SHORT STORY.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2336, 18 June 1906, Page 6

SHORT STORY.

' P’TITE LISETTE. Her clumsy sabots clicked noisily as sho tripped down the cobbled street to carry Madamo Durefc her newly finished dress. She wondered how it was that ladies could think of such things whoa the Prussian guns were booming beyond the river, and the rifles cracking night and day at the barri-.;ad(.-s. She took no heed of the soldiers who lounged outside every cabaret—twirling their hig moustaches, rattling their sabres, and looking at her little figure admiringly as shehurried past—but made her way towards the large white house, for madamo grew very angry if her orders were not executed promptly. Lisette was shown into madame’s dress-ing-room, and sho sat down patiently while the lady finished writing a letter. Sho stared at the flowered carpet, and thought of Pierre Vermot. She remembered the night when he had stagecred into her father’s cottage with a bullet in Lis shoulder and a laugh on Lis lips. She had loved him from that moment, and Pierre had loved her in return. Pierre was a spy, and his pockets w ere almost always filled with gold. Sometimes ho drank more than was good for him, and thou ho would gamble away his mcnoj-, and fight, too, if he could find anyone rash enough to fight with him. But Pierre's stool-groy eyes always softened when ha looked at Lisette, and he was so big and strong and fearless that Lis lover was always quick at finding excuses for him. She had not beard of him for weeks, and her little heart almost stopped beating as eho called to mind the grim stories people told of how the Prussians treated epics. ‘So you have brought my dress,’ said uiadame, lighting the spirit-lamp to seal her letters.

Lisetto started from her reverie, and was beginning to open the parcel, when madame thrust back tho table and rose to her feet. ‘ You are Pierre Vermot’s sweetheart, Lisetto ?’ she asked kindly. The girl’s heart leapt, and she blushed prettily as she gazed at her own trim ankles peeping out below the short serge skirt. ‘ Yes, madame.’ Madame was old and thin, and usually very acid. Bat the hard lines about her mouth relaxed somewhat, and tho glance she cast at tho girl from under her shaggy grey eyebrows was a pitying one. Madame’s husband was fighting gallantly for bis country, risking Ids life every hour, and her only son had fallen for Franca as ho led bis horse up to the very mouths of tho Prussian cannon. She knew what sorrow was, but it was her habit to conceal her feelings, * I Lave just received a letter from my husband,’ madame said. ‘Pierre Vermot was captured by the Prussians four days ago. Ho might escape, Lisetto, as he has escaped before. But ’

4 What, madame ?’ Lisette had dropped the parcel; her checks were white as chalk, and she clutched at the table for support. ' Is he wounded ?’

Madame nodded, and, waiting to hear no more, the girl staggered blindly down the broad staircase and out iuto the street. The clouds wore hanging low, and tho pavement was dappled with snowflakes. Tho soldiers, wrapped in their greatcoats, were hurrying towards tho barricades, and on the biting wind came the distant rattle of guns and the shrill blast of bugles. 4 Poor Lisetto !’ said madame, as she rang tho bell for her maid, and prepared to try on the new dress.

Liselto saw no one as she sped along, but many people saw the little seamstress, and shook their heads compassionately, for tuft news of Pierre Vermel's capture had spread far and wide. Sbo hardly knew where sho was going ; her brain was in a whirl, aud all that she could remember was that Pierre was wounded aud in tho hands of tho Prussians. Then a sudden clattering of hoofs from the direction of the barricade caused her to raise her head, and she gave a quick cry and sprang forward. » 4 Jean ! Jean !’

The man reined in his horse, and ’when he caught sight of her would have ridden on, but she seizsd the bridle and held it fast.

* Where is Pierre?’ she panted. 'Tellme, Jean ; you were his comrade.’ The man tugged at his beard uneasily, and his eyes blinked in a manner that was far from soldier-like.

‘ I did my best for you, P’tito Lisette,’ he said, examining the horse’s mane attentively. ‘ Wo got him out of the Prussians’ clutches yesterday. Mon Dieu, how we rode ! They were thick as bees all round us. Then we reached the river, and found it was each man for himself, for the knaves were everywhere.’

‘So you left him—a wounded man !’ she cried, with flashing eyes. ‘ What could wo do P It was by his own wish that we abandoned him. lie is hidden in the old mill, and the Prussian lines are so close that a mouse couldn’t squeezi in between them. I will risk it to-morrow, ma chore. Bah! Wipe your eyes and all will be well. Pierre lias only a broken arm, and jou know what Pierre can do.’ ‘ To-morrow !’

She released the bridle, and turned her lack upon him contemptuously. Jeau drew hie sleeve across his eyes and rode on, for his wife would bo waiting for him, and her claim was of more importance than Lisetle’s. The wind blow stronger now, laden with snow, and the sound of firing rolled up dull and theatening. Lisette hastened home, and tat with her hands clasped over her knees, gazing vacantly info the tiny charcoal fire. So Pierre was hiding in the old mill, wounded, hungry, and without either light or fire !

She know the old mill well, but Jean had said that no one could pass the Prussian lines unobserved. Poor Lisette ?

The grey shadows were beginning to creep in upon her before she rose from her seat, and her heart was heating wildly and her hands clenched tight. She packed a basket with provisions and a bottle of wine, and began to pace the room, longing for the darkness.

It came at last—a night black as ink, and full of whirling snow. The noise of guns was almost siieuccd, save for some fitful booxnints beyond the river, and a few answering rattles from the French outposts. She stole out and passed unnoticed through the northern outskirts ot the town, for the Prussians hud net yet crossed the stream, and in that direction the town was almost unguarded. Then she turned her back to the wind, and ran towards the fr >zen river, scaling the blutf. She knew then that her quest was hopelets. Far to the right and left the outposts stretched on either bauk, and here and there red tongues of flame leapt out of the gloom, showing that both parties were awake and watchful. From where she stood she could look down upon tho little town, and soo the dark figures Hitting before tho flaring watchfires at tho barricades. Itlveu had tho river not been clad in its dazzling mantle of snow, none could hare crossed it unseen. U 3 r heart sank.

Then the vision of Pierre lying racked with pain and hunger in the old mill came upon her, and she hurried on through the enow, till tho sound of voices made her halt precipitately and strain her ears to listen. I'hero was a picket of French not thirty yards behind her, and she could even catch tho (■cent of tobacco the men were smoking. There was no retreat now, and film crept forward on hands and knots, and slipped over the shelving banks. The ice creaked ominously under her weight, and a bullet shrieked over her head, fired haphazard at tho invisible foe. The mill stood back from the river, fully two miles up, and the outposts extended more than half that distance.

Lisette shivered, if for a moment she slipped out of tho shadow she would bo seen by both friends an,d foes, and she crouched down find prayed, not lor herself, but for Piene. Ihe

guns spat and .-p'utiered viciously, and the snoft eddied around her. She was growing strangely drowsy, and her hands and feot were numbed with the cold.

Once more she remembered her lover, end was tottering to her feet, when a strong arm gripped her from behind, and a hoarse voice called upon her to yield. * Pierre 1’ she gasped, ‘ Pierre !’ ‘ Mon Oieu ! Lisetto !’

She clung to him, and for the first time her tears began to flow. But it was no time for dallying then. A random bullet struck the frozen bank, dashing the sand into their faces, and Pierre shrugged his burly shoulders and whistled softly. 1 Come, Lisette,’ ho whispered, ‘ you are so email that I think I can carry you with one arm. Wo must run for it.’ Ho picked her up as if she had been a baby, and swung her across his uninjured shoulder. The Prussians saw him the. moment he sprang into the light, and their bullets rattled round him like hail. The bank was too steep for him to climb, hampered with his burden—for Lisette was a dead weight now—and all he could do was to hug the shadow and run for tho barricade. 1 Help!’ ho shou'ed. ‘Help! Vive la France!’ His comrades heard him, and every man seized his gun, answering flush and flash. Once he staggered when the fires were fully in view, but became on again like a racehorse ; and a mighty cheer went up as Pierre Vermot, tattered, dishevelled, and blood-stained, scrambled over the barricade and stood in tho light, with P’tite Lisette in his arms. — E. J. Mukeay.