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Show A Woman's Courage. (By J. Normand.) (Translated by Susan H. Taber) (Copyrighted.) My earliest remembrance of my aunt Herminie pictures her in her little apartment in the boulevard boule-vard Bonne Nouvelle, opposite the gymnasium. I see her sitting near the window that was kept constantly closed, her feet resting on a little foot warmer burning alike in winter and summer. Small, very thin and always in her big arm chair amidst a sea of pillows. But this frail body, so pitifully affected by every ev-ery material contact, served as a covering for a most generous soul, capable of the rarest devotion. devo-tion. It was during The Reign of Terror wnen she was 20 years old, that her bravery, her energy, saved not only herself, but ten men with her. At that time, Aunt Hermanie, already an orphan, was living near Corbeille, in the abandoned convent con-vent of Manvolsin. There were two old women living there with her. Mde. Mnrichal and Mde. Badouillet, the former tall and thin and the latter lat-ter fat and one-eyed. One evening but it were better to let Aunt Herminie tell her own story, as she used to do so often to me, interrupting interrupt-ing herself from time to time, to take another in-jube in-jube out of her pretty enamelled box. "So you want to hear that old story again, little lit-tle one? Ah, those were stirring times! Very well then, listen.: We were sitting that evening around the fire and Mde Marichal and I were talking talk-ing while Mde Badouillet was sound asleep. It must h.'e been about 10 o'clock. Outside the wind was blowing hard and there was beautiful moon-light. Oh! I remember it all so well. Suddenly Sud-denly there came a rap at the door. But before I go any further, I must first tell you that a troop of soldiers had arrived at the convent con-vent that day, about a hundred in all. Their captain, cap-tain, a big, red-haired man, had showed us a paper pa-per giving permission to lodge over night at the convent. They had installed themselves in the chapel and spent the time drinking, singing and playing cards. It wag a most mrernal racket they made, but as night came on they had calmed down and were then sound asleep, pell mell all over the chapel. You can understand, little one, that it was not a very comfortable position for three lone women. wo-men. Mde Marichal's husband was away. Mde Badouillet was a widow and I am an orphan. We had locked ourselves in the hall on the ground floor between the road and the cnapel and that is where we were when the knock came, as I told you. Mde. Badouillet waked up with a start, and we all three looked at each other with frightened eyes. In another moment, the knock sounded again, stronger this time. We were strongly tempted to pretend we were dear, as you may well understand. But there was no such joking allowed there and if you refused hospitality hospital-ity to the patriots you passed for a suspect and it was not a long road from there to the guillotine. guillo-tine. Mde. Marichal began to tell her beads, ana Mde. Badouillet trembled all over. Furthermore, as I was the youngest, it was cleariy my duty to open the door. Outside stood a group of men with big hats, making a black spot on the silvery road. They seemed weary and their boots were covered with dust. My first movement was to snut the door in their face, but one of them took a step forward stretched out his hand and in a low, trembbng voice said: "Shelter, citizenness, give us shelter for the night. We are dying of fatigue. Mercy! And a murmur ran through the whole group: "Mercy, mercy." "Who are you?" I asked. "Fugitives: Scouts of the Gironae. We are pursued. Save us!" Gironains! You will understand later, my child, what that word meant. I'or the present it is enough to know that they were poor peoplo, flying from Paris and pursued and tracked by the Montaguards, that is, their enemies. "Unhappy men," I replied, "fly as quickly as you can for the chapel is full of soldiers. If you enter here, it is all up with you." They paused a moment, hesitating. But a pale young man, very slight, leaning on the arms of two of his companions, murmured feebly: "What! March on further! I cannot. Go, go my friends, save yourselves and leave me here. I would rather die." They were brave men, these Girondins. The idea of abandoning their comrade, they did not consider for a moment. "Is there not some other place than the chapel where we could rest for two hours, oh! only two hours?" asked the one who had spoken nrst. "Nothing but this room," I answered, standing aside a little. "But the chapel has no other exit than that door," and 1 pointed to the door at the back, "and it is through here that the soldiers go in and out. They would see you ana you would be lost." Utter discouragement was painted on the poor man's face. I have told you that the night was clear and everything was as visible as in the day. "Adieu, citizenness," he said, simply. "The country is full of people who are pursuing us. Pray for us that we may escape." Then turning to his companions: "Let us go on," he mur-mured. mur-mured. What could I do, child? I was distressed and my heart felt as though it would break. I understood under-stood all that they had suffered and all that they were to suffer. I looked at their stooping shoulders shoul-ders and their bruised feet Certainly in letting them go, I escaped all danger, while by keeping them I exposed, not only myself, but my two companions. But what else could I do? My pity overcame all prudence, a sort of fever seized me, and just as they were about to go, I said: "Listen, wait There is perhaps one place, 8 very dangerous place." They drew near, anxious. Behind me I could H har Mde. JVtarichal and Mde. Badouillet whis-D whis-D ptring, tremblingly: H "What is she saying? "What is she saying?" H But, caring little for them, I continued: B "You would have to follow along the wall, a H Vc y narrow passage, a kind of cornice that hangs H 0 r, and directly above the sleeping soldiers. If th y hear the least noise, if one of them should wake up. ." "And who will guide us there?" "I." I tell you, little one, I no longer knew myself. I acted as if in a dream. Their safety had become be-come my only aim. They consulted together a moment, one short moment during which Mde. Marichal did not cease to pull me by the petticoats and whisper: "You are crazy, utterly crazy." "Thanks for your kindness, citizenness. We accept!" they said at last. I stood aside and they entered silently, on tiptop. tip-top. There must have been ten of them and their fatigue and dilapidated condition were pitiful to see. I told my two companions to go and watch at the chapel door and not to lose a moment. Then I said: "You see these few steps that lead to the cornice? I will ascend them. When I reach the I top I will open the door between and look down into the chapel. If all is quiet I will make a sign to you. You will come up in your turn and follow me along the cornice as far as the store room. Once there if the good God lets us reach there! you can rest. I will come and tell you when the soldiers are gone, and they are to leave .at daybreak. day-break. Do you quite understand?" I mounted the steps, opened the door and looked down. Stretched out almost on top of one another, their heads upon the sacks, lay the soldiers sol-diers asleep. Their black bodies seemed entangled entan-gled with the white stalls of the chapel. The light sound of their breathing was all there was to be heard. Their guns were piled in the corners. cor-ners. A ray of moonlight, coming from a window win-dow in the side, lighted one-half of the hall, while the other half remained in darkness. For-r For-r tunately the cornice was along this side. Straight 3 and narrow, it ran along the wall, about twenty feet above the soldiers' heads. At the other end, e like a black spot in the dimness was the door 1 of the storage room. To get there would re-s re-s quire some few seconds. But those few seconds seemed interminably long. At that moment, I was seized with a terrible misapprehension. The exaltation had all gone and I saw myself face to face with the horrible reality. A strong temptation held me to tell the Girondins that the passage was impossible, that the soldiers were awake and they must save themselves them-selves as quickly as possible. But then I felt ashamed, and turning toward the men, who were watching me from below, I signed to them to come up. They obeyed and soon the first was beside me. With a gesture, I told them to be silent si-lent as if they needed to be told that! Then I started along the cornice. What a passage! I shajl never forget it. I can feel myself, advancing advanc-ing on tip-toe, pressing the cold wall with my left hand, my right beating the empty air, fearless eveiy moment of losing my balance or striking some chance stone, whose fall would awaken the soldiers, sleeping so near us, just below and behind me I could feel the mute presence of these men who followed me, risking their lives with mine holding their breath, avoiding the least false step, the eyes of each fixed on the one ahead, their whole will turned toward the little door that grew larger in proportion as we drew nearer near-er and it was I, I who led them. At last, after some mortally long moments, l reached the door, I seized the key that remained in the key hole, turned it, I pushed open the door and then I thought everything was lost. For a long time the store room had not been used so that the door, as I opened it, squeaked plaintively and sounded all over the chapel, freezing freez-ing the marrow of my bones. "What's that?" grumbled one of the soldiers. I feic that oUr last moment had come, but, happily, hap-pily, there was a strong wind outsiae ana just at that moment a furious gust shook the very walls of the chapel. "Go to sleep, you big ass! It is only the wind," answered another, and in a moment, all was quiet again. The door was only half open, just enough to allow them to shy through. This they did, not, however, until the silence below was completely established. They followed me one after the other, oth-er, skillfully, for the most part, without needing to push open the door any wider, which would certainly have been our destruction. You cannot imagine the joy and the gratitude of these men, once they were all united in the storage room. They wept and even knelt and kissed the hem of my gown. They believed that I had saved them. Alas! the danger was still I'lfHH there, menacing and terrible. 3 ir sffM "Rest!" I said to them, "lie down here on the I'.stHH straw. You are comparatively safe and as soon 'kjjftjjH as they have gone you, too, can depart. Rest I'iH'lflH now, sleep, and rely on me if some new danger i. jfljH threatens you." k M I left them and went out througn tne half lt'laV open door, taking care to leave it so. Doubtless, t jj t!lB it would have been better to shut It tight, but tfS'H that was impossible on account of the noise. r ''li''B I returned like a mouse along the cornice, feel- f' jiH ing lighter and more skilful when alone. At .the mm H end of a few seconds I was back In our little room ! r& where the two women were awaiting me anxious- U 'j f JjH Each received me in a different manner. Mde. "h ' $H Marichal severe and dry, overwhelmed me with llu'lH cruel reproaches, but Mde. Badouillet, on the con- ilHH trary, stood up for me and approved of what I fMfM had done. But oh! how we longed ror the end of iftl 'ifH that interminable night. niJII To be continued.) ffvisifl |