Beadle's Dime Novels No. 95 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

94 EPH PRTERS. “You have found me guilty, you! A count of the empire, of conduct ‘unbecoming a gentleman! You dare to do it! Yes, I have something to say. You try me by the aid of two sworn enemies. I spit upon your verdict. I laugh it to scorn.” | “ Are you done ?” “ Until I-hear the sentence, yes.” “The sentence of the court is, that you be dismissed dis- honorably from the army, after being borne through it from end to end upon a mule, with ‘ poltroon’ printed upon your back, and with your face to the animal’s tail. You will then be driven out of the lines of the army, to go where you may.” Never, perhaps, upon any human face, was such a war of hellish passion portrayed, as upon that of Jaques Chattillon. He gasped for breath, and clutched at the air, as one who has received a sudden blow. Suddenly, his eye fell upon Moran, standing apart and looking at him with an expression of mingled scorn and triumph. At this sight, the mad passion of his heart boiled over. He sprung away from his two guards, and drawing a double-barreled pistol from a concealed pocket, fired one charge full upon the breast of the partisan. -He reeled back- ward, falling into the arms of Ronald, who caught him as he fell. “Keep back,” said the madman, menacing the guards with his pistol. “TI have « few words to say, and then you may have me. I might kill you, Captain Mannering, but I hardly feel toward you as I do toward the dog you hold in~ your arms. Good-by all. Comrades, I am going to my own country, by my own conveyance. Good marquis, I shall not ride your mule.” “ Seize him !” shouted Montcalm. “Ha! ha!” he cried, putting the pistol to his head, “ thus I thwart you.” The pistol cracked, just as the hand of one of the grenadiers ‘was laid upon his shoulder, and he fell, almost without a struggle, dead on the floor.of the marquée. “Take him out, there, guards,” cried the marquis. “ At- , tend to Moran. Back, there, give him air. How is it with thee, my Hubert ?” CO - * 3 — |