Year: 1869

In the year 1S3- there lived a, Bor-
deaux the last-or one Of the last-or q
long line ofsscoundrels who had made
that part of. France infamous ito our
ideas by succession Of cold blooded
murders, committed under the sanction
Of what people were pleased TO call the
Code of Honor. This was q certain
Compile de V, man of great phys
ical strength, imperturbable songfroid,
and relentless cruelty. Not bad sort
Of companion, as some said, when the
fit-the duelling ft-was not on him
but this came on once in about every six
months, and then he must have blood, it
mattered little whose. He had killed
and MANNED boys OF sixteen, fathers Of
families, military officers, journalists,
advocates, peaceful country gentlemen
The cause OF quarrel was Of no import
ance if one did not present itself read
lily, he made one; always contriving
that, according to the code aforesaid, he
should be the insulted party. thus hay-
ing the choice Of weapons and he was
deadly with the small sword. It is dif
iicult for us 10 realize q state of society
in which such wild beast could be per
mitted to go at large; but we know it to
be historically true that euch creatures
were endured in Franco just as we are
assured that there were at one time
wolves in Y Yorkshire only the less moi
some ermin had harder time of it as
civilization progr essed than was dealt
out to the human brute.


The latest exploit of the Comte de
V, previous to tue story am about
to tell, was to goad poor young stu
dent into a challenge; and when it was
represented to him that the boy had ney-
er held sword in his life, so that it
would be fairer to use pistols, he repli-
ed, that fools some metimes made mistakes
with pistols, and the next ID corning ran
him through the lungs. The evil fit was
on him but the blood thus shed quiet.
ed him for another half year, and rather
more, for public opinion was unfavor
able, and the air of Bordeaux became
too warm for him.


But the scandal blew over after a
time, and he came back to his old haunts.
one of which was a cafe by the river
side, where many used to spend their
Sunday. Into the little garden of this
establishment our wolf staggered one
fine summer afternoon, with a heavy
dark look and nervous twitching of the
hands which those who were acquainted
with him knew well meant mischief.
The evil fit was on him consequently
he found himself the centre Of a circle
which expanded rs he went on. This
did not displease him. He liked to be
feared. He knew he could make
quarrel when he chose, so he looked
around for victim.


AT table almost in the middle of the
garden sat man of about thirty Years
of age, OF middle height, and an expires.
sion of countenance which at first struck
one as mild and good humored. He was
engaged reading 3 journal which seem.
ed 10 interest him, and eating strawber
ries, an occupation which does not call
forth any latent strength of character.
Above all, he was profoundly uncon.
scious OF the presence of M. lie Compte
de ", and continued eating his
strawberries and reading his paper as
though no wolf were in that pleasant
fold. --Y.sx. =


As the Count approached this table,
it became sufficiently well known whom
he was about to honor with his inso-
lence; and the circle narrowed again to
see the play. It is not bad sport, with
some OF us, to see fellow creature bait.
ed-especially when we are out of dan
ger ourselves.


The strawberry eaters costume was
not such as was ordinarily worn in
France at that time, and he had . curl.
GUS hat, which-the weather being warm
he had placed on the table by his side.
'He is q foreigner whispered some il.
the dress-circle. Perhaps he does no.
know Monsieur le Comse'