The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-10-19

less as l am going to tell you now,
mentioning names of neither people
nor places I gave my word to- keep
the secret, and / will, although I
often wonder ifAif 1 did WE'LL
Agathe was interested at once, and
her father tried to be. The officer
paused, staring thoughtfully at the
gravel walk, before he began, very,
very slowly:
Our regiment-the Ninety-third-
lost heavily in the Battle of the
Marne and along the Aisne, and
among the men sent to- fill the gaps
in our ranks was one whom I had
known at college, a brilliant, at
tractive fellow, the son of an old and
aristocratic house. Il couldn't be-
.lieve my eyes when l first saw him,
for he--you see, he had been a lieu
tenant in the artillery, and-and we
who knew him could hardly believe
it when we heard that--at the very
beginning Of the Battle of the Marine
he Observation-Disclosures deserted.
How he managed to Slip away
and to keep himself hidden / can't
imagine. But he did. Every one in
our division heard the story, so you
can understand my amazement when,
a year later, l recognized him among
the new privates in our regiment.
":He, saw that I knew him-as of
course l did, since we hada studied
and fought and larked together for
years at college! He came straight
to me, and said bluntly:
"sWell, are you going to give me
up? There's a price on my head, you
know
".Not if you behave. What do
you take me for?' l answered gruf-
fly, / am afraid. .
: Il don't know why / spoke, as l
did, unless because he, who had al
ways been gay and pampered, look
ed so worn and sad that somehow it
was all I could do to keep from max
ing a baby of myself. We should
have hated anything like that. ri.
after a. time he told. me, little by
little, how at the prospect of going
under fire he had been SO terrified
that he had lost his wits-hardly
knew what he was doing. After
wards, heart-sick and d~isgraced.
ashamed to hold up his head, he
thought of giving himself up. He
had disgraced his people, and knew
that they would never forgive him.
He could not forgive himself.
He foresaw that as long as he lived
he could never be. anything better
than a fugitive. But he came to the
conclusion that it would be drawer
to do what he could for France than
weekly to take the line of least. re-
sistance. So he offered himself for
the army: He said he was an Amer
lean. He7spoke English abominably,
but the recruiting officers did not
speak it at all, so that made no diff
ference. He was accepted and as
signed to our regiment"
The old Count was listening now.
"a private-to do something for
jFrance?" he echoed.
Eyes, and he, bore himself like a
hero-fought with all his might and
apparently with no thought of dan
ger. He offered himself for every
hazardous bit of work and did it
;coolly. But he wasn't the boy I had
known. He was changed-changedi
He had become quiet and reserved,
and seemed to prefer to, be alone.
With me he was always offish, in
spite of all / could do to show how
deeply 1 respected him. Our chap
lain was his only friend, and I i'm
agine that he, too, knew the whole
story. Jean liked priests; he was
always pious. lit was all very
strange-and very sad!"
The soldier stopped, considering
his story finished, but the Count was
not satisfied. After a thoughtful ST.
lence, he said: 'And now? Where is
he now?" IL.
"He was fatally injured while
helping to rescue some wounded men
who were exposed to the enemy's fire
and died before we could get him to
a hospital. We buried him in the lit
tie military cemetery at Rheims, and
and | hate to think that I can
never tell. / promised him that I
would not. / helped! to lay him to
rest, and I myself marked the little
cross above his grave. / marked it,
Our Boy That is what his mother
had always called him, I knew, be-
cause. l used to see her letters when
we were at college. She died three
years ago, so she never knew" :
He had forgotten Agathe for the
moment, but suddenly the girl hid
her face on her fathers shoulder and
sobbed un~controllably.
Little one, your heart is too ten
der" he said feeling that he. had
been tactless to tell so sad a story,
and a little uncomfortable lest in
doing so he had been untrue to his
promise. c,24r " t.e !
Agathe continued to cry as if her
heart we're breaking, and after a lit
tie hesitation and a word of farewell
to her father, he rather sheepishly
slipped away.
The, Count was pattfng her ten
derby on the cheek, and when the
soIdiaTsswaS gone she raised herHface