The maids of Paradise a novel

LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OP
CALIFORNIA
SAN OIEQO

THE MAIDS OF
PARADISE

By

Robert W. Chambers

Author of " Cardigan " " The Conspirators '
"Maid-at-Arms " etc.

Illustrated

New York and London

Harper & Brothers

Publishers 1903

Copyright, 1902, by ROBERT W. CHAMBBRS^

Illustrations by ANDRE CASTAIGNE
Copyright, 1902, by P. F. COLLIER & SON.

All rights reserved.

Published September, 1903.

^^

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&MG)

P R E FA C E

AS far as the writer knows, no treasure-trains were
actually sent to the port of Lorient from the
arsenal at Brest. The treasures remained at Brest.

Concerning the German armored cruiser Augusta, the
following are the facts : About the middle of December
she forced the blockade at Wilhelmshafen and ran for
Ireland, where, owing to the complaisance of the British
authorities, she was permitted to coal.

From there she steamed towards Brest, capturing
a French merchant craft off that port, another near
Rochefort, and finally a third. That ended her active
career during the war; a French frigate chased her
into the port of Vigo and kept her there.

To conclude, certain localities and certain charac
ters have been sufficiently disguised to render recogni
tion improbable. This is proper because " The Lizard "
is possibly alive to-day, as are also the mayor of Para
dise, Sylvia Elven, Jacqueline, and Speed, the latter
having barely escaped death in the Virginius expedi
tion. The original of Buckhurst now lives in New York,
and remains a type whose rarity is its only recommen
dation.

Those who believe they recognize the Countess de
Vassart are doubtless in error. Mornac, long dead,

v

PREFACE

is safe in his disguise; Tric-Trac was executed on the
Place de la Roquette, and celebrated in doggerel by
an unspeakable ballad writer. There remains Scarlett ;
dead or alive, I wish him well.

ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.

ORMOND, FLORIDA, Feb. 7, 1902.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

I. AT THE TELEGRAPH • • « 3

II. THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES . . „ . 21

III. LA TRAPPE . . 34

IV. PRISONERS 50

V. THE IMMORTALS 65

VI. THE GAME BEGINS 87

VII. A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED no

VIII. A MAN TO LET 136

IX. THE ROAD TO PARADISE 159

X. THE TOWN-CRIER 171

XI. IN CAMP 180

XII. JACQUELINE 195

XIII. FRIENDS 207

XIV. THE PATH OF THE LIZARD 229

XV. FOREWARNED 253

XVI. A RESTLESS MAN 265

XVII. THE CIRCUS 280

XVIII. A GUEST-CHAMBER 303

XIX. TRECOURT GARDEN .........318

XX. THE SEMAPHORE 339

XXI. LIKE HER ANCESTORS 353

XXII. THE SECRET 381

vii

ILLUSTRATIONS

'LOOK THERE!' SHE CRIED, IN TERROR". . Frontispiece
'ACROSS THAT MEADOW,' SAID THE YOUNG

GIRL" Facing p. 22

'TO RIGHT AND LEFT, PRUSSIAN LANCERS WERE

RIDING" " 62

'A COMPANY OF TURCOS CAME UP " . . . . 74

"HALT! HALT!' HE SHOUTED" 84

'EVERY BRIDGE WAS GUARDED" .... 124

'SISTERS OF CHARITY WERE GIVING FIRST AID" " 132

'i WAS ON MY KNEES" " 298

PART FIRST

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

AT THE TELEGRAPH

ON the third day of August, 1870, I left Paris in
search of John Buckhurst.

On the 4th of August I lost all traces of Mr. Buck-
hurst near the frontier, in the village of Morsbronn.
The remainder of the day I spent in acquiring that
"general information" so dear to the officials in Paris
whose flimsy systems of intelligence had already be
gun to break down.

On August 5th, about eight o'clock in the morning,
the military telegraph instrument in the operator's
room over the temporary barracks of the Third Hus
sars clicked out the call for urgency, not the usual
military signal, but a secret sequence understood only
by certain officers of the Imperial Military Police. The
operator on duty therefore stepped into my room and
waited while I took his place at the wire.

1 had been using the code-book that morning, pre
paring despatches for Paris, and now, at the first
series of significant clicks, I dropped my left middle
finger on the key and repeated the signal to Paris,
using the required variations. Then I rose, locked the
door, and returned to the table.

3

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Who is this?" came over the wire in the secret
code; and I answered at once: "Inspector of Foreign
Division, Imperial Military Police, on duty at Mors-
bronn, Alsace."

After considerable delay the next message arrived
in the Morse code : " Is that you, Scarlett?"

And I replied : " Yes. Who are you? Why do
you not use the code? Repeat the code signal and
your number. "

The signal was repeated, then came the message :
" This is the Tuileries. You have my authority to
use the Morse code for the sake of brevity. Do you
understand? I am Jarras. The Empress is here."
Instantly reassured by the message from Colonel
Jarras, head of the bureau to which I was attached,
I answered that I understood. Then the telegrams be
gan to fly, all in the Morse code :

Jarras. " Have you caught Buckhurst?"

I. "No."

Jarras. " How did he get away?"

I. " There's confusion enough on the frontier to cov
er the escape of a hundred thieves."

Jarras. " Your reply alarms the Empress. State
briefly the present position of the First Corps."

7. " The First Corps still occupies the heights in a
straight line about seven kilometres long ; the plateau
is covered with vineyards. Two small rivers are in
front of us ; the Vosges are behind us ; the right flank
pivots on Morsbronn, the left on Neeh wilier ; the centre
covers Worth. We have had forty-eight hours' heavy
rain."

Jarras. " Where are the Germans?"

I. " Precise information not obtainable at headquar
ters of the First Corps."

Jarras. " Does the Marshal not know where the Ger
mans are?"

AT THE TELEGRAPH

/. " Marshal MacMahon does not know definitely."

J arras. " Does the Marshal not employ his cavalry?
Where are they?"

/. "Septeuil's cavalry of the second division lie be
tween Elsasshausen and the Grosser wald; Michel's
brigade of heavy cavalry camps at Eberbach; the
second division of cavalry of the reserve, General Vi-
comte de Bonnemain, should arrive to-night and go
into bivouac bet\yeen Reichshofen and the Grosser-
wald. ' '

There was a long pause ; I lighted a cigar and waited.
After a while the instrument began again:

J arras. " The Empress desires to know where the
chateau called La Trappe is."

I. "La Trappe is about four kilometres from Mors-
bronn, near the hamlet of Trois-Feuilles. "

J arras. " It is understood that Madame de Vassart's
group of socialists are about to leave La Trappe for
Paradise, in Morbihan. It is possible that Buckhurst
has taken refuge among them. Therefore you will
proceed to La Trappe. Do you understand?"

/. "Perfectly."

J arras. " If Buckhurst is found you will bring him
to Paris at once. Shoot him if he resists arrest. If
the community at La Trappe has not been warned of
a possible visit from us, you will find and arrest the
following individuals :

"Claude Tavernier, late professor of law, Paris
School of Law;

" Achille Bazard, ex-instructor in mathematics, Fon-
tainebleau Artillery School ;

"Dr. Leo Delmont, ex -interne, Charity Hospital,
Paris ;

" Mile. Sylvia Elven, lately of the Odeon ;

"The Countess de Vassart, well known for her
eccentricities.

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" You will affix the government seals to the house
as usual ; you will then escort the people named to
the nearest point on the Belgian frontier. The Coun
tess de Vassart usually dresses like a common peasant.
Look out that she does not slip through your fingers.
Repeat your instructions." 1 repeated them from my
memoranda.

There was a pause, then click ! click ! the instrument
gave the code signal that the matter was ended, and
I repeated the signal, opened my code-book, and began
to translate the instructions into cipher for safety's
sake.

When I had finished and had carefully destroyed
my first pencilled memoranda, the steady bumping
of artillery passing through the street under the win
dows drew my attention.

It proved to be the expected batteries of the reserve
going into park, between the two brigades of Raoult's
division of infantry. I telegraphed the news to the
observatory on the Col du Pigeonnier, then walked
back to the window and looked out.

It had begun to rain again ; down the solitary street
of Morsbronn the artillery rolled, jolting ; cannoneers,
wrapped in their wet, gray overcoats, limbers, caissons,
and horses plastered with mud. The slim cannon,
with canvas-wrapped breeches uptilted, dripped from
their depressed muzzles, like lank monsters slavering
and discouraged.

A battery of Montigny mitrailleuses passed, gro
tesque, hump -backed little engines of destruction.
To me there was always something repulsive in the
shape of these stunted cannon, these malicious metal
cripples with their heavy bodies and sinister, filthy
mouths.

Before the drenched artillery had rattled out of
Morsbronn the rain once more fell in floods, pouring

6

AT THE TELEGRAPH

a perpendicular torrent from the transparent, gray
heavens, and the roar of the downpour on slate roofs
and ancient gables drowned the pounding of the pass
ing cannon.

Where the Vosges mountains towered in obscurity a
curtain of rain joined earth and sky. The rivers ran
yellow, brimful, foaming at the fords. The sema
phore on the mountain of the Pigeonnier was not visi
ble ; but across the bridge, where the Gunstett high
way spanned the Sauer, gray masses of the Niederwald
loomed through the rain.

Somewhere in that spectral forest Prussian cavalry
were hidden, watching the heights where our drenched
divisions lay. Behind that forest a German army was
massing, fresh from the combat in the north, where
the tragedy of Wissembourg had been enacted only
the day before, in the presence of the entire French
army — the awful spectacle of a single division of seven
thousand men suddenly enveloped and crushed by
seventy thousand Germans.

The rain fell steadily but less heavily. I went back
to my instrument and called up the station on the
Col du Pigeonnier, asking for information, but got no
reply, the storm doubtless interfering.

Officers of the Third Hussars were continually tramp
ing up and down the muddy stairway, laughing, jok
ing, swearing at the rain, or shouting for their horses,
when the trumpets sounded in the street below.

I watched the departing squadron, splashing away
down the street, which was now running water like a
river; then I changed my civilian clothes for a hussar
uniform, sent a trooper to find me a horse, and sat
down by the window to stare at the downpour and
think how best I might carry out my instructions to
a successful finish.

The colony at La Trappe was, as far as I could judge,

7

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

a product of conditions which had, a hundred years
before, culminated in the French Revolution. Now,
in 1870, but under different circumstances, all France
was once more disintegrating socially. Opposition to
the Empire, to the dynasty, to the government, had
been seething for years; now the separate crystals
which formed on the edges of the boiling under-cur-
rents began to grow into masses which, adhering to
other masses, interfered with the healthy functions of
national life.

Until recently, however, while among the dissatisfied
there existed a certain tendency towards cohesion,
and while, moreover, adhesive forces mutually im
pelled separate groups of malcontents to closer union,
the government found nothing alarming in the men
aces of individuals or of isolated groups. The Emperor
always counted on such opposition in Paris; the pal
ace of the Tuileries was practically a besieged place,
menaced always by the faubourgs — a castle before
which lay eternally the sullen, unorganized multitude
over which the municipal police kept watch.

That opposition, hatred, and treason existed never
worried the government, but that this opposition
should remain unorganized occupied the authorities
constantly.

Groups of individuals who proclaimed themselves
devotees of social theories interested us only when
the groups grew large or exhibited tendencies to unite
with similar groups.

Clubs formed to discuss social questions were usu
ally watched by the police; violent organizations were
not observed very closely, but clubs founded upon mod
erate principles were always closely surveyed.

In the faubourgs, where every street had its bawling
orator, and where the red flag was waved when the
community had become sufficiently drunk, the gov-

8

AT THE TELEGRAPH

ernment was quietly content to ignore proceedings,
wisely understanding that the mouths of street ora
tors were the safety-valves of the faubourgs, and that
through them the ebullitions of the under-world escaped
with nothing more serious than a few vinous shrieks.
There were, however, certain secret and semi-secret
organizations which caused the government concern.
First among these came the International Society of
Workingmen, with all its affiliations — the " Internation
ale," as it was called. In its wake trailed minor so
cieties, some mild and harmless, some dangerous and
secret, some violent, advocating openly the destruction
of all existing conditions. Small groups of anarchists
had already attracted groups of moderate socialistic
tendencies to them, and had absorbed them or tainted
them with doctrines dangerous to the state.

In time these groups began to adhere even more
closely to the large bodies of the people; a party was
born, small at first, embodying conflicting communistic
principles.

The government watched it. Presently it split, as
do all parties; yet here the paradox was revealed of
a small party splitting into two larger halves. To
one of these halves adhered the Red Republicans,
the government opposition of the Extreme Left, the
Opportunists, the Anarchists, certain Socialists, the
so-called Communards, and finally the vast mass
of the sullen, teeming faubourgs. It became a party
closely affiliated with the Internationale, a colossal,
restless, unorganized menace, harmless only because
unorganized.

And the police were expected to keep it harmless.
The other remaining half of the original party began
to dwindle almost immediately, until it became only
a group. With one exception, all those whom the
police and the government regarded as inclined to

9

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

violence left the group. There remained, with this
one exception, a nucleus of earnest, thoughtful people
whose creed was in part the creed of the Internationale,
the creed of universal brotherhood, equality before
the law, purity of individual living as an example
and an incentive to a national purity.

To this inoffensive group came one day a young
widow, the Countess de Vassart, placing at their dis
posal her great wealth, asking only to be received
among them as a comrade.

Her history, as known to the police, was peculiar
and rather sad: at sixteen she had been betrothed
to an elderly, bull-necked colonel of cavalry, the no
torious Count de Vassart, who needed what money
she might bring him to maintain his reputation as
the most brilliantly dissolute old rake in Paris.

At sixteen, Eline de Tr6court was a thin, red-haired
girl, with rather large, grayish eyes. Speed and I saw
her once, sitting in her carriage before the Ministry
of War a year after her marriage. There had been
bad news from Mexico, and there were many handsome
equipages standing at the gates of the war office, where
lists of killed and wounded were posted every day.

I noticed her particularly because of her reputed
wealth and the evil reputation of her husband, who,
it was said, was so open in his contempt for her that
the very afternoon of their marriage he was seen pub
licly driving on the Champs-Elysees with a pretty and
popular actress of the Odeon.

As I passed, glancing up at her, the sadness of her
face impressed me, and I remember wondering how
much the death of her husband had to do with it — for
his name had appeared in the evening papers under
the heading, "Killed in Action."

It was several years later before the police began
to take an interest in the Comtesse Eline de Vassart.

10

AT THE TELEGRAPH

She had withdrawn entirely from society, had founded
a non-sectarian free school in Passy, was interested
in certain charities and refuges for young working-
girls, when on a visit to England, she met Karl Marx,
then a fugitive and under sentence of death.

From that moment social questions occupied her,
and her doings interested the police, especially when
she returned to Paris and took her place once more
in Royalist circles, where every baby was bred from
the cradle to renounce the Tuileries, the Emperor,
and all his works.

Serious, tender - hearted, charitable, and intensely
interested in all social reforms, she shocked the con
servative society of the noble faubourg, aroused the
distrust of the government, offended the Tuileries, and
finally committed the mistake of receiving at her own
house that notorious group of malcontents headed by
Henri Rochefort, whose revolutionary newspaper, La
Marseillaise, doubtless needed pecuniary support.

Her dossier — for, alas ! the young girl already had a
dossier — was interesting, particularly in its summing-
up of her personal character :

" To the naive ignorance of a convent pensionnaire,
she adds an innocence of mind, a purity of conduct,
and a credulity which render her an easy prey to the
adroit, who play upon her sympathies. She is dan
gerous only as a source of revenue for dangerous men."

It was from her salon that young Victor Noir went
to his death at Auteuil on the loth of January; and
possibly the shock of the murder and the almost uni
versal conviction that justice under the Empire was
hopeless drove the young Countess to seek a refuge
in the country where, at her house of La Trappe, she
could quietly devote her life to helping the desperately
wretched, and where she could, in security, hold council
with those who also had chosen to give their lives to

II

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

the noblest of all works — charity and the propaganda
of universal brotherhood.

And here, at La Trappe, the young aristocrat first
donned the robe of democracy, dedicated her life and
fortune to the cause, and worked with her own delicate
hands for every morsel of bread that passed her lips.

Now this was all very well while it lasted, for her
father, the choleric old Comte de Tr6court, had died
rich, and the young girl's charities were doubled,
and there was nobody to stay her hand or draw the
generous purse-strings ; nobody to advise her or to stop
her. On the contrary, there were plenty of people
standing around with outstretched, itching, and some
times dirty hands, ready to snatch at the last centime.

Who was there to administer her affairs, who among
the generous, impetuous, ill - balanced friends that
surrounded her? Not the noble-minded geographer,
Elisee R6clus; not the fiery citizen -count, Rochefort;
not the handsome, cultivated Gustave Flourens, al
ready " fey " with the doom to which he had been born ;
not that kindly visionary, the Vicomte de Coursay-
Delmont, now discarding his ancient title to be known
only among his grateful, penniless patients as Doctor
Delmont ; and surely not Professor Ta vernier, nor yet
that militant hermit, the young Chevalier de Gray,
calling himself plain Monsieur Bazard, who chose de
mocracy instead of the brilliant career to which Gram-
mont had destined him, and whose sensitive and per
haps diseased mind had never recovered from the
shock of the murder of his comrade, Victor Noir.

But the simple life at La Trappe, the negative pro
test against the Empire and all existing social con
ditions, the purity of motive, the serene and inspired
self-abnegation, could not save the colony at La Trappe
nor the young chatelaine from the claws of those who
prey upon the innocence of the generous.

T2

AT THE TELEGRAPH

And so came to this ideal community one John
Buckhurst, a stranger, quiet, suave, deadly pale, a
finely moulded man, with delicately fashioned hands
and feet, and two eyes so colorless that in some lights
they appeared to be almost sightless.

In a month from that time he was the power that
moved that community even in its most insignificant
machinery. With marvellous skill he constructed out
of that simple republic of protestants an absolute des
potism. And he was the despot.

The avowed object of the society was the advance
ment of universal brotherhood, of liberty and equality,
the annihilation of those arbitrary barriers called na
tional frontiers — in short, a society for the encourage
ment of the millennium, which, however, appeared to
be coy.

And before the eyes of his brother dreamers John
Buckhurst quietly cancelled the entire programme at
one stroke, and nobody understood that it was can
celled when, in a community founded upon equality
and fraternity, he raised another edifice to crown it,
a sort of working model as an example to the world,
but limited. And down went democracy without a
sound.

This working model was a superior community
which was established at the Breton home of the Coun
tess de Vassart, a large stone house in the hamlet of
Paradise, in Morbihan.

An intimation from the'Tuileries interrupted a meet
ing of the council at the house in Paradise ; an arrest
was threatened — that of Professor Reel us — and the
indignant young Countess was requested to retire to
her chateau of La Trappe. She obeyed, but invited
her guests to accompany her. Among those who ac
cepted was Buckhurst.

About this time the government began to take a

13

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

serious interest in John Buckhurst. On the secret
staff of the Imperial Military Police were always cer
tain foreigners — among others, myself and a young
man named James Speed; and Colonel Jarras had
already decided to employ us in watching Buckhurst,
when war came on France like a bolt from the blue,
giving the men of the Secret Service all they could at
tend to.

In the shameful indecision and confusion attending
the first few days after the declaration of war against
Prussia, Buckhurst slipped through our fingers, and
I, for one, did not expect to hear of him again. But
I did not begin to know John Buckhurst, for, within
three days after he had avoided an encounter with
us, Buckhurst was believed to have committed one
of the most celebrated crimes of the century.

The secret history of that unhappy war will never
be fully written. Prince Bismarck has let the only
remaining cat out of the bag ; the other cats are dead.
Nor will all the strange secrets of the Tuileries ever
be brought to light, fortunately.

Still, at this time, there is no reason why it should
not be generally known that the crown jewels of France
were menaced from the very first by a conspiracy so
alarming and apparently so irresistible that the Em
peror himself believed, even in the beginning of the
fatal campaign, that it might be necessary to send
the crown jewels of France to the Bank of England
for safety.

On the igth of July, the day that war was declared,
certain of the crown jewels, kept temporarily at the
palace of the Tuileries, were sent under heavy guards
to the Bank of France. Every precaution was taken ;
yet the great diamond crucifix of Louis XI. was missing
when the guard under Captain Siebert turned over the
treasures to the governor of the Bank of France.

14

AT THE TELEGRAPH

Instantly absolute secrecy was ordered, which I, for
one, believed to be a great mistake. Yet the Emperor
desired it, doubtless for the same reasons which al
ways led him to suppress any affair which might give
the public an idea that the opposition to the govern
ment was worthy of the government's attention.

So the news of the robbery never became public
property, but from one end of France to the other the
gendarmerie, the police, local, municipal, and secret,
were stirred up to activity.

Within forty-eight hours, an individual answering
Buckhurst 's description had sold a single enormous
diamond for two hundred and fifty thousand francs
to a dealer in Strasbourg, a Jew named Fishel Cohen,
who, counting on the excitement produced by the
war and the topsy-turvy condition of the city, sup
posed that such a transaction would create no interest.

Mr. Cohen was wrong ; an hour after he had recorded
the transaction at the Strasbourg Diamond Exchange
he and the diamond were on their way to Paris, in
charge of a detective. A few hours later the stone
was identified at the Tuileries as having been taken
from the famous crucifix of Louis XI.

From Fishel Cohen's agonized description of the
man who had sold him the diamond, Colonel Jarras
believed he recognized John Buckhurst. But how on
earth Buckhurst had obtained access to the jewels,
or how he had managed to spirit away the cross from
the very centre of the Tuileries, could only be explained
through the theory of accomplices among the trusted
intimates of the imperial entourage. And if there ex
isted such a conspiracy, who was involved?

It is violating no secret now to admit that every soul
in the Tuileries, from highest to lowest, was watched.
Even the governor of the Bank of France did not escape
the attentions of the secret police. For it was certain

15

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

that somebody in the imperial confidence had betrayed
that confidence in a shocking manner, and nobody
could know how far the conspiracy had spread, or who
was involved in the most daring and shameless rob
bery that had been perpetrated in France since Cardinal
de Rohan and his gang stole the celebrated necklace
of Marie Antoinette.

Nor was it at all certain that the remaining jewels
of the French crown were safe in Paris. The pre
cautions taken to insure their safety, and the result
of those precautions, are matters of history, but no
body outside of a small, strangely assorted company
of people could know what actually happened to the
crown jewels of France in 1870, or what pieces, if any,
are still missing.

My chase after Buckhurst began as soon as Colonel
Jarras could summon me; and as Buckhurst had last
been heard of in Strasbourg, I went after him on a
train loaded with red-legged, uproarious soldiers, who
sang all day :

" Have you seen Bismarck

Drinking in the gay cafe,
With that other brother spark —
Monsieur Badinguet?"

and had drunk themselves into a shameful frenzy
long before the train thundered into Avricourt.

I tracked Buckhurst to Morsbronn, where I lost all
traces of him; and now here I was with my orders
concerning the unfortunate people at La Trappe, star
ing out at the dismal weather and wondering where
my wild-goose chase would end.

I went to the door and called for the military telegraph
operator, whose instrument I had been permitted to
monopolize. He came, a pleasant, jaunty young fel
low, munching a crust of dry bread and brushing the
crumbs from his scarlet trousers.

16

AT THE TELEGRAPH

" In case I want to communicate with you I'll signal
the tower on the Col du Pigeonnier," I said. "Come
up to the loft overhead."

The loft in the house which had now been turned
into a cavalry barracks was just above my room, a
large attic under the dripping gables, black with the
stains of centuries, littered with broken furniture,
discarded clothing, and the odds and ends cherished
by the thrifty Alsatian peasant, who never throws
away anything from the day of his birth to the day
of his death. And, given a long line of forefathers
equally thrifty, and an ancient high-gabled house
where his ancestors first began collecting discarded
refuse, the attic of necessity was a marvel of litter
and decay, among which generations of pigeons had
built nests and raised countless broods of squealing
squabs.

Into this attic we climbed, edged our way toward
a high window out of which the leaded panes had
long since tumbled earthward, and finally stood to
gether, looking out over the mountains of the Alsatian
frontier.

The rain had ceased; behind the Col du Pigeonnier
sunshine fell through a rift in the watery clouds. It
touched the rushing river, shining on foaming fords
where our cavalry pickets were riding in the valley
mist.

Somewhere up in the vineyards behind us an in
fantry band was playing; away among the wet hills
to the left the strumming vibrations of wet drums
marked the arrival of a regiment from goodness knows
where; and presently we saw them, their gray over
coats and red trousers soaked almost black with rain,
rifles en bandouliere, trudging patiently up the muddy
slope above the town. Something in the plodding
steps of those wet little soldiers touched me. Bravely

17

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

their soaked drums battered away, bravely they dragged
their clumsy feet after them, brightly and gayly the
breaking sun touched their crimson forage-caps and
bayonets and the swords of mounted officers; but to
me they were only a pathetic troop of perplexed peas
ants, dragged out of the bosom of France to be huddled
and herded in a strange pasture, where death watched
them from the forest yonder, marking them for slaugh
ter with near-sighted Teutonic eyes.

A column of white cloud suddenly capped the rocks
on the vineyard above. Bang! and something came
whistling with a curious, bird-like cry over the village
of Morsbronn, flying far out across the valley: and
among the pines of the Prussian forest a point of flame
flashed, a distant explosion echoed.

Down in the street below us an old man came tottering
from his little shop, peering sideways up into the sky.

" II pleut, berger," called out the operator beside me,
in a bantering voice.

" It will rain — bullets/' said the old man, simply, and
returned to his shop to drag out a chair on the door-
sill and sit and listen to the shots which our cavalry
outposts were exchanging with the Prussian scouts.

"Poor old chap/' said the operator; "it will be hard
for him. He was with the Grand Emperor at Jena."

"You speak as though our army was already on
the run," I said.

"Yes," he replied, indifferently, "we'll soon be on
the run."

After a moment I said: "I'm going to ride to La
Trappe. I wish you would send those messages to
Paris."

" All right/' he said.

Half an hour later I rode out of Morsbronn, clad
in the uniform of the Third Hussars, a disguise sup
posed to convey the idea to those at La Trappe that

18

AT THE TELEGRAPH

the army and not the police were responsible for their
expulsion.

The warm August sunshine slanted in my face as I
galloped away up the vineyard road and out on to the
long plateau where, on every hillock, a hussar picket
sat his wiry horse, carbine poised, gazing steadily
toward the east.

Over the sombre Prussian forests mist hung; away
to the north the sun glittered on the steel helmets
and armor of the heavy cavalry, just arriving. And
pn the Col du Pigeonnier I saw tiny specks move,
flags signalling the arrival of the Vicomte de Bonne-
main with the "grosse cavalerie," the splendid cuiras
sier regiments destined in a few hours to join the cui
rassiers of Waterloo, riding into that bright Valhalla
where all good soldiers shall hear the last trumpet
call, "Dismount!"

With a lingering glance at the rivers which separated
us from German soil, I turned my horse and galloped
away into the hills.

A moist, fern - bordered wood road attracted me; I
reasoned that it must lead, by a short cut, across the
hills to the military highway which passed between
Trois-Feuilles and La Trappe. So I took it, and pres
ently came into four cross-roads unknown to me.

This grassy carrefour was occupied by a flock of
turkeys, busily engaged in catching grasshoppers;
their keeper, a prettily shaped peasant girl, looked
up at me as I drew bridle, then quietly resumed the
book she had been reading.

"My child/' said I, "if you are as intelligent as you
are beautiful, you will not be tending other people's
turkeys this time next year."

"Merci, beau sabreur!" said the turkey-girl, raising
her blue eyes. Then the lashes veiled them; she
bent her head a little, turning it so that the curve of

19

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

her cheeks gave io her profile that delicate contour
which is so suggestive of innocence when the ears
are small and the neck white.

"My child/' said I, "will you kindly direct me,
with appropriate gestures, to the military highway
which passes the Chateau de la Trappe?"

n

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

" HPHERE is a short cut across that meadow/' said

1 the young girl, raising a rounded, sun-tinted arm,
bare to the shoulder.

" You are very kind," said I, looking at her steadily.

" And, after that, you will come to a thicket of white
birches."

"Thank you, mademoiselle."

"And after that," she said, idly following with her
blue eyes the contour of her own lovely arm, "you
must turn to the left, and there you will cross a hill.
You can see it from where we stand — "

She glanced at me over her outstretched arm. " You
are not listening," she said.

I shifted a troubled gaze to the meadow which stretch
ed out all glittering with moist grasses and tufts of
rain-drenched wild flowers.

The girl's arm slowly fell to her side, she looked up
at me again, I felt her eyes on me for a moment, then
she turned her head toward the meadow.

A deadened report shook the summer air — the
sound of a cannon fired very far away, perhaps on
the citadel of Strasbourg. It was so distant, so in
distinct, that here in this peaceful country it lingered
only as a vibration; the humming of the clover bees
was louder.

Without turning my head I said : " It is difficult to

21

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

believe that there is war anywhere in the world — is it
not, mademoiselle?"

" Not if one knows the world/' she said, indifferently.

" Do you know it, my child?"

"Sufficiently," she said.

She had opened again the book which she had been
reading when I first noticed her. From my saddle
I saw that it was Moliere. I examined her, in detail,
from the tips of her small wooden shoes to the scarlet
velvet-banded skirt, then slowly upward, noting the
laced bodice of velvet, the bright hair under the butter
fly coiffe of Alsace, the delicate outline of nose and
brow and throat. The ensemble was theatrical.

" Why do you tend turkeys?" I asked.

"Because it pleases me," she replied, raising her
eyebrows in faint displeasure.

" For that same reason you read Monsieur Moliere?"
I suggested.

"Doubtless, monsieur."

" Who are you?"

"Is a passport required in France?" she replied,
languidly.

" Are you what you pretend to be, an Alsatian tur
key tender?"

" Parbleu! There are my turkeys, monsieur."

" Of course, and there is your peasant dress and
there are your wooden shoes, and there also, mademoi
selle, are your soft hands and your accented speech
and your plays of Moliere."

" You are very wise for a hussar," she said.

" Perhaps, " said I, " but I have asked you a question
which remains parried."

She balanced the hazel rod across her shoulders
with a faintly malicious smile.

" One might almost believe that you are not a hussar,
but an officer of the Imperial Police," she said.

22

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

"If you think that/' said I, "you should answer
my question the sooner — unless you come from La
Trappe. Do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Oh! And what do you do at the Chateau de la
Trappe?"

" I tend poultry — sometimes," she replied.

"And at other times?"

"I do other things, monsieur."

"What things?"

"What things? Mon Dieu, I read a little, as you
perceive, monsieur."

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Oh, a mere nobody in such learned company/'
she said, shaking her head with a mock humility
that annoyed me intensely.

" Very well," said I, conscious every moment of
her pleasure in my discomfiture; "under the circum
stances I am going to ask you to accept my escort to
La Trappe; for I think you are Mademoiselle Elven,
recently of the Odeon theatre."

At this her eyes widened and the smile on her face
became less genuine. " Indeed, I shall not go with
you," she said.

"I'm afraid I'll have to insist," said I.

She still balanced her hazel rod across her shoulders,
a smile curving her mouth.

"Monsieur," she said, "do you ride through the
world pressing every peasant girl you meet with such
ardent entreaties? Truly, your fashion of wooing is
not slow, but everybody knows that hussars are head
long gentlemen — 'Nothing is sacred from a hussar,"
she hummed, deliberately, in a parody which made me
writhe in my saddle.

"Mademoiselle," said I, taking off my forage-cap,
"your ridicule is not the most disagreeable incident

23

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

that I expect to meet with to-day. I am attempting
to do my duty, and I must ask you to do yours."

"By taking a walk with you, beau monsieur?"

"I'm afraid so."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then," said I, amiably, "I shall be obliged to
set you on my horse." And I dismounted and went
toward her.

"Set me on — on that horse?" she repeated, with a
disturbed smile.

" Will you come on foot, then?"

" No, I will not!" she said, with a click of her teeth.

I looked at my watch — it lacked five minutes to one.

" In five minutes we are going to start," said I, cheer
fully, and stood waiting, twisting the gilt hilt-tassels
of my sabre with nervous fingers.

After a silence she said, very seriously, " Monsieur,
would you dare use violence toward me?"

"Oh, I shall not be very violent," I replied, laugh
ing. I held the opened watch in my hand so that she
could see the dial if she chose.

" It is one o'clock," I said, closing the hunting-case
with a snap.

She looked me steadily in the eyes.

" Will you come with me to La Trappe?"

She did not stir.

I stepped toward her; she gave me a breathless,
defiant stare; then in an instant I caught her up and
swung her high into my saddle, before either she or
I knew exactly what had happened.

Fury flashed up in her eyes and was gone, leaving
them almost blank blue. As for me, amazed at what
I had done, I stood at her stirrup, breathing very fast,
with jaws set and chin squared.

She was clever enough not to try to dismount, woman
enough not to make an awkward struggle or do any-

24

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

thing ungraceful. In her face I read an immense
astonishment; fascination seemed to rivet her eyes
on me, following my every movement as I shortened
one stirrup for her, tightened the girths, and laid the
bridle in her half-opened hand.

Then, in silence, I led the horse forward through
the open gate out into the wet meadow.

Wading knee-deep through soaking foliage, I piloted
my horse with its mute burden across the fields ; and,
after a few minutes a violent desire to laugh seized
me and persisted, but I bit my lip and called up a few
remaining sentiments of decency.

As for my turkey-girl, she sat stiffly in the saddle,
with a firmness and determination that proved her
to be a stranger to horses. I scarcely dared look at
her, so fearful was I of laughing.

As we emerged from the meadow I heard the cannon
sounding again at a great distance, and this perhaps
sobered me, for presently all desire of laughter left
me, and I turned into the road which led through the
birch thicket, anxious to accomplish my mission and
have done with it as soon as might be.

" Are we near La Trappe?" I asked, respectfully.

Had she pouted, or sulked, or burst into reproaches,
I should have cared little — in fact, an outburst might
have relieved me.

But she answered me so sweetly, and, too, with
such composure, that my heart smote me for what I
had done to her and what I was still to do.

"Would you rather walk?" I asked, looking up at
her.

"No, thank you," she said, serenely.

So we went on. The spectacle of a cavalryman
in full uniform leading a cavalry horse on which was
seated an Alsatian girl in bright peasant costume
appeared to astonish the few people we passed. One

25

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

of these foot-farers, a priest who was travelling in
our direction, raised his pallid visage to meet my eyes.
Then he stole a glance at the girl in the saddle, and
I saw a tint of faded color settle under his transparent
skin.

The turkey-girl saluted the priest with a bright
smile.

" Fortune of war, father/' she said, gayly. " Behold !
Alsace in chains."

"Is she a prisoner?" said the priest, turning directly
on me. Of all the masks called faces, never had I
set eyes on such a deathly one, nor on such pale eyes,
all silvery surface without depth enough for a spark
of light to make them seem alive.

" What do you mean by a prisoner, father?" I asked.

"I mean a prisoner," he said, doggedly.

" When the church cross-examines the government,
the towers of Notre Dame shake," I said, pleasantly.
" I mean no discourtesy, father ; it is a proverb in Paris."

"There is another proverb," observed the turkey-
girl, placidly. "Once a little inhabitant of hell stole
the key to paradise. His punishment was dreadful.
They locked him in."

I looked up at her, perplexed and irritated, conscious
that she was ridiculing me, but unable to comprehend
just how. And my irritation increased when the priest
said, calmly, "Can I aid you, my child?"

She shook her head with a cool smile.

" I am quite safe under the escort of an officer of the
Imperial — "

"Wait!" I said, hastily, but she continued, "of the
Imperial Military Police."

Above all things I had not wanted it known that
the Imperial Police were moving in this affair at La
Trappe, and now this little fool had babbled to a strange
priest — of all people in the world!

26

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

" What have the police to do with this harmless
child?" demanded the priest, turning on me so sudden
ly that I involuntarily took a step backward.

"Is this the confessional, father?" I replied, sharply.
"Go your way in peace, and leave to the police what
alone concerns the police."

" Render unto Caesar," said the girl, quietly. " Good
bye, father."

Turning to look again at the priest, I was amazed
to find him close to me, too close for a man with such
eyes in his head, for a man who moved so swiftly and
softly, and, in spite of me, a nervous movement of
my hand left me with my fingers on the butt of my
pistol.

" What the devil is all this?" I blurted out. " Stand
aside, father. Do you think the Holy Inquisition is
back in France? Stand aside then! I salute your
cloth!"

And I passed on ahead, one hand on the horse's
neck, the other touching the visor of my scarlet forage
cap. Once I looked back. The priest was standing
where I had passed him.

We met a dozen people in all, I think, some of them
peasants, one or two of the better class — a country
doctor and a notary among them. None appeared to
know my turkey-girl, nor did she even glance at them ;
moreover, all answered my inquiries civilly enough,
directing me to La Trappe, and professing ignorance
as to its inhabitants.

"Why do all the people I meet carry bundles?" I
demanded of the notary.

" Mon Dieu, monsieur, they are too near the frontier
to take risks," he replied, blinking through his silver-
rimmed spectacles at my turkey-girl.

" You mean to say they are running away from
their village of Trois-Feuilles?" I asked.

27

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Exactly," he said. "War is a rude guest for
poor folk."

Disgusted with the cowardice of the hamlet of Trois-
Feuilles, I passed on without noticing the man's sneer.
In a moment, however, he repassed me swiftly, go
ing in the same direction as were we, toward La
Trappe.

" Wait a bit!" I called out. " What is your business
in that direction, monsieur the notary?"

He looked around, muttered indistinctly about hav
ing forgotten something, and started on ahead of us,
but at a sharp "Stop!" from me he halted quickly
enough.

v" Your road lies the other way," I observed, and, as
he began to protest, I cut him short.

"You change your direction too quickly to suit me,"
I said. " Come, my friend the weather-cock, turn your
nose east and follow it or I may ask you some ques
tions that might frighten you."

And so I left him also staring after us, and I had
half a mind to go back and examine his portfolio to
see what a snipe-faced notary might be carrying about
with him.

When I looked up at my turkey-girl, she was sitting
more easily in the saddle, head bent thoughtfully.

"You see, mademoiselle, I take no chances of not
finding my friends at home," I said.

"What friends, monsieur?"

"My friends at La Trappe."

"Oh! And . . . you think that the notary we
passed might have desired to prepare them for your
visit, monsieur?"

"Possibly. The notary of Trois-Feuilles and the
Chateau de la Trappe may not be unknown to each
other. Perhaps even mademoiselle the turkey-girl
may number the learned Trappists among her friends."

28

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

" Perhaps/' she said.

Walking on along the muddy road beside her, arm
resting on my horse's neck, I thought over again of
the chances of catching Buckhurst, and they seemed
slim, especially as after my visit the house at La
Trappe would be vacant and the colony scattered, or
at least out of French jurisdiction, and probably set
tled across the Belgian frontier.

Of course, if the government ordered the expulsion
of these people, the people must go ; but I for one found
the order a foolish one, because it removed a bait that
might attract Buckhurst back where we stood a chance
of trapping him.

But in a foreign country he could visit his friends
freely, and whatever movement he might ultimately
contemplate against the French government could
easily be directed from that paradise of anarchists,
Belgium, without the necessity of his exposing him
self to any considerable danger.

I was sorry that affairs had taken this turn.

A little breeze began blowing; the scarlet skirt of
my turkey-girl fluttered above her wooden shoes, and
on her head the silk bow quivered like a butterfly on
a golden blossom.

"They say when the Lord fashioned the first maid
of Alsace half the angels cried themselves ill with
jealousy," said I, looking up at her.

"And the other half, monsieur?"

" The sterner half started for Alsace in a body. They
were controlled with difficulty, mademoiselle. That
is why St. Peter was given a key to lock them in, not
to lock us poor devils out."

After a silence she said, musing : " It is a curious:
thing, but you speak as though you had seen better
days."

"No," I said, "I have never seen better days. I

29

am slowly rising in the world. Last year I was a
lieutenant; I am now inspector."

"I meant/' she said, scornfully, "that you had been
well-born — a gentleman."

"Are gentlemen scarce in the Imperial Military
Police?"

"It is not a profession that honors a man."

" Of all people in the world," said I, " the police would
be the most gratified to believe that this violent world
needs no police."

"Monsieur, there is another remedy for violence."

"And what may that remedy be, mademoiselle?"

"Non-resistance — absolute non-resistance," said the
girl, earnestly, bending her pretty head toward me.

"That is not human nature," I said, laughing.

"Is the justification of human nature our aim in
this world?"

" Nor is it possible for mankind to submit to violence,"
I added.

"I believe otherwise," she said, gravely.

As we mounted the hill along a sandy road, bordered
with pines and with cool, green thickets of broom and
gorse, I looked up at her and said : " In spite of your
theories, mademoiselle, you yourself refused to accom
pany me."

" But I did not resist your violence," she replied,
smiling.

After a moment's silence I said : " For a disciple of
a stern and colorless creed, you are very human. I am
sorry that you believe it necessary to reform the world."

She said, thoughtfully: "There is nothing joyless
in my creed — above all, nothing stern. If it be fanat
icism to desire for all the world that liberty of thought
and speech ajid deed which I, for one, have assumed,
then I am, perhaps, a fanatic. If it be fanaticism to
detest violence and to deplore all resistance to violence,

30

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

I am a very guilty woman, monsieur, and deserve ill
of the Emperor's Military Police."

This she said with that faintly ironical smile hover
ing sometimes in her eyes, sometimes on her lips, so
that it was hard to face her and feel quite comfortable.

I began, finally, an elaborate and logical argument,
forgetting that women reason only with their hearts,
and she listened courteously. To meet her eyes when
I was speaking interrupted my train of thought, and
often I was constrained to look out across the hills at
the heavy, solid flanks of the mountains, which seemed
to steady my logic and bring rebellious thought and
wandering wisdom to obedience.

I explained my theory of the acceptance of. three
things — human nature, the past, and the present.
Given these, the solution of future problems must be
a different solution from that which she proposed.

At moments the solemn absurdity of it all came
over me — the turkey-girl, with her golden head bent,
her butterfly coiffe a-flutter, discussing ethics with an
irresponsible fly-by-night, who happened at that period
of his career to carry a commission in the Imperial
Police.

The lazy road-side butterflies flew up in clouds be
fore the slow-stepping horse; the hill rabbits, rising
to their hind-quarters, wrinkled their whiskered noses
at us; from every thicket speckled hedge-birds peered
at us as we went our way solemnly deciding those
eternal questions already ancient when the Talmud
branded woman with the name of Lilith.

At length, as we reached the summit of the sandy
hill, "There is La Trappe, monsieur," said my turkey-
girl, and once more stretched out her lovely arm.

There appeared to be nothing mysterious about the
house or its surroundings ; indeed, a sunnier and more
peaceful spot would be hard to find in that land of

31

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

hills, ravines, and rocky woodlands, outposts of those
cloudy summits soaring skyward in the south.

The house itself was visible through gates of wrought
iron, swinging wide between pillars of stone, where
an avenue stretched away under trees to a granite
terrace, glittering in the sun. And under the terrace
a quiet pool lay reflecting tier on tier of stone steps
which mounted to the bright esplanade above.

There was no porter at the gate to welcome me or
to warn me back; the wet road lay straight in front,
barred only by sunbeams.

"May we enter?" I asked, politely.

She did not answer, and I led the horse down that
silent avenue of trees towards the terrace and the
glassy pool which mirrored the steps of stone.

Masses of scarlet geraniums, beds of living coals,
glowed above the terrace. As we drew nearer, the
water caught the blaze of color, reflecting the splendor
in subdued tints of smothered flame. And always,
in the pool, I saw the terrace steps, reversed, leading
down into depths of sombre fire.

"And here we dismount," said I, and offered my
aid.

She laid her hands on my shoulders; I swung her
to the ground, where her sabots clicked and her silver
neck-chains jingled in the silence.

I looked around. How intensely still was everything
— the leaves, the water! The silent blue peaks on the
horizon seemed to be watching me; the trees around
me were so motionless that they also appeared to be
listening with every leaf.

This quarter of the world was too noiseless for me;
there might have been a bird-note, a breeze to whisper,
a minute stirring of unseen life — but there was not.

"Is that house empty?" I asked, turning brusquely
on my companion.

THE GOVERNMENT INTERFERES

" The Countess de Vassart will give you your an
swer/' she replied.

"Kindly announce me, then/' I said, grimly, and
together we mounted the broad flight of steps to the
esplanade, above which rose the gray mansion of
La Trappe.
a

Ill

LA TRAPPE

THERE was a small company of people gathered
at a table which stood in the cool shadows of the
chateau's eastern wing. Towards these people my
companion directed her steps; I saw her bend close
to the ear of a young girl who had already turned to
look at me. At the same instant a heavily built, hand
some man pushed back his chair and stood up, re
garding me steadily through his spectacles, one hand
grasping the back of the seat from which he had
risen.

Presently the young girl to whom my companion of
the morning had whispered rose gracefully and came
toward me.

Slender, yet with that charming outline of body
which youth wears as a promise, she moved across
the terrace in her flowing robe of crape, and welcomed
me with a gesture and a pleasant word, which I scarcely
heard, so stupidly I stood, silenced by the absolute
loveliness of the girl. Did I say loveliness? No,
not that, but something newer, something far more
fresh, far sweeter, that made mere physical beauty
a thing less vital than the colorless shadow of a crystal.

She was not only beautiful, she was Beauty itself,
incarnate, alive, soul and body. Later I noticed that
she was badly sunburned under the eyes, that her deli
cate nose was adorned by an adorable freckle, and that

34

LA TRAPPE

she had red hair. . . . Could this be the Countess de
Vassart? What a change!

I stepped forward to meet her, and took off my forage
cap.

"Is it true, monsieur, that you have come to arrest
us?" she asked, in a low voice.

" Yes, madame," I replied, already knowing that she
was the Countess. She hesitated ; then :

"Will you tell me your name? I am Madame de
Vassart."

Cap in hand I followed her to the table, where the
company had already risen. The young Countess
presented me with undisturbed simplicity ; I bowed to
my turkey-girl, who proved, after all, to be the actress
from the Odeon, Sylvia Elven; then I solemnly shook
hands with Dr. Leo Delmont, Professor Claude Taver-
nier, and Monsieur Bazard, ex-instructor at the Fon-
tainebleau Artillery School, whom I immediately rec
ognized as the snipe-faced notary I had met on the
road.

" Well, sir/' exclaimed Dr. Delmont, in his deep,
hearty voice, "if this peaceful little community is
come under your government's suspicion, I can only
say, Heaven help France!"

" Is not that what we all say in these times, doctor?"
I asked.

" When I say ' Heaven help France ! ' I do not mean
Vive rEmpereur!'" retorted the big doctor, dryly.

Professor Ta vernier, a little, gray -headed savant
with used-up eyes, asked me mildly if he might know
why they all were to be expelled from France. I did
not reply.

"Is thought no longer free in France?" asked Dr.
Delmont, in his heavy voice.

"Thought is free in France," I replied, "but its
expression is sometimes inadvisable, doctor."

35

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" And the Emperor is to be the judge of when it is
advisable to express one's thoughts?" inquired Pro
fessor Tavernier.

" The Emperor," I said, " is generous, broad-minded,
and wonderfully tolerant. Only those whose attitude
incites to disorder are held in check."

"According to the holy Code Napoleon," observed
Professor Tavernier, with a shrug.

"The code kills the body, Napoleon the soul," said
Dr. Delmont, gravely.

"It was otherwise with Victor Noir," suggested
Mademoiselle Elven.

" Yes," added Delmont, " he asked for justice and
they gave him . . . Pierre!"

" I think we are becoming discourteous to our guest,
gentlemen," said the young Countess, gently.

I bowed to her. After a moment I said: "Doctor,
if you do truly believe in that universal brotherhood
which apparently even tolerates within its boundaries
a poor devil of the Imperial Police, if your creed really
means peace and not violence, suffering and patience,
not provocation and revolt, demonstrate to the govern
ment by the example of your submission to its decrees
that the theories you entertain are not the chimeras
of generous but unbalanced minds."

" We never had the faintest idea of resisting," said
Monsieur Bazard, the notary, otherwise the Chevalier
de Grey, a lank, hollow-eyed young fellow, already
marked heavily with the ravages of pulmonary disease.
But the fierce glitter in his eyes gave the lie to his words.

"Yesterday, Madame la Comtesse," I said, turning
to the Countess de Vassart, " the Emperor could easily
afford to regard with equanimity the movement in
which you are associated. To - day that is no longer
possible."

The young Countess gave me a bewildered look.

36

LA TRAPPE

"Is it true," she asked, "that the Emperor does
not know we have severed all connection with the
I nternationale ?"

"If that is so," said I, "why does Monsieur Bazard
return across the fields to warn you of my coming?
And why do you harbor John Buckhurst at La Trappe?
Do you not know he is wanted by the police?"

" But we do not know why," said Dr. Delmont, bend
ing forward and pouring himself a glass of red wine.
This he drank slowly, eating a bit of black bread with it.

"Monsieur Scarlett," said Mademoiselle Elven, sud
denly, " why does the government want John Buck-
hurst?"

"That, mademoiselle, is the affair of the govern
ment and of John Buckhurst," I said.

"Pardon," interrupted Delmont, heavily, "it is the
affair of every honest man and woman — where a Bona
parte is concerned."

"I do not understand you, doctor," I said.

"Then I will put it brutally," he replied. "We
free people fear a family a prince of which is a common
murderer."

I did not answer; the world has long since judged
the slayer of Victor Noir.

After a troubled silence the Countess asked me if
I would not share their repast, and I thanked her and
took some bread and grapes and a glass of red wine.

The sun had stolen into the corner where we had
been sitting, and the Countess suggested that we
move down to the lawn under the trees ; so Dr. Delmont
and Professor Tavernier lifted the table and bore it
down the terrace steps, while I carried the chairs to
the lawn.

It made me uncomfortable to play the r61e I was
playing among these misguided but harmless people;
that I showed it in my face is certain, for the Countess

37

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

looked up at me and said, smilingly : " You must
not look at us so sorrowfully, Monsieur Scarlett. It
is we who pity you."

And I replied, "Madame, you are generous," and
took my place among them and ate and drank with
them in silence, listening to the breeze in the elms.

Mademoiselle Elven, in her peasant's dress, rested
her pretty arm across her chair and sighed.

" It is all very well not to resist violence," she said,
" but it seems to me that the world is going to run over
us some day. Is there any harm in stepping out of
the way, Dr. Delmont?"

The Countess laughed outright.

" Not at all," she said. " But we must not attempt
to box the world's ears as we run. Must we, doctor?"

Turning her lovely, sun-burned face to me, she con
tinued: "Is it not charming here? The quiet is
absolute. It is always still. We are absurdly con
tented here; we have no servants, you see, and we all
plough and harrow and sow and reap — not many
acres, because we need little. It is one kind of life,
quite harmless and passionless, monsieur. I have
been raking hay this morning. It is so strange that
the Emperor should be troubled by the silence of these
quiet fields — "

The distress in her eyes lasted only a moment; she
turned and looked out across the green meadows,
smiling to herself.

"At first when I came here from Paris," she said,
" I was at a loss to know what to do with all this land.
I owe much happiness to Dr. Delmont, who suggested
that the estate, except what we needed, might be loaned
free to the people around us. It was an admirable
thought; we have no longer any poor among us — "

She stopped short and gave me a quick glance.
"Please understand me, Monsieur Scarlett. I make

38

LA TRAPPE

no merit of giving what I cannot use. That would
be absurd."

" The world knows, madame, that you have given
all you have/' I said.

" Then why is your miserable government sending
her into exile?" broke in Monsieur Bazard, harshly.

"I will tell you," I said, surprised at his tone and
manner. " The colony at La Trappe is the head and
centre of a party which abhors war, which refuses
resistance, which aims, peacefully perhaps, at political
and social annihilation. In time of peace this colony
is not a menace; in time of war it is worse than a
menace, monsieur."

I turned to Dr. Delmont.

" With the German armies massing behind the forest
borders yonder, it is unsafe for the government to leave
you here at La Trappe, doctor. You are too neutral."

"You mean that the government fears treason?" de
manded the doctor, growing red.

"Yes," I said, "if you insist."

The Countess had turned to me in amazement.

"Treason!" she repeated, in an unsteady voice.
"Is it treason for a small community to live quietly
here in the Alsatian hills, harming nobody, asking
nothing save freedom of thought? Is it treason for
a woman of the world to renounce the world? Is it
treason for her to live an unostentatious life and use
her fortune to aid others to live? Treason! Monsieur,
the word has an ugly ring to me. I am a soldier's
daughter!"

There was something touchingly illogical in the
last words — this young apostle of peace naively dis
playing her credentials as though the mere word
" soldier " covered everything.

" Your government insults us all," said Bazard, be
tween his teeth.

39

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Mademoiselle Elven leaned forward, her blue eyes
shining angrily

"Because I have learned that the boundaries of na
tions are not the frontiers of human hearts, am I a
traitor? Because I know no country but the world,
no speech but the universal speech that one reads in
a brother's eyes, because I know no barriers, no boun
daries, no limits to human brotherhood, am I a traitor?"

She made an exquisite gesture with half -open arms ;
all the poetry of the Theatre Francais was in it.

" Look at me ! I had all that life could give, save
freedom, and that I have now — freedom in thought,
in speech, in action, freedom to love as friends love,
freedom to love as lovers love. Ah, more! freedom
from caste, from hate and envy and all suspicion,
freedom to give, freedom to receive, freedom in life
and in death! Am I a traitor? What do I betray?
Shame on your Emperor!"

The young Countess, too, had risen in her earnest
ness and had laid one slender, sun-tanned hand upon
the table.

" War?" she said. " What is this war to us? The
Emperor? What is he to us? We who have set a
watch on the world's outer ramparts, guarding the
white banner of universal brotherhood! What is
this war to us!"

"Are you not a native of France?" I asked, bluntly.

"I am a native of the world, monsieur."

"Do you mean to say that you care nothing for
your own birthland?" I demanded, sharply.

"I love the world — all of it — every inch — and if
France is part of the world, so is this Prussia that we
are teaching our poor peasants to hate."

"Madame," said I, "the women of France to-day
think differently. Our Creator did not make love
of country a trite virtue, but a passion, and set it in

40

LA TRAPPE

our bodies along with our other passions. If in you
it is absent, that concerns pathology, not the police!"

I did not mean to wound her — I was intensely in
earnest; I wanted her to show just a single glimmer
of sympathy for her own country. It seemed as though
I could not endure to look at such a woman and know
that the primal passion, born with those who had at
least wept for their natal Eden, was meaningless to her.

She had turned a trifle pale; now she sank back
into her chair, looking at me with those troubled gray
eyes in which Heaven itself had set truth and loyalty.

I said: "I do not believe that you care nothing
for France. Train and curb and crush your own
heart as you will, you cannot drive out that splendid
earth-born humanity which is part of us — else we had
all been born in heaven!"

" Come," said Bazard, in a rage-choked voice, " let it
end here, Monsieur Scarlett. If the government sends
you here as a spy and an official, pray remember that
you are not also sent as a missionary."

My ears began to burn. " That is true," I said, look
ing at the Countess, whose face had become expres
sionless. "I ask your pardon for what I have said
and . . . for what I am about to do."

There was a silence. Then, in a low voice, I placed
them under formal arrest, one by one, touching each
lightly on the shoulder as prescribed by the code.
And when I came to the Countess, she rose, without
embarrassment. I moved my lips and stretched out
my arm, barely touching her. I heard Bazard draw
a deep breath. She was my prisoner.

"I must ask you to prepare for a journey," I said.
"You have your own horses, of course?"

Without answering, Dr. Delmont walked away tow
ards the stables; Professor Ta vernier followed him,
head bent.

41

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"We shall want very little," said the Countess,
calmly, to Mademoiselle Elven. " Will you pack up
what we need? And you, Monsieur Bazard, will
you be good enough to go to Trois-Feuilles and hire
old Brauer's carriage?" Turning to me she said: "I
must ask for a little delay; I have no longer a car
riage of my own. We keep two horses to plough and
draw grain ; they can be harnessed to the farm- wagon
for our effects."

Monsieur Bazard's hectic visage flushed, he gave
me a crazy stare, and, for a moment, I fancied there
was murder in his bright eyes. Doubtless, however,
devotion to his creed of non-resistance conquered the
impulse, and he walked quickly away across the
meadows, his skeleton hands clinched under his loose
sleeves.

Mademoiselle Elven also departed tip-tap! up the
terrace in her coquettish wooden shoes, leaving me
alone with the Countess under the trees.

"Madame," said I, "before I affix the government
seals to the doors of your house I must ask you to
conduct me to the roof of the east wing."

She bent her head in acquiescence; I followed her
up the terrace into a stone hall where the dark Flemish
pictures stared back at me and my spurred heels jingled
in the silence. Up, up, and still up, winding around a
Gothic spiral, then through a passage under the battle
ments and out across the slates, with wind and setting
sun in my face and the sighing tree-tops far below.

Without glancing at me the Countess walked to
the edge of the leads and looked down along the sheer
declivity of the stone fagade. Slender, exquisite, she
stood there, a lonely shape against the sky, and I saw
the sun glowing on her burnished red-gold hair, and
her sun-burned hands, half unclosed, hanging at her
side.

42

LA TRAPPE

South, north, and west the mountains towered,
purple as the bloom on October grapes; the white arm
of the semaphore on the Pigeonnier was tinted with
rose color; green velvet clothed the world, under a
silver veil.

In the north a spark of white fire began to flicker
on the crest of Mount Tonnerre. It was the mirror
of a heliograph flashing out across leagues of gray-
green hills to the rocky pulpit of the Pigeonnier.

I unslung my glasses and levelled them. The
shining arm of the semaphore fell to a horizontal posi
tion and remained rigid; down came the signal flags,
up went a red globe and two cones. Another string of
flags blossomed along the bellying halliards; the white
star flashed twice on Mount Tonnerre and went out. .

Instantly I drew a flag from my pouch, tied it to
the point of my sabre, and stepped out along the pro
jecting snout of a gargoyle. Below, under my feet,
the tree-tops rustled in the wind.

I had been flagging the Pigeonnier vigorously for
ten minutes without result, when suddenly a dark
dot appeared on the tower beneath the semaphore,
then another. My glasses brought out two officers,
one with a flag ; and, still watching them through the
binoculars, I signalled slowly, using my free hand:
" This is La Trappe. Telegraph to Morsbronn that
the inspector of Imperial Police requires a peloton of
mounted gendarmes at once."

Then I sat down on the sun-warmed slates and
waited, amusing myself by watching the ever-chang
ing display of signal flags on the distant observatory.

It may have been half a minute before I saw two
officers advance to the railing of the tower and signal :
"Attention, La Trappe!"

Pencil and pad on my knee, I managed to use my
field-glasses and jot down the message:

43

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Peloton of mounted gendarmes goes to you as
soon as possible. Repeat."

I repeated, then raised my glasses. Another mes
sage came by flag: "Attention, La Trappe. Uhlans
reported near the village of Trois-Feuilles ; have you
seen them?"

Prussian Uhlans! Here in the rear of our entire
army! Nonsense! And I signalled a vigorous:

"No. Have you?"

To which came the disturbing reply : " Be on your
guard. We are ordered to display the semaphore at
danger. Report is credited at headquarters. Re
peat."

I repeated. Raising my glasses again, I ^could
plainly see a young officer, an unlighted cigar be
tween his teeth, jotting down our correspondence,
while the other officer who had flagged me furled up
his flags and laid them aside, yawning and stretching
himself to his full height.

So distinctly did my powerful binoculars bring the
station into range that I could even see the younger
officer light a match, which the wind extinguished,
light another, and presently blow a tiny cloud of smoke
from his cigar.

The Countess de Vassart had come up to where I
was standing on the gargoyle, balanced over the gulf
below. Very cautiously I began to step backward,
for there was not room to turn around.

" Would you care to look at the Pigeonnier, madame?"
I asked, glancing at her over my shoulder.

" I beg you will be careful," she said. " It is a use
less risk to stand out there."

I had never known the dread of great heights which
many people feel, and I laughed and stepped back
ward, expecting to land on the parapet behind me.
But the point of my scabbard struck against the battle-

44

LA TRAPPE

merits, forcing me outward; I stumbled, staggered,
and swayed a moment, striving desperately to recover
my balance; I felt my gloved fingers slipping along
the smooth face of the parapet, my knees gave way
with horror; then my fingers clutched something —
an arm — and I swung back, slap against the parapet,
hanging to that arm with all my weight. A terrible
effort and I planted my boots on the leads and looked
up with sick eyes into the eyes of the Countess.

"Can you stand it?" I groaned, clutching her arm
with my other hand.

"Yes — don't be afraid/' she said, calmly. "Draw
me toward you; I cannot draw you over."

"Press your knees against the battlements," I
gasped.

She bent one knee and wedged it into a niche.

"Don't be afraid; you are not hurting me," she
said, with a ghastly smile.

I raised one hand and caught her shoulder, then,
drawn forward, I seized the parapet in both arms, and
vaulted to the slate roof.

A fog seemed to blot my eyes; I shook from hair to
heel and laid my head against the solid stone, while
the blank, throbbing seconds past. The Countess
stood there, shocked and breathless. I saw her sleeve
in rags, and the snowy skin all bruised beneath.

I tried to thank her ; we both were badly shaken, and
I do not know that she even heard me. Her burnished
hair had sagged to her white neck; she twisted it up
with unsteady fingers and turned away. I followed
slowly, back through the dim galleries, and presently
she seemed to remember my presence and waited for
me as I felt my way along the passage.

"Every little shadow is a yawning gulf," I said.
"My nerve is gone, madame. The banging of my
own sabre scares me."

45

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

I strove to speak lightly, but my voice trembled,
and so did hers when she said : " High places always
terrify me; something below seems to draw me. Did
you ever have that dreadful impulse to sway forward
into a precipice?"

There was a subtle change in her voice and manner,
something almost friendly in her gray eyes as she
looked curiously at me when we came into the half-
light of an inner gallery.

What irony lurks in blind chance that I should owe
this woman my life — this woman whose home I had
come to confiscate, whose friends I had arrested, who
herself was now my prisoner, destined to the shame of
exile !

Perhaps she divined my thoughts — I do not know
— but she turned her troubled eyes to the arched win
dow, where a painted saint imbedded in golden glass
knelt and beat his breast with two heavy stones.

"Madame," I said, slowly, "your courage and your
goodness to me have made my task a heavy one. Can
I lighten it for you in any manner?"

She turned towards me, almost timidly. "Could
I go to Morsbronn before — before I cross the frontier?
I have a house there; there are a few things I would
like to take—"

She stopped short, seeing, doubtless, the pain of re
fusal in my face. " But, after all, it does not matter.
I suppose your orders are formal?"

"Yes, madame."

"Then it is a matter of honor?"

"A soldier is always on his honor; a soldier's
daughter will understand that."

"I understand," she said.

After a moment she smiled and moved forward,
saying :

"How the world tosses us — flinging strangers into

46

LA TRAPPE

each other's arms, parting brothers, leading enemies
across each other's paths ! One has a glimpse of kindly
eyes — and never meets them again. Often and often
I have seen a good face in the lamp-lit street that I
could call out to, 'Be friends with me!' Then it is
gone — and I am gone — Oh, it is curiously sad, Mon
sieur Scarlett!"

" Does your creed teach you to care for everybody,
madame?"

" Yes — I try to. Some attract me so strongly — some
I pity so. I think that if people only knew that there
was no such thing as a stranger in the world, the world
might be a paradise in time."

"It might be, some day, if all the world were as
good as you, madame."

" Oh, I am only a perplexed woman," she said, laugh
ing. "I do so long for the freedom of all the world,
absolute individual liberty and no law but that best
of all laws — the law of the unselfish."

We had stopped, by a mutual impulse, at the head
of the stone stairway.

"Why do you shelter such a man as John Buck-
hurst?" I asked, abruptly.

She raised her eyes to me with perfect composure.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I have come here from Paris to arrest
him."

She bent her head thoughtfully and laid the tips of
her fingers on the sculptured balustrade.

"To me," she said, "there's no such thing as a
political crime."

"It is not for a political crime that we want John
Buckhurst," I said, watching her. "It is for a civil
outrage."

Her face was like marble; her hands tightened on
the fretted carving.

47

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" What crime is he charged with?" she asked, without
moving.

"He is charged with being a common thief/' I said.

Now there was color enough in her face, and to
spare, for the blood-stained neck and cheek, and even
the bare shoulder under the torn crape burned pink.

"It is brutal to make such a charge!" she said.
"It is shameful! — " her voice quivered. "It is not
true! Monsieur, give me your word of honor that the
government means what it says and nothing more!"

" Madame," I said, " I give my word of honor that
no political crime is charged against that man."

" Will you pledge me your honor that if he answers
satisfactorily to that false charge of theft, the govern
ment will let him go free?"

"I will take it upon myself to do so," said I. " But
what in Heaven's name is this man to you, madame?
He is a militant anarchist, whose creed is not yours,
whose propaganda teaches merciless violence, whose
programme is terror. He is well known in the fau
bourgs ; Belleville is his, and in the Chateau Rouge he
has pointed across the river to the rich quarters, calling
it the promised land! Yet here, at La Trappe, where
your creed is peace and non-resistance, he is welcomed
and harbored, he is deferred to, he is made executive
head of a free commune which he has turned into a
despotism . . . for his own ends!"

She was gazing at me with dilated eyes, hands
holding tight to the balustrade.

"Did you not know that?" I asked, astonished.

"No/' she said.

"You are not aware that John Buckhurst is the
soul and centre of the Belleville Reds?"

"It is — it is false!" she stammered.

"No, madame, it is true. He wears a smug mask
here; he has deceived you all."

48

LA TRAPPE

She stood there, breathing rapidly, her head high.

"John Buckhurst will answer for himself/' she said,
steadily.

"When, madame?"

For answer she stepped across the hall and laid one
hand against the blank stone wall. Then, reaching
upward, she drew from between the ponderous blocks
little strips of steel, colored like mortar, dropping them
to the stone floor, where they rang out. When she had
flung away the last one, she stepped back and set her
frail shoulder to the wall; instantly a mass of stone
swung silently on an unseen pivot, a yellow light
streamed out, and there was a tiny chamber, illumi
nated by a lamp, and a man just rising from his chair.

IV

PRISONERS

T NSTANTLY I recognized in him the insolent priest
1 who had confronted me on my way to La Trappe that
morning. I knew him, although now he was wearing
neither robe nor shovel-hat, nor those square shoes too
large to buckle closely over his flat insteps.

And he knew me.

He appeared admirably cool and composed, glancing
at the Countess for an instant with an interrogative
expression; then he acknowledged my presence by
bowing almost humorously.

" This is Monsieur Scarlett, of the Imperial Military
Police," said the Countess, in a clear voice, ending
with that slightly rising inflection which demands an
answer.

"Mr. Buckhurst," I said, "I am an Inspector of
Military Police, and I cannot begin to tell you what a
pleasure this meeting is to me."

"I have no doubt of that, monsieur," said Buck-
hurst, in his smooth, almost caressing tones. "It,
however, inconveniences me a great deal to cross the
frontier to-day, even in your company, otherwise I
should have surrendered with my confreres."

" But there is no question of your crossing the fron
tier, Mr. Buckhurst," I said.

His colorless eyes sought mine, then dropped. They
were almost stone white in the lamplight — white as
his delicately chiselled face and hands.

50

PRISONERS

"Are we not to be exiled?" he asked.

" You are not," I said.

"Am I not under arrest?"

I stepped forward and placed him formally under
arrest, touching him slightly on the shoulder. He
did not move a muscle, yet, beneath the thin cloth of
his coat I could divine a frame of iron.

"Your creed is one of non-resistance to violence,"
I said— "is it not?"

"Yes," he replied. I saw that gray ring around
the pale pupil of his eyes contracting, little by little.

"You have not asked me why I arrest you," I sug
gested, "and, monsieur, I must ask you to step back
from that table — quick! — don't move! — not one fin
ger!"

For a second he looked into the barrel of my pistol
with concentrated composure, then glanced at the
table-drawer which he had jerked open. A revolver
lay shining among the litter of glass tubes and papers
in the drawer.

The Countess, too, saw the revolver and turned an
astonished face to my prisoner.

"Who brought you here?" asked Buckhurst, quietly
of me.

"I did," said the Countess, her voice almost break
ing. " Tell this man and his government that you are
ready to face every charge against your honor! There
is a dreadful mistake ; they — they think you are — "

" A thief," I interposed, with a smile. " The govern
ment only asks you to prove that you are not."

Slowly Buckhurst turned his eyes on the Countess;
the faintest glimmer of white teeth showed for an in
stant between the gray lines that were his lips.

"So you brought this man here?" he said. "Oh,
I am glad to know it."

"Then you cannot be that same John Buckhurst

51

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

who stands in the tribune of the Chateau Rouge and
promises all Paris to his chosen people/' I remarked,
smiling.

"No," he said, slowly, "I cannot be that man, nor
can I—"

"Stop! Stand back from that table!" I cried.

"I beg your pardon," he said, coolly.

"Madame," said I, without taking my eyes from
him, "in a community dedicated to peace, a revolver
is an anachronism. So I think — if you move I will
shoot you, Mr. Buckhurst! — so I think I had better
take it, table-drawer and all — "

"Stop!" said Buckhurst.

"Oh no, I can't stop now," said I, cheerfully, "and
if you attempt to upset that lamp you will make a sad
mistake. Now walk to the door! Turn your back!
Go slowly!— halt!"

With the table-drawer under one arm and my pistol-
hand swinging, I followed Buckhurst out into the hall.

Daylight dazzled me; it must have affected Buck
hurst, too, for he reached out to the stone balustrade
and guided himself down the steps, five paces in front
of me.

Under the trees on the lawn, beside the driveway,
I saw Dr. Delmont standing, big, bushy head bent
thoughtfully, hands clasped behind his back.

Near him, Tavernier and Bazard were lifting a few
boxes into a farm-wagon. The carriage from Trois-
Feuilles was also there, a stumpy Alsatian peasant
on the box. But there were yet no signs of the escort
of gendarmes which had been promised me.

As Buckhurst appeared, w-alking all alone ahead
of me, Dr. Delmont looked up with a bitter laugh.
"So they found you, too? Well, Buckhurst, this is
too bad. They might have given you one more day
on your experiments."

52

PRISONERS

"What experiments?" I asked, glancing at the bot
tles and retorts in the table-drawer.

"Nitrogen for exhausted soil/' .said the Countess,
quietly.

I set the table-drawer on the grass, rested my pistol
on my hip, and looked around at my prisoners, who
now were looking intently at me.

"Gentlemen," said I, "let me warn you not to claim
comradeship with Mr. Buckhurst. And I will show you
one reason why."

I picked up from the table-drawer a little stick about
five inches long and held it up.

" What is that, doctor? You don't know? Oh, you
think it might be some sample of fertilizer containing
concentrated nitrogen? You are mistaken, it is not
nitrogen, but nitro-glycerine. "

Buckhurst 's face changed slightly.

"Is it not, Mr. Buckhurst?" I asked.

He was silent.

" Would you permit me to throw this bit of stuff at
your feet?" And I made a gesture.

The superb nerve of the man was something to
remember. He did not move, but over his face there
crept a dreadful pallor, which even the others noticed,
and they shrank away from him, shocked and amazed.

"Here, gentlemen," I continued, "is a box with
a German label — 'Oberlohe, Hanover/ The silicious
earth with which nitro-glycerine is mixed to make
dynamite comes from Oberlohe, in Hanover/'

I laid my pistol on the table, struck a match, and
deliberately lighted my stick of dynamite. It burned
quietly with a brilliant flame, and I laid it on the grass
and let it burn out like a lump of Greek fire.

"Messieurs," I said, cocking and uncocking my
pistol, "it is not because this man is a dangerous,
political criminal and a maker of explosives that the

53

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

government has sent me here to arrest him ... or
kill him. It is because he is a common thief, ... a
thief who steals crucifixes, . . . like this one — "

I brushed aside a pile of papers in the drawer and
drew out a big gold crucifix, marvellously chiselled
from a lump of the solid metal. ... "A thief," I con
tinued, "who strips the diamonds from crucifixes,
... as this has been stripped, . . . and who sells
a single stone to a Jew in Strasbourg, named Fishel
Cohen, . . . now in prison to confront our friend Buck-
hurst."

In the dead silence I heard Dr. Delmont's heavy
breathing. Tavernier gave a dry sob and covered
his face with his thin hands. The young Countess
stood motionless, frightfully white, staring at Buck-
hurst, who had folded his arms.

Sylvia Elven touched her, but the Countess shook
her off and walked straight to Buckhurst.

" Look at me," she said. " I have promised you
my friendship, my faith and trust and support. And
now I say to you, I believe in you. Tell them where
that crucifix came from."

Buckhurst looked at me, long enough to see that
the end of his rope had come. Then he slowly turned
his deadly eyes on the girl before him.

Scarlet to the roots of her hair, she stood there, utterly
stunned. The white edges of Buckhurst 's teeth began
to show again ; for an instant I thought he meant to
strike her. Then the sudden double beat of horses'
hoofs broke out along the avenue below, and, through
the red sunset I saw a dozen horsemen come scampering
up the drive toward us.

"They've sent me lancers instead of gendarmes
for your escort," I remarked to Dr. Delmont; at the
same moment I stepped out into the driveway to sig
nal the riders, raising my hand.

54

PRISONERS

Instantly a pistol flashed — then another and an
other, and a dozen harsh voices shouted: "Hourra!
Hourra! Preussen!"

"Mille tonnerre!" roared Delmont; "the Prussians
are here!"

"Look out! Stand back there! Get the women
back!" I cried, as an Uhlan wheeled hi's horse straight
through a bed of geraniums and fired his horse-pistol
at me.

Delmont dragged the young Countess to the shelter
of an elm ; Sylvia Elven and Ta vernier followed ; Buck-
hurst ran to the carriage and leaped in.

"No resistance!" bellowed Delmont, as Bazard
snatched up the pistol I had taken from Buckhurst.
But the invalid had already fired at a horseman, and
had gone down under the merciless hoofs with a lance
through his face.

My first impulse was to shoot Buckhurst, and I
started for him.

Then, in front of me, a horse galloped into the table
and fell with a crash, hurling his rider at my feet. I
can see him yet sprawling there on the lawn, a lank,
red-faced fellow, his helmet smashed in, and his spurred
boots sticking fast in the sod.

Helter-skelter through the trees came the rest of
the Uhlans, shouting their hoarse " Hourra ! Hourra !
Preussen!" — white-and-black pennons streaming from
their lance-heads, pistols flashing in the early dusk.

I ran past Bazard 's trampled body and fired at an
Uhlan who had seized the horses which were attached
to the carriage where Buckhurst sat. The Uhlan's
horse reared and plunged, carrying him away at a
frightful pace, and I do not know whether I hit him
or not, but he dropped his pistol, and I picked it up and
fired at another cavalryman who shouted and put
his horse straight at me.

55

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Again I ran around the wagon, through a clump of
syringa bushes, and up the stone steps to the terrace,
and after me galloped one of those incomparable cos-
sack riders — an Uhlan, lance in rest, setting his wiry
little horse to the stone steps with a loud " Hourra!"

It was too steep a grade for the gallant horse. I flung
my pistol in the animal's face and the poor brute reared
straight up and fell backward, rolling over and over
with his unfortunate rider, and falling with a tremen
dous splash into the pool below.

"In God's name stop that!" roared Delmont, from
below. " Give up, Scarlett! They mean us no harm!"

I could see the good doctor on the lawn, waving his
handkerchief frantically at me; in a group behind
stood the Countess and Sylvia ; Tavernier was kneeling
beside Bazard's body; two Uhlans were raising their
stunned comrade from the wreck of the table; other
Uhlans cantered toward the foot of the terrace above
which I stood.

"Come down, hussar!" called an officer. "We re
spect your uniform."

"Will you parley?" I asked, listening intently for
the gallop of my promised gendarmes. If I could
only gain time and save Buckhurst. He was there
in the carriage; I had seen him spring into it when
the Germans burst in among the trees.

"Foulez-fous fous rendre? Oui ou non?" shouted
the officer, in his terrible French.

"Ehbien, . . . non!" I cried, and ran for the chateau.

I heard the Uhlans dismount and run clattering and
jingling up the stone steps. As I gained the doorway
they shot at me, but I only fled the faster, springing
up the stairway. Here I stood, sabre in hand, ready
to stop the first man.

Up the stairs rushed three Uhlans, sabres shining
in the dim light from the window behind me; I laid

56

PRISONERS

my forefinger flat on the blade of my sabre and
shortened my arm for a thrust — then there came a
blinding flash, a roar, and I was down, trying to rise,
until a clinched fist struck me in the face and I fell
flat on my back.

Without any emotion whatever I saw an Uhlan
raise his sabre to finish me; also I saw a yellow-and-
black sleeve interposed between death and myself.

"No butchery!" growled the big officer who had
summoned me from the lawn. "Cursed pig, you'd
sabre your own grandmother! Lift him, Sepp! You,
there, Loisel! — lift him up. Is he gone?"

" He is alive, Herr Rittmeister," said a soldier, but
his back is broken."

" It isn't," I said.

" Herr Je!" muttered the Rittmeister; "an eel, and a
Frenchman, and nine long lives! Here, you hussar,
what's the matter with you?"

" One of them shot me ; I thought it was to be sabres,"
said I, weakly.

"And why the devil wasn't it sabres!" roared the
officer, turning on his men. "One to three — and
six more below! Sepp, you disgust me. Carry him
out!"

I groaned as they lifted me. " Easy there!" growled
the officer, " don't pull him that way. Now, young
hell-cat, set your teeth; you have eight more lives
yet."

They got me out to the terrace, and carried me to
the lawn. One of the men brought a cup of water
from the pool.

" Herr Rittmeister," I said, faintly, " I had a prisoner
here; he should be in the carriage. Is he?"

The officer walked briskly over to the carriage.
"Nobody here but two women and a scared peasant!"
he called out.

57

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

As I lay still staring up into the sky, I heard the
Rittmeister addressing Dr. Delmont in angry tones.
"By every law of civilized war I ought to hang you
and your friend there! Civilians who fire on troops
are treated that way. But I won't. Your foolish
companion lies yonder with a lance through his mouth.
He's dead; I say nothing. For you, I have no re
spect. But I have for that hell-cat \vho did his duty.
You civilians — you go to the devil!"

"Are not your prisoners sacred from insult?" asked
the doctor, angrily.

" Prisoners ! My prisoners ! You compliment your
self ! Loisel! Send those impudent civilians into the
house! I won't look at them! They make me sick!"

The astonished doctor attempted to take his stand
by me, offering his services, but the troopers hustled
him and poor Tavernier off up the terrace steps.

" The two ladies in the carriage, Herr Rittmeister?"
said a cavalryman, coming up at salute.

"What? Ladies? Oh yes." Then he muttered
in his mustache : " Always around — always every
where. They can't stay there. I want that carriage.
Sepp!"

"At orders, Herr Rittmeister!"

"Carry that gentleman to the carriage. Place
Schwartz and Ruppert in the wagon yonder. Got
straw — you, Brauer, bring straw — and toss in those
boxes, if there is room. Where's Hofman?"

"In the pool, Herr Rittmeister."

" Take him out/' said the officer, soberly. " Uhlans
don't abandon their dead."

Two soldiers lifted me again and bore me away in
the darkness. I was perfectly conscious.

And all the while I was listening for the gallop of
my gendarmes, not that I cared very much, now that
Buckhurst was gone.

58

PRISONERS

"Herr Rittmeister," I said, as they laid me in the
carriage, "ask the Countess de Vassart if she will
let me say good-bye to her."

"With pleasure," said the officer, promptly.
" Madame, here is a polite young gentleman who
desires to make his adieux. Permit me, madame —
he is here in the dark. Sepp! fall back! Loisel, ad
vance ten paces! Halt!"

"Is it you, Monsieur Scarlett?" came an unsteady
voice, from the darkness.

"Yes, madame. Can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you? My poor friend, I have nothing to
forgive. Are you badly hurt, Monsieur Scarlett?"

"I don't know," I muttered.

Suddenly the chapel bell of La Trappe rang out a
startling peal ; the Prussian captain snouted : " Stop
that bell! Shoot every civilian in the house!" But
the Uhlans, who rushed up the terrace, found the
great doors bolted and the lower windows screened
with steel shutters.

On the battlements of the south wing a red radiance
grew brighter; somebody had thrown wTood into the
iron basket of the ancient beacon, and set fire to it."

"That teaches me a lesson!" bawled the enraged
Rittmeister, shaking his fist up at the brightening
alarm signal.

He vaulted into his saddle, wheeled his horse and
rode up to the peasant, Brauer, who, frightened to the
verge of stupidity, sat on the carriage-box.

" Do you know the wood-road that leads to Gunstett
through the foot-hills?" he demanded, controlling
his fury with a strong effort.

The blank face of the peasant was answer enough;
the Rittmeister glared around; his eyes fell on the
Countess.

"You know this country, madame?"

59

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Yes, monsieur."

" Will you set us on our way through the Gunstett
hill-road?"

"No."

The chapel bell was clanging wildly; the beacon
shot up in a whirling column of sparks and red smoke.

"Put that woman into the carriage!" bellowed the
officer. "I'm cursed if I leave her to set the whole
country yapping at our heels! Loisel, put her in
beside the prisoner! Madame, it is useless to resist.
Hark! What's that sound of galloping?"

I listened. I heard nothing save the clamor of the
chapel bell.

An Uhlan laid a heavy hand on the shoulder of
the listening Countess ; she tried to draw back, but he
pushed her brutally into the carriage, and she stumbled
and fell into the cushions beside me.

"Uhlans, into your saddles!" cried the Rittmeister,
sharply. " Two men to the wagon ! — a man on the box
there! Here you, Jacques Bonhomme, drive carefully
or I'll hang you higher than the Strasbourg clock.
Are the wounded in the straw? Sepp, take the rider
less horses. Peloton, attention ! Draw sabres! March!
Trot!"

Fever had already begun to turn my head ; the jolting
of the carriage brought me to my senses at times;
at times, too, I could hear the two wounded Uhlans
groaning in the wagon behind me, the t tramping of
the cavalry ahead, the dull rattle of lance butts in the
leather stirrup-boots.

If I could only have fainted, but I could not, and
the agony grew so intense that I bit my lip through
to choke the scream that strained my throat.

Once the carriage stopped; in the darkness I heard
somebody whisper: "There go the French riders!"
And I fancied I heard a far echo of hoof-strokes along

60

PRISONERS

the road to La Trappe. It might have been the fancy
of an intermittent delirium; it may have bsen my
delayed gendarmes — I never knew. And the carriage
presently moved on more smoothly, as though we
were now on one of those even military high-roads
which traverse France from Luxembourg to the sea.

Which way we were going I did not know, I did
not care. Absurdly mingled with sick fancies came
flashes of reason, when I could see the sky frosted with
silver, and little, bluish stars peeping down. At times
I recognized the mounted men around me as Prussian
Uhlans, and weakly wondered by what deviltry they
had got into France, and what malignant spell they
cast over the land that the very stones did not rise up
and smite them from their yellow-and-black saddles.

Once — it was, I think, very near daybreak — I came
out of a dream in which I was swimming through
oceans of water, drinking as I swam. The carriage
had stopped ; I could not see the lancers, but presently
I heard them all talking in loud, angry voices. There
appeared to be some houses near by; I heard a dog
barking, a great outcry of pigs and feathered fowls,
the noise of a scuffle, a trampling of heavy boots, a
shot!

Then the terrible voice of the Rittmeister: "Hang
that man to his barn gate! Pig of an assassin, I'll
teach you to murder German soldiers!"

A woman began to scream without ceasing.

"Burn thai house!" bellowed the Rittmeister.

Through the prolonged screaming I heard the crash
of window-glass; presently a dull red light grew out
of the gloom, brighter and brighter. The screaming
never ceased.

"Uhlans! Mount!" came the steady voice of the
Rittmeister; the carriage started. Almost at the word
the darkness ^turned to flame; against the raging

61

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

furnace of a house on fire I saw the figure of a man,
inky black, hanging from the high cross-bar of the
cow-yard gate, and past him filed the shadowy horse
men, lances slanting backward from their stirrups.

The last I remember was seeing the dead man's
naked feet — for they hanged him in his night-shirt —
and the last I heard was that awful screaming from
the red shadows that flickered across the fields of uncut
wheat.

For presently my madness began again, and again
I was bathed to the mouth in cold, sweet waters, and
I drank as I swam lazily in the sunshine.

My next lucid interval came from pain almost un
endurable. We were fording a river in bright star
light; the carriage bumped across the stones, water
washed and slopped over the carriage floor. To right
and left, Prussian lancers were riding, and I saw the
water boiling under their horses and their long lances
aslant the stars.

But there were more horsemen now, scores and
scores of them, trampling through the shallow river.
And beyond I could see a line of cannon, wallowing
through the water, shadowy artillerymen clinging
to forge and caisson, mounted men astride straining
teams, tall officers on either flank, sitting their horses
motionless in mid-stream.

The carriage stopped.

"Are you suffering?" came a low voice, close to my
ear.

"Madame, could I have a little of that water?" I
muttered.

Very gently she laid me back. I was entirely with
out power to move below my waist, or to support my
body.

She filled my cap with river water and held it while
I drank. After I had my fill she bathed my face,

62

PRISONERS

passing her wet hands through my hair and over my
eyes. The carriage moved on.

After a while she whispered.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes, madame."

" See the dawn — how red it is on the hills ! There
are vineyards there on the heights, . . . and a castle,
. . . and soldiers moving out across the river mead
ows."

The rising sun was shining in my eyes as we came
to a halt before a small stone bridge over which a col
umn of cavalry was passing — Prussian hussars, by
their crimson dolmans and little, flat busbies.

Our Uhlan escort grouped themselves about us to
watch the hussars defile at a trot, and I saw the Ritt-
meister rigidly saluting their standards as they bobbed
past above a thicket of sabres.

"What are these Uhlans doing?" broke in a nasal
voice behind us; an officer, followed by two orderlies
and a trumpeter, came galloping up through the mud.

"Who's that — a dead Frenchman?" demanded the
officer, leaning over the edge of the carriage to give
me a near-sighted stare. Then he saw the Countess,
vstared at her, and touched the golden peak of his helmet.

" At your service, madame," he said. " Is this offi
cer dead?"

"Dying, general," said the Rittmeister, at salute.

"Then he will not require these men. Herr Ritt
meister, I take your Uhlans for my escort. Madame,
you have my sympathy; can I be of service?"

He spoke perfect French. The Countess looked up
at him in a bewildered way. "You cannot mean to
abandon this dying man here?" she asked.

There was a silence, broken brusquely by the Ritt
meister. "That Frenchman did his duty!"

"Did he?" said the general, staring at the Countess.

63

THE 'MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Very well; I want that carriage, but I won't take it.
Give the driver a white flag, and have him drive into
the French lines. Herr Rittmeister, give your orders!
Madame, your most devoted!" And he wheeled his
beautiful horse and trotted off down the road, while
the Rittmeister hastily tied a handkerchief to a stick
and tossed it up to the speechless peasant on the box.

"Morsbronn is the nearest French post!" he said,
in French. Then he bent from his horse and looked
down at me.

" You did your duty!" he snapped, and, barely salut
ing the Countess, touched spurs to -his mount and dis
appeared, followed at a gallop by his mud -splashed
Uhlans.

THE IMMORTALS

WHEN I became conscious again I was lying on
a table. Two men were leaning over me ; a third
came up, holding a basin. There was an odor of car
bolic in the air.

The man with the basin made a horrid grimace
when he caught my eye ; his face was a curious golden
yellow, his eyes jet black, and at first I took him for
a fever phantom.

Then my bewildered eyes fastened on his scarlet
fez, pulled down over his left ear, the sky-blue Zouave
jacket, with its bright-yellow arabesques, the canvas
breeches, leggings laced close over the thin shins and
ankles of an Arab. And I knew him for a soldier of
African riflemen, one of those brave children of the
desert whom we called "Turcos," and whose faith
in the greatness of France has never faltered since
the first blue battalion of Africa was formed under
the eagles of the First Empire.

" Hallo, Mustapha!" I said, faintly; " what are they
doing to me now?"

The Turco's golden-bronze visage relaxed ; he saluted
me.

"Macache sabir/' he said; "they picked a bullet
from your spine, my inspector."

An officer in the uniform of a staff-surgeon came
around the table where I was lying.

65

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" Bon!" he exclaimed, eying me sharply through his
gold-rimmed glasses. "Can you feel your hind -legs
now, young man?"

I could feel them all too intensely, and I said so.

The surgeon began to turn down his shirt-sleeves
and button his cuffs, saying, "You're lucky to have
a pain in your legs." Turning to the Turco, he added,
" Lift him!" And the giant rifleman picked me up and
laid me in a long chair by the window.

"Your case is one of those amusing cases," con
tinued the surgeon, buckling on his sword and revol
ver; " very amusing, I assure you. As for the bullet, I
could have turned it out with a straw, only it rested
there exactly where it stopped the use of those long
legs of yours ! — a fine example of temporary reflex
paralysis, and no hemorrhage to speak of — nothing
to swear about, young man. By-the-way, you ought
to go to bed for a few days."

He clasped his short baldric over his smartly buttoned
tunic. The room was shaking with the discharges 01
cannon.

"A millimetre farther and that bullet would have
cracked your spine. Remember that and keep off
your feet. Ouf! The cannon are tuning up!" as a
terrible discharge shattered the glass in the window-
panes beside me.

" Where am I, doctor?" I asked.

"Parbleu, in Morsbronn! Can't you hear the or
chestra, zim-bam-zim! The Prussians are playing
their Wagner music for us. Here, swallow this. How
do you feel now?"

" Sleepy. Did you say a day or two, doctor?"

"I said a week or two — perhaps longer. I'll look
in this evening if I'm not up to my chin in amputations.
Take these every hour if in pain. Go to sleep, my son. "

With a paternal tap on my head., he drew on his
66

THE IMMORTALS

scarlet, gold-banded cap, tightened the check strap,
and walked out of the room. Down -stairs I heard
him cursing because his horse had been shot. I never
saw him again.

Dozing feverishly, hearing the cannon through
troubled slumber, I awoke toward noon quite free
from any considerable pain, but thirsty and restless,
and numbed to the hips. Alarmed, I strove to move
my feet, and succeeded. Then, freed from the haunt
ing terror of paralysis, I fell to pinching my legs with
satisfaction, my eyes roving about in search of water.

The room where I lay was in disorder; it appeared
to be completely furnished with well-made old pieces,
long out of date, but not old enough to be desirable.
Chairs, sofas, tables were all fashioned in that poor
design which marked the early period of the Consulate ;
the mirror was a fine sheet of glass imbedded in
Pompeian and Egyptian designs ; the clock, which had
stopped, was a meaningless lump of gilt and marble,
supported on gilt sphinxes. Over the bed hung a
tarnished canopy broidered with a coronet, which, from
the strawberry leaves and the pearls raised above them,
I took to be the coronet of a count of English origin.

The room appeared to be very old, and I knew the
house must have stood for centuries somewhere along
the single street of Morsbronn, though I could not
remember seeing any building in the village which,
judging from the exterior, seemed likely to contain
such a room as this.

The nearer and heavier cannon-shots had ceased, but
the window-sashes hummed with the steady thunder
of a battle going on somewhere among the mountains.
Knowing the Alsatian frontier fairly well, I understood
that a battle among the mountains must mean that
our First Corps had been attacked, and that we were
on the defensive on French soil.

67

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The booming of the guns was unbroken, as stead y
and sustained as the eternal roar of a cataract. At
moments I believed that I could distinguish the staccato
crashes of platoon firing, but could not be certain in
the swelling din.

As I lay there on my long, cushioned chair, burning
with that insatiable thirst which, to thoroughly ap
preciate, one must be wounded, the door opened and a
Turco soldier came into the room and advanced toward
me on tip-toe.

He wore full uniform, was fully equipped, crimson
Chechia,, snowy gaiters, and terrible sabre-bayonet.

I beckoned him, and the tall, bronzed fellow came
up, smiling, showing his snowy, pointed teeth under
a crisp beard.

"Water, Mustapha/' I motioned with stiffened lips,
and the good fellow unslung his blue water-bottle and
set it to my burning mouth.

"Merci, mon brave!" I said. "May you dwell in
Paradise with Ali, the fourth Caliph, the Lion of God!"

The Turco stared, muttered the Tekbir in a low voice,
bent and kissed my hands.

" Were you once an officer of our African battalions?"
he asked, in the Arab tongue.

" Sous - officier of spahi cavalry," I said, smiling.
" And you are a Kabyle mountaineer from Constantine,
I see."

" It is true as I recite the fatha," cried the great fellow,
beaming on me. "We Kabyles love our officers and
bear witness to the unity of God, too. I am a marabout,
my inspector, Third Turcos, and I am anxious to have
a Prussian ask me who were my seven ancestors."

The music of his long - forgotten tongue refreshed
me ; old scenes and memories of the camp at Oran, the
never-to-be-forgotten cavalry with the scarlet cloaks,
rushed on me thick and fast ; incidents, trivial matters

68

THE IMMORTALS

of the bazaars, faces oi comrades dead, came to me
in flashes. My eyes grew moist, my throat swelled, I
whimpered :

"It is all very well, mon enfant, but Fm here with
a hole in me stuffed full of lint, and you have your
two good arms and as many legs with which to ex
plain to the Prussians who your seven ancestors may
be. Give me a drink, in God's name!"

Again he held up the blue water-bottle, saying,
gravely: "We both worship the same God, my in
spector, call Him what we will."

After a moment I said: "Is it a battle or a bous-
culade? But I need not ask ; the cannon tell me enough.
Are they storming the heights, Mustapha?"

"Macache comprendir," said the soldier, dropping
into patois. " There is much noise, but we Turcos are
here in Morsbronn, and we have seen nothing but
sparrows."

I listened for a moment ; the sound of the cannonade
appeared to be steadily receding westward.

"It seems to me like retreat!" I said, sharply,

"Ritrite? Quis qui ci^ ritrite?"

I looked at the simple fellow with tears in my
eyes.

"You would not understand if I told you/' said I.
" Are you detailed to look after me?"

He said he was, and I informed him that I needed
nobody; that it was much more important for every
body that he should rejoin his battalion in the street
below, where even now I could hear the Algerian bugles
blowing a silvery sonnerie — " Garde a vous !"

" I am Salah Ben- Ahmed, a marabout of the Third
Turcos/' he said, proudly, " and I have yet to explain
to these Prussians who my seven ancestors were.
Have I my inspector's permission to go?"

He was fairly trembling as the imperative clangor

69

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

of the bugles rang through the street ; his fine nostrils
quivered, his eyes glittered like a cobra's.

"Go, Salah Ben -Ahmed, the marabout/' said I,
laughing.

The soldier stiffened to attention; his bronzed hand
flew to his scarlet fez, and, "Salute! O my inspector!"
he cried, sonorously, and was gone at a bound.

That breathless unrest which always seizes me when
men are at one another's throats set me wriggling
and twitching, and peering from the window, through
which I could not see because of the blinds. Command
after command was ringing out in the street below.
"Forward!" shouted a resonant voice, and "Forward!
forward! forward!" echoed the voices of the captains,
distant and more distant, then drowned in the rolling of
kettle-drums and the silvery clang of Moorish cymbals
"" The band music of the Algerian infantry died away
in the distant tumult of the guns ; faintly, at moments,
I could still hear the shrill whistle of their flutes, the
tinkle of the silver chimes on their toug ; then a blank,
filled with the hollow roar of battle, then a clear note
from their reeds, a tinkle, an echoing chime — and noth
ing, save the immense monotone of the cannonade.

I had been lying there motionless for an hour, my
head on my hand, snivelling, when there came a knock
at the door, and I hastily buttoned my blood-stained
shirt to the throat, threw a tunic over my shoulders,
and cried, "Come in!"

A trick of memory and perhaps of physical weak
ness had driven from my mind all recollection of the
Countess de Vassart since I had come to my senses
under the surgeon's probe. But at the touch of her
fingers on the door outside, I knew her — I was cer
tain that it could be nobody but my Countess, who
had turned aside in her gentle pilgrimage to lift this
jLazarus from the waysides of a hostile world.

70

THE IMMORTAL-S

She entered noiselessly, bearing a bowl of broth and
some bread ; but when she saw me sitting there with
eyes and nose all red and swollen from snivelling she
set the bowl on a table and hurried to my side.

"What is it? Is the pain so dreadful?" she whis
pered.

" No — oh no. I'm only a fool, and quite hungry,
madame."

She brought the broth and bread and a glass of the
most exquisite wine I ever tasted — a wine that seemed
to brighten the whole room with its liquid sunshine.

" Do you know where you are?" she asked, gravely.

" Oh yes — in Morsbronn."

" And in whose house, monsieur?"

"I don't know — " I glanced instinctively at the
tarnished coronet on the canopy above the bed. " Do
you know, Madame la Comtesse?"

"I ought to," she said, faintly amused. "I was
born in this room. It was to this house that I desired
to come before — my exile."

Her eyes softened as they rested first on one familiar
object, then on another.

"The house has always been in our family," she
said. "It was once one of those fortified farms in the
times when every hamlet was a petty kingdom — like
the King of Yvet6t's domain. Doubtless the ancient
Tr6courts also wore cotton night-caps for their cor
onets."

"I remember now," said I, "a stone turret wedged
in between two houses. Is this it?"

" Yes, it is all that is left of the farm. My ancestors
built this crazy old row of houses for their tenants."

After a silence I said, " I wish I could look out of
the window."

She hesitated. " I don't suppose it could harm you?"

"It will harm me if I don't," said I.

71

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

She went to the window and folded up the varnished
blinds.

" How dreadful the cannonade is growing," she said.
"Wait! don't think of moving! I will push you close
to the window, where you can see."

The tower in which my room was built projected
from the rambling row of houses, so that my narrow
window commanded a view of almost the entire length
of the street. This street comprised all there was of
Morsbronn; it lay between a double rank of houses
constructed of plaster and beams, and surmounted by
high -pointed gables and slated or tiled roofs, so fan
tastic that they resembled steeples.

Down the street I could see the house that I had left
twenty-four hours before, never dreaming what my
journey to La Trappe held in store for me. One or
two dismounted soldiers of the Third Hussars sat in
the doorway, listening to the cannon; but, except for
these listless troopers, a few nervous sparrows, and
here and there a skulking peasant, slinking off with a
load of household furniture on his back, the street
was deserted.

Everywhere shutters had been put up, blinds closed,
curtains drawn. Not a shred of smoke curled from
the chimneys of these deserted houses; the heavy
gables cast sinister shadows over closed doors and
gates barred and locked, and it made me think of an
unseaworthy ship, prepared for a storm, so bare and
battened down was this long, dreary commune, lying
there in the August sun.

Beside the window, close to my face, was a small,
square loop-hole, doubtless once used for arquebus
fire. It tired me to lean on the window, so I contented
myself with lying back and turning my head, and I
could see quite as well through the loop-hole as from
the window.

THE IMMORTALS

Lying there, watching the slow shadows crawling
out over the sidewalk, I had been for some minutes
thinking of my friend Mr. Buckhurst, when I heard
the young Countess stirring in the room behind me.

" You are not going to be a cripple?" she said, as I
turned my head.

"Oh no, indeed!" said I.

"Nor die?" she added, seriously.

" How could a man die with an angel straight from
heaven to guard him! Pardon, I am only grateful,
not impertinent. " I looked at her humbly, and she
looked at me without the slightest expression.

Oh, it was all very well for the Countess de Vassart
to tuck up her skirts and rake hay, and live with a
lot of half-crazy apostles, and throw her fortune to
the proletariat and her ^reputation to the dogs. She
could do it; she was Eline Cyprienne de Tre"court,
Countess de Vassart ; and if her relatives didn't like
her views, that was their affair; and if the Faubourg
Saint -Germain emitted moans, that concerned the
noble faubourg and not James Scarlett, a policeman
attached to a division of paid mercenaries.

Oh yes, it was all very well for the Countess de
Vassart to play at democracy with her unbalanced
friends, but it was also well for Americans to remember
that she was French, and that this was France, and
that in France a countess was a countess until she was
buried in the family vault, whether she had chosen to
live as a countess or as Doll Dairymaid.

The young girl looked at me curiously, studying
me with those exquisite gray eyes of hers. Pensive,
distraite, she sat there, the delicate contour of her head
outlined against the sunny window, which quivered
with the slow boom! boom! of the cannonade.

"Are you English, Monsieur Scarlett?" she asked,
quietly.

73

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"American, madame."

"And yet you take service under an emperor."

"I have taken harder service than that."

"Of necessity?"

"Yes, madame."

She was silent.

" Would it amuse you to hear what I have been?"
I said, smiling.

" That is not the word," she said, quietly. " To hear
of hardship helps one to understand the world."

The cannonade had been growing so loud again
that it was with difficulty that we could make our
selves audible to each other. The jar of the discharges
began to dislodge bits of glass and little triangular
pieces of plaster, and the solid walls of the tower shook
till even the mirror began to sway and the tarnished
gilt sconces to quiver in their sockets.

" I wish you were not in Morsbronn," I said.

" I feel safer here in my own house than I should at
La Trappe," she replied.

She was probably thinking of the dead Uhlan and
of poor Bazard; perhaps of the wretched exposure of
Buckhurst — the man she had trusted and who had
proved to be a swindler, and a murderous one at that.

Suddenly a shell fell into the court-yard opposite,
bursting immediately in a cloud of gravel which rained
against our turret like hail.

Stunned for an instant, the Countess stood there
motionless, her face turned towards the window. I
struggled to sit upright.

She looked calmly at me; the color came back into
her face, and in .spite of my remonstrance she walked
to the window, closed the heavy outside shutters and
the blinds. As she was fastening them I heard the
whizzing quaver of another shell, the racket of its
explosion, the crash of plaster.

74

[Reproduced by permission of Unnpil A Co., of

A COMPANY OF TUFCOS CAME UP "

THE IMMORTALS

" Where is the safest place for us to stay?" she asked.
Her voice was perfectly steady.

"In the cellar. I beg you to go at once."

Bang! a shell blew up in a shower of slates and
knocked a chimney into a heap of bricks.

"Do you insist on staying by that loop-hole?" she
j asked, without a quiver in her voice.

" Yes, I do," said I. " Will you go to the cellar?"

"No," she said, shortly.

I saw her walk toward the rear of the room, hesitate,
sink down by the edge of the bed and lay her face in
the pillow.

Two shells burst with deafening reports in the street ;
the young Countess covered her face with both hands.
Shell after shell came howling, whistling, whizzing into
the village; the two hussars had disappeared, but a
company of Turcos came up on a run and began to dig
a trench across the street a hundred yards west of our
turret.

How they made the picks and shovels fly! Shells
tore through the air over them, bursting on impact
with roof and chimney; the Turcos tucked up their
blue sleeves, spat on their hands, and dug away like
terriers, while their officers, smoking the eternal ciga
rette, coolly examined the distant landscape through
their field-glasses.

Shells rained fast on Morsbronn; nearer and nearer
bellowed the guns; the plaster ceiling above my head
cracked and fell in thin flakes, filling the room with
an acrid, smarting dust. Again and again metal
fragments from shells rang out on the heavy walls of
our turret; a roof opposite sank in; flames flickered
up through clouds of dust; a heavy yellow smoke,
swarming with sparks, rolled past my window.

Down the street a dull sound grew into a steady roar ;
the Turcos dropped pick and shovel and seized their rifles.

75

TH£ MAIDS OF PARADISE

" Garde 1 Garde a vous ! " rang their startled bugles ;
the tumult increased to a swelling uproar, shouting,
cheering, the crash of shutters and of glass, and —

"The Prussians'/' bellowed the captain. "Turcos
— charge!"

His voice was lost ; a yelling mass of soldiery burst
into view; spiked helmets and bayonets glittering
through the smoke, the Turcos were whirled about
like brilliant butterflies in a tornado; the fusillade
swelled to a stupefying din, exploding in one terrible
crash; and, wrapped in lightning, the Prussian onset
passed.

From the stairs below came the sound of a voiceless
struggle, the trample and panting and clicking of
steel, till of a sudden a voice burst out into a dreadful
screaming. A shot followed — silence — another shot —
then the stairs outside shook under the rush of mount
ing men.

As the door burst open I felt a touch on my arm;
the Countess de Vassart stood erect and pale, one
slender, protecting hand resting lightly on my shoul
der; a lieutenant of Prussian infantry confronted us;
straight, heavy sword drawn, rigid, uncompromising,
in his faultless gray-and-black uniform, with its tight,
silver waist-sash.

" I do not have you thrown into the street," he said
to me, in excellent French, "because there has been
no firing from the windows in this village. Other
wise — other measures. Be at ease, madame, I shall
not harm your invalid."

He glanced at me out of his near-sighted eyes, dropped
the point of his sword to the stone floor, and slowly
caressed his small, blond mustache.

"How many troops passed through here yesterdaj^
morning?" he asked.

I was silent.

76

THE IMMORTALS

"There was artillery, was there not?"

I only looked at him.

"Do you hear?" he repeated, sharply. "You are a
prisoner, and I am questioning you."

"You have that useless privilege," I observed.

" If you are insolent I will have you shot!" he retort
ed, staring haughtily at me.

I glanced out of the window.

There was a pause; the hand of the Countess de
Vassart trembled on my shoulder.

Under the window strident Prussian bugles were
blowing a harsh summons; the young officer stepped
to the loop-hole and looked out, then hastily removed
his helmet and thrust his blond head through the
smoky aperture. "March those prisoners in below!"
he shouted down.

Then he withdrew his head, put on his polished
helmet of black leather, faced with the glittering Prus
sian eagle, and tightened the gold-scaled cheek-guard.

A moment later came a trample of feet on the land
ing outside, the door was flung open, and three prisoners
were brutally pushed into the room.

I tried to turn and look at them; they stood in the
dusk near the bed, but I could only make out that
one was a Turco, his jacket in rags, his canvas breeches
covered with mud.

Again the lieutenant came to the loop-hole and
glanced out, then shook his head, motioning the sol
diers back.

"It is too high and the arc of fire too limited," he
said, shortly. "Detail four men to hold the stairs,
ten men and a sergeant in the room below, and you'd
better take your prisoners down there. Bayonet that
Turco tiger if he shows his teeth again. March!"

As the prisoners filed out I turned once more and
thought I recognized Salah Ben - Ahmed in the di-

77

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

shevelled Turco, but could not be certain, so disfigured
and tattered the soldier appeared.

"Here, you hussar prisoner!" cried the lieutenant,
pointing at me with his white -gloved finger, "turn
your head and busy yourself with what concerns you.
And you, madame," he added, pompously, "see that
you give us no trouble and stay in this room until
you have permission to leave."

"Are — are you speaking to me, monsieur?" ask
ed the Countess, amazed. Then she rose, exasper
ated.

"Your insolence disgraces your uniform," she said.
" Go to your French prisoners and learn the rudiments
of courtesy!"

The officer reddened to his colorless eyebrows; his
little, near-sighted eyes became stupid and fixed; he
smoothed the blond down on his upper lip with hesitat
ing fingers.

Suddenly he turned and marched out, slamming the
door violently behind him.

At this impudence the eyes of the Countess began
to sparkle, and an angry flush mounted to her cheeks.

"Madame," said I, "he is only a German boy, un
balanced by his own importance and his first battle.
But he will never forget this lesson; let him digest it
in his own manner."

And he did, for presently there came a polite knock
at the door, and the lieutenant reappeared, bowing
rigidly, one hand on his sword-hilt, the other holding
his helmet by the gilt spike.

"Lieutenant von Eberbach present to apologize,"
he said, jerkily, red as a beet. "Begs permission to
take a half-dozen of wine; men very thirsty."

"Lieutenant von Eberbach may take the wine,"
said the Countess, calmly.

"Rudeness without excuse!" muttered the boy;
78

THE IMMORTALS

"beg the graciously well-born lady not to judge my
regiment or my country by it. Can Lieutenant von
Eberbach make amends?"

" The Lieutenant has made them/' said the Countess.
"The merciful treatment of French prisoners will
prove his sincerity."

The lad made another rigid bow and got himself
out of the door with more or less dignity, and the Coun
tess drew a chair beside my sofa-chair and sat down,
eyes still bright with the cinders of a wrath I had never
suspected in her.

Together we looked down into the street.

Under the window the flat, high-pitched drums began
to rattle; deep voices shouted; the whole street un
dulated with masses of gray - and - black uniforms,
moving forward through the smoke. A superb reg
imental band began to play ; the troops broke out into
heavy cheering.

" Vorwarts ! Vorwarts ! ' ' came the steady commands.
The band passed with a dull flash of instruments; a
thousand brass helmet-spikes pricked the smoke; the
tread of the Prussian infantry shook the earth.

"The invasion has begun," I said.

Her face was expressionless, save for the brightness
of her eyes.

And now another band sounded, playing "I Had
a Comrade!" and the whole street began to ring with
the noble marching-song of the coming regiment.

"Bavarian infantry," I whispered, as the light-blue
columns wheeled around the curve and came swinging
up the street; for I could see the yellow crown on the
collars of their tunics, and the heavy leather helmets,
surmounted by chenille rolls.

Behind them trotted a squadron of Uhlans on their
dainty horses, under a canopy of little black-and-white
flags fluttering from the points of their lances.

79

THE MAIDS OP PARADISE

"Uhlans/' I murmured. I heard the faint click of
her teeth closing tightly.

Hussars in crimson tunics, armed with curious
weapons, half carbine, half pistol, followed the Uh
lans, filling the smoky street with a flood of gorgeous
color.

Suddenly a company of Saxon pioneers arrived on
the double-quick, halted, fell out, and began to break
down the locked doors of the houses on either side of
the street. At the same time Prussian infantry came
hurrying past, dragging behind them dozens of vehi
cles, long hay- wagons, gardeners' carts, heavy wheel
barrows, even a dingy private carriage, with tarnished
lamps, rocking crazily on rusty springs.

The soldiers wheeled these wagons into a double line,
forming a complete chain across the street, where the
Turcos had commenced to dig their ditch and breast
works — a barricade high enough to check a charge,
and cunningly arranged, too, for the wooden abatis
could not be seen from the eastern end of the street,
where a charge of French infantry or cavalry must
enter Morsbronn if it entered at all.

We watched the building of the barricade, fascinated.
Soldiers entered the houses on either side of the street,
only to reappear at the windows and thrust out helmet-
ed heads. More soldiers came, running heavily — the
road swarmed with them; some threw themselves flat
under the wagons, some knelt, thrusting their needle-
guns through the wheel-spokes ; others remained stand
ing, rifles resting over the rails of the long, skeleton
hay- wagons.

"Something is going to happen," I said, as a group
of smartly uniformed officers appeared on the roof of
the opposite house and hastily scrambled to the ridge
pole.

Something was surely going to happen; the officers

80

THE IMMORTALS

were using their field-glasses and pointing excitedly
across the roof-tops; the windows of every house as
far as I could see were black with helmets ; a regiment
in column came up on the double, halted, disintegrated,
melting away behind walls, into yards, doorways, gar
dens.

A colonel of infantry, splendidly mounted, drew bri
dle under our loop-hole and looked up at the officers on
the roof across the way.

" Attention, you up there!" he shouted. "Is it in
fantry?"

"No!" bawled an officer, hollowed hand to his eheek.
"It's their brigade of heavy cavalry coming like an
earthquake!"

"The cuirassiers!" I cried, electrified. "It's Mi
chel's cuirassiers, madame! And — oh, the barricade!"
I groaned, twisting my fingers in helpless rage.
" They'll be caught in a trap ; they'll die like flies in
that street."

"This is horrible!" muttered the girl. " Don't they
know the street is blocked? Can't they find out before
they ride into this ravine below us? Will they all be
killed here under our windows?"

She sprang to her feet, stood a moment, then stepped
swiftly forward into the angle of the tower.

"Look there!" she cried, in terror.

"Push my chair — quick!" I said. She dragged it
forward.

An old house across the street, which had been on
fire, had collapsed into a mere mound of slate, charred
beams, and plaster. Through the brown heat which
quivered above the ruins I could see out into the coun
try. And what I saw was a line of hills, crowned
with smoke, a rolling stretch of meadow below, set
here and there with shot-torn trees and hop-poles ; and
over this uneven ground two regiments of French cui-
6 81

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

rassiers and two squadrons of lancers moving slowly
forward as though on parade.

Above them, around them, clouds of smoke puffed
up suddenly and floated away — the shells from Prus
sian batteries on the heights. Long, rippling crashes
broke out, belting the fields with smoky breastworks,
where a Prussian infantry regiment, knee -deep in
smoke, was firing on the advancing cavalry.

The cuirassiers moved on slowly, the sun a blind
ing sheet of fire on their armor ; now and then a horse
tossed his beautiful head, now and then a steel helmet
turned, flashing.

Grief - stricken, I groaned aloud: "Madame, there
rides the finest cavalry in the world ! — to annihila
tion."

How could I know that they were coming deliberately
to sacrifice themselves? — that they rode with death
heavy on their souls, knowing well there was no hope,
understanding that they were to die to save the frag
ments of a beaten army?

Yet something of this I suspected, for already I
saw the long, dark Prussian lines overlapping the
French flank ; I heard the French mitrailleuses rattling
through the cannon's thunder, and I saw an entire
French division, which I did not then know to be
Lartigue's, falling back across the hills.

And straight into the entire Prussian army rode
the "grosse cavallerie" and the lancers.

" They are doomed, like their fathers," I muttered —
"sons of the cuirassiers of Waterloo. See what men
can do for France!"

The young Countess started and stood up very
straight.

"Look, madame!" I said, harshly — "look on the
men of France! You say you do not understand
the narrow love of country! Look!"

82

THE IMMORTALS

"It is too pitiful, too horrible," she said, hoarsely.
"How the horses fall in that meadow!"

"They will fall thicker than that in this street!"

"See!" she cried; "they have begun to gallop!
They are coming! Oh, I cannot look! — I— I cannot!"

Far away, a thin cry sounded above the cannon
din; the doomed cuirassiers were cheering. It was
the first charge they had ever made ; nobody had ever
seen cavalry of their arm on any battle-field of Europe
since Waterloo.

Suddenly their long, straight blades shot into the
air, the cuirassiers broke into a furious gallop, and
that mass of steel-clad men burst straight down the
first slope of the plateau, through the Prussian in
fantry, then wheeled and descended like a torrent on
Morsbronn.

In the first ranks galloped the giants of the Eighth
Cuirassiers, Colonel Guiot de la Rochere at their head ;
the Ninth Cuirassiers thundered behind them; then
came the lancers under a torrent of red - and - white
pennons. Nothing stopped them, neither hedges nor
ditches nor fallen trees.

Their huge horses bounded forward, manes in the
wind, tails streaming, iron hoofs battering the shaking
earth; the steel-clad riders, sabres pointed to the front,
leaned forward in their saddles.

Now among the thicket of hop -vines long lines of
black arose ; there was a flash, a belt of smoke, another
flash — then the metallic rattle of bullets on steel breast
plates. Entire ranks of cuirassiers went down in
the smoke of the Prussian rifles, the sinister clash
and crash of falling armor filled the air. Sheets of
lead poured into them; the rattle of empty scabbards
on stirrups, the metallic ringing of bullets on helmet
and cuirass, the rifle-shots, the roar of the shells
exploding swelled into a very hell of sound. And,

83

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

above the infernal fracas rose the heavy cheering of
the doomed riders.

Into the deep, narrow street wheeled the horsemen,
choking road and sidewalk with their galloping squad
rons, a solid cataract of impetuous horses, a flashing
torrent of armored men — and then! Crash! the firs',
squadron dashed headlong against the barricade of
wagons and went down.

Into them tore the squadron behind, unable to stop
their maddened horses, and into these thundered squad
ron after squadron, unconscious of the dead wall ahead.

In the terrible tumult and confusion, screaming
horses and shrieking men were piled in heaps, a hu
man whirlpool formed at the barricade, hurling bodily
from its centre horses and riders. Men galloped head
long into each other, riders struggled knee to knee,
pushing, shouting, colliding.

Posted behind the upper and lower windows of the
houses, the Prussians shot into them, so close that
the flames from the rifles set the jackets of the cuiras
siers on fire : a German captain opened the shutters
of a window and fired his pistol at a cuirassier, who
replied with a sabre thrust through the window, trans
fixing the German's throat.

Then a horrible butchery of men and horses began ;
the fusillade became so violent and the scene so sick
ening that a Prussian lieutenant went crazy in the
house opposite, and flung himself from the window
into the mass of writhing horsemen. Tall cuirassiers,
in impotent fury, began slashing at the walls of the
houses, breaking their heavy sabres to splinters against
the stones; their powerful horses, white with foam,
reared, fell back, crushing their riders beneath them.

In front of the barricade a huge fellow reined in
his horse and turned, white -gloved hand raised, red
epaulets tossing.

84

THE IMMORTALS

"Halt! Halt!" he shouted. "Stop the lancers!"
And a trumpeter, disengaging himself from the frantic
chaos, set his long, silver trumpet to his lips and blew
the "Halt!"

A bullet rolled the trumpeter under his horse's feet;
a volley riddled the other's horse, and the agonized
animal reared and cleared the bristling abatis with a
single bound, his rider dropping dead among the hay-
wagons.

Then into this awful struggle galloped the two
squadrons of the lancers. For a moment the street
swam under their fluttering red-and-white lance-pen
nons, then a volley swept them — another — another- —
and down they went.

Herds of riderless horses tore through the street;
the road undulated with crushed, quivering creatures
crawling about. Against the doorway of a house
opposite a noble horse in agony leaned with shaking
knees, head raised, lips shrinking back over his teeth.

Bewildered, stupefied, exhausted, the cuirassiers sat
in their saddles, staring up at the windows where
the Prussians stood and fired. Now and then one
would start as from a nightmare, turn his jaded horse,
and go limping away down the street. The road was
filled with horsemen, wandering helplessly about under
the rain of bullets. One, a mere boy, rode up to a
door, leaned from his horse and began to knock for
admittance; another dismounted and sat down on a
doorstep, head buried in his hands, regardless of the
bullets which tore the woodwork around him.

The street was still crowded with entrapped cuiras
siers, huddled in groups or riding up and down the
walls mechanically seeking shelter. A few of these,
dismounted, were wearily attempting to drag a heavy
cart away from the barricade; the Prussians shot
them, one at a time, but others came to help, and a

85

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

few lancers aided them, and at length they managed
to drag a hay-wagon aside, giving a narrow passage
to the open country beyond. Instantly the Prussian
infantry swarmed out of the houses and into the street,
shouting, "Prisoners!" pushing, striking, and drag
ging the exhausted cuirassiers from their saddles.
But contact with the enemy, hand to hand, seemed
to revive the fury of the armored riders. The debris
of the regiments closed up, long, straight sabres glit
tered, trembling horses plunged forward, broke into a
stiff gallop, and passed through the infantry, through
the rent in the barricade, and staggered away across
the fields, buried in the smoke of a thousand rifles.

So rode the "Cuirassiers of Morsbronn," the flower
of an empire's chivalry, the elect of France. So rode
the gentlemen of the Sixth Lancers to shiver their
slender spears against stone walls — for the honor of
France.

Death led them. Death rode with them knee to knee.
Death alone halted them. But their shining souls
galloped on into that vast Valhalla where their ances
tors of Waterloo stood waiting, and the celestial trum
pets pealed a last "Dismount I"

VI

THE GAME BEGINS

THE room in the turret was now swimming in
smoke and lime dust; I could scarcely see the
gray figure of the Countess through the powder-mist
which drifted in through shutters and loop-hole, dim
ming the fading daylight.

In the street a dense pall of pungent vapor hung
over roof and pavement, motionless in the calm August
air; two houses were burning slowly, smothered in
smoke; through a ruddy fog I saw the dead lying
in mounds, the wounded moving feebly, the Prussian
soldiery tossing straw into the hay-carts that had
served their deadly purpose.

But oh, the dreadful murmur that filled the heavy
air, the tremulous, ceaseless plaint which comes from
strong, muscular creatures, tenacious of life, who are
dying and who die hard.

Helmeted figures swarmed through the smoke;
wagon after wagon, loaded deep with dead cavalry
men, was drawn away by heavy teams of horses now
arriving from the regimental transport train, which
had come up and halted just at the entrance to the
village.

And now wagon-loads of French wounded began to
pass, jolting over crushed helmets, rifles, cuirasses,
and the carcasses of dead horses.

A covey of Uhlans entered the shambles, picking

87

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

their way across the wreckage of the battle, a slim,
wiry, fastidious company, dainty as spurred game
cocks, with their helmet - cords swinging like wattles
and their schapskas tilted rakishly.

Then the sad cortege of prisoners formed in the
smoke, the wounded leaning on their silent comrades,
bandaged heads hanging, the others erect, defiant,
supporting the crippled or standing with arms folded
and helmeted heads held high.

And at last they started, between two files of mount
ed Uhlans — Turcos, line infantrymen, gendarmes, lan
cers, and, towering head and shoulders above the
others, the superb cuirassiers.

A German general and his smartly uniformed staff
came clattering up the slippery street and halted to
watch the prisoners defile And, as the first of the
captive cuirassiers came abreast of the staff, the gen
eral stiffened in his saddle and raised his hand to his
helmet, saying to his officers, loud enough for me to
hear:

"Salute the brave, gentlemen!"

And the silent, calm-eyed cuirassiers passed on,
heads erect, uniforms in shreds, their battered armor
foul with smoke and mud, spurs broken, scabbards
empty.

Troops of captured horses, conducted by Uhlans,
followed the prisoners, then wagons piled high with
rifles, sabres, and saddles, then a company of Uhlans
cantering away with the shot -torn guidons of the
cuirassiers.

Last of all came the wounded in their straw-wadded
wagons, escorted by infantry; I heard them coming
before I saw them, and, sickened, I closed my ears with
my hands; yet even then the deep, monotonous groan
ing seemed to fill the room and vibrate through the
falling shadows long after the last cart had creaked

THE GAME BEGINS

out of sight and hearing into the gathering haze of
evening.

The deadened booming of cannon still came steadily
from the west, and it needed no messenger to tell me
that the First Corps had been hurled back into Alsace,
and that MacMahon's army was in full retreat; that
now the Rhine was open and the passage of the Vosges
was clear, and Strasbourg must stand siege and Belfort
and Toul must man their battlements for a struggle
that meant victory, or an Alsace doomed and a Lorraine
lost to France forever.

The room had grown very dark, the loop-hole admit
ting but little of the smoky evening sunset. Some
soldiers in the hallway outside finally lighted torches ;
red reflections danced over the torn ceiling and plaster-
covered floor, illuminating a corner where the Countess
was sitting by the bedside, her head lying on the
covers. How long she had been there I did not know,
but when I spoke she raised her head and answered
quietly.

In the torchlight her face was ghastly, her eyes red
and dim as she came over to me and looked out into
the darkness.

The woman was shaken terribly, shaken to the
very soul. She had not seen all that I had seen; she
had flinched before the spectacle of a butchery too
awful to look upon, but she had seen enough, and
she had heard enough to support or to confound the
ories formed through a young girl's brief, passionless,
eventless life.

Under the window soldiers began shooting the
crippled horses; the heavy flash and bang of rifles
set her trembling again.

Until the firing ceased she stood as though stupefied,
scarcely breathing, her splendid hair glistening like
molten copper in the red torches' glare.

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

A soldier came into the room and dragged the bed
clothes from the bed, trailing them across the floor be
hind him as he departed. An officer holding a lantern
peered through the door, his eye-glasses shining, his
boots in his hand.

He evidently had intended to get into the bed, but
when his gaze fell upon us he withdrew in his stock
inged feet.

On the stairs soldiers were eating hunches of stale
bread and knocking the necks from wine bottles with
their bayonets. One lumpish fellow came to the door
and offered me part of a sausage which he was devour
ing, a kindly act that touched me, and I wondered
whether the other prisoners might find among their
Uhlan guards the same humanity that moved this
half-famished yokel to offer me the food he was gnaw
ing.

Soldiers began to come and go in the room ; some
carried off chairs for officers below some took the
pillows from the bed, one bore away a desk on his
broad shoulders.

The Countess never moved or spoke.

The evening had grown chilly; I was cold to my
knees.

A soldier offered to build me a fire in the great stone
fireplace behind me, and when I assented he calmly
smashed a chair to kindling-wood, wrenched off the
heavy posts of the bed, and started a fire which lit
up the wrecked room with its crimson glare.

The Countess rose and looked around. The soldier
pushed my long chair to the blaze, tore down the canopy
over the bed and flung it over me, stolidly ignoring my
protests. Then he clumped out with his muddy boots
and shut the door behind him.

For a long while I lay there, full in the heat of the
fire, half dozing, then sleeping, then suddenly alert,

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THE GAME BEGINS

only to look about me to see the Countess with eyes
closed, motionless in her arm-chair, only to hear the
muffled thunder of the guns in the dark.

Once again, having slept, I roused, listening. The
crackle of the flames was all I heard ; the cannon were
silent. A few moments later a clock in the hall
way struck nine times. At the same instant a dead
ened cannon-shot echoed the clamor of the clock. It
was the last shot of the battle. And when the dull
reverberations had died away Alsace was a lost prov
ince, MacMahon's army was in full retreat, leaving
on the three battle-fields of Worth, Reichshoffen, and
Froschweiler sixteen thousand dead, wounded, and
missing soldiers of France.

All night long I heard cavalry traversing Morsbronn
in an unbroken column, the steady trample of their
horses never ceasing for an instant. At moments,
from the outskirts of the village, the sinister sound
of cheering came from the vanguard of the German
Sixth Corps, just arriving to learn of the awful disaster
to France. Too late to take any part in the battle,
these tired soldiers stood cheering by regiments as
the cavalry rode past in pursuit of the shattered army,
and their cheering swelled to a terrific roar toward
morning, when the Prince Royal of Prussia appeared
with his staff, and the soldiers in Morsbronn rushed
out into the street bellowing, " Hoch soil er leben !
Er soil leben— Hoch!"

About seven o'clock that morning a gaunt, leather-
faced Prussian officer, immaculate in his sombre uni
form, entered the room without knocking. The young
Countess turned in the depths of her chair; he bowed
to her slightly, unfolded a printed sheet of paper which
bore the arms of Prussia, hesitated, then said, looking
directly at me:

" Morsbronn is now German territory and will con-
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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

tinue to be governed by military law, proclaimed under
the state of siege, until the country is properly pacified.

" Honest inhabitants will not be disturbed. Citizens
are invited to return to their homes and peacefully
continue their legitimate avocations, subject to and
under the guarantee of the Prussian military govern
ment.

" Monsieur, I have the honor to hand you a copy of
regulations. I am the provost marshal ; all complaints
should be brought to me."

I took the printed sheet and looked at the Prussian
coat of arms.

" A list of the inhabitants of Morsbronn will be made
to-day. You will have the goodness to declare yourself
— and you also, madame. There being other build
ings better fitted, no soldiers will be quartered in this
house."

The officer evidently mistook me for the owner of
the house and not a prisoner. A blanket hid my hussar
trousers and boots ; he could only see my ragged shirt.

"And now, madame," he continued, "as monsieur
appears to need the services of a physician, I shall
send him a French doctor, brought in this morning
from the Chateau de la Trappe. I wish him to get
well; I wish the inhabitants of my district to return
to their homes and resume the interrupted regimes
which have made this province of Alsace so valuable
to France. I wish Morsbronn to prosper; I wish it
well. This is the German policy.

" But, monsieur, let me speak plainly. I tolerate
no treachery. The law is iron and will be applied
with rigor. An inhabitant of my district who deceives
me, or who commits an offence against the troops
under my command, or who in any manner holds,
or attempts to hold, communication with the enemy,
will be shot without court-martial."

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THE GAME BEGINS

He turned his grim, inflexible face to the Countess
and bowed, then he bowed to me, swung squarely on
his heel, and walked to the door.

"Admit the French doctor," he said to the soldier
on guard, and marched out, his curved sabre banging
behind his spurred heels.

"It must be Dr. Delmont!" I said, looking at the
Countess as there came a low knock at the door.

"I am very thankful!" she said, her voice almost
breaking. She rose unsteadily from her chair; some
body entered the room behind me and I turned, calling
out, "Welcome, doctorl"

"Thank you," replied the calm voice of John Buck-
hurst at my elbow.

The Countess shrank aside as Buckhurst coolly
passed before her, turned his slim back to the embers
of the fire, and fixed his eyes on me — those pale, slow
eyes, passionless as death.

Here was a type of criminal I had never until re
cently known. Small of hand and foot — too small
even for such a slender man — clean shaven, colorless
in hair, skin, lips, he challenged instant attention
by the very monotony of his bloodless symmetry.
There was nothing of positive evil in his face, nothing
of impulse, good or bad, nothing even superficially
human. His spotless linen, his neat sack-coat and
trousers of gray seemed part of him — like a loose outer
skin. There was in his ensemble nothing to disturb
the negative harmony, save perhaps an abnormal
flatness of the instep and hands.

"My friend," he observed, in English, " do you think
you will know me again when you have finished your
scrutiny?"

The Countess, face averted, passed behind my chair.

"Wait," said Buckhurst; and turning directly to
me, he added: "You were mistaken for a hussar at

93

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

La Trappe; you were mistaken here for a hussar as
long as the squad holding this house remained in
Morsbronn. A few moments ago the provost mistook
you for a civilian." He looked across at the Countess,
who already stood with her hand on the door-knob.

"If you disturb me," he said, "I have only to tell
the provost the truth. Members of the Imperial Police
caught without proper uniform inside German lines
are shot, stance tenante."

The Countess stood perfectly still a moment, then
came straight to me.

"Is that true?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

She still leaned forward, looking down into my
face. Then she turned to Buckhurst.

"Do you want money?" she asked.

"I want a chair — and your attention for the pres
ent," he replied, and seated himself.

The printed copy of the rules handed me by the
provost marshal lay on the floor. Buckhurst picked
up the sheet, glanced at the Prussian eagle, and
thoughtfully began rolling the paper into a grotesque
shape.

"Sit down, madame," he said, without raising his
eyes from the bit of paper which he had now fashioned
into a cocked hat.

After a moment's silent hesitation the Countess
drew a small gilt chair beside my sofa-chair and sat
down, and again that brave, unconscious gesture of
protection left her steady hand lying lightly on my arm.

Buckhurst noted the gesture. And all at once I
divined that whatever plan he had come to execute
had been suddenly changed. He looked down at the
paper in his hands, gave it a thoughtful twist, and,
drawing the ends out, produced a miniature paper
boat.

94

THE GAME BEGINS

" We are all in one like that," he observed, holding
it up without apparent interest. He glanced at the
young Countess; her face was expressionless.

"Madame," said Buckhurst, in his peculiarly soft
and persuasive voice, "I am not here to betray this
gentleman; I am not here even to justify myself. I
came here to make reparation, to ask your forgive
ness, madame, for the wrong I have done you, and to
deliver myself, if necessary, into the hands of the
proper French authorities in expiation of my mis
guided zeal."

The Countess was looking at him now; he fumbled
with the paper boat, gave it an unconscious twist,
and produced a tiny paper box.

"The cause," he said, gently, "to which I have
devoted my life must not suffer through the mistake
of a fanatic ; for in the cause of universal brotherhood
I am, perhaps, a fanatic, and to aid that cause I have
gravely compromised myself. I came here to expiate
that folly and to throw myself upon your mercy,
madame."

"I do not exactly understand," said I, "how you
can expiate a crime here."

"I can at least make restitution," he said, turning
the paper box over and over between his flat fingers.

" Have you brought me the diamonds which belong
to the state?" I inquired, amused.

" Yes," he said, and to my astonishment he drew a
small leather pouch from his pocket and laid it on my
blanket-covered knees. "How many diamonds were
there?" he asked.

"One hundred and three," I replied, incredulously,
and opened the leather pouch. Inside was a bag of
chamois-skin. This I stretched wide and emptied.

Scores of little balls of tissue-paper rolled out on the
blanket over my knees; I opened one; it contained a

95

THE MAIDS OP PARADISE

diamond; I opened another, another, and another;
diamonds lay blazing on my blanket, a whole handful,
glittering in undimmed splendor.

"Count them," murmured Buckhurst, fashioning
the paper box into a fly-trap with a lid.

With a quick movement I swept them into my hands,
then one by one dropped the stones while I counted
aloud one hundred and two diamonds. The one hun
dred and third jewel was, of course, safely in Paris.

When I had a second time finished the enumeration
I leaned back in my chair, utterly at a loss to account
for this man or for what he had done. As far as I
could see there was no logic in it, nothing demonstrated,
nothing proven. To me — and I am not either sus
picious or obstinate by nature — Buckhurst was still
an unrepentant thief and a dangerous one.

I could see in him absolutely nothing of the fanatic,
of the generous, feather-headed devotee, nothing of
the hasty disciple or the impulsive martyr. In my
eyes he continued to be the passionless master-criminal,
the cold, slow-eyed source of hidden evil, the designer
of an intricate and viewless intrigue against the state.

His head remained bent over the paper toy in his
hands. Was his hair gray with age or excesses, or
was it only colorless like the rest of his exterior?

" Restitution is not expiation," he said, sadly, with
out looking up. "I loved the cause; I love it still;
I practised deception, and I am here to ask this gentle
lady to forgive me for an unworthy yet unselfish use
of her money and her hospitality. If she can pardon
me I welcome whatever punishment may be meted
out."

The Countess dropped her elbow on the arm of my
chair and rested her face in her hand.

"Swept away by my passion for the cause of uni
versal brotherhood," said Buckhurst, in his low, caress-

96

THE GAME BEGINS

ing voice, "I ventured to spend this generous lady's
money to carry the propaganda into the more violent
centres of socialism — into the clubs in Montmartre
and Belleville. There I urged non-resistance ; I pleaded
moderation and patience. What I said helped a little,
I think—"

He hesitated, twisting his fly-box into a paper creature
with four legs.

"I was eager; people listened. I thought that if
I had a little more money I might carry on this work.
... I could not come to you, madame — "

" Why not?" said the Countess, looking at him quick
ly. "I have never refused you money!"

"No," he said, "you never refused me. But I knew
that La Trappe was mortgaged, that even this house
in Morsbronn was loaded with debt. I knew, madame,
that in all the world you had left but one small roof
to cover you — the house in Morbihan, on Point Paradise.
I knew that if I asked for money you would sell Para
dise, . . . and I could not ask so much, ... I could
not bring myself to ask that sacrifice."

"And so you stole the crucifix of Louis XL," I sug
gested, pleasantly.

He did not look at me, but the Countess did.

" Bon," I thought, watching Buckhurst's deft fingers ;
"he means to be taken back into grace. I wonder
exactly why? And ... is it worth this fortune in
diamonds to him to be pardoned by a penniless girl
whom he and his gang have already stripped?"

"Could you forgive me, madame?" murmured Buck-
hurst.

"Would you explain that stick of dynamite first?"
I interposed.

The Countess turned and looked directly at Buck-
hurst. He sat with humble head bowed, nimbly con
structing a paper bird.

7 97

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" That was not dynamite ; it was concentrated phos
phorus/' he said, without resentment. " Natural^ it
burned when you lighted it, but if you had not burned
it I could easily have shown Madame la Comtesse what
it really was."

"I also," said I, "if I had thrown it at your feet,
Mr. Buckhurst."

" Do you not believe me?" he asked, meekly, looking
up at the Countess.

" Mr. Buckhurst," said the young Countess, turning
to me, " has aided me for a long time in experiments.
We hoped to find some cheap method of restoring
nitrogen and phosphorus to the worn - out soil which
our poor peasants till. Why should you doubt that
he speaks the truth? At least he is guiltless of any
connection with the party which advocated violence."

I looked at Buckhurst. He was engaged in con
structing a multi-pointed paper star. What else was
he busy with? Perhaps I might learn if I ceased to
manifest distrust.

" Does concentrated phosphorus burn like dynamite?"
I asked, as if with newly aroused interest.

"Did you not know it?" he said, warily.

But was he deceived by my manner? Was that
the way for me to learn anything?

There was perhaps another way. Clearly this ex
traordinary man depended upon his persuasive elo
quence for his living, for the very shoes on his little,
flat feet, as do all such chevaliers of industry. If he
would only begin to argue, if I could only induce him
to try his eloquence on me, and if I could convince him
that I myself was but an ignorant, self-centred, bullet-
headed 'gendarme, doing my duty only because of per
spective advancement, ready perhaps to take bribes
— perhaps even weakly, covetously, credulous — well,
perhaps I might possibly learn why he desired to cling

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THE GAME BEGINS

to this poor young lady, whose life had evidently gone
dreadfully to smash, to land her among such a coterie
of thieves and lunatics.

"Mr. Buckhurst," I said, pompously, "in bringing
these diamonds to me you have certainly done all
in your power to repair an injury which concerned all
France.

" As I am situated, of course I cannot now ask you
to accompany me to Paris, where doubtless the proper
authorities would gladly admit extenuating circum
stances, and credit you with a sincere repentance.
But I put you on your honor to surrender at the first
opportunity."

It was as stupidly trite a speech as I could think of.

Buckhurst glanced up at me. Was he taking my
measure anew, judging me from my bray?

"I could easily aid you to leave Morsbronn," he
said, stealthily.

" Oho," thought I, " so you're a German agent, too,
as I suspected." But I said, aloud, simulating aston
ishment: "Do you mean to say, Mr. Buckhurst, that
you would deliberately risk death to aid a police offi
cer to bring you before a military tribunal in Paris?"

" I do not desire to pose as a hero or a martyr," he
said, quietly, " but I regret what I have done, and I
will do what an honest man can do to make the fullest
reparation — even if it means my death."

I gazed at him in admiration — real admiration — be
cause the gross bathos he had just uttered betrayed a
weakness — vanity. Now I began to understand him;
vanity must also lead him to undervalue men. True,
with the faintest approach to eloquence he could no
doubt hold the " Clubs " of Belleville spellbound ; with
self-effacing adroitness to cover stealthy persuasion,
he had probably found little difficulty in dominating
this inexperienced girl, who, touched to the soul with

99

pity for human woe, had flung herself and her fortune
to the howling proletariat.

But that he should so serenely undervalue me at my
first bray was more than I hoped for. So I brayed
again, the good, old, sentimental bray, for which all
Gallic lungs are so marvellously fashioned :

"Monsieur, such sentiments honor you. I am
only a rough soldier of the Imperial Police, but I am
profoundly moved to find among the leaders of the
proletariat such delicate and chivalrous emotions — "
I hesitated. Was I buttering the sop too thickly?

Buckhurst, eyes bent on the floor, began picking
to pieces his paper toy. Presently he looked up, not
at me, but at the Countess, who sat with hands clasped
earnestly watching him.

"If — if the state pardons me, can . . . you?" he
murmured.

She looked at him with intense earnestness. I saw
he was sailing on the wrong tack.

"I have nothing to pardon," she said, gravely.
"But I must tell you the truth, Mr. Buckhurst, I can
not forget what you have done. It was something —
the one thing that I cannot understand — that I can
never understand — something so absolutely alien to me
that it — somehow — leaves me stunned. Don't ask me
to forget it. ... I cannot. I do not mean to be harsh
and cruel, or to condemn you. Even if you had taken
the jewels from me, and had asked my forgiveness,
I would have given it freely. But I could not be as I
was, a comrade to you."

There was a silence. The Countess, looking perfect
ly miserable, still gazed at Buckhurst. He dropped
his gray, symmetrical head, yet I felt that he was lis
tening to every minute sound in the room.

"You must not care what I say," she said. "I am
only an unhappy woman, unused to the liberty I have

100

THE GAME BEGINS

given myself, not yet habituated to the charity of those
blameless hearts which forgive everything! I am a
novice, groping my way into a new and vast world, a
limitless, generous, forgiving commune, where love
alone dominates. . . . And if I had lived among my
brothers long enough to be purged of those traditions
which I have drawn from generations, I might now be
noble enough and wise enough to say I do forgive and
forget that you — "

"That you were once a thief," I ended, with the
genial officiousness of the hopelessly fat-minded.

In the stillness I heard Buckhurst draw in his breath
— once. Some day he would try to kill me for that ; in
the mean time my crass stupidity was no longer a
question in his mind. I had hurt the Countess, too,
with what she must have believed a fool's needless
brutality. "But it had to be so if I played at Jaques
Bonhomme.

So I put the finishing whine to it — "Our Lord died
between two thieves " — and relapsed into virtuous con
templation of my finger-tips.

"Madame," said Buckhurst, in a low voice, "your
contempt of me is part of my penalty. I must endure
it. I shall not complain. But I shall try to live a life
that will at least show you my deep sincerity."

"I do not doubt it," said the Countess, earnestly.
"Don't think that I mean to turn away from you or
to push you away. There is nothing of the Pharisee
in me. I would gladly trust you with what I have.
I will consult you and advise with you, Mr. Buck
hurst—"

"And . . . despise me."

The unhappy Countess looked at me. It goes hard
with a woman when her guide and mentor falls.

" If you return to Paradise, in Morbihan, ... as we
had planned, may I go," he asked, humbly, " only as

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

an obscure worker in the cause? I beg, madame, that
you will not cast me off."

So he wanted to go to Morbihan — to the village of
Paradise? Why?

The Countess said : "I welcome all who care for the
cause. You will never hear an unkind word from me
if you desire to resume the work in Paradise. Dr.
Delmont will be there; Monsieur Ta vernier also, I
hope; and they are older and wiser than I, and they
have reached that lofty serenity which is far above
my troubled mind. Ask them what you have asked
of me; they are equipped to answer you."

It was time for another discord from me, so I said :
"Madame, you have seen a thousand men lay down
their lives for France. Has it not shaken your alle
giance to that ghost of patriotism which you call the
' Internationale' ? "

Here was food for thought, or rather fodder for
asses — the Police Oracle turned missionary under the
nose of the most cunning criminal in France and the
vainest. Of course Buckhurst's contempt for me at
once passed all bounds, and, secure in that contempt,
he felt it scarcely worth while to use his favorite
weapon — persuasion. Still, if the occasion should re
quire it, he was quite ready, I knew, to loose his elo
quence on the Countess, and on me too.

The Countess turned her troubled eyes to me.

"What I have seen, what I have thought since yes
terday has distressed me dreadfully," she said. "I
have tried to include all the world in a broader pity, a
broader, higher, and less selfish love than the jealous,
single-minded love for one country — "

"The mother-land," I said, and Buckhurst looked
up, adding, "The world is the true mother-land."

Whereupon I appeared profoundly impressed at such
a novel and epigrammatic view.

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THE GAME BEGINS

"There is much to be argued on both sides/' said
the young Countess, "but I am utterly unfitted to
struggle with this new code of ethics. If it had been
different — if I had been born among the poor, in
misery! — But you see I come a pilgrim among the
proletariat, clothed in conservatism, cloaked with tra
dition, and if at heart I burn with sorrow for the mis
erable, and if I gladly give what I have to help, I
cannot with a single gesture throw off those inherited
garments, though they tortured my body like the gar
ment of Nessus."

I did not smile or respect her less for the stilted
phrases, the pathetic poverty of metaphor. Profound
ly troubled, struggling with a reserve the borders
of which she strove so bravely to cross, her distress
touched me the more because I knew it aroused the
uneasy contempt of Buckhurst. Yet I could not spare
her.

"You saw the cuirassiers die in the street below/'
I repeated, with the obstinacy of a limited intellect.

"Yes — and my heart went out to them," she replied,
with an emphasis that pleased me and startled Buck-
hurst.

Buckhurst began to speak, but I cut him short.

" Then, madame, if your heart went out to the sol
diers of France, it went out to France, too!"

"Yes — to France," she repeated, and I saw her lip
begin to quiver.

" Wherein does love for France conflict with our
creed, madame?" asked Buckhurst, gently. "It is
only hate that we abjure."

She turned her gray eyes on him. " I will tell you :
in that dreadful moment when the cavalry of France
cheered Death in his own awful presence, I loved them
and their country — my country ! — as I had never loved
in all my life. . . . And I hated, too! I hated the

103

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

men who butchered them — more! — I hated the coun
try where the men came from ; I hated race and coun
try and the blows they dealt, and the evil they wrought
on France — my France ! That is the truth ; and I
realize it!"

There was a silence ; Buckhurst slowly unrolled the
wrinkled paper he had been fingering.

"And now?" he asked, simply.

"Now?" she repeated. "I don't know — truly, I do
not know." She turned to me sorrowfully. "I had
long since thought that my heart was clean of hate,
and now I don't know." And, to Buckhurst, again:
"Our creed teaches us that war is vile — a savage be
trayal of humanity by a few dominant minds; a dis
honorable ingratitude to God and country. But from
that window I saw men die for honor of France with
God's name on their lips. I saw one superb cuiras
sier, trapped down there in the street, sit still on his
horse, while they shot at him from every window, and
I heard him call up to a Prussian officer who had just
fired at him : ' My friend, you waste powder ; the heart
of France is cuirassed by a million more like me!'"
A rich flush touched her face; her gray eyes grew
brighter.

" Is there a Frenchwoman alive whose blood would
not stir at such a scene?" she said. "They shot him
through his armor, his breastplate was riddled, he
clung to his horse, always looking up at the riflemen,
and I heard the bullets drumming on his helmet and
his cuirass like hailstones on a tin roof, and I could
not look away. And all the while he was saying, qui
etly : ' It is quite useless, friends ; France lives ! You
waste your powder!' and I could not look away or
close my eyes — "

She bent her head, shivering, and her interlocked
fingers whitened.

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THE GAME BEGINS

" I only know this/' she said : "I will give all I have
— I will give my poor self to help the advent of that
world -wide brotherhood which must efface national
frontiers and end all war in this sad world. But if
you ask me, in the presence of war, to look on with
impartiality, to watch my own country battling for
breath, to stop my ears when a wounded mother-land
is calling, to answer the supreme cry of France with
a passionless cry, 'Repent!' I cannot do it — I will not!
I was not born to!"

Deeply moved, she had risen, confronting Buck-
hurst, \vhose stone-cold eyes were fixed on her.

" You say I hold you unworthy," she said. "Others
may hold me, too, unworthy because I have not reached
that impartial equipoise whence, impassive, I can bal
ance my native land against its sins and watch blind
justice deal with it all unconcerned.

" In theory I have done it — oh, it is simple to teach
one's soul in theory! But when my eyes saw my
own land blacken and shrivel like a green leaf in the
fire, and when with my own eyes I saw the best, the
noblest, the crown of my country's chivalry fall rolling
in the mud of Morsbronn under the feet of Prussia,
every drop of blood in my body was French — hot and
red and French! And it is now; and it will always
be — as it has always been, though I did not under
stand."

After a silence Buckhurst said: "All that may be,
madame, yet not impair your creed."

"What!" she said, "does not hatred of the stranger
impair my creed?"

"It will die out and give place to reason."

"When? When I attain the lofty, dispassionate
level I have never attained? That will not be while
this war endures."

"Who knows?" said Buckhurst, gently.
105

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"I know!" replied the Countess, the pale flames in
her cheeks deepening again.

"And yet/' observed Buckhurst, patiently, "you are
going to Paradise to work for the Internationale."

"I shall try to do my work and love France," she
said, steadily. " I cannot believe that one renders the
other impossible."

"Yet," said I, "if you teach the nation non-resist
ance, what would become of the armies of France?"

"I shall not teach non-resistance until we are at
peace," she said — "until there is not a German soldier
left in France. After that I shall teach acquiescence
and personal liberty."

I looked at her very seriously ; logic had no dwelling-
place within her tender and unhappy heart.

And what a hunting-ground was that heart for men
like Buckhurst! I could begin to read that mouse-
colored gentleman now, to follow, after a fashion, the
intricate policy which his insolent mind was shaping
— shaping in stealthy contempt for me and for this
young girl. Thus far I could divine the thoughts of
Mr. Buckhurst, but there were other matters to account
for. Why did he choose to spare my life when a word
would have sent me before the peloton of execution?
Why had he brought to me the fortune in diamonds
which he had stolen? Why did he eat humble -pie
before a young girl from whom he and his companions
had wrung the last penny? Why did he desire to go
to Morbihan and be received among the elect in the
Breton village of Paradise?

I said, abruptly : " So you are not going to denounce
me to the Prussian provost?"

He lifted his well - shaped head and gazed at the
Countess with an admirable pathos which seemed a
mute appeal for protection from brutality.

" That question is a needless one," said the Countess,
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THE GAME BEGINS

quietly. "It was a cruel one, also, Monsieur Scar
lett."

"I did not mean it as an offensive question," said I.
"I was merely reciting a fact, most creditable to Mr.
Buckhurst. Mon Dieu, madame, I am an officer of
Imperial Police, and I have lived to hear blunt ques
tions and blunter answers. And if it be true that
Monsieur Buckhurst desires to atone for — for what
has happened, then it is perfectly proper for me, even
as a prisoner myself, to speak plainly."

I meant this time to thoroughly convince Buckhurst
of my ability to gabble platitude. My desire that he
should view me as a typical gendarme was intense.

So I coughed solemnly behind my hand, knit my
eyebrows, and laid one finger alongside of my nose.

" Is it not my duty, as a guardian of national inter
ests, to point out to Mr. Buckhurst his honest errors?
Certainly it is, madame, and this is the proper time."

Turning pompously to Buckhurst, I fancied I could
almost detect a sneer on that inexpressive mask he
wore — at least I hoped I could, and I said, heavily:

"Monsieur, for a number of years there has passed
under our eyes here in France certain strange phe
nomena. Thousands of Frenchmen have, so to speak,
separated themselves from the rest of the nation.

"All the sentiments that the nation honors itself
by professing these other Frenchmen rebuke — the love
of country, public spirit, accord between citizens, so
cial repose, and respect for communal law and order —
these other Frenchmen regard as the hallucinations
of a nation of dupes.

" Separated by such unfortunate ideas from the na
tion within whose boundaries they live, they continue
to abuse, even to threaten, the society and the country
which gives them shelter.

" France is only a name to them ; they were born there,
107

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

they live there, they derive their nourishment from her
without gratitude. But France is nothing to them;
their mother-land is the Internationale !"

I was certain now that the shadow of a sneer had
settled in the corners of Buckhurst's thin lips.

"I do not speak of anarchists or of terrorists/' I
continued, nodding as though profoundly impressed
by my own sagacity. "I speak of socialists — that
dangerous society to which the cry of Karl Marx was
addressed with the warning, 'Socialists! Unite!'

" The government has reason to fear socialism, not
anarchy, for it will never happen in France, where the
passion for individual property is so general, that a
doctrine of brutal destruction could have the slightest
chance of success.

"But wait, here is the point, Monsieur Buckhurst.
Formerly the name of 'terrorist' was a shock to the
entire civilized world; it evoked the spectres of a year
that the world can never forget. And so our modern
reformers, modestly desiring to evade the inconven
iences of such memories among the people, call them
selves the 'Internationale.' Listen to them; they are
adroit, they blame and rebuke violence, they condemn
anarchy, they would not lay their hands on public or
individual property — no, indeed!

"Ah, madame, but you should hear them in their
own clubs, where the ladies and gentlemen of the gut
ters, the barriers, and the abattoirs discuss ' individual
property,' 'the tyranny of capital/ and similar sub
jects which no doubt they are peculiarly fitted to dis
cuss.

"Believe me, madame, the little coterie which you
represent is already the dupe and victim of this
terrible Internationale. Their leaders work their will
through you; a vast conspiracy against all social
peace is spread through your honest works of mercy.

108

THE GAME BEGINS

The time is coming when the whole world will rise to
•ombat this Internationale; and when the mask is
dragged from its benignant visage, there, grinning be
hind, will appear the same old 'Spectre Rouge/ torch
in one hand, gun in the other, squatting behind a
barricade of paving-blocks."

I wagged my head dolefully.

" I could not have rested had I not warned Mr. Buck-
hurst of this," I said, sentimentally.

Which was fairly well done, considering that I was
figuratively lamenting over the innocence of the most
accomplished scoundrel that ever sat in the supreme
council of the Internationale.

Buckhurst looked thoughtfully at the floor.

"If I thought," he murmured — "if I believed for one
instant — "

"Believe me, my dear sir," I said, "that you are
playing into the hands of the wickedest villains on
earth!"

"Your earnestness almost converts me," he said,
lifting his stealthy eyes.

The Countess appeared weary and perplexed.

"At all events," she said, "we must do nothing to
embarrass France now ; we must do nothing until this
frightful war is ended."

After a silence Buckhurst said, " But you will go to
Paradise, madame?"

"Yes," replied the Countess, listlessly.

Now, what in Heaven's name attracted that rogue
to Paradise?

VII

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

I TOOK my breakfast by the window, watching the
German soldiery cleaning up Morsbronn. For that
wonderful Teutonic administrative mania was already
manifesting itself while ruined houses still smoked;
method replaced chaos, order marched on the heels of
the Prussian rear-guard, which enveloped Morsbronn in
a whirlwind of Uhlans, and left it a silent, blackened
landmark in the August sunshine.

Soldiers in canvas fatigue-dress, wearing soft, round,
visorless caps, were removing the debris of the fatal
barricade; soldiers with shovel and hoe filled in the
trenches and raked the long, winding street clean of
all litter ; soldiers with trowel and mortar were perched
on shot -torn houses, mending chimneys and slated
roofs so that their officers might enjoy immunity from
rain and wind and defective flues.

In the court-yards and stables I could see cavalry
men in stable - jackets, whitewashing walls and out
buildings and ill-smelling stalls, while others dug shov
elfuls of slaked lime from wheelbarrows and spread
it through stable - yards and dirty alleys. Every
where quiet, method, order, prompt precision reigned;
I even noticed a big, red-fisted artilleryman tying up
tall, blue larkspurs, dahlias, and phlox in a trampled
garden, and he touched the ragged masses of bloom
with a tenderness peculiar to a flower-loving and sen-

IIO

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

timental people, whose ultimate ambition is a quart of
beer, a radish, and a green leaf overhead.

At the corners of the walls and blind alleys, pla
cards in French and German were posted, embody
ing regulations governing the village under Prussian
military rule. The few inhabitants of Morsbronn
who had remained in cellars during the bombard
ment shuffled up to read these notices, or to loiter stu
pidly, gaping at the Prussian eagles surmounting the
posters.

A soldier came in and started the fire in my fire
place. When he went out I drew my code-book from
my breeches - pocket and tossed it into the fire. After
it followed my commission, my memoranda, and every
scrap of writing. The diamonds I placed in the bosom
of my flannel shirt.

Toward one o'clock I heard the shrill piping of a
goat-herd, and I saw him, a pallid boy, clumping along
in his wooden shoes behind his two nanny-goats, while
the German soldiers, peasants themselves, looked after
him with curious sympathy.

A little later a small herd of cattle passed, driven to
pasture by a stolid Alsatian, who replied to the soldiers'
questions in German patois and shrugged his heavy
shoulders like a Frenchman.

A cock crowed occasionally from some near dung
hill; once I saw a cat serenely following the course of
a stucco wall, calm, perfectly self-composed, ignoring
the blandishments of the German soldiers, wrho called,
"Komm mitz! mitz!" and held out bits of sausage
and black bread.

A German ambulance surgeon arrived to see me in
the afternoon. The Countess was busy somewhere
with Buckhurst, who had come with news for her, and
the German surgeon's sharp double rap at the door
did not bring her, so I called out, "Entrez done!" and

III

THE MAIDS OP PARADISE

he stalked in, removing his fatigue-cap, which action
distinguished him from his brother officers.

He was a tall, well-built man, perfectly uniformed
in his double-breasted frocked tunic, blue-eyed, blond-
bearded, and immaculate of hand and face, a fine type
of man and a credit to any army.

After a brief examination he sat down and resumed
a very bad cigar, which had been smouldering between
his carefully kept fingers.

"Do you know/' he said, admiringly, "that I have
never before seen just such a wound. The spinal col
umn is not even grazed, and if, as I understand from
you, you suffered temporarily from complete paralysis
of the body below your waist, the case is not only in
teresting but even remarkable."

"Is the superficial lesion at all serious?" I asked.

"Not at all. As far as I can see the blow from the
bullet temporarily paralyzed the spinal cord. There
is no fracture, no depression. I do not see why you
should not walk if you desire to."

"When? Now?"

"Try it," he said, briefly.

I tried. Apart from a certain muscular weakness
and a great fatigue, I found it quite possible to stand,
even to move a few steps. Then I sat down again,
and was glad to do so.

The doctor was looking at my legs rather grimly,
and it suddenly flashed on me that I had dropped my
blanket and he had noticed my hussar's trousers.

"So," he said, "you are a military prisoner? I un
derstood from the provost marshal that you were a
civilian."

As he spoke Buckhurst appeared at the door, and
then sauntered in, quietly greeting the surgeon, who
looked around at the sound of his footsteps on the stone
floor. There was no longer a vestige of doubt in my

112

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

mind that Buckhurst was a German agent, or at least
that the Germans believed him to be in their pay. And
doubtless he was in their pay, but to whom he was
faithful nobody could know with any certainty.

"How is our patient, doctor?" he asked.

" Convalescent/' replied the doctor, shortly, as though
not exactly relishing the easy familiarity of this pale-
eyed gentleman in gray.

"Can he travel 'to-day?" inquired Buckhurst, with
out apparent interest.

"Before he travels," said the officer, "it might be
well to find out why he wears part of a hussar uniform."

"I've explained that to the provost," observed Buck
hurst, examining his well-kept finger-nails. "And I
have a pass for him also — if he is in a fit condition to
travel."

The officer gave him a glance full of frank dislike,
adjusted his sabre, pulled on his white gloves, and,
bowing very slightly to me, marched straight out of
the room and down the stairs without taking any notice
of Buckhurst. The latter looked after the officer, then
his indifferent eyes returned to me. Presently he sat
down and produced a small slip of paper, which he very
carefully twisted into a cocked hat.

"I suppose you doubt my loyalty to France/' he
said, intent on his bit of paper.

Then, logically continuing my r61e of the morning,
I began to upbraid him for a traitor and swear that I
would not owe my salvation to him, and all the while
he was calmly transforming his paper from one toy
into another between deft, flat fingers.

"You are unjust and a trifle stupid," he said. "I
am paid by Prussia for information which I never give.
But I have the entre of their lines. I do it for the sake
of the Internationale. The Internationale has a few
people in its service. . . . And it pays them well."
s 113

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

He looked squarely at me as he said this. I almost
trembled with delight: the man undervalued me, he
had taken me at my own figure, and now, holding me
in absolute contempt, he was going to begin on me.

"Scarlett," he said, "what does the government pay
you?"

I began to protest in a torrent of patriotism and sen
timentality. He watched me impassively while I called
Heaven to witness and proclaimed my loyalty to France,
ending through sheer breathlessness in a maundering,
tearful apotheosis where mixed metaphors jostled each
other — the government, the Emperor, and the French
flag, consecrated in blood — and finally, calling his at
tention to the fact that twenty centuries had once looked
down on this same banner, I collapsed in my chair and
gave him his chance.

He took it. With subtle flattery he recognized in me
a powerful arm of a corrupt Empire, which Empire he
likened to the old man who rode Sindbad the Sailor.
He admitted my noble loyalty to France, pointing out,
however, that devotion to the Empire was not devotion
to France, but the contrary. Skilfully he pictured the
unprepared armies of the Empire, huddled along the
frontier, seized and rent to fragments, one by one;
adroitly he painted the inevitable ending, the armies
that remained cut off and beaten in detail.

And as I listened I freely admitted to myself that I
had undervalued him; that he was no crude Belleville
orator, no sentimental bathos - peddling reformer, no
sansculotte with brains ablaze, squalling for indis
criminate slaughter and pillage ; he was a cool student
in crime, taking no chances that he was not forced to
take, a calm, adroit, methodical observer, who had es
tablished a theory and was carefully engaged in prov
ing it.

"Scarlett," he said, in English, "let us come to the
114

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

point. I am a mercenary American ; you are an Amer
ican mercenary, paid by the French government. You
care nothing for that government or for the country;
you would drop both to-day if your pay ceased. You
and I are outsiders ; we are in the world to watch our
chances. And our chance is here."

He unfolded the creased bit of paper and spread it
out on his knees, smoothing it thoughtfully.

"What do I care for the Internationale?" he asked,
blandly. " I am high in its councils ; Karl Marx knows
less about the Internationale than do I. As for Prussia
and France — bah! — it's a dog-fight to me, and I lack
even the interest to bet on the German bull-dog.

" You will know me better some day, and when you
do you will know that I am a man who has determined
to get rich if I have to set half of France against the
other half and sack every bank in the Empire.

"And now the time is coming when the richest city
in Europe will be put to the sack. You don't believe
it? Yet you shall live to see Paris besieged, and you
shall live to see Paris surrender, and you shall live to
see the Internationale rise up from nowhere, seize the
government by the throat, and choke it to death under
the red flag of universal — ahem! . . . license" — the
faintest sneer came into his pallid face — "and every
city of France shall be a commune, and we shall pass
from city to city, leisurely, under the law — our laws,
which we will make — and I pity the man among us
who cannot place his millions in the banks of England
and America!"

He began to worry the creased bit of paper again,
stealthy eyes on the floor.

"The revolt is as certain as death itself," he said.
" The Society of the Internationale honeycombs Europe
— your police archives show you that — and I tell you
that, of the two hundred thousand solders of the na-

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

tional guard in Paris today, ninety per cent, are ours
— ours, soul and body. You don't believe it? Wait!

"Yet, for a moment, suppose I am right? Where
are the government forces? Who can stop us from
working our will? Not the fragments of beaten and
exhausted armies! Not the thousands of prisoners
which you will see sent into captivity across the Rhine !
What has the government to lean on — a government
discredited, impotent, beaten! What in the world can
prevent a change, an uprising, a revolution? Why,
even if there were no such thing as the Internationale
and its secret Central Committee — to which I have the
honor to belong" — and here his sneer was frightful —
"I tell you that before a conquering German army
had recrossed the Rhine this land of chattering apes
would be tearing one another for very want of a uni
versal scape-goat.

"But that is exactly where we come into the affair.
We find the popular scape-goat and point him out —
the government, my friend. And all we have to do is
to let the mob loose, stand back, and count profits."

He leaned forward in his chair, idly twisting his
crumpled bit of paper in one hand.

" I am not fool enough to believe that our reign will
last," he said. "It may last a month, two months,
perhaps three. Then we leaders will be at one another's
throats — and the game is up! It's always so — mob
rule can't last — it never has lasted and never will. But
the prudent man will make hay before the brief sun
shine is ended; I expect to economize a little, and set
aside enough — well, enough to make it pay, you see."

He looked up at me quietly.

"I am perfectly willing to tell you this, even if you
used your approaching liberty to alarm the entire coun
try, from the Emperor to the most obscure scullion in
the Tuileries. Nothing can stop us now, nothing in

116

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

the world can prevent our brief reign. Because these
things are certain, the armies of France will be beaten
— they are already beaten. Paris will hold out; Paris
will fall; and with Paris down goes France! And as
sure as the sun shall rise on a conquered people, so
sure shall rise that red spectre we call the Inter
nationale."

The man astonished me. He put into words a
prophecy which had haunted me from the day that
war was declared — a prophetic fear which had haunted
men higher up in the service of the Empire — thinking
men who knew what war meant to a country whose
government was as rotten as its army was unprepared,
whose political chiefs were as vain, incompetent, igno
rant, and weak as were the chiefs of its brave army —
an army riddled with politics, weakened by intrigue
and neglect — an army used ignobly, perverted, cheated,
lied to, betrayed, abandoned.

That, for once, Buckhurst spoke the truth as he
foresaw it, I did not question. That he was right in
his infernal calculations, I was fearsomely persuaded.
And now the game had advanced, and I must display
what cards I had, or pretended to have.

"Are you trying to bribe me?" I blurted out, weakly.

"Bribe you," he repeated, in contempt. "No. If
the prospect does not please you, I have only to say
a word to the provost marshal."

" Wouldn't that injure your prospects with the Coun
tess?" I said, with fat-brained cunning. "You cannot
betray me and hope for her friendship."

He glanced up at me, measured my mental capacity,
then nodded.

"I can't force you that way," he admitted.

" He's bound to get to Paradise. Why?" I wondered,
and said, aloud :

"What do you want of me?"
117

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" I want immunity from the secret police, Mr. Scarlett. "

"Where?"

"Wherever I may be."

"In Morbihan?"

"Yes."

"In Paradise?"

"Yes."

I was silent for a moment, then, looking him in the
eye, "What do I gain?"

Ah, the cat was out now. Buckhurst did not move,
but I saw the muscles of his face relax, and he drew a
deep, noiseless breath.

"Well," he said, coolly, "you may keep those dia
monds, for one thing."

Presently I said, "And for the next thing?"

"You are high-priced, Mr. Scarlett," he observed.

"Oh, very," .1 said, with that offensive, swaggering
menace in my voice which is peculiar to the weak
criminal the world over.

So I asserted myself and scowled at him and told
him I was no fool and taunted him with my impor
tance to his schemes and said I was not born yesterday,
and that if Paris was to be divided I knew what part
I wanted and meant to stand no nonsense from him
or anybody.

All of which justified the opinion he had already
formed of me, and justified something else, too — his
faith in his own eloquence, logic, and powers of per
suasion. Not that I meant to make his mistake and
undervalue him; he was an intelligent, capable, re
markable criminal — with the one failing — an over
confident contempt of all men.

"There is one thing I want to ask you," said I.
"Why do you desire to go to Paradise?"

He did not answer me at once, and I studied his
passionless profile as he gazed out of the window.

118

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

"Well," he said, slowly, "I shall not tell you."

"Why not?" I demanded.

" — But I'll say this," he continued. " I want you to
come to Paradise with me and that fool of a woman.
I want you to report to your government that you are
watching the house in Paradise, and that you are
hoping to catch me there."

"How can I do that?" I asked. "As soon as the
government caich'es the Countess de Vassart she will
be sent across the frontier."

" Not if you inform your government that you desire
to use her and the others as a bait to draw me to Para
dise."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" I asked, thoughtfully.

"Yes," said Buckhurst, "that's it."

"And you do not desire to inform me why you are
going to stay in Paradise?"

"Don't you think you'll be clever enough to find
out?" he asked, with a sneer.

I did think so; more than that, I let him see that
I thought so, and he was contented with my con
ceit.

"One thing more," I said, blustering a little, "I want
to know whether you mean any harm to that innocent
girl?"

"Who? The Countess? What do you mean? Harm
her? Do you think I waste my thoughts on that little
fool? She is not a factor in anything — except that
just now I'm using her and mean to use her house in
Paradise."

"Haven't you stripped her of every cent she has?"
I asked. "What do you want of her now?" And I
added something about respect due to women.

"Oh yes, of course," he said, with a vague glance at
the street below. "You need not worry; nobody's
going to hurt her — He suddenly shifted his eyes to

119

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

me. "You haven't taken a fancy to her, have you?"
he asked, in faint disgust.

I saw that he thought me weak enough for any sen
timent, even a noble one.

" If you think it pays/' he muttered, " marry her and
beat her, for all I care ; but don't play loose with me, my
friend; as a plain matter of business it won't pay you."

"Is that a threat?" I asked, in the bullying tone of a
born coward.

" No, not a threat, a plain matter of profit and loss,
a simple business proposition. For, suppose you be
tray me — and, by a miracle, live to boast of it? What
is your reward? A colonelcy in the Military Police
with a few thousand francs salary, and, in your old
age, a pension which might permit you to eat meat
twice a week. Against that, balance what I offer —
free play in a helpless city, and no one to hinder you
from salting awav as many millions as you can carry
off!"

Presently I said, weakly, " And what, once more, is
the service you ask of me?"

"I ask you to notify the government that you are
watching Paradise, that you do not arrest the Countess
and Dr. Delmont because you desire to use them as a
bait to catch me."

"Is that all?"

"That is all. We will start for Paris together; I
shall leave you before we get there. But I'll see you
later in Paradise."

" You refuse to tell me why you wish to stay at the
house in Paradise?"

" Yes, ... I refuse. And, by-the-way, the Countess
is to think that I have presented myself in Paris and
that the government has pardoned me."

" You are willing to believe that I will not have you
arrested?"

120

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

" I don't ask you to promise. If you are fool enough
to try it — try it! But I'm not going to give you the
chance in Paris — only in Paradise."

"You don't require my word of honor?"

"Word of — what? Well — no; . . . it's a form I can
dispense with."

"But how can you protect yourself?"

" If all the protection I had was a ' word of honor, '
I'd be in a different business, my friend."

"And you are willing to risk me, and you are per
fectly capable of taking care of yourself?"

"I think so," he said, quietly.

"Trusting to my common-sense as a business man
not to be fool enough to cut my own throat by cutting
yours?" I persisted.

"Exactly, and trusting to a few other circumstances,
the details of which I beg permission to keep to my
self," he said, with a faint sneer.

He rose and walked to the window ; at the same mo
ment I heard the sound of wheels below.

"I believe that is our carriage/' he said. "Are you
ready to start, Mr. Scarlett?"

"Now?" I exclaimed.

"Why not? I'm not in the habit of dawdling over
anything. Come, sir, there is nothing very serious
the matter with you, is there?"

I said nothing ; he knew, of course, the exact state of
the wound I had received, that the superficial injury
was of no account, that the shock had left me sound
as a silver franc though a trifle weak in the hips and
knees.

"Is the Countess de Vassart to go with us?" I asked,
trying to find a reason for these events which were
succeeding one another too quickly to suit me.

He gave me an absent-minded nod; a moment later
the Countess entered. She had mended her black

121

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

crepe gown where I tore it when I hung in the shadow
of death under the battlements of La Trappe. She
wore black gloves, a trifle shabby, and carried a worn
satchel in her hands.

Buckhurst aided me to rise, the Countess threw my
hussar jacket over my shoulders and buttoned it; I
felt the touch of her cool, little fingers on my hot, un-
shaved throat.

"I congratulate you on your convalescence," she
said, in a low voice. "Lean on me, monsieur."

My head swam; hips and knees were without
strength; she aided me down the stairway and out
into the pale sunshine, where stood the same mud-
splashed, rusty vehicle which had brought us hither
from La Trappe.

The Countess had only a satchel and a valise ; Buck-
hurst's luggage comprised a long, flat, steel-bound box,
a satchel, and a parcel. I had nothing. My baggage,
which I had left in Morsbronn, had without doubt
been confiscated long since ; my field - glasses, sabre,
and revolver were gone; I had only what clothes I
was wearing — a dirty, ragged, gray-blue flannel shirt,
my muddy jacket, scarlet riding-breeches, and officer's
boots. But in one of the hip-pockets of my breeches
I carried a fortune in diamonds.

As I stood beside the carriage, wondering how I
was going to get in, I felt an arm slip under my neck
and another slide gently under my knees, and Buck-
hurst lifted me. Beneath the loose, gray coat-sleeves
his bent arms were rigid as steel; his supple frame
straightened; he moved a step forward and laid me
on the shabby cushions.

The Covmtess looked at me, turned and glanced up
at her smoke-blackened house, where a dozen Prussian
soldiers leaned from the lower windows smoking their
long porcelain pipes and the provost marshal stood in

12?.

the doorway, helmeted, spurred, immaculate from golden
cheek-guard to the glittering tip of his silver scabbard.
An Uhlan, dismounted, stood on guard below the steps,
his lance at a "present," the black-and-white swallow-
tailed pennon drooping from the steel point.

The Countess bent her pretty head under its small
black hat; the provost's white-gloved hand flew to his
aelmet peak.

"Fear nothing, madame," he said, pompously.
"Your house and its contents are safe until you re
turn. This village is now German soil."

The Countess looked at him steadily, gravely.

" I thank you, monsieur, but frontiers are not changed
in a day."

But she was mistaken. Alsace henceforth must
be written Elsass, and the devastated province called
Lothringen was never again to be written Lorraine.

The Countess stepped into the carriage and took her
place beside me; Buckhurst followed, seating himself
opposite us, and the Alsatian driver mounted to the
box.

"Your safe-conduct carries you to the French out
posts at Saverne," said the provost, dryly. "If there
are no longer French outposts at Saverne, you may
demand a vise for your pass and continue south to
Strasbourg."

Buckhurst half turned towards the driver. "Allez,"
he said, quietly, and the two gaunt horses moved on.

There was a chill in the white sunshine — the first
touch of autumn. Not a trace of the summer's balm
remained in the air; every tree on the mountain out
lines stood out sharp-cut in the crystalline light; the
swift little streams that followed the road ran clear
above autumn-brown pebbles and golden sands.

Distant beach woods were turning yellow; yellow
gorse lay like patches of sunshine on the foot-hills;

123

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

oceans of yellow grain belted the terraced vineyards.
Here and there long, velvet}7, black strips cut the green
and gold, the trail of fire which had scarred the grain
belts ; here and there pillars of smoke floated, dominat
ing blue \voodlands, where the flames of exploding
shells had set the forest afire.

Already from the plateau I could see a streak of
silver reflecting the intense blue sky — the Rhine, upon
whose westward cliffs France had mounted guard but
yesterday.

And now the Rhine was lost, and the vast granite
bastions of the Vosges looked out upon a sea of German
forests. Above the Col du Pigeonnier the semaphore
still glistened, but its signals now travelled eastward,
and strange flags fluttered on its invisible halliards.
And every bridge was guarded by helmeted men who
halted us, and every tunnel was barred by mounted
Uhlans who crossed their lances to the ominous shout :
"Werda? On ne basse bas!" The Vosges were lit
erally crawling with armed men!

Driving slowly along the base of the hills, I had
glimpses of rocky defiles which pierced the moun
tain wall; and through every defile poured infantry
and artillery in unbroken columns, and over every
mountain pass streamed endless files of horsemen.
Railroad tunnels were choked with slowly moving
trains piled high writh artillery; viaducts glistened
with helmets all moving westward ; every hillock, every
crag, every height had its group of tiny dark dots or
its solitary Uhlan.

Very far away I heard cannon — so far away that the
hum of the cannonade was no louder than the panting
of our horses on the white hill-road, and I could hear
it only when the carriage stopped at intervals.

"Do we take the railroad at Saverne?" I asked at
last. "Is there a railroad there?"

124

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

Buckhurst looked up at me. "It is rather strange
that a French officer should not know the railroads in
his own country/' he said.

I was silent. I was not the only officer whose shame
was his ignorance of the country he had sworn to de
fend. Long before the war broke out, every German
regimental officer, commissioned and non-commissioned,
carried a better map of France than could be found in
France itself. And the French government had issued
to us a few wretched charts of Germany, badly printed,
full of gross errors, one or two maps to a regiment,
and a few scattered about among the corps headquar
ters — among officers who did not even know the general
topography of their own side of the Rhine.

" Is there a railroad at Saverne?" I repeated, sullenly.

"You will take a train at Strasbourg," replied Buck-
hurst.

"And then?"

"And then you go to Avricourt," he said. "I sup
pose at least you know where that is?"

"It is on the route to Paris," said I, keeping my
temper. "Are we going direct to Paris?"

"Madame de Vassart desires to go there," he said,
glancing at her with a sort of sneaking deference which
he now assumed in her presence.

"It is true," said the Countess, turning to me. "I
wish to rest for a little while before I go to Point Para
dise. I am curiously tired of poverty, Monsieur Scar
lett," she added, and held out her shabby gloves with
a gesture of despair ; " I am reduced to very little — I
have scarcely anything left, . . . and I am weak
enough to long for the scent of the winter violets on
the boulevards."

With a faint smile she touched the bright hair above
her brow, where the wind had flung a gleaming tendril
over her black veil.

125

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

As I looked at her, I marvelled that she had found
it possible to forsake all that was fair and lovely in
life, to dare ignore caste, to deliberately face ridicule
and insult and the scornful anger of her own kind,
for the sake of the filthy scum festering in the sink
holes of the world.

There are brave priests who go among lepers, there
are brave missionaries who dispute with the devil over
the souls of half-apes in the Dark Continent. Under
the Cross they do the duty they were bred to.

But she was bred to other things. Her lungs were
never made to breathe the polluted atmosphere of the
proletariat, yelping and slavering in their kennels;
her strait young soul was never born for communion
with the crooked souls of social pariahs, with the
stunted and warped intelligence of fanatics, with the
crippled but fierce minds which dominated the Inter
nationale.

Not that such contact could ever taint her; but it
might break her heart one day.

"You will think me very weak and cowardly to
seek shelter and comfort at such a time," she said,
raising her gray eyes to me. " But I feel as though all
my strength had slipped away from me. I mean to
go back to my work ; I only need a few days of quiet
among familiar scenes — pleasant scenes that I knew
when I was young. I think that if I could only see
a single care-free face — only one among all those who
— who once seemed to love me — "

She turned her head* quickly and stared out at the
tall pines which fringed the dusty road.

Buckhurst blinked at her.

It was late in the afternoon when the last Prussian
outpost hailed us. I had been asleep for hours, but
was awakened by the clatter of horses, and I opened

126

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

my eyes to see a dozen Uhlans come cantering up
and surround our carriage.

After a long discussion with Buckhurst and a rigid
scrutiny of our permit to pass the lines, the slim officer
in command vised the order. One of the troopers tied
a white handkerchief to his lance-tip, wheeled his wiry
horse, and, followed by a trumpeter, trotted off ahead
of us. Our carriage creaked after them, slowly moving
to the summit of a hill over which the road rose.

Presently, very far away on the gray-green hill- side,
I saw a bit of white move. The Uhlan flourished his
lance from which the handkerchief fluttered ; the trump
eter set his trumpet to his lips and blew the parley.

One minute, two, three, ten passed. Then, distant
galloping sounded along the road, nearer, nearer;
three horsemen suddenly wheeled into view ahead —
French dragoons, advancing at a solid gallop. The
Uhlan with the flag spurred forward to meet them,
saluted, wheeled his horse, and came back.

Paid mercenary that I was, my heart began to beat
very fast at sight of those French troopers with their
steel helmets bound with leopard-hide and their horse
hair plumes whipping the breeze, and their sun-bronzed,
alert faces and pleasant eyes. I had had enough of
the supercilious, near-sighted eyes of the Teuton.

As for the young Countess, she sat there smiling,
while the clumsy dragoons came rattling up, beaming
at my red riding-breeches, and all saluting the Count
ess with a cheerful yet respectful swagger that touched
me deeply as 1 noted the lines of hunger in their lean
jaws.

And now the brief ceremony was over and our rusty
vehicle moved off down the hill, while the Uhlans turned
bridle and clattered off, scattering showers of muddy
gravel in the rising wind.

The remains of our luncheon lay in a basket under
127

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

our seat — plenty of bread and beef, and nearly a quart
of red wine.

"Call the escort — they are starving," I said to Buck-
hurst.

"I think not," he said, coolly. "I may eat again."

"Call the escort!" I repeated, sharply.

Buckhurst looked up at me in silence, then glanced
warily at the Countess.

A few moments later the gaunt dragoons were munch
ing dry bread as they rode, passing the bottle from
saddle to saddle.

We were ascending another hill; the Countess, anx
ious to stretch her limbs, had descended to the road,
and now walked ahead, one hand holding her hat,
which the ever-freshening wind threatened.

Buckhurst bent towards me and said: "My friend,
your suggestion that we deprive ourselves to feed those
cavalrymen was a trifle peremptory in tone. I am
wondering how much your tone will change when we
reach Paris."

"You will see," said I.

"Oh, of course 111 see," he said, . . . "and so will

you."

"I thought you had means to protect yourself," I
observed.

" I have. Besides, I think you would rather keep
those diamonds than give them up for the pleasure of
playing me false."

I laughed in a mean manner, which reassured him.
"Look here," said I, "if I were to make trouble for
you in Paris I'd be the most besotted fool in France,
and you know it."

He nodded.

And so I should have been. For there was something
vastly more important to do than to arrest John Buck
hurst for theft ; and before I suffered a hair of his sleek,

128

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

gray head to come to harm I'd have hung myself for a
hopeless idiot. Oh no ; my friend John Buckhurst had
such colossal irons in the fire that I knew it would take
many more men as strong as he to lift them out again.
And I meant to know what those irons were for, and
who were the gentlemen to aid him lift them. So not
only must Buckhurst remain free as a lively black
cricket in a bog, but he must not be frightened if I could
help it.

And to that end I leered at him knowingly, and
presently bestowed a fatuous wink upon him.

It was unpleasant for me to do this, for it implied that
I was his creature; and, in spite of the remorseless re
quirements of my profession, I have an inborn hatred
of falsehood in any shape. To lie in the line of duty
is one of the disagreeable necessities of certain pro
fessions; and mine is not the only one nor the least
respectable. The art of war is to deceive; strategy
is the art of demonstrating falsehood plausibly; there
is nothing respectable in the military profession except
the manual — which is now losing importance in the
eyes of advanced theorists. All men are liars — a few
are unselfish ones.

"You have given me your word of honor," said
Buckhurst.

"Have I?" I had not, and he knew it. I hoped I
might not be forced to.

"Haven't you?" asked Buckhurst.

"You sneered at my word of honor," I said, with all
the spite of a coward; "now you don't get it."

He no longer wanted it, but all he said was : " Don't
take unnecessary offence; you're smart enough to
know when you're well off."

I dozed towards sunset, waking when the Countess
stepped back into the carriage and seated herself by
9 129

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

my side. Then, after a little, I slept again. And it
was nearly dark when I was awakened by the startling-
whistle of a locomotive. The carriage appeared to be
moving slowly between tall rows of poplars and tele
graph-poles ; a battery of artillery was clanking along
just ahead. In the dark southern sky a luminous haze
hung.

" The lights of Strasbourg/' whispered the Countess,
as I sat up, rubbing my hot eyes.

I looked for Buckhurst; his place was empty.

"Mr. Buckhurst left us at the railroad crossing,"
she said.

"Left us!"

"Yes! He boarded a train loaded with wounded.
. . . He had business to transact in Colmar before
he presented himself to the authorities in Paris. . . .
And we are to go by way of Avricourt."

So Buckhurst had already begun to execute his
programme. But the abrupt, infernal precision of the
man jarred me unpleasantly.

In the dark I felt cautiously for my diamonds; they
were safe in my left hip-pocket.

The wind had died out, and a fine rain began to filter
down through a mist which lay over the flat plain as
we entered the suburbs of Strasbourg.

Again arid again we were halted by sentinels, then
permitted to proceed in the darkness, along deserted
avenues lighted by gas-jets burning in tall bronze
lamp-posts through a halo of iridescent fog.

We passed deserted suburban villas, blank stretches
of stucco walls enclosing gardens, patches of cabbages,
thickets of hop-poles to which the drenched vines clung
fantastically, and scores of abandoned houses, shutters
locked, blinds drawn.

High to the east the ramparts of the city loomed,
130

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

set at regular distances with electric lights; from the
invisible citadel rockets were rising, spraying the fog
with jewelled flakes, crumbling to golden powder in the
starless void above.

Presently our carriage stopped before a tremen
dous mass of masonry pierced by an iron, arched gate,
through which double files of farm-wagons were roll
ing, escorted by customs guards and marines.

"No room! no room!" shouted the soldiers. "This
is the Porte de Pierre. Go to the Porte de Sa-
verne!"

So we passed on beneath the bastions, skirting the
ramparts to the Porte de Saverne, where, after a ha
rangue, the gate guards admitted us, and we entered
Strasbourg in the midst of a crush of vehicles. At the
railroad station hundreds of cars choked the tracks;
loaded freight trains stalled in the confusion, trains
piled with ammunition and provisions, trains crowd
ed with horses and cattle and sheep, filling the air
with melancholy plaints; locomotives backing and
whistling, locomotives blowing off deafening blasts of
steam; gongs sounding, bells ringing, station-masters'
trumpets blowing; and, above all, the immense clam
or of human voices.

The Countess and our Alsatian driver helped me
to the platform. I looked around with dread at the
throng, being too weak to battle for a foothold ; but the
brave Alsatian elbowed a path for me, and the Countess
warded off the plunging human cattle, and at length
I found myself beside the cars where line-soldiers stood
guard at every ten paces and gendarmes stalked about,
shoving the frantic people into double files.

" Last train for Paris!" bawled an official in gilt and
blue; and to the anxious question of the Countess
he shook his head, saying, "There is no room, ma-
dame ; it is utterly impossible — pardon, I cannot discuss

131

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

anything now ; the Prussians are signalled at Ostwald,
and their shells may fall here at any moment."

" If that is so," I said, " this lady cannot stay here!"

" I can't help that!" he shouted, starting off down the
platform.

I caught the sleeve of a captain of gendarmerie who
was running to enter a first-class compartment.

"Eh — what do you want, monsieur?" he snapped,
in surprise. Then, as I made him a sign, he regarded
me with amazement. I had given the distress signal
of the secret police.

"Try to make room for this lady in your compart
ment," I said.

" Willingly, monsieur. Hasten, madame ; the train is
already moving!" and he tore open the compartment
door and swung the Countess to the car platform.

I suppose she thought I was to follow, for when the
officer slammed the compartment door she stepped to
the window and tried to open it.

" Quick!" she cried to the guard, who had just locked
the door; "help that officer in! He is wounded — can't
you see he is wounded?"

The train was gliding along the asphalt platform;
I hobbled beside the locked compartment, where she
stood at the window.

"Will you unlock that door?" said the Countess to
the guard. "I wish to leave the train!"

The cars were rolling a little faster than I could move
along.

The Countess leaned from the open window ; through
the driving rain her face in the lamp-light was pitifully
white. I made a last effort and caught up with her car.

"A safe journey, madame," I stammered, catching
at the hand she held out and brushing the shabby-
gloved fingers with my lips.

"I shall never forgive this wanton self-sacrifice,"
132

IKeproduced by permission of Guupil & Co., of Paris

"SISTERS OF CHARITY WERE GIVING FIRST AID"

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

she said, unsteadily. Then the car rolled silently past
me, swifter, swifter, and her white face faded from my
sight. Yet still I stood there, bareheaded, in the rain,
while the twin red lamps on the rear car grew smaller
and smaller, until they, too, were shut out in the closing
curtains of the fog.

As I turned away into the lighted station a hospital
train from the north glided into the yard and stopped.
Soldiers immediately started carrying out the wounded
and placing them in rows on mattresses ranged along
the walls of the passenger depot; sisters of charity,
hovering over the mutilated creatures, were already
giving first aid to the injured ; policemen kept the crowd
from trampling the dead and dying ; gendarmes began
to clear the platforms, calling out sharply, " No more
trains to-night! Move on! This platform is for gov
ernment officials only!"

Through the scrambling mob a file of wounded tot
tered, escorted by police; women were forced back and
pushed out into the street, only to be again menaced by
galloping military ambulances arriving, accompanied
by hussars. The confusion grew into a tumult ; men
struggled and elbowed for a passage to the platforms,
women sobbed and cried ; through the uproar the treble
wail of terrified children broke out.

Jostled, shoved, pulled this way and that, I felt that
I was destined to go down under the people's feet, and
I don't know what would have become of me had not a
violent push sent me against the door of the telegraph
office. The door gave way, and I fell on my knees,
staggered to my feet, and crept out once more to the
platform.

The station-master passed, a haggard gentleman
in rumpled uniform and gilt cap; and as he left the
office by the outer door the heavy explosion of a ram
part cannon shook the station.

133

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Can you get me to Paris?" I asked.

" Quick, then," he muttered ; " this way — lean on me,
monsieur! I am trying to send another train out —
but Heaven alone knows! Quick, this way!"

The glare of a locomotive's headlight dazzled me;
I made towards it, clinging to the arm of the station-
master; the ground under my feet rocked with the
shock of the siege-guns. Suddenly a shell fell and
burst in the yard outside; there was a cry, a rush of
trainmen, a gendarme shouting; then the piercing
alarm notes of locomotives, squealing like terrified
leviathans.

The train drawn up along the platform gave a jerk
and immediately moved out towards the open coun
try, compartment doors swinging wide, trainmen and
guards running alongside, followed by a mob of fren
zied passengers, who leaped into empty compartments,
flinging satchels and rugs to the four winds. Crash!
A shell fell through the sloping roof of the platform
and blew up. Through the white cloud and brilliant
glare I saw a porter, wheeling boxes and trunks, fall,
buried under an avalanche of baggage, and a sister of
charity throw up her arms as though to shield her face
from the fragments.

A car, doors swinging wide, glided past me ; I caught
the rail and fell forward into a compartment. The
cushions of the seats were afire, and a policeman was
hammering out the sparks with naked fists.

I was too weak to aid him. Presently he hurled the
last burning cushion from the open door and leaped
out into the train -yard, where red and green lamps
glowed and the brilliant flare of bursting shells lighted
the fog. By this time the train was moving swiftly;
the car windows shook with the thunder from the ram
parts under which we were passing; then came inky
darkness — a tunnel — then a rush of mist and wind

134

A STRUGGLE FORESHADOWED

from the open door as we swept out into the coun
try.

Passengers clinging to the platforms now made their
way into the compartment where I lay almost senseless,
and soon the little place was crowded, and somebody
slammed the door.

Then the flying locomotive, far ahead, shrieked,
and the train leaped, rushing forward into the unknown.
Blackness, stupefying blackness, outside; inside, un
seen, the huddled passengers, breathing heavily with
sudden stifled sobs, or the choked, indrawn breath of
terror; but not a word, not a quaver of human voices;
peril strangled speech as our black train flew onward
through the night.

VIII

A MAN TO LET

THE train which bore me out of the arc of the
Prussian fire at Strasbourg passed in between the
fortifications of Paris the next morning about eleven
o'clock. Ten minutes later I was in a closed cab on
my way to the headquarters of the Imperial Military
Police, temporarily housed in the Luxembourg Palace.

The day was magnificent; sunshine flooded the
boulevards, and a few chestnut - trees in the squares
had already begun to blossom for the second time in
the season ; there seemed to be no prophecy of autumn
in sky or sunlight.

The city, as I saw it from the open window of my cab,
appeared to be in a perfectly normal condition. There
were, perhaps, a few more national-guard soldiers on
the streets, a few more brightly colored posters, notices,
and placards on the dead walls, but the life of the city
itself had not changed at all; the usual crowds filled
the boulevards, the usual street cries sounded, the
same middle-aged gentlemen sat in front of the cafes
reading the same daily papers, the same waiters served
them the same drinks; rows of cabs were drawn up
where cabs are always to be found, and the same police
men dawdled in gossip with the same flower-girls.
I caught the scent of early winter violets in the fresh
Parisian breeze.

Was this the city that Buckhurst looked upon as
already doomed?

136

A MAN TO LET

On the marble bridge gardeners were closing up the
morning flower-market; blue-bloused men with jointed
hose sprinkled the asphalt in front of the Palais de Jus
tice; students strolled under the trees from the School
of Medicine to the Sorbonne ; the Luxembourg fountain
tossed its sparkling sheets of spray among the lotus.

All this I saw, yet a sinister foreboding oppressed
me, and I could not shake it off even in this bright
city where September was promising only a new lease
of summer and the white spikes of chestnut blossoms
hummed with eager bees.

Physically I felt well enough ; the cramped sleep in
the dark compartment, far from exhausting me, had
not only rested me, but had also brought me an appetite
which I meant to satisfy as soon as might be. As for
my back, it was simply uncomfortable, but all effects
of the shock had disappeared — unless this heavy mental
depression was due to it.

My cab was now entering the Palace of the Luxem
bourg by the great arch facing the Rue de Tournon;
the line sentinels halted us; I left the cab, crossed the
parade in front of the guard-house, turned to the right,
and climbed the stairs straight to my own quarters,
which were in the west wing of the palace, and consisted
of a bedroom, a working cabinet, and a dressing-room.

But I did not enter my door or even glance at it; I
continued straight on, down the corridor to a door,
on the ground-glass panes of which was printed in
red lettering:

HEADQUARTERS

IMPERIAL MILITARY POLICE

SAFE DEPOSIT

137

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The sentinel interrogated me for form's sake, although
he knew me; I entered, passed rapidly along the face
of the steel cage behind which some officers sat on high
stools, writing, and presented myself at the guichet
marked, "Foreign Division."

There was no military clerk in attendance there, and,
to my surprise, the guichet was closed.

However, a very elegant officer strolled up to the
guichet as I laid my bag of diamonds on the glass shelf,
languidly unlocked the steel window-gate, and picked
up the bag of jewels.

The officer was Mornac, the Emperor's alter ego, or
ame damnde, who had taken over the entire department
the very day I left Paris for the frontier. Officially, I
could not recognize him until I presented myself to
Colonel Jarras with my report ; so I saluted his uniform,
standing at attention in my filthy clothes, awaiting
the usual question and receipt.

"Name and number?" inquired Mornac, indolently.

I gave both.

"You desire to declare?"

I enumerated the diamonds, and designated them as
those lately stolen from the crucifix of Louis XI.

Mornac handed me a printed certificate of deposit,
opened a compartment in the safe, and tossed in the
bag without sealing it. And, as I stood waiting, he
lighted a scented cigarette, glanced over at me, puffed
once or twice, and finally dismissed me with a dis
courteous nod.

I went, because he was Mornac; I thought that I
was entitled to a bureau receipt, but could scarcely
demand one from the chief of the entire department
who had taken over the bureau solely in order to reform
it, root and branch. Doubtless his curt dismissal of
me without the customary receipt and his failure to
seal the bag were two of his reforms.

138

A MAN TO LET

I limped off past the glittering steel cage, thankful
that the jewels were safe, turned into the corridor, and
hastened back to my own rooms.

To tear off my rags, bathe, shave, and dress in a light
suit of civilian clothes took me longer than usual, for
I was a trifle lame.

Bath and clean clothes ought to have cheered me;
but the contrary was the case, and I sat down to a
breakfast brought by a palace servant, and ate it
gloomily, thinking of Buckhurst, and the Countess,
and of Morsbronn, and of the muddy dead lying under
the rifle smoke below my turret window.

I thought, too, of that astonishing conspiracy which
had formed under the very shadow of the imperial
throne, and through which already the crucifix and
diamonds of Louis XL had been so nearly lost to France.

Who besides Buckhurst was involved ? How far had
Colonel Jarras gone in the investigation during my
absence? How close to the imperial throne had the
conspiracy burrowed?

Pondering, I slowly retraced my steps through the
bedroom and dressing-room, and out into the tiled hall
way, where, at the end of the dim corridor, the door
of Colonel Jarras 's bureau stood partly open.

Jarras was sitting at his desk as I entered, and he
gave me a leaden-eyed stare as I closed the door behind
me and stood at attention.

For a moment he said nothing, but presently he partly
turned his ponderous body towards me and motioned
me to a chair.

As I sat down I glanced around and saw my old
comrade, Speed, sitting in a dark corner, chewing a
cigarette and watching me in alert silence.

"You are present to report?" suggested Colonel
Jarras, heavily.

I bowed, glancing across at Speed, who shrugged
139

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

his shoulders and looked at the floor with an ominous
smile.

Mystified, I began my report, but was immediately
stopped by Jarras with a peevish gesture : " All right,
all right; keep all that for the Chief of Department.
Your report doesn't concern me."

"Doesn't concern you!" I repeated; "are you not
chief of this bureau, Colonel Jarras?"

"No," snapped Jarras; "and there's no bureau
now — at least no bureau for the Foreign Division."

Speed leaned forward and said : " Scarlett, my friend,
the Foreign Division of the Imperial Military Police
is not in favor just now. It appears the Foreign Divi
sion is suspected."

"Suspected? Of what?"

"Treason, I suppose," said Speed, serenely.

I felt my face begin to burn, but the astonishing
news left me speechless.

" I said," observed Speed, " that the Foreign Division
is suspected ; that is not exactly the case ; it is not sus
pected, simply because it has been abolished."

"Who the devil did that?" I asked, savagely.

"Mornac."

Mornac! The Emperor's shadow! Then truly
enough it was all up with the Foreign Division. But
the shame of it! — the disgrace of as faithful a body
of police, mercenaries though they were, as ever worked
for any cause, good or bad.

"So it's the old whine of treason again, is it?" I said,
while the blood beat in my temples. "Oh, very well,
doubtless Monsieur Mornac knows his business. Are
we transferred, Speed, or just kicked out into the
street?"

"Kicked out," replied Speed, rubbing his slim, bony
hands together.

"And you, sir?" I asked, turning to Jarras, who sat
140

A MAN TO LET

with his fat, round head buried in his shoulders, staring
at the discolored blotter on his desk.

The old Corsican straightened as though stung:
"Since when, monsieur, have subordinates assumed
the right to question their superiors?"

I asked his pardon in a low voice, although I was
no longer his subordinate. He had been a good and
loyal chief to us all ; the least I could do now was to
show him respect in his bitter humiliation.

I think he felt our attitude and that it comforted him,
but all he said was : " It is a heavy blow. The Em
peror knows best."

As we sat there in silence, a soldier came to summon
Colonel Jarras, and he went away, leaning on his ivory-
headed cane, head bowed over the string of medals on
his breast.

When he had gone, Speed came over and shut the
door, then shook hands with me.

" He's gone to see Mornac ; it will be our turn next.
Look out for Mornac, or he'll catch you tripping in your
report. Did you find Buckhurst?"

"Look here," I said, angrily, "how can Mornac
catch me tripping? I'm not under his orders."

" You are until you're discharged. You see, they've
taken it into their heads, since the crucifix robbery, to
suspect everybody and anybody short of the Emperor.
Mornac came smelling around here the day you left.
He's at the bottom of all this — a nice business to cast
suspicion on our division because we're foreigners.
Gad, he looks like a pickpocket himself — he's got the
oblique trick of the eyes and the restless finger move
ment."

"Perhaps he is," I said.

Speed looked at me sharply.

"If I were in the service now I'd arrest Mornac —
if I dared."

141

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"You might as well arrest the Emperor," I said,
wearily.

"That's it/' observed Speed, throwing away his
chewed cigarette. "Nobody dare touch Mornac; no
body dare even watch him. But if there's a leak some
where, it's far more probable that Mornac did the dirty
work than that there's a traitor in our division."

Presently he added: "Did you catch Buckhurst?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, disgusted.

" — Because," continued Speed, "if you've got him,
it may save us. Have you?"

How I wished that I had Buckhurst safely hand
cuffed beside me!

"If you've got him," persisted Speed, "we'll shake
him like a rat until he squeals. And if he names
Mornac — "

"Do you think that Mornac would give him or us
the chance?" I said. "Rubbish! He'd do the shak
ing in camera; and it would only be a hand-shaking
if Buckhurst is really his creature. And he's rid him
self of our division, anyhow. Wait ! " I added, sharply ;
" perhaps that is the excuse ! Perhaps that is the very
reason that he's abolished the foreign division! We
may have been getting too close to the root of this
matter; I had already caught Buckhurst — "

"You had?" cried Speed, eagerly.

"But I'm not going to talk about it now," I added,
sullenly. "My troubles are coming; I've a story to
tell that won't please Mornac, and I have an idea that
he means mischief to me."

Speed looked curiously at me, and I went on :

"I used my own judgment — supposing that Jarras
was my chief. I knew he'd let me take my own way —
but I don't know what Mornac will say."

However, I was soon to know what Mornac had to
say, for a soldier appeared to summon us both, and we

142

A MAN TO LET

followed to the temporary bureau which looked out to
the east over the lovely Luxembourg gardens.

Jarras passed us as we entered ; his heavy head was
bent, and I do not suppose that he saw either us or our
salutes, for he shuffled off down the dark passage,
tapping his slow way like a blind man ; and Speed and
I entered, saluting Mornac.

The personage whom we saluted was a symmetrical,
highly colored gentleman, with black mustache and
Oriental eyes. His skin was too smooth — there was
not a line or a wrinkle visible on hand or face, nothing
but plump flesh pressing the golden collar of his light-
blue tunic and the half-dozen gold rings on his care
fully kept, restless fingers. His light, curved sabre
hung by its silver chain from a nail on a wall behind
him; beside it, suspended by the neck cord, was his
astrakhan - trimmed dolman of palest turquoise - blue,
and over that hung his scarlet cap.

As he raised his heavy-lidded, insolent eyes to me, I
thought I had never before appreciated the utter false
ness of his visage as I did at that moment. Instantly
I decided that he meant evil to me ; and I instinctively
glanced at Speed, standing beside me at attention, his
clear blue eyes alert, his lank limbs and lean head
fairly tremulous with comprehension.

At a careless nod from Mornac I muttered the formal
"I have to report, sir — " and began mumbling a per
functory account of my movements since leaving Paris.
He listened, idly contemplating a silver penknife which
he alternately snapped open and closed, the click of
the spring punctuating my remarks.

I told the truth as far as I went, which brought me to
my capture by Uhlans and the natural escape of my
prisoner, Buckhurst. I merely added that I had se
cured the diamonds and had managed to reach Paris
via Strasbourg.

143

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Is that all?" inquired Mornac, listlessly.

"All I have to report, sir."

" Permit me to be the judge of how much you have
to report," said Mornac. "Continue."

I was silent.

" Do you prefer that I draw out information by ques
tions?" asked Mornac, looking up at me.

I was already in his net ; I ought not to have placed
myself in the position of concealing anything, yet I
distrusted him and wished to avoid giving him a chance
to misunderstand me. But now it was too late; if the
error could be wiped out at all, the only way to erase
it was by telling him everything and giving him his
chance to misinterpret me if he desired it.

He listened very quietly while I told of my encoun
ter with Buckhurst in Morsbronn, of our journey to
Saverne, to Strasbourg, and finally my own arrival in
Paris.

"Where is Buckhurst?" he asked.

"I do not know," I replied, doggedly.

"That is to say that you had him in your power
within the French lines yet did not secure him?"

"Yes."

"Your orders were to arrest him?"

"Yes."

"And shoot him if he resisted?"

"Yes."

"But you let him go?"

"There was something more important to do than
to arrest Buckhurst. I meant to find out what he had
on hand in Paradise."

"So you disobeyed orders?"

"If you care to so interpret my action."

"Why did you not arrest the Countess de Vassart?"

"I did; the Uhlans made me prisoner as I reported
to you."

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A MAN TO LET

" I mean, why did you not arrest her after you left
Morsbronn?"

" That would have prevented Buckhurst from going
to Paradise."

"Your orders were to arrest the Countess?"

"Yes."

"Did you obey those orders?"

"No," I said, between my teeth.

"Why?"

"I had every reason to believe that an important
conspiracy was being ripened somewhere near Para
dise. I had every reason to believe that the robbery
of the crown jewels might furnish funds for the plot
ters.

" The arrest of one man could not break up the con
spiracy; I desired to trap the leaders; and to that end
I deliberately liberated this man Buckhurst as a stool-
pigeon. If my judgment has been at fault, I accept the
blame."

Mornac 's silver penknife closed. Presently he open
ed the blade again and tested the edge on his plump
forefinger.

" I beg to call your attention to the fact," I continued,
"that a word from Buckhurst to the provost at Mors
bronn would have sent me before the squad of execu
tion. In a way, I bought my freedom. But," I added,
slowly, " I should never have bought it if the bargain
by which I saved my own skin had been a betrayal
of France. Nobody wants to die ; but in my profession
we discount that. No man in my division is a physical
coward. I purchased my freedom not only without
detriment to France, but, on the contrary, to the advan
tage of France."

" At the expense of your honor," observed Mornac.

My ears were burning ; I advanced a pace and looked
Mornac straight between the eyes; but his eyes did

145

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

not meet mine — they were fixed on his silver pen
knife.

" I did the best I could do in the line of duty/' I said.
" You ask me why I did not break my word and ar
rest Buckhurst after we left the German lines. And
I answer you that I had given my word not to ar
rest him, in pursuance of my plan to use him fur
ther."

Mornac examined his carefully kept finger-tips in
detail.

"You say he bribed you?"

" I said that he attempted to do so," I replied, sharply.

"With the diamonds?"

"Yes."

"You have them?"

"I deposited them as usual."

"Bring them."

Angry as I was, I saluted, wheeled, and hastened off
to the safe deposit. The jewel-bag was delivered when
I presented my printed slip ; I picked it up and marched
back, savagely biting my mustache and striving to
control my increasing exasperation. Never before had
I endured insolence from a superior officer.

Mornac was questioning Speed as I entered, and that
young man, who has much self-control to learn, was
already beginning to answer with disrespectful im
patience, but my advent suspended matters, and Mornac
took the bag of jewels from my hands and examined it.
He seemed to be in no hurry to empty it; he lolled in
his chair with an absent-minded expression like the
expression of a cat who pretends to forget the mouse
between her paws. Danger was written all over him;
I squared my shoulders and studied him, braced for a
shock.

The shock came almost immediately, for, without a
word, he suddenly emptied the jewel-bag on the desk

146

A MAN TO LET

oefore him. The bag contained little pebbles wrapped
in tissue-paper.

I heard Speed catch his breath sharply; I stared
stupidly at the pebbles. Mornac made a careless, sweep
ing gesture, spreading the pebbles out before us with
his restless, ringed fingers.

"Suppose you explain this farce?" he suggested,
unmoved.

"Suppose you explain it!" I stammered.

He raised his delicately arched eyebrows. "What
do you mean?"

"I mean that an hour ago that bag contained the
diamonds from the crucifix of Louis XI. ! I mean that
I handed them over to you on my arrival at this bureau \"

"Doubtless you can prove what you say," he ob
served, and his silver penknife snapped shut like the
click of a trap, and he lay back in his padded chair
and slipped the knife into his pocket.

I looked at Speed ; his sandy hair fairly bristled, but
his face was drawn and tense. I looked at Mornac;
his heavy, black eyes met mine steadily.

"It seems to me," he said, "that it was high time
we abolished the Foreign Division, Imperial Milita^
Police."

"I refuse to be discharged!" I said, hoarsely. "It
is your word against mine; I demand an investiga
tion!"

" Certainly," he replied, almost wearily, and touched
a bell. "Bring that witness," he added to the soldier
fho appeared in answer to the silvery summons.

"I mean an official inquiry," I said — "a court-mar
tial. It is my right where my honor is questioned."

" It is my right, when you question my honor, to
throw you into Mont Vale"rien, neck and heels," he
said, showing his teeth under his silky, black mustache.

Almost stunned by his change of tone, I stood like
147

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

a stone. Somebody entered the room behind me,
passed me; there was an odor of violets in the air, a
faint rustle of silk, and I saw Mornac rise and bow
to his guest and conduct her to a chair.

His guest was the young Countess de Vassart.

She looked up at me brightly, gave me a pretty nod
of recognition, then turned expectantly to Mornac, who
was still standing at her elbow, saying, " Then it is no
longer a question of my exile, monsieur?"

"No, madame; there has been a mistake. The
government has no reason to suspect your loyalty."
He turned directly on me. " Madame, do you know
this officer?"

"Yes," said the Countess, smiling.

" Did you see him receive a small sack of diamonds
in Morsbronn?"

The Countess gave me a quick glance of surprise.
"Yes," she said, wonderingly.

" Thank you, madame; that is sufficient," he replied ;
and before I could understand what he was about he
had conducted the Countess to the next room and had
closed the door behind him.

"Quick!" muttered Speed at my elbow; "let's back
out of this trap. There's no use; he's one of them,
and he means to ruin you."

"I won't go!" I said, in a cold fury; "I'll choke the
truth out of him, I tell you."

" Man ! Man ! He's the Emperor's shadow ! You're
done for; come on while there's time. I tell you there's
no hope for you here."

" Hope ! What do I care?" I said, harshly. " Why,
Speed, that man is a common thief."

"What of it?" whispered Speed. "Doesn't every
body know that the conspiracy runs close to the
throne? What do you care? Come on, I tell you;
I've had enough of this rotten government. So have

148

A MAN TO LET

you. And we've both seen enough to ruin us. Come
on!"

" But he's got those diamonds ! Do you think I can
stand that?"

"I think you've got to/' muttered Speed, savagely.
"Do you want to rot in Cayenne? If you do, stay
here and bawl for a court-martial!"

"But the government — "

"Let the government go to the devil! It's going
fast enough, anyhow. Come, don't let Mornac find
us here when he returns. He may be coming now —
quick, Scarlett! We've got to cut for it!"

"Speed," I said, unsteadily, "it's enough to make
an honest man strike hands with Buckhurst in earnest. "

Speed took my arm with a cautious glance at the
door of the next room, and urged me toward the corri
dor.

" The government has kicked us out into the street,"
he muttered; "be satisfied that the government didn't
kick us into Biribi. And it will yet if you don't come."

"Come? Where? I haven't any money, and now
they've got my honor — "

"Rubbish!" he whispered, fairly dragging me into
the hallway. "Here! No — don't go to your rooms.
Leave everything — get clear of this rat-pit, I tell you."

He half pushed, half dragged me to the parade; then,
dropping my arm, he struck a jaunty pace through the
archway, not even glancing at the sentinels. I kept
pace with him, scarcely knowing what I did.

In the Rue de Seine I halted suddenly, crying out
that I must go back, but he seized me with a growl of
"Idiot! come on!" and fairly shoved me through the
colonnades of the Institute, along the quay, down the
river- wall, to a dock where presently a swift river-boat
swung in for passengers. And when the bateau mouche
shot out again into mid-stream, Speed and I stood

149

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

silently on deck, watching the silver - gray facades of
Paris fly past above us under the blue sky.

We sat far forward, quite alone, and separated from
the few passengers by the pilot-house and jointed fun
nel. And there, carelessly lounging, with one of his
lank legs crossed over the other and a cigar between
his teeth, my comrade coolly recounted to me the infa
mous history of the past week:

" Jarras put his honest, old, square-toed foot in it by
accident; I don't know how he managed to do it, but
this is certain: he suddenly found himself on a per
fectly plain trail which could only end at Mornac's
threshold.

" Then he did a stupid thing — he called Mornac in
and asked him, in perfect faith, to clear up the affair,
never for a moment suspecting that Mornac was the
man.

" That occurred the day you started to catch Buck-
hurst. And on that day, too, I had found out some
thing; and like a fool I told Jarras."

Speed chewed his cigar and laughed.

"In twenty-four hours Jarras was relieved of his
command; I was requested not to leave the Luxem
bourg — in other words, I was under arrest, and Mornac
took over the entire department and abolished the
Foreign Division 'for the good of the service/ as
the Official had it next day.

"Then somebody — Mornac probably — let loose a
swarm of those shadowy lies called rumors — you know
how that is done ! — and people began to mutter, and the
caf£s began to talk of treason among the foreign police.
Of course Rochefort took it up; of course the Official
printed a half-hearted denial which was far worse than
an avowal. Then the division was abolished, and the
illustrated papers made filthy caricatures of us, and
drew pictures of Mornac, sabre in hand, decapitating

150

A MAN TO LET

a nest full of American rattlesnakes and British
cobras, and Rochefort printed a terrible elaboration
of the fable of the farmer and the frozen serpent."

"Oh, that's enough," I said, sick with rage and
disgust. "Let them look out for their own country
now. I pity the Empress ; I pity the Emperor. I don't
know what Mornac means to do, but I know that the
Internationale boa-constrictor is big enough to swallow
government, dynastv, and Empire, and it is going to
try/'

"I am certain of one thing," said Speed, staring out
over the sunlit water with narrowing eyes. " I know
that Mornac is using Buckhurst."

"Perhaps it is Buckhurst who is using Mornac/'
I suggested.

"I think both those gentlemen have the same view
in end — to feather their respective nests under cover
of a general smash," said Speed. "It would not do
for Mornac to desert the Empire under any circum
stances. But he can employ Buckhurst to squeeze
it dry and then strike an attitude as its faithful de
fender in adversity."

"But why does Buckhurst desire to go to Paradise?"
I asked.

The boat swung into a dock near the Point du Jour ;
a few passengers left, a few came aboard; the boat
darted on again under the high viaduct of masonry,
past bastions on which long siege cannon glistened in
the sunshine, past lines of fresh earthworks, past grassy
embankments on which soldiers moved to the rumble
of drums.

"I know something about Paradise," said Speed,
in a low voice.

I waited; Speed chewed his cigar grimly.

" Look here, Scarlett," he said. " Do you know what
has become of the crown jewels of France?"

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"No," I said.

"Well, I'll tell you. You know, of course, that the
government is anxious ; you know that Paris is prepar
ing to stand siege if the Prussians double up Bazaine
and the army of Chalons in the north. But you don't
know what a pitiable fright the authorities are in. Why,
Scarlett, they are scared almost to the verge of idiocy."

"They've passed that verge," I observed.

"Yes, they have. They have had a terrible panic
over the safety of the crown jewels — they were nervous
enough before the robbery. And this is what they've
done in secret:

"The crown jewels, the bars of gold of the reserve,
the great pictures from the Louvre, the antiques of
value, including the Venus of Milo, have been packed
in cases and loaded on trains under heavy guard.

"Twelve of these trains have already left Paris for
the war-port of Lorient. The others are to follow, one
every twenty-four hours at midnight.

"Whether these treasures are to be locked up in
Lorient, or whether they are to be buried in the sand-
dunes along the coast, I don't know. But I know this :
a swift cruiser — the Fer-de-Lance — is lyiAng off Para
dise, between the light -house and the lie de Groix,
with steam up night and day, ready to receive the
treasures of the government at the first alarm and
run for the French possessions in Cochin-China.

" And now, perhaps, you may guess why Buckhurst
is so anxious to hang around Paradise."

Of course I was startled. Speed's muttered informa
tion gave me the keys to many doors. And behind
each door were millions and millions and millions of
francs' worth of plunder.

Our eyes met in mute interrogation; Speed smiled.

"Of course," said I, with dry lips, "Buckhurst is
devil enough to attempt anything."

152

A MAN TO LET

"Especially if backed by Mornac," said Speed.

Suddenly the professional aspect of the case burst
on me like a shower of glorious sunshine.

"Oh, for the chance!" I said, brokenly. "Speed!
Think of it ! Think how completely we have the thing
in hand!"

"Yes," he said, with a shrug, "only we have just
been kicked out of the service in disgrace, and we are
now going to be fully occupied in running away from
the police."

That was true enough; I had scarcely had time to
realize our position as escaped suspects of the depart
ment. And with the recognition of my plight came a
rush of. hopeless rage, of bitter regret, and soul-sicken
ing disappointment.

So this was the end of my career — a fugitive, dis
graced, probably already hunted. This was my re
ward for faithful service — penniless, almost friendless,
liable to arrest and imprisonment with no hope of jus
tice from Emperor or court-martial — a banned, ruined,
proscribed outcast, in blind flight.

"I've thought of the possibility of this," observed
Speed, quietly. " We've got to make a living somehow.
In fact, I'm to let — and so are you."

I looked at him, too miserable to speak.

" I had an inkling of it," he said. A shrewd twinkle
came into his clear, Yankee eyes ; he chewed his wreck
ed cigar and folded his lank arms.

"So," he continued, tranquilly, blinking at the
sparkling river, "I drew out all my money — and
yours, too."

"Mine!" I stammered. "How could you?"

"Forged an order," he admitted. "Can you forgive
me, Scarlett?"

"Forgive you! Bless your generous heart!" I mut
tered, as he handed me a sealed packet.

153

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Not at all/' he said, laughing; "a crime in time
saves nine — eh, Scarlett? Pocket it; it's all there.
Now listen. I have made arrangements of another
kind. Do you remember an application for license
from the manager of a travelling American show —
a Yankee circus?"

"Byram's Imperial American Circus?" I said.

"That's it. They went through Normandy last
summer. Well, Byram's agent is going to meet us
at Saint-Cloud. We're engaged; I'm to do ballooning
— you know I worked one of the military balloons
before Petersburg. You are to do sensational riding.
You were riding-master in the Spahis — were you
not?"

I looked at him, almost laughing. Suddenly the
instinct of my vagabond days returned like a sweet
wind from the wilds, smiting me full in the face.

"I tamed three lions for my regiment at Constan-
tine," I said.

" Good lad ! Then you can play with Byram's lions,
too. Oh, what the devil!" he cried, recklessly; "it's
all in a lifetime. Quand me1 me, and who cares ? We've
life before us and an honest living in view, and Byram
has packed two of his men back to England and I've
tinkered up their passports to suit us. So we're rea
sonably secure."

" Will you tell me, Speed, why you were wise enough
to do all this while I was gone?" I asked, in astonish
ment.

"Because," said Speed, deliberately, "I distrusted
Mornac from the hour he entered the department."

A splendid officer of police was spoiled when Mornac
entered the department.

Presently the deck guard began to shout : " Saint-
Cloud! Saint-Cloud!" and the little boat glided up
alongside the floating pier. Speed rosej I followed him

A MAN TO LET

across the gang-plank; and, side by side, we climbed
the embankment.

" Do you mean to say that Byram is going travelling
about with his circus in spite of the war?" I whispered.

"Yes, indeed. We start south from Chartres to
morrow."

Presently I said: "Do you suppose we will go to
Lorient or — Paradise?"

" We will if I have anything to say about it/' replied
Speed, throwing away his ragged cigar.

And I walked silently beside him, thinking of the
young Countess and of Buckhurst.

PART SECOND

IX

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

ON the 3d of November Byram's American Circus,
travelling slowly overland toward the Spanish
frontier, drew up for an hour's rest at Quimperl6. I,
however, as usual, prepared to ride forward to select a
proper place for our night encampment, and to procure
the necessary license.

The dusty procession halted in the town square,
which was crowded, and as I turned in my saddle I
saw Byram stand up on the red-and-gold band-wagon
and toss an armful of circulars and bills into the throng.

The white bits of paper fluttered wide and disappeared
in the sea of white Breton head-dresses; there was a
rhythmic clatter of wooden shoes, an undulation of
snowy coiffes, then a low murmur as the people slowly
read the circulars aloud, their musical monotone ac
companying the strident nasal voice of Byram, who
stood on the tarnished band-wagon shouting his crowd
around him.

"Mossoors et madams! Ecooty see voo play! J'ai
1'honnoor de vous presenter le ploo magnifique cirque — "
And the invariable reclame continued to the stereotyped
finis; the clown bobbed up behind Byram and made
his usual grimaces, and the band played "The Cork
Leg."

The Bretons looked on in solemn astonishment;
my comrade, Speed, languidly stood up on the elephant

159

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

and informed the people that our circus was travelling
to Lorient to fill a pressing engagement, and if we
disappointed the good people of Lorient a riot would
doubtless result, therefore it was not possible to give
any performance before we reached Lorient — and the
admission was only ten sous.

Our clown then picked up the tatters of his thread
bare comic speech. Speed, munching a stale sand
wich, came strolling over to where I stood sponging
out my horse's mouth with cool water.

"We'll ride into Paradise in full regalia, I suppose,"
he observed, munching away reflectively; "it's the
cheapest reclame."

I dashed a bucket of water over my horse's legs.
"You'd better look out for your elephant: those drunk
en Bretons are irritating him," I said. "Mahouts are
born, not made."

Speed turned ; the elephant was squealing and thrust
ing out a prehensile trunk among the people. There
would be trouble if any fool gave him tobacco.

" Hi !" cried Speed, " tobah 1 Let the mem-log alone !
Ai! he's snatched a coiffe! Drop it, Djebe! C'hast
buhan! Don't be afraid, mesdames; the elephant is
not ugly! Chomit oil en ho trankilite!"

The elephant appeared to understand the mixture
of Hindu, French, and Breton — or perhaps it was the
sight of the steel ankus that Speed flourished in his
quality of mahout. The crowd pressed forward again,
reassured by the "Chomit oil en ho trankilite!"

Speed swallowed the last crumb of his sandwich,
wiped his hands on his handkerchief, and shoved
them into his shabby pockets ; the ankus dangled from
his wrist.

We were in seedy circumstances ; an endless chain of
bad luck had followed us from Chartres — bad weather,
torrents of rain, flooded roads, damaging delays on

160

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

railways already overcrowded with troops and war
material, and, above all, we encountered everywhere
that ominous apathy which burdened the whole land,
even those provinces most remote from the seat of war.
The blockade of Paris had paralyzed France.

The fortune that Byram had made in the previous
year was already gone ; we no longer travelled by rail ;
we no longer slept at inns; we could barely pay for
the food for our animals.

As for the employe's, the list had been cut down below
the margin of safety, yet for a month no salaries had
been paid.

As I stood there in the -public square of Quimperle',
passing the cooling sponge over my horse's nose, old
Byram came out of the hotel on the corner, edged his
way through the stolid crowd that surrounded us gaunt
mountebanks, and shuffled up to me.

"I guess we ain't goin' to push through to-night,
Scarlett," he observed, wiping his sweating forehead
on the sleeve of his linen duster.

"No, governor, it's too far," I said.

"We'll be all right, anyway," added Speed; "there's
a change in the moon and this warm weather ought
to hold, governor."

"I dunno," said Byram, with an abstracted glance
at the crowd around the elephant.

"Cheer up, governor," I said, "we ought at least to
pay expenses to the Spanish frontier. Once out of
France we'll find your luck again for you."

"Mebbe," he said, almost wearily.

I glanced at Speed. This was the closest approach
to a whine that we had heard from Byram. But the
man had changed within a few days; his thin hair,
brushed across his large, alert ears, was dusty and
iinkempt ; hollows had formed under his shrewd eyes ;
his black broadcloth suit was as soiled as his linen,
» 161

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

his boots shabby, his silk hat suitable only for the
stage property of our clown.

"Don't ride too far," said Byram, as I set foot to
stirrup, "them band-wagon teams is most done up,
an' that there camuel gits meaner every minute."

I wheeled my horse out into the road to Paradise,
cursing the " camuel," the bane of our wearied caravan.

"Got enough cash for the license?" asked Byram,
uneasily.

"Plenty, governor; don't worry. Speed, don't let
him mope. We'll be in Lorient this time to-morrow,"
I called back, with a swagger of assumed cheerfulness.

Speed stepped swiftly across the square and laid his
hand on my stirrup.

"What are you going to do if you see Buckhurst?"

"Nothing."*

"Or the Countess?"

"I don't know."

" I suppose you will go out of your way to find her
if she's in Paradise?"

"Yes."

"And tell her the truth about Buckhurst?"

"I expect to."

After a moment's silence he said : " Don't do any
thing until I see you to-night, will you?"

"All right," I replied, and set my horse at a gallop
over the old stone bridge.

The highway to the sea which winds down through
acres of yellow gorse and waving broom to the cliffs
of Paradise is a breezy road, swept by the sweet winds
that blow across Brittany from the Cote d'Or to the
Pyrenees.

It is a land of sea-winds ; and when in the still noon
tide of midsummer the winds are at play far out at
sea, their traces remain in the furrowed wheat, in the
incline of solitary trees, in the breezy trend of the cliff-

162

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

clover and the blackthorn and the league-wide sweep
of the moorlands.

And through this land whose inland perfume always
savored the unseen sea I rode down to Paradise.

It was not until I had galloped through the golden
forest of Kerselec that I came in sight of the ocean, al
though among the sunbeams and the dropping showers
of yellow beech-leaves I fancied I could hear the sound
of the surf.

And now I rode slowly, in full sight of the sea where
it lay, an immense gray band across the world, touch
ing a looming horizon, and in throat and nostril the
salt stung sweetly, and the whole world seemed younger
for the breath of the sea.

From the purple mystery of the horizon to the land
ward cliffs the ocean appeared motionless ; it was only
when I had advanced almost to the cliffs that I saw the
movement of waves — that I perceived the contrast be
tween inland inertia and the restless repose of the
sea, stirring ceaselessly since creation.

The same little sparkling river I had crossed in
Quimperle I now saw again, spreading out a wide,
flat current which broke into waves where it tumbled
seaward across the bar ; I heard the white-winged gulls
mewing, the thunderous monotone of the surf, and a
bell in some unseen chapel ringing sweetly.

I passed a stone house, another ; then the white road
curved under the trees and I rode straight into the
heart of Paradise, my horse's hoofs awaking echoes
in the silent, stone-paved square.

Never had I so suddenly entered a place so peaceful,
so quiet in the afternoon sun — yet the silence was not
absolute, it was thrilling with exquisite sound, lost
echoes of the river running along its quay of stone,
half -heard harmonies of the ocean where white surf
seethed over the sands beyond the headland.

163

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

There was a fountain, too, dripping melodiously
under the trees ; I heard the breathless humming of a
spinning-wheel from one of the low houses of gray
stone which enclosed the square, and a young girl
singing, and the drone of bees in a bed of resida.

So this was Paradise ! Truly the name did not seem
amiss here, under the still vault of blue above ; Paradise
means peace to so many of us — surcease of care and
sound and the brazen trample of nations — not the
quiet of palace corridors or the tremendous silence of
a cathedral, but the noiselessness of pleasant sounds,
moving shadows of trees, wordless quietude, simplicity.

A young girl with a face like the Madonna stole
across the square in her felt shoes.

"Can you tell me where the mayor lives?" I asked,
looking down at her from my horse.

She raised her white -coiffed head with an innocent
smile: "Eman' barz ar sal o leina."

"Don't you speak French?" I asked, appalled.

"Ho! ia; oui, monsieur, si'l faut bien. The mayor
is at breakfast in his kitchen yonder."

"Thank you, my child."

I turned my horse across the shady square to a stone
house banked up with bed on bed of scarlet geraniums.
The windows were open; a fat man with very small
eyes sat inside eating an omelet.

He watched me dismount without apparent curios
ity, and when I had tied my horse and walked in at the
open door he looked at me over the rim of a glass of
cider, and slowly finished his draught without blink
ing. Then he said, "Bonjour."

I told him that I wanted a license for the circus to
camp for one night; that I also desired permission to
pitch camp somewhere in the vicinity. He made out
the license, stamped it, handed it to me, and I paid
him the usual fee.

164

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

"I've heard of circuses/' he said; "they're like
those shows at country fairs, I suppose."

"Yes — in a way. We have animals."

"What kind?"

"Lions, tigers — "

"I've seen them."

" — a camel, an elephant — "

"Alive?"

"Certainly."

"Ma doue!" he said, with slow emotion, "have you
a live elephant?"

I admitted that fact.

Presently I said, " I hope the people of Paradise will
come to the circus when we get to Lorient."

"Eh? Not they," said the mayor, wagging his
head. "Do you think we have any money here in
Paradise? And then," he added, cunningly, "we
can all see your elephant when your company arrives.
Why should we pay to see him again? War does not
make millionaires out of the poor."

I looked miserably around. It was quite true that
people like these had no money to spend on strolling
players. But we had to live somehow, and our animals
could not exist on air, even well-salted air.

" How much will it cost to have your town-crier an
nounce the coming of the circus?" I inquired.

"That will cost ten sous if he drums and reads the
announcement from here to the chateau."

I gave the mayor ten copper pennies.

"What chateau?" I asked.

"Dame, the chateau, monsieur."

"Oh," said I, "where the Countess lives?"

"The Countess? Yes, of course. Who else?"

"Is the Countess there?"

"Oui, dame, and others not to my taste."

I asked no more questions, but the mayor did, and

165

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

when he found it might take some time to pump me,
he invited me to share his omelet and cider and after
wards to sit in the sun among his geraniums and
satisfy his curiosity concerning the life of a strolling
player.

I was glad of something to eat. After I had un
saddled my horse and led him to the mayor's stable
and had paid for hay and grain, I returned to sit in
the mayor's garden and sniff longingly at his tobacco
smoke and answer his impertinent questions as good-
naturedly as they were intended.

But even the mayor of Paradise grew tired of asking
questions in time; the bees droned among the flowers,
the low murmur of the sea stole in on our ears, the
river softly lapped the quay. The mayor slept.

He was fat, very fat ; his short, velvet jacket hung
heavy with six rows of enormous silver buttons, his
little, round hat was tilted over his nose. A silver
buckle decorated it in front; behind, two little velvet
ribbons fluttered in futile conflict with the rising sea-
breeze.

Men in embroidered knee - breeches, with bare feet
thrust into straw-filled sabots, sat sunning on the quay
under the purple fig-trees ; one ragged fellow in soiled
velvet bolero and embossed leggings lay in the sun,
chin on fists, wooden shoes crossed behind him, watch
ing the water with the eyes of a poacher.

This mild, balmy November weather, this afterglow
of summer which in my own country we call Indian
summer, had started new blossoms among the climb
ing tea-roses, lovely orange-tinted blossoms, and some
of a clear lemon color, and their fragrance filled the air.
Nowhere do roses blow as they blow near the sea, no
where have I breathed such perfume as I breathed that
drowsy afternoon in Paradise, where in every door-
yard thickets of clove-scented pinks carpeted the ground

166

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

and tall spikes of snowy phlox glimmered silver-white
in the demi-light.

Where on earth could a more peaceful scene be found
than in this sea-lulled land, here in the subdued light
under aged, spreading oaks, where moss crept over the
pavements and covered the little fountain as though
it had been the stony brink of a limpid forest spring?

The mayor woke up toward five o'clock and stared
at me with owlish gravity as though daring me to say
that he had been asleep.

"Urn — ah — ma fois oui!" he muttered, blowing his
nose loudly in a purple silk bandanna. Then he
shrugged his shoulders and added: "C'est la vie,
monsieur. Que voulez-vous?"

And it was one kind of life after all — a blessed re
lease from the fever of that fierce farandole which we
of the outer world call "life."

The mayor scratched his ear, yawned, stretched one
leg, then the other, and glanced at me.

" Paris still holds out?" he asked, with another yawn.

"Oh yes," I replied.

"And the war — is it still going badly for us?"

''There is always hope," I answered.

" Hope," he grumbled ; " oh yes, we know what hope
is — we of the coast live on it when there's no bread;
but hope never yet filled my belly for me."

" Has the war touched you here in Paradise?" I asked.

"Touched us? Ho! Say it has crushed us and
I'll strike palms with you. Why, not a keel has passed
out of the port since August. Where is the fishing-
fleet? Where are the sardine sloops that ought to have
sailed from Algiers? Where are the Icelanders?"

"Well, where are they?" I suggested.

"Where? Ask the semaphore yonder. Where are
our salt schooners for the Welsh coast? I don't know.
They have not sailed, that's all I know. You do well

167

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

to come with your circus and your elephant! You
can peddle diamonds in the poor-house, too, if it suits
your taste."

" Have the German cruisers frightened all your craft
from the sea?" I asked, astonished.

" Yes, partly. Then there's an ugly French cruiser
lying off Groix, yonder, and her black stacks are drib
bling smoke all day and all night. We have orders
to keep off and use Lorient when we want a port."

" Do you know why the cruiser warns your fishing-
boats from this coast?" I inquired.

"No," he said, shortly.

"Do you know the name of the cruiser?"

"She's a new one, the Fer-de-Lance. And if I were
not a patriot and a Breton I'd say: 'May Sainte-Anne
rot her where she lies; she's brought a curse on the
coast from Lorient to the Saint -Julien Light! — and the
ghosts of the Icelanders will work her evil yet. ' '

The mayor's round, hairless face was red ; he thumped
the arm of his chair with pudgy fists and wagged his
head.

"We have not seen the end of this," he said — "oh
no! There's a curse coming on Paradise — the cruiser
brought it, and it's coming. He! did a Bannalec man
not hear the were-wolf in Kerselec forest a week since?
Pst! Not a word, monsieur. But old Kloark, of Ros-
coff, heard it too — oui dame ! — and he knows the howl
of the Loup-Garou! Besides, did I not with my own
eyes see a black cormorant fly inland from the sea?
And, by Sainte-Eline of Paradise ! the gulls squeal when
there's no storm brewing and the lancons prick the dark
with flames along the coast till you'd swear the witches
of Ker-Is were lighting death-candles from Paradise
to Pont-Aven."

"Do you believe in witches, monsieur the mayor?"
I asked, gravely.

168

THE ROAD TO PARADISE

He gave me a shrewd glance. " Not at all — not even
in bed and the light out," he said, with a fat swagger.
"/ believe in magic? Ho! foi non! But many do.
Oui dame! Many do."

"Here in Paradise?"

" Parbleu ! Men of parts, too, monsieur. Now there's
Terrec, who has the evil eye — not that I believe it, but,
damn him, he'd better not try any tricks on me!

" Others stick twigs of aubdpine in their pastures ;
the apothecary is a man of science, yet every year he
makes a bonfire of dried gorse and drives his cattle
through the smoke. It may keep off witches and light
ning — or it may not. I myself do not do such things. "

"Still you believe the cruiser out at sea yonder is
going to bring you evil?"

"She has brought it. But it's all the same to me.
I am mayor, and exempt, and I have cider and tobacco
and boudin for a few months yet."

He caressed his little, selfish chin, which hung between
his mottled jowls, peered cunningly at me, and opened
his mouth to say something, but at that moment we
both caught sight of a peasant running and waving a
packet of blue papers in the air. " Monsieur the mayor !
Monsieur the mayor!" he called, while still far away.

"Cr6 cochon de malheur!" muttered the mayor, turn
ing pale. "He's got a telegram 1"

The man came clattering across the square in his
wooden shoes.

" A telegram," repeated the mayor, wiping the sudden
sweat from his forehead. "I never get telegrams. I
don't want telegrams!"

He turned to me, almost bursting with suppressed
prophecy.

" It has come — the evil that the black cruiser brings
us! You laughed! Tenez, monsieur; there's your
bad luck in these blue morsels of paper!"

169

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

And he snatched the telegram from the breathless
messenger, reading it with dilating eyes.

For a long while he sat there studying the telegram,
his fat forefinger following the scrawl, a crease deepen
ing above his eyebrows, and all the while his lips moved
in noiseless repetition of the words he spelled with dif
ficulty and his labored breathing grew louder.

When at length the magistrate had mastered the con
tents of his telegram, he looked up with a stupid stare.

"I want my drummer. Where's the town-crier?"
he demanded, as though dazed.

"He has gone to Lorient, m'sieu the mayor/' vent
ured the messenger.

"To get drunk. I remember. Imbecile! Why did
he go to-day? Are there not six other days in this
cursed week? Who is there to drum? Nobody. No
body knows how in Paradise. Seigneur, Dieu! the
ignorance of this town!"

"M'sieu the mayor," ventured the messenger,
"there's Jacqueline."

"Ho! Vrai. The Lizard's young one! She can
drum, they say. She stole my drum once. Why did
she steal it but to drum upon it?"

" The little witch can drum them awake in Ker-Is,"
muttered the messenger.

The mayor rose, looked around the square, frowned.
Then he raised his voice in a bellow: "Jacqueline!
Jacqueline! Thou Jacqueline!"

A far voice answered, faintly breaking across the
square from the bridge : " She is on the rocks with her
sea-rake!"

The mayor thrust the blue telegram into his pocket
and waddled out of his garden, across the square, and
up the path to the cliffs.

Uninvited, I went with him.

THE TOWN-CRIER

THE bell in the unseen chapel ceased ringing as
we came out on the cliffs of Paradise, where, on
the horizon, the sun hung low, belted with a single
ribbon of violet cloud.

Over acres of foaming shoals the crimson light flick
ered and spread, painting the eastern cliffs with som
bre fire. The ebb-tide, red as blood, tumbled seaward
across the bar, leaving every ledge a glowing cinder
under the widening conflagration in the west.

The mayor carried his silver-buttoned jacket over
his arm; the air had grown sultry. As we walked our
gigantic shadows strode away before us across the
kindling stubble, seeming to lengthen at every stride.

Below the cliffs, on a crescent of flat sand, from which
sluggish, rosy rivulets crawled seaward, a man stood
looking out across the water. And the mayor stopped
and called down to him : " Ohe", the Lizard ! What do
you see on the ocean — you below?"

"I see six war-ships speeding fast in column," re
plied the man, without looking up.

The mayor hastily shaded his eyes with one fat hand,
muttering: "All poachers have eyes like sea-hawks.
There is a smudge of smoke to the north. Holy Vir
gin, what eyes the rascal has!"

As for me, strain my eyes as I would, I saw nothing
save the faintest stain of smoke on the horizon.

171

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"H6, Lizard! Are they German, your six war
ships?" bawled the mayor. His voice had suddenly
become tremulous.

" They are French/' replied the poacher, tranquilly.

"Then Sainte-Eline keep them from the rocks!"
sang out the mayor. " Ohe, Lizard, I want somebody to
drum and read a proclamation. Where's Jacqueline?"

At that instant a young girl, a mere child, appeared
on the beach, dragging a sea-rake over the ground
behind her. She was a lithe creature, bare-limbed
and ragged, with the sea-tan on throat and knee. The
blue tatters of her skirt hung heavy with brine; the
creamy skin on her arms glittered with wet spray, and
her hair was wet, too, clustering across her cheeks in
damp elf-locks.

The mayor glanced at her with that stolid contempt
which Finistere Bretons cherish toward those women
who show their hair — an immodesty unpardonable in
the eyes of most Bretons.

The girl caught sight of the mayor and gave him a
laughing greeting which he returned with a shrug.

"If you want a town-crier," she called up, in a de-
liciously fresh voice, scarcely tinged with the accent,
"I'll cry your edicts and I'll drum for you, too!"

"Can your daughter beat the drum?" asked the
mayor of the poacher, ignoring the girl's eager face
upturned.

"Yes," said the poacher, indifferently, "and she can
also beat the devil with two sticks."

The girl threw her rake into a boat and leaped upon
the rocks at the base of the cliff.

"Jacqueline! Don't come up that way!" bawled
the mayor, horrified. "Hey! Robert! Oh6! Lizard!
Stop her or she'll break her neck!"

The poacher looked up at his daughter then shrug
ged his shoulders and squatted down on his ragged

172

THE TOWN-CRIER

haunches, restless eyes searching the level ocean, as
sea-birds search.

Breathless, hot, and laughing, the girl pulled herself
up over the edge of the cliff. I held out my hand to aid
her, but she pushed it away, crying, " Thank you all
the same, but here I ami"

"Spawn of the Lizard," I heard the mayor mutter
to himself, "like a snake you wriggle where honest
folk fall to destruction!" But he spoke condescend
ingly to the bright-eyed, breathless child. " I'll pay six
sous if you'll drum for me."

"I'll do it for love," she said, saucily — "for the love
of drumming, not for your beaux yeux, m'sieu le maire. "

The mayor looked at her angrily, but, probably re
membering he was at her mercy, suppressed his wrath
and held out the telegram. "Can you read that, my
child?"

The girl, still breathing rapidly from her scramble,
rested her hands on her hips and, head on one side,
studied the blue sheets of the telegram over the mayor's
outstretched arm.

"Yes, I can read it. Why not? Can't you?"

"Read? I the mayor of Paradise!" repeated the
outraged magistrate. " What do you mean, lizard of
lizards! gorse cat!"

"Now if you are going to say such things I won't
drum for you," said the child, glancing at me out of
her sea-blue eyes and giving a shake to her elf-locks.

" Yes, you will !" bawled the angry mayor. " Shame
on your manners, Jacqueline Garenne ! Shame on your
hair hanging where all the world can see it I Shame on
your bare legs — "

" Not at all," said the child, unabashed. " God made
my legs, m'sieu the mayor, and my hair, too. If my
coiffe does not cover my hair, neither does the small
Paris hat of the Countess de Vassart cover her hair,

173

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Complain of the Countess to m'sieu the cure, then I
will listen to you."

The mayor glared at her, but she tossed her head and
laughed.

" Ho fois ! Everybody knows what you are," sniffed
the mayor — "and nobody cares, either," he muttered,
waddling past me, telegram in hand.

The child, quite unconcerned, fell into step beside
me, saying, confidentially: "When I was little I used
to cry when they talked to me like that. But I don't
now; I've made up my mind that they are no better
than I."

"I don't know why anybody should abuse you/'
I said, loudly enough for the mayor to hear. But that
functionary waddled on, puffing, muttering, stopping
every now and then in the narrow cliff-path to strike
flint to tinder or to refill the tiny bowl of his pipe, which
a dozen puffs always exhausted.

"Oh, they all abuse us," said the child, serenely.
" You see, you are a stranger and don't understand ;
but you will if you live here." ,

"Why is everybody unkind to you?" I asked, after
a moment.

"Why? Oh, because I am what I am and my father
is the Lizard."

"A poacher?"

"Ah," she said, looking up at me with delicious
malice, "what is a poacher, monsieur?"

"Sometimes he's a fine fellow gone wrong," I said,
laughing. " So I don't believe any ill of your father,
or of you, either. Will you drum for me, Jacqueline?"

" For you, monsieur? Why, yes. What am I to read
for you?"

I gave her a hand-bill; at the first glance her eyes
sparkled, the color deepened under her coat of amber
tan ; she caught her breath and read rapidly to the end.

174

THE TOWN-CRIER

"Oh, how beautiful," she said, softly. "Am I to
read this in the square?"

"I will give you a franc to read it, Jacqueline."

"No, no — only — oh, do let me come in and see the
heavenly wonders! Would you, monsieur? 1 — I can
not pay — but would — could you let me come in? I
will read your notice, anyway," she added, with a
quaver in her voice.

The flushed face, the eager, upturned eyes, deep blue
as the sea, the little hands clutching the show-bill,
which fairly quivered between the tanned fingers —
all these touched and amused me. The child was mad
with excitement.

What she anticipated, Heaven only knows. Shabby
and tarnished as we were, the language of our hand
bills made up in gaudiness for the dingy reality.

"Come whenever you like, Jacqueline," I said.
"Ask for me at the gate."

"And who are you, monsieur?"

"My name is Scarlett."

"Scarlett," she whispered, as though naming a sa
cred thing.

The mayor, who had toddled some distance ahead of
us, now halted in the square, looking back at us through
the red evening light.

" Jacqueline, the drum is in my house. I'll lend you
a pair of sabots, too. Come, hasten little idler!"

We entered the mayor's garden, where the flowers
were glowing in the lustre of the setting sun. I sat
down in a chair; Jacqueline waited, hands resting on
her hips, small, shapely toes restlessly brushing the
grass.

" Truly this coming wonder-show will be a peep into
paradise," she murmured. "Can all be true — really
true as it is printed here in this bill — I wonder — "

Before she had time to speculate further, the mayor
175

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

reappeared with drum and drum- sticks in one hand
and a pair of sabots in the other. He flung the sabots
on the grass, and Jacqueline, quite docile now, slipped
both bare feet into them.

" You may keep them," said the mayor, puffing out
his mottled cheeks benevolently; "decency must be
maintained in Paradise, even if it beggars me."

" Thank you," said Jacqueline, sweetly, slinging the
drum across her hip and tightening the cords. She
clicked the ebony sticks, touched the tightly drawn
parchment, sounding it with delicate fingers, then look
ed up at the mayor for further orders.

"Go, my child," said the mayor, amiably, and
Jacqueline marched through the garden out into the
square by the fountain, drum-sticks clutched in one
tanned fist, the scrolls of paper in the other.

In the centre of the square she stood a moment, look
ing around, then raised the drum-sticks; there came
a click, a flash of metal, and the quiet square echoed
with the startling outcrash. Back from roof and
wall bounded the echoes; the stony pavement rang
with the racket. Already a knot of people had gathered
around her; others came swiftly to windows and door
steps ; the loungers left their stone benches by the river,
the maids of Paradise flocked from the bridge. Even
Robert the Lizard drew in his dripping line to listen.
The drum-roll ceased.

" Attention ! Men of Finistere ! By order of the gov
ernor of Lorient, all men between the ages of twenty
and forty, otherwise not exempt, are ordered to report
at the navy-yard barracks, war-port of Lorient, on the
5th of November of the present year, to join the army
of the Loire.

" Whosoever is absent at roll - call will be liable
to the punishment provided for such delinquents
under the laws governing the state of siege now

176

THE TOWN-CRIER

declared in Morbihan and Finist&re. Citizens, to
arms !

"The enemy is on the march 1 Though Metz has
fallen through treachery, Paris holds firm! Let the
provinces rise and hurl the invader from the soil of the
motherland !

" Bretons ! France calls ! Answer with your ancient
battle-cry, ' Sainte- Anne ! Sainte- Anne!' The eyes of
the world are on Armorica! To arms!"

The girl's voice ceased; a dead silence reigned in the
square. The men looked at one another stupidly; a
woman began to whimper.

"The curse is on Paradise!" cried a hoarse voice.

The drummer was already drawing another paper
from her ragged pocket, and again in the same clear,
emotionless voice, but slightly drawling her words, she
read:

"To the good people of Paradise! The manager of
the famous American travelling circus, lately returned
from a tour of the northern provinces, with camels,
elephants, lions, and a magnificent company of artists,
announces a stupendous exhibition to be held in Lorient
at greatly reduced prices, thus enabling the intelligent
and appreciative people of Paradise to honor the Repub
lican Circus, recently known as the Imperial Circus, with
their benevolent and discerning patronage ! Long live
France! Long live the Republic ! Long live the Circus 1"

A resounding roll of the drum ended the announce
ments ; the girl slung the drum over her shoulder, turned
to the right, and passed over the stone bridge, sabots
clicking. Presently from the hamlet of Alincourt over
the stream came the dull roll of the drum again and
the faint, clear voice :

"Attention! Men of Finistere! By order of the
governor of Lorient, all men — " The wind changed
and her voice died away among the trees.

177

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The maids of Paradise were weeping now by the
fountain; the men gathered near, and their slow,
hushed voices scarcely rose above the ripple of the
stream where Robert the Lizard fished in silence.

It was after sunset before Jacqueline finished her
rounds. She had read her proclamation in Alincourt
hamlet, she had read it in Sainte-Ysole, her drum had
aroused the inert loungers on the breakwater at Trinite'-
on-Sea. Now, with her drum on her shoulder and
her sabots swinging in her left hand, she came down
the cliffs beside the Chapel of Our Lady of Paradise,
excited and expectant.

Of the first proclamation which she had read she
apparently understood little. When she announced
the great disaster at Metz in the north, and when her
passionless young voice proclaimed the levee en masse —
the call to arms for the men of the coast from Sainte-
Ysole to Trinit6 Beacon — she scarcely seemed to realize
what it meant, although all around her women turned
away sobbing, or clung, deathly white, to sons and
husbands.

But there was certainly something in the other proc
lamation which thrilled her and set her heart galloping
as she loitered on the cliff.

I walked across to the Quimperle road and met
her, dancing along with her drum; and she promptly
confided her longings and desires to me as we stood
together for an instant on the high-road. The circus !
Once, it appeared, she had seen — very far off — a glit
tering creature turning on a trapeze. It was at the
fair near Bannalec, and it was so long ago that she
scarcely remembered anything except that somebody
had pulled her away while she stood enchanted, and
the flashing light of fairyland had been forever shut
from her eyes.

At times, when the maids of Paradise were sociable
178

THE TOWN-CRIER

at the well in the square, she had listened to stories of
the splendid circus which came once to Lorient. And
now it was coming again!

We stood in the middle of the high-road looking
through the dust haze, she doubtless dreaming of the
splendors to come, I very, very tired. The curtain of
golden dust reddened in the west; the afterglow lit up
the sky once more with brilliant little clouds suspended
from mid-zenith. The moorland wind rose and tossed
her elf-locks in her eyes and whipped her skirt till the
rags fluttered above her smooth, bare knees.

Suddenly, straight out of the naming gates of the
sunset, the miracle was wrought. Celestial shapes in
gold and purple rose up in the gilded dust, chariots of
silver, milk-white horses plumed with fire.

Breathless, she shrank back among the weeds, one
hand pressed to her throbbing throat. But the vision
grew as she stared ; there was heavenly music, too, and
the clank of metal chains, and the smothered pounding
of hoofs. Then she caught sight of something through
the dust that filled her with a delicious terror, and she
cried out. For there, uptowering in the haze, came
trudging a great, gray creature, a fearsome, swaying
thing in crimson trappings, flapping huge ears. It
shuffled past, swinging a dusty trunk; the sparkling
horsemen cantered by, tin armor blazing in the fading
glory; the chariots dragged after, and the closed dens
of beasts rolled behind in single file, followed by the
band-wagon, where Heaven-inspired musicians played
frantically and a white-faced clown balanced his hat
on a stick and shrieked.

So the circus passed into Paradise ; and I turned and
followed in the wake of dust, stale odors, and clamor
ous discord, sick at heart of wandering over a world
I had not found too kind.

And at my heels stole Jacqueline.
179

XI

IN CAMP

WE went into camp under the landward glacis of
the cliffs, in a field of clover which was to be
ploughed under in a few days. We all were there ex
cept Kelly Eyre, who had gone to telegraph the gov
ernor of Lorient for permission to enter the port with
the circus. Another messenger also left camp on pri
vate business for me.

It was part of my duty to ration the hay for the ele
phant and the thrice-accursed camel. The latter had
just bitten Mr. Grigg, our clown — not severely — and
Speed and Horan the " Strong Man " were hobbling the
brute as I finished feeding my lions and came up to
assist the others.

"Watch that darn elephant, too, Mr. Grigg," said
Byram, looking up from a plate of fried ham that Miss
Crystal, our "Trapeze Lady," had just cooked for him
over our gypsy fires of driftwood.

"Look at that elephant! Look at him!" continued
Byram, with a trace of animation lighting up his care
worn face — " look at him now chuckin' hay "over his
back. Scrape it up, Mr. Scarlett; hay's thirty a ton
in this war-starved country."

As I started to clean up the precious hay, the ele
phant gave a curious grunt and swung his trunk tow
ard me.

" There's somethin' paltry about that elephant," said
180

IN CAMP

Byram, in a complaining voice, rising, with plate of
ham in one hand, fork in the other. " He's gittin' as
mean as that crafty camuel. Make him move, Mr.
Speed, or hell put his foot on the trombone."

"H6 Djebe! Mail!" said Speed, sharply.

The elephant obediently shuffled forward; Byram
sat down again, and wearily cut himself a bit of fried
ham ; and presently we were all sitting around the long
camp-table in the glare of two smoky petroleum torches,
eating our bread and ham and potatoes and drinking
Breton cider, a jug of which Mr. Horan had purchased
for a few coppers.

Some among us were too tired to eat, many too tired
for conversation, yet, from habit we fell into small talk
concerning the circus, the animals, the prospects of bet
ter days.

The ladies of the company, whatever quarrels they
indulged in among themselves, stood loyally by Byram
in his anxiety and need. Miss Crystal and Miss Delany
displayed edifying optimism; Mrs. Horan refrained
from nagging ; Mrs. Grigg, a pretty little creature, who
was one of the best equestriennes I ever saw, declared
that we were living too well and that a little dieting
wouldn't hurt anybody.

McCadger, our band-master, came over from the other
fire to say that the men had finished grooming the
horses, and would I inspect the picket-line, as Kelly
Eyre was still absent.

When I returned, the ladies had retired to their
blankets under their shelter-tent; poor little Grigg lay
asleep at the table, his tired, ugly head resting among
the unwashed tin plates ; Speed sprawled in his chair,
smoking a short pipe; Byram sat all hunched up, his
head sunk, eyes vacantly following the movements
of two men who were washing dishes in the flickering
torchlight.

181

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

He looked up at me, saying : " I guess Mr. Speed is
right. Them lions o' yourn is fed too much horse-
meat. Overeatin' is overheatin' ; we've got to give 'em
beef or they'll be clawin' you. Yes, sir, they're all het
up. Hear 'em growl!"

" That's a fable, governor," I said, smiling and drop
ping into a chair. "I've heard that theory before, but
it isn't true."

"The trouble with your lions is that you play with
them too much and they're losing respect for you,"
said Speed, drowsily.

"The trouble with my lions," said I, "is that they
were born in captivity. Give me a wild lion, caught
on his native heath, and I'll know what to expect from
him when I tame him. But no man on earth can tell
what a lion born in captivity will do."

The hard cider had cheered Byram a little ; he drew
a cherished cigar from his vest-pocket, offered it to me,
and when I considerately refused, he carefully set it
alight with a splinter from the fire. Its odor was in
describable.

" Luck's a curious phenomena, ain't it, Mr. Scarlett?"
he said.

I agreed with him.

" Luck," continued Byram, waving his cigar toward
the four quarters of the globe, " is the rich man's slave
an' the poor man's tyrant. It's also a see-saw. When
the devil plays in luck the cherubim git spanked — or
words to that effec' — not meanin' no profanity."

"It's about like that, governor," admitted Speed,
lazily.

Byram leaned back and sucked meditatively at his
cigar. The new moon was just rising over the ele
phant's hindquarters, and the poetry of the incident
appeared to move the manager profoundly. He turned
and surveyed the dim bivouac, the two silent tents, the

182

IN CAMP

monstrous, shadowy bulk of the elephant, rocking
monotonously against the sky. "Kind of Silurian
an' solemn, ain't it," he murmured, "the moon shinin'
onto the rump of that primeval pachyderm. It's like
the dark ages of the behemoth an' the cony. I tell
you, gentlemen, when them fearsome an' gigantic
mamuels was aboundin' in the dawn of creation, the
public missed the greatest show on earth — by a few
million years!"

We nodded sleepily but gravely.

Byram appeared to have recovered something of his
buoyancy and native optimism.

"Gentlemen," he said, "let's kinder saunter over to
the inn and have a night-cap with Kelly Eyre."

This unusual and expensive suggestion startled us
wide awake, but we were only too glad to acquiesce in
anything which tended to raise his spirits or ours.
Dog tired but smiling we rose; Byram, in his shirt
sleeves and suspenders, wearing his silk hat on the
back of his head, led the way, fanning his perspiring
face with a red-and-yellow bandanna.

"Luck," said Byram, waving his cigar toward the
new moon, " is bound to turn one way or t'other — like
my camuel. Sometimes, resemblin' the camuel, luck
will turn on you. Look out it don't bite you. I once
made up a piece about luck:

" ' Don't buck
Bad luck
Or you'll get stuck — '

I disremember the rest, but it went on to say a few
other words to that effec'."

The lighted door of the inn hung ajar as we crossed
the star-lit square ; Byram entered and stood a moment
in the doorway, stroking his chin. "Bong joor the
company 1" he said, lifting his battered hat.

183

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The few Bretons in the wine - room returned his
civility; he glanced about and his eye fell on Kelly
Eyre, Speed's assistant balloonist, seated by the win
dow with Horan.

" Well, gents/' said Byram, hopefully, " an' what aire
the prospects of smilin' fortune when rosy -fingered
dawn has came again to kiss us back to life?"

"Rotten," said Eyre, pushing a telegram across the
oak table.

Byram 's face fell; he picked up the telegram and
fumbled in his coat for his spectacles with unsteady
hand.

"Let me read it, governor," said Speed, and took the
blue paper from Byram's unresisting, stubby fingers.

"Oho!" he muttered, scanning the message; "well —
well, it's not so bad as all that — " He turned abruptly
on Kelly Eyre — " What the devil are you scaring the
governor for?"

"Well, he's got to be told — I didn't mean to worry
him, "said Eyre, stammering, ashamed of his thought
lessness.

"Now see here, governor," said Speed, "let's all
have a drink first. He" ma belle!" — to the big Breton
girl knitting in the corner — "four little swallows of
eau-de-vie, if you please ! Ah, thank you, I knew you
were from Bannalec, where all the girls are as clever
as they are pretty! Come, governor, touch glasses!
There is no circus but the circus, and Byram is it's
prophet! Drink, gentlemen!"

But his forced gayety was ominous; we scarcely
tasted the liqueur. Byram wiped his brow and squared
his bent shoulders. Speed, elbows on the table, sat
musing and twirling his half-empty glass.

"Well, sir?" said Byram, in a low voice.

"Well, governor? Oh — er — the telegram?" asked
Speed, like a man fighting for time.

184

IN CAMP

"Yes, the telegram/' said By ram, patiently.

" Well, you see they have just heard of the terrible
smash -up in the north, governor. Metz has surren
dered with Bazaine's entire army. And they're natu
rally frightened at Lorient. . . . And I rather fear that
the Germans are on their way toward the coast. . . .
And . . . well . . . they won't let us pass the Lorient
fortifications."

"Won't let us in?" cried Byram, hoarsely.

"I'm afraid not, governor."

Byram stared at us. We had counted on Lorient to
pull us through as far as the frontier.

"Now don't take it so hard, governor," said Kelly
Eyre; "I was frightened myself, at first, but I'm
ashamed of it now. We'll pull through, anyhow."

"Certainly," said Speed, cheerily, "we'll just lay up
here for a few days and economize. Why can't we try
one performance here, Scarlett?"

" We can," said I. " We'll drum up the whole district
from Pontivy to Auray and from Penmarch Point to
Plouharnel ! Why should the Breton peasantry not
come? Don't they walk miles to the Pardons?"

A gray pallor settled on By ram's sunken face; with
it came a certain dignity which sorrow sometimes
brings even to men like him.

"Young gentlemen," he said, "I'm obliged to you.
These here reverses come to everybody, I guess. The
Lord knows best ; but if He'll just lemme run my show
a leetle longer, I'll pay my debts an' say, 'Thy will be
done, amen ! ' '

"We all must learn to say that, anyway/' said
Speed.

"Mebbe," muttered Byram, "but I must pay my
debts."

After a painful silence he rose, steadying himself
with his hand on Eyre's broad shoulder, and shambled

185

out across the square, muttering something about his
elephant and his camuel.

Speed paid the insignificant bill, emptied his glass,
and nodded at me.

"It's all up," he said, soberly.

" Let's come back to camp and talk it over," I said.

Together we traversed the square under the stars,
and entered the field of clover. In the dim, smoky
camp all lights were out except one oil-drenched torch
stuck in the ground between the two tents. Byram
had gone to rest, so had Kelly Eyre. But my lions
were awake, moving noiselessly to and fro, eyes shin
ing in the dusk ; and the elephant, a shapeless pile of
shadow against the sky, stood watching us with little,
evil eyes.

Speed had some cigarettes, and he laid the pink
package on the table. I lighted one when he did.

"Do you really think there's a chance?" he asked,
presently.

"I don't know," I said.

"Well, we can try."

"Oh yes."

Speed dropped his elbows on the table. "Poor old
governor," he said.

Then he began to talk of our own prospects, which
were certainly obscure if not alarming; but he soon
gave up speculation as futile, and grew reminiscent,
recalling our first acquaintance as discharged soldiers
from the African battalions, our hand-to-mouth exist
ence as gentlemen farmers in Algiers, our bankruptcy
and desperate struggle in Marseilles, first as dock-
workmen, then as government horse -buyers for the
cavalry, then as employe's of the Hippodrome in Paris,
where I finally settled down as bareback rider, lion-
tamer, and instructor in the haute-6cole ; and he accepted
a salary as aid to Monsieur Gaston Tissandier, the sci-

186

IN CAMP

enlist, who was experimenting with balloons at Saint-
Cloud.

He spoke, too, of our enlistment in the Imperial Po
lice, and the hopes we had of advancement, which not
only brought no response from me, but left us both
brooding sullenly on our wrongs, crouched there over
the rough camp-table under the stars.

"Oh, hell!" muttered Speed, "I'm going to bed."

But he did not move. Presently he said, " How did
you ever come to handle wild animals?"

"I've always been fond of animals; I broke colts
at home; I had bear cubs and other things. Then, in
Algiers, the regiment caught a couple of lions and kept
them in a cage, and — well, I found I could do what I
liked with them."

"They're afraid of your eyes, aren't they?"

"I don't know — perhaps it's that; I can't explain it
— or, rather, I could partly explain it by saying that I
am not afraid of them. But I never trust them."

"You drag them all around the cage! You shove
them about like sacks of meal!"

"Yes, ... but I don't trust them."

"It seems to me," said Speed, "that your lions are
getting rather impudent these days. They're not very
much afraid of you now."

"Nor I of them," I said, wearily; "I'm much more
anxious about you when you go sailing about in that
patched balloon of yours. Are you never nervous?"

"Nervous? When?"

"When you're up there?"

"Rubbish."

"Suppose the patches give way?"

" I never think of that," he said, leaning on the table
with a yawn. " Oh, Lord, how tired I am ! . . . but I
shall not be able to sleep. I'm actually too tired to
sleep. Have you got a pack of cards, Scarlett? or a

187

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

decent cigar, or a glass of anything, or anything tv:
show me more amusing than that nightmare of an
elephant? Oh, I'm sick of the whole business — sick!
sick! The stench of the tan -bark never leaves my
nostrils except when the odor of fried ham or of that
devilish camel replaces it.

" I'm too old to enjoy a gypsy drama when it's acted
by myself; I'm tired of trudging through the world
with my entire estate in my pocket. I want a home,
Scarlett. Lord, how I envy people with homes!"

He had been indulging in this outburst with his back
partly turned toward me. I did not say anything, and,
after a moment, he looked at me over his shoulder to
see how I took it.

"I'd like to have a home, too," I said.

" I suppose homes are not meant for men like you and
me," he said. "Lord, how I would appreciate one,
though — anything with a bit of grass in the yard
and a shovelful of dirt — enough to grow some damn
flower, you know. . . . Did you smell the posies in
the square to-night? . . . Something of that kind,
. . . anything, Scarlett — anything that can be called
a home! . . . But you can't understand."

"Oh yes, I can," I said.

He went on muttering, half to himself: "We're of
the same breed — pariahs; fortunately, pariahs don't
last long, . . . like the wild creatures who never die
natural deaths, . . . old age is one of the curses they
can safely discount, . . . and so can we, Scarlett, so
can we. . . . For you'll be mauled by a lion or kicked
into glory by a horse or an ox or an ass, . . . and I'll
fall off a balloon, ... or the camel will give me tetanus,
or the elephant will get me in one way or another, . . .
or something. ..."

Again he twisted around to look at me. "Funny,
isn't it?"

188

IN CAMP

"Rather funny," I said, listlessly.

He leaned over, pulled another cigarette from the
pink packet, broke a match from the card, and light
ed it.

"I feel better/' he observed.

I expressed sleepy gratification.

" Oh yes, I'm much better. This isn't a bad life, is
it?"

"Oh no!" I said, sarcastically.

" No, it's all right, and we've got to pull the poor old
governor through and give a jolly good show here and
start the whole country toward the tent door! Eh?"

"Certainly. Don't let me detain you."

"I'll tell you what," he said, "if we only had that
poor little girl, Miss Claridge, we'd catch these Bretons.
That's what took the coast -folk all over Europe, so
Grigg says."

Miss Claridge had performed in a large glass tank
as the "Leaping Mermaid." It took like wildfire ac
cording to our fellow-performers. We had never seen
her; she was killed by diving into her tank when the
circus was at Antwerp in April.

" Can't we get up something like that?" I suggested,
hopelessly.

"Who would do it? Miss Claridge 's fish-tights are
in the prop-box; who's to wear them?"

He began to say something else, but stopped sud
denly, eyes fixed. We were seated nearly opposite each
other, and I turned around, following the direction of
his eyes.

Jacqueline stood behind me in the smoky light of the
torch — Jacqueline, bare of arm and knee, with her sea-
blue eyes very wide and the witch -locks clustering
around the dim oval of her face. After a moment's
absolute silence she said : " I came from Paradise.
Don't you remember?"

189

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"From Paradise?" said Speed, smiling; "I thought
it might be from elf-land."

And I said : " Of course I remember you, Jacqueline.
And I have an idea you ought to be in bed."

There was another silence.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Speed.

"Thank you," said Jacqueline, gravely.

She seated herself on a sack of sawdust, clasping
her slender hands between her knees, and looked
earnestly at the elephant.

"He won't harm you/' I assured her.

" If you think I am afraid of that," she said, " you are
mistaken, Monsieur Scarlett."

"I don't think you are afraid of anything," observed
Speed, smiling; "but I know you are capable of as
tonishment."

"How do you know that?" demanded the girl.

" Because I saw you with your drum on the high-road
when we came past Paradise. Your eyes were similar
to saucers, and your mouth was not closed, Made
moiselle Jacqueline."

"Oh — pour ca — yes, I was astonished," she said.
Then, with a quick, upward glance : " Were you riding,
in armor, on a horse?"

"No," said Speed ; "I was on that elephant's head."

This appeared to make a certain impression on Jacque
line. She became shyer of speech for a while, until he
asked her, jestingly, why she did not join the circus.

"It is what I wish," she said, under her breath.

"And ride white horses?"

" Will you take me?" she cried, passionately, spring
ing to her feet.

Amazed at her earnestness, I tried to explain that
such an idea was out of the question. She listened
anxiously at first, then her eyes fell and she stood
there in the torch-light, head hanging.

190

IN CAMP

" Don't you know," said Speed, kindly, " that it takes
years of practice to do what circus people do? And the
life is not gay, Jacqueline ; it is hard for all of us. We
know what hunger means ; we know sickness and want
and cold. Believe me, you are happier in Paradise than
we are in the circus."

"It may be," she said, quietly.

"Of course it is," he insisted.

"But," she flashed out, "I would rather be unhappy
in the circus than happy in Paradise!"

He protested, smiling, but she would have her
way.

"I once saw a man, in spangles, turning, turning,
and ever turning upon a rod. He was very far away,
and that was very long ago — at the fair in Bannalec.
But I have not forgotten ! No, monsieur ! In our net-
shed I also have fixed a bar of wood, and on it I turn,
turn continually. I am not ignorant of twisting. I
can place my legs over my neck and cross my feet under
my chin. Also I can stand on both hands, and I can
throw scores of handsprings — which I do every morning
upon the beach — I, Jacqueline!"

She was excited; she stretched out both bare arms
as though preparing to demonstrate her ability then
and there.

"I should like to see a circus," she said. "Then I
should know what to do. That I can swing higher
than any girl in Paradise has been demonstrated often,"
she went on, earnestly. "I can swim farther, I can
dive deeper, I can run faster, with bare feet or with
sabots, than anybody, man or woman, from the Beacon
to Our Lady's Chapel ! At bowls the men will not allow
me because I have beaten them all, monsieur, even the
mayor, which he never forgave. As for the farandole,
I tire last of all — and it is the biniou who cries out for
mercy!"

191

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

She laughed and pushed back her hair, standing
straight up in the yellow radiance like a moor-sprite.
There was something almost unearthly in her lithe
young body and fearless sea-blue eyes, sparkling from
the shock of curls.

"So you can dive and swim?" asked Speed, with a
glance at me.

"Like the salmon in the Laita, monsieur."

"Under water?"

"Parbleu!"

After a pause I asked her age.

"Fifteen, M'sieu Scarlett."

"You don't look thirteen, Jacqueline."

" I think I should grow faster if we were not so poor/'
she said, innocently.

"You mean that you don't get enough to eat?"

"Not always1, m'sieu. But that is so with every
body except the wealthy."

"Suppose we try her," said Speed, after a silence.
"You and I can scrape up a little money for her if
worst comes to worst."

"How about her father?"

"You can see him. What is he?"

"A poacher, I understand."

" Oh, then it's easy enough. Give him a few francs.
He'll take the child's salary, anyway, if this thing
turns out well."

"Jacqueline," I said, "we can't afford to pay you
much money, you know."

"Money?" repeated the child, vacantly. "Money!
If I had my arms full — so! — I would throw it into
the world — so!" — she glanced at Speed — "reserving
enough for a new skirt, monsieur, of which I stand
in some necessity."

The quaint seriousness, the resolute fearlessness of
this little maid of Paradise touched us both, I think,

192

IN CAMP

as she stood there restlessly, balancing on her slim
bare feet, finger-tips poised on her hips.

"Won't you take me?" she asked, sweetly.

" I'll tell you what III do, Jacqueline," said I. " Very
early in the morning I'll go down to your house and
see your father. Then, if he makes no objection, I'll
get you to put on a pretty swimming-suit, all made out
of silver scales, and you can show me, there in the sea,
how you can dive and swim and play at mermaid.
Does that please you?"

She looked earnestly at me, then at Speed.

"Is it a promise?" she asked, in a quivering voice.

"Yes, Jacqueline."

"Then I thank you, M'sieu Scarlett, . . . and you,
m'sieur, who ride the elephant so splendidly. . . .
And I will be waiting for you when you come. . . .
We live in the house below the Saint- Julien Light. . . .
My father is pilot of the port. . . . Anybody will tell
you." . . .

"I will not forget," said I.

She bade us good-night very prettily, stepped back
out of the circle of torch-light, and vanished — there
is no other word for it.

" Gracious," said Speed, " wasn't that rather sudden?
Or is that the child yonder? No, it's a bush. Well,
Scarlett, there's an uncanny young one for you — no,
not uncanny, but a spirit in its most delicate sense.
I've an idea she's going to find poor Byram's lost luck
for him."

"Or break her neck," I observed.

Speed was quiet for a long while.

"By-the-way," he said, at last, "are you going to
tell the Countess about that fellow Buckhurst?"

"I sent a note to her before I fed my lions/' I replied.

"Are you going to see her?"

"If she desires it."

«3 193

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Who took the note, Scarlett?"

"Jacqueline's father, . . . that Lizard fellow."

" Well, don't let's stir up Buckhurst now," said Speed.
"Let's do what we can for the governor first."

" Of course/' said I. " And I'm going to bed. Good
night."

"Good-night," said Speed, thoughtfully. "I'll join
you in a moment."

When I was ready for bed and stood at the tent door,
peering out into the darkness, I saw Speed curled up on
a blanket between the elephant's forefeet, sound asleep.

xn

JACQUELINE

THE stars were still shining when I awoke in my
blanket, lighted a candle, and stepped into the
wooden tub of salt-water outside the tent.

I shaved by candle-light, dressed in my worn riding-
breeches and jacket, then, candle in hand, began grop
ing about among the faded bits of finery and tarnished
properties until I found the silver - scaled swimming-
tights once worn by the girl of whom we had heard so
much.

She was very young when she leaped to her death
in Antwerp — a slim slip of a creature, they said — so I
thought it likely that her suit might fit Jacqueline.

The stars had begun to fade when I stepped out
through the dew-soaked clover, carrying in one hand a
satchel containing the swimming - suit, in the other
a gun-case, in which, carefully oiled and doubly cased
in flannel, reposed my only luxury — my breech-loading
shot-gun.

The silence, intensified by the double thunder of the
breakers on the sands, was suddenly pierced by a far
cock-crow ; vague gray figures passed across the square
as I traversed it; a cow-bell tinkled near by, and I
smelt the fresh-blown wind from the downs.

Presently, as I turned into the cliff-path, I saw a
sober little Breton cow plodding patiently along ahead ;
beside her moved a fresh -faced maid of Paradise in

195

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

snowy collarette and white-winged head-dress, knitting
as she walked, fair head bent.

As I passed her she glanced up with tear -dimmed
eyes, murmuring the customary salutation: "Bon-
jour d'ac'h, m'sieu!" And I replied in the best patois
I could command: "Bonjour d'ec'h a laran, na oeled
Ket! Why do you cry, mademoiselle?"

" Cry, m'sieu? They are taking the men of Paradise
to the war. France must know how cruel she is to
take our men from us."

We had reached the green crest of the plateau; the
girl tethered her diminutive cow, sat down on a half-
imbedded stone, and continued her knitting, crying
softly all the while.

I asked her to direct me to the house where Robert,
the Lizard, lived ; she pointed with her needles to a large
stone house looming up in the gray light, built on the
rocks just under the beacon. It was white with sea-
slime and crusted salt, yet heavily and solidly built as
a fort, and doubtless very old, judging from the traces
of sculptured work over portal and windows.

I had scarcely expected to find the ragged Lizard and
more ragged Jacqueline housed in such an anciently
respectable structure, and I said so to the girl beside me.

"The house is bare as the bones of Sainte-Anne,"
she said. " There is nothing within — not even crumbs
enough for the cliff-rats, they say."

So I went away across the foggy, soaking moorland,
carrying my gun and satchel in their cases, descended
the grassy cleft, entered a cattle-path, and picked my
way across the wet, black rocks toward the abode of
the poacher.

The Lizard was standing on his doorsill when I
came up; he returned my greeting sullenly, his keen
e3~es of a sea-bird roving over me from head to foot.
A rumpled and sulky yellow cat, evidentlv just awake,

196

JACQUELINE

sat on the doorstep beside him and yawned at intervals.
The pair looked as though they had made a night of it.

"You took my letter last night?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Was there an answer for me?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't you have come to the camp and told me?"

" I could, but I had other matters to concern me,"
he replied. " Here's your letter/' and he fished it out
of his tattered pocket.

I was angry enough, but I did not wish to anger
him at that moment. So I took the letter and read it
— a formal line saying the Countess de Vassart would
expect me at five that afternoon.

"You are not noted for your courtesy, are you?"
I inquired, smiling.

Something resembling a grin touched his sea-scarred
visage.

"Oh, I knew you'd come for your answer," he said,
coolly.

"Look here, Lizard," I said, "I intend to be friends
with you, arid I mean to make you look on me as a
friend. It's to my advantage and to yours."

"To mine?" he inquired, sneeringly, amused.

" And this is the first thing I want," I continued ;
and without further preface I unfolded our plans con
cerning Jacqueline.

"Entendu," he said, drawling the word, "is that
all?"

"Do you consent?"

"Is that all?" he repeated, with Breton obstinacy.

"No, not all. I want you to be my messenger in
time of need. I want you to be absolutely faithful to
me."

"Is that all?" he drawled again.

"Yes, that is all."

197

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"And what is there in this, to my advantage,
m'sieu?"

"This, for one thing/' I said, carelessly, picking
up my gun-case. I slowly drew out the barrels of
Damascus, then the rose-wood stock and fore-end,
assembling them lovingly ; for it was the finest weapon
I had ever seen, and it was breaking my heart to give
it away.

The poacher's eyes began to glitter as I fitted the
double bolts and locked breech and barrel with the
extension rib. Then I snapped on the fore-end; and
there lay the gun in my hands, a fowling-piece fit for
an emperor.

"Give it?" muttered the poacher, huskily.

" Take it, my friend the Lizard," I replied, smiling
down the wrench in my heart.

There was a silence; then the poacher stepped
forward, and, looking me square in the eye, flung out
his hand. I struck my open palm smartly against his,
in the Breton fashion; then we clasped hands.

"You mean honestly by the little one?"

"Yes," I said; "strike palms by Sainte Thekla of
Yc6ne!"

We struck palms heavily.

"She is a child," he said; "there is no vice in her;
yet I've seen them nearly finished at her age in Paris."
And he swore terribly as he said it.

We dropped hands in silence; then, "Is this gun
mine?" he demanded, hoarsely.

"Yes."

"Strike!" he cried; "take my friendship if you want
it, on this condition — what I am is my own concern,
not yours. Don't interfere, m'sieu; it would be use
less. I should never betray you, but I might kill you.
Don't interfere. But if you care for the good-will of a
man like me, take it; and when you desire a service

198

JACQUELINE

from me, tell me, and I'll not fail you, by Sainte-Eline
of Paradise!"

" Strike palms," said I, gravely ; and we struck palms
thrice.

He turned on his heel, kicking off his sabots on the
doorsill. "Break bread with me; I ask it," he said,
gruffly, and stalked before me into the house.

The room was massive and of noble proportion, but
there was scarcely anything in it — a stained table, a
settle, a little pile of rags on the stone floor — no, not
rags, but Jacqueline's clothes! — and there at the end
of the great chamber, built into the wall, was the ancient
Breton bed with its Gothic carving and sliding panels
of black oak, carved like the lattice-work in a chapel
screen.

Outside dawn was breaking through a silver shoal
of clouds; already its slender tentacles of light were
probing the shadows behind the lattice where Jacque
line lay sleeping.

From the ashes on the hearth a spiral of smoke
curled. The yellow cat walked in and sat down, con
templating the ashes.

Slowly a saffron light filled the room; Jacqueline
awoke in the dim bed.

She pushed the panels aside and peered out, her
sea-blue eyes heavy with slumber.

"Ma doue"!" she murmured; "it is M'sieu Scarlett!
Aie! Aie! Am I a countess to sleep so late? Bon-
jour, m'sieu! Bonjour, papa!" She caught sight of
the yellow cat, "Et bien le bonjour, Ange Pitou!"

She swathed herself in a blanket and sat up, looking
at me sleepily.

"You came to see me swim," she said.

"And I've brought you a fish's silver skin to swim
in," I replied, pointing at the satchel.

She cast a swift glance at her father, who, with the
199

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

gun on his knees, sat as though hypnotized by the
beauty of its workmanship. Her bright eyes fell on
the gun; she understood in a flash.

"Then you'll take me?"

"If you swim as well as I hope you can."

"Turn your back!" she cried.

I wheeled about and sat down on the settle beside the
poacher. There came a light thud of small, bare feet
on the stone floor, then silence. The poacher looked up.

"She's gone to the ocean," he said; "she has the
mania for baths — like you English." And he fell to
rubbing the gunstock with dirty thumb.

The saffron light in the room was turning pink when
Jacqueline reappeared on the threshold in her ragged
skirt and stained velvet bodice half laced, with the
broken points hanging, carrying an armful of drift
wood.

Without a word she went to work; the driftwood
caught fire from the ashes, flaming up in exquisite
colors, now rosy, now delicate green, now violet; the
copper pot, swinging from the crane, began to steam,
then to simmer.

"Papa!"

"De quoi!' growled the poacher.

"Were you out last night?"

"Dame, I've just come in."

"Is there anything?"

The poacher gave me an oblique and evil glance,
then coolly answered : " Three pheasant, two partridges,
and a sea-trout in the net-shed. All are drawn."

So swiftly she worked that the pink light had scarcely
deepened to crimson when the poacher, laying the gun
tenderly in the blankets of Jacqueline's tumbled bed,
came striding back to the table where a sea-trout smoked
on a cracked platter, and a bowl of bread and milk stood
before each place.

200

JACQUELINE

We ate silently. Ange Pitou, the yellow cat, came
around with tail inflated. There were fishbones enough
to gratify any cat, and Ange Pitou made short work of
them.

The poacher bolted his food, sombre eyes brooding
or stealing across the room to the bed where his gun
lay. Jacqueline, to my amazement, ate as daintily
as a linnet, yet with a fresh, hearty unconsciousness
that left nothing in her bowl or wooden spoon.

"Schist?" inquired the poacher, lifting his tired eyes
to me. I nodded. So he brought a jug of cold, sweet
cider, and we all drank long and deeply, each in turn
slinging the jug over the crooked elbow.

The poacher rose, wiped his mouth with the back of
his hand, and made straight for his new gun.

"You two," he said, with a wave of his arm, "you
settle it among yourselves. Jacqueline, is it true that
Le Bihan saw woodcock dropping into the fen last
night?"

"He says so."

"He is not a liar — usually/' observed the poacher.
He touched his beret to me, flung the fowling-piece over
his shoulder, picked up a canvas bag in which I heard
cartridges rattling, stepped into his sabots, and walked
away. In a few moments the hysterical yelps of a dog,
pleased at the prospect of a hunt, broke out from the
net-shed.

Jacqueline placed the few dishes in a pan of hot
water, wiped her fingers, daintily, and picked up Ange
Pitou, who promptly acknowledged the courtesy by
bursting into a crackling purring.

"Show me the swimming-suit," she said, shyly.

I drew it out of the satchel and laid it across my knees.

" Oh, it has a little tail behind — like a fish !" she cried,
enchanted. "I shall look like the silver grilse of
Quimperle"!"

20T

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Do you think you can swim in those scales?" I
asked.

"Swim? I — Jacqueline? Attendez un peu — you
shall see!"

She laughed an excited, confident little laugh and
hugged Ange Pitou, who closed his eyes in ecstasy
sheathing and unsheathing his sharp claws.

"It is almost sunrise," I said.

"It lacks many minutes to sunrise," she replied.
"Ask Ange Pitou. At sunrise he leaves me; nothing
can hold him ; he does not bite or scratch, he just pushes
and pulls until my arms are tired. Then he goes.
It is always so."

"Why does he do that?"

" Ask him. I have often asked, but he never tells
me — do you, my friend? I think he's a moor-sprite
— perhaps a devil. Do devils hate all kinds of
water?"

"No, only holy water," I replied.

" Well, then, he's something else. Look! Look! He
is beginning ! See him push to get free, see him drive
his furry head into my hands. The sun is coming
up out of the sea! It will soon be here."

She opened her arms; the cat sprang to the door
step and Vctnished.

Jacqueline looked at the swimming-suit, then at me.
"Will you go down to the beach, M'sieu Scarlett?"

But I had not traversed half the strip of rock and
hard sand before something flew past — a slim, glitter
ing shape which suddenly doubled up, straightened
again, and fell headlong into the thundering surf.

The waves hurled her from crest to crest, clothing
her limbs in froth; the singing foam rolled her over
and over, stranding her on bubbling sands, until the
swell found her again, lifted her, and tossed her sea
ward into the wide, white arms of the breakers.

202

JACQUELINE

Back to land she drifted and scrambled up on the
beach, a slender, drenched figure, glistening and flash
ing with every movement.

Dainty of limb as a cat in wet grass, she shook the
spray from her fingers and scrubbed each palm with
sand, then sprang again headlong into the surf; there
was a flash, a spatter, and she vanished.

After a long, long while, far out on the water she
rose, floating.

Now the red sun, pushing above the ocean's leaden
rim, flung its crimson net across the water. String
after string of white-breasted sea-ducks beat to wind
ward from the cove, whirling out to sea ; the gray gulls
flapped low above the shoal and settled in rows along
the outer bar, tossing their sun-tipped wings ; the black
cormorant on the cliff craned its hideous neck, scanning
the ocean with restless, brilliant eyes.

Tossed back once more upon the beach like an opales
cent shell, Jacqueline, ankle-deep in foam, looked out
across the flaming waters, her drenched hair dripping.

From the gorse on cliff and headland, one by one the
larks shot skyward like amber rockets, trailing a shower
of melody till the whole sky rained song. The crested
vanneaux, passing out to sea, responded plaintively,
flapping their bronze-green wings.

The girl twisted her hair and wrung it till the last
salt drop had fallen. Sitting there in the sands, idle
ringers cracking the pods of gilded sea -weed, she
glanced up at me and laughed contentedly. Pres
ently she rose and walked out to a high ledge, mo
tioning me to follow. Far below, the sun -lit water
shimmered in a shallow basin of silver sand.

" Look \" she cried, flinging her arms above her head,
and dropped into space, falling like a star, down, down
into the shallow sea. Far below I saw a streak of liv
ing light shoot through the water — on, on, closer to the

203

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

surface now, and at last she fairly sprang into the air,
quivering like a gaffed salmon, then fell back to float
and clear her blue eyes from her tangled hair.

She gave me a glance full of malice as she landed,
knowing quite well that she had not only won, but had
given me a shock with her long dive into scarce three
feet of water.

Presently she climbed to the sun-warmed hillock of
sand and sat down beside me to dry her hair.

A langouste, in his flaming scarlet coat of mail,
passed through a glassy pool among the rocks, tread
ing sedately on pointed claws; the langons tunnelled
the oozing beach under her pink feet, like streams
of living quicksilver; the big, blue sea -crabs sidled
off the reef, sheering down sideways into limpid
depths. Landward the curlew walked in twos and
threes, swinging their long sickle bills; the sea-swal
lows drove by like gray snow -squalls, melting away
against the sky; a vitreous living creature, blazing
with purest sapphire light, floated past under water.

Ange Pitou, coveting a warm sun-bath in the sand,
came wandering along pretending not to see us; but
Jacqueline dragged him into her arms for a hug, which
lasted until Ange Pitou broke loose, tail hoisted but
ears deaf to further flattery.

So Jacqueline chased Ange Pitou back across the
sand and up the rocky path, pursuing her pet from
pillar to post with flying feet that fell as noiselessly
as the velvet pads of Ange Pitou.

"Come to the net-shed, if you please!" she called
back to me, pointing to a crazy wooden structure built
above the house.

As I entered the net - shed the child was dragging a
pile of sea-nets to the middle of the floor.

"In case I fall," she said, coolly.

" Better let me arrange them, then " I said, glancing
204

JACQUELINE

up at the improvised trapeze which dangled under the
roof-beams.

She thanked me, seized a long rope, and went up,
hand over hand. I piled the soft nets into a mattress,
but decided to stand near, not liking the arrangements.

Meanwhile Jacqueline was swinging, head down
ward, from her trapeze. Her cheeks flamed as she
twisted and wriggled through a complicated manoeu
vre, which ended by landing her seated on the bar of
the trapeze a trifle out of breath. With both hands
resting on the ropes, she started herself swinging,
faster, faster, then pretended to drop off backward,
only to catch herself with her heels, substitute heels
for hands, and hang. Doubling back on her own body,
she glided to her perch beneath the roof, shook her
damp hair back, set the trapeze flying, and curled up
on the bar, resting as fearlessly and securely as a
bullfinch in a tree-top.

Above her the red-and-black wasps buzzed and crawl
ed and explored the sun-scorched beams. Spiders
watched her from their silken hammocks, and the tiny
cliff-mice scuttled from beam to beam. Through the
open door the sunshine poured a flood of gold over the
floor where the bronzed nets were spread. Mending
was necessary ; she mentioned it, and set herself swing
ing again, crossing her feet.

"You think you could drop from there into a tank
of water?" I asked.

"How deep?"

"Say four feet."

She nodded, swinging tranquilly.

"Have you any fear at all, Jacqueline?"

"No."

"You would try whatever I asked you to try?"

"If I thought I could," she replied, naively.

" But that is not it. I am to be your master. You
205

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

must have absolute confidence in me and obey orders
instantly."

"Like a soldier?"

"Exactly."

"Bien."

"Then hang by your hands!"

Quick as a flash she hung above me.

"You trust me, Jacqueline?"

"Yes."

"Then drop!"

Down she flashed like a falling meteor. I caught her
with that quick trick known to all acrobats, which left
her standing on my knee.

"Jump!"

She sprang lightly to the heap of nets, lost her
balance, stumbled, and sat down very suddenly. Then
she threw back her head and laughed; peal on peal of
deliciously childish laughter rang through the ancient
net-shed, until, overhead, the passing gulls echoed her
mirth with querulous mewing, and the sea-hawk, tower
ing to the zenith, wheeled and squealed.

XIII
FRIENDS

AT seven o'clock that morning the men in the circus
camp awoke, worried, fatigued, vaguely resentful,
unusually profane. Horan was openly mutinous, and
announced his instant departure.

By eight o'clock a miraculous change had taken
place ; the camp was alive with scurrying people, gal
vanized into hopeful activity by my possibly unwarrant
ed optimism and a few judiciously veiled threats.

Clothed with temporary authority by Byram, I took
the bit between my teeth and ordered the instant erec
tion of the main tents, the construction of the ring,
barriers, and benches, and the immediate renovating
of the portable tank in which poor little Miss Claridge
had met her doom.

I detailed Kelly Eyre to Quimperle" with orders for
ten thousand crimson hand -bills; I sent McCadger,
with Dawley, the bass-drummer, and Irwin, the cornet-
tist, to plaster our posters from Pont Aven to Belle Isle,
and I gave them three days to get back, and promised
them a hundred dollars apiece if they succeeded in
sticking our bills on the fortifications of Lorient and
Quimper, with or without permission.

I sent Grigg and three exempt Bretons to beat up
the country from Gestel and Rosporden to Pontivy, clear
across to Quiberon, and as far east as St. Gildas Point.

By the standing-stones of Carnac, I swore that I'd
have all Finistere in that tent. "Governor," said I,

207

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" we are going to feature Jacqueline all over Brittany,
and, if the ladies object, it can't be helped ! By-the-
way, do they object?"

The ladies did object, otherwise they would not have
been human ladies; but the battle was sharp and de
cisive, for I was desperate.

"It simply amounts to this/' I said: "Jacqueline
pulls us through or the governor and I land in jail.
As for you, Heaven knows what will happen to you !
Penal settlement, probably."

And I called Speed and pointed at Jacqueline, sitting
on her satchel, watching the proceedings with amiable
curiosity.

" Speed, take that child and rehearse her. Begin as
soon as the tent is stretched and you can rig the flying
trapeze. Use the net, of course. Horan rehearsed Miss
Claridge; he'll stand by. Miss Crystal, your good-will
and advice I depend upon. Will you help me?"

"With all my heart," said Miss Crystal.

That impulsive reply broke the sullen deadlock.

Pretty little Mrs. Grigg went over and shook the
child's hand very cordially and talked broken French
to her; Miss Delany volunteered to give her some
" Christian clothes " ; Mrs. Horan burst into tears, com
plaining that everybody was conspiring to injure her
and her husband, but a few moments later she brought
Jacqueline some toast, tea, and fried eggs, an attention
shyly appreciated by the puzzled child, who never before
had made such a stir in the world.

"Don't stuff her," said Speed, as Mrs. Horan en
thusiastically trotted past bearing more toast. " Here,
Scarlett, the ladies are spoiling her. Can I take her
for the first lesson?"

Byram, who had shambled up, nodded. I was glad
to see him reassert his authority. Speed took the
child by the hand, and together they entered the big

FRIENDS

white tent, which now loomed up like a mammoth
mushroom against the blue sky.

"Governor," I said, "we're all a bit demoralized;
a few of us are mutinous. For Heaven's sake, let the
men see you are game. This child has got to win out
for us. Don't worry, don't object; back me up and let
me put this thing through."

The old man shoved his hands into his trousers-
pockets and looked at me with heavy, hopeless eyes.

"Now here's the sketch for the hand-bill," I said,
cheerfully, taking a pencilled memorandum from my
pocket. And I read:

"THE PATRIOTIC ANTI-PRUSSIAN REPUBLICAN CIRCUS,
MORE STUPENDOUS, MORE GIGANTIC, MORE

OVERPOWERING THAN EVER I
GLITTERING, MARVELLOUS, SOUL-COMPELLING I"

"What's 'soul-compelling'?" asked Byram.

"Anything you please, governor," I said, and read
on rapidly until I came to the paragraph concerning
Jacqueline :

"THE WONDER OF EARTH AND HEAVEN!

THE UNUTTERABLY BEAUTIFUL FLYING

MERMAID! CAUGHT ON THE

COAST OF BRITTANY!

WHAT IS SHE?

FISH? BIRD? HUMAN? DIVINE?

WHO KNOWS?

THE SCIENTISTS OF FRANCE DO NOT KNOW 11

THE SCIENTISTS OF THE WORLD

ARE CONFOUNDED!

IS SHE

A LOST SOUL

FROM THE SUNKEN CITY OF KER-YS?

50,000 FRANCS REWARD FOR THE BRETON WHO CAN

PROVE THAT SHE DID NOT COME STRAIGHT FROM

PARADISE I ! I"
i« 209

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"That's a damn good bill," said Byram, suddenly.

He was so seldom profane that I stared at him, wor
ried lest his misfortunes had unbalanced him. But
a faint, healthy color was already replacing the pallor
in his loose cheeks, a glint of animation came into his
sunken eyes. He lifted his battered silk hat, replaced
it at an angle almost defiant, and scowled at Horan,
who passed us sullenly, driving the camel tentwards
with awful profanity.

"Don't talk such langwidge in my presence, Mr.
Horan," he said, sharply ; " a camuel is a camuel, but
remember: 'kind hearts is more than cornets,' an' it's
easier for that there camuel to pass through the eye
of a needle than for a cussin' cuss to cuss his way into
Kingdom Come!"

Horan, who had betrayed unmistakable symptoms
of insubordination that morning, quailed under the
flowing rebuke. He was a man of muscular strength
and meagre intellect ; words hit him like trip-hammers.

"Certainly, governor," he stammered, and spoke to
the camel politely, guiding that enraged and squealing
quadruped to his manger with a forced smile.

With mallet, hammer, saw, and screw-driver I worked
until noon, maturing my plans all the while. These
plans would take the last penny in the treasury and
leave us in debt several thousand francs. But it was
win or go to smash now, and personally I have always
preferred a tremendous smash to a slow and oozy fizzle.

A big pot of fragrant soup was served to the company
at luncheon ; and it amused me to see Jacqueline troop
into the tent with the others and sit down with her bit
of bread and her bowl of broth.

She was flushed and excited, and she talked to her
instructor, Speed, all the while, chattering like a linnet
between mouthfuls of bread and broth.

"How is she getting on?" I called across to Speed.
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FRIENDS

"The child is simply startling/' he said, in English.
" She is not afraid of anything. She and Miss Crystal
have been doing that hair-raising ' flying swing ' with
out rehearsal I"

Jacqueline, hearing us talking in English, turned
and stared at me, then smiled and looketd up sweetly
at Speed.

"You seem to be popular with your pupil," I said,
laughing.

" She's a fine girl — a fine, fearless, straight-up-and-
down girl," he said, with enthusiasm.

Everybody appeared to like her, though how much
that liking might be modified if prosperity returned
I was unable to judge.

Now all our fortunes depended on her. She was not
a ballon d'essai; she was literally the whole show;
and if she duplicated the sensational success of poor
little Miss Claridge, we had nothing to fear. But her
troubles would then begin. At present, however, we
were waiting for her to pull us out of the hole before we
fell upon her and rent her professionally. And I use
that " we " not only professionally, but with an attempt
at chivalry.

Byram's buoyancy had returned in a measure. He
sat in his shirt-sleeves at the head of the table, vigor
ously sopping his tartine in his soup, and, mouth full,
leaned forward, chewing and listening to the conversa
tion around him.

Everybody knew it was life or death now, that each
one must drop petty jealousies and work for the com
mon salvation. An artificial and almost feverish ani
mation reigned, which I adroitly fed with alarming al
lusions to the rigor of the French law toward foreigners
and other malefactors who ran into debt to French
subjects on the sacred soil of France. And, having
lived so long in France and in the French possessions,

211

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

I was regarded as an oracle of authority by these am
bulant professional people who were already deadly
homesick, and who, in eighteen months of Europe, had
amassed scarcely a dozen French phrases among them
all.

"I'll say one thing," observed By ram, with dig
nity; "if ever I git out of this darn continong with
my circus, I'll recooperate in the undulatin' medders
an' j'yful vales of the United States. Hereafter that
country will continue to remain good enough for
me."

All applauded — all except Jacqueline, who looked
around in astonishment at the proceedings, and only
smiled when Speed explained in French.

"Ask maddermoselle if she'll go home with us?"
prompted Byram. "Tell her there's millions in it."

Speed put the question ; Jacqueline listened gravely,
hesitated, then whispered to Speed, who reddened a
trifle and laughed.

Everybody waited for a moment. "What does she
say?" inquired Byram.

"Oh, nothing; she talked nonsense."

But Jacqueline's dignity and serene face certainly
contradicted Speed's words.

Presently Byram arose, flourishing his napkin.
" Time's up!" he said, with decision, and we all trooped
off to our appointed labors.

Now that I had stirred up this beehive and set it
swarming again, I had no inclination to turn drone.
Yet I remembered my note to the Countess de Vassart
and her reply. So about four o'clock I made the best
toilet I could in my only other suit of clothes, and
walked out of the bustling camp into the square, where
the mossy fountain splashed under the oaks and the
children of Paradise were playing. Hands joined, they
danced in a ring, singing:

212

" tBarzig ha barzig a Goner i
Ari e mab roue gand daou pe dri "—

" Little minstrel-bard of Coneri

The son of the King has come with two or three-
Nay, with a whole bright flock of paroquets,
Crimson, silver, and violet."

And the children, in their white coiffes and tiny
wooden shoes, moved round and round the circle, in
the middle of which a little lad and a little lass of Par
adise stood motionless, hand clasping hand.

The couplet ended, the two children in the middle
sprang forward and dragged a third child out of the
circle. Then the song began again, the reduced circle
dancing around the three children in the middle.

" — The son of the King has come with two or three —
Nay, with a whole bright flock of paroquets,
Crimson, silver, and violet."

It was something like a game I had played long ago —
in the age of fable — and I lingered, touched with home
sickness.

The three children in the middle took a fourth com
rade from the circle, crying, " Will you go to the moon
or will you go to the stars?"

"The moon," lisped the little maid, and she was
led over to the fountain.

"The stars," said the first prisoner, and was con
ducted to the stone bridge.

Soon a small company was clustered on the bridge,
another band at the fountain. Then, as there were
no more to dance in a circle, the lad and lassie who had
stood in the middle to choose candidates for the moon
and stars clasped hands and danced gayly across the
square to the group of expectant children at the foun
tain, crying:

213

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" Baradozl Baradoz!'
(Paradise I Paradise 1)

and the whole band charged on the little group on the
bridge, shouting and laughing, while the unfortunate
tenants of the supposed infernal regions fled in every
direction, screaming:

" Pater noster
Dibi doub!
Dibi doub !
Dibi doub!"

Their shouts and laughter still came faintly from the
tree-shaded square as I crossed the bridge and walked
out into the moorland toward the sea, where I could
see the sun gilding the headland and the spouting-
rocks of Point Paradise.

Over the turning tide cormorants were flying, now
wheeling like hawks, now beating seaward in a duck-
like flight. I passed little, lonely pools on the moor,
from which snipe rose with a startling squak! squak!
and darted away inland as though tempest blown.

Presently a blue-gray mass in mid-ocean caught
my eye. It was the island of Groix, and between it
and Point Paradise lay an ugly, naked, black shape,
motionless, oozing smoke from two stubby funnels —
the cruiser Fer-de-Lance I So solidly inert lay the iron
clad that it did not seem as if she had ever moved or
ever could move; she looked like an imbedded ledge
cropping up out of the sea.

Far across the hilly moorland the white semaphore
glistened like a gull's wing — too far for me to see the
balls and cones hoisted or the bright signals glimmer
ing along the halyards as I followed a trodden path
winding south through the gorse. Then a dip in the
moorland hid the semaphore and at the same moment

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FRIENDS

brought a house into full view — a large, solid structure
of dark stone, heavily Romanesque, walled in by an
ancient buttressed barrier, above which I could see the
tree-tops of a fruit-garden.

The Chateau de Trecourt was a fine example of the
so called "fortified farm"; it had its moat, too, and
crumbling wing-walls, pierced by loop-holes and over
hung with miniature battlements. A walled and loop-
holed passageway connected the house with another
stone enclosure in which stood stable, granary, cattle-
house, and sheepfold, all of stone, though the roofs
of these buildings were either turfed or thatched. And
over them the weather-vane, a golden Dorado, swam
in the sunshine.

One thing I noticed as I crossed the unused moat on
a permanent bridge: the youthful Countess no longer
denied herself the services of servants, for I saw a
cloaked shepherd and his two wolf-like and tailless
sheep-dogs watching the flock scattered over the
downs; and there were at least half a dozen farm ser
vants pottering about from stable to granary, and a
toothless porter to answer the gate-bell and pilot me
past, the tiny loop-holed lodge -turret to the house.
There was also a man, lying belly down in the bracken,
watching me; and as I walked into the court I tried to
remember where I had seen his face before.

The entire front of the house was covered with those
splendid orange-tinted tea-roses that I had noticed in
Paradise; thicket on thicket of clove - scented pinks
choked the flower-beds; and a broad mat of deep-
tinted pansies lay on the lawn, spread out for all the
world like a glorious Eastern rug.

There was a soft whirring in the air like the sound of a
humming-bird close by; it came from a spinning-wheel,
and grew louder as a servant admitted me into the house
and guided me to a sunny room facing the fruit garden.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The spinner at the wheel was singing in an under
tone — singing a Breton "gwerz," centuries old, re
tained in memory from generation to generation :

" Woe to the Maids of Paradise,

Yvonne !
Twice have the Saxons landed; twice!

Yvonne I
Yet must Paradise see them thrice I

Yvonne ! Yvonne ! Marivonik."

Old as were the words, the melody was older — so
old and quaint and sweet that it seemed a berceuse
fashioned to soothe the drowsing centuries, lest the
memories of ancient wrongs awake and rouse the very
dead from their Gothic tombs.

All the sad history of the Breton race was written in
every minor note; all the mystery, the gentleness, the
faith of the lost people of Armorica.

And now the singer was intoning the " Gwerz Ar
Baradoz " — the "Complaint of Paradise" — a slow,
thrilling mise're'r^, scarcely dominating the velvet whir
of the spinning-wheel.

Suddenly the melody ceased, and a young Bretonne
girl appeared in the doorway, courtesying to me and
saying in perfect English : " How do you do, Mr.
Scarlett; and how do you like my spinning songs, if
you please?"

The girl was Mademoiselle Sylvia Elven, the mar
vellously clever actress from the OdSon, the same young
woman who had played the Alsacienne at La Trappe,
as perfectly in voice and costume as she now played
the Bretonne.

"You need not be astonished at all," she said, calm
ly, "if you will only reflect that my name is Elven,
which is also the name of a Breton town. Naturalh",
I am a Bretonne from Elven, and my own name is

216

FRIENDS

Duhamel — Sylvenne Duhamel. I thought I ought to
tell you, so that you would not think me too clever
and try to carry me off on your horse again."

I laughed uncertainly ; clever women who talk clev
erly always disturb me. Besides, somehow, I felt she
was not speaking the truth, yet I could not imagine
why she should lie to me.

"You were more fluent to the helpless turkey-girl,"
she suggested, maliciously.

I had absolutely nothing to say, which appeared to
gratify her, for she dimpled and smiled under her
snowy-winged coiffe, from which a thick gold strand
of hair curled on her forehead — a sad bit of coquetry
in a Bretonne from Elven, if she told the truth.

"I only came to renew an old and deeply valued
friendship," she said, with mock sentimentality; "I
am going back to my flax now."

However, she did not move.

" And, by-the-way," she said, languidly, " is there
in your intellectual circus company a young gentleman
whose name is Eyre?"

"Kelly Eyre? Yes," I said, sulkily.

"Ah."

She strolled out of the room, hesitated, then turned
in the doorway with a charming smile.

"The Countess will return from her gallop at five."

She waited as though expecting an answer, but I
only bowed.

" Would you take a message to Mistaire Kelly Eyre
for me?" she asked, sweetly.

I said that I would.

" Then please say that : ' On Sunday the book-stores
are dosed in Paris.' '

"Is that what I am to say?"

"Exactly that."

"Very well, mademoiselle."
217

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Of course, if he asks who told you — you may say
that it was a Bretorme at Point Paradise."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing, monsieur."

She courtesied and vanished.

"Little minx," I thought, "what mischief are you
preparing now?" and I rested my elbow on the window-
sill and gazed out into the garden, where apricot-trees
and fig-trees lined the winding walks between beds of
old-fashioned herbs, anise, basil, caraway, mint, sage,
and saffron.

Sunlight lay warm on wall and gravel-path; scarlet
apples hung aloft on a few young trees ; a pair of trim,
wary magpies explored the fig-trees, sometimes quarrel
ling, sometimes making common cause against the
shy wild-birds that twittered everywhere among the
vines.

I fancied, after a few moments, that I heard the
distant thudding of a horse's hoofs ; soon I was sure of
it, and rose to my feet expectantly, just as a flushed
young girl in a riding-habit entered the room and gave
me her gloved hand.

Her fresh, breezy beauty astonished me; could this
laughing, gray-eyed girl with her silky, copper-tinted
hair be the same slender, grave young Countess whom
I had known in Alsace' — this incarnation of all that is
wholesome and sweet and winning in woman? What
had become of her mission and the soiled brethren of
the proletariat? What had happened?

I looked at her earnestly, scarcely understanding
that she was saying she was glad I had come, that she
had waited for me, that she had wanted to see me, that
she had wished to tell me how deeply our tragic ex
perience at La Trappe and in Morsbronn had impressed
her. She said she had sent a letter to me in Paris
which was returned, opened, with a strange note from

218

FRIENDS

Monsieur Mornac. She had waited for some word
from me, here in Paradise, since September; "waited
impatiently," she added, and a slight frown bent her
straight brows for a moment — a moment only.

" But come out to my garden," she said, smiling, and
stripping off her little buff gauntlets. " There we will
have tea a TAnglaise, and sunshine, and a long, long,
satisfying talk; at least I will," she added, laughing
and coloring up; "for truly, Monsieur Scarlett, I do
not believe I have given you one second to open your
lips."

Heaven knows I was perfectly content to watch her
lips and listen to the music of her happy, breathless
voice without breaking the spell with my own.

She led the way along a path under the apricots to
a seat against a sunny wall, a wall built of massive
granite, deeply thatched with fungus and lichens,
where, palpitating in the hot sun, the tiny lizards
lay glittering, and the scarlet-banded nettle-butterflies
flitted and hovered and settled to sun themselves, wings
a-droop.

Here in the sunshine the tea-rose perfume, mingling
with the incense of the sea, mounted to my head like
the first flush of wine to a man long fasting ; or was it
the enchantment of her youth and loveliness — the
subtle influence of physical vigor and spiritual in
nocence on a tired, unstrung man?

"First of all," she said, impulsively, "I know your
life — all of it in minute particular. Are you as
tonished?"

"No, madame," I replied; "Mornac showed you my
dossier."

" That is true," she said, with a troubled look of
surprise.

I smiled. " As for Mornac/' I began, but she inter
rupted me.

219

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" Ah, Mornac ! Do you suppose I believed him ? Had
I not proof on proof of your loyalty, your honor, your
courtesy, your chivalry — "

"Madame, your generosity — and, I fear, your pity —
overpraises."

" No, it does not ! I know what you are. Mornac
cannot make white black! I know what you have
been. Mornac could not read you into infamy, even
with your dossier under my own eyes!"

"In my dossier you read a sorry history, madame."

"In your dossier I read the tragedy of a gentle
man."

" Do you know," said I, " that I am now a performer
in a third-rate travelling circus?"

" I think that is very sad," she said, swreetly.

"Sad? Oh no. It is better than the disciplinary
battalions, of Africa."

Which was simply acknowledging that I had served
a term in prison.

The color faded in her face. " I thought you were
pardoned."

" I was — from prison, not from the battalion of
Biribi."

"I only know," she said, "that they say you were
not guilty; that they say you faced utter ruin, even
the possibility of death, for the sake of another man
whose name even the police — even Monsieur de Mornac
— could never learn. Was there such a man?"

I hesitated. " Madame, there is such a man ; / am
the man who KXLS."

"With no hope?"

"Hope? With every hope," I said, smiling. "My
name is not my own, but it must serve me to my end,
and I shall wear it threadbare and leave it to no
one."

"Is there no hope?" she asked, quietly.

220

FRIENDS

"None for the man who was. Much for James
Scarlett, tamer of lions and general mountebank/' I
said, laughing down the rising tide of bitterness. Why
had she stirred those dark waters? I had drowned
myself in them long since. Under them lay the corpse
of a man I had forgotten — my dead self.

"No hope?" she repeated.

Suddenly the ghost of all I had lost rose before me
with her words — rose at last after all these years, tower
ing, terrible, free once more to fill the days with loath
ing and my nights with hell eternal, . . . after all these
years !

Overwhelmed, I fought down the spectre in silence.
Kith and kin were not all in the world ; love of woman
was not all ; a chance for a home, a wife, children, were
not all ; a name was not all. Raising my head, a trifle
faint with the struggle and the cost of the struggle,
I saw the distress in her eyes and strove to smile.

"There is every hope/' I said, "save the hopes of
youth — the hope of a woman's love, and of that hap
piness which comes through love. I am a man past
thirty, madame — thirty-five, I believe my dossier makes
it. It has taken me fifteen years to bury my youth.
Let us talk of Mornac."

"Yes, we will talk of Mornac," she said, gently.

So with infinite pains I went back and traced for
her the career of Buckhurst, sparing her nothing; I
led up to my own appearance on the scene, reviewed
briefly what we both knew, then disclosed to her in its
most trivial detail the conference between Buckhurst
and myself in which his cynical avowal was revealed
in all its native hideousness.

She sat motionless, her face like cold marble, as I
carefully gathered the threads of the plot and gently
twitched that one which galvanized the mask of Mornac.

"Mornac!" she stammered, aghast.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

I showed her why Buckhurst desired to come to
Paradise; I showed her why Mornac had initiated her
into the mysteries of my dossier, taking that infernal
precaution, although he had every reason to believe
he had me practically in prison, with the keys in his
own pocket.

"Had it not been for my comrade, Speed," I said,
"I should be in one of Mornac 's fortress cells. He
overshot the mark when he left us together and stepped
into his cabinet to spread my dossier before you. He
counted on an innocent man going through hell itself
to prove his innocence; he counted on me, and left
Speed out of his calculations. He had your testi
mony, he had my dossier, he had the order for my
arrest in his pocket. . . . And then I stepped, out of
sight! I, the honest fool, with my knowledge of his
infamy, of Buckhurst's complicity and purposes — I
was gone.

"And now mark the irony of the whole thing: he
had, criminally, destroyed the only bureau that could
ever have caught me. But he did his best during the
few weeks that were left him before the battle of Sedan.
After that it was too late ; it was too late when the first
Uhlan appeared before the gates of Paris. And now
Mornac, shorn of authority, is shut up in a city
surrounded by a wall of German steel, through which
not one single living creature has penetrated for two
months."

I looked at her steadily. "Eliminate Mornac as a
trapped rat; cancel him as a dead rat since the ship
of Empire went down at Sedan. I do not know what
has taken place in Paris — save what all now know
that the Empire is ended, the Republic proclaimed, and
the Imperial police a memory. Then let us strike out
Mornac and turn to Buckhurst. Madame, I am here
to serve you."

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FRIENDS

The dazed horror in her face which had marked my
revelations of Buckhurst's villanies gave place to a
mantling flush of pure anger. Shame crimsoned her
neck, too ; shame for her credulous innocence, her belief
in this rogue who had betrayed her, only to receive
pardon for the purpose of baser and more murderous
betrayal.

I said nothing for a long time, content to leave her
to her own thoughts. The bitter draught she was
draining could not harm her, could not but act as the
most wholesome of tonics.

Hers was not a weak character to sink, embittered,
under the weight of knowledge — knowledge of evil,
that all must learn to carry lightly through life ; I had
once thought her weak, but I had revised that opinion
and substituted the words " pure in thought, inherently
loyal, essentially unsuspicious."

"Tell me about Buckhurst/' I said, quietly. "I
can help you, I think."

The quick tears of humiliation glimmered for a
second in her angry eyes; then pride fell from her,
like a stately mantle which a princess puts aside, tired
and content to rest.

This was a phase I had never before seen — a lovely,
natural young girl, perplexed, troubled, deeply wounded,
ready to be guided, ready for reproof, perhaps even for
that sympathy without which reproof is almost valueless.

She told me that Buckhurst came to her house here
in Paradise early in September; that while in Paris,
pondering on what I had said, she had determined to
withdraw herself absolutely from all organized social
istic associations during the war; that she believed
she could do the greatest good by living a natural and
cheerful life, by maintaining the position that birth
and fortune had given her, and by using that position
and fortune for the benefit of those less fortunate.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

This she had told Buckhurst, and the rascal appeared
to agree with her so thoroughly that, when Dr. Delmont
and Professor Ta vernier arrived, they also applauded
the choice she made of Buckhurst as distributer of
money, food, and clothing to the provincial hospitals,
now crowded to suffocation with the wreck of battle.

Then a strange thing occurred. Dr. Delmont and
Professor Tavernier disappeared without any explana
tion. They had started for St. Nazaire with a sum of
money — twenty thousand francs, locked in the private
strong-box of the Countess — to be distributed among
the soldiers of Chanzy; and they had never re
turned.

In the light of what she had learned from me, she
feared that Buckhurst had won them over; perhaps
not — she could not bear to suspect evil of such
men.

But she now believed that Buckhurst had used every
penny he had handled for his own purposes ; that not
one hospital had received what she had sent.

"I am no longer wealthy," she said, anxiously,
looking up at me. " I did find time in Paris to have
matters straightened; I sold La Trappe and paid
everything. It left me with this house in Paradise,
and with means to maintain it and still have a few
thousand francs to give every year. Now it is nearly
gone — I don't know where. I am dreadfully unhappy ;
I have such a horror of treachery that I cannot even
understand it, but this ignoble man, Buckhurst, is
assuredly a heartless rascal."

" But," I said, patiently, " you have not yet told me
where he is."

"I don't know," she said. "A week ago a dreadful
creature came here to see Buckhurst ; they went across
the moor toward the semaphore and stood for a long
while looking at the cruiser which is anchored off Groix.

224

FRIENDS

Then Buckhurst came back and prepared for a jour
ney. He said he was going to Tours to confer with
the Red Cross. I don't know where he went. He took
all the money for the general Red Cross fund."
"When did he say he would return?"
"He said in two weeks. He has another week
yet."

"Is he usually prompt?"

"Always so — to the minute."

"That is good news," I said, gayly. "But tell me
one thing: do you trust Mademoiselle Elven?"

"Yes, indeed! — indeed!" she cried, horrified.

"Very well," said I, smiling. "Only for the sake
of caution — extra, and even perhaps useless caution —
say nothing of this matter to her, nor to any living soul
save me."

"I promise," she said, faintly.

" One thing more : this conspiracy against the state
no longer concerns me — officially. Both Speed and
I did all we could to warn the Emperor and the Em
press ; we sent letters through the police in London, we
used the English secret-service to get our letters into
the Emperor's hand, we tried every known method of
denouncing Mornac. It was useless ; every letter must
have gone through Mornac 's hands before it reached
the throne. We did all we dared do ; we were in disguise
and in hiding under assumed names ; we could not do
more.

" Now that Mornac is not even a pawn in the game —
as, indeed, I begin to believe he never really was, but
has been from the first a dupe of Buckhurst — it is the
duty of every honest man to watch Buckhurst and warn
the authorities that he possibly has designs on the
crown jewels of France, which that cruiser yonder is
all ready to bear away to Saigon.

" How he proposes to attempt such a robbery I can't
15 225

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

imagine. I don't want to denounce him to General
Chanzy or Aurelles de Palladine, because the con
spiracy is too widely spread and too dangerous to be
defeated by the capture of one man, even though he
be the head of it.

" What I want is to entrap the entire band ; and that
can only be done by watching Buckhurst, not arresting
him.

" Therefore, madame, I have written and despatched
a telegram to General Aurelles de Palladine, offering
my services and the services of Mr. Speed to the Re
public without compensation. In the event of accept
ance, I shall send to London for two men who will do
what is to be done, leaving me free to amuse the pub
lic with my lions. Meanwhile, as long as we stay in
Paradise we both are your devoted servants, and we
beg the privilege of serving you."

During all this time the young Countess had never
moved her eyes from my face — perhaps I was flattered
— perhaps for that reason I talked on and on, pouring
out wisdom from a somewhat attenuated supply.

And I now rose to take my leave, bowing my very
best bow; but she sat still, looking up quietly at
me.

"You ask the privilege of serving me," she said.
"You could serve me best by giving me your friend
ship."

"You have my devotion, madame," I said.

"I did not ask it. I asked your friendship — in all
frankness and equality."

" Do you desire the friendship of a circus performer?"
I asked, smiling.

" I desire it, not only for what you are, but for what you
have been — have always been, let them say what they
will!"

I was silent.

226

FRIENDS

"Have you never given women your friendship?"
she asked.

"Not in fifteen years — nor asked theirs."

"Will you not ask mine?"

I tried to speak steadily, but my voice was uncertain;
I sat down, crushed under a flood of memories, hopes
accursed, ambitions damned and consigned to ob
livion.

" You are very kind," I said. " You are the Countess
de Vassart. A man is what he makes himself. I have
made myself — with both eyes open; and I am now an
acrobat and a tamer of beasts. I understand your
goodness, your impulse to help those less fortunate
than yourself. I also understand that I have placed
myself where I am, and that, having done so delib
erately, I cannot meet as friends and equals those
who might have been my equals if not friends. Be
sides that, I am a native of a paradox — a Republic
which, though caste -bound, knows no caste abroad.
I might, therefore, have been your friend if you had
chosen to waive the traditions of your continent and
accept the traditions of mine. But now, madame, I
must beg permission to make my adieux. "

She sprang up and caught both my hands in her un
gloved hands. "Won't you take my friendship — and
give me yours — my friend?"

"Yes," I said, slowly. The blood beat in my tem
ples, almost blinding me; my heart hammered in my
throat till I shivered.

As in a dream I bent forward; she abandoned her
hands to me; and I touched a woman's hands with my
lips for the first time in fifteen years.

"In all devotion and loyalty — and gratitude," I
said.

"And in friendship — say it!"

"In friendship." ,„ '-

227

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" Now you may go — if you desire to. When will you
come again?"
"When may I?"
"When you wiU."

XIV

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

ABOUT nine o'clock the next morning an incident
occurred which might have terminated my career
in one way, and did, ultimately, end it in another.

I had been exercising my lions and putting them
through their paces, and had noticed no unusual in
subordination among them, when suddenly, Timour
Melek, a big Algerian lion, flew at me without the
slightest provocation or warning.

Fortunately I had a training-chair in my hand, on
which Timour had just been sitting, and I had time
to thrust it into his face. Thrice with incredible swift
ness he struck the iron-chair, right, left, and right, as
a cat strikes, then seized it in his teeth. At the same
moment I brought my loaded whip heavily across his
nose.

"Down, Timour Melek! Down! down! down!" I
said, steadily, accompanying each word with a blow
of the whip across the nose.

The brute had only hurt himself when he struck the
chair, and now, under the blows raining on his sensitive
nose, he doubtless remembered similar episodes in his
early training, and shrank back, nearly deafening me
with his roars. I followed, punishing him, and he
fled towards the low iron grating which separated the
training-cage from the night-quarters.

This I am now inclined to believe was a mistake of
229

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

judgment on my part. I should have driven him into
a corner and thoroughly cowed him, using the training-
chair if necessary, and trusting to my two assistants
with their irons, who had already closed up on either
side of the cage.

I was not in perfect trim that morning. Not that I
felt nervous in the least, nor had I any lack of self-con
fidence, but I was not myself. I had never in my life
entered a lion-cage feeling as I did that morning —
an indifference which almost amounted to laziness,
an apathy which came close to melancholy.

The lions knew I was not myself — they had been
aware of it as soon as I set foot in their cage; and I
knew it. But my strange apathy only increased as I
went about my business, perfectly aware all the time
that, with lions born in captivity, the unexpected is
always to be expected.

Timour Melek was now close to the low iron door be
tween the partitions; the other lions had become un
usually excited, bounding at a heavy gallop around
the cage, or clinging to the bars like enormous cats.

Then, as I faced Timour, ready to force him back
ward through the door into the night-quarters, some
thing in the blank glare of his eyes seemed to fascinate
me. I had an absurd sensation that he was slipping
away from me — escaping ; that I no longer dominated
him nor had authority. It was not panic, nor even
fear ; it was a faint paralysis — temporary, fortunately ;
for at that instant instinct saved me ; I struck the lion
a terrific blow across the nose and whirled around,
chair uplifted, just in time to receive the charge of
Empress Khatoun, consort of Timour.

She struck the iron-bound chair, doubling it up
like crumpled paper, hurling me headlong, not to the
floor of the cage, but straight through the sliding-bars
which Speed had just flung open with a shout. As

230

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

for me, I landed violently on my back in the sawdust,
the breath knocked clean out of me.

When I could catch my breath again I realized that
there was no time to waste. Speed looked at me an
grily, but I jerked open the grating, flung another
chair into the cage, leaped in, and, singling out Empress
Khatoun, I sailed into her with passionless thorough
ness, punishing her to a stand-still, while the other
lions, Aicha, Marghouz, Timour, and Genghis Khan
snarled and watched me steadily.

As I emerged from the cage Speed asked me whether
I was hurt, and I gasped out that I was not.

"What went wrong?" he persisted.

" Timour and that young lioness — no, I went wrong ;
the lions knew it at once ; something failed me, I don't
know what ; upon my soul, Speed, I don't know what
happened."

"You lost your nerve?"

"No, not that. Timour began looking at me in a
peculiar way — he certainly dominated me for an in
stant — for a tenth of a second; and then Khatoun
flew at me before I could control Timour — "

I hesitated.

" Speed, it was one of those seconds that come to us,
when the faintest shadow of indecision settles matters.
Engineers are subject to it at the throttle, pilots at the
helm, captains in battle — "

"Men in love," added Speed.

I looked at him, not comprehending.

"By -the -way," said Speed, "Leo Grammont, the
greatest lion-tamer who ever lived, once told me that
a man in love with a woman could not control lions;
that when a man falls in love he loses that intangible,
mysterious quality — call it mesmerism or whatever
you like — the occult force that dominates beasts. And
he said that the lions knew it, that they perceived it

231

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

sometimes even before the man himself was aware that
he was in love."

I looked him over in astonishment.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, amused.

"What's the matter with you?" I demanded. "If
you mean to intimate that I have fallen in love you are
certainly an astonishing ass!"

"Don't talk that way," he said, good-humoredly.
" I didn't dream of such a thing, or of offending you,
Scarlett."

It struck me at the same moment that my irritable
and unwarranted retort was utterly unlike me.

"I beg your pardon," I said. " I don't know exactly
what is the matter with me to - day. First I quarrel
with poor old Timour Melek, then I insult you. I've
discovered that I have nerves; I never before knew
it."

"Cold flap-jacks and cider would have destroyed
Hercules himself in time," observed Speed, following
with his eyes the movements of a lithe young girl,
who was busy with the hoisting apparatus of the fly
ing trapeze. The girl was Jacqueline, dressed in a
mended gown of Miss Delany's.

" At times," muttered Speed, partly to himself, " that
little witch frightens me. There is no risk she
dares not take ; even Horan gets nervous ; and when
that bull -necked numbskull is scared there's reason
for it."

We walked out into the main tent, where simulta
neous rehearsals were everywhere in progress; and I
picked up the ring-master's whip and sent it curling
after "Briza," a harmless, fat, white mare on which
pretty Mrs. Grigg was sitting expectantly. Round and
round the ring she cantered, now astride two horses,
now guiding a "spike," practising assiduously her
acrobatics. At intervals, far up in the rigging over-

232

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

head, I caught glimpses of Miss Crystal swinging on
her trapeze, watching the ring below.

Byram came in to rehearse the opening proces
sional and to rebuke his dearest foe, the unspeakable
"camuel," bestridden by Mrs. Horan as Fatima, Queen
of the Desert. Speed followed, squatted on the head of
the elephant, ankus on thigh, shouting, " Hout! Mail!
Djebe" Noain! Mail the hezarl Mail!" he thundered,
triumphantly, saluting Byram with lifted ankus as the
elephant ambled past in a cloud of dust.

"Clear the ring!" cried Byram.

Miss Delany, who was outlining Jacqueline with
juggler's knives, began to pull her stock of cutlery
from the soft pine backing ; elephant, camel, horses
trampled out; Miss Crystal caught a dangling rope
and slid earthward, and I turned and walked towards
the outer door with Byram.

As I looked back for an instant I saw Jacqueline, in
her glittering diving-skin, calmly step out of her dis
carded skirt and walk towards the sunken tank in the
middle of the ring, which three workmen were uncover
ing.

She was to rehearse her perilous leap for the first
time to-day, and I told Speed frankly that I was too
nervous to be present, and so left him staring across
the dusky tent at the slim child in spangles.

I had an appointment to meet Robert the Lizard at
noon, and I was rather curious to find out how much
his promises were worth when the novelty of his new
gun had grown stale. So I started towards the cliffs,
nibbling a crust of bread for luncheon, though the in
cident of the morning had left me small appetite for
food.

The poacher was sunning himself on his door-sill
when T came into view over the black basalt rocks.
To my surprise, he touched his cap as I approached,

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

and rose civilly, replying to my greeting with a brief,
"Salute, m'sieu!"

"You are prompt to the minute," I said, pleasantly.

" You also/' he observed. " We are quits, m'sieu —
so far."

I told him of the progress that Jacqueline was mak
ing; he listened in silence, and whether or not he was
interested I could not determine.

There was a pause; I looked out across the sun-lit
ocean, taking time to arrange the order of the few
questions which I had to ask.

"Come to the point, m'sieu," he said, dryly. "We
have struck palms."

Spite of my training, spite of the caution which ex
perience brings to the most unsuspicious, of us, I had
a curious confidence in this tattered rascal's loyalty
to a promise. And apparently without reason, too,
for there was something wrong with his eyes — or else
with the way he used them. They were wonderful,
vivid blue eyes, well set and well shaped, but he never
looked at anybody directly except in moments of excite
ment or fury. At such moments his eyes appeared to
be lighted up from behind.

"Lizard/' I said, "you are a poacher."

His placid visage turned stormy.

"None of that, m'sieu," he retorted; "remember the
bargain! Concern yourself with your own affairs!"

"Wait," I said. "I'm not trying to reform you.
For my purposes it is a poacher I want — else I might
have gone to another."

" That sounds more reasonable/' he admitted, guard
edly.

" I want to ask this," I continued : " are you a poach
er from necessity, or from that pure love of the chase
which is born in even worse men than you and I?"

"I poach because I love it. There are no poachers
234

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

from necessity ; there is always the sea, which furnishes
work for all who care to steer a sloop, or draw a seine,
or wield a sea-rake. I am a pilot. "

"But the war?"

" At least the war could not keep me from the sardine
grounds/'

"So you poach from choice?"

" Yes. It is in me. I am sorry, but what shall I do?
It's in me."

"And you can't resist?"

He laughed grimly. "Go and call in the hounds
from the stag's throat!"

Presently I said :

"You have been in jail?"

"Yes," he replied, indifferently.

"For poaching?"

"Eur e'harvik rous," he said in Breton, and I could
not make out whether he meant that he had been in
jail for the sake of a woman or of a "little red doe."
The Breton language bristles with double meanings,
symbols, and allegories. The word for doe in Breton
is karvez ; or for a doe which never had a fawn, it is
heiez; for a fawn the word is karvik.

I mentioned these facts to him, but he only looked
dangerous and remained silent.

" Lizard," I said, " give me your confidence as I give
you mine. I will tell you now that I was once in the
police — "

He started.

" And that I expect to enter that corps again. And
I want your aid."

"My aid? For the police?" His laugh was simply
horrible. "I? The Lizard? Continue, m'sieu."

" I will tell you why. Yesterday, on a visit to Point
Paradise, I saw a man lying belly down in the bracken ;
but I didn't let him know I saw him. I have served

235

THE MAIDS OP PARADISE

in the police ; I think I recognize that man. He is
known in Belleville as Tric-Trac. He came here, I
believe, to see a man called Buckhurst. Can you
find this Tric-Trac for me? Do you, perhaps, know
him?"

"Yes," said the Lizard, "I knew him in prison."

"You have seen him here?"

"Yes, but I will not betray him."

"Why?"

" Because he is a poor, hunted devil of a poacher like
me 1" cried the Lizard, angrily. " He must live ; there's
enough land in Finistere for us both."

"How long has he been here in Paradise?"

"For two months."

"And he told you he lived by poaching?"

"Yes."

"He lies."

The Lizard looked at me intently.

" He has played you ; he is a thief, and he has come
here to rob. He is a filou — a town rat. Can he bend
a hedge-snare? Can he line a string of dead-falls?
Can he even snare enough game to keep himself from
starving? He a woodsman? He a poacher of the
bracken? You are simple, my friend."

The veins in the poacher's neck began to swell and
a dull color flooded his face.

"Prove that he has played me," he said.

"Prove it yourself."

"How?"

"By watching him. He came here to meet a man
named Buckhurst."

"I have seen that man Buckhurst, too. What is
he doing here?" asked the Lizard.

" That is what I want you to find out and help me to
find out!" I said. "Voila! Now you know what I
want of you."

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THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

The sombre visage of the poacher twitched.

"I take it," said I, "that you would not make a
comrade of a petty pickpocket."

The poacher uttered an oath and shook his fist at
me. "Bon sang!" he snarled, "I am an honest man
if I am a poacher!"

"That's the reason I trusted you," said I, good-
humoredly. "Take your fists down, my friend, and
think out a plan which will permit me to observe this
Monsieur Tric-Trac at my leisure, without I myself
being observed."

"That is easy," he said. "I take him food to
day."

"Then I was right," said I, laughing. "He is a
Belleville rat, who cannot feed himself where there are
no pockets to pick. Does he know a languste from a
linnet? Not he, my friend!"

The Lizard sat still, head bent, knees drawn up, ap
parently buried in thought. There is no injury one
can do a Breton of his class like the injury of deceiving
and mocking.

If Tric-Trac, a man of the city, had come here to
profit by the ignorance of a Breton — and perhaps
laugh at his stupidity!

But I let the ferment work in the dark blood of the
Lizard, leaving him to his own sombre logic, undis
turbed.

Presently the Lizard raised his head and fixed his
bright, intelligent eyes on me.

"M'sieu," he said, in a curiously gentle voice, "we
men of Paradise are called out for the army. I must
go, or go to jail. How can I remain here and help you
trap these filous?"

"I have telegraphed to General Chanzy," I said,
frankly. "If he accepts— or if General Aurelles de
Palladine is favorable — I shall make you exempt under

237

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

authority from Tours. I mean to keep you in my
service, anyway/' I added.

"You mean that — that I need not go to Lorient — to
this war?"

"I hope so, my friend."

He looked at me, astonished. " If you can do that,
m'sieu, you can do anything."

"In the meanwhile," I said, dryly, "I want another
look at Tric-Trac."

" I could show you Tric-Trac in an hour — but to
go to him direct would excite his suspicion. Besides,
there are two gendarmes in Paradise to conduct the
conscripts to Lorient; there are also several gardes-
champ£tre. But I can get you there, in the open
moorland, too, under everybody's noses! Shall I?"
he said, with an eager ferocity that startled me.

" You are not to injure him, no matter what he does
or says," I said, sharply. "I want to watch him, not
to frighten him away. I want to see what he and
Buckhurst are doing. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Then strike palms!"

We struck vigorously.

"Now I am ready to start," I said, pleasantly.

"And now I am ready to tell you something," he
said, with the fierce light burning behind his blue
eyes. "If you were already in the police I would not
help you — no, not even to trap this filou who has mocked
me! If you again enter the police I will desert you!"

He licked his dry lips.

"Do you know what a blood-feud is?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then understand that a man in a high place has
wronged me — and that he is of the police— the Imperial
Military police!"

"Who?"

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THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

" You will know when I pass my fagot-knife into his
throat," he snarled — "not before."

The Lizard picked up his fishing-rod, slung a canvas
bag over his stained velveteen jacket, gathered together
a few coils of hair-wire, a pot of twig-lime, and other
odds and ends, which he tucked into his broad-flapped
coat - pocket. "Allons," he said, briefly, and we
started.

The canvas bag on his back bulged, perhaps with
provisions, although the steel point of a murderous
salmon-gaff protruded from the mouth of the sack and
curved over his shoulder.

The village square in Paradise was nearly deserted.
The children had raced away to follow the newly arrived
gendarmes as closely as they dared, and the women
were in-doors hanging about their men, whom the gov
ernment summoned to Lorient.

There were, however, a few people in the square, and
these the Lizard was very careful to greet. Thus we
passed the mayor, waddling across the bridge, puffing
with official importance over the arrival of the gen
darmes. He bowed to me; the Lizard saluted him
with, " Times are hard on the fat!" to which the mayor
replied morosely, and bade him go to the devil.

"Au revoir, done," retorted the Lizard, unabashed.
The mayor bawled after him a threat of arrest unless
he reported next day in the square.

At that the poacher halted. "Don't you wish you
might get me!" he said, tauntingly, probably presum
ing on my conditional promise.

" Do you refuse to report?" demanded the mayor, also
halting.

" Et ta soeur!" replied the poacher; "is she reporting
at the caserne?"

The mayor replied angrily, and a typical Breton
quarrel began, which ended in the mayor biting his

239

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

thumb-nail at the Lizard and wishing him " St. Hubert's
luck" — an insult tantamount to a curse.

Now St. Hubert was a mighty hunter, and his luck
was proverbially marvellous. But as everything goes
by contrary in Brittany, to wish a Breton hunter good
luck was the very worst thing you could do him. Bad
luck was certain to follow — if not that very day, cer
tainly, inexorably, some day.

With wrath in his eyes the Lizard exhausted his
profanity, stretching out his arm after the retreating
mayor, who waddled away, gesticulating, without turn
ing his head.

"Come back! Toadl Sourd! V-Snake! Bat of
the gorse!" shouted the Lizard. "Do you think I'm
afraid of your spells, fat owl of Faouet? Evil-eyed eel!
The luck of Ker-Ys to you and yours ! Ho fois ! Do
you think I am frightened — I, Robert the Lizard?
Your wife is a camel and your daughter a cowl" The
mayor was unmarried, but it didn't matter. And,
moreover, as that official was now out of ear-shot, the
Lizard turned anxiously to me.

" Don't tell me you are superstitious enough to care
what the mayor said," I laughed.

" Dame, m'sieu, we shall have no luck to-day. To
morrow it doesn't matter — but if we go to-day, bad luck
must come to us."

"To-day? Nonsense!"

"If not, then another day."

"Rubbish! Come on."

" Do you think we could take precautions?" he asked,
furtively.

"Take all you like," I said; "rack your brains for
an antidote to neutralize the bad luck, only come on,
you great gaby!"

I knew many of the Finistere legends; out of the
corner of my eye I watched this stalwart rascal, cowed

240

THE PATH OP THE LIZARD

by gross superstition, peeping about for some favorable
sign to counteract the luck of St. Hubert.

First he looked up at the crows, and counted them
as they passed overhead cawing ominously — one — two
— three — four — five ! Five is danger ! But wait, more
were coming : one — two — three — four — five — six —
seven — ! A loss! Well, that was not as bad as some
things. But harkl More crows coming: one — two —
three! Death!

" Jesu!" he faltered, ducking his head instinctively.
'Til look elsewhere for signs."

The signs were all wrong that morning ; first we met
an ancient crone with a great pack of fagots on her
bent back, and I was sure he could have strangled her
cheerfully, because there are few worse omens for a
hunter of game or of men. Then he examined the
first mushroom he found, but under the pink-and-pearl
cap we saw no insects crawling. The veil, too, was
rent, showing the poisonous, fluted gills ; and the toad
stool blackened when he cut it with the blade of his
fagot-knife.

He tried once more, however, and searched through
the gorse until he found a heavy lizard, green as an
emerald. He teased it till it snapped at the silver franc
in my hand ; its teeth should have vanished, but when
he held out his finger the creature bit into it till the
blood spurted.

Still I refused to turn back. What should he do?
Then into his mind crept a Pouldu superstition. It
was a charm against evil, including lightning, black-
rot, rheumatism, and " douleurs " of other varieties.

The charm was simple. We needed only to build
a little fire of gorse, and walk through the smoke once
or twice. So we built the fire and walked through the
smoke, the Lizard coughing and cursing until I feared
he might overdo it by smothering us both. Then
16 241

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

stamping out the last spark — for he was a woods
man always — we tramped on in better humor with
destiny.

" You think that turned the curse backward, m'sieu?"
he asked.

"There is not the faintest doubt of that," I said.

Far away towards Sainte-Ysole we saw the blue woods
which were our goal. However, we had no intention
of going there as the bee flies, partly because Tric-Trac
might see us, partly because the Lizard wished any
prowling passer-by to observe that he was occupied
with his illegitimate profession. For my part, I very
much preferred a brush with a garde-champe'tre or a
summons to explain why no shots were found in the
Lizard's pheasants, rather than have anybody ask
us why we were walking so fast towards Sainte-Ysole
woods.

Therefore we promptly selected a hedge for opera
tions, choosing a high, thick one, which separated two
fields of wheat stubble.

Kneeling under the hedge, he broke a hole in it just
large enough for a partridge to worry through. Then
he bent his twig, fastened the hair-wire into a running
noose, adjusted it, and stood up. This manoeuvre he
repeated at various hedges or in thickets where he
"lined" his trail with peeled twigs on every bush.

Once he paused to reset a hare-trap with a turnip,
picked up in a neighboring field ; once he limed a young
sapling and fixed a bit of a mirror in the branches, but
not a bird alighted, although the blackthorns were
full of fluttering wings. And all the while we had been
twisting and doubling and edging nearer and nearer
to the Sainte-Ysole woods, until we were already within
their cool shadow, and I heard the tinkle of a stream
among leafy depths.

Now we had no fear ; we were hidden from the eyes
242

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

of the dry, staring plain, and the Lizard laughed to
himself as he fastened a grasshopper to his hook and
flung it into the broad, dark water of the pool at his
feet.

Slowly he fished up stream, but, although he seemed
to be intent on his sport, there was something in the
bend of his head that suggested he might be listening
for other sounds than the complex melodies of mossy
waterfalls.

His poacher's eyes began to glisten and shimmer
in the forest dusk like the eyes of wild things that hunt
at night. As he noiselessly turned, his nostrils spread
with a tremor, as a good dog's nose quivers at the point.

Presently he beckoned me, stepped into the moss,
and crawled without a sound straight through the
holly thicket.

"Watch here/' he whispered. "Count a hundred
when I disappear, then creep on your stomach to the
edge of that bank. In the bed of the stream, close under
you, you will see and hear your friend Tric-Trac."

Before I had counted fifty I heard the Lizard cry out,
"Bonjour, Tric-Trac!" but I counted on, obeying the
Lizard's orders as I should wish mine to be obeyed.
I heard a startled exclamation in reply to the Lizard's
greeting, then a purely Parisian string of profanity,
which terminated as I counted one hundred and crept
forward to the mossy edge of the bank, under the yellow
beach leaves.

Below me stood the Lizard, intently watching a figure
crouched on hands and knees before a small, iron-bound
box.

The person addressed as Tric-Trac promptly tried
to hide the box by sitting down on it. He was a young
man, with wide ears and unhealthy spots on his face.
His hair, which was oily and thick, he wore neatly
plastered into two pointed love-locks. This not only

243

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

adorned and distinguished him, but it lent a casual
and detached air to his ears, which stood at right angles
to the plane of his face. I knew that engaging coun
tenance. It was the same old Tric-Trac.

"Zut, alors!" repeated Tric-Trac, venomously, as
the poacher smiled again ; " can't you give the company
notice when you come in?"

"Did you expect me to ring the tocsin?" asked the
Lizard.

"Flute!" snarled Tric-Trac. "Like a mud-rat, you
creep with no sound — c'est pas polite, nom d'un
nom!"

He began nervously brushing the pine-needles from
his skin-tight trousers, with dirty hands.

"What's that box?" asked the Lizard, abruptly.

"Box? Where?" A vacant expression came into
Tric-Trac 's face, and he looked all around him except
at the box upon which he was sitting.

"Box?" he repeated, with that hopeless effrontery
which never deserts criminals of his class, even under
the guillotine. "I don't see any box."

"You're sitting on it," observed the Lizard.

"T/taJbox? Oh! You mean that box? Oh!" He
peeped at it between his meagre legs, then turned a
nimble eye on the poacher.

"What's in it?" demanded the poacher, sullenly.

" Don't know," replied Tric-Trac, with brisk interest.
"I found it."

"Found it!" repeated the Lizard, scornfully.

"Certainly, my friend; how do you suppose I came
by it?"

"You stole it!"

They faced each other for a moment.

"Supposition that you are correct; what of it?" said
the young ruffian, calmly.

The Lizard was silent.

244

"Did you bring me anything to chew on?" inquired
Tric-Trac, sniffing at the poacher's sack.

"Bread, cheese, three pheasants, cider — more than
I eat in a week," said the Lizard, quietly. " It will cost
forty sous."

He opened his sack and slowly displayed the pro
visions.

I looked hard at the iron-bound box.

On one end was painted the Geneva cross. Dr. Del-
mont and Professor Tavernier had disappeared carry
ing red-cross funds. Was that their box?

"I said it costs forty sous — two silver francs," re
peated the Lizard, doggedly.

"Forty sous? That's robbery!" sniffed the young
ruffian, now using that half -whining, half - sneering
form of discourse peculiar alike to the vicious chevalier
of Paris and his confrere of the provincial centres.
Accent and slang alone distinguish between them ; the
argot, however, is practically the same.

Tric-Trac fished a few coins from his pocket, counted
carefully, and handed them, one by one, to the poacher.

The poacher coolly tossed the food on the ground,
and, as Tric-Trac rose to pick it up, seized the box.

"Drop that!" said Tric-Trac, quickly.

"What's in it?"

"Nothing! Drop it, I tell you."

"Where's the key?"

"There's no key — it's a. machine."

"What's in it?"

"Now I've been trying to find out for two weeks,"
sneered Tric-Trac, "and I don't know yet. Drop it!"*

"I'm going to open it all the same," said the Lizard,
coolly, lifting the lid.

A sudden silence followed; then the Lizard swore
vigorously. There was another box within the light,
iron -edged casket, a keyless cube of shining steel,

245

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

with a knob on the top, and a needle which revolved
around a dial on which were engraved the hours and
minutes. And emblazoned above the dial was the coat
of arms of the Countess de Vassart.

When Tric-Trac had satisfied himself concerning the
situation, he returned to devour his food.

" Flute ! Zut ! Mince ! " he observed ; " you and your
bad manners, they sicken me — tiens!"

The Lizard, flat on his stomach, lay with the massive
steel box under his chin, patiently turning the needle
from figure to figure.

" Wonderful ! wonderful ! " sneered Tric-Trac. " Con
tinue, my friend, to put out your eyes with your fingers !"

The Lizard continued to turn the needle backward
and forward around the face of the dial. Once, when
he twirled it impatiently, a tiny chime rang out from
within the box, but the steel lid did not open.

"It's the Angelus," said Tric-Trac, with a grimace.
" Let us pray, my friend, for a cold-chisel — when my
friend Buckhurst returns."

Still the Lizard lay, unmoved, turning the needle
round and round.

Tric-Trac having devoured the cheese, bread, and an
entire pheasant, made a bundle of the remaining food,
emptied the cider-jug, wiped his beardless face with his
cap, and announced that he would be pleased to " broil "
a cigarette.

"Do you want the gendarmes to scent tobacco?"
said the Lizard.

"Are the 'Flics' out already?" asked Tric-Trac, as
tonished.

" They're in Paradise, setting the whole Department
by the ears. But they can't look sideways at me; I'm
going to be exempt."

" It strikes me," observed Tric-Trac, " that you take
great precautions for your own skin."

246

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

"I do," said the Lizard.

"What about me?"

The poacher looked around at the young ruffian.
Those muscles in the human face which draw back
the upper lip are not the muscles used for laughter.
Animals employ them when they snarl. And now the
Lizard laughed that way; his upper lip shrank from
the edge of his yellow teeth, and he regarded Tric-
Trac with oblique and burning eyes.

" What about me?" repeated Tric-Trac, in an offended
tone. "Am I to live in fear of the Flics?"

The Lizard laughed again, and Tric-Trac, disgusted,
stood up, settled his cap over his wide ears, humming
a song as he loosened his trousers-belt:

" Si vous t'nez a vot' squelette
Ne fait' pas comme Bibi!
Claquer plutot dans vot' lit
Que de claquer a la Roquette 1" —

"Who are you gaping at?" he added, abruptly.
"Bon; c'est ma geule. Et apres? Drop that box!"

"Come," replied the Lizard, coldly, placing the
box on the moss, "you'd better not quarrel with
me."

"Oh, that's a threat, is it?" sneered Tric-Trac. He
walked over to the steel box, lifted it, placed it in the
iron-edged case, and sat down on the case.

"I want you to comprehend," he added, "that you
have pushed your nose into an affair that does not
concern you. The next time you come here to sell
your snared pheasants, come like a man, nom de Dieu!
and not like a cat of the Glaciere! — or I'll find a way to
stop your curiosity."

The dull-red color surged into the poacher's face and
heavy neck; for a moment he stood as though stunned.
Then he dragged out his knife.

247

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Tric-Trac sat looking at him insolently, one hand
thrust into the bosom of his greasy coat.

"I've got a toy under my cravate that says 'Papa!'
six times — pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! Papa!" he
continued, calmly ; "so there's no use in your turning
red and swelling the veins in your neck. Go to the
devil! Do you think I can't live without you? Go to
the devil with your traps and partridges and fish-hooks
— and that fagot-knife in your fist — and if you try to
throw it at me you'll make a sad mistake!"

The Lizard's half-raised hand dropped as Tric-Trac,
with a movement like lightning, turned a revolver full
on him, talking all the while in his drawling whine.

" C'est c.a ! Now you are reasonable. Get out of this
forest, my friend — or stay and join us. Eh! That
astonishes you? Why? Idiot, we want men like you.
We want men who have nothing to lose and — millions
to gain! Ah, you are amazed! Yes, millions — I say
it. I, Tric-Trac of the Glaciere, who have done my time
in Noumea, too! Yes, millions."

The young ruffian laughed and slowly passed his
tongue over his thin lips. The Lizard slowly returned
his knife to its sheath, looked all around, then de
liberately sat down on the moss cross-legged. I could
have hugged him.

"A million? Where?" he asked, vacantly.

"Parbleu! Naturally you ask where," chuckled
Tric-Trac. "Tiens! A supposition that it's in this
box!"

"The box is too small," said the Lizard, patiently.

Tric-Trac roared. "Listen to him! Listen to the
child!" he cried, delighted. "Too small to hold gold
enough for you ? Very well — but is a ship big enough ? ' '

"A big ship is."

Tric-Trac wriggled in convulsions of laughter.

"Oh, listen! He wants a big ship! Well — say a
248

THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

ship as big as that ugly, black iron-clad sticking up
out of the sea yonder, like a Usine-de-gaz!"

"I think that ship would be big enough," said the
poacher, seriously.

Tric-Trac did not laugh ; his little eyes narrowed, and
he looked steadily at the poacher.

"Do you mean what I mean?" he asked, deliberately.

"Well," said the Lizard, "what do you mean?"

" I mean that France is busy stitching on a new flag."

"Black?"

"Red— first."

"Oh-h!" mused the poacher. "When does France
hoist that new red flag?"

"When Paris, falls."

The poacher rested his chin on his doubled fist and
leaned forward across his gathered knees. "I see,"
he drawled.

" Under the commune there can be no more poverty,"
said Tric-Trac; "you comprehend that."

"Exactly."

"And no more aristocrats."

"Exactly."

"Well," said Tric-Trac, his head on one side, "how
does that programme strike you?"

" It is impossible, your programme," said the poacher,
rising to his feet impatiently.

" You think so ? Wait a few days ! Wait, my friend, ' '
cried Tric-Trac, eagerly; "and say! — come back here
next Monday! There will be a few of us here — a few
friends. And keep your mouth shut tight. Here!
Wait. Look here, friend, don't let a little pleasantry
stand between comrades. Your fagot-knife against
my little flute that sings pa-pa! — that leaves matters
balanced, eh?"

The young ruflian had followed the Lizard and caught
him by his stained velvet coat.

249

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" Voyons," he persisted, "do you think the commune
is going to let a comrade starve for lack of Badinguet's
lozenges? Here, take a few of these!" and the rascal
thrust out a dirty palm full of twenty-franc gold pieces.

"What are these for?" muttered the Lizard, sullenly.

"For your beaux yeux, imbecile!" cried Tric-Trac,
gayly. " Come back when you want more. My com
rade, Citizen Buckhurst, will be glad to see you next
Monday. Adieu, my friend. Don't chatter to the Flics I"

He picked up his box and the packet of provisions,
dropped his revolver into the side-pocket of his jacket,
cocked his greasy cap, blew a kiss to the Lizard, and
started off straight into the forest. After a dozen steps
he hesitated, turned, and looked back at the poacher
for a moment in silence. Then he made a friendly
grimace.

"You are not a fool/' he said, "so you won't follow
me. Come again Monday. It will really be worth
while, dear friend." Then, as on an impulse, he came
all the way back, caught the Lizard by the sleeve,
raised his meagre body on tiptoe, and whispered.

The Lizard turned perfectly white ; Tric-Trac trotted
away into the woods, hugging his box and smirking.

The Lizard and I walked back together. By the
time we reached Paradise bridge I understood him
better, and he understood me. And when we arrived
at the circus tent, and when Speed came up, handing
me a telegram from Chanzy refusing my services, the
Lizard turned to me like an obedient hound to take my
orders — now that I was not to re-enter the Military
Police.

I ordered him to disobey the orders from Lorient
and from the mayor of Paradise ; to take to the woods
as though to avoid the conscription; to join Buck-
hurst's franc - company of ruffians, and to keep me
fully informed.

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THE PATH OF THE LIZARD

"And, Lizard/' I said, "you may be caught and
hanged for it by the police, or stabbed by Tric-Trac."

"Bien/' he said, coolly.

"But it is a brave thing you do; a soldierly thing'/'

He was silent.

"It is for France/' I said.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"And we'll catch this Tric-Trac red-handed/' I sug
gested.

"Ah — yes!" His eyes glowed as though lighted up
from behind. " And another who is high in the police,
and a friend of this Tric-Trac!"

" Was it that man's name he whispered to you when
you turned so white?" I said, suddenly.

The Lizard turned his glowing eyes on me.

" Was the man's name — Mornac?" I asked, at a hope
less venture.

The Lizard shivered; I needed no reply, not even
his hoarse, "Are you the devil, that you know all
things?"

I looked at him wonderingly. What wrong could
Mornac have done a ragged outcast here on the Bre
ton coast? .And where was Mornac ? Had he left Paris
in time to avoid the Prussian trap? Was he here in
this country, rubbing elbows with Buckhurst?

" Did Tric-Trac tell you that Mornac was at the head
of that band?" I demanded.

"Why do you ask me?" stammered the Lizard;
" you know everything — even when it is scarcely
whispered!"

The superstitious astonishment of the man, his utter
collapse and his evident fear of me, did not suit me.
Treachery comes through that kind of fear; I meant
to rule him in another and safer manner. I meant
to be absolutely honest with him.

It was difficult to persuade him that I had only guessed
25,1

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

the name whispered ; that, naturally, I should think of
Mornac as a high officer of police, and particularly so
since I knew him to be a villain, and had also divined
his relations with Buckhurst.

I drew from the poacher that Tric-Trac had named
Mornac as head of the communistic plot in Brittany;
that Mornac was coming to Paradise very soon, and that
then something gay might be looked for.

And that night I took Speed into my confidence and
finally Kelly Eyre, our balloonist.

And we talked the matter over until long after mid
night.

XV

FOREWARNED

THE lions had now begun to give me a great deal
of trouble. Timour Melek, the old villain, sat on
his chair, snarling and striking at me, but still going
through his paces; Empress Khatoun was a perfect
devil of viciousness, and refused to jump her hoops ;
even poor little Aicha, my pet, fed by me soon after
her foster-mother, a big Newfoundland, had weaned
her, turned sullen in the pyramid scene. I roped her
and trimmed her claws ; it was high time.

Oh, they knew, and I knew, that matters had gone
wrong with me ; that I had, for a time, at least, lost the
intangible something which I once possessed — that oc
cult right to dominate.

It worried me ; it angered me. Anger in authority,
which is a weakness, is quickly discovered by beasts.

Speed's absurd superstition continued to recur to me
at inopportune moments; in my brain his voice was
ceaselessly sounding — " A man in love, a man in love,
a man in love " — until a flash of temper sent my lions
scurrying and snarling into a pack, where they huddled
and growled, staring at me with yellow, mutinous eyes.

Yet, strangely, the greater the risk, and the plainer
to me that my lions were slipping out of my control,
the more my apathy increased, until even Byram began
to warn me.

Still I never felt the slightest physical fear; on the
253

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

contrary, as my irritation increased my disdain grew.
It seemed a monstrous bit of insolence on the part of
these overgrown cats to meditate an attack on me.
Even though I began to feel that it was only a question
of time when the moment must arrive, even though
I gradually became certain that the first false move
on my part would precipitate an attack, the knowledge
left me almost indifferent.

That morning, as I left the training-cage — where,
among others, Kelly Eyre stood looking on — I suddenly
remembered Sylvia Elven and her message to Eyre,
which I had never delivered.

We strolled towards the stables together; he was a
pleasant, clean-cut, fresh-faced young fellow, a man I
had never known very well, but one whom I was in
clined to respect and trust.

"My son," said I, politely, "do you think you have
arrived at an age sufficiently mature to warrant my
delivering to you a message from a pretty girl?"

"There's no harm in attempting it, my venerable
friend," he replied, laughing.

" This is the message," I said : " On Sunday the
book-stores are closed in Paris."

"Who gave you that message, Scarlett?" he stam
mered.

I leaked at him curiously, brutally ; a red, hot blush
had covered his face from neck to hair.

"In case you asked, I was to inform you," said I,
" that a Bretonne at Point Paradise sent the message."

"A Bretonne!" he repeated, as though scared.

"A Bretonne!"

"But I don't know any!"

I shrugged my shoulders discreetly.

"Are you certain she was a Bretonne?" he asked
His nervousness surprised me.

"Does she not say so?" I replied.
254

FOREWARNED

" I know — I know— but that message — there is only
one woman who could have sent it — " He hesitated,
red as a pippin.

He was so young, so manly, so unspoiled, and so red,
that on an impulse I said : " Kelly, it was Mademoiselle
Elven who sent you the message."

His face expressed troubled astonishment.

"Is that her name?" he asked.

" Well — it's one of them, anyway/' I replied, begin
ning to feel troubled in my turn. "See here, Kelly,
it's not my business, but you won't mind if I speak
plainly, will you? The times are queer — you under
stand. Everybody is suspicious; everybody is under
suspicion in these days. And I want to say that the
young lady who sent that curious message to you is
as clever as twenty men like you and me."

He was silent.

" If it is a love affair, I'll stop now — not a question,
you understand. If it is not — well, as an older and
more battered and world- worn man, I'm going to make
a suggestion to you — with your permission."

"Make it," he said, quietly.

"Then I will. Don't talk to Mademoiselle Elven.
You, Speed, and I know something about a certain
conspiracy ; we are going to know more before we inform
the captain of that cruiser out there beyond Point
Paradise. I know Mademoiselle Elven — slightly. I
am afraid of her — and I have not yet decided why.
Don't talk to her."

"But — I don't know her," he said; "or, at least I
don't know her by that name."

After a moment I said: "Is the person in question
the companion of the Countess de Vassart?"

"If she is I do not know it," he replied.

"Was she once an actress?"

"It would astonish me to believe it!" he said.
255

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Then who do you believe sent you that message,
Kelly?"

His cheeks began to burn again, and he gave me an
uncomfortable look. A silence, and he sat down in
my dressing-room, his boyish head buried in his hands.
After a glance at him I began changing my training-
suit for riding - clothes, whistling the while softly to
myself. As I buttoned a fresh collar he looked up.

"Mr. Scarlett, you are well-born and — you are here
in the circus with the rest of us. You know what we
are — you know that two or three of us have seen better
days, . . . that something has gone wrong with us to
bring us here, . . . but we never speak of it, ... and
never ask questions. . . . But I should like to tell
you about myself; . . . you are a gentleman, you
know, . . . and I was not born to anything in par
ticular. ... I was a clerk in the consul's office in Paris
when Monsieur Tissaridier took a fancy to me, and I
entered his balloon ateliers to learn to assist him."

He hesitated. I tied my necktie very carefully before
a bit of broken mirror.

" Then the government began to make much of us,
. . . you remember? We started experiments for the
army. ... I was intensely interested, and . . . there
was not much talk about secrecy then, . . . and my
salary was large, and I was received at the Tuileries.
My head was turned ; . . . life was easy, brilliant. I
made an invention — a little electric screw which steered
a balloon . . . sometimes ..." He laughed, a mirth
less laugh, and looked at me. All the color had gone
from his face.

" There was a woman — " I turned partly towards him.

"We met first at the British Embassy, . . . then
elsewhere, . . . everywhere. . . . We skated together
at the club in the Bois at that celebrated fe'te, . . . you
know? — the Emperor was there — "

256

FOREWARNED

"I know," I said.

He looked at me dreamily, passed his hand over his
face, and went on :

" Somehow we always talked about military balloons.
And that evening . . . she was so interested in my
work ... I brought some little sketches I had made — "

"I understand," I said.

He looked at me miserably. "She was to return
the sketches to me at Caiman's — the fashionable book
store, . . . next day. ... I never thought that the
next day was to be Sunday. . . . The book -stores
of Paris are not open on Sunday — but the War Office
is."

I began to put on my coat.

"And the sketches were asked for?" I suggested —
"and you naturally told what had become of them?"

"I refused to name her."

"Of course; men of our sort can't do that."

"I am not of your sort — you know it."

"Oh yes, you are, my friend — and the same kind of
fool, too. There's only one kind of man in this world."

He looked at me listlessly.

"So they sent you to a fortress?" I asked.

" To New Caledonia, . . . four years. ... I was only
twenty, Scarlett, . . . and ruined. ... I joined Byram
in Antwerp and risked the tour through France."

After a moment's thought I said: "In your opin
ion, what nation profited by your sketches? Italy?
Spain? Prussia? Bavaria? England? . . . Perhaps
Russia?"

" Do you mean that this woman was a foreign spy?"

" Perhaps. Perhaps she was only careless, or capri
cious, ... or inconstant. . . . You never saw her
again?"

" I was under arrest on Sunday. I do not know. . . .
I like to believe that she went to the book-store on
17 257

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Monday, . . . that she made an innocent mistake, . . .
but I never knew, Scarlett, ... I never knew."

"Suppose you ask her?" I said.

He reddened furiously.

" I cannot. ... If she did me a wrong, I cannot re
proach her; if she was innocent — look at me, Scarlett!
— a ragged, ruined mountebank in a travelling circus,
. . . and she is — "

"An honest woman that a man might care for?"

"That is ... my belief."

"If she is/' I said, "go and ask her about those
drawings."

"But if she is not, ... I cannot tell you /"he flashed
out.

"Let us shake hands, Kelly," I said, . . . "and be
very good friends. Will you?"

He gave me his hand rather shyly.

"We will never speak of her again," I said, . . .
" unless you desire it. You have had a terrible lesson
in caution ; I need say no more. Only remember that
I have trusted you with a secret concerning Buck-
hurst's conspiracy."

His firm hand tightened on mine, then he walked
away, steadily, head high. And I went out to saddle
my horse for a canter across the moor to Point Paradise.

It was a gray day, with a hint of winter in the air,
and a wind that set the gorse rustling like tissue-paper.
Up aloft the sun glimmered, a white spot in a silvery
smother; pale lights lay on moorland and water; the
sea tumbled over the bar, boiling like a flood of liquid
lead from which the spindrift curled and blew into a
haze that buried the island of Groix and turned the
anchored iron-clad to a phantom.

A day for a gallop, if ever there was such a day I — a
day to wash out care from a troubled mind and cleanse
it in the whipping, reeking, wet east wind — a day for a

258

fox ! And I rose in my saddle and shouted aloud as a
red fox shot out of the gorse and galloped away across
the endless moorland, with the feathers of a mallard
still sticking to his whiskers.

Oh, what a gallop, with risk enough, too ; for I did
not know the coast moors ; and the deep clefts from the
cliffs cut far inland, so that eye and ear and bridle-
hand were tense and ready to catch danger ere it in
gulfed us in some sea-churned crevice hidden by the
bracken. And how the gray gulls squealed, high
whirling over us, and the wild ducks in the sedge rose
with clapping wings, craning their necks, only to swing
overhead in circles, whimpering, and drop, with pen
dent legs and wings aslant, back into the bog from
which we startled them.

A ride into an endless gray land, sweet with sea-
scents, rank with the perfume of 'salty green things;
a ride into a land of gushing winds, wet as spray, strong
and caressing, too, and full of mischief ; winds that set
miles of sedge rippling; sudden winds, that turned still
pools to geysers and set the yellow gorse flowers fly
ing ; winds that rushed up with a sea-roar like the
sound in shells, then, sudden, died away, to leave the
furrowed clover motionless and the tall reeds still as
death.

So, by strange ways and eccentric circles, like the
aerial paths of homing sea-birds, I came at last to
the spot I had set out for, consciously; yet it sur
prised me to find I had come there.

Before I crossed the little bridge I scented the big
orange - tinted tea-roses and the pinks. Leaves on
apricots were falling ; the fig-tree was bare of verdure,
and the wind chased the big, bronzed leaves across the
beds of herbs, piling them into heaps at the base of the
granite wall.

A boy took my horse ; a servant in full Breton costume
259

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

admitted me; the velvet humming of Sylvia Elven's
spinning-wheel filled the silence, like the whirring of a
great, soft moth imprisoned in a room :

" Woe to the Maids of Paradise,

Yvonne 1
Twice have the Saxons landed — twice I

Yvonne 1
Yet shall Paradise see them thrice !

Yvonne I Yvonne ! Marivonik I

" Fair is their hair and blue their eyes,

Yvonne 1
Body o' me I their words are lies,

Yvonne I
Maids of Paradise, oh, be wisel

Yvonne ! Yvonne ! Marivonik I"

The door swung open noiselessly ; the whir of the
wheel and the sound of the song filled the room for an
instant, then was shut out as the Countess de Vassart
closed the door and came forward to greet me.

In her pretty, soft gown, with a tint of blue ribbon at
the neck and shoulders, she seemed scarcely older than
a school-girl, so radiant, so sweet and fresh she stood
there, giving me her little hand to touch in friendship.

" It was so good of you to come," she said ; " I know
you made it a duty and gave up a glorious gallop to be
amiable to me. Did you?"

I tried to say something, but her loveliness confused
me.

Somebody brought tea — I don't know who; all I
could see clearly was her gray eyes meeting mine —
the light from the leaded window touching her glori
ous, ruddy hair.

As for the tea, I took whatever she offered ; doubtless
I drank it, but I don't remember. Nor do I remember
what she said at first, for somehow I began thinking
about my lions, and the thought obsessed me even while

260

FOREWARNED

striving to listen to her, even in the tingling maze of
other thoughts which kept me dumb under the ex
quisite spell of this intimacy with her.

The delicate odor of ripened herbs stole into the room
from the garden; far away, through the whispering
whir of the spinning-wheel, I heard the sea.

" Do you like Sylvia's song?" she asked, turning her
head to listen. "It is a very old song — a very, very
old one — centuries old. It's all about the English,
how they came to harry our coasts in those days — and
it has almost a hundred verses!" Something of the
Bretoruie came into her eyes for a moment, that shad
ow of sadness, that patient fatalism in which, too, there
is something of distrust. The next instant her eyes
cleared and she smiled.

" The Tr£courts suffered much from the English raid
ers. I am a Tre"court, you know. That song was made
about us — about a young girl, Yvonne de Tr£court, who
was carried away by the English. She was foolish ; she
had a lover among the Saxons, . . . and she set a signal
for him, and they came and sacked the town, and carried
her away, and that was what she got for her folly."

She bent her head thoughtfully; the sound of the
sea grew louder in the room ; a yellow light stole out
of the west and touched the window-panes, slowly
deepening to orange; against it the fruit trees stood,
a leafless tracery of fragile branches.

"It is the winter awaking, very far away," she
said, under her breath.

Something in the hollow monotone of the sea made
me think again of the low grumble of restless lions.
The sound was hateful. Why should it steal in here
— why haunt me even in this one spot in all the world
where a world-tired man had found a moment's peace
in a woman's eyes.

"Are you troubled?" she asked, then colored at her
261

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

own question, as though deeming the impulse to speak
unwarranted.

"No, not troubled. Happiness is often edged with
a shadow. I am content to be here."

She bent her head and looked at the heavy rose
lying in solitary splendor on the table. The polished
wood reflected it in subdued tints of saffron.

"It is a strange friendship," I said.

"Ours? . . . yes."

I said, musing: "To me it is like magic. I scarce
dare speak, scarce breathe, lest the spell break."

She was silent.

" — Lest the spell break — and this house, this room,
fade away, leaving me alone, staring at the world once
more."

" If there is a spell, you have cast it," she said, laugh
ing at my sober face. " A wizard ought to be able to
make his spells endure."

Then her face grew graver. " You must forget the
past," she said; "you must forget all that was cruel
and false and unhappy, . . . will you not?"

"Yes, madame."

" I, too," she said, " have much to forget and much
to hope for ; and you taught me how to forget and how
to hope."

"I, madame?"

" Yes, ... at La Trappe, at Morsbronn, and here.
Look at me. Have I not changed?"

"Yes," I said, fascinated.

"I know I have," she said, as though speaking to
herself. " Life means more now. Somehow my child
hood seems to have returned, with all its hope of the
world and all its confidence in the world, and its cer
tainty that all will be right. Years have fallen from
my shoulders like a released burden that was crush
ing me to my knees. I have awakened from a dream

262

FOREWARNED

that was not life at all, ... a dream in which I, alone,
staggered through darkness, bearing the world on my
shoulders — the world doubly weighted with the sorrows
of mankind, ... a dream that lasted years, but . . . you
awoke me."

She leaned forward and lifted the rose, touching her
face with it.

" It was so simple, after all — this secret of the world's
malady. You read it for me. I know now what is
written on the eternal tablets — to live one's own life
as it is given, in honor, charity, without malice; to
seek happiness where it is offered ; to share it when
possible; to uplift. But, most of all, to be happy and
accept happiness as a heavenly gift that is to be shared
with as many as possible. And this I have learned
since ... I knew you."

The light in the room had grown dimmer; I leaned
forward to see her face.

"Am I not right?" she asked.

"I think so. ... I am learning from you."

"But you taught this creed to me!" she cried.

" No, you are teaching it to me. And the first lesson
was a gift, . . . your friendship."

"Freely given, gladly given," she said, quickly.
"And yours I have in return, . . . and will keep al
ways — always — ' '

She crushed the rose against her mouth, looking at
me with inscrutable gray eyes, as I had seen her look
at me once at La Trappe, once in Morsbronn.

I picked up my gloves and riding-crop ; as I rose she
stood up in the dusk, looking straight at me.

I said something about Sylvia Elven and my com
pliments to her, something else about the happiness
I felt at coming to the chateau again, something about
her own goodness to me — Heaven knows what! — and
she gave me her hand and I held it a moment.

263

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

''Will you come again?" she asked.

I stammered a promise and made my way blindly to
the door which a servant threw open, flung myself
astride my horse, and galloped out into the waste of
moorland, seeing nothing, hearing nothing save the
low roar of the sea, like the growl of restless lions.

XVI

A RESTLESS MAN

WHEN I came into camp, late that afternoon, I
found Byram and Speed groping about among
a mass of newspapers and letters, the first mail we cir
cus people had received for nearly two months.

There were letters for all who were accustomed to
look for letters from families, relatives, or friends at
home. I never received letters — I had received none
of that kind in nearly a score of years, yet that curious
habit of expectancy had not perished in me, and I
found myself standing with the others while Byram
distributed the letters, one by one, until the last home-
stamped envelope had been given out, and all around
me the happy circus-folk were reading in homesick
contentment. I know of no lonelier man than he who
lingers empty-handed among those who pore over the
home mail.

But there were newspapers enough and to spare —
French, English, American; and I sat down by my
lion's cage and attempted to form some opinion of the
state of affairs in France. And, as far as I could read
between the lines, this is what I gathered, partly from
my own knowledge of past events, partly from the
foreign papers, particularly the English:

When, on the 3d of September, the humiliating news
arrived that the Emperor was a prisoner and his army
annihilated, the government, for the first time in its ex-

265

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

istence, acted with promptness and decision in a matter
of importance. Secret orders were sent by couriers to
the Bank of France, to the Louvre, and to the Invalides ;
and, that same night, train after train rushed out of
Paris loaded with the battle-flags from the Invalides,
the most important pictures and antique sculptures
from the Louvre, the greater part of the gold and silver
from the Bank of France, and, last but by no means
least, the crown and jewels of France.

This Speed and I already knew.

These trains were despatched to Brest, and at the
same time a telegram was directed to the admiral com
manding the French iron-clad fleet in the Baltic to send
an armored cruiser to Brest with all haste possible,
there to await further orders, but to be fully prepared
in any event to take on board certain goods designated
in cipher. This we knew in a general way, though
Speed understood that Lorient was to be the port of
departure.

The plan was a good one and apparently simple;
and there seemed to be no doubt that jewels, battle-
flags, pictures, and coin were already beyond danger
from the German armies, now plodding cautiously
southward toward the capital, which was slowly re
covering from its revolutionary convulsions and pre
paring for a siege.

The plan, then, was simple ; but, for an equally simple
reason, it miscarried in the following manner. Early
in August, while the French armies from the Rhine
to the Meuse were being punished with frightful
regularity and precision, the French Mediterranean
squadron had sailed up and down that interesting
expanse of water, apparently in patriotic imitation of
the historic

"King of France and twenty thousand men."
266

A RESTLESS MAN

For, it now appeared, the French admiral was afraid
that the Spanish navy might aid the German ships in
harassing the French transports, which at that time
were frantically engaged in ferrying a sea-sick Algerian
army across the Mediterranean to the mother country.

Of course there was no ground for the admiral's sus
picions. The German war-ships stayed in their own
harbors, the Spaniards made no offensive alliance with
Prussia, and at length the French admiral sailed tri
umphantly away with his battle-ships and cruisers.

On the yth of August the squadron of four battle
ships, two armored corvettes, and a despatch - boat
steamed out of Brest, picking up on its way north
ward three more iron-clad frigates, and several cruisers
and despatch-boats; and on the nth of August, 1870,
the squadron anchored off Heligoland, from whence
Admiral Fourichon proclaimed the blockade of the
German coast.

It must have been an imposing sight! There lay
the great iron-clads, the Magnanime, the Heroine, the
Provence, the Valeureuse, the Revanche, the Invincible,
the Couronnel There lay the cruisers, the Atalante,
the Renaud, the Cosmao, the Decres ! There, too, lay
the single-screw despatch - boats Reine-Hortense, Re-
nard, and Dayot. And upon their armored decks,
three by three, stalked the French admirals. Yet,
without cynicism, it may be said that the admirals of
France fought better, in 1870, on dry land than they did
on the ocean.

However, the German ships stayed peacefully inside
their fortified ports, and the three French admirals
pranced peacefully up and down outside, until the God
of battles intervened and trouble naturally ensued.

On the 6th of September all the seas of Europe were
set clashing under a cyclone that rose to a howling
hurricane. The British iron-clad Captain foundered

267

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

off Finistere; the French fleet in the Baltic was scat
tered to the four winds.

In the midst of the tempest a French despatch-boat,
the Hirondelle, staggered into sight, signalling the
flag-ship. Then the French admiral for the first time
learned the heart-breaking news of Sedan, and as the
tempest - tortured battle -ship drove seaward the sig
nals went up: "Make for Brest!" The blockade of the
German coast was at an end.

On the 4th of September the treasure - laden trains
had left Paris for Brest. On the 5th the Hirondelle
steamed out towards the fleet with the news from Sedan
and the orders for the detachment of a cruiser to receive
the crown jewels. On the 6th the news and the orders
were signalled to the flag-ship; but the God of battles
unchained a tempest which countermanded the order
and hurled the iron-clads into outer darkness.

Some of the ships crept into English ports, burning
their last lumps of coal, some drifted into Dunkerque;
but the flag-ship disappeared for nine long days, at
last to reappear off Cherbourg, a stricken thing with a
stricken crew and an admiral broken-hearted.

So, for days and days, the treasure-laden trains must
have stood helpless in the station at Brest, awaiting the
cruiser that did not come.

On the ijth of September the French Channel
squadron, of seven heavy iron-clads, unexpectedly
steamed into Lorient harbor and dropped anchor amid
thundering salutes from the forts; and the next day
one of the treasure-trains came flying into Lorient,
to the unspeakable relief of the authorities in the be
leaguered capital.

Speed and I already knew the secret orders sent.
The treasures, including the crown diamonds, were to
be stored in the citadel, and an armored cruiser was
to lie off the arsenal with banked fires, ready to receive

268

A RESTLESS MAN

the treasures at the first signal and steam to the French
fortified port of Saigon in Cochin China, by a course
already determined.

Why on earth those orders had been changed so that
the cruiser was to lie off Groix I could not imagine,
unless some plot had been discovered in Lorient which
had made it advisable to shift the location of the treas
ures for the third time.

Pondering there at the tent door, amid my heap of
musty newspapers, I looked out into the late, gray
afternoon and saw the maids of Paradise passing and
repassing across the bridge with a clicking of wooden
shoes and white head-dresses glimmering in the dusk
of the trees.

The town had filled within a day or two ; the Paradise
coiffe was not the only coiffe to be seen in the square;
there was the delicate-winged head-dress of Faouet, the
beautiful coiffes of Rosporden, Sainte-Anne d'Auray,
and Pont Aven ; there, too, flashed the scarlet skirts of
Bannalec and the gorgeous embroidered bodices of the
interior; there were the men of Quimperle" in velvet,
the men of Penmarch, the men of Faouet with their
dark, Spanish-like faces and their sombreros, and their
short yellow jackets and leggings. All in holiday cos
tume, too, for the maids were stiff in silver and lace,
and the men wore carved sabots and embroidered gilets.

"Governor," I called out to Byram, "the town is
filling fast. It's like a Pardon in Morbihan; we'll
pack the old tent to the nigger 's-hea ven !"

"It's a fact," he said, pushing his glasses up over
his forehead and fanning his face with his silk hat.
"We're going to open to a lot of money, Mr. Scarlett,
and . . . I ain't goin' to forgit them that stood by me,
neither."

He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, and, stoop
ing, peered into my face.

269

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Air you sick, m' friend?" he asked.

"I, governor? Why, no."

"Ain't been bit by that there paltry camuel nor
nothin', hev ye?"

"No; do I look ill?"

" Peaked — kind o' peaked. White, with dark succles
under your eyes. Air you nervous?"

"About the lions? Oh no. Don't worry about me,
governor."

He sighed, adjusted his spectacles, and blew his
nose.

" Mr. Speed — he's worriting, too ; he says that Em
press Khatoun means to hev ye one o' these days."

"You tell Mr. Speed to worry over his own affairs
— that child, Jacqueline, for instance. I suppose she
made her jump without trouble to-day? I was too
nervous to stay and watch her."

"M' friend," said Byram, in solemn ecstasy, "I
take off my hat to that there kid!" And he did so
with a nourish. "You orter seen her; she hung on
that flying trap, jest as easy an' sassy! We was all
half crazy. Speed he grew blue around the gills :
Miss Crystal, a-swingin' there in the riggin' by her
knees, kept a swallerin' an' lickin' her lips, she was
that scared.

"'Ready?' she calls out in a sort o' quaver.

"'Ready!' sez little Jacqueline, cool as ice, swingin'
by her knees. 'Go!' sez Miss Crystal, an' the kid let
go, an' Miss Crystal grabbed her by the ankles.
'Ready?' calls up Speed, beside the tank.

"'Ready!' sez the kid, smilin'. 'Drop!' cries Speed.
An' Jacqueline shot down like a blazing star — whir!
swish! splash! All over! An' that there nervy kid
a floatin' an' a sportin' like a minnie-fish at t'other
end o' the tank! Oh, gosh, but it was grand! It was
jest—"

270

A RESTLESS MAN

Speech failed; he walked away, waving his arms,
his rusty silk hat on the back of his head.

A few moments later drums began to roll from the
square. Speed, passing, called out to me that the con
scripts were leaving for Lorient; so I walked down to
the bridge, where the crowd had gathered and where
a tall gendarme stood, his blue - and - white uniform
distinct in the early evening light. The mayor was
there, too, dressed in his best, waddling excitedly about,
and buttonholing at intervals a young lieutenant of
infantry, who appeared to be extremely bored.

There were the conscripts of the Garde Mobile, an
anxious peasant rabble, awkward, resigned, docile
as cattle. Here stood a farmer, reeking of his barn
yard ; here two woodsmen from the forest, belted and
lean; but the majority were men of the sea, heavy-
limbed, sun-scorched fellows, with little, keen eyes al
ways half closed, and big, helpless fists hanging. Some
carried their packets slung from hip to shoulder, some
tied their parcels to the muzzles of their obsolete mus
kets. A number wore the boatman's smock, others
the farmer's blouse of linen, but the greater number
were clad in the blue-wool jersey and cloth be"ret of the
sailor.

Husbands, sons, lovers, looked silently at the women.
The men uttered no protest, no reproach ; the women
wept very quietly. In their hearts that strange mys
ticism of the race predominated — the hopeless accept
ance of a destiny which has, for centuries, left its im
print in the sad eyes of the Breton. Generations of
martyrdom leave a cowed and spiritually fatigued race
which breeds stoics.

Like great white blossoms, the spotless head-dresses
of the maids of Paradise swayed and bowed above
the crowd.

A little old woman stood beside a sailor, saying
271

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

to anybody who would listen to her: "My son —
they are taking my son. Why should they take my
son?"

Another said: "They are taking mine, too, but
he cannot fight on land. He knows the sea; he is
not afraid at sea. Can nobody help us? He cannot
fight onjand; he does not know how!"

A woman carrying a sleeping baby stood beside
the drummers at the fountain. Five children dragged
at her skirts and peered up at the mayor, who shrugged
his shoulders and shook his fat head.

"What can I do? He must march with the others,
your man," said the mayor, again and again. But
the woman with the baby never ceased her eternal
question: "What can we live on if you take him?
I do not mean to complain too much, but we have noth
ing. What can we live on, m'sieu the mayor?"

But now the drummers had stepped out into the
centre of the square and were drawing their drum
sticks from the brass sockets in their baldricks.

"Good-bye! Good-bye!" sobbed the maids of Para
dise, giving both hands to their lovers. "We will
pray for you!"

"Pray for us," said the men, holding their sweet
hearts' hands.

"Attention!" cried the officer, a slim, hectic lieu
tenant from Lorient.

The mayor handed him the rolls, and the lieutenant,
facing the shuffling single rank, began to call off:

"Roux of Bannalec?"

"Here, monsieur — "

"Don't say, 'Here, monsieur!' Say, 'Present!'
Now, Roux?"

"Present, monsieur — "

"Idiot! Kedrec?"

"Present!"

272

A RESTLESS MAN

"That's right! Penmarch?"

"Present!"

"Rhuis of Sainte-Yssel?"

"Present!"

"Herv£ of Paradise Beacon?"

" Present!"

"Laenec?"

"Present!"

"Duhamel?"

"Present!"

The officer moistened his lips, turned the page, and
continued :

"Carnac of Alincourt?"

There was a silence, then a voice cried, "Crippled!"

"Mark him off, lieutenant," said the mayor, pom
pously; "he's our little hunchback."

" Shall I mark you in his place?" asked the lieutenant,
with a smile that turned the mayor's blood to water.
"No? You would make a fine figure for a forlorn
hope."

A man burst out laughing, but he was half crazed
with grief, and his acrid mirth found no response.
Then the roll-call was resumed:

"Gestel?"

"Present!"

"Garenne!"

There was another silence.

"Robert Garenne!" repeated the officer, sharply.
" Monsieur the mayor has informed me that you are
liable for military duty. If you are present, answer
to your name or take the consequences!"

The poacher, who had been lounging on the bridge,
slouched slowly forward and touched his cap.

"I am organizing a franc corps," he said, with a
deadly sidelong glance at the mayor, who now stood

beside the lieutenant.

is 273

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"You can explain that at Lorient," replied the lieu
tenant. "Fall in there!"

"But I—"

"Fall in!" repeated the lieutenant.

The poacher's visage became inflamed. He hesitat
ed, looking around for an axenue of escape. Then
he caught my disgusted eye.

" For the last time," said the lieutenant, coolly draw
ing his revolver, "I order you to fall in!"

The poacher backed into the straggling rank, glaring.

"Now," said the lieutenant, "you may go to your
house and get your packet. If we have left when you
return, follow and report at the arsenal in Lorient.
Fall out! March!"

The poacher backed out to the rear of the rank,
turned on his heel, and strode away towards the coast,
clinched fists swinging by his side.

There were not many names on the roll, and the call
was quickly finished. And now the infantry drum
mers raised their sticks high in the air, there was a
sharp click, a crash, and the square echoed.

"March!" cried the officer; and, drummers ahead,
the long single rank shuffled into fours, and the column
started, enveloped in a throng of women and children.

"Good-bye!" sobbed the women. "We will pray!"

"Good-bye! Pray!"

The crowd pressed on into the dusk. Far up the
darkening road the white coiffes of the women glim
mered; the drum-roll softened to a distant humming.

The children, who did not understand, had gathered
around a hunchback, the exempt cripple of the roll-
call.

"Ho! Fois!" I heard him say to the crowd of won
dering little ones, " if I were not exempt I'd teach these
Prussians to dance the farandole to my biniou!
Oui, dame! And perhaps I'll do it yet, spite of the

274

A RESTLESS MAN

crooked back I was not born with — as everybody knows!
Oui, dame! Everybody knows I was born as straight
as the next man!"

The children gaped, listening to the distant drum
ming, now almost inaudible.

The cripple rose, lighted a lantern, and walked slowly
out toward the cliffs, carrying himself with that un
canny dignity peculiar to hunchbacks. And as he
walked he sang, in his thin, sharp voice, the air of
"The Three Captains":

" J'ai eu dans son coeur la plac' la plus belle,

La plac' la plus belle.
J'ai passe trois ans, trois ans avec elle.

Trois ans avec elle.
J'ai eu trois enfants qui sont capitaines,

Qui sont capitaines.
L'un est a Bordeaux, 1'autre a la Rochelle,

L'autre a la Rochelle.
Le troisieme ici, caressent les belles,

Caressent les belles.'

Far out across the shadowy cliffs I heard his lingering,
strident chant, and caught the spark of his lantern ;
then silence and darkness fell over the deserted square ;
the awed children, fingers interlocked, crept home
ward through the dusk; there was no sound save the
rippling wash of the river along the quay of stone.

Tired, a trifle sad, thinking perhaps of those home
letters which had come to all save me, I leaned against
the river wall, staring at the darkness; and over me
came creeping that apathy which I had already learned
to recognize and even welcome as a mental anaesthetic
which set that dark sentinel, care, a-drowsing.

What did I care, after all? Life had stopped for me
years before; there was left only a shell in which that
unseen little trickster, the heart, kept tap-tapping
away against a tired body. Was that what we call
life? The sorry parody!

275

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

A shape slunk near me through the dusk, furtive,
uncertain. " Lizard," I said, indifferently. He came
up, my gun on his ragged shoulder.

"You go with your class?" I asked.

"No, I go to the forest/' he said, hoarsely. "You
shall hear from me."

I nodded.

"Are you content?" he demanded, lingering.

The creature wanted sympathy, though he did not
know it. I gave him my hand and told him he was a
brave man; and he went away, noiselessly, leaving
me musing by the river wall.

After a long while — or it may only have been a few
minutes — the square began to fill again with the first
groups of women, children, and old men who had
escorted the departing conscripts a little way on their
march to Lorient. Back they came, the maids of
Paradise silent, tearful, pitifully acquiescent; the
women of Bannalec, Faouet, Rosporden, Quimperle
chattering excitedly about the scene they had wit
nessed. The square began to fill; lanterns were
lighted around the fountain; the two big lamps with
their brass reflectors in front of the mayor's house
illuminated the pavement and the thin tree-foliage
with a yellow radiance.

The chatter grew louder as new groups in all sorts
of gay head-dresses arrived; laughter began to be
heard; presently the squealing of the biniou pipes
broke out from the bowling-green, where, high on a
bench supported by a plank laid across two cider bar
rels, the hunchback sat, skirling the farandole. Ah,
what a world entire was this lost little hamlet of Para
dise, where merrymakers trod on the mourners' heels,
where the scream of the biniou drowned the floating
note of the passing bell, where Misery drew the cur
tains of her bed and lay sleepless, listening to Gayety

276

A RESTLESS MAN

dancing breathless to the patter of a coquette's wooden
shoes!

Long tables were improvised in the square, piled
up with bread, sardines, puddings, hams, and cakes.
Casks of cider, propped on skids, dotted the outskirts
of the bowling-green, where the mayor, enthroned in
his own arm-chair, majestically gave his orders in a
voice thickened by pork, onions, and gravy.

Truly enough, half of Finistere and Morbihan was
gathering at Paradise for a f£te. The slow Breton
imagination had been fired by our circus bills and
posters; ancient Armorica was stirring in her slum
ber, roused to consciousness by the Yankee bill
poster.

At the inn all rooms were taken; every house had
become an inn; barns, stables, granaries had their
guests ; fishermen's huts on coast and cliff were bright
with coiffes and embroidered jerseys.

In their misfortune, the lonely women of Paradise
recognized in this influx a godsend — a few francs to
gain with which to face those coming wintry months
while their men were absent. And they opened their
tiny houses to those who asked a lodging.

The crowds which had earlier in the evening gath
ered to gape at our big tent were now noisiest in the
square, where the endless drone of the pipes intoned
the farandole.

A few of our circus folk had come down to enjoy the
picturesque spectacle. Speed, standing with Jacque
line beside me, began to laugh and beat time to the wild
music. A pretty maid of Bannalec, white coiffe and
scarlet skirts a-flutter, called out with the broad free
dom of the chastest of nations : " There is the lover I
could pray for — if he can dance the farandole 1"

" I'll show you whether I can dance the farandole,
ma belle ! " cried Speed, and caught her hand, but she

277

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

snatched her brown fingers away and danced off, laugh
ing: "He who loves must follow, follow, follow the
farandole!"

Speed started to follow, but Jacqueline laid a timid
hand on his arm.

"I dance, M'sieu Speed," she said, her face flush
ing under her elf-locks.

"You blessed child/' he cried, "you shall dance till
you drop to your knees on the bowling-green! " And,
hand clasping hand, they swung out into the faran
dole. For an instant only I caught a glimpse of Jacque
line's blissful face, and her eyes like blue stars burning ;
then they darkened into silhouettes against the yellow
glare of the lanterns and vanished.

By ram rambled up for a moment, to comment on
the quaint scene from a showman's point of view. " It
would fill the tent in old Noo York, but it's n. g. in this
here country, where everybody's either a coryphee or a
clown or a pantaloon ! Camuels ain't no rara avises
in the Sairy, an' no niggers go to burnt-cork shows.
Phylosophy is the thing, Mr. Scarlett! Ruminate!
Ruminate! "

I promised to do so, and the old man rambled away,
coat and vest on his arm, silk hat cocked over his left
eye, the lamplight shining on the buckles of his sus
penders. Dear old governor! — dear, vulgar incarna
tion of those fast vanishing pioneers who invented civil
ization, finding none; who, self-taught, unashamed
taught their children the only truths they knew, that
the nation was worthy of all good, all devotion, and all
knowledge that her sons could bring her to her glory
that she might one day fulfil her destiny as greatest
among the great on earth.

The whining Breton bagpipe droned in my ears ; the
dancers flew past; laughter and cries arose from the
tables in the square where the curate of St. Julien stood,

278

A RESTLESS MAN

forefinger wagging, soundly rating an intoxicated but
apologetic Breton in the costume of Faouet.

I was tired — tired of it all; weary of costumes and
strange customs, weary of strange tongues, of tinsel
and mummers, and tarnished finery; sick of the saw
dust and the rank stench of beasts — and the vagabond
life — and the hopeless end of it all — the shabby end of
a useless life — a death at last amid strangers! Sol
diers in red breeches, peasants in embroidered jackets,
strolling mountebanks all tinselled and rouged — they
were all one to me. ... I wanted my own land. ... I
wanted my own people. ... I wanted to go home . . .
home! — and die, when my time came, under the skies
I knew as a child, . . . under that familiar moon which
once silvered my nursery windows. . . .

I turned away across the bridge out into the dark
road. Long before I came to the smoky, silent camp I
heard the monotonous roaring of my lions, pacing
their shadowy dens.

xvn

THE CIRCUS

A LITTLE after sunrise on the day set for our first
J~\ performance, Speed sauntered into my dressing-
room in excellent humor, saying that not only had the
village of Paradise already filled up with the peasantry
of Finistere and Morbihan, but every outlying hamlet
from St. Julien to Pont Aven was overflowing; that
many had even camped last night along the roadside ;
in short, that the country was unmistakably aroused to
the importance of the Anti-Prussian Republican circus
and the Flying Mermaid of Ker-Ys.

I listened to him almost indifferently, saying that I
was very glad for the governor's sake, and continued
to wash a deep scratch on my left arm, using saltwater
to allay the irritation left by Ai'cha's closely pared claws
— the vixen.

But the scratch had not poisoned me; I was in fine
physical condition ; rehearsals had kept us all in trim ;
our animals, too, were in good shape; and the machin
ery started without a creak when, an hour later, Byram
himself opened the box-office at the tent-door and began
to sell tickets to an immense crowd for the first perform
ance, which was set for two o'clock that afternoon.

I had had an unpleasant hour's work with the
lions, during which Marghouz, a beast hitherto lazy
and docile, had attempted to creep behind me. Again
I had betrayed irritation; again the lions saw it, un-

280

THE CIRCUS

derstood it, and remembered. Ai'cha tore my sleeve ;
when I dragged Timour Melek's huge jaws apart he
endured the operation patiently, but as soon as I
gave the signal to retire he sprang snarling to the floor,
mane on end, and held his ground, just long enough to
defy me. Poor devils ! Who but I knew that they were
right and I was' wrong ! Who but I understood what
lack of freedom meant to the strong — meant to caged
creatures, unrighteously deprived of liberty! Though
born in captivity, wild things change nothing ; they
sleep by day, walk by night, follow as well as they can
the instincts which a caged life cannot crush in them,
nor a miserable, artificial existence obliterate.

They are right to resist.

I mentioned something of this to Speed as I was put
ting on my coat to go out, but he only scowled at me,
saying: "Your usefulness as a lion -tamer is ended,
my friend ; you are a fool to enter that cage again, and
I'm going to tell Byram."

"Don't spoil the governor's pleasure now," I said,
irritably ; " the old man is out there selling tickets with
both hands, while little Griggs counts receipts in a
stage whisper. Let him alone, Speed; I'm going to
give it up soon, anyway — not now — not while the gov
ernor has a chance to make a little money ; but soon —
very soon. You are right; I can't control anything
now — not even myself. I must give up my lions, after
all."

"When?" said Speed.

"Soon — I don't know. I'm tired — really tired. I
want to go home."

"Home! Have you one?" he asked, with a faint
sneer of surprise.

" Yes ; a rather extensive lodging, bounded east and
west by two oceans, north by the lakes, south by the
gulf. Landlord's a relation — my Uncle Sam."

281

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Are you really going home, Scarlett?" he asked,
curiously.

"I have nothing to keep me here, have I?"

"Not unless you choose to settle down and . . .
marry."

I looked at him ; presently my face began to redden ;
and, " What do you mean?" I asked, angrily.

He replied, in a very mild voice, that he did not mean
anything that might irritate me.

I said, "Speed, don't mind my temper; I can't seem
to help it any more ; something has changed me, some
thing has gone wrong."

"Perhaps something has gone right," he mused,
looking up at the flying trapeze, where Jacqueline
swung dangling above the tank, watching us with
sea-blue eyes.

After a moment's thought I said : " Speed, what the
devil do you mean by that remark?"

" Now you're angry again," he said, wearily.

"No, I'm not. Tell me what you mean."

"Oh, what do you imagine I mean?" he retorted.
" Do you think I'm blind ? Do you suppose I've watched
you all these years and don't know you? Am I an
ass, Scarlett? Be fair; am I?"

"No; not an ass," I said.

"Then let me alone — unless you want plain speak
ing instead of a bray."

"I do want it."

"Which?"

"You know; go on."

"Am I to tell you the truth?"

"As you interpret it — yes."

" Very well, my friend ; then, at your respectful re
quest, I beg to inform you that you are in love with
Madame de Vassart — and have been for months."

I did not pretend surprise ; I knew he was going to
282

THE CIRCUS

say it. Yet it enraged me that he should think it and
say it.

"You are wrong/' I said, steadily.

"No, Scarlett; I am right."

" You are wrong," I repeated.

"Don't say that again," he retorted. "If you do
not know it, you ought to. Don't be unfair; don't be
cowardly. Face it, man! By Heaven, you've got to
face it some time — here, yonder, abroad, on the ocean,
at home — no matter where, you've got to face it some
day and tell yourself the truth ! "

His words hurt me for a moment ; then, as I listened,
that strange apathy once more began to creep over me.
Was it really the truth he had told me? Was it? Well
— and then? What meaning had it to me? ... Of
what help was it? . . .of what portent? ... of what
use? . . . What door did it unlock? Surely not the
door I had closed upon myself so many years ago !

Something of my thoughts he may have divined as I
stood brooding in the sunny tent, staring listlessly at
my own shadow on the floor, for he laid his hand on
my shoulder and said: "Surely, Scarlett, if happiness
can be reborn in Paradise, it can be reborn here. I
know you; I have known you for many years. And
in all that time you have never fallen below my ideal!"

"What are you saying, Speed?" I asked, rousing
from my lethargy to shake his hand from my shoulder.

"The truth. In all these years of intimacy, famil
iarity has never bred contempt in me; I am not your
equal in anything; it does not hurt me to say so. I
have watched you as a younger brother watches, lov
ingly, jealous yet proud of you, alert for a failing
or a weakness which I never found — or, if I thought
I found a flaw in you, knowing that it was but part
of a character too strong, too generous for me to
criticise."

283

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Speed," I said, astonished, "are you talking about
me — about me — a mountebank — and a failure at that?
You know I'm a failure — a nobody — " I hesitated,
touched by his kindness. "Your loyalty to me is all
I have. I wish it were true that I am such a man as you
believe me to be."

"It is true," he said, almost sullenly. "If it were
not, no man would say it of you — though a woman
might. Listen to me, Scarlett. I tell you that a man
shipwrecked on the world's outer rocks — if he does not
perish — makes the better pilot afterwards."

"But . . . I perished, Speed."

" It is not true," he said, violently ; " but you will if
you don't steer a truer course than you have. Scarlett,
answer me!"

"Answer you? What?"

"Are you in love?"

"Yes," I said.

He waited, looked up at me, then dropped his hands
in his pockets and turned away toward the interior of
the tent where Jacqueline, having descended from the
rigging, stood, drawing her slim fingers across the
surface of the water in the tank.

I walked out through the tent door, threading my
way among the curious crowds gathered not only at
the box-office, but even around the great tent as far as
I could see. Byram hailed me with jovial abandon,
perspiring in his shirt-sleeves, silk hat on the back of
his head; little Grigg made one of his most admired
grimaces and shook the heavy money-box at me ; Horan
waved his hat above his head and pointed at the
throng with a huge thumb. I smiled at them all and
walked on.

Cloud and sunshine alternated on that capricious
November morning ; the sea-wind was warm ; the tinct
ure of winter had gone. On that day, however, I saw

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THE CIRCUS

wavering strings of wild ducks flying south ; and the
little hedge-birds of different kinds were already flock
ing amiably together in twittering bands that filled
the leafless blackthorns on the cliffs; — true prophets,
all, of that distant cold, gathering somewhere in the
violet north.

I walked fast across the moors, as though I had a
destination. And I had; yet when I understood it I
sheered off, only to turn again and stare fascinated
in the direction of the object that frightened me.

There it rose against the seaward cliffs, the little
tower of Trecourt farm, sea-smitten and crusted, wind-
worn, stained, gray as the lichened rocks scattered
across the moorland. Over it the white gulls pitched
and tossed in a windy sky ; beyond crawled the ancient
and wrinkled sea.

" It is a strange thing/' I said aloud, "to find love at
the world's edge/' I looked blindly across the gray
waste. " But I have found it too late."

The wind blew furiously ; I heard the gulls squealing
in the sky, the far thunder of the surf.

Then, looking seaward again, for the first time I no
ticed that the black cruiser was gone, that nothing
now lay between the cliffs and the hazy headland of
Groix save a sheet of lonely water spreading league on
league to meet a flat, gray sky.

Why had the cruiser sailed? As I stood there, brood
ing, to my numbed ears the moor-winds bore a sound
coming from a great distance — the sound of cannon —
little, soft reports, all but inaudible in the wind and the
humming undertone of the breakers. Yet I knew the
sound, and turned my unquiet eyes to the sea, where
nothing moved save the far crests of waves.

For a while I stood listening, searching the sea, until
a voice hailed me, and I turned to find Kelly Eyre al
most at my elbow.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" There is a man in the village haranguing the peo
ple," he said, abruptly. "We thought you ought to
know."

" A man haranguing the people," I repeated. " What
of it?"

"Speed thinks the man is Buckhurst."

"What!" I cried.

"There's something else, too," he said, soberly, and
drew a telegram from his pocket.

I seized it, and studied the fluttering sheet :

" The governor of Lorient, on complaint of the mayor of Para
dise, forbids the American exhibition, and orders the individual
Byram to travel immediately to Lorient with his so-called circus,
where a British steamship will transport the personnel, baggage,
and animals to British territory. The mayor of Paradise will see
that this order of expulsion is promptly executed.

" (Signed) BRETEUIL.

"Chief of Police."

" Where did you get that telegram?" I asked.

"It's a copy; the mayor came with it. Byram does
not know about it."

"Don't let him know it!" I said, quickly; "this thing
will kill him, I believe. Where is that fool of a mayor?
Come on, Kelly! Stay close beside me." And I set
off at a swinging pace, down the hollow, out across
the left bank of the little river, straight to the bridge,
which we reached almost on a run.

"Look there!" cried my companion, as we came in
sight of the square.

The square was packed with Breton peasants; near
the fountain two cider barrels had been placed, a plank
thrown across them, and on this plank stood a man
holding a red flag.

The man was John Buckhurst.

When I came nearer I could see that he wore a red
scarf across his breast ; a little nearer and I could hear

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THE CIRCUS

his passionless voice sounding; nearer still, I could
distinguish every clear-cut word :

" Men of the sea, men of that ancient Armorica which,
for a thousand years, has suffered serfdom, I come to
you bearing no sword. You need none; you are free
under this red flag I raise above you."

He lifted the banner, shaking out the red folds.

" Yet if I come to you bearing no sword, I come with
something better, something more powerful, something
so resistless that, using it as your battle-cry, the world
is yours!

"I come bearing the watchword of world-brother
hood — Peace, Love, Equality! I bear it from your
battle-driven brothers, scourged to the battlements of
Paris by the demons of a wicked government! I bear
it from the devastated towns of the provinces, from
your homeless brothers of Alsace and Lorraine.

"Peace, Love, Equality! All this is yours for the
asking. The commune will be proclaimed through
out France; Paris is aroused, Lyons is ready, Bor
deaux watches, Marseilles waits!

" You call your village Paradise — yet you starve here.
Let this little Breton village be a paradise in truth —
a shrine for future happy pilgrims who shall say : 'Here
first were sewn the seeds of the world's liberty ! Here first
bloomed the perfect flower of universal brotherhood!"

He bent his sleek, gray head meekly, pausing as
though in profound meditation. Suddenly he raised
his head; his tone changed; a faint ring of defiance
sounded under the smooth flow of words.

He began with a blasphemous comparison, alluding
to the money-changers in the temple — a subtle appeal
to righteous violence.

" It rests with us to cleanse the broad temple of our
country and drive from it the thieves and traitors who
enslave us! How can we do it? They are strong; we

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

are weak. Ah, but are they truly strong? You say
they have armies ? Armies are composed of men . These
men are your brothers, whipped forth to die — for what?
For the pleasure of a few aristocrats. Who was it
dragged your husbands and sons away from your
arms, leaving you to starve? The governor of Lorient.
Who is he? An aristocrat, paid to scourge your hus
bands and children to battle — paid, perhaps, by Prussia
to betray them, too!"

A low murmur rose from the people. Buckhurst
swept the throng with colorless eyes.

"Under the commune we will have peace. Why?
Because there can be no hunger, no distress, no home
less ones where the wealth of all is distributed equally.
We will have no wars, because there will be nothing
to fight for. We will have no aristocrats where all
must labor for the common good; where all land is
equally divided ; where love, equality, and brotherhood
are the only laws — "

"Where's the mayor?" I whispered to Eyre.

"In his house; Speed is with him."

"Come on, then," I said, pushing my way around
the outskirts of the crowd to the mayor's house.

The door was shut and the blinds drawn, but a knock
brought Speed to the door, revolver in hand.

" Oh," he said, grimly, " it's time you arrived. Come
in."

The mayor was lying in his arm-chair, frightened,
sulky, obstinate, his fat form swathed in a red sash.

"0-ho!" I said, sharply, "so you already wear the
colors of the revolution, do you?"

" Dame, they tied it over my waistcoat," he said, " and
there are no gendarmes to help me arrest them — "

"Never mind that just now," I interrupted; "what
I want to know is why you wrote the governor of Lorient
to expel our circus."

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THE CIRCUS

"That's my own affair/' he snapped; "besides, who
said I wrote?"

" Idiot," I said, " somebody paid you to do it. Who
was it?"

The mayor, hunched up in his chair, shut his mouth
obstinately.

"Somebody paid you," I repeated; "you would
never have complained of us unless somebody paid
you, because our circus is bringing money into your
village. Come, my friend, that was easy to guess.
Now let me guess again that Buckhurst paid you to
complain of us."

The mayor looked slyly at me out of the corner of
his mottled eyes, but he remained mute.

"Very well," said I; "when the troops from Lorient
hear of this revolution in Paradise, they'll come and
chase these communards into the sea. And after that
they'll stand you up against a convenient wall and
give you thirty seconds for absolution — "

" Stop ! " burst out the mayor, struggling to his feet.
"What am I to do? This gentleman, Monsieur Buck-
hurst, will slay me if I disobey himl Besides," he added,
with cowardly cunning, " they are going to do the same
thing in Lorient, too — and everywhere — in Paris, in
Bordeaux, in Marseilles — even in Quimperle"! And
when all these cities are flying the red flag it won't be
comfortable for cities that fly the tricolor." He began
to bluster. "I'm mayor of Paradise, and I won't be
bullied 1 You get out of here with your circus and your
foolish elephants! I haven't any gendarmes just now
to drive you out, but you had better start, all the same
— before night."

"Oh," I said, "before night? Why before night?"

"Wait and see then," he muttered. "Anyway, get
out of my house — d' ye hear?"

" We are going to give that performance at two o'clock

19 289

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

this afternoon," I said. " After that, another to-morrow
at the same hour, and on every day at the same hour,
as long as it pays. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," sneered the mayor.

" And," I continued, " if the governor of Lorient sends
gendarmes to conduct us to the steamship in Lorient
harbor, they'll take with them somebody besides the
circus folk."

" You mean me?" he inquired.

"I do."

" What do I care?" he bawled in a fury. "You had
better go to Lorient, I tell you. What do you know
about the commune? What do you know about uni
versal brotherhood? Everybody's everybody's brother,
whether you like it or not ! I'm your brother, and if it
doesn't suit you you may go to the devil!"

Watching the infuriated magistrate, I said in English
to Speed : " This is interesting. Buckhurst has learned
we are here, and has paid this fellow heavily to have us
expelled. What sense do you make of all this? — for I
can make none."

"Nor can I," muttered Speed; "there's a link gone;
we'll find it soon, I fancy. Without that link there's
no logic in this matter."

" Look here," I said, sharply, to the mayor, who had
waddled toward the door, which was guarded by Kelly
Eyre.

"Well, I'm looking," he snarled.

Then I patiently pointed out to him his folly, and he
listened with ill-grace, obstinate, mute, dull cunning
gleaming from his half-closed eyes.

Then I asked him what he would do if the cruiser
began dropping shells into Paradise; he deliberately
winked at me and thrust his tongue into his cheek.

" So you know that the cruiser has gone? " I asked.

He grinned.

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THE CIRCUS

"Do you suppose Buckhurst's men hold the sema
phore? If they do, they sent that cruiser on a fool's
errand," whispered Speed.

Here was a nice plot ! I stepped to the window. Out
side in the square Buckhurst was still speaking to a
spellbound, gaping throng. A few men cheered him.
They were strangers in Paradise.

" What's he doing it for?" I asked, utterly at a loss to
account for proceedings which seemed to me the acme
of folly. "He must know that the commune cannot
be started here in Brittany! Speed, what is that man
up to?"

Behind us the mayor was angrily demanding that
we leave his house; and after a while we did so, skirt
ing the crowd once more to where, in a cleared space
near the fountain, Buckhurst stood, red flag in hand,
ranging a dozen peasants in line. The peasants were
not Paradise men; they wore the costumes of the in
terior, and somebody had already armed them with
scythes, rusty boar ding -pikes, stable -forks, and one
or two flintlock muskets. An evil -looking crew, if
ever I saw one; wild-eyed, long-haired, bare of knee
and ankle, loutish faces turned toward the slim, gray,
pale-faced orator who confronted them, flag in hand.
They were the scum of Morbihan.

He told them that they were his guard of honor, the
glory of their race — a sacred battalion whose names
should shine high on the imperishable battlements of
freedom.

Around them the calm-eyed peasants stared at them
stupidly; women gazed fascinated when Buckhurst,
raising his flag, pointed in silence to the mayor's house,
where that official stood in his doorway, observing the
scene :

"Forward!" said Buckhurst, and the grotesque es
cort started with a clatter of heavy sabots and a rattle

291

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

of scythes. The crowd fell back to give them way,
then closed in behind like a herd of sheep, following
to the mayor's house, where Buckhurst set his sen
tinels and then entered, closing the door behind him.

" Well!" muttered Speed, in amazement.

After a long silence, Kelly Eyre looked at his watch.
" It's time we were in the tent," he observed, dryly; and
we turned away without a word. At the bridge we
stopped and looked back. The red flag was flying
from the mayor's house.

" Speed," I said, " there's one thing certain : Byram
can't stay if there's going to be fighting here. I heard
guns at sea this morning; I don't know what that
may indicate. And here's this idiotic revolution start
ed in Paradise! That means the troops from Lorient,
and a wretched lot of bushwhacking and guerilla work.
Those Faouet Bretons that Buckhurst has recruited
are a bad lot; there is going to be trouble, I tell
you."

Eyre suggested that we arm our circus people, and
Speed promised to attend to it and to post them at the
tent doors, ready to resist any interference with the
performance on the part of Buckhurst's recruits.

It was already nearly one o'clock as we threaded our
way through the crowds at the entrance, where our band
was playing gayly and thousands of white head-dresses
fluttered in the sparkling sunshine that poured inter
mittently from a sky where great white clouds were
sailing seaward.

"Walk right up, messoors! Entry done, mesdames,
see voo play!" shouted Byram, waving a handful of
red and blue tickets. " Animals all on view before the
performance begins! Walk right into the corridor of
livin' marvels and defunct curiosities! Bring the lit
tle ones to see the elephant an' the camuel — the fleet
ship of the Sairy! Don't miss nothing! Don't fail

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THE CIRCUS

to contemplate le ploo magnifique spectacle in all
Europe! Don't let nobody say you died an' never saw
the only Flyin' Mermaid! An' don't forget the prize
— ten thousand francs to the man, woman, or che-ild
who can prove that this here Flyin' Mermaid ain't a
fictious bein' straight from Paradise!"

Speed and I made our way slowly through the crush
to the stables, then around to the dressing-rooms, where
little Grigg, in his spotted clown's costume, was putting
the last touches of vermilion to his white cheeks, and
Horan, draped in a mangy leopard -skin to imitate
Hercules, sat on his two - thousand - pound dumbbell,
curling his shiny black mustache with Mrs. Grigg's
iron.

"Jacqueline's dressed," cried Miss Crystal, parting
the curtain of her dressing-room, just enough to show
her pretty, excited eyes and nose.

"All right; I won't be long," replied Speed, who was
to act as ring-master. And he turned and looked at
me as I raised the canvas flap which screened my
dressing-room.

"I think," I said, "that we had better ride over to
Tr6court after the show — not that there's any imme
diate danger — "

"There is no immediate danger/' said Speed, "be
cause she is here."

My face began to burn; I looked at him miserably.
" How do you know?"

"She is there in the tent. I saw her."

He came up and held his hand on my shoulder. "I'm
sorry I told you," he said.

"Why?" I asked. "She knows what I am. Is
there any reason why she should not be amused? I
promise you she shall be!"

"Then why do you speak so bitterly? Don't mis
construe her presence. Don't be a contemptible fool.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

If I have read her face — and I have never spoken to her,
as you know — I tell you, Scarlett, that young girl is
going through an ordeal! Do women of that kind
come to shows like this to be amused?"

"What do you mean?" I said, angrily.

"I mean that she could not keep away! And I tell
you to be careful with your lions, to spare her any reck
lessness on your part, to finish as soon as you can, and
get out of that cursed cage. If you don't you're a
coward, and a selfish one at that!"

His words were like a blow in the face; I stared at
him, too confused even for anger.

"Oh, you fool, you fool!" he said, in a low voice.
"She cares for you; can't you understand?"

And he turned on his heel, leaving me speechless.

I do not remember dressing. When I came out into
the passage-way Byram beckoned me, and pointed at
a crack in the canvas through which one could see the
interior of the amphitheatre. A mellow light flooded
the great tent ; spots of sunshine fell on the fresh tan-
bark, where long, luminous, dusty beams slanted from
the ridge-pole athwart the golden gloom.

Tier on tier the wooden benches rose, packed with
women in brilliant holiday dress, with men gorgeous
in silver and velvet, with children decked in lace and
gilt chains. The air was filled with the starched rustle
of white coiffes and stiff collarettes; a low, incessant
clatter of sabots sounded from gallery to arena; gusts
of breathless whispering passed like capricious breezes
blowing, then died out in the hush which fell as our
band-master, McCadger, raised his wand and the band
burst into "Dixie."

At that the great canvas flaps over the stable entrance
slowly parted and the scarlet-draped head of Djebe, the
elephant, appeared. On he came, amid a rising roar
of approval, Speed in gorgeous robes perched on high,

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THE CIRCUS

ankus raised. After him came the camel, all over tas
sels and gold net, bestridden by Kelly Eyre, wearing
a costume seldom seen anywhere, and never in the
Sahara. White horses, piebald horses, and cream-
colored horses pranced in the camel's wake, dragging
assorted chariots tenanted by gentlemen in togas;
pretty little Mrs. Grigg, in habit and scarlet jacket,
followed on Briza, the white mare ; Horan came next,
driving more horses; the dens of ferocious beasts
creaked after, guarded by a phalanx of stalwart stable
men in plumes and armor ; then Miss Crystal, driving
zebras to a gilt chariot ; then more men in togas, leading
monkeys mounted on ponies ; and finally Mrs. Horan
seated on a huge egg drawn by ostriches.

Once only they circled the sawdust ring; then the
band stopped, the last of the procession disappeared,
the clown came shrieking and tumbling out into the
arena with his " Here we are again!"

And the show was on.

I stood in the shadow of the stable-tent, dressed in my
frock-coat, white stock, white cords, and hunting-boots,
sullen, imbittered, red with a false shame that better
men than I have weakened under, almost desperate in
my humiliation, almost ready to end it all there among
those tawny, restless brutes pacing behind the bars
at my elbow, watching me stealthily with luminous
eyes.

She knew what I was — but that she could come to
see with her own eyes I could not understand, I could
not forgive. Speed's senseless words rang in my ears
— "She cares for you!" But I knew they were mean
ingless, I knew she could not care for me. What fools'
paradise would he have me enter? What did he know
of this woman whom I knew and understood — whom I
honored for her tenderness and pity to all who suffered
— who I knew counted me as one among a multitude

295

of unhappy failures whom her kindness and sympathy
might aid.

Because she had, in her gracious ignorance, given
me a young girl's impulsive friendship, was I to mis
take her? What could Speed know of her — of her creed,
her ideals, her calm, passionless desire to help where
help was needed — anywhere — in the palace, in the fau
bourgs, in the wretched chaumieres, in the slums ? It was
all one to her — to this young girl whose tender heart,
bruised by her own sad life, opened to all on whom the
evil days had dawned.

And yet she had come here — and that was cruel;
and she was not cruel. Could she know that I had
a shred of pride left — one little, ragged thread of pride
left in me — that she should come to see me do my moun
tebank tricks to the applause of a greasy throng?

No, she had not thought of that, else she would have
stayed away ; for she was kind, above all else — gener
ous and kind.

Speed passed me in ring-master's dress; there came
the hollow thud of hoofs as Mrs. Grigg galloped into
the ring on her white mare, gauze skirts fluttering,
whip raised; and, "Hoop-la!" squealed the clown as
his pretty little wife went careering around and around
the tan-bark, leaping through paper-hoops, over hur
dles, while the band played frantically and the Bre
tons shouted in an ecstasy of excitement.

Then Grigg mounted his little trick donkey; roars
of laughter greeted his discomfiture when Tim, the
donkey, pitched him headlong and cantered off with a
hee-haw of triumph.

Miss Delany tripped past me in her sky-blue tights
to hold the audience spellbound with her jugglery,
and spin plates and throw glittering knives until the
satiated people turned to welcome Horan and his
"cogged" dumbbells and clubs.

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THE CIRCUS

"Have you seen her?" whispered Speed, coming up
to me, long whip trailing.

I shook my head.

He looked at me in disgust. " Here's something for
you," he said, shortly, and thrust an envelope into my
hand.

In the envelope was a little card on which was writ
ten: "I ask you to be careful, for a friend's sake."
On the other side of the card was engraved her name.

I raised my head and looked at Speed, who began
to laugh nervously. "That's better," he said; "you
don't look like a surly brute any more."

"Where is she?" I said, steadying my voice, which
my leaping heart almost stifled.

He drew me by the elbow and looked toward the
right of the amphitheatre. Following the direction of
his eyes, I saw her leaning forward, pale-faced, grave,
small, gloved hands interlocked. Beside her sat Syl
via Elven, apparently amused at the antics of the
clown.

Shame filled me. Not the false shame I had felt —
that vanished — but shame that I could have misun
derstood the presence of this brave friend of mine, this
brave, generous, tender-hearted girl, who had given
me her friendship, who was true enough to care what
might happen to me — and brave enough to say so.

"I will be careful," I said to Speed, in a low voice.
" If it were not for Byram I would not go on to-day —
but that is a matter of honor. Oh, Speed," I broke
out, "is she not worth dying for?"

"Why not live for her?" he observed, dryly.

" I will — don't misunderstand me — I know she could
never even think of me — as I do — of her — yes, as I dare
to, Speed. I dare to love her with all this wretched heart
and soul of mine! It's all right — I think I am crazy
to talk like this — but you are kind, Speed — you will

297

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

forget what I said — you have forgotten it already —
bless your heart — "

"No, I haven't," he retorted, obstinately. "You
must win her — you must ! Shame on you for a cow
ard if you do not speak that word which means life
to you both!"

"Speed!" I began, angrily.

"Oh, go to the devil!" he snapped, and walked off
to where Jacqueline stood glittering, her slim limbs
striking fire from every silver scale.

"All ready, little sweetheart!" he cried, reassuringly,
as she raised her blue eyes to his and shook her elf-
locks around her flushed face. "It's our turn now;
they're uncovering the tank, and Miss Crystal is on
her trapeze. Are you nervous?"

" Not when you are by me," said Jacqueline.

" I'll be there," he said, smiling. " You will see me
when you are ready. Look! There's the governor!
It's your call! Quick, my child!"

"Good-bye," said Jacqueline, catching his hand in
both of hers, and she was off and in the middle of
the ring before I could get to a place of vantage to
watch.

Up into the rigging she swung, higher, higher, hang
ing like a brilliant fly in all that net-work of wire and
rope, turning, twisting, climbing, dropping to her
knees, until the people's cheers rose to a sustained
shriek.

"Ready!" quavered Miss Crystal, hanging from her
own trapeze across the gulf.

It was the first signal. Jacqueline set her trapeze
swinging and hung by her knees, face downward.

"Ready!" called Miss Crystal again, as Jacque
line's trapeze swung higher and higher.

"Ready!" said Jacqueline, calmly.

"Go!"

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THE CIRCUS

Like a meteor the child flashed across the space
between the two trapezes; Miss Crystal caught her
by her ankles.

"Ready?" called Speed, from the ground below.
He had turned quite pale. I saw Jacqueline, hanging
head down, smile at him from her dizzy height.

"Ready," she said, calmly.

"Go!-"

Down, down, like a falling star, flashed Jacqueline
into the shallow pool, then shot to the surface, shim
mering like a leaping mullet, where she played and
dived and darted, while the people screamed them
selves hoarse, and Speed came out, ghastly and trem
bling, colliding with me like a blind man.

" I wish I had never let her do it ; I wish I had never
brought her here — never seen her," he stammered.
"She'll miss it some day — like Miss Claridge — and
it will be murder — and I'll have done it! Anybody
but that child, Scarlett, anybody else — but I can't
bear to have her die that way — the pretty little thing!"

He let go of my arm and stood back as my lion-cages
came rolling out, drawn by four horses.

" It's your turn," he said, in a dazed way. " Look
out for that lioness."

As I walked out into the arena I saw only one face.
She tried to smile, and so did I ; but a terrible, helpless
sensation was already creeping over me — the knowl
edge that I was causing her distress — the knowledge
that I was no longer sure of myself — that, with my
love for her, my authority over these caged things had
gone, never to return. I knew it, I recognized it, and
admitted it now. Speed's words rang true — horribly
true.

I entered the cage, afraid.

Almost instantly I was the centre of a snarling mass
of lions ; I saw nothing ; my whip rose and fell mechan-

299

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

ically. I stood like one stunned, while the tawny forms
leaped right and left.

Suddenly I heard a keeper say, "Look out for Em
press Khatoun, sir!" And a moment later a cry,
"Look out, sir!"

Something went wrong with another lion, too, for
the people were standing up and shouting, and the
sleeve of my coat hung from the elbow, showing my
bare shoulder. I staggered up against the bars of
the sliding door as a lioness struck me heavily and I
returned the blow. I remember saying, aloud: "I
must keep my feet; I must not fall!" Then daylight
grew red, and I was on my knees, with the foul breath
of a lion in my face. A hot iron bar shot across the
cage. The roaring of beasts and people died out in
my ears; then, with a shock, my soul seemed to be
dashed out of me into a terrific darkness.

PART THIRD

XVIII

A GUEST-CHAMBER

ALIGHT was shining in my eyes and I was talking
excitedly; that and the odor of brandy I remem
ber — and something else, a steady roaring in my ears ;
then darkness, out of which came a voice, empty, mean
ingless, finally soundless.

After a while I realized that I was in pain ; that, at
intervals, somebody forced morsels of ice between my
lips ; that the darkness around me had turned grayer.

Time played tricks on me ; centuries passed steadily,
year following year — long years they were, too, with
endless spring-tides, summers, autumns, winters, each
with full complement of months, and every month
crowded with days. Space, illimitable space, surround
ed me — skyless, starless space. And through its ter
rific silence I heard a clock ticking seconds of time.

Years and years later a yellow star rose and stood
still before my open eyes ; and after a long while I saw
it was the flame of a candle : and somebody spoke my
name.

"I know you, Speed," I said, drowsily.

"You are all right, Scarlett?"

"Yes, . . . all right."

"Does the candle-light pain you?"

"No; ... do they contract?"

" A little. . . . Yes, I am sure the pupils of your eyes
are contracting. Don't talk."

303

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"No; . . . then it was concussion of the brain?"

"Yes; . . . the shock is pasfeing. . . . Don't talk."

Time moved on again; space slowly contracted into
a symmetrical shape, set with little points of light;
sleep and fatigue alternated with glimmers of reason,
which finally grew into a faint but steady intelligence.
And, very delicately, memory stirred in a slumbering
brain.

Reason and memory were mine again, frail toys
for a stricken man, so frail I dared not, for a time,
use them for my amusement — and one of them was
broken, too — memory ! — broken short at the moment
when full in my face I had felt the hot, fetid breath
of a lion.

"Speed!"

"Yes; I am here."

"What time is it?"

I heard the click of his hunting - case. " Eleven
o'clock."

"What day?"

"Saturday."

"When — " I hesitated. I was afraid.

"Well?" he asked, quietly.

"When was I hurt? Many days ago — many
weeks?"

"You were hurt at half -past three this afternoon."

I tried to comprehend ; I could not, and after a while
I gave up my feeble grasp on time.

"What is that roaring sound?" I asked. "Not
drums? Not my lions?"

"It is the sea."

"So near?"

"Very near."

I turned my head on the white pillow. "Where is
this bed? Where is this room?"

"Shall I tell you?"

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A GUEST-CHAMBER

I was silent, struggling with memory.

"Tell me," I said. "Whose bed is this?"

"It is hers."

The candle -flame glimmered before my wide-open
eyes once more, and —

"Oh, you are all right," he muttered, then leaned
heavily against the bedside, dropping his arms on
the coverlet.

"It was a close call — a close call!" he said, hoarsely.
" We thought it was ended. . . . They were all over you
— Empress dragged you; but they all crowded in too
close — they blocked each other, you see; . . . and we
used the irons. . . . Your left arm lay close to the cage
door and ... we got you away from them, and . . . it's
all right now — it's all right — "

He broke down, head buried in his arms. I moved
my left hand across the sheets so that it rested on his
elbow. He lay there, gulping for a while; I could not
see him very clearly, for the muscles that controlled
my eyes were still slightly paralyzed from the shock
of the blow that Empress Khatoun had dealt me.

"It's all very well," he stammered, with a trace of
resentment in his quavering voice — " it's all very well
for people who are used to the filthy beasts; but I tell
you, Scarlett, it sickened me. I'm no coward, as men
go, but I was afraid — I was terrified!"

"Yet you dragged me out," I said.

"Who told you that? How could you know — "

"It was not necessary to tell me. You said, 'We
got you away ' ; but I know it was you, Speed, because
it was like you. Look at me! Am I well enough to
dress?"

He raised a haggard face to mine. "You know
best," he said. "They tore your coat off, and one of
them ripped your riding-boot from top to sole; but the
blow Empress struck you is your only hurt, and she

305

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

all but missed you at that. Had she hit you fairly —
but, oh, hell! Do you want to get up?"

I said I would in a moment, . . . and that is all I re
member that night, all I remember clearly, though it
seems to me that once I heard drums beating in the
distance; and perhaps I did.

Dawn was breaking when I awoke. Speed, partly
dressed, lay beside me, sleeping heavily. I looked
around at the pretty boudoir where I lay, at the silken
curtains of the bed, at the clouds of cupids on the paint
ed ceiling, flying through a haze of vermilion flecked
with gold.

Raising one hand, I touched with tentative fingers
my tightly bandaged head, then turned over on my
side.

There were my torn clothes, filthy and smeared with
sawdust, flung over a delicate, gilded chair; there
sprawled my battered boots, soiling the polished, in
laid floor ; a candle lay in a pool of hardened wax on
a golden rococo table, and I saw where the smoulder
ing wick had blistered the glazed top. And this was
her room! Vandalism unspeakable! I turned on my
snoring comrade.

"Idiot, get up!" I cried, hitting him feebly.

He was very angry when he found out why I had
awakened him ; perhaps the sight of my bandaged head
restrained him from violence.

" Look here," he said, " I've been up all night, and
you might as well know it. If you hit me again — "
He hesitated, stared around, yawned, and rubbed his
eyes.

"You're right," he said, " I must get up."

He stumbled to the floor, bathed, grumbling all the
while, and then, to my surprise, walked over to a flat
trunk which stood under the window and which I recog
nized as mine.

306

A GUEST-CHAMBER

" I'll borrow some underwear," he remarked, viciously.

"What's my trunk doing here?" I demanded.

"Madame de Vassart had them bring it."

"Had who bring it?"

"Horan and McCadger — before they left."

"Before they left? Have they gone?"

" I forgot," he said, soberly ; " you don't know what's
been going on."

He began to dress, raising his head now and then
to gaze out across the ocean towards Groix, where the
cruiser once lay at anchor.

" Of course you don't know that the circus has gone,"
he remarked.

"Gone!" I echoed, astonished. t

"Gone to Lorient."

He came and sat down on the edge of the gilded
bedstead, buttoning his collar thoughtfully.

"Buckhurst is in town again with a raft of pictu
resque ruffians," he said. "They marched in last
night, drums beating, colors unfurled — the red rag,
you know — and the first thing they did was to order
By ram to decamp."

He began to tie his cravat, with a meditative glance
at the gilded mirror.

"I was here with you. Kelly Eyre came for me —
Madame de Vassart took my place to watch you — "

A sudden heart-beat choked me.

" — So I," he continued, "posted off to the tent, to
find a rabble of communist soldiers stealing my bal
loon-car, ropes, bag, and all. I tell you I did what I
could, but they said the balloon was contraband of
war, and a military necessity; and they took it, the
thieving whelps! Then I saw how matters were go
ing to end, and I told the governor that he'd better go
to Lorient as fast as he could travel before they stole
the buttons off his shirt.

307

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Scarlett, it was a weird sight. I never saw tents
struck so quickly. Kelly Eyre, Horan, and I har
nessed up ; Grigg stood guard over the props
with a horse-pistol. The ladies worked like Trojans,
loading the wagons; Byram raged up and down
under the bayonets of those bandits, cursing them
as only a man who never swears can curse, invok
ing the Stars and Stripes, metaphorically placing
himself, his company, his money-box, and his camuel
under the shadow of the broad eagle of the United
States.

" Oh, those were gay times, Scarlett. And we fright
ened them, too, because nobody attempted to touch
anything."

Speed laughed grimly, and began to pace the floor,
casting sharp glances at me.

"Byram's people, elephant and all, struck the road
a little after three o'clock this morning, in good order,
not a tent-peg nor a frying-pan missing. They ought
to be in Lorient by early afternoon."

"Gone!" I repeated, blankly.

"Gone. Curious how it hurt me to say good-bye.
They're good people — good, kindly folk. I've grown
to care for them in these few months. ... I may go
back to them . . . some day ... if they want a balloon
ist ... or any kind of a thing."

"You stayed to take care of me?" I said.

"Partly. . . . You need care, especially when you
don't need it." He began to laugh. "It's only when
you're well that I worry."

I lay looking at him, striving to realize the change
that had occurred in so brief a time — trying to under
stand the abrupt severing of ties and conditions to
which, already, I had become accustomed — perhaps
attached.

"They all sent their love to you," he said. "They
308

A GUEST-CHAMBER

knew you were out of danger — I told them there was
no fracture, only a slight concussion. Byram came
to look at you; he brought your back salary — all of
it. I've got it."

"Byram came here?"

"Yes. He stood over there beside you, snivelling
into his red bandanna. And Miss Crystal and Jacque
line stood here. . . . Jacqueline kissed you."

After a moment I said : " Has Jacqueline gone with
them?"

"Yes."

There was another pause, longer this time.

"Of course," I said, "Byram knows that my use
fulness as a lion-tamer is at an end."

"Of course," said Speed, simply.

I sighed.

" He wants you for the horses," added Speed. " But
you can do better than that."

"I don't know, . . . perhaps."

"Besides, they sail to-day from Lorient. The gov
ernor made money yesterday — enough to start again.
Poor Byram! He's frantic to get back to America;
and, oh, Scarlett, how that good old man can swear!"

"Help me to sit up in bed," I said; "there — that's
it! Just wedge those pillows behind my shoulders."

"All right?"

"Of course. I'm going to dress. Speed, did you
say that little Jacqueline went with Byram?"

He looked at me miserably.

"Yes," he said.

I was silent.

"Yes," he repeated, "she went, lugging her pet cat
in her arms. She would go; the life has fascinated
her. I begged her not to — I felt I was disloyal to By
ram, too, but what could I do? I tell you, Scarlett, I
wish I had never seen her, never persuaded her to try

309

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

that foolish dive. She'll miss some day — like the
other one."

"It's my fault more than yours," I said. "Couldn't
you persuade her to give it up?"

"I offered to educate her, to send her to school, to
work for her," he said. "She only looked at me out
of those sea-blue eyes — you know how the little witch
can look you through and through — and then — and
then she walked away into the torch-glare, clasping
her cat to her breast, and I saw her strike a fool of a
soldier who pretended to stop her! Scarlett, she was
a strange child — proud and dainty, too, with all her
rags — you remember — a strange, sweet child — almost
a woman, at times, and — I thought her loyal — "

He walked to the window and stared moodily at the
sea.

"Meanwhile," I said, quietly, "I am going to get
up."

He gave me a look which I interpreted as, " Get up
and be damned!" I complied — in part.

"Oh, help me into these things, will you?" I said,
at length ; and instantly he was at my side, gentle and
patient, lacing my shoes, because it made my head
ache to bend over, buttoning collar and cravat, and
slipping my coat on while I leaned against the tum
bled bed.

" Well !" I said, with a grimace, and stood up, shakily.

" Well," he echoed, " here we are again, as poor little
Grigg says."

"With our salaries in our pockets and our posses
sions on our backs."

" And no prospects," he added, gayly.

"Not a blessed one, unless we count a prospect of
trouble with Buckhurst."

" He won't trouble us unless we interfere with him,"
observed Speed, drumming nervously on the window.

310

A GUEST-CHAMBER

" But I'm going to," I said, surprised.

"Going to interfere?" he asked, wheeling to scowl
at me.

"Certainly."

"Why? We're not in government employ. What
do we care about this row? If these Frenchmen are
tired of battering the Germans they'll batter each other,
and we can't help it, can we?"

"We can help Buckhurst's annoying Madame de
Vassart."

"Only by getting her to leave the country," said
Speed. "She will understand that, too." He paused,
rubbing his nose reflectively. " Scarlett, what do you
suppose Buckhurst is up to?"

" I haven't an idea," I replied. " All I know is that,
in all probability, he came here to attempt to rob the
treasure-trains — and that was your theory, too, you
remember?"

And I continued, reminding Speed that Buckhurst
had collected his ruffianly franc company in the forest ;
that the day the cruiser sailed he had appeared in Para
dise to proclaim the commune; that doubtless he had
signalled, from the semaphore, orders for the cruiser's
departure ; that a few hours later his red battalion had
marched into Paradise.

"Yes, that's all logical," said Speed, "but how
could Buckhurst know the secret-code signals which
the cruiser must have received before she sailed? To
hoist them on the semaphore, he must have had a
code-book."

I thought a moment. "Suppose Mornac is with
him?"

Speed fairly jumped. "That's it! That's the link
we were hunting for! It's Mornac — it must be Mor
nac ! He is the only man ; he had access to every
thing. And now that his Emperor is a prisoner and

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

his Empress a fugitive, the miserable hound has noth
ing [to lose by the anarchy he once hoped to profit
by. Tell me, Scarlett, does the tail wag the dog,
after all? And which is the dog, Buckhurst or
Mornac?"

"I once thought it was Buckhurst," I said.

"So did I, but — I don't know now. I don't know
what to do, either. I don't know anything!"

I began to walk about the room, carefully, for my
knees were weak, though I had no headache.

" It's a shame for a pair of hulking brutes like you
and me to desecrate this bedroom," I muttered. " Mud
on the floor — look at it! Sawdust and candle- wax
over everything ! What's that — all that on the lounge?
Has a dog or a cat been rolling over it? It's plastered
with tan-colored hairs!"

" Lion's hairs from your coat," he observed, grimly.

I looked at them for a moment rather soberly. They
glistened like gold in the early sunshine.

Speed opened his mouth to say something, but closed
it abruptly as a very faint tapping sounded on our
door.

I opened it ; Sylvia Elven stood in the hallway.

"Oh," she said, in ungracious astonishment, "then
you are not on the grave's awful verge, . . . are
you?"

"I hope you didn't expect to discover me there?"
I replied, laughing.

"Expect it? Indeed I did, monsieur, ... or I
shouldn't be here at sunrise, scratching at your door
for news of you. This," she said, petulantly, "is
enough to vex any saint!"

"Any other saint," I corrected, gravely. "I admit
it, mademoiselle, I am a nuisance; so is my comrade.
We have only to express our deep gratitude and go."

" Go? Do you think we will let you go, with all those
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A GUEST-CHAMBER

bandits roaming the moors outside our windows? And
you call that gratitude?"

"Does Madame de Vassart desire us to stay?" I
asked, trying not to speak too eagerly.

Sylvia Elven gave me a scornful glance.

"Must we implore you, monsieur, to protect us?
We will, if you wish it. I know I'm ill-humored, but
it's scarcely daybreak, and we've sat up all night on
your account — Madame de Vassart would not allow
me to go to bed — and if I am brusque with you, remem
ber I was obliged to sleep in a chair — and I hope
you feel that you have put me to very great incon
venience."

"I feel that way . . . about Madame de Vassart,"
I said, laughing at the pretty, pouting mouth and
sleepy eyes of this amusingly exasperated young
girl, who resembled a rumpled Dresden shepherdess
more than anything else. I added that we would be
glad to stay until the communist free-rifles took them
selves off. For which she thanked me with an ex
aggerated courtesy and retired, furiously conscious
that she had not only slept in her clothes, but that
she looked it.

" That was Madame de Vassart's companion, wasn't
it?" asked Speed.

" Yes, Sylvia Elven. ... I don't know what she is
— I know what she was — no, I don't, either. I only
know what Jarras says she was."

Speed raised his eyebrows. "And what was that?"

"Actress, at the Odeon."

" Never heard of her being at the Ode"on," he said.

"You heard of her as one of that group at La
Trappe?"

"Yes."

"Well, when I was looking for Buckhurst in Mors-
bronn, Jarras telegraphed me descriptions of the people

313

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

I was to arrest at La Trappe, and he mentioned her as
Mademoiselle Sylvia Elven, lately of the Odeon."

"That was a mistake/' said Speed. "What he
meant to say was that she was lately a resident of the
Odeonsplatz. He knew that. It must have been a
telegraphic error."

"How do you know?" I asked, surprised.

"Because I furnished Jarras with the data. It's in
her dossier."

"Odeon — Odeonsplatz," I muttered, trying to un
derstand. "What is the Odeonsplatz? A square in
some German city, isn't it?"

"It's a square in the capital of Bavaria — Munich."

"But — but she isn't a German, is she? Is she?" I
repeated, staring at Speed, who was looking keenly at
me, with eyes partly closed.

There was a long silence.

"Well, upon my soul!" I said, slowly, emphasizing
every word with a noiseless blow on the table.

"Didn't you know it? Waitl Hold on," he said,
"let's go slowly — let's go very slowly. She is part
ly German by birth. That proves nothing. Granted
that Jarras suspected her, not as a social agitator, but
as a German agent. Granted he did not tell you what
he suspected, but merely ordered her arrest with the
others — perhaps under cover of Buckhurst's arrest —
you know what a secret man, the Emperor was — how,
if he wanted a man, he'd never chase him, but run in
the opposite direction and head him off half-way around
the world. So, granted all this, I say, what's to prove
Jarras was right?"

" Does her dossier prove it? You have read it."

" Well, her dossier was rather incomplete. We knew
that she went about a good deal in Paris — went to the
Tuileries, too She was married once. Didn't you
know even that?"

314

A GUEST-CHAMBER

"Married!" I exclaimed.

"To a Russian brute — I've forgotten his name, but
I've seen him — one of the kind with high cheek-bones
and black eyes. She got her divorce in England;
that's on record, and we have it in her dossier. Then,
going back still further, we know that her father was a
Bavarian, a petty noble of some sort — baron, I believe.
Her mother's name was Elven, a Breton peasant; it
was a mesalliance — trouble of all sorts — I forget, but
I believe her uncle brought her up. Her uncle was
military attache of the German embassy to Paris. . . .
You see how she slipped into society — and you know
what society under the Empire was."

"Speed," I said, "why on earth didn't you tell me
all this before?"

"My dear fellow, I, supposed Jarras had told you;
or that, if you didn't know it, it did not concern us at
all."

"But it does concern — a person I know," I said,
quickly, thinking of poor Kelly Eyre. "And it ex
plains a lot of things — or, rather, places them under a
new light."

"What light?"

" Well, for one thing, she has consistently lied to me.
For another, I believe her to be hand-in-glove with Karl
Marx and the French leaders — not Buckhurst, but the
real leaders of the social revolt ; not as a genuine disciple,
but as a German agent, with orders to foment disorder
of any kind which might tend to embarrass and weaken
the French government in this crisis."

"You're inclined to believe that?" he asked, much
interested.

"Yes, I am. France is full of German agents; the
Tuileries was not exempt — you know it as well as I.
Paris swarmed with spies of every kind, high and low
in the social scale. The embassies were nests of spies ;

315

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

every salon a breeding spot of intrigue; the foreign
governments employed the grande dame as well as
the grisette. Do you remember the military-balloon
scandal?"

" Indistinctly. . . . Some poor devil gave a woman
government papers."

"Technically they were government papers, but he
considered them his own. Well, the woman who re
ceived those papers is down-stairs."

He gave a short whistle of astonishment.

"You are sure, Scarlett?"

"Perfectly certain."

"Then, if you are certain, that settles the question
of Mademoiselle Elven's present occupation."

I rose and began to move around the room restlessly.

" But, after all," I said, " that concerns us no longer."

"How can it concern two Americans out of a job?"
he observed, with a shrug. "The whole fabric of
French politics is rotten to the foundation. It's totter
ing; a shake will bring it down. Let it tumble. I
tell you this nation needs the purification of fire. Our
own country has just .gone through it ; France can do
it, too. She's got to, or she's lost!"

He looked at me earnestly. "I love the country,"
he said ; " it's fed me and harbored me. But I wouldn't
lift a finger to put a single patch on this makeshift of
a government; I wouldn't stave off the crash if I could.
And it's coming! You and I have seen something of
the rottenness of the underpinning which props up
empires. You and I, Scarlett, have learned a few of
the shameful secrets which even an enemy to France
would not drag out into the daylight."

I had never seen him so deeply moved.

" Is there hope — is there a glimmer of hope to incite
anybody while these conditions endure?" he continued,
bitterly.

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A GUEST-CHAMBER

" No. France must suffer, France must stand alone
in terrible humiliation, France must offer the self-
sacrifice of fire and mount the altar herself!

"Then, and only then, shall the nation, purified,
reborn, rise and live, and build again, setting a beacon
of civilized freedom high as the beacon we Americans
are raising, . . . slowly yet surely raising, to the glory
of God, Scarlett — to the glory of God. No other dedi
cation can be justified in this world."

XIX

TRfiCOURT GARDEN

ABOUT nine o'clock we were summoned by a Bre
ton maid to the pretty breakfast-room below, and
I was ashamed to go with my shabby clothes, ban
daged head, and face the color of clay. •

The young countess was not present; Sylvia Elven
offered us a supercilious welcome to a breakfast the
counterpart of which I had not seen in years — one of
those American breakfasts which even we, since the
Paris Exposition, are beginning to discard for the sim
pler French breakfast of coffee and rolls.

"This is all in your honor," observed Sylvia, turn
ing up her nose at the array of poached eggs, fragrant
sausages, crisp potatoes, piles of buttered toast, muf
fins, marmalade, and fruit.

"It was very kind of you to think of it," said Speed.

"It is Madame de Vassart's idea, not mine," she
observed, looking across the table at me. "Will the
gentleman with nine lives have coffee or chocolate?"

The fruit consisted of grapes and those winy Breton
cider-apples from Bannalec. We began with these in
decorous silence.

Speed ventured a few comments on the cultivation of
fruit, of which he knew nothing; neither he nor his
subject was encouraged.

Presently, however, Sylvia glanced up at him with
a malicious smile, saying: "I notice that you have

TRECOURT GARDEN

been in the foreign division of the Imperial Military
Police, monsieur."

"Why do you think so?" asked Speed, calmly.

"When you seated yourself in your chair," said
Sylvia, "you made a gesture with your left hand
as though to unhook the sabre — which was not
there."

Speed laughed. "But why the police? I might
have been in the cavalry, mademoiselle; for that mat
ter, I might have been an officer in any arm of the ser
vice. They all carry swords or sabres."

"But only the military police and the gendarmerie
wear aiguilettes," she replied. "When you bend
over your plate your fingers are ever unconsciously
searching for those swinging, gold-tipped cords — to
keep them out of your coffee-cup, monsieur."

The muscles in Speed's lean, bronzed cheeks tight
ened; he looked at her keenly.

"Might I not have been in the gendarmerie?" he
asked. " How do you know I was not?"

"Does the gendarmerie wear the sabre-tache?"

"No, mademoiselle, but — "

"Do the military police?"

"No — that is, the foreign division did, when it ex
isted."

"You are sitting, monsieur," she said, placidly,
" with your left foot so far under the table that it quite
inadvertently presses my shoe-tip."

Speed withdrew his leg with a jerk, asking par
don.

"It is a habit perfectly pardonable in a man who is
careful that his spur shall not scratch or tear a patent-
leather sabre-tache," she said.

I had absolutely nothing to say; we both laughed
feebly, I believe.

I saw temptation struggling with Speed's caution;
319

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

I, too, was almost willing to drop a hint that might
change her amusement to speculation, if not to alarm.

So this was the woman for whose caprice Kelly Eyre
had wrecked his prospects ! Clever — oh, certainly
clever. But she had made the inevitable slip that such
clever people always make sooner or later. And in a
bantering message to her victim she had completed
the chain against herself — a chain of which I might
have been left in absolute ignorance. Impulse prob
ably did it — reasonless and perhaps malicious caprice
— the instinct of a pretty woman to stir up memory in
a discarded and long - forgotten victim — just to note
the effect — just to see if there still remains one nerve,
one pulse-beat to respond.

" Will the pensive gentleman with nine lives have a
little more nourishment to sustain him?" she asked.

Looking up from my empty plate, I declined politely ;
and we followed her signal to rise.

"There is a Mr. Kelly Eyre," she said to Speed,
"connected with your circus. Has he gone with the
others?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Really?" she mused, amiably. "I knew him as a
student in Paris, when he was very young — and I was
younger. I should have liked to have seen him —
once more."

" Did you not see him?" I asked, abruptly.

Her back was toward me; very deliberately she
turned her pretty head and looked at me over her shoul
der, studying my face a moment.

" Yes, I saw him. I should have liked to have seen
him — once more," she said, as though she had first
calculated the effect on me of a different reply.

She led the way into that small room overlook
ing the garden where I had been twice received by
Madame de Vassart. Here she took leave of us,

320

TRECOURT GARDEN

abandoning us to our own designs. Mine was to
find a large arm-chair and sit down in it, and give
Speed a few instructions. Speed's was to prowl
around Paradise for information, and, if possible,
telegraph to Lorient for troops to catch Buckhurst
red-handed.

He left me turning over the leaves of the " Chanson
de Roland," saying that he would return in a little while
with any news he might pick up, and that he would do
his best to catch Buckhurst in the foolish trap which
that gentleman had set for others.

Tiring of the poem, I turned my eyes toward the
garden, where, in the sunshine, heaps of crisped leaves
lay drifted along the base of the wall or scattered be
tween the rows of herbs which were still ripely green.
The apricots had lost their leaves, so had the grape
vines and the fig-trees; but the peach-trees were in
foliage; pansies and perpetual roses bloomed amid
sere and seedy thickets of larkspurs, phlox, and dead
delphinium.

On the wall a cat sat, sunning her sleek flanks.
Something about the animal seemed familiar to me,
and after a while I made up my mind that this was
Ange Pitou, Jacqueline's pet, abandoned by her mis
tress and now a feline derelict. Speed must have been
mistaken when he told me that Jacqueline had taken
her cat; or possibly the home-haunting instinct had
brought the creature back, abandoning her mistress
to her fortunes.

If I had been in my own house I should have offered
Ange Pitou hospitality; as it was, I walked out into
the sunny garden and made courteous advances which
were ignored. I watched the cat for a few moments,
then sat down on the bench. The inertia which fol
lows recovery from a shock, however light, left me
with the lazy acquiescence of a convalescent, willing

« 321

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

to let the world drift for an hour or two, contented to
relax, apathetic, comfortable.

Seaward the gulls sailed like white feathers float
ing ; the rocky ramparts of Groix rose clear-cut against
a horizon where no haze curtained the sea; the break
ers had receded from the coast on a heavy ebb-tide,
and I saw them in frothy outline, noiselessly churning
the shallows beyond the outer bar.

And then my reverie ended abruptly; a step on the
gravel walk brought me to my feet. . . . There she
stood, lovely in a fresh morning-gown deeply belted
with turquoise-shells, her ruddy hair glistening, coiled
low on a neck of snow.

For the first time she showed embarrassment in her
greeting, scarcely touching my hand, speaking with
a new constraint in a voice which grew colder as she
hesitated.

" We were frightened ; we are so glad that you were
not badly hurt. I thought you might find it comfort
able here — of course I could not know that you were
not seriously injured."

"That is fortunate for me," I said, pleasantly, "for
I am afraid you would not have offered this shelter if
you had known how little injured I really was."

"Yes, I should have offered it — had I reason to be
lieve you would have accepted. I have felt that per
haps you might think what I have done was unwar
ranted."

" I think you did the most graciously unselfish thing
a woman could do," I said, quickly. "You offered
your best; and the man who took it cannot — dare not
— express his gratitude."

The emotion in my voice warned me to cease; the
faintest color tinted her cheeks, and she looked at me
with beautiful, grave eyes that slowly grew inscrutable,
leaving me standing diffident and silent before her.

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TRECOURT GARDEN

The breeze shifted, bringing with it the hollow sea-
thunder. She turned her head and glanced out across
the ocean, hands behind her, fingers linked.

"I have come here into your garden uninvited/' I
said.

"Shall we sit here — a moment?" she suggested,
without turning.

Presently she seated herself in one corner of the
bench; her gaze wandered over the partly blighted
garden, then once more centred on the seaward sky
line.

The color of her hands, her neck, fascinated me.
That flesh texture of snow and roses, firmly and deli
cately modelled, which sometimes is seen with red
hair, I had seen once before in a picture by a Spanish
master, but never, until now, in real life.

And she was life incarnate in her wholesome beauty
— a beauty of which I had perceived only the sad shadow
at La Trappe — a sweet, healthy, exquisite woman,
moulded, fashioned, colored by a greater Master than
the Spanish painter dreaming of perfection centuries
ago.

In the sun a fragrance grew — the subtle incense
from her gown — perhaps from her hair.

"Autumn is already gone; we are close to winter,"
she said, under her breath. "See, there is nothing
left — scarcely a blossom — a rose or two; but the first
frost will scatter the petals. Look at the pinks; look
at the dead leaves. Ah, tristesse, tristesse! The life
of summer is too short ; the life of flowers is too short ;
so are our lives, Monsieur Scarlett. Do you believe it?"

"Yes— now."

She was very still for a while, her head bent toward
the sea. Then, without turning : " Have you not al
ways believed it?"

"No, madame."

323

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Then . . . why do you believe it ... now?"

"Because, since we have become friends, life seems
pitiably short for such a friendship."

She smiled without moving.

" That is a ... very beautiful . . . compliment, mon
sieur."

"It owes its beauty to its truth, madame."

"And that reply is illogical," she said, turning to
look at me with brilliant eyes and a gay smile which
emphasized the sensitive mouth's faint droop. "Il
logical, because truth is not always beautiful. As
example: you were very near to death yesterday.
That is the truth, but it is not beautiful at all."

"Ah, madame, it is you who are illogical," I said,
laughing.

"I?" she cried. "Prove it!"

But I would not, spite of her challenge and bright
mockery.

In that flash all of our comradeship returned, bring
ing with it something new, which I dared not think was
intimacy.

Yet constraint fell away like a curtain between us,
and though she dominated, and I was afraid lest I
overstep limits which I myself had set, the charm of
her careless confidence, her pretty, undissembled ca
prices, her pleasure in a delicately intimate badinage,
gave me something of a self-reliance, a freedom that I
had not known in a woman's presence for many years.

"We brought you here because we thought it was
good for you," she said, reverting maliciously to the
theme that had at first embarrassed her. "We were
perfectly certain that you have always been unfit to
take care of yourself. Now we have the proofs."

" Mademoiselle Elven said that you harbored us only
because you were afraid of those bandits who have
arrived in Paradise," I observed.

324

TRECOURT GARDEN

"Afraid!" she said, scornfully. "Oh, you are mak
ing fun of me now. Indeed, when Mr. Buckhurst
came last night I had my men conduct him to the
outer gate!"

"Did he come last night?" I asked, troubled.

"Yes." She shrugged her pretty shoulders.

"Alone?"

" That unspeakable creature, Mornac, was with him.
I had no idea he was here ; had you?"

I was silent. Did Mornac mean trouble for me?
Yet how could he, shorn now of all authority?

The thought seemed to occur to her, too, and she
looked up quickly, asking if I had anything to fear.

"Only for you," I said.

"For me? Why? I am not afraid of such men.
I have servants on whom I can call to disembarrass
me of such people." She hesitated; the memory of
her deception, of what she had suffered at Buckhurst's
hands, brought a glint of anger into her beautiful eyes.

"My innocence shames me," she said. "I merited
what I received in such company. It was you who
saved me from myself."

"A noble mind thinks nobly," I said. "Theirs is
the shame, not yours, that you could not understand
treachery — that you never can understand it. As for
me, I was an accident, which warned you in time that
all the world was not as good and true as you desired
to believe it."

She sat looking at me curiously. "I wonder," she
said, "why it is that you do not know your own
value?"

"My value — to whom?"

"To ... everybody — to the world — to people."

"Am I of any value to you, madame?"

The pulsing moments passed and she did not answer,
and I bit my lip and waited. At last she said, coolly :

325

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

" A man must appraise himself. If he chooses, he is
valuable. But values are comparative, and depend
on individual taste. . . . Yes, you are of some value
to me, ... or I should not be here with you, ... or I
should not find it my pleasure to be here — or I should
not trust you, come to you with my petty troubles, ask
your experience to help me, perhaps protect me."

She bent her head with adorable diffidence. "Mon
sieur Scarlett, I have never before had a friend who
thought first of me and last of himself."

I leaned on the back of the bench, resting my ban
daged forehead on my hand.

She looked up after a moment, and her face grew
serious.

"Are you suffering?" she asked. "Your face is
white as my sleeve."

"I feel curiously tired," I said, smiling.

"Then you must have some tea, and I will brew it
myself. You shall not object! No — it is useless, be
cause I am determined. And you shall lie down in
the little tea-room, where I found you that day when
you first came to Trecourt."

"I shall be very happy to do anything — if you are
there."

"Even drink tea when you abhor it? Then I cer
tainly ought to reward you with my presence at the
rite. . . . Are you dizzy? You are terribly pale. . . .
Would you lean on my arm?"

I was not dizzy, but I did so; and if such deceit is
not pardonable, there is no justice in this world or in
the next.

The tea was hot and harmless; I lay thinking while
she sat in the sunny window-corner, nibbling biscuit
and marmalade, and watching me gravely.

"My appetite is dreadful in these days," she said;
"age increases it; I have just had my chocolate, yet

326

TRECOURT GARDEN

here am I, eating like a school-girl. ... I have a strange
idea that I am exceedingly 37oung, . . . that I am just
beginning to live. That tired, thin, shabby girl you
saw at La Trappe was certainly not I. ... And long
before that, before I knew you, there was another im
personal, half - awakened creature, who watched the
world surging and receding around her, who grew
tired even of violets and bonbons, tired of the compan
ionship of the indifferent, hurt by the intimacy of the
unfriendly; and I cannot believe that she was I. ...
Can you?"

"I can believe it; I once saw you then/' I said.

She looked up quickly. "Where?"

"In Paris."

"When?"

"The day that they received the news from Mexico.
You sat in your carriage before the gates of the war
office."

"I remember," she said, staring at me. Then a
slight shudder passed over her.

Presently she said: "Did you recognize me after
ward at La Trappe?"

"Yes, . . . you had grown more beautiful."

She colored and bent her head.

"You remembered me all that time? . . . But why
didn't you — didn't you — " She laughed nervously.
"Why didn't we know each other in those years?
Truly, Monsieur Scarlett, I needed a friend then, if
ever ; . . . a friend who thought first of me and last of
himself."

I did not answer.

"Fancy," she continued, "your passing me so long
ago, . . . and I totally unconscious, sitting there in my
carriage, . . . never dreaming of this friendship which
I ... care for so much! ... Do you remember at La
Trappe what I told you, there on the staircase? — how

327

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

sometimes the impulse used to come to me when I saw
a kindly face in the street to cry out, ' Be friends with
me!' Do you remember? ... It is strange that I did
not feel that impulse when you passed me that day in
Paris — feel it even though I did not see you — for I
sorely needed kindness then, kindness and wisdom;
and both passed by, at my elbow, . . . and I did not
know." She bent her head, smiling with an effort.
"You should have thrown yourself astride the horse
and galloped away with me. . . . They did those things
once, Monsieur Scarlett — on this very spot, too, in the
days of the Saxon pirates."

The whirring monotone of the spinning-wheel sud
denly filled the house ; Sylvia was singing at her wheel :

" Woe to the maids of Paradise !

Yvonne !
Twice have the Saxons landed ; twice 1

Yvonne !
Yet shall Paradise see them thrice,

Yvonne! Yvonne! Marivonikl"

"The prophecy of that Breton spinning song is
being fulfilled," I said. "For the third time we Sax
ons have come to Paradise, you see."

"But this time our Saxons are not very formidable,"
she said, raising her beautiful gray eyes; "and the
gwerz says, 'Woe to the maids of Paradise!' Do you
intend to bring woe upon us maids of Paradise — do you
come to carry us off, monsieur?"

" If you will go with — me," I said, smiling.

"All of us?"

"Only one, madame."

She started to speak, then her eyes fell. She laughed
uncertainly. "Which one among us, if you please —
mizilour skier ha brillant deuz ar fidelite?"

"Met na varwin Ket Kontant, ma na varwan fidel,"
328

TRECOURT GARDEN

I said, slowly, as the words of the song came back to
me. "I shall choose only the fairest and loveliest,
madame. You know it is always that way in the story. "
My voice was not perfectly steady, nor was hers when
she smiled and wished me happiness and a long life
with the maid of Paradise I had chosen, even though I
took her by force.

Then constraint crept in between us, and I was grimly
weighing the friendship this woman had given me —
weighing it in the balance against a single hope.

Once she looked across at me with questioning eyes
in which I thought I read dawning disappointment.
It almost terrified me. ... I could not lose her con
fidence, ... I could not, and go through life without
it. ... But I could live a hopeless life to its end with
that confidence. . . . And I must do so, ... and be
content.

"I suppose," said I, thinking aloud, "that I had
better go to England."

"When?" she asked, without raising her head.

"In a day or two. I can find employment there, I
think."

"Is it necessary that you find employment ... so
soon?"

"Yes," I said, with a meaningless laugh, "I fear it
is."

"What will you do?"

"Oh, the army — horses — something of that kind.
Riding-master, perhaps — perhaps Scotland Yard. I
may not be able to pick and choose. ... If I ever save
enough money for the voyage, perhaps you would let
me come, once in a long while, to pay my respects,
madame?"

"Yes, . . . come, if you wish."

She said no more, nor did I. Presently Sylvia ap
peared with a peasant woman, and the young countess

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

went away, followed by the housekeeper with her keys
at her girdle.

I rose and walked to the window; then, nerveless
and depressed, I went out into the garden again to
smoke a cigar.

The cat had disappeared; I traversed the garden,
passed through the side wicket, and found myself on
the cliffs. Almost immediately I was aware of a young
girl, a child, seated on the rocks, her chin propped on
her hands, the sea-wind blowing her curly elf-locks
across her cheeks and eyes. A bundle tied in a hand
kerchief lay beside her ; a cat dozed in her lap, its sleek
fur stirring in the wind.

"Jacqueline!" I said, gently.

She raised her head; the movement awakened the
cat, who stood up in her lap, stretching and yawning
vigorously.

"I thought you were to sail from Lorient to-day?"

The cat stepped purring from her knees; the child
rose, pushing back her hair from her eyes with both
hands.

"Where is Speed?" she asked, drowsily.

"Did you want to see him, Jacqueline?"

"That is why I returned."

"To see Speed?"

"Parbleu."

"And you are going to let the others sail without
you?"

"Yes."

"And give up the circus forever, Jacqueline?"

"Y-es."

"Just because you want to see Speed?"

"Only for that."

She stood rubbing her eyes with her small fists, as
though just awakened.

"Oui," she said, without emotion, "c'est comme ca,
330

TRECOURT GARDEN

«

m'sieu. Where the heart is, happiness lies. I left
the others at the city gate; I said, 'Voyons, let us be
reasonable, gentlemen. I am happy in your circus;
I am happy with Speed; I can be contented without
your circus, but I cannot be contented without Speed.
Voila!' ... and then I went."

" You walked back all the way from Lorient?"

"Bien sur! I have no carriage — I, Jacqueline."
She stretched her slim figure, raised her arms slowly,
and yawned. "Pardon," she murmured, "I have
slept in the gorse — badly."

"Come into the garden," I said; "we can talk while
you rest."

She thanked me tranquilly, picked up her bundle,
and followed me with a slight limp. The cat, tail up,
came behind.

The young countess was standing at the window
as we approached in solemn single file along the path,
and when she caught sight of us she opened the door
and stepped out on the tiny porch.

" Why, this is our little Jacqueline," she said, quick
ly. " They have taken your father for the conscription,
have they not, my child? And now you are homeless ! "

"I think so, madame."

" Then you will stay with me until he returns, won't
you, little one?"

There was a moment's pause; Jacqueline made a
grave gesture. "This is my cat, madame — Ange
Pitou."

The countess stared at the cat, then broke out into
the prettiest peal of laughter. "Of course you must
bring your cat ! My invitation is also for Ange Pitou,
you understand."

"Then we thank you, and permit ourselves to ac
cept, madame," said Jacqueline. "We are very glad
because we are quite hungry, and we have thorns

331

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

from the gorse in our feet — " She broke off with
a joyous little cry: "There is Speed!" And Speed,
entering the garden hurriedly, stopped short in his
tracks.

The child ran to him and threw both arms around
his neck. "Oh, Speed! Speed!" she stammered, over
and over again. " I was too lonely ; I will do what
you wish; I will be instructed in the graces of edu
cation — truly I will. I am glad to come back — and
I -am so tired, Speed. I will never go away from you
again. . . . Oh, Speed, I am contented! ... Do you
love me?"

" Dearly, little sweetheart," he said, huskily, trying
to steady his voice. " There ! Madame the countess
is waiting. All will be well now." He turned, smil
ing, toward the young countess, and lifted his hat,
then stepped back and fixed me with a blank look of
dismay, which said perfectly plainly that he had un
pleasant news to communicate. The countess, I think,
saw that look, too, for she gave me an almost imper
ceptible nod and took Jacqueline's hand in hers.

" If there are thorns in your feet we must find them,"
she said, sweetly. "Will you come, Jacqueline?"

"Yes, madame," said the child, with an adoring
smile at Speed, who bent and kissed her upturned face
as she passed.

They went into the house, the countess holding
Jacqueline's thorn-scratched hand, the cat following,
perfectly self-possessed, to the porch, where she halted
and sat down, surveying the landscape with dignified
indifference.

" Well," said I, turning to Speed, " what new deviltry
is going on in Paradise now?"

"Preparations for train- wrecking, I should say," he
replied, bluntly. " They are tinkering with the trestle.
Buckhurst's ragamuffins have just seized the railroad

332

TRECOURT GARDEN

station at Rose - Sainte - Anne, where the main line
crosses, you know, near the ravine at Lammerin. I
was sure there was something extraordinary going to
happen, so I went down to the river, hailed Jeanne
Rolland, the passeuse, and had her ferry me over to
Bois-Gilbert. Then I made for the telegraph, gave
the operator ten francs to let me work the keys, and
called up the arsenal at Lorient. But it was no use,
Scarlett, the governor of Lorient can't spare a soldier
— not a single gendarme. It seems that Uhlans have
been signalled north of Quimper, and Lorient is fran
tic, and the garrison is preparing to stand siege."

"You mean," I said, indignantly, "that they're not
going to try to catch Buckhurst and Mornac?"

"That's what I mean; they're scared as rabbits
over these rumors of Uhlans in the west and north."

"Well," said I, disgusted, "it appears to me that
Buckhurst is going to get off scot-free this time — and
Mornac, too! Did you know that Mornac was here?"

"Know it? I saw him an hour ago, marshalling a
new company of malcontents in the square — a bad lot,
Scarlett — deserters from Chanzy's army, from Bour-
baki, from Garibaldi — a hundred or more line soldiers,
dragoons without horses, francs-tireurs, Garibaldians,
even a Turco, from Heaven knows where — bad soldiers
who disgrace France — marauders, cowardly, skulking
mobiles — a sweet lot, Scarlett, to be let loose in Madame
de Vassart's vicinity."

"I think so, too," I said, seriously.

" And I earnestly agree with you," muttered Speed.
"That's all I have to report, except that your friend,
Robert the Lizard, is out yonder flat on his belly under
a gorse-bush, and he wants to see you."

"The Lizard!" I exclaimed. "Come on, Speed.
Where is he?"

" Yonder, clothed in somebody's line uniform. He's

333

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

one of them. Scarlett, do you trust him? He has a
rifle."

"Yes, yes/' I said, impatiently. "Come on, man!
It's all right ; the fellow is watching Buckhurst for me."
And I gave Speed a nervous push toward the moors.
We started, Speed ostentatiously placing his revolver
in his side-pocket so that he could shoot through his
coat if necessary. I walked beside him, closely scan
ning the stretch of open moor for a sign of life, knowing
all the while that it is easier to catch moon-beams in a
net than to find a poacher in the bracken. But Speed
had marked him down as he might mark a squatting
quail, and suddenly we flushed him, rifle clapped to
his shoulder.

"None of that, my friend," growled Speed; but the
poacher at sight of me had already lowered the weapon.

I greeted him frankly, offering my hand ; he took it,
then his hard fist fell away and he touched his cap.

"I have done what you wanted," he said, sullenly.
"I have the company's rolls — here they are." He
dragged from his baggy trousers pockets a mass of
filthy papers, closely covered with smeared writing.
" Here is the money, too," he said, fishing in the other
pocket; and, to my astonishment, he produced a flat
tened, soiled mass of bank-notes. "Count it," he
added, calmly.

" What money is that?" I asked, taking it reluctantly.

" Didn't you warn me to get that box — the steel box
that Tric-Trac sat down on when he saw me?"

"Is that money from the box?" I exclaimed.

" Yes, m'sieu. I could not bring the box, and there
had been enough blood shed over it already. Besides,
when Buckhurst broke it open there was only a bit of
iron for the scrap-heap left."

I touched Speed's arm to call his attention ; the poach
er shrugged his shoulders and continued : " Tric-Trac

334

TRECOURT GARDEN

made no ceremony with me; he told me that he and
Buckhurst had settled this Dr. Delmont, and the other
— the professor — Ta vernier. ' '

"Murdered them?" muttered Speed.

"Dame! — the coup du Pere Francois is murder, I
suppose."

Speed turned to me. "That's the argot for stran
gling," he said, grimly.

"Go on," I motioned to the poacher. "How did
you get the money?"

"Oh, pour ca — in my turn I turned sonneur," he
replied, with a savage smile.

A sonneur, in thieves' slang, is a creature of the
footpad type who, tripping his victim flat, seizes him
by the shoulders and beats his head against the pave
ment until he renders him unconscious — if he doesn't
kill him.

"It was pay-day," continued the Lizard. "Buck-
hurst opened the box and I heard him — he hammered it
open with a cold chisel. I was standing guard on the
forest's edge; I crept back, hearing the hammering
and the little bell ringing the Angelus of Tric-Trac.
It was close to dusk; by the time he got into the box
it was dark in the woods, and it was easy to jump on
his back and strike — not very hard, m'sieu — but, I
tell you, Buckhurst lay for two days with eyes like a
sick owl's ! He knew one of his own men had done it.
He never said a word, but I know he thinks it was
Tric-Trac. . . . And when he is ready — bon soir, Tric-
Trac!"

He drew his right hand across his corded throat with
a horridly suggestive motion. Speed watched him
narrowly.

I asked the poacher why Buckhurst had come to
Paradise, and why his banditti had seized the railroad
at Rose-Sainte-Anne.

335

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Ah," cried the Lizard, with a ferocious leer, "that
is the kernel under the limpet's tent! And I have
uncovered it — I, Robert Garenne, bon sang de Jesu!"

He stretched out his powerful arm toward the sea.
"Where is that cruiser, m'sieu? Gone? Yes, but
who sent her off? Buckhurst, with his new signal-
book! Where? In chase of a sea-swallow, or a frigate
(bird). Who knows? Listen, messieurs! We are to
wreck the train for Brest to-night. Do you compre
hend?"

"Where?" I asked, quietly.

"Just where the trestle at Lammerin crosses the
ravine below the house of Josephine Tanguy."

Speed looked around at me. " It's the treasure-train
from Lorient. They're probably sending the crown
diamonds back to Brest in view of the Uhlans being
seen near Quimper."

"On a false order?"

"I believe so. I believe that Buckhurst sent the
cruiser to Brest, and now he's started the treasure-
trains back to Brest in a panic."

"That is the truth," said the Lizard; "Tric-Trac
told me. They have the code-book of Mornac." His
eyes began to light up with that terrible anger as the
name of his blood enemy fell from his lips; his nose
twitched ; his upper lip wrinkled into a snarl.

I thought quietly for a moment, then asked the
poacher whether there was a guard at the semaphore
of Saint-Yssel.

" Yes, the soldier Rolland, who says he understands
the telegraph — a sot from Morlaix." He hesitated
and looked across the open moor toward Paradise.
"I must go," he muttered; "I am on guard yonder."

I offered him my hand again ; he took it, looking me
sincerely in the eyes.

"Let your private wrongs wait a little longer," I
336

TRECOURT GARDEN

said. "I think we can catch Buckhurst and Mornac
alive. Do you promise?"

"Y-es," he replied.

"Strike, then, like a Breton!"

We struck palms heavily. Then he turned to Speed
and motioned him to retire.

Speed walked slowly toward a half-buried bowlder
and sat down out of ear- shot.

"For your sake/' said the poacher, clutching my
hand in a tightening grip — "for your sake I have let
Mornac go — let him pass me at arm's-length, and did
not strike. You have dealt openly by me — and justly.
No man can say I betrayed friendship. But I swear
to you that if you miss him this time, I shall not miss —
I, Robert the Lizard!"

"You mean to kill Mornac?" I asked.

His eyes blazed.

" Ami," he said, " I once spoke of ' a little red deer,'
and you half understood me, for you are wise in strange
ways, as I am."

"I remember," I said.

His strong fingers closed tighter on my hand.
"Woman — or doe — it's all one now; and I am out of
prison — the prison he sent me to! Do you understand
that he wronged me — me, the soldier Garenne, in gar
rison at Vincennes; he, the officer, the aristocrat?"

He choked, crushing my hand in a spasmodic grip.
"Ami, the little red deer was beautiful — to me. He
took her — the doe — a silly maid of Paradise — and I
was in irons, m'sieu, for three years."

He glared at vacancy, tears falling from his staring
eyes.

"Your wife?" I asked, quietly.

"Yes, ami."

He dropped my numbed fingers and rubbed his eyes
with the back of his big hand.

337

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Then Jacqueline is not your little daughter?" I
asked, gravely.

" Hers — not mine. That has been the most terrible
of all for me — since she died — died so young, too, m'sieu
— and all alone — in Paris. If he had not done that —
if he had been kind to her. And she was only a child,
ami, yet he left her."

All the ferocity in his eyes was gone; he raised a
vacant, grief -lined visage to meet mine, and stood
stupidly, heavy hands hanging.

Then, shoulders sloping, he shambled off into the
thicket, trailing his battered rifle.

When he was very far away I motioned to Speed.

" I think," said I, " that we had better try to do some
thing at the semaphore if we are going to stop that
train in time."

XX

THE SEMAPHORE

THE telegraph station at the semaphore was a
little, square, stone hut, roofed with slate, perched
high on the cliffs. A sun-scorched, wooden signal-
tower rose in front of it ; behind it a line of telegraph
poles stretched away into perspective across the moors.
Beyond the horizon somewhere lay the war-port of
Lorient, with its arsenal, armed redoubts, and heavy
bastions; beyond that was war.

While we plodded on, hip deep, through gorse and
thorn and heath, we cautiously watched a spot of red
moving to and fro in front of the station; and as we
drew nearer we could see the sentry very distinctly,
rifle slung muzzle down, slouching his beat in the
sunshine.

He was a slovenly specimen, doubtless a deserter
from one of the three provincial armies now forming
for the hopeless dash at Belfort and the German eastern
communications.

When Speed and I emerged from the golden gorse
into plain view the sentinel stopped in his tracks,
shoved his big, red hands into his trousers pockets,
and regarded us sulkily.

"What are you going to do with this gentleman?"
whispered Speed.

"Reason with him, first," I said; "a louis is worth
a dozen kicks."

339

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The soldier left his post as we started toward him,
and advanced, blinking in the strong sunshine, meeting
us half-way.

"Now, bourgeois," he said, shaking his unkempt
head, "this won't do, you know. Orders are to keep
off. And," he added, in a bantering tone, "I'm here
to enforce them. Aliens! En route, mes amis!"

"Are you the soldier Holland?" I asked.

He admitted that he was with prompt profanity,
adding that if we didn't like his name we had only to
tell him so and he would arrange the matter.

I told him that we approved not only his name but
his personal appearance; indeed, so great was our ad
miration for him that we had come clear across the
Saint -Yssel moor expressly to pay our compliments
to him in the shape of a hundred-franc note. I drew
it from the soiled roll the Lizard had intrusted to me,
and displayed it for the sentinel's inspection.

"Is that for me?" he demanded, unconvinced, plain
ly suspicious of being ridiculed.

"Under certain conditions," I said, "these five louis
are for you."

The soldier winked. "I know what you want; you
want to go in yonder and use the telegraph. What
the devil," he burst out, "do all you bourgeois want
with that telegraph in there?"

"Has anybody else asked to use it?" I inquired,
disturbed.

"Anybody else?" he mimicked. "Well, I think so ;
there's somebody in there now — here, give your hun
dred francs or I tell you nothing, you understand!"

I handed him the soiled note. He scanned it with
the inborn distrust of the true malefactor, turned it
over and over, and finally, pronouncing it " en r£gle,"
shoved it cheerfully into the lining of his red forage
cap.

340

THE SEMAPHORE

" A hundred more if you answer my questions truth
fully/' I said, amiably.

" 'Cre cochon!" he blurted out; "fire at will, com
rade! I'll sell you the whole cursed semaphore for a
hundred more! What can I do for you, captain?"

" Who is in that hut?"

"A lady — she comes often — she gives ten francs
each time. Zut! — what is ten francs when a gentle
man gives a hundred! She pays me for my complai
sance — bon! Place aux dames! You pay me better —
bon! I'm yours, gentlemen. War is war, but money
pulls the trigger!"

The miserable creature cocked his forage-cap with a
toothless smirk and twisted his scant mustache.

" Who is this lady who pays you ten francs?" I asked.

" I do not know her name — but," he added, with an
offensive leer, " she's worth looking over by gentlemen
like you. Do you want to see her? She's in there
click-clicking away on the key with her pretty little
fingers — bon sang! A morsel for a king, gentlemen."

"Wait here," I said, disgusted, and walked toward
the stone station. The treacherous cur came running
after me. "There's a side door," he whispered; "step
in there behind the partition and take a look at her.
She'll be done directly: she never stays more than
fifteen minutes. Then you can use the telegraph at
your pleasure, captain."

The side door was partly open; I stepped in noise
lessly and found myself in a small, dusky closet, par
titioned from the telegraph office. Immediately the
rapid clicking of the Morse instrument came to my
ears, and mechanically I read the message by the
sound as it rattled on under the fingers of an expert :

" — Must have already found out that the signals
were not authorized by the government. Before the
Fer-de-Lance returns to her station the German cruiser

341

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

ought to intercept her off Groix. Did you arrange for
this?"

There was a moment's silence, then back came rat
tling the reply in the Morse code, but in German :

"Yes, all is arranged. The Augusta took a French
merchant vessel off Pont Aven yesterday. The Au
gusta ought to pass Groix this evening. You are to
burn three white lights from Point Paradise if a land
ing-party is needed. It rests with you entirely."

Another silence, then the operator in the next room
began:

" You say that Lorient is alarmed by rumors of Uh
lans, and therefore sends the treasure-train back to Brest.
The train, you assure me, carries the diamonds of the
crown, bar-silver, gold, the Venus of Milo, and ten battle-
flags from the Invalides. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

" The insurgents here, under an individual in our pay,
one John Buckhurst, are preparing to wreck the train
at the Lammerin trestle.

" If the Augusta can reach Point Paradise to-night,
a landing-party could easily scatter these insurgents,
seize the treasures, and re-embark in safety.

" There is, you declare, nothing to fear from Lorient ;
the only thing, then, to be dreaded is the appearance
of the Fer-de-Lance off Groix. She is not now in sight ;
I will notify you if she appears. If she does not come
I will burn three white lights in triangle on Paradise
headland."

A short pause, then :

"Are there any Prussian cavalry near enough to
help us?"

And the answer:

" Prussian dragoons are scouting toward Bannalec.
I will send a messenger to them if I can. This is all.
Be careful. Good-bye."

342

THE SEMAPHORE

"Good-bye," clicked the instrument in the next
room. There was a rustle of skirts, a tap of small
shoes on the stone floor. I leaned forward and looked
through the little partition window ; Sylvia Elven stood
by the table, quietly drawing on her gloves. Her face
was flushed and thoughtful.

Slowly she walked toward the door, hesitated, turn
ed, hurried back to the instrument, and set the switch.
Then, without seating herself, she leaned over and gave
the station call, three S's.

" I forgot to say that the two Yankee officers of mili
tary police, Scarlett and Speed, are a harmless pair.
You have nothing to fear from them. Good-bye."

And the reply :

"Watch them all the same. Be careful, madame,
they are Yankees. Good-bye."

When she had gone, closing the outer door behind
her, I sprang to the ke}^, switched on, rattled out the
three S's and got my man, probably before he had
taken three steps from his table.

"I forgot to say," I telegraphed, using a light, rapid
touch to imitate Sylvia's — "I forgot to say that, in
case the treasure-train is held back to-night, the Au
gusta must run for the English Channel."

" What's that?" came back the jerky reply.

I repeated.

"Donnerwetter!" rattled the wires. "The entire
French iron-clad fleet is looking for her."

" And I hope they catch her," I telegraphed.

"Are you crazy?" came the frantic reply. "Who
are you?"

"A Yankee, idiot!" I replied. "Run for your life,
you hopeless ass!"

There was, of course, no reply, though I sent a few
jocular remarks flying after what must have been the
most horrified German spy south of Metz.

343

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Then, at a venture, I set the switch on the arsenal
line, got a quick reply, and succeeded in alarming
them sufficiently, I think, for in a few moments I was
telegraphing directly to the governor of Lorient, and
the wires grew hot with an interchange of observa
tions, which resulted in my running to the locker,
tumbling out all the signal bunting, cones, and balls,
sorting five flags, two red cones, and a ball, and has
tening out to the semaphore.

Speed and the soldier Holland saw me set the cones,
hoist away, break out the flags on the halyards, and
finally drop the white arm of the semaphore.

I had set the signal for the Fer-de-Lance to land in
force and wipe Buckhurst and his grotesque crew from
the face of the earth.

"Holland," I said, "here is another hundred francs.
Watch that halyard and guard it. To-night you will
string seven of those little lamps on this other halyard,
light them, hoist them, and then go up that tower and
light the three red lamps on the left."

" 'Tendu," he said, promptly.

"If you do it I will give you two hundred francs
to-morrow. Is it a bargain?"

The soldier broke out into a torrent of promises which
I cut short.

" That lady will never come here again, I think. If
she does, she must not touch those halyards. Do
you hear? If she offers you money, remember I will
double it. But, Holland, if you lie to me I will have
you killed as the Bretons kill pigs; you understand
how that is done?"

He said that he understood, and followed us, fawn
ing and whining his cow^ardly promises of fidelity
until we ordered the wretch back to the post which he
had already twice betrayed, and would certainly be
tray again if the opportunity offered.

344

THE SEMAPHORE

Walking fast over the springy heath, I told Speed
briefly what I had done — that the treasure-train would
not now leave Lorient, that as soon as the Fer-de-
Lance came in sight of the semaphore Buckhurst's
game must come to an end.

Far ahead of us we saw the flutter of a light dress on
the moor; Sylvia Elven, the spy, was going home;
and from the distance, across the yellow - flowered
gorse, her gay song floated back to us :

" Those who die for a maid

Are paid;
Those who die for a creed

God-speed ;

Those who die for their own dear land
Shall stand forever on God's right hand I — "

"A spy!" muttered Speed.

"I think," said I, "that she had better leave Para
dise at once. Oh, the little fool, to risk all for a caprice
— for a word to the poor fellow she ruined! Vanity
does it every time, Speed."

"I don't understand what you mean," he said.

"No, and I can't explain," I replied, thinking of
Kelly Eyre. " But Sylvia Elven is running a fearful
risk here. Mornac knows her record. Buckhurst
would betray her in a moment if he thought it might
save his own skin. She ought to leave before the
Fer-de-Lance sights the semaphore and reads the sig
nal to land in force."

"Then you'll have to tell her," he said, gloomily.

"I suppose so," I replied, not at all pleased. For
the prospect of humiliating her, of proving to this
woman that I was not as stupid as she believed me, gave
me no pleasure. Rather was I sorry for her, sorry
for the truly pitiable condition in which she must now
find herself.

345

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

As we reached the gates of Tr6court, dusty and
tired from our moorland tramp, I turned and looked
back. My signal was still set; the white arm of
the semaphore glistened like silver against a brilliant
sky of sapphire. Seaward I could see no sign of the
Fer-de-Lance.

" The guns I heard at sea must have been fired from
the German cruiser Augusta," I suggested to Speed.

"She's been hovering off the coast, catching French
merchant craft. I wish to goodness the Fer-de-Lance
would come in and give her a drubbing."

"Oh, rubbish!" he said. "What the deuce do we
care?"

"It's human to take sides in this war, isn't it?" I
insisted.

" Considering the fashion in which France has treated
us individually, it seems to me that we may as well
take the German side," he said.

"Are you going to?" I asked.

He hesitated. "Oh, hang it all, no! There's some
thing about France that holds us poor devils — I don't
know what. Barring England, she's the only human
nation in the whole snarling pack. Here's to her —
damn her impudence! If she wants me she can have
me — empire, kingdom, or republic. Vive anything —
as long as it's French!"

I was laughing when we entered the court; Jacque
line, her big, furry cat in her arms, came to the door
and greeted Speed with :

"You have been away a very long time, and the
thorns are all out of my arms and my legs, and I have
been desiring to see you. Come into the house and
read — shall we?"

Speed turned to me with an explanatory smile. " I've
been reading the ' Idyls ' aloud to her in English/' he
said, rather shyly. " She seems to like them ; it's the

346

THE SEMAPHORE

noble music that attracts her; she can't understand
ten words."

"I can understand nearly twenty/' she said, flush
ing painfully.

Speed, who had no thought of hurting her, colored
up, too.

" You don't comprehend, little one," he said, quickly.
"It was in praise, not in blame, that I spoke."

"I knew it — I am silly," she said, with quick tears
trembling in her eyes. " You know I adore you, Speed.
Forgive me."

She turned away into the house, saying that she
would get the book.

"Look here, Speed," I said, troubled, "Jacqueline
is very much like the traditional maid of romance,
which I never believed existed — all unspoiled, frankly
human, innocently daring, utterly ignorant of con
vention. She's only a child now, but another year or
two will bring something else to her."

" Don't you suppose I've thought of that?" he said,
frowning.

"I hope you have."

"Well, I have. When I find enough to do to keep
soul and body friendly I'm going to send her to school,
if that old ruffian, her father, allows it."

"I think he will," I said, gravely; "but after that?"

"After what?"

"After she's educated and — unhappy?"

"She isn't any too happy now," he retorted.

" Granted. But after you have spent all your money
on her, what then?"

"What do you mean?"

" I mean that you'll have no child to deal with, but
a woman in full bloom, a woman fairly aquiver with
life and intelligence, a high-strung, sensitive, fine
grained creature, whose educated ignorance will not

347

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

be educated innocence, remember thatl And I tell
you, Speed, it's the heaviest responsibility a man can
assume."

"I know it," he replied.

" Then it's all right, if you do know it," I said, cheer
fully. "All I can say is, I am thankful she isn't to
spend her life in the circus."

" Or meet death there," he added. " It's not to our
credit that she escapes it."

Jacqueline came dancing back to the porch, cat
under one arm, book under the other, so frankly happy,
so charmingly grateful for Speed's society, that the
tragedy of the lonely child touched me very deeply.
I strove to discover any trace of the bar sinister in her,
but could not, though now I understood, from her par
entage, how it was possible for a poacher's child to
have such finely sculptured hands and feet. Perhaps
her dark, silky lashes and hair were Mornac's, but if this
was so, I trusted that there the aristocratic blood had
spent its force in the frail body of this child of chance.

I went into the house, leaving them seated on the
porch, heads together, while in a low monotone Speed
read the deathless " Morte d'Arthur."

Daylight was waning.

Out of the west a clear, greenish sky, tinged with
saffron tints, promised a sea-wind. But the mild land-
breeze was still blowing and the ebb-tide flowing as I
entered the corridor and glanced at the corner where
the spinning-wheel stood. Sylvia sat beside it, read
ing in the Lutheran Bible by the failing light.

She raised her dreamy eyes as I passed ; I had never
seen her piquantly expressive face so grave.

" May I speak to you alone a moment, after dinner?"
I asked.

"If you wish," she replied.

I bowed and started on, but she called me back.
348

THE SEMAPHORE

"Did you know that Monsieur Eyre is here?'*

"Kelly Eyre?"

"Oui, monsieur. He returns with an order from
the governor of Lorient for the balloon."

I was astonished, and asked where Eyre had gone.

"He is in your room," she said, "loading your re
volver. I hope you will not permit him to go alone to
Paradise."

" I'll see about that," I muttered, and hurried up the
stairs and down the hallway to my bedchamber.

He sprang to the door as I entered, giving me both
hands in boyish greeting, saying how delighted they
all were to know that my injury had proved so
slight.

"That balloon robbery worried me," he continued.
" I knew that Speed depended on his balloon for a liv
ing ; so as soon as we entered Lorient I went to our con
sul, and he and I made such a row that the governor of
Lorient gave me an order for the balloon. Here it is,
Mr. Scarlett."

His heightened color and excitement, his nervous
impetuosity, were not characteristic of this quiet and
rather indifferent young countryman of mine.

I looked at him keenly but pleasantly.

" You are going to load my revolver, and go over to
Paradise and take that balloon from these bandits?"
I asked, smiling.

" An order is all right, but it is the more formal when
backed by a bullet," he said.

" Do you mean to tell me that you were preparing to
go over into that hornet's nest alone?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a reckless laugh.

"Give me my revolver," I said, coldly.

His face fell. "Let me take it, Mr. Scarlett/' he
pleaded; but I refused, and made him hand me the
weapon.

349

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"Now/' I said, sternly, "I want to know what the
devil you mean by attempting suicide? Do you sup
pose that those ruffians care a straw for you and your
order? Kelly, what's the matter with you? Is life
as unattractive as all that?"

His flushed and sullen face darkened.

"If you want to risk your life," I said, "you have
plenty of chances in your profession. Did you ever
hear of an aged aeronaut? Kelly, go back to America
and break your neck like a gentleman."

He darted a menacing glance at me, but there was
nothing of irony in my sober visage.

"You appear here," I said, "after the others have
sailed from Lorient. Why? To do Speed this gen
erous favor? Yes — and to do yourself the pleasure
of ending an embittered life under the eyes of the
woman who ruined you."

The boy flinched as though I had struck him in the
face. For a moment I expected a blow; his hands
clinched convulsively, and he focussed me with blaz
ing eyes.

"Don't," I said, quietly. "I am trying to be your
friend; I am trying to save you from yourself, Kelly.
Don't throw away your life — as I have done. Life is
a good thing, Kelly, a good thing. Can we not be
friends though I tell you the truth?"

The color throbbed and throbbed in his face. There
was a chair near him; he groped for it, and sat down
heavily.

"Life is a good thing," I said again, "but, Kelly,
truth is better. And I must tell you the — well, some
thing of the truth — as much as you need know . . .
now. My friend, she is not worth it."

"Do you think that makes any difference?" he said,
harshly. "Let me alone, Scarlett. I know! . . . /
know, I tell you!"

350

THE SEMAPHORE

" Do you mean to tell me that you know she deliber
ately betrayed you?" I demanded.

" Yes, I know it — I tell you I know it!"

"And . . . you love her?"

" Yes." He dropped his haggard face on his arms a
moment, then sat bolt upright. " Truth is better than
life," he said, slowly. "I lied to you and to myself
when I came back. I did come to get Speed's balloon,
but I came . . . for her sake, ... to be near her, . . .
to see her once more before I — "

"Yes, I understand, Kelly."

He winced and leaned wearily back.

" You are right/' he said ; " I wanted to end it, ...
I am tired."

I sat thinking for a moment; the light in the room
faded to a glimmer on the panes.

"Kelly," I said, "there remains another way to risk
your neck, and, I think, a nobler way. There is in
this house a woman who is running a terrible risk — a
German spy whose operations have been discovered.
This woman believes that she has in her pay the com
munist leader of the revolt, a man called Buckhurst.
She is in error. And she must leave this house to
night."

Eyre's face had paled. He bent forward, clasped
hands between his knees, eyes fastened on me.

" There will be trouble here to-night — or, in all prob
ability, within the next twenty-four hours. I expect
to see Buckhurst a prisoner. And when that happens
it will go hard with Mademoiselle Elven, for he will
turn on her to save himself. . . . And you know what
that means; ... a blank wall, Kelly, and a firing-squad.
There is but one sex for spies."

A deadly fear was stamped on his bloodless face. I
saw it, tense and quivering, in the gray light of the
window.

351

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"She must leave to-night, Kelly. She must try to
cross into Spain. Will you help her?"

He nodded, striving to say "yes."

"You know your own risk?"

"Yes."

"Her company is death for you both if you are
taken."

He stood up very straight. In what strange forms
comes happiness to man!

XXI

LIKE HER ANCESTORS

A SENSE of insecurity, of impending trouble, seem
ed to weigh upon us all that evening — a physical
depression, which the sea-wind brought with its flying
scud, wetting the window-panes like fine rain.

At intervals from across the moors came the dead
ened rolling of insurgent drums, and in the sky a
ruddy reflection of a fire brightened and waned as the
fog thickened or blew inland — an ominous sign of dis
order, possibly even a reflection from that unseen war
raging somewhere beyond the obscured horizon.

It may have been this indefinable foreboding that
drew our little company into a temporary intimacy;
it may have been the immense loneliness of the sea,
thundering in thickening darkness, that stilled our
voices to whispers.

Eyre, ill at ease, walked from window to window,
looking at the luminous tints on the ragged edges of
the clouds; Sylvia, over her heavy embroidery, lifted
her head gravely at moments, to glance after him when
he halted listless, preoccupied, staring at Speed and
Jacqueline, who were drawing pictures of Arthur and
his knights by the lamp-lit table.

I leaned in the embrasure of the southern window,

gazing at my lighted lanterns, which dangled from the

halyards at Saint -Yssel. The soldier Holland had so

far kept his word — three red lamps glimmered through

*3 353

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

a driving mist ; the white lanterns hung above, faintly
shining.

Full in the firelight of the room sat the young Count
ess, lost in reverie, hands clasping the gilt arms of her
chair. At her feet dozed Ange Pitou.

The dignity of a parvenu cat admitted for the first
time to unknown luxury is a lesson. I said this to
the young Countess, who smiled dreamily, watching
the play of color over the drift-wood fire. A ship's
plank was burning there, tufted with golden -green
flames. Presently a blaze of purest carmine threw a
deeper light into the room.

"I wonder," she said, "what people sailed in that
ship — and when? Did they perish on this coast when
their ship perished? A drift-wood fire is beautiful,
but a little sad, too." She looked up pensively over
her shoulder. " Will you bring a chair to the fire?" she
asked. "We are burning part of a great ship — for
our pleasure, monsieur. Tell me what ship it was;
tell me a story to amuse me — not a melancholy one,
if you please."

I drew a chair to the blaze; the drift-wood burned
gold and violet, with scarcely a whisper of its velvet
flames.

" I am afraid my story is not going to be very cheer
ful," I said, "and I am also afraid that I must ask you
to listen to it."

She met my eyes with composure, leaned a little
toward me, and waited.

And so, sitting there in the tinted glare, I told her
of the death of Delmont and of Ta vernier, and of Buck-
hurst's share in the miserable work.

I spoke in a whisper scarcely louder than the rustle
of the flames, watching the horror growing in her
face.

I told her that the money she had intrusted to them
354

LIKE HER ANCESTORS

for the Red Cross was in my possession, and would be
forwarded at the first chance; that I hoped to bring
Buckhurst to justice that very night.

"Madame, I am paining you/' I said; "but I am
going to cause you even greater unhappiness. "

"Tell me what is necessary," she said, forming the
words with tightened lips.

" Then I must tell you that it is necessary for Mad
emoiselle Elven to leave Trecourt to-night."

She looked at me as though she had not heard.

" It is absolutely necessary," I repeated. " She must
go secretly. She must leave her effects; she must go
in peasant's dress, on foot."

"Why?"

"It is better that I do not tell you, madame."

"Tell me. It is my right to know."

"Not now; later, if you insist."
'\The young Countess passed one hand over her eyes
as though dazed.

"Does Sylvia know this?" she asked, in a shocked
voice.

"Not yet."

"And you are going to tell her?"

"Yes, madame."

"This is dreadful," she muttered. ... "If I did
not know you, ... if I did not trust you so perfect
ly, ... trust you with all my heart! . . . Oh, are
you certain she must go? It frightens me; it is so
strange! I have grown fond of her. . . . And now
you say that she must go. I cannot understand — I
cannot."

" No, you cannot understand/' I repeated, gently ;
" but she can. It is a serious matter for Mademoiselle
Elven; it could not easily be more serious. It is even
perhaps a question of life or death, madame."

"In Heaven's name, help her, then!" she said, scarce-
355

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

ly controlling the alarm that brought a pitiful break in
her voice.

" I am trying to," I said. " And now I must consult
Mademoiselle Elven. Will you help me?"

"What can I do?" she asked, piteously.

"Stand by that window. Look, madame, can you
see the lights on the semaphore?"

"Yes."

"Count them aloud."

She counted the white lights for me, then the red
ones.

"Now," I said, "if those lights change in number
or color or position, come instantly to me. I shall
be with Mademoiselle Elven in the little tea-room.
But," I added, "I do not expect any change in the
lights; it is only. a precaution."

I left her in the shadow of the curtains, and passed
through the room to Sylvia's side. She looked up
quietly from her embroidery frame, then, dropping
the tinted silks and needles on the cloth, rose and walked
beside me past Eyre, who stood up as we came abreast
of him.

Sylvia paused. "Monsieur Eyre," she said, "I
have a question to ask you . . . some day/; and
passed on with a smile and a slight inclination of her
head, leaving Eyre looking after her with heavy eyes.

When we entered the little tea-room she passed on
to the lounge and seated herself on the padded arm ;
I turned, closed the door, and walked straight toward
her.

She glanced up at me curiously; something in my
face appeared to sober her, for the amused smile on her
lips faded before I spoke.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I am sorry to tell you," I said — "sorry from my
heart. You are not very friendly to me, and that

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makes it harder for me to say what I have to
say."

She was watching me intently out of her pretty, in
telligent eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked, guardedly.

"I mean that you cannot stay here," I said. "And
you know why."

The color flooded her face, and she stood up, con
fronting me, exasperated, defiant.

"Will you explain this insult?" she asked, hotly.

"Yes. You are a German spy," I said, under my
breath.

There was no color in her face now — nothing but
a glitter in her blue eyes and a glint from the small,
white teeth biting her lower lip.

" French troops will land here to-night or to-morrow,"
I went on, calmly. " You will see how dangerous your
situation is certain to become when Buckhurst is taken,
and when it is understood what use you have made of
the semaphore."

She winced, then straightened and bent her steady
gaze on me. Her courage was admirable.

" I thank you for telling me," she said, simply. " Have
I a chance to reach the Spanish frontier?"

" I think you have," I replied. " Kelly Eyre is going
with you when — "

"He? No, no, he must not! Does he know what I
am?" she broke in, impetuously.

"Yes, mademoiselle; and he knows what happens
to spies."

"Did he offer to go?" she asked, incredulously.

"Mademoiselle, he insists."

Her lip began to tremble. She turned toward the
window, where the sea-fog flew past in the rising wind,
and stared out across the immeasurable blackness of
the ocean.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Without turning her head she said : " Does he know
that it may mean his death?"

"He has suffered worse for your sake!" I said, bit
terly.

"What?" she flashed out, confronting me in an
instant.

"You must know that/' I said — "three years of
hell — prison — utter ruin ! Do you dare deny you have
been ignorant of this?"

For a space she stood there, struck speechless ; then,
"Call him!" she cried. "Call him, I tell you! Bring
him here — I want him here — here before us both!"
She sprang to the door, but I blocked her way.

" I will not have Madame de Vassart know what you
did to him!" I said. "If you want Kelly Eyre, I will
call him." And I stepped into the hallway.

Eyre, passing the long stone corridor, looked up as
I beckoned ; and when he entered the tea-room, Sylvia,
white as a ghost, met him face to face.

"Monsieur," she said, harshly, "why did you not
come to that book-store?"

He was silent. His face was answer enough — a ter
rible answer.

" Monsieur Eyre, speak to me ! Is it true ? Did
they — did you not know that I made an error — that I
did go on Monday at the same hour?"

His haggard face lighted up ; she saw it, and caught
his hands in hers.

" Did you think I knew?" she stammered. " Did you
think I could do that? They told me at the usine
that you had gone away — I thought you had forgotten
— that you did not care — "

"Care!" he groaned, and bowed his head, crushing
her hands over his face.

Then she broke down, breathless with terror and
grief.

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"I was not a spy then — truly I was not, Kelly.
There was no harm in me — I only — only asked for the
sketches because — because — I cared for you. I have
them now; no soul save myself has ever seen them —
even afterward, when I drifted into intrigue at the
Embassy — when everybody knew that Bismarck meant
to force war — everybody except the French people —
I never showed those little sketches! They were —
were mine! Kelly, they were all I had left when you
went away — to a fortress! — and I did not know! — I did
not know!"

"Hush!" he groaned. "It is all right — it is all
right now."

"Do you believe me?"

"Yes, yes. Don't cry — don't be unhappy — now/'

She raised her head and fumbled in her corsage with
shaking fingers, and drew from her bosom a packet of
papers.

"Here are the sketches," she sobbed; "they have
cost you dear! Now leave me — hate me! Let them
come and take me — I do not want to live any more.
Oh, what punishment on earth!"

Her suffering was unendurable to the man who had
suffered through her; he turned on me, quivering in
every limb.

" We must start," he said, hoarsely. " Give me your
revolver."

I drew it from my hip-pocket and passed it to him.

"Scarlett," he began, "if we don't reach—"

A quick rapping at the door silenced him ; the young
Countess stood in the 'hall way, bright-eyed, but com
posed, asking for me.

"The red and the white lights are gone," she said.
"There are four green lights on the tower and four
blue lights on the halyards."

I turned to Eyre. "This is interesting," I said,
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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

grim! y. " I set signals for the Fer-de-Lance to land in
force. Somebody has changed them. You had better
get ready to go."

Sylvia had shrunk away from Eyre. The Countess
looked at her blankly, then at me.

"Madame," I said, "there is little enough of hap
piness in the world — so little that when it comes it
should be welcomed, even by those who may not share
in it."

And I bent nearer and whispered the truth.

Then I went to Sylvia, who stood there tremulous,
pallid.

"You serve your country at a greater risk than do
the soldiers of your King," I said. "There is no cour
age like that which discounts a sordid, unhonored
death. You have my respect, mademoiselle."

"Sylvia!" murmured the young Countess, incred
ulously; "you a spy? — here — under my roof?"

Sylvia unconsciously stretched out one hand toward
her.

Eyre stepped to her side, with an angry glance at
Madame de Vassart.

"I — I love you, madame," whispered Sylvia. "I
only place my own country first. Can you forgive
me?"

The Countess stood as though stunned ; Eyre passed
her slowly, supporting Sylvia to the door.

"Madame," I said, "will you speak to her? Your
countries, not your hearts, are at war. She did her
duty."

"A spy!" repeated the Countess, in a dull voice.
"A spy! And she brings this — this shame on me!"

Sylvia turned, standing unsteadily. For a long
time they looked at each other in silence, their eyes
wet with tears. Then Eyre lifted Sylvia's hand and
kissed it, and led her away, closing the door behind.

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The Countess still stood in the centre of the room,
transfixed, rigid, staring through her tears at the
closed door. With a deep-drawn breath she straight
ened her shoulders ; her head drooped ; she covered her
face with clasped hands.

Standing there, did she remember those who, one
by one, had betrayed her? Those who first whispered
to her that love of country was a narrow creed; those
who taught her to abhor violence, and then failed at
the test — Bazard, firing to kill, going down to death
under the merciless lance of an Uhlan; Buckhurst,
guilty of every crime that attracted him; and now
Sylvia, her friend, false to the salt she had eaten, false
to the roof above her, false, utterly false to all save
the land of Jier nativity.

And she, Eline de Tr6court, a soldier's daughter and
a Frenchwoman, had been used as a shield by those who
were striking her own mother-land — the country she
once had denied ; the country whose frontiers she knew
not in her zeal for limitless brotherhood; the black
ened, wasted country she had seen at Strasbourg ; the
land for which the cuirassiers of Morsbronn had died !

"What have I done?" she cried, brokenly — "what
have I done that this shame should come upon me?"

"You have done nothing," I said, "neither for good
nor evil in this crisis. But Sylvia has; Sylvia the
spy. That a man should give up his life for a friend
is good; that a woman offer hers for her country is
better. What has it cost her? The friendship of the
woman she worships — you, madame! It has cost her
that already, and the price may include her life and the
life of the man she loves. She has done her duty; the
sacrifice is still burning ; I pray it may spare her and
spare him."

I walked to the door and laid my hand on the brass
knob.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"The world is merciless to failures/' I said. "Yet
even a successful spy is scarcely tolerated among the
Philistines; a captured spy is a horror for friends to
forget and for enemies to destroy in righteous indig
nation. Madame, I know, for I have served your
country in Algiers as a spy, . . . not from patriotism,
for I am an alien, but because I was fitted for it in my
line of duty. Had I been caught I should have looked
for nothing but contempt from France ; from the Ka-
byle, for neither admiration nor mercy. I tell you
this that you may understand my respect for this
woman, whose motives are worthy of it."

The Countess looked at me scornfully. " It is well,"
she said, "for those who understand and tolerate
treachery to condone it. It is well that the accused
be judged by their peers. We of Tr£court know only
one tongue. But that is the language of truth, mon
sieur. All else is foreign."

"Where did the nobility learn this tongue — to our
exclusion?" I asked, bluntly.

"When our forefathers faced the tribunals!" she
flashed out. " Did you ever hear of a spy among us?
Did you ever hear of a lie among us?"

"You have been taught history by your peers,
madame," I said, with a bow; "I have been taught
history by mine."

"The sorry romance!" she said, bitterly. "It has
brought me to this!"

"It has brought others to their senses/' I said,
sharply.

"To their knees, you mean!"

"Yes — to their knees at last."

"To the guillotine — yes!"

" No, madame, to pray for their native land — too late! "

"I think," she said, "that we are not fitted to under
stand each other."

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"It remains," I said, "for me to thank you for your
kindness to us all, and for your generosity to me in
my time of need. ... It is quite useless- for me to
dream of repaying it. ... I shall never forget it. ...
I ask leave to make my adieux, madame."

She flushed to her temples, but did not answer.

As I stood looking at her, a vivid flare of light flashed
through the window behind me, crimsoning the walls,
playing over the ceiling with an infernal radiance.
At the same instant the gate outside crashed -open,
a hubbub of voices swelled into a roar; then the outer
doors were flung back and a score of men sprang into
the hallway, soldiers with the red torch-light dancing
on rifle-barrels and bayonets.

And before them, revolver swinging in his slender
hand, strode Buckhurst, a red sash tied across his
breast, his colorless eyes like diamonds.

Speed and Jacqueline came hurrying through the
hall to where I stood ; Buckhurst 's smite was awful as
his eyes flashed from Speed to me.

Behind him, close to his shoulder, the torch-light fell
on Mornac's smooth, false face, stretched now into a
ferocious grimace; behind him crowded the soldiers
of the commune, rifles slung, craning their unshaven
faces to catch a glimpse of us.

" Demi - battalion, halt!" shouted an officer, and
flung up his naked sabre.

"Halt," repeated Buckhurst, quietly.

Madame de Vassart's servants had come running
from kitchen and stable at the first alarm, and now
stood huddled in the court-yard, bewildered, cowed by
the bayonets which had checked them.

"Buckhurst," I said, "what the devil do you mean
by this foolery?" and I started for him, shouldering
my way among his grotesque escort.

For an instant I looked into his deadly eyes ; then he
363

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

silently motioned me back; a dozen bayonets were
levelled, forcing me to retire, inch by inch, until I felt
Speed's grip on my arm.

"That fellow means mischief/' he whispered.
"Have you a pistol?"

"I gave mine to Eyre," I said, under my breath.
"If he means us harm, don't resist or they may take
revenge on the Countess. Speed, keep her in the room
there! Don't let her come out."

But the Countess de Vassart was already in the hall,
facing Buckhurst with perfect composure.

Twice she ordered him to leave; he looked up from
his whispered consultation with Mornac and coolly mo
tioned her to be silent.

Once she spoke to Mornac, quietly demanding a
reason for the outrage, and Mornac silenced her with a
brutal gesture.

"Madame," I said, "it is I they want. I beg you
to retire."

" You are my guest," she said. " My place is here."

"Your place is where I please to put you!" broke
in Mornac; and to Buckhurst: "I tell you she's as
guilty as the others. Let me attend to this and make
a clean sweep!"

" Citizen Mornac will endeavor to restrain his zeal,"
observed Buckhurst, with a sneer. And then, as I
looked at this slender, pallid man, I understood who
was the dominant power behind the curtain; and so
did Speed, for I felt him press my elbow significantly.

He turned and addressed us, suavely, bowing with a
horrid, mock deference to the Countess :

"In the name of the commune! The ci-devant
Countess de Vassart is accused of sheltering the indi
vidual Scarlett, late inspector of Imperial Police; the
individual Speed, ex-inspector of Imperial Gendarmes;
the individual Eyre, under general suspicion; the

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LIKE HER ANCESTORS

woman called Sylvia Elven, a German spy. As war-
delegate of the commune, I am here to accuse!"

There was a silence, then a low, angry murmur from
the soldiers, which grew louder until Buckhurst turned
on them. He did not utter a word, but the sullen roar
died out, a bayonet rattled, then all was still in the
dancing torchlight.

"I accuse," continued Buckhurst, in a passionless
voice, " the individual Scarlett of treachery to the com
mune ; of using the telegraph for treacherous ends ; of
hoisting signals with the purpose of attracting govern
ment troops to destroy us. I accuse the individual
Speed of aiding his companion in using the telegraph
to stop the government train, thus depriving the com
mune of the funds which rightfully belong to it — the
treasures wrung from wretched peasants by the aristo
crats of an accursed monarchy and a thrice-accursed
empire!"

A roaring cheer burst from the excited soldiers,
drowning the voice of Buckhurst.

"Silence!" shouted Mornac, savagely. And as the
angry voices were stilled, one by one, above the bang
ing of rifle -stocks and the rattle of bayonets, Buck-
hurst's calm voice rose in a sinister monotone.

"I accuse the woman Sylvia Elven of communica
tion with Prussian agents; of attempted corruption of
soldiers under my command. I accuse the citoyenne
Eline Trecourt, lately known as the Countess de Vas-
sart, of aiding, encouraging, and abetting these ene
mies of France!"

He waited until the short, fierce yell of approval had
died away. Then:

"Call the soldier Rolland!" he said.

My heart began to hammer in my throat. "I be
lieve it's going hard with us," I muttered to Speed.

"Listen," he motioned.

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

I listened to the wretched creature Holland while he
told what had happened at the semaphore. In his
eagerness he pushed close to where I stood, menacing
me with every gesture, cursing and lashing himself
into a rage, ignoring all pretence of respect and disci
pline for his own superiors.

"What are you waiting for?" he shouted, inso
lently, turning on Buckhurst. "I tell the truth; and
if this man can afford to pay hundreds of francs for
a telegram, he must be rich enough to pluck, I tell
you!"

"You say he bribed you?" asked Buckhurst, gently.

"Yes; I've said it twenty times, haven't I?"

"And you took the bribes?"

"Parbleu!"

" And you thought if you admitted it and denounced
the man who bribed you that you would help divide a
few millions with us, you rogue?" suggested Buck
hurst, admiringly.

The wretch laughed outright.

"And you believe that you deserve well of the com
mune?" smiled Buckhurst.

The soldier grinned and opened his mouth to an
swer, and Buckhurst shot him through the face ; and,
as he fell, shot him again, standing wreathed in the
smoke of his own weapon.

The deafening racket of the revolver, the smoke, the
spectacle of the dusty, inert thing on the floor over
which Buckhurst stood and shot, seemed to stun
us all.

"I think," said Buckhurst, in a pleasantly per
suasive voice, "that there will be no more bribery in
this battalion." He deliberately opened the smoking
weapon; the spent shells dropped one by one from
the cylinder, clinking on the stone floor.

"No — no more bribery," he mused, touching the
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LIKE HER ANCESTORS

dead man with the carefully polished toe of his shoe.
" Because," he added, reloading his revolver, " I do not
like it."

He turned quietly to Mornac and ordered the corpse
to be buried, and Mornac, plainly unnerved at the
murderous act of his superior, repeated the order, curs
ing his men to cover the quaver in his voice.

"As for you," observed Buckhurst, glancing up at
us where we stood speechless together, "you will be
judged and sentenced when this drum-head court de
cides. Go into that room!"

The Countess did not move.

Speed touched her arm ; she looked up quietly, smiled,
and stepped across the threshold. Speed followed;
Jacqueline slipped in beside him, and then I turned on
Buckhurst, who had just ordered his soldiers to sur
round the house outside.

"As a matter of fact," I said, when the last armed
ruffian had departed, "I am the only person in this
house who has interfered with your affairs. The
others have done nothing to harm you."

"The court will decide that," he replied, balancing
his revolver in his palm.

I eyed him for an instant. " Do you mean harm to
this unfortunate woman?" I asked.

"My friend," he replied, in a low voice, "you have
very stupidly upset plans that have cost me months
to perfect. You have, by stopping that train, robbed
me of something less than twenty millions of francs.
I have my labor for my pains; I have this mob of
fools on my hands; I may lose my life through this
whim of yours; and if I don't, I have it all to begin
again. And you ask me what I am going to do!"

His eyes glittered.

"If I strike her I strike you. Ask yourself whether
or not I will strike."

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

All the blood seemed to leave my heart ; I straightened
up with an effort.

"There are some murders/' I said, "that even you
must recoil at."

"I don't think you appreciate me/' he replied, with
a deathly smile.

He motioned toward the door with levelled weapon.
I turned and entered the tea-room, and he locked the
door from the outside.

The Countess, seated on the sofa, looked up as I
appeared. She was terribly pale, but she smiled as
my heavy eyes met hers.

"Is it to be farce or tragedy, monsieur?" she asked,
without a tremor in her clear voice.

I could not have uttered a word to save my life. Speed,
pacing the room, turned to read my face; and I think
he read it, for he stopped short in his tracks. Jacqueline,
watching him with blue, inscrutable eyes, turned sharp
ly toward the window and peered out into the dark
ness.

Beyond the wall of the garden the fog, made luminous
by the torches of the insurgents, surrounded the house
with a circle of bright, ruddy vapor.

Speed came slowly across the room with me.

"Do they mean to shoot us?" he asked, bluntly.

"Messieurs," said the Countess, with a faint smile,
"your whispers are no compliment to my race. Pray
honor me by plain speaking. Are we to die?"

We stood absolutely speechless before her.

"Ah, Monsieur Scarlett," she said, gravely, "do
you also fail me ... at the end? . . . You, too —
even you? . . . Must I tell you that we of Trecourt
fear nothing in this world?"

She made a little gesture, exquisitely imperious.

I stepped toward her ; she waited for me to seat my
self beside her.

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LIKE HER ANCESTORS

"Are we to die?" she asked.

"Yes, madame."

" Thank you," she said, softly.

I looked up. My head was swimming so that I could
scarcely see her, scarcely perceive the deep, steady
tenderness in her clear eyes.

"Do you not understand?" she asked. "You are
my friend. I wished to know my fate from you."

"Madame," I said, hoarsely, "how can you call
me friend when you know to what I have brought
you?"

"You have brought me to know myself," she said,
simply. " Why should I not be grateful? Why do you
look at me so sadly, Monsieur Scarlett? Truly, you
must know that my life has been long enough to
prove its uselessness. "

"It is not true!" I cried, stung by remorse for all
I had said. "Such women as you are the hope of
France! Such women as you are the hope of the
world! Ah, that you should consider the bitterness
and folly of such a man as I am — that you should
consider and listen to the sorry wisdom of a homeless
mountebank — a wandering fool — a preacher of empty
platitudes, who has brought you to this with his cursed
meddling!"

"You taught me truth," she said, calmly; "you
make the last days of my life the only ones worth liv
ing. I said to you but an hour since — when I was
angry — that we were unfitted to comprehend each other.
It is not true. We are fitted for that. I had rather
die with you than live without the friendship which I
believe — which I know — is mine. Monsieur Scarlett,
it is not love. If it were, I could not say this to you
— even in death's presence. It is something better;
something untroubled, confident, serene. . . . You see
it is not love. . . . And perhaps it has no name. . . .
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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

For I have never before known such happiness, such
peace, as I know now, here with you, talking of our
death. If we could live, . . . you would go away. . . .
I should be alone. . . . And I have been alone all my
life, . , . and I am tired. You see I have nothing to
regret in a death that brings me to you again. . . .
Do you regret life?"

"Not now," I said.

" You are kind to say so. I do believe — yes, I know
that you truly care for me. ... Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then it will not be hard. . . . Perhaps not even
very painful."

The key turning in the door startled us. Buckhurst
entered, and through the hallway I saw his dishevelled
soldiers running, flinging open doors, tearing, tramp
ling, pillaging, wrecking everything in their path.

" Your business will be attended to in the garden at
dawn," he observed, blinking about the room, for the
bright lamp-light dazzled him.

Speed, who had been standing by the window with
Jacqueline, wheeled sharply, took a few steps into the
room, then sank into a chair, clasping his lank hands
between his knees.

The Countess did not even glance up as the sentence
was pronounced; she looked at me and laid her left
hand on mine, smiling, as though waiting for the mo
ment to resume an interrupted conversation.

"Do you hear?" demanded Buckhurst, raising his
voice.

There was no answer for a moment ; then Jacqueline
stepped from the window and said : "Am I free to go?"

"You!" said Buckhurst, contemptuously; "who in
hell are you?"

"I am Jacqueline."

" Really," sneered Buckhurst.
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He went away, slamming and locking the door ; and
I heard Mornac complaining that the signals had gone
out on the semaphore and that there was more treach
ery abroad.

"Get me a horse!" said Buckhurst. "There are
plenty of them in the stables. Mornac, you stay here;
I'll ride over to the semaphore. Gut this house and
fire it after you've finished that business in the garden
to-morrow morning,"

"Where are you going?" demanded Mornac's angry
voice. "Do you expect me to stay here while you
start for Paris?"

"You have your orders," said Buckhurst, menac
ingly.

"Oh, have I? What are they? To stay here when
the country is roused — stay here and perhaps be shelled
by that damned cruiser out there — "

His voice was stifled as though a hand had clutched
his throat ; there came the swift sound of a struggle, the
banging of scabbards and spurs, the scuffle of heavy
boots.

"Are you mad?" burst out Mornac's strangled voice.

"Are you?" breathed Buckhurst. "Silence, you
fool. Do you obey orders or not?"

Their voices receded. Speed sprang to the door to
listen, then ran back to the window.

"Scarlett," he whispered, "there are the lights of a
vessel at anchor off Groix."

I was beside him in an instant. " It's the cruiser,"
I said. "Oh, Speed, for a chance to signal!"

We looked at each other desperately.

"We could set the room afire," he said; "they might
land to see what had happened."

"And find us all shot."

Jacqueline, standing beside Speed, said, quieHy: "I
could swim it. Wait. Raise the window a little^"

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THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

"You cannot dive from that cliff!" I said.

She cautiously unlocked the window and peered out
into the dark garden.

"The cliff falls sheer from the wall yonder," she
whispered. "I shall try to drop. I learned much in
the circus. I am not afraid, Speed. I shall drop into
the sea."

"To your death," I said.

"Possibly, m'sieu. It is a good death, however.
I am not afraid."

"Close the window," muttered Speed. "They'd
shoot her from the wall, anyway."

Again the child gravely asked permission to try.

"No," said Speed, harshly, and turned away. But
in that instant Jacqueline flung open the window and
vaulted into the garden. Before I could realize what
had happened she was only a glimmering spot in the
darkness. Then Speed and I followed her, running
swiftly toward the foot of the garden, but we were too
late; a slim, white shape rose from the top of the wall
and leaped blindly out through the ruddy torch glare
into the blackness beyond.

We heard a soldier's startled cry, a commotion,
curses, and astonished exclamations from the other
side of the wall.

"It was something, I tell you!" roared a soldier.
"Something that jumped over the cliff!"

"It was an owl, idiot!" retorted his comrade.

"I tell you I saw it!" protested the other, in a shak
ing voice.

"Then you saw a witch of Ker-Ys," bawled another.
" Look out for your skin in the first battle. It's death
to see such things."

I looked at Speed. He stood wide-eyed, staring at
vacancy.

"Could she do it?" I asked, horrified.
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"God knows," he whispered.

Soldiers were beginning to clamber up the garden
wall from the outside; torches were raised to investi
gate. As we shrank back into the shadow of the
shrubbery I stumbled over something soft — Jacque
line's clothes, lying in a circle as she had stepped out
jOf them.

Speed took them. I followed him, creeping back to
the window, where we entered in time to avoid discov
ery by a wretch who had succeeded in mounting the
wall, torch in hand.

One or two soldiers climbed over and dropped into
the garden, prowling around, prodding the bushes
with their bayonets, even coming to press their dirty
faces and hands against our window.

"They're all here!" sang out one. "It was an owl,
I tell you!" And he menaced us with his rifle in
pantomime and retired, calling his companions to fol
low.

"Where is Jacqueline?" asked the Countess, looking
anxiously at the little blue skirt on Speed's knees.
"Have they harmed that child?"

I told her.

A beautiful light grew in her eyes as she listened.
"Did I not warn you that we Bretons know how to
die?" she said.

I looked dully at Speed, who sat by the window,
brooding over the little woollen skirt on his knees,
stroking it, touching the torn hem, and at last folding
it with unaccustomed and shaky hands.

There were noises outside our door, loud voices,
hammering, the sound of furniture being dragged over
stone floors, and I scarcely noticed it when our door
was opened again.

Then somebody called out our names ; a file of half-
drunken soldiers grounded arms in the passage-way

373

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

with a bang that brought us to our feet, as Mornac,
flushed with wine, entered unsteadily, drawn sword
in hand.

"I'm damned if I stay here any longer," he broke
out, angrily. "I'll see whether my rascals can't shoot
straight by torch-light. Here, you! Scarlett, I meanl
And you, Speed ; and you, too, madame ; patter your
prayers, for you'll get no priest. Lieutenant, withdraw
the guard at the wall. Here, captain, march the bat
talion back to Paradise and take the servants!"

A second later the drums began to beat, but Mornac,
furious, silenced them.

"They can hear you at sea!" he shouted. "Do you
want a boat-load of marines at your heels? Strikeout
those torches! Four will do for the garden. March!"

The shuffling tread of the insurgent infantry echoed
across the gravel court-yard ; torches behind the walls
were extinguished; blackness enveloped the cliffs.

"Well," broke out Speed, hoarsely, "good-bye, Scar
lett."

He held out his hand.

"Good-bye," I said, stunned.

I dropped my hand as two soldiers placed themselves
on either side of him.

"Well, good-bye," he repeated, aimlessly; and then,
remembering, he went to the Countess and offered his
hand.

" I am so sorry for you," she said, with a pallid smile.
" You have much to live for. But you must not feel
lonely, monsieur; you will be with us — we shall be
close to you."

She turned to me, and her hands fell to her side.

"Are you contented?" she asked.

" Yes," I answered.

" I, too," she said, sweetly, and offered her hands.

I held them very tightly. "You say," I whispered,
374

LIKE HER ANCESTORS

"that it is not — love. But you do not speak for me.
I love you."

A bright blush spread over brow and neck.

"So — it was love — after all/' she said, under her
breath. "God be with us to-day — I love you."

"March!" cried Mornac, as two soldiers took station
beside me.

"I beg you will be gentle with this lady/' I said,
angrily, as two more soldiers pushed up beside the
young Countess and laid their hands on her shoul
ders.

"Who the devil are you giving orders to?" shouted
Mornac, savagely. "March!"

Speed passed out first ; I followed ; the Countess came
behind me.

"Courage," I stammered, looking back at her as we
stumbled out into the torch-lit garden.

She smiled adorably. Her forefathers had mounted
the guillotine smiling.

Mornac pointed to the garden wall near the bench
where we had sat together. A soldier dressed like a
Turco lifted a torch and set it in the flower-bed under
the wall, illuminating the spot where we were to stand.
As this soldier turned to come back I saw his face.

" Salah Ben- Ahmed!" I cried, hoarsely. " Do Mara
bouts do this butcher's work?"

The Turco stared at me as though stunned.

"Salah Ben- Ahmed is a disgraced soldier!" I said,
in a ringing voice.

"It's a lie!" he shouted, in Arabic— "it's a lie, 0
my inspector! Speak! Have these men tricked me?
Are you not Prussians?"

"Silence! Silence!" bawled Mornac. "Turco, fall
in! Fall in, I say! What! You menace me?" he
snarled, cocking his revolver.

Then a man darted out of the red shadows of the
375

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

torch-light and fell upon Mornac with a knife, and
dragged him down and rolled on him, stabbing him
through and through, while the mutilated wretch
screamed and screamed until his soul struggled out
through the flame-shot darkness and fled to its last
dreadful abode.

The Lizard rose, shaking his fagot knife; they fell
upon him, clubbing and stabbing with stock and bayo
net, but he swung his smeared and sticky blade, clear
ing a circle around him. And I think he could have
cut his way free had not Tric-Trac shot him in the
back of the head.

Then a frightful tumult broke loose. Three of the
torches were knocked to the ground and trampled out
as the insurgents, doubly drunken with wine and the
taste of blood, seized me and tried to force me against
the wall ; but the Turco, with his shrill, wolf-like battle
yelp, attacked them, sabre - bayonet in hand. Speed,
too, had wrested a rifle from a half -stupefied ruffian,
and now stood at bay before the Countess ; I saw him
wielding his heavy weapon like a flail; then in the
darkness Tric-Trac shot at me, so close that the pow
der-flame scorched my leg. He dropped his rifle to
spring for my throat, knocking me flat, and, crouching
on me, strove to strangle me ; and I heard him whining
with eagerness while I twisted and writhed to free my
windpipe from his thin fingers.

At last I tore him from my body and struggled to
my feet. He, too, was on his legs with a bound, run
ning, doubling, dodging ; and at his heels I saw a
dozen sailors, broadaxes glittering, chasing him from
tree to shrub.

"Speed!" I shouted — "the sailors from the Fer-de-
Lance!"

The curtains of the house were on fire; through the
hallway poured the insurgent soldiery, stampeding

376

LIKE HER ANCESTORS

in frantic flight across the court out into the moors;
and the marines, swarming along the cliffs, shot at
them as they ran, and laughed savagely when a man
fell into the gorse, kicking like a wounded rabbit.

Speed marked their flight, advancing coolly, pistol
flashing ; the Turco. Ben- Ahmed, dark arms naked to
the shoulder, bounded behind the frightened wretches,
cornering, hunting them through flower - beds and
bushes, stealthily, keenly, now creeping among the
shadows, now springing like a panther on his prey,
until his blue jacket reeked and his elbows dripped.

I had picked up a rifle with a broken bayonet; the
Countess, clasping my left arm, stood swaying in the
rifle-smoke, eyes closed; and, when a horrid screeching
arose from the depths of the garden where they were
destroying Tric-Trac, she fell to shuddering, hiding
her face on my shoulder.

Suddenly Speed appeared, carrying a drenched lit
tle figure, partly wrapped in a sailor's pea-jacket, slim
limbs drooping, blue with cold.

"Put out that fire in there," he said, hoarsely; "we
must get her into bed. Hurry, for God's sake, Scarlett!
There's nobody in the house!"

"Jacqueline! Jacqueline! brave little Bretonne,"
murmured the Countess, bending forward and gather
ing the unconscious child into her strong, young arms.

Through the dim dawn, through smoke and fading
torch-light, we carried Jacqueline into the house, now
lighted up with an infernal red from the burning dining-
room.

" The house is stone ; we can keep the flames to one
room if we work hard," I said. A sailor stood by the
door wiping the stained blade of his broadaxe, and I
called on him to aid us.

A fresh company of sailors passed on the double,
rifles trailing, their officer shouting encouragement.

377

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

And as we came in view of the semaphore, I saw the
signal tower on fire from base to top.

The gray moorland was all nickering with flashes
where the bulk of the insurgent infantry began firing
in retreat; the marines' fusillade broke out from Para
dise village; rifle after rifle cracked along the river-
bank. Suddenly the deep report of a cannon came
echoing landward from the sea; a shell, with lighted
fuse trailing sparks, flew over us with a rushing whis
tle and exploded on the moors.

All this I saw from the house where I stood with
Speed and a sailor, buried in smoke, chopping out
blazing wood-work, tearing the burning curtains from
the windows. The marines fired steadily from the
windows above us.

"They want the Red Terror 1" laughed the sailors.
"They shall have it!"

"Hunt them out! Hunt them out!" cried an officer,
briskly. "Fire!" rang out a voice, and the volley
broke crashing, followed by the clear, penetrating
boatswain's whistle sounding the assault.

Blackened, scorched, almost suffocated, I staggered
back to the tea-room, where the Countess stood clasp
ing Jacqueline, huddled in a blanket, and smoothing
the child's wet curls away from a face as white as
death.

Together we carried her back through the smoking
hallway, up the stairs to my bedroom, and laid her in
the bed.

The child opened her eyes as we drew the blankets.

"Where is Speed?" she asked, dreamily.

A moment later he came in, and she turned her head
languidly and smiled.

"Jacqueline! Jacqueline!" he whispered, bending
close above her.

"Do you love me, Speed?"
378

LIKE HER ANCESTORS

"Ah, Jacqueline," he stammered, "more than you
can understand."

Suddenly a step sounded on the stairs, a rifle-stock
grounded, clanging, and a sonorous voice rang out :

" Salute, 0 my brother of the toug ! The enemies of
France are dead!"

And in the silence around him Salah Ben-Ahmed
the Marabout recited the fatha, bearing witness to the
eternal unity of God.

Late that night the light cavalry from Lorient rode
into Paradise. At dawn the colonel, established in
the mayory, from whence its foolish occupant had
fled, sent for Speed and me, and when we reported he
drew from his heavy dolman our commissions, restor
ing us to rank and pay in the regiment de marche which
he commanded.

At sunrise I had bade good-bye to the sweetest woman
on earth ; at noon we were miles to the westward, riding
like demons on Buckhurst's heavy trail.

I am not sure that we ever saw him again, though
once, weeks later, Speed and I and a dozen hussars
gave chase to a mounted man near St. Brieuc, and that
man might have been Buckhurst. He led us a magh
nificent chase straight to the coast, where we rode
plump into a covey of Prussian hussars, who were
standing on their saddles, hacking away at the tele
graph-wires with their heavy, curved sabres.

That was our first and last sight of the enemy in
either Prussian or communistic guise, though in the
long, terrible days and nights of that winter of '71,
when three French armies froze, and the white death,
not the Prussians, ended all for France, rumors of in
surrection came to us from the starving capital, and
we heard of the red flag flying on the H6tel-de-Ville,
and the rising of the carbineers under Flourens; and

379

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

some spoke of the leader of the insurrection and called
him John Buckhurst.

That Buckhurst could have penetrated Paris neither
Speed nor I believed; but, as all now know, we were
wrong, though the testimony concerning his death*
at the hands of his terrible colleague, Mortier, was not
in evidence until a young ruffian, known as "The
Mouse," confessed before he expiated his crimes on
Sartory Plain in 1872.

Thus, for three blank, bitter months, freezing and
starving, the 1st Regiment de marche of Lorient Hus
sars stood guard at Brest over the diamonds of the
crown of France.

*This affair is dealt with in Ashes of Empire.

XXII

THE SECRET

THE news of the collapse of the army of the East
found our wretchedly clothed and half -starved
hussars still patrolling the environs of Brest from
Belair to the Pont Tournant, and from the banks of
the Elorn clear around the ramparts to Lannion Bay,
where the ice-sheathed iron-clads lay with banked
fires off the Port Militaire, and the goulet guard-boats
patrolled the Port de Commerce from the Passe de
1'Ouest to the hook on the Digue and clear around to
Cap Espagnol.

All Brest, from the battlements of the Chateau of St.
Martin, in Belair, was on watch, so wrought up was the
governor over the attempt on the treasure-train. For
three months our troopers scarcely left their saddles,
except to be taken to the hospital in Recouvrance.

The rigor of the constant alert wore us to shadows ;
rockets from the goulet, the tocsin, the warning boom
of a gun from the castle, found us spurring our jaded
horses through ice and snow to scour the landward
banlieue and purge it of a dreaded revolt. The names
of Marx, of Flourens, of Buckhurst, were constantly re
peated; news of troubles at Bordeaux, rumors of the
red flag at Marseilles, only served to increase the rigid
system of patrol, which brought death to those in the
trenches as well as to our sleet-soaked videttes.

Suddenly the nightmare ended with a telegram.
Paris had surrendered.

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

Immediately the craze to go beset us all; our im
provised squadrons became clamoring mobs of peas
ants, wild to go home. Deserters left us every night;
they shot some in full flight ; some were shot after drum
head stances in which Speed and I voted in vain for
acquittal. But affairs grew worse; our men neglected
their horses; bands of fugitives robbed the suburbs,
roving about, pillaging, murdering, even burning the
wretched hovels where nothing save the four walls
remained even for the miserable inmates.

Our hussars were sent on patrol again, but they de
serted with horses and arms in scores, until, when we
rode into the Rue du Bois d' Amour, scarce a squadron
clattered into the smoky gateway, and the infantry of
the line across the street jeered and cursed us from their
barracks.

On the last day of February our regiment was dis
banded, and the officers ordered to hold themselves in
readiness to recruit the debris of a dragoon regiment,
one squadron of which at once took possession of our
miserable barracks.

On the first day of March, by papers from London,
we learned that the war was at an end, and that the
preliminary treaty of Sunday, the 26th, had been sign
ed at Versailles.

The same mail brought to me an astonishing offer
from Cairo, to assist in the reorganization and accept
a commission in the Egyptian military police. Speed
and I, shivering in our ragged uniforms by the bar
rack stove, discussed the matter over a loaf of bread
and a few sardines, until we fell asleep in our greasy
chairs and dreamed of hot sunshine, and of palms, and
of a crimson sunset against which a colossal basking
monster, half woman, half lion, crouched, wallowing
to her stone breasts in a hot sea of sand.

When I awoke in the black morning hours I knew
382

THE SECRET

that I should go. All the roaming instinct in me was
roused. I, a nomad, had stayed too long in one stale
place ; I must be moving on. A feverish longing seized
me; inertia became unbearable; the restless sea called
me louder and louder, thundering on the breakwater;
the gulls, wheeling above the arsenal at dawn, screamed
a challenge.

Leave of absence, and permission to travel pending
acceptance of my resignation, I asked for and obtained
before the stable trumpets awoke my comrade from his
heavy slumber by the barrack stove.

I made my packet — not much — a few threadbare gar
ments folded around her letters, one to mark each
miserable day that had passed since I spurred my
horse out of Tre"court on the track of the wickedest man
I ever knew.

Speed awoke with the trumpets, and stared at me
where I knelt before the stove in my civilian clothes,
strapping up my little packet.

"Oh," he said, briefly, "I knew you were going."

"So did I," I replied. "Will you ride to Tre"court
with me? I have two weeks' permission for you."

He had no clothing but the uniform he wore, and no
baggage except a razor, a shirt, a tooth-brush, and a
bundle of letters, all written on Madame de Vassart's
crested paper, but not signed by her.

We bolted our breakfast of soup and black bread,
and bawled for our horses, almost crazed with impa
tience, now that the moment had come at last.

"Good-bye!" shouted the shivering dragoon officers,
wistfully, as we wheeled our horses and spurred, clat
tering, towards the black gates. " Good-bye and good
luck! We drink to those you love, comrades!"

"And they shall drink to you! Good-bye! Good
bye!" we cried, till the salt sea- wind tore the words
from our teeth and bowed our heads as we galloped

383

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

through the suburbs and out into the icy high-road,
where, above us, the telegraph-wires sang their whir
ring dirge, and the wind in the gorse whistled, and the
distant forest sounded and resounded with the gale's
wailing.

On, on, hammering the flinty road with steel-shod
hoofs, racing with the racing clouds, thundering across
the pontoon, where benumbed soldiers huddled to
stare, then bounding forward through the narrow
lanes of hamlets, where pinched faces peered out at
us from hovels, and gaunt dogs fled from us into the
frozen hedge.

Far ahead we caught sight of the smoke of a loco
motive.

"Landerneau!" gasped Speed. "Ride hard, Scar
lett!"

The station-master saw us and halted the moving
train at a frantic signal from Speed, whose uniform
was to be reckoned with by all station-masters, and
ten minutes later we stood swaying in a cattle-car,
huddled close to our horses to keep warm, while the
locomotive tore eastward, whistling frantically, and an
ocean of black smoke poured past, swarming with
sparks. Crossing the Aune trestle with a ripping roar,
the train rushed through Chateaulin, south, then east,
then south.

Toward noon, Speed, clinging to the stall -bars,
called out to me that he could see Quimper, and in a
few moments we rolled into the station, dropped two
cars, and steamed out again into the beautiful Breton
country, where the winter wheat was green as new grass
and the gorse glimmered, and the clear streams rushed
seaward between their thickets of golden willows and
green briers, already flushing with the promise of new
buds.

Rosporden we passed at full speed ; scarcely a patch
384

THE SECRET

of melting snow remained at Bannalec; and when we
steamed slowly into Quimperle1, the La'ita ran crystal-
clear as a summer stream, and I saw the faint blue of
violets on the southern slope of the beech-woods.

Some gendarmes aided us to disembark our horses,
and a sub-officer respectfully offered us hospitality at
the barracks across the square; but we were in our sad
dles the moment our horses' hoofs struck the pave
ment, galloping for Paradise, with a sweet, keen wind
blowing, hinting already of the sea.

This was that same road which led me into Paradise
on that autumn day which seemed years and years
ago. The forests were leafless but beautiful ; the black
thorns already promised their scented snow to follow
the last melting drift which still glimmered among the
trees in deep woodland gullies. A violet here and
there looked up at us with blue eyes ; in sheltered spots,
fresh, reddish sprouts pricked the moist earth, here a
whorl of delicate green, there a tender spike, guarding
some imprisoned loveliness; buds on the beeches were
brightening under a new varnish; naked thickets, no
longer dead gray, softened into harmonies of pink
and gold and palest purple.

Once, halting at a bridge, above the quick music
of the stream we heard an English robin singing all
alone.

" I never longed for spring as I do now," broke out
Speed. "The horror of this black winter has scarred
me forever — the deathly whiteness, month after month ;
the freezing filth of that ghastly city ; the sea, all slime
and ice!"

"Gallop," I said, shuddering. "I can smell the
moors of Paradise already. The winds will cleanse
us."

We spoke no more ; and at last the road turned to the
east, down among the trees, and we were traversing
»s 385

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

the square of Paradise village, where white -capped
women turned to look after us, and children stared at
us from their playground around the fountain, and the
sleek magpies fluttered out of our path as we galloped
over the bridge and breasted the sweet, strong moor
wind, spicy with bay and gorse.

Speed flung out his arm, pointing. "The circus
camp was there/' he said. " They have ploughed the
clover under."

A moment later I saw the tower of Tr£court, touched
with a ray of sunshine, and the sea beyond, glittering
under a clearing sky.

As we dismounted in the court-yard the sun flashed
out from the fringes of a huge, snowy cloud.

"There is Jacquelinel" cried Speed, tossing his
bridle to me in his excitement, and left me planted
there until a servant came from the stable.

Then I followed, every nerve quivering, almost dread
ing to set foot within, lest happiness awake me and I
find myself in the freezing barracks once more, my
brief dream ended.

In the hallway a curious blindness came over me. I
heard Jacqueline call my name, and I felt her hands
in mine, but scarcely saw her; then she slipped away
from me, and I found myself seated in the little tea-room,
listening to the dull, double beat of my own heart, trem
bling at distant sounds in the house — waiting, endless
ly waiting.

After a while a glimmer of common-sense returned
to me. I squared my shoulders and breathed deeply,
then rose and walked to the window.

The twigs on the peach-trees had turned wine-color ;
around the roots of the larkspurs delicate little pal-
mated leaves clustered ; crocus spikes pricked the grass
everywhere, and the tall, polished shoots of the peonies
glistened, glowing crimson in the sun. A heavy cat

386

sunned its sleek flanks on the wall, brilliant eyes half
closed, tail tucked under. Ange Pitou had grown
very fat in three months.

A step at the door, and I wheeled, trembling. But
it was only a Breton maid, who bore some letters on a
salver of silver.

" For me?" I asked.

"If you please/' she said, demurely.

Two letters, and I knew the writing on one. The
first I read standing :

"BUFFALO, N. Y., Feb. 3, 1871.

" MR. SCARLETT, DEAR SIR AND FRIEND, — Trusting you're
well I am pleased to admit the same, the blind Goddess having
smiled on me and the circus since we quit that damn terra firma
for a more peeceful climb.

" We are enjoying winter quarters near to the majestic phe
nomena of Niagara, fodder is cheap and vittles bountiful.

" Would be pleased to have you entertain idees ot joining us,
and the same to Mr. Speed — you can take the horses. I have
a lion man from Jersey City. We open in Charleston S. C.
next week no more of La continong for me, savvy voo! home is
good enough for me. That little Jacqueline left me I got a girl
and am training her but she ain't Jacqueline. Annimals are
well Mrs. Grigg sends her love and is joined by all especially
the ladies and others too numerous to mention. Hoping to hear
from you soon about the horses I remain yours truly and cour
teously, H. BYRAM ESQ."

The second letter I opened carelessly, smiling a
little:

"NEW YORK, Feb. i, 1871.

" DEAR MR. SCARLETT, — We were married yesterday. We
have life before us, but are not afraid. I shall never forget you ;
my wife can never forget the woman you love. We have both
passed through hell — but we have passed through alive. And
we pray for the happiness of you and yours.

" KELLY EYRE."

Sobered, I laid this letter beside the first, turned
thoughtfully away into the room, then stood stock-
still.

387

THE MAIDS OF PARADISE

The Countess de Vassart stood in the doorway, a
smile trembling on her lips. In her gray eyes I read
hope ; and I took her hands in mine. She stood silent
with bent head, exquisite in her silent shyness ; and I
told her I loved her, and that I asked for her love ; that
I had found employment in Egypt, and that it was suf
ficient to justify my asking her to wed me.

"As for my name/' I said, "you know that is not
the name I bear; yet, knowing that, you have given
me your love. You read my dossier in Paris; you
know why I am alone, without kin, without a family,
without a home. Yet you believe that I am not tainted
with dishonor. And I am not. Listen, this is what
happened ; this is why I gave up all ; and . . . this is
my name!" . . .

And I bent my head and whispered the truth for the
first time in my life to any living creature.

When I had ended I stood still, waiting, head still
bowed beside hers.

She laid her hand on my hot face and slowly drew it
close beside hers.

"What shall I promise you?" she whispered.

"Yourself, Eline."

"Take me. ... Is that all?"

"Your love."

She turned in my arms and clasped her hands be
hind my head, pressing her mouth to mine.

THE END

l\ "