The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1914-01-29

of joy come down; then it flashed to
his mind that this dazzling gift had q
price With whole soul Francois cast
away the brilliant dream and hardly
felt an effort
i thank you a thousand times, my
seigneur," he answered with decision.
Il cannot go with you. / must stay
and work for my father and my moth
err"
There was silence for a minute in
the sunshiny garden; the children had
wandered away; the men did not
speak; one heard only the more Lis
ette whom Francois held, who stamped
her light forefoot and whinnied impa-
tlently. Then the generals grave
voice sounded, more gravely than ever.
Francois Beaupre, you own a fine
lad,' he threw at the dropping peasant
i would like to have him for mine
Since ! cannot, l shall try at least to
be his friend. Monsieur the Marshal
1t must be as you say. But come to
see me at the chateau soon. | shall
have things to talk over with YOU"
On morning Francois was busy at
the new garden, digging beds for the
plants which the neighbors had eager
ly given them, and which, put in the
ground now, in the autumn, would rise
above them in brightness next spring.
Into this contentment came, gallop-
ing gloriously, hoof beats of 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. The general stopped,
which was heavenly surprise to
Francois each time that it happened.
Good morning, marshal. Will YOU
ask your mother if l may speak to
herr"
Mother, mother, the seigneur wish
es you" Francois whispered piercing
ly, but Claire was already on the little
front walk by the new garden.
In a moment she stood at the gate
in her fresh calico dress, with a white
tichu over her head, and the big man
lowered and growled sentences friend
lily. Then the general trotted with
jingling stirrup down the village street
and Claire stood with eyes following
for a moment.
What did the seigneur say, my
mother?" Francois demanded. Did
he say l might come to the chateau
tomorrow? May 1? Am l to know
what the general said, my mother?"
After his father came home to din
ner he knew. He was to go each
morning to the chateau and do work in
copying for the general. The general
was writing book, nothing less than
history of Napoleon himself. The
boys great dreamy eyes glowed.
So the little lad, in his clean,
patched peasant clothes, went up to
the chateau the next morning serious
and important, and was given a table
and corner in the library and words
to copy which thrilled his soul
Often the general talked to him.
"Eh bien, there. the marshall" would
come laundering from the great table
across the room; and the scribe would
drop his pen and scuttle over the dim
wide place.
Yes, Monsieur the Seigneur. | am
here"
Listen then, my soldier. I am un-
certain If this that have written is of
Importance 1t is interesting to me,
because Gaspard Gourgaud was there,
yet | do not wish to ram Gaspard
Gourgaud down a readers throat"
Francois squatted on a stool exactly
in front of the general, with his knees
together and his elbows on them, his
chin in the hollow of his hands. His
eyes were glued on the generals face.
In a deep voice the general read. 1t
was an account of that world-tragedy,
the retreat from Moscow. First came
list of regiments and of officers, with
detailed accounts of early service in
both; 1t was exact, accurate. For five
minutes the general read this; then
his black eyebrows lifted and he
glared over the paper.