The Meridian times. (Meridian, Idaho) 1909-1938, 1914-07-10

Prince or colonel and blood would
have flowed
Yet the steadfast mind kept its
hope; he glanced every moment toward
the ramparts The third must appear
there shortly; it could not be many
minutes They would turn the tide.
One glimpse of that solid swinging
regiment and the day would be saved
and salvation was certain. The
third was coming, would be here any
second--Francois' faithfulness could
be trusted.
Slowly, with his officers crowding
about him, he was driven toward the
barracks wall, and, in q flash, from
somewhere, man was before him.
thrusting bit of paper at him. With
a swift movement he had 1t opened
and read:
Destiny throws arsenal into our
hands. Have taken third artillery to
hold it. wait to bring the news-a
jewel for your crown. Vive Temper
eur! Reaunra
Few men ever heard Louis Napo-
leon sob, yet the officers stood about
him at that moment caught a sound
that wrung them. 1t meant the end,
and they knew 1t. Passionately he
crushed the paper and threw it into
the seething mass.
Fool! He has thrown away the en-
pre-" he Kissed through set teeth.
IF l could run him through"
Then. quickly, he was himself again.
Serenely while the maddened soldiers
pressed on him, he turned and spoke
quiet word to his friends, and then,
serenely, too, with gaze that was
half contemptuous, half friendly, he
let himself be made prisoner.
Yet the fight was not all over even
now. On the ramparts, where the
Prince and his column should have
been, had gathered from the Faubourg
Pierre a formidable crowd, who ad-
vanced angrily to his rescue, and pelt-
ed the line regiment with stones, and
cried again and again, "Vive Temper
curl" Colonel Talandier had to reck-
on with many-sided trouble. But the
heart Of 1t was in his hands, and slow
ly order and the old rule were coming
back
The tumult of the struggle had
quieted, the volatile forty-sixth regi-
ment, returned to its allegiance, stood
formed in ranks, in appearance as firm
for the king as the everlasting hills,
and, at the end of the court was a
sad and silent, yet stately group of
men, the Prince who had almost been
Emperor and those who had watched
slipping with his hope, their hopes Of
grandeur.
Suddenly horses hoofs rang down
the lane from the Faubourg; a rider
clattered at gallop into the yard and
across the front of the soldiers, and
every one in the agitated company
saw that the man Keeling in his sad
die was wounded. With blind gaze he
stared about as he refined in, and
then he caught sight of the sorry
group, the Prince and his officers. To
Francois Beaupre, clutching to this
world by one thread Of duty, this was
the victorious Emperor and his tri-
umphant staff. With a choking shout
he threw himself from the horse and
fell, too far gone to stand, at the
Princes feet
Sire, l bring you the arsenal" he
stammered painfully, loudly. In the
silence Of the courtyard one heard
every word Two wishes-good fair
les" he gasped. And then, his mouth
twisting to smile, "the thirds no
matter"
Louis Bonaparte looked down at the
man whose dying face stared up at
him in rapture of loyalty; whose life
had been consecrated to him; whose
death was for him; who had lost him
an empire. For second a struggle
shook him, and then the large kind
ness through which he came nearest
to greatness, overlooked. In the ca.
reer to come was no finer moment, no
higher inspiration for Prince Louis