Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 37, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 January 1905 — Woman The Mystery [ARTICLE]

Woman The Mystery

By HENRY HERMAN

CHAPTER XXII ffbwi they arrived tit the" chemist's . •hop they found that the sufferer was •till there, lying nurtiHscmus in the room «t the back of the shop, while the police kept • crowd of papers at hay outside. Two medical inch were engaged in a j heated argument about liieir respective j diagnoses of the case, while Henri's j groom stood by. waiting their decision. ! Helene and Adams were,both well known ■So the chemist, and obtained immediate admission to the wounded man's pxes«nce. To Adams' experienced eye even the most outward symptoms were at once conclusive. 11 is deadly pallor, his total unconsciousness, his cold, clammy skin, the arms and legs which were bent upon the body, the slow breathing and the transient shivering proved that Henri ■was suffering from concussion. In addition to this, his right*leg was severely injured, his horse having stepped on him, and it was crushed and splintered below the knee. i Adams., who was taken bv the Frenchman to be an English colleague, ordered the patient's immediate removal to his rooms at the Hotel Birnndot. where he occupied the whole of one floor, and •Helene insisted upon herself and Adams accompanying him thither:. When the doctors demanded absolute quiet for the “wounded man, and forbid all visits, Helene protested. “He will require a nurse,’’ she pleaded, “and I am a very good one. I have had plenty of experience, and my time fe my own. Do let me stay: i will be ao eareful!” """ “For the present, at any rate, my dear," said Adams, “such a thing can»ot be. I do not know what can prompt yon to your course of action, but I will not ask you to explain." "You need not,” rejoined Helene. “You would not understand mv reasons if I gnve them to you. But I may come back, mav I not V" The doctors promised that as soon as their patient was in a state to be seen by anybody, permission should be granted to her. "Perhaps you will tell me, my dear." •aid Adams, as they were driving back to Helene's mansion, “who is this man in whom you are taking so groat an interest? You say he saved your life. How was that?" “Henry Roberts is Henri Sainton,” an•wered Helen, “who loved me when lie was a boy ami I a girl, and whom you sent to penal servitude, lie is the Louisiana soldier of your battalion who saved me from being murdered by that horrible man outside of the Northern' picket lines.”

"What!” cried Adams. “Do you mean to tell me that you can bear a kindly memory for the man who, whatever you may say, aided that man Quayle in his attempt upon your life?" ”1 remember,” was Helene's retort, “that he saved my life at tlie risk of his own.” There was no further assault after that defense. Adams bit his lip, and when they had arrived at Helene's door, he left her with a simple “Good day. ■my dear.” A fortnight passed, during which Helene called twice,every day at Henri's hotel without being allowed to see him -—a fortnight portentous to the fate of Europe. War hadJieen declared against Germany, and all Paris for the moment went mad. As the week wore on. came the news of disaster and defeat, mid the foreign residents of Paris eoninietwed to •eek Safer quarters. Helene hud been untiring in her attendance upon Henri all this while. The injured man had regained consciousness, but the surgeons still forbid all lint the most casual conversation. A few weeks more passed, during which Henri rallied •Jowly, still with Helene ns his faithful nurse and attendant. Then came the news of thq disaster ®f Sedan —MaeMnhon wounded, iiis army destroyed or captive, nnd the Emperor himself a prisoner. Ail this was swiftly followed by the nation's vengeance in the form of the proclamation of tlie republic. Months passed, and Henri was still unable to rise from his couch. The injured leg had been put into a shield of plaster of paris. and motion was forbidden: *1 ti tbe meant into evdfifj Around ah«T about Paris had proceeded with hurricane pace. The enemy had drawn around the besieged city a line of iron nnd flame, and the thunders of war crashed nnd roared from every hillside around the city.

Ail Helene’s friends had left, all except Walter, faithful Walter, who was glad to find an excuse for staying in the acceptance of a toiiqforary post at the British embassy, so that lie might remain near the woman lib 'loved Walter, however. took.Jpe not to let Helene know that hoyWus still in Paris. He did not wish to obtrude his' presence upon her. llis purpose was to watch over her, to protect her, if danger threatened, not to force his suit upon her when •lie seemed to lie so happy iu the society of another nutn. W-iuter came on apace, and the terrors of tlie sijjje increased, but Helene saw and felt .tulle of these. Being known to be possessed of immense wealth, the proprietor of tlie hotel in which she lived did hi* best so that she should feel none of the privations which pressed upon ■early all the population. No man can be for any length of time fat the daily society of a beautiful woman without feeling drawn toward her, nnd Henri. who first of all looked upotf IlelMt merely ns a woman who had betrayed him, and whom he might treat with each scant honesty as to his mind site deserved, gradually came to look for Helma visits as for a necessity in id* life. Thus it came quite naturally that Helaw’i lore for Henri raised a harvest of •Section on the barren, stouyAoil of the ism’s heart. Boon they both gttt to know that each knew that the other loved him «r her. During all those long, weary months, Walter never once approached Helene, ■vary day a messenger from the British aaafcaasy inquired at the two hotels after Mma and Henri, but the man had strict •■ism not to mention Walter's name, and BaUaa thought that Lord Yorley had left iMractlona at the embassy that she he

looked after, and that the British representatives in Paris did their best carry mil IVhrd ,Yuriev's wishes. The year 1870 had been terrible enough for poor, down-trodden Franco, and its encompassed capital, but 1871 added to the horrors. It seemed as if the judgment of air avenging heaven were heavy upon the frailest of the frail among cities. Henri's recovery continued extremely slow. The doctors came every day. and still forbid all exertion. Thus passed the first month of the new year. Then on a sudden the storm clouds parted asunder, and a streak of blue sky became visible on the political horizon. Paris capitulated to the Germans, and an armistice was signed, with peace, blessed peace, Hi the near distance. Adams had left Helene in anger. He never believed that the siege would last for a month, and he dwelt in London eating his heart out with remorse and se!(-chiding. He had and could have no hews from Helene, and he blamed himself for having left her in the hour of peril. When the news of the negotiations for peace reached London, lie packed a handbag. and started for Paris by the night mail. High influence procured him a pass through which he was allowed to enterd the beleaguered city among the very first. It was a dark, dull winter morning when he presented himself at Helene's hotel, having learned her whereabouts from the servants at her mansion. Helene, when Adams’ name was given to her, simply muttered, "Oh, what a bore!" and prepared herself to receive her former protector with the best possible grace. The Louisianian perceived, however, before ho had been in Helehe’s presence many minutes, that he was not overwelcome. Helene's mind seemed to be away somewhere, and lie shrewdly surmised that Henri was the cause of it. The next day was a very bright and sunny one. such ns winter in Paris often brings, and the cheering rays streamed through the windows;-and made the prisoner of so many days long to be without. in the sunlit gardens which he knew were at the end of the street, anywhere but in the room in which lie had been chained to his couch for so many months. But that was impossible yet, although the doctors promised that in a few days perhaps-a ride in a carriage might be permitted. Helene, to alleviate the injured man's disappointment, ordered the attendants to move the soft-to the window, and had Henri carried there. She was about to place a chair for herself ait a little distance. when he beckoned to her and said: “There is room enough, if you will sit here by me. 1 want you to sit quite close to me, because I want to look into your eyes, and to tell you something I have longed to say to you these days past.” He took her dainty lingers in his hand and pressed them gently while his eyes became troubled, as if for the first time he were afraid to address her.

“1 may as well confess my sins to start with,” lie said, seeing that Helene was silent, "and then, perhaps, I may hope to be forgiven. I will tell you the truth. I hated you, my dear, when you first came here. It had been my intention to humble you, to bring you to my feet, nnd then to leave your heart to break. 1 knew not wliat was in store for me. You came day by day, nnd you crept into my heart hour by hour, slowly but as surely as fate itself, until now, were you to leave me. I should die of misery. My darling, I love you. I believe that you love me. When I am strong enough and well enough. Will you allow me to make you my wife?” Bhe had turned her face to him as lie was speaking, nnd had gradually drawn closer to him. He was feeble still, but lie went forward and put his arms around her neck. She aided by a gentle movement, and he kissed her. She had answered him by her silent submission, while a joyful tear stole down her cheek. CHAPTER XXIII. They determined to be married at tbe British embassy in a month. As the days passed, every one of which brought Helene's hopes of happiness nearer, the cloud of terror which hud hung over fated Paris assumed a new and more awe"tHSptrlqykhapp*/ “ l "*~ But a few weeks previously the enemies of France, the Germans, had threatened Paris, nnd held the population in awe, but now Frenchmen arrayed against Frenchmen, shedding one another’s blood, maiming, slaying, destroying. The I’russions stood by. smiling with grim satisfaction, while Frenchmen out one another's throats. The red flag of the Commune was unfurled, ami Ilelene, sitting in Henri's room, could hear tlie rattle of the musketry when scores of unarmed,. inoffensive citizens were murdered in cold blond. Adams had gone away, flatly refusing to assist at the ceremony, either as witness or ns friend. There was nobody left but Walter to stand in the place of father nr brother for Ilelene. and Walter, true to the Inst, accepted the post of torment. His position at the embassy made tlie task a trifle easier for him, but the bitterness of it had to be tasted, none the less. At last the morning of the 14th of April, the day appointed for the wedding, dawned. At 11 o’clock they were to he married nt the British embassy. It was noon, and the fateful ceremony was over. Henri nnd Helene were man and wife according to English law. Walter hail stood by with an icy tooth gnawing nt liis heart and tearing nt it, hut ; lie had borne himself like n man, and the worst of the pain was pnst. There was to be a simple luncheon, ouly Henri, Helene, Walter nnd eight or ten intimate ft iends joining in it. Helene had gone to her room, in the company of two or three ladies, to change her dress, and the gentlemen were in the dining room when on a Midden the room was invaded by a dozen or more guards, fully armed, headed by n man whose gold-laced cap indicated an officer’s rank, although liis blue blouse, his drink-sod-den face, his whole appearance, indicated a drover or a butcher. Tbo gentlemen in the room nil rose in surprise. But they* were*npt long left in doubt about the reason of the intrusion.

“We hate caught you at last,” said ♦He officer, blinking and hiccoughing as lie went on. “Citizen Henri Bninton. who calls'himself monsieur—mark you," lie said, turning to his soldiers—"mark you. Monsieur Henry Roberts. This fine monsieur is a -French”'citizen, and. what do you think? lie grows rich—millions and millions of francs —and ho does not give his poor country a thought. lie neither serves his country, nor does ,he pay. Therefore, Monsieur Henri Sainton," with an emphasis on the monsieur, “we will take you to prison and the Commune will decide wliat shall be done with you." ' "I have served my country,” cried Henri, rising in anger. "I have served the cause of French liberty, when you were probably hiding behind casks. I fought for the Reds in ’4B. and I was shot and sent to the galleys for having done so. And now you come and tell me that I have not done fey'duty to the Cojjymme.” “You can explain all that to the General when you see him," hiccoughed the Communist. “But I warn you, Citizen Henri Sainton, that he is not a credulous kind of man, if you make your tale not very plausible he will have you shot for lying. He is very quick-tempered, and he is nasty when he is angered.” “You surely see, sir,” interposed Walter, “that this gentleman is an invalid. It lias been impossible for him to join the army or the Commune either for months pnst, because he has been confined to his room.” “The citizen can explain all he wants to the General. He can urge any excuse he likes. I don't think it will help him much. I am in a and if you please, Citizen Henri Sainton, we will go away together.” Ilesista nee was,. of course, useless, and Henri submitted quietly, while two sul-len-faced fellows, their semblance of uniforms stained with blood, took him, one by either arm, and pushed him roughly along, as he was not yet active enough to proceed at the pace they required. They were already on the landing when Helene came flying down the staircase. She saw at a glance what had occurred, and, with a womanly disregard .of consequences, she darted upon the soldiers who guarded her husband and flung herself between them. “Who is that woman?” cried the officer. And Henri replied: “She is my wife.” “I don't care whether she is your wife or your daughter, or your mother, or your grandmother. Push her back, some of you! And bring this man along.” One of the villains gripped Helene's arm and dragged Henri away from her. She had been brave enough years ago, when her own life was in danger. But now, with her heart throbbing for the man who held her hope of happiness on earth, calm reason seemed to be dashed from her, and Helene felt herself staggering. Then nil grew dark around her, and for the space of a second or two, the poor woman stood with raised -arms wildly writhing in the air. Then she fell forward, being caught by Walter, who had stepped forward in the nick of time. CHAPTER XXIV. It was that awful week in May, 1871, which Frenchmen to this day call “the terrible week.” Paris was in flames. A cloud of smoke and a canopy of fire hung over the doomed city. All night the sky had been one lurid crimson sheet, and even the rising king of day had nos been able to entirely chase away the bloodied hue of the firmament. Rnrrieade after barricade was taken by the soldiers of France, who paid with their blood the price of the rescue of an awe-stricken populace. The revolutionists who had intended to make Paris their booty and France their playthiug were being driven from street to street, from barricade to barricade, from house to house, until at last only the northeastern portion of the city remained in their clutches. But they did not mean to die without revenging themselves upon the innocent, helpless beings whom they held as hostages. Nigh on three hundred prominent citizens, headed by the Archbishop of Paris and the vicar general of the diocese, had been imprisoned ns hostages. As bit hv hit of Paris was wrenched from the hands of the Communards, these were tfiken to the prison of La Roquette,' •Henri among them. Helene passed her days in endeavoring to beseech the griinifd hearts who governed Paris for mercy for her husband. Her nights were endless hours of agony of waiting, when heaven seemed to have closed its portals to her prayer, and even her scalding tears left her heart shivering, frigid* as ice. When at last the crashes of the cannons of the regulars, and the volleys of their rifles, told her that the cud was eeming, n new dread sprang upon her. What if the revolutionists were to carry out their threats to murder those poor men whom they held as hostages? She flew to the Couoiergerie,' and arriving there just in time to see a score or so of open carts, guarded by a motley crew of soldiery, being taken along the by the Seine. In .answer to her question whither the miserable wretches were being taken, she was told to La Roquette. To La Roquette! That surely meant death. La Roquette was the prison of the condemned. The guards pushed her roughly hack, when she attempted to get nenr poor Henri. lie saw her from the distance of a dozen paces, and smiled sadly and kissed his hand to her. Once more she hastened to the Hotel de Yille, where for the nonce she found one of the Central Committee, more lighthearted or more reckless than the rest. "So your husband is at La Roquette,” ho said, "and you want to go to him there, my pretty Indy. We will show you that we are gentlemen, ami that we do everything wo can to please pretty ladies. You shall go and see your husband. I wish I were he.” The paper was signed and in Helene’s hands. She reached La Roquette, anil her pass procured her eutrance. She had to wait hours, however, before she vas allowed to see Henri. • At (ast one of the keepers came and called her name, “Cidleness Sainton!”, and after tramping with the man up staircases nnd through corridors which seemed to her to he without end, she was thrust into a big room with bare stone walls, nnd two little windows guarded by bars of forbidding strength. There were other ladies there as heartbroken, as sorely Btricken as herself, seated with their husbands on the rough wooden benchee. Henri met her, and she sank into his arms like a atone that

is dropped into the water. Cold as lee, and seemingly lifeless, he clasped her to his breast. “Don't grieve for me, my dear,” ha said. '*l know what is going to happen to ine, and I am prepared. But you must “hot suffer for having joined your fate to mine. This will soon be over, and then you can go away lo your own country. I know there are other men who love you. perhaps-quite as well tfs myself—perhaps better, if that be possible—and one of these will make you happy.” “No,” she said, “surely they would not dare to murder you. You have done ao n rung:’”' ~~ j. “That is no reason,” he replied. “I am rich, you see, and that is my Crime. My wealth brought me the happiness of your love, alas! to be lost so soon.” Thus they sat; hand in hand, for an hour perhaps, she leatiing her wet cheek against his, he comforting and soothing her in her sorrow. Then the-jailer came again, and told her that the time of the \isit was over, and that she must go. "Let me stay only a little while I pray you, let me stay!” she pleaded. The man replied that it was impossible. Tlie others all left the room bj twos and twos, the men turret urn to -their cells, the women to go forth into the burning city. One of the officers of the jail returned at last with the jailer, and found Helene with Henri. "You must really go, citizeness,” he snid. "When the door of this corridor closes, you will no longer be able to leave. Make your choice. Go! For you can only stay here as a prisoner.” “Good!” replied Helene, rising with the dignity of a captive queen. “Close the door. I will stay as a prisoner.” ******* Monday had passed, and Tuesday was gone, and it was Wednesday evening. Huddled in one corner of the prison yard stood some four or five score doomed men, while a little further away a company of Communist infantry were drawn up facing the high gray-stone wall of the yard. An officer called out a list of names, commencing with that of the Archbishop of Paris, and following it up with those of about a score of ecclesiastical dignitaries. '

The archbishop, still in a portion of his robes, bare-headed nnd smiling calmly like a martyr of old, walked slowly to the wall, and placed himself there. The others followed in liis footsteps, and a row of priest-martyrs faced the muskets. The archbishop was standing with one hand raised, blessing his murderers, when— —- “Ready! Fire!” cried the officer. And the score or so were dashed to the ground by the iron hail, while the gray stones were bespattered with red blotches. Another list of names —Henri’s name this time among them. Helene, who had been standing with Ilonri, clasping hand in hand, clung to him. A soldier gripped her by the neck, and flung her aside, as if she were a log. . Half stunned and sorely hurt. Helene dragged herself to her feet and flew to where her husband was standing;among tlie pile of the dead, and locked her arms around his neck. “Citizeness!” cried the officer. “Out of the way. or it will be your own fault!” ”f shall stay here with iny husbaYid, nnd die with him here,” was Helene's ealni reply. Without a second’s pause the officer again cried, “Ready! Fire!” All was over. Henri and Helene fell together, hand in hand. (The end.)