Our Novelettes. AN ARTIST'S SACRIFICE.

Western Star, Issue 946, 9 May 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Novelettes. AN ARTIST'S SACRIFICE.

Chapteb V., and Last.— Concluded.

Fortunately when Jean returned home from the office that evening, Madame was deep in the intricacies of a new dress, and had no leisure to bestow a glance upon the anxious face of her husband. In spite of himself, Jean felt not only perplexed but uneasy, not only uncertain as" to the manner in which he was to avail himself of the chmce which offered, but full of restless, uncontrollable forboding as to the ultimate result.

With this feeling upon him, he went into the children's bed-room and kissed them as they lay sleeping;; he next went into his studio and looked silently at his picture for a minute, and then drew the baize across it tenderly ; and when he returned to the room where his wife sat, and looked down at the little hands that were so busy, and listened to her voice, which broke out into singing every now and then, he felt the old tenderness come back. He would have gften anything if his wife had flung the dress aside and Btood up on tiptoe to kiss him, as she had been in the habit of doing once. Once, alas! But that was such a weary time ago; and certainly no such thought seemed to enter Madame's head now, for she worked-"and "hummed, and patted and smoothed the silk with her white hands, seemingly quite oblivious of Jean, who stood looking down at her m his quiet way. "Marie," he said, presently, "my head aches; I think I will take a short walk and see if I can get rid of the pain." "Very well, Jean," she replied, carelessly. " I shall not be hng." " Very well. lam very busy, so you Heed not hurry." Jean put on his hat, and still stood looking down at his wite.

" Why, Marie," he said, " the dress must be bewitched; you grow young and handsome even in making it." " Thank you, Jean 5 of course then, before I bought the dress, I was old and ugly." " Nonsense; you know I did not mean that. But you look quits yourself.; It's a treat to see you laugh and hear you sing. Madame frowned, and ceased singing. " Well, I suppose I may as well go for my walk, Marie." " Yes, I suppose so, if you wish to go." " Good-bye, Marie," and he stooped and kissed her.

" There, Jean," said the matron, turning her head—" don't be absurd and hypocritical; and, as you are going out, pray don't drink any more -wine." Poor Jean! His wife had grown so matter-of-fact that she thought his affectionate lnannei arose from the contents of a wine-bottle. Jean went out without any further hesitation, and walked quickly until he came to the public offices. Once there he produced the ticket which all the clerks carried, aud was allowed to pass the sentinel at the gate. Up the great dark staircase, with a stealthy stop and strange fluttering at the heart, went Jean, till he came to the door of the office in which he had a seat, and iu which the precious papers were deposited. Strangely nervous, he paused at the stair-head, looked down into the darkness, and listened to hear if any one was about; then he went to the door, but, although he held the handle in his hand, he could not at first find courage enough to turn it. What if something unusual had happened and some of the officials should be there ? Suppose that when he opened the door there shonld be lights, and that inquiring eyes should be turned upon the intruder. Suppose some one else was there on tbo same errand as himself!

" Oh, diable,'' he whispered to himself, " this won't do at all! I'm trembling like a leaf, and I'm afraid to open the door." With a desperate resolution he turned the handle, pushed open the door a little way, peered into the dark deserted office, and, gradually dragging himself in, closed the door, behind him.

For a minute or two Jean stood in the silent darkness and listened, and then, reminding himself how precious every instant was, he took out a dark lantern with which he had provided himself, and went straight across to the desk where the papers of which he was in search were deposited. Trembling with excitement and dread, he turned over the pile of papers upon the desk, but could not find those which he wanted; further and further he looked till he came to the very last set, which were those he sought. Yes, he held them in his hand at last, and was about to burn them, when he bethought himself that the blaze might attract attention outside, and he decided that he must find other means of accomplishing his purpose. The papers must be destroyed there and not taken away, otherwise jany accident might happen—he might lose them, or he might be taken or be arrested } so he decided that they must be destroyed at once and there, but the means were not so apparent. Difficulty often suggests the usefulness of even the humblest things, and at this moment Jean caught sight of a bowl of dirty water, in which official hands had been washed, and lo! the means of destruction were found. He plunged the papers into the water and held them there, tearing them apart and into shreds, till the terrible evidence had become a mass of dirty pulp, which Jean squeezed into a hard ball 1 he then began to think what he should do with it, when, plainly, unmistakably, as ,he paused, he heard a step on the stairs, then another, and then a voice, two voices, coming towards that room. Again Jean's good genius served him, for, as he extinguished his lantern, he thought of a huge chest which stood in the office, and was half filled with old books and papers, but in which there was plenty of room left for him. He blew out the light, extinguishing it with his fingers, placed his lump of puip, more precious than a lump of gald, in iiis pocket, and glided like a ghost towards the chest.

As k the lid of the chest softly descended the office door opened, admitting two persons, who were no other than Bobespierre and Fouquier-Tinville. "All quiet, you see," said FouquierTinville.

"Yes," answered Robespierre; "it was the moonlight on the windows, no doubt, but I certainly thought I Baw a light. I am strangely nervous of late." " IN o wonder," said his companion, "at the rate things have been going these few days. The state of affairs is not by any means promising to Citizen Robespierre, unless he looks out very sharp." " What am I to do ? The Convention is in revolt, and to-day I was almost turust from the tribune, my voice being drowned in "i'cs, I know," said Fouquier-Tinville, calmly. There is only one thing to be done; you must behead the Convantion." " Bah! we have had enough beheading—more than enough." *' That's as it may be. But, if you don't behead the Convention, they'll behead you," and tfoguier-Tinville laughed. " You seem to love blood for itself," said Robespieere, "I suppose you Would per.

secute me with the same zest to-morrow as that which you persecuted Danton a brief while ago." Fouquier-Tinville shrugged his shoulders, but made no answer.

Meanwhile, cooped up in the chest, amid dust and musty old books and papers, Jean would have given anything to sneeze, if he had dared; what was worse, he began to grow terribly afraid that he should be obliged to sneeze, in defiance of consequences—and a very Ipretty interruption that would prove to the conversation at present being held outside.

" If this agitation does not cease," Robespisre went on, " I am certainly afraid that it will be necessary to make examples of some of those who have broughl it about." " Certainly," said Fouquier-Tinville ; " behead them. There's nothing like it—it's a certoin cure for disobedience."

" There is one Dufrane, a doctor. Do you know him ?"

"Oh, yes; he is very clever, and very dangerous, He has made more rebels with his hot tongue within this last week than the guillotine will be able to embrace in a month."

" What is his spite against us —against me? For he is heart and soul in the movement, and has spoken, as I hear, most bitterly of myself. Why ? I don't seek the hatred of men."

" Ah, I don't mind it myself! But, as re* gards Doctor Dufrane, I believe the truth is, that we took one of his patients from him."

" Patients ?"

" Well, he was in love with one of them, and we thwarted him by beheading her. She was a rank Royalist, and bo is he by now, I dare say, Hallo! whose this coming in such a hurry ? Henriot, by all that's diabolical!" "Don't waste words or time," said Henriot, shortly; "bnt if you have a care left for your own carcases, and want to see tomorrow, you had better get to the Hotel de Ville at once; at present we are pretty strong there, and it's about the only place in this furious city where we are pretty strong." "Are there any people about?" asked Robespierre. " Well, yes—a few thousands, slightly mad, and howling for me and you." "For me," cried Robespierre. "What would they have ? Have I not always done that whic'.i I thought best ? Don't you know that I have done everything for the best? he demanded, turning to FouquierTinville.

" Oh, doubtless, mm ami," replied the latter, with his evil smile ; " but the world is so ungrateful, you see. Why, here's our poor friend Henriot, who has been such a faithful friend of the people, looking as if he were afraid of his masters!"

"Bah!" said Henriot. ",Let me see you cross the square here, with that mad mob howling and shrieking at your heels, and snapping at you like so many dogs—let me see you do it, I say, and then see how you look after the ceremony." " Our noble Henriot is scared," returned Fouquier-Tinville, with a sneer. "Scared, ami? Well, I'll admit it, but don't direct your sneers upon me, or by Heaven I'll drop you from the window right into the thick of the mob, and then we'll see whether you will look scared." " Friend Henriot hath been indulging in wine, as usual," saidJFouquier-Tinville in his calm, irritating way. '

"You lying fiend, I'll- " " And," pursued Fouquier-Tinville, without heeding the interruption, " the excitement of running for his life, coming upon the top of the claret, hath muddled his otherwise clear brain, and soured somewhat the usual sweetness of his temper. Henriot, always a bully, and usually, as now, drunk, writhed under the sarcasms of his companion, and in a terrible rage drew hiß sword, and would have rushed upon Fouquier-Tinville had not Bobespierre interposed. " Silence!" shrieked Bobespierre in his shrill voice. " Are you mad, both of you ? But up your sword, Henriot; put up your sword, I Bay." Henriot sullenly laid it upon a chair close by. "Is there not enough there," continued Bobespierre, pointing to the mob without, " to quiet your quarrels P Will you be butchered in this hole like sheep, or use the little time that is left us to get out of danger? Hark! How they howl!" Fouquier-Tinville shrugged his shoulders, and laughed lightly, whilst both Bobespierre and Henriot turned deadly pale. "Do you hear that P" Bobespierre continued, "it is we they curse, we they seek, and yet you stand aud quarrel like two madmen! It' you are tired of your lives, stay. I'm off," he said decisively. "So am I," said Henriot. Ive had one taste of them 1 I don't perticularly want another." " Allom dome," cried Fouquier-Tinville j " although it seems oruel to slip but by the baok way when so many friends are howling to embrace one at the front door." All three left the room hurriedly; and Jean, half dead from his confinement, to get some fresh air, flung the lid of the Chest wide open, and was emerging from his hiding place when Henriot dashed back into the room to fetoh his sword which he had left behind him. For Jean to get baok into the ohest was imposaible } und, unluokly, the moon, shining into the room, fell full upon his face, which had a most ghostly appearance, considering the time, the place, and the circumstances. "Good Heaven," said Henriot, starting baoK, "what's that? Devils without and devils within 1" and he began to make hia way back to the door without the sword which he had come to fetoh, when he heard a sound which induced him to stop in his course, With the pungent official dust of the box still in his nose, Jean, with Henriot before him, and with all the consequences of the act most painfully present to his mind, sneezed loudly and unmistakeubly. once, twice, thrice! Henr'iot's face and manner changed instantly. With a great sigh of relief, he resumed his natural character of a drunken bully, and,' springing towards Jean, caught him in a fierce grip, dragged him towards the window, and peered into his face. "I don't know you. I oan't see your traitor's face, for the moon's gone in. Ah, here she comes again, so now we shall see," and he threw the window up, and dragged Jean, whom he had already half strangled, into the light. Henriot's appearance at the window was hailed with a loud yell of execration, and, looking doWn, he saw that the space in front of the building was filled with an immense crowd, carrying torches and weapons of almost every description. The mob either reeognLed him, or fancied that they did, for again and again they screamed and howled as he came to the window.

Presently the report of a musket was heard. Henriot hastily loosed his hold of Jean, and flung himself aside j and the bullet, grazing Henriot's arm, entered the breast of Jean Yaldry. " Umph," muttered Henriot escape for me. I must get out of this." And so the moonlight shone silently down on the tumult and the angry voices, and on the pale, prostrate form of Jean Yaldry, who would paint no more picture*, and for whom love and sorrow mi

friendship were gone for evermore. # * # * # The suddenness and bitterness of Eobespierre's fall are matters of history, and one of its consequences was the liberation of Laure Lempriere, together with another in the same plight. Cititzen Dufrane shortly afterwards renounced the errors of bachelorhood, and, taking into his strong arms the little fairy of whom he had dreamed bo much, swore to love her tenderfy and truly for evermore. As they walked from the church, proud of each other, and thankful for their great good fortune, poor C6cile made her way from an obscure corner, whence she had watched the ceremony, and, mixing with the erowd, was never seen bv the Dufranes again. Madame Valdry married again j but her second husband, being wanting in all romance, and as deaf rs a post, soon taught Madame to be obedient and—as talking was quite thrown away upon him—silent.

Jean Valdry's Ipicture may be seen in the Louvre ; and many who knew him, and many more who knaw but his history, as they turned away from the canvas, over which he had often hung so lovingly, might be heard saying sadly to themselves, " Poor Jean 1"

F. E. N.