LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 939, 28 June 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

WHO WAS HE ? WHO IS HE ? {Continued.) She soon returned to her father, attended by a tall martial figure with a splendid head. This was Jean Balguier, one of Bonaparte’s old Egyptians, who had been the general’s orderly from the disastrous Russian campaign in 1812 to the final cataclysm in 1815, and had carried his body, without even a scratch, through all the Titanic struggles from Yalmy to Waterloo, lie was a native of Martigny in Switzerland, who had come to Baris, a lad of thirteen, at the hottest time of the Revolution, and had joined Kellerinann’s forces as a republican volunteer. After the disbandment of the Loire army he had entered the general’s private service Estelle now—in summer 1829 ■ twelve years old, was indeed a little fairy. The artless simplicity of childhood was marvellously blended in her with the sound sense of riper years. She promised fair to have all the sweet charms of her mother, united with her father’s noblest qualities. She had received a most excellent education, and spoke English, German, and Italian with equal fluency and purity as French, having passed a few years by turns in England, Germany, and Italy. She was tall of her age, of slender build and graceful shape, with a face of the purest antique Greek type, beautiful Maria Stuart eyes, and a profusion of golden locks

It was in Mar' igny, at the Hotel Latour, that General Buplessis-Tersac was at pre sent staying with his daughter. ‘ At your command, general! ’ said Jcan Balguier, with the customary military salute. ‘Sergeant Balguier,’ said the general, in brief commanding accents, ‘you will attend my daughter on an excursion into the mountains ; you will take care that she comes (o no harm.’ Then, as the sudden twinge of the gout, which had mainly contributed to impart to the order a slight tinge of imperious harshness, passed away, he added, in a much gentler and more hearty way, ‘ I

know yon will take care of my darling Estelle, dear old Jean. Indeed, I would not trust my daughter to the best professed guide in the mountains ; with you I am sure she is quite safe.’ ‘ No fear about that, general,’ replied the sergeant confidently. ‘ho long as lam with Mademoiselle Estelle not a shadow even of danger shall come near our dear young lady. There is not a part of the mountains for leagues around here that I am not familiar with. ’

‘ Good-bye, dear papa, then,’ cried Estelle, tenderly embracing the general. ‘ Come along, Jean, you dear old fellow, who are always so kind to me, even when my whims set ymr aged limbs trotting through the mountains. Aged limbs indeed 1 Why, you arc younger and stronger than the youngest and stoutest of our guides. lam quite of papa’s way of thinking. I would not trust myself with the best of them. Come along, dear Jean ! ’ The frank open countenance of the old soldier expanded in a happy smile of pleased contentment. He repeated his military salute, then followed his young mistress, who had tripped off lightly before him. It was a line day. only a little sultry. The young ladj had he’ fill of roving through the mountains, lb would have been difficult indeed to tire out little Estelle ; she was the very impersonation of Heine’s glorious type of gracefulness of form combined with sus tained power of motion and unwearied vigor of action. Her faithful squire and guide was perhaps the only man in these mountains who could well keep up with the little sylph. At about three in the afternoon the excursionists found themselves at several leagues’ distance from Martigny, on the road to Chamouny. Here Jean Balguier ventured to hint to his young mistress that it would be desirable to think of their return to the Hotel Latour. The younu lady—who indeed would have preferred to pushonalittle farther towards the secret goal of her dreams and aspirations, the great Mont Blanc acquiesced nevertheless w th a pretty good grace. It seemed very curious, but somehow she thought she observed that Jean Balguier did not look quite in his usual way. She had seen a troubled expression come into bis face once or twice as they were walking along, and he bad raised his hands repeatedly to" his head. He seemed somehow to feel ill at ease; but wdien she solicitously asked him whether there was anything the matter with him, he replied in his usual calm way, ‘ Nothing whatever is the matter with me, Mademoiselle Estelle ; it is only the beat of the weather, which incommodes me a little perhaps. Why, it seems hotter to-day than I have ever known it to be even in Egypt and Syria.’ They had hardly begun to set out on Heir homeward march, and were just moving cautiously along a narrow path by the side of a steep precipice, when there suddenly burst over them—quick, short, and sharp—an Alpine storm. ‘ How very vexing, to be sure ! ’ cried Jean Balguier, half-impatiently. ‘ That was the matter with me, I see now—-this most unwelcome messenger from the skies, which is likely to delay us for hours, and the general will be waiting so anxiously for your return, Mademoiselle Estelle.’ ‘ AYell, we had better move on as fast as the storm will permit us.’ replied the young girl. *I am not half so much put out by it, though, as you seem to be, dear old Jean. I must confess I have a passionate liking for storms, particularly in the mountains ’ * Maybe, Mademoiselle Estelle ; but one may get too much of it,’ the old soldier said, in a strangely hesitating way, raising his left hand involuntarily to his head. ‘At all events, let us hasten, Mademoiselle Estelle, to get away from this.’ They were walking side by side along the ledge, Jean Balguier protecting, as it were, his young mistress with his own stalwart body against the roaring storm and the pelting rain. Suddenly he turned purple in the face, an agonised cry burst from his lips. ‘O my God ! Back, Mademoiselle Estelle —back! for Heaven’s— ’

The alpenstock dropped from his nerveless grasp, and rolled over into the gulf beneath. Unhappily dean Balguier, struck with a tit of apoplezy, followed after. His last thought on earth, his last semi-conscious act in life, had been to shield and save his adored young mistress, the daughter of his revered chief and master, who, prompted by the impulse of her generous nature, had, with foreboding fear, bent forward overeagerly to clutch at his coat, and hold him from falling. In vain—nay, only to precipitate the sad catastrophe; for, in his noble devotion, he had rushed backward nearer to the verge of the precipice, and, most unhappily, the impetus thus given to the lithe 1 ttle body caused poor Estelle to stumble ; and before she could recover and stay herself, she rolled over, and began sliding rapidly down some four yards of a steep slope, terminating abruptly at the very edge of the perpendicular precip ce. 'Here her descent was suddenly arrested by the silk sa«h, thrown over her shoulder and tied round her waist, being firmly caught upon a jagged protrusion projecting some nine inches beyond the surface of the rock. Hero the poor child remained suspended face downwards. Some four hundred feet V elow lay the mangled corpse of the truehearted old warrior, who had been faithful unto death. The eyes seemed to glare upwards, with the same last look of agonised horror in them, as if they were still sentient and conscious. Some terrible minutes passed thus—ineffably, indescribably terrible. The girl’s life was literally hanging upon a few slender threads of tissue. But the brave spirit quailed not she indeed thought not of herself in these supreme moments ; she thought only with bitterest sorrow of her faithful friend lying stark below, and. with acutest grief, of her beloved father, who might even now be anxiously waiting for his darling’s return, and, alas, must wait in vain. A passionate yearning came into her soul, and she lifte 1 her thoughts in deep silen" prayer to the Almighty Disposer of events, to spare her young life for her father’s sake. An intense hushed whisper reached her car from above : ‘ Hope ! Help is near ! Move not, for your life ! Can you hear and understand me ?’ (T/> he continued.)