In the Day of Adversity

e bridge over the Seine and through the deserted street that led up to the small guard-house, where, B

ignay-le-Duc, and St. Georges had decided that, as Chatillon was the most important town on this side of T

he brigand who desired to steal my child. Then, see, Boussac, we were followed-or preceded-from Dijon by that man who warned him we were co

your life, the life of the pauvrette, aimed

my existence was hateful." Then, since their tired horses were now walking side by side across a wide plain, at t

me; hark to a secret; though first you must assure me you will never divulge

drawing off first the great riding gantlet he wore, and said, "There's

and in his own. "Listen. I belie

ou bewilder me. Your name is St. Georges-if it is as you say, it should be De la Bresse. I knew him-your f

my mother was-well, no matter. But be sure of this: if I am what I thin

hat you believe yourself

ints to the presumption that I am what I believe myself to be. The cavalry soldier, St. Georges, and his

know. Does not a man

d it, since none were admitted who had not some claim to good birth-above all, he wanted a friend, a confidant. And as, in those days, there was scarcely any gulf between the officers of the inferior grades and the soldiers themselves, Boussac was well fitted to be that friend and confidant. Also he knew, he felt now, since the attack of the evening, how insecure hi

ld him h

of refugees from England. There she met my father, 'Captain St. Georges.' But at that time De Vannes was out of favour with the court; he was a

. Surely there must be proofs!

m Sardinia to many parts of Europe. It was because of her memory that I spared that fellow we hav

d Boussac, "you gathe

Captain St. Georges by the pastor. Those were happy days, for he was always kind and good to me, would walk out with me hand in hand, would spend the day with me in the Forest of Fontainebleau, hard by, and would talk about my future. Yet he was sad, too; his eyes would fill with tears sometimes as he looked at me or stroked my hair, and always he asked me if I would be a soldier as he was. And always in reply I answered, 'Yes,' which seemed to please him. So I grew up, treated with more and more respect mingled with affection from the pastor as time went on; and, also, I was now taught military exercises and dril

art of France. And not only of villages and towns burnt and destroyed, but of fathers and breadwinners bur

ollowed so cruel and bloodthirsty a man as Turenne. But the pastor stopped me, rose up in his chair in ang

ke was your father, monsieur. The worthy pastor may have

r the Mousquetaires. Therefore, I will tell you of its strange character and wording. It was that the king, at the request of the Duc de Vannes, had been graciously pleased to appoint me to the position of porte-drapeau in the Nivernois under De Mailly-Sebret-a brave man, now

me friend who obtains him his presentation to a regiment-even I had

herein a miniature of my mother-though I should not have known it was she had he not informed me of it-and also instructions that I should myself seek out the Duc de Vannes at the first opportunity and boldly ask him who my father was. 'For,' he wrote, 'he can tell you if he will, and he ought in justice to tell you. I would do so only the most solemn promise binds

tch towers of Chatillon they could hear the guard being changed. And also, as they

e the bolts were heard creaking harshly in their sockets as the gate was being open

nnes once, and I have heard loved him. Yet they never married-perhaps because they were of different faith-and she instead married De Roquemaure, De Vannes's cousin and heir. He left a son by his first wife, who is now t

Boussac, "yes. You s

See, the gate is o

owed by the mousquetaire, while the officer of the night, after b

he exclaimed, as he saw that the other had a strange b

ere now staring at them in the rays of the great lantern that swung over the gateway. "My child, whose life would have been taken t

d with every sense awake to its utmost-there rose a murmur of indignation that was not at all extinguished by Boussac's descripti

ack two, and one burdened with a little child unde

d outside the fight-the man who, the comrades knew, had brought the news from Dijon that they were on the road. And then from all wh

"you have come an hour too late." "'Twas but at midnight," exclaimed a third, "that he rode through-ten minutes of midnight. And, by g

is he gone?" as

ask him, since both this and the other gates were open

hollow enough through the rusty iron pot on his head. 'I have been attacked,' he said;' nigh murdered by some ruffians, and am wounded. I must get me home.' 'And where is your home?' I asked. 'Beyond Bar,' he replied; 'for Heaven's sake, do not stop me!' Whereon," continued the youn

ce to Boussac. "The north road! You hear? And t