LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2057, 27 September 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

TAKEN BY STOBM.

‘ Mademoiselle, we are obliged to ask your hospitality. Believe roe, we will encroach upon it as little as possible.’ The speaker, a young Prussian officer in full uniform, beat low before the beautiful girl whom he addressed. But Marie Moreau saw neither the courtly grace of manner, nor noted the young, handsome face and form. She only knew that

the enemy of her country stood before her, that the trl color of France had been dragged down from its standard where it floated pro-

tsctingly over the little French town, and the hated banner of Prussia put in its stead ; that the very privacy of their hearths mid homes had been intruded upon —in many instances ruthlessly—and that the man before her was but a representative of all that the disaster entailed.

_ ‘Sir,’ she answered, her lip curling in undisguised scorn as she spoke, ’we are women, and defenceless. It tits you well that you should make a pretence of asking, through courtesy, that which you have already obtained through force. The only request we cau make of our guests’—emphasizing the latter word with supreme irony—- ' is that we may be permitted to see as little of them as possible. Unless your regretful consideration demands all the honse, leave us any portion, however small, that shall be oars, not only in word but ia deed.’ ‘Mademoiselle, your wishes are commands,’answered the young officer, though a flush had risen to his cheek at her hot words of scorn. *My advice to yon would be to take the upper floor, where there would be no excuse of intrusion upon me I wish most earnestly that I might withdraw my men from the house, bat it is impossible. The town is small, and the troops are many. They are quartered everywhere, and even should I withdraw them, yon might be subjected to fresh annoyances, from which it will ever be my earnest wish to shield you. Permit me, mademoiselle, to hand you my card, and to beg you to command my services, and to report to me any incivility which you may encounter.’ So speaking, he placed on the table beside her a slip of pasteboard, and making a low bow withdrew.

The girl made no motion towaid it, not even bending the haughty little head in recognition of bis courtesy. * Really, Marie,’ said her aunt, stretching out her hand for the card, ‘ the young man was very “polite. It would have better policy, my dear, bad your manner not been so repellant.” ‘ Repellant! ’ exclaimed the young girl, rising from her seat in her excitement, and pacing up and down the room. ‘ I wish i could have crushed him with my scorn. Does he not know that a true Frenchwoman will bear any insult rather than the humiliation of Prussian magnanimity ? I hato them all ! How shall I ever draw a free breath knowing that they live on the same air that sustains me ? Oh, France, be patient: it is but for a little longer ? ’ ‘Hugh von Trenok,’ read the elder lady, aloud, from the card. ‘We mutt not lose this. The young man may [really be of fntnre service to ns.’

‘ Aunt, how can you ? Give me the card, or tear it up yourself. Do you think I would ask a favor at his hands—aye. or'accept one? Never, never!’ and the bright eyes flashed. But madam quietly slipped the little piece of pasteboard within the reticule she wore at her belt, determining, if necessary, to take the young officer at bis word. ‘ Madame will pardon a stranger’s interference, but I must beg that neither she nor mademoiselle venture into the streets to-day. The soldiers are in a state of revelry and riot, which might subject them to insult. Any commands I should be happy to fill. Respectfully, Hugh von Trbnc*:.’ Madame Moreau some three days later, read aloud the above from a card, just slipped beneath their door. Her niece stood before the glass, trying on her hat, and listening, with curling lip. ‘ Ton see, Marie,’ she said, glancing up from the writing, ‘ you must not go out. It would be rash to madness.’

But Marie only picked up her veil, and began adjusting it across the pretty voice. * Marie, do you hear mo ?’ ‘ Yes, Aunt,’ she answered then; ‘but inasmuch as I am very hungry, and there is nothing in the house to eat, I think_it rather a matter of necessity than of choice. Besides, I would rather have open insult than He»r Hugh Von Trench’s magnanimous interference. Have no fear, auntie, lam quite able to take care of myself.’ And, spite of the elder lady’s entreaties, and with a good-by kiss, and a re-assuring smile, she was gone But the smile faded as she stood a moment on the threshold of the outside door, and glanced up and down the street, filled with soldiers The color in her cheek paled to whiteness, and her heart heat loud and fast.

She almost determined to turn hack, when some one standing at her elbow said, in tones so earnest ’as to sound harsh—

* Kid your aunt not receive my warning? ’ It was Hugh von Trenck who spoke. ‘ Are yon in authority in this house, sir, over all its inmates 1 ’ she questioned. ‘lf we are your prisoners, let us know it. Yon can then enforce your wishes 1 • You do me injustice, mademoiselle,’ he replied, in low thrilling tones. * I beg yon for your own sake, not mine, not to venture oat this morning.’ * Your prayers and commands are all one to me sir,’ she retorted. The next minute she had gained the street, fear forgotten in her indignant anger. With quick step she hastened in the necessary direction. Beyond a rude stare of admiration she was unmolested, and her few purchases effected. She started to return, when coming Immediately toward her, extending from the curb to the wall, was a line of Prussian soldiers, arm linked in arm, their steps unsteady from liquor, and their voices raised in laughter and song. What should she do ? She feared to turn and flee, lest they should pursue her. Perhaps by hiding her tremor and walking boldly on they might quietly make room for her to pass. Herr von Trench's hated advice rang in her ears. She should hate him trebly, if it proved unnecessary. But now all the soldiers’ eyes were turned upon her, as they stood an impassable pha'anx barring her way. • Pay us toll, my pretty little Francaiae ! said one, fastening his coarsa gaze upon her, ‘ Yes ; pay ns toil ? ’ the others echoed. ‘ A kiss apiece ! ’ Concealing the awful sinking at her heart, she strove to pass them by stepping down from the curb ; but the outside man and first speaker threw out hia arm to prevent her escape. «No, no 1’ he said, in freezing tones. < You are our prisoner, and we let you off easy. Pay ns willingly, and we will prove as good as our word. Drive us to force, and we will help ourselves. ’ To scream would be bat to gather round her fresh tormentors, so she struggled to bo calm. . ‘Let me pass!’ she said in low indignant tones, when, without deigning further parley, the first speaker threw his arm about her waist. She felt hia tainted breath upon her cheek. Oh, God ! must her lips be polluted by his touch ? With sudden strength she wrenched herself from his grasp, the brutal laugh of the

others jeering in her ears. A soteam, loud and long, hurst from her lips, followed by another and another, as her persecutor again approached, when, as if by magic, some one darted in between them and felled the ruffian to the earth. The others, bold with drink, murmured angrily, but a gleaming pistol soon silenced them, even as they recognised their young colonel, ond respectfully moved away. Calling a guard, he put the man he held under his heel in arrest, then turned and offered his arm to the trembling girl. She saw® then, for the first time, that it was Hugh von Trenck who had saved her. Haughtily refusing his arm, hating herself, but hating him more, she walked on in silence by his side. At her dcor, she forced herself to speak — ‘ Sir, I owe you my thanks,’ she said. «Mademoiselle, the day will come when you will pay me your debt in full,* he replied, and loft her. What did ho mean? His words, the man hiimelf, haunted her. Uow brave and full of courage he had been ! How nobly he bad

come to her relief I How generously he had uttered no word of reproach, or of th« truth that she had brought It all oa herself 1 If he had not been a Prussian, she might almost have liked him. As it was—but she got no further than that. Bhe broke down in a storm of tears. A week later the troops, all but a small reserve, were ordered out for a sortie. Paris bad long been In siege, and must soon capitulate. With all her heart Marie prayed night and day for success to the flag already doomed. That her cause would be lost seemed to her impossible. Now and then the winds bore to hex ear the bcom of cannon. They were fighting not far off, and among them the man she had treated with such disdainful contempt. Could it be that she thought of him at such a time ? The third day the fighting ceased—the Prussians were again victorious j but all the night long they were bringing back the dead and wounded into the little town. It was just daybreak: when a squad of soldiers halted at her door. She had not dreamed of undressing daring the long night. A nameless dread had tortured her. She knew this moment what it was. As to herself she went down and threw open the dcor to receive the senseless form they bore. * This way! ’ she said, with quist dignity, and led the way to her own room, and her own bed. He had told her she should repay her debt. Could he have foreseen this day? Would he ever know what she had dane for him ? For weeks his Ufa hung in tho balance ; but one night he opened his grey eyes to consciousness, and they rested on the solitary figure at his side. Her aunt, weary, had gone to rest. A smile broke the white, thin face.

‘Yon here, mademoiselle ? ’ he said, * Yes,’ she answered, ‘I am here.’ He held out his wasted hand, and she silently placed hers within it. Then, still with a smile about his lips, he fell asleep ; but from that moment the tide had turned, and life had gained the victory. He was almost well again, when one day came the tidings of the fall of Paris, and on the same day, by the fatality of fate, came to hinr the news of his promotion to a. general’s rank. ‘Ah, mademoiselle,’ he said, *1 cannot rejoice while you weep I once said you should pay yonr debt- I Utile imagined how yon would pay it. I meant then that the day should como when you should love and marry me. 1 had loved you from the first moment my eyes rested on yon, spite of your scorn and contempt. But now yon have paid yonr debt in your own way. You have given me bask my life. I will no longer to ctnre you by my presence. I will go away and leave yon. ’ And he turned his head, that she might not see the moisture in his eyes. But softly she stole to his side, and kneeling down, nestled her head on his arm * If I say stay, Hugh, then will yon go?’ ‘ My love—my darling ! do yon mock me Oh, this is crnel 1 ’ * Nay, Hugh, I am like my own poor Paris,’ she replied. ‘The siege has been a long one, bat she and I, I fear, have alike been ‘ Taken by Storm.’