
he marched to the little side door,
and there Jean knillippe Moison, the
son Of Jean Philippe Nelson of Deles-
montes. now q footman at the cha
teau and the wearer of very beauti.