In the Day of Adversity

unceasingly, yet through it for those three days a man-a

d sometimes become disarranged, he would look down fondly, his firm, grave features relaxing into a sad smile as the blue eyes of the little crea

t hand, he approached the city of Dijon. Yet, except to sleep at nights, to rest himself, the child, and the horse, he had gone on and on unstopping, or only stopping to shoot once a wolf that, ma

som, resting the first night at Poligny, since the snow was so heavy on the ground that his hors

a great beacon flaring surlily through the snow-laden air-the beacon on the southern watchtower of the city

-it needed not much drawing, since the good horse beneath him could hardly progress beyond the slowest walk, owing to the

etween these, if forced to rest, you are to select the auberges which offer; but at these three towns you are to repose yourself as stated. Above all, fail not to present yourself at the manoir of Roquemaure. The marquise will deliver to your keeping

né,

gné, L

that I am to go. So be it. It may be better for the child than at an inn. And I cannot gossip, or, if I do, only to my ho

re, and l

"None enter Dijon now after four of the evening. Ten thousand devils! why could you no

e by the king's orders, and have to present m

ow mixed the blackness of the oncoming night. "You ride in the king's name and would see the marquis

ts eyes, while he muttered, "Sweet, ere long you shall have a softer couch"; then, as the grille opened and the watchman's ruddy face-all blotched with the

following?" g

on at the Fort de Joux, between Verrières and Pontarlier. Recalled to Paris by ord

arms? It seems precious by

us. It is a c

oldier en route from the frontie

ve! Now ope

t door swung back to admit the rider. And he, dismounting, led his horse through it b

his wife-who had heard the conversation; for as St. G

h the cloak. Then, still femininely, she went on: "Ah! let me see the pauvrette," and without resistance from him she drew back the cloak and gazed

ving birth to her. I am father

he little thing, whose soft blue ey

lling alone. There is little provision fo

a nurse in the fort; but I could not leave it nor bring her with me. In Paris I may find ano

ng being carried on so long and cold a journey. Two or three of her own children were already in their

s." Then turning to the warder, who stood by, he excla

who at that moment had come up-he was one of his own numer

t the foot of the Rampe. Be off!" to

the other, or by the other arm, the house had so deserted a look that it seemed as though he was hardly likely to be able to carry out the orders of the king and his minister to qu

which looked as though it would resist an attack either of battering rams or gunpowder if brought against it. But the blinds, or shutters, were all closed; the

e it. A soldier like myself. Also another, a brother, a priest, Bishop of Lodève-which is my host, I wonder? For choice the

aughed, t

droll things. Only I am young-I do not know." Whereon he

stoop, or the urchin by the side of St. Georges; but certainly by no means large enoug

ing as that of the watchman at the southern gate. Instead, a scowling face, as of a man

horse, and observing the great sword, hat, and cloak of the former with-beneath th

is a good auberge over there to all appearances," nodding his head toward the white-walled inn on the other side of the place, before which hung a bus

accommodation for it. Then come back. We will see later about you." And tu

Georges, regarding the morose-looking man in front of him, said: "My friend, neither your courtesy nor y

nly one I acknowledge-when I parley with you. Show

erhaps"-regarding the servitor through the wicket, as he gave him the paper-"if the master is like the man I had best wait until h

's letter and was calmly reading them. "Fellow!" he exclaimed, "how dare you ma

e other. "Be silen

!" and his eye fell on the rusty-brown clothing

up at the inn. Then come back. But

chi

a nursery? What are we to do wit

he child will share it, and if you have some w

r horse may take a chill. Then come back. And"-as the soldier turned to lead his animal across the snow-covered, deserted place-"leave the child there. The patronne is a mother

no place for a child. Yet, how to leave it? Still, it is best. It has slept often with

holsters and putting them in his belt, entered the hostelry and called for a cup of wine. And, seeing that the woman who served him-evidently the mistress from the manner in

soldier! Why, sir, whence come you with a child? Mon Di

Paris with my child, and I sleep to-night across the way at the Marqu

Then addressing herself to St. Georges, she continued: "You speak well, monsieur;