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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 3, whole no. 7, Summer 1944
Page 3
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MORTE JAMBE T. BRUCE YERKE Monsieur Foucheraux was exceedingly careless one afternoon. The Rue de Marcassant is known as a most unpleasant crossing at the very least; leading in from the river, it opens into the Place de la Cresus, a narrow square, a blind box of rambling, eroded flats. The Place de la Cresus lies at the top of a narrow, inclined curve, the continuation of a bridge crossing the river from the modern city. The bridge is old and lime-encrusted; the road, a cobblestoned atrocity. M. Foucheraux paused in front of the apothecarie and exchanged a word or two with the loiterers outside. Then he pinched old bachelor cast a careless glance across the square, pulled nervously at the lapel of his black frock-coat, and, grasping his walking stick in hand, forged out across the cobblestones. He seemed quite oblivious to the roar of the omnibus which was at the moment clattering up the road from the bridge. The coachman was undoubtedly a reckless fellow, or one unfamiliar with the route, for he burst into the Place de la Cresus with four horses blowing froth and whip flaying furiously. Too late he saw the blind crossing. He shrieked an unintelligble oath and threw the brake, drawing reign desperately. The omnibus lurched and oscillated on its skidding, heavy wheels. Trunks and boxes on the roof teetered and bounded off, scattering intimate contents. M. Foucheraux seemed only gradually to become aware of this catastrophe bearing down upon him. The four horses bucked and were thrown in their whipple-trees. The coachman stood on his stepboard and threw his weight on the brake. The shrieking, rumbling cauldron of confusion staggered onto M. Foucheraux. The black figure was lost in the swirling dust and flying hoofs. The left front wheel passed over his thigh. Then the omnibus tottered in a cloud of dust and crashed to its side. The horses came down en masse and the coachman arched through the air and landed, most fortunately, in a bale of cotton goods by Madam Moull incourt's factory. "What a mess! What a mess!" mumbled and exclaimed the crowd that poured out of the formerly blank white-washed buildings. "Didy ou see that fool coachman?" the apothecarie attendant demanded as he stood on his counter to see over the milling throng outside. "He charged through the court like a corps of cassions running the Marne." In the midst of this confusion, M. Foucheraux lay prostrate, writing in agony with his right leg turned almost upon itself. He shook his walking stick in the air and his sharply pointed face was contorted in anger and shock. "Pig! Pig! Pig!" he kept shrieking. "Ignorant pig! Dunderheaded pig! Bloated, drunken lout of a pig! Because of the stupid pig I shall probably lose my leg! "Damme! Sacre Dieu! Where is a doctor? Am I to bleed in the streets like an ignominious slut?" He coughed and lapsed into a delirium, muttering "Pig! Pig! Pig!" The doctor fought his way to the felled figure in its pool of blood and commenced to attend to him. M. Foucheraux was removed to his apartment as soon as the doctor had tied the major arteries. An amputation was performed. The severed member was sent to the crematorie. --3--
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MORTE JAMBE T. BRUCE YERKE Monsieur Foucheraux was exceedingly careless one afternoon. The Rue de Marcassant is known as a most unpleasant crossing at the very least; leading in from the river, it opens into the Place de la Cresus, a narrow square, a blind box of rambling, eroded flats. The Place de la Cresus lies at the top of a narrow, inclined curve, the continuation of a bridge crossing the river from the modern city. The bridge is old and lime-encrusted; the road, a cobblestoned atrocity. M. Foucheraux paused in front of the apothecarie and exchanged a word or two with the loiterers outside. Then he pinched old bachelor cast a careless glance across the square, pulled nervously at the lapel of his black frock-coat, and, grasping his walking stick in hand, forged out across the cobblestones. He seemed quite oblivious to the roar of the omnibus which was at the moment clattering up the road from the bridge. The coachman was undoubtedly a reckless fellow, or one unfamiliar with the route, for he burst into the Place de la Cresus with four horses blowing froth and whip flaying furiously. Too late he saw the blind crossing. He shrieked an unintelligble oath and threw the brake, drawing reign desperately. The omnibus lurched and oscillated on its skidding, heavy wheels. Trunks and boxes on the roof teetered and bounded off, scattering intimate contents. M. Foucheraux seemed only gradually to become aware of this catastrophe bearing down upon him. The four horses bucked and were thrown in their whipple-trees. The coachman stood on his stepboard and threw his weight on the brake. The shrieking, rumbling cauldron of confusion staggered onto M. Foucheraux. The black figure was lost in the swirling dust and flying hoofs. The left front wheel passed over his thigh. Then the omnibus tottered in a cloud of dust and crashed to its side. The horses came down en masse and the coachman arched through the air and landed, most fortunately, in a bale of cotton goods by Madam Moull incourt's factory. "What a mess! What a mess!" mumbled and exclaimed the crowd that poured out of the formerly blank white-washed buildings. "Didy ou see that fool coachman?" the apothecarie attendant demanded as he stood on his counter to see over the milling throng outside. "He charged through the court like a corps of cassions running the Marne." In the midst of this confusion, M. Foucheraux lay prostrate, writing in agony with his right leg turned almost upon itself. He shook his walking stick in the air and his sharply pointed face was contorted in anger and shock. "Pig! Pig! Pig!" he kept shrieking. "Ignorant pig! Dunderheaded pig! Bloated, drunken lout of a pig! Because of the stupid pig I shall probably lose my leg! "Damme! Sacre Dieu! Where is a doctor? Am I to bleed in the streets like an ignominious slut?" He coughed and lapsed into a delirium, muttering "Pig! Pig! Pig!" The doctor fought his way to the felled figure in its pool of blood and commenced to attend to him. M. Foucheraux was removed to his apartment as soon as the doctor had tied the major arteries. An amputation was performed. The severed member was sent to the crematorie. --3--
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