Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 349: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

340 THE ARGOSY. Clarisse roughly forced away the fingers that clung to her skirt. Then she lifted the pile of linen that lay in a dim corner. “ Here,” she said. It was as ifa wild torrent had been covered with ice, her voice was so cold, so out of keeping with the throbbing of her heart. She went back to her weaving and the squad of soldiers blocked up the door. Behind them peered the faces of the village women. “They say they tracked him here, and won’t go to Sedan without him or the money he'll bring,” called one in the broad patots of the district. Somewhere in the crowd a woman laughed derisively. “It’s likely he’d come back here— to her! Isn’t it?” “ Or that she would hide him!” The officer in command turned. ‘What do you mean?” he asked sharply. The old derisive laugh beat again on Clarisse’s ears. ‘Ask her.” ‘Yes—yes! Ask her!” Clarisse left her spinning and came forward. “They mean,” she said addressing the senior officer, “ that I’m a French- woman and would not hide a spy!” “No—no, we don’t mean that,” called back the taunting voices. “Make haste,” said the officer top the squad, “ we’ve no time to lose. The Prussians are close behind. Search the house—we’ve tracked him here.” Still the incessant noises in the val- ley, and far off the steady measured tramp of countless feet, cruel in their purpose, relentless in their tread. “The Prussians!” whispered the women. _“ The Prussians!” said the officer, looking at his men. “The Prussians!” cried Clarisse, her voice ringing out sharp and incis- ive as one of the drum beats that were sounding ever nearer. “ Don’t waste your time here,” she went on, going up to the French officer. “ He was the man who wronged me! I hate the Prussians but I hate him more! I hate him—do you hear?” She threw out her hands passionately, “ /—hate— him!” Below in the valley there rose a col- umn of smoke—the smoke of the Prussian pillage—and the cries of women and the sobs of peasant chil- dren. The squad moved restlessly. “ We’re not going to stay here to be shot or captured,” they said among themselves, ‘““ We care more for our own skins than we do about the spy. He isn’t here. Look at her eyes flash- IIT. WHEN the squad had joined in that last forced retreat to Sedan, the man crept from beneath the pile of weav- ings, to find Clarisse standing in the doorway defiantly watching the Prus- Sians as they passed. “ Clarisse,” he whispered, “ God will——” She let her eyes wander from the band of invaders that was marching by her door, long enough to turn them on him fiercely. ‘“‘T don’t want any of that! ” she said. “ And who are you to call on God? Go back to your wife and to—your country!” She looked at him scornfully. It was as though the legions of France had conquered instead of the army of Prussia. She watched him as he slipped into the ranks that were passing. She watched the file steadily, proudly, as though it held the men of Napoleon that she was sending forth to victory. It was only when the last line of alien faces had vanished that she dropped her eyes in shame. “ Diew—that he should have fought with such robbers! ” She turned and went into the house and back to her loom. eonnicbool CO