Evening Star Newspaper, January 13, 1929, Page 92

6 ICHAEL ROSTOV was a tall, - dark young man with a nar- ¢ row face and an interesting pallor and enigmatic Kind old ladies impre: sionable young ones liked to think that he had suffered indescribable horrors and privations. As a matter of fact, he had suffered them, but he did not talk about his experiences. He was shaving himself at the fourth- floor window of one of those flat white Mediterranean houses. He used an old- fashioned razor. He held the tip of his nose between the first finger and thumb of his left hand. And below him Cap d'Or arranged itself in, white splendor upon its headland anc along the blue rim of the Anse des Flers. Flags float- ed—the tricolor, the Stars and Stripes, the union jack. The three white cupo- las of the Hotel Cosmopolis carried each fug. Michael Rostov was employed at the Cosmopolis. A pair of trousers hung over the back of a chair. Rostov possessed two pairs of morning trousers and a morning coat. He had to be very careful with his trousers; he kept them creased un- der the mattress. The Cosmopolis ex- pected a well creased leg. Rostov’s wife had just come into the room and had taken off her hat. She was a little out of breath after climb- ing four flights of stairs; she looked dark and delicate, for she never had quite enough to eat and she spent some eight hours each day serving in a lace and fancy shop in the Rue du Gare. \It was a tiresome shop; the proprietress was greedy, and you to be so per- suasive, trying to make idle people buy perfectly unnecessary articles—embroi- dered coats, vivid jumpers, little luxu- ries in lace, handbags or leather work. Vera Rostov ended most days with shatows under her eyes. She sat down and looked at her hus- band, who was washing the remains of the lather from his face. She both loved her husband and was afraid of him; afraid that some day he might suddenly realize that she was an en- April 15, It ceases to pay after the middle of April.” “And so does my hotel. Well, there are Paris, London, New York, all the world” “But the money for traveling.” “Some of these nice people should give us a free ride in their automobiles. And then, when we arrive in Paris or London—" They looked at each other across the table and in the eyes of each fear stood velled. What a life! Always to have to hurry, with worried, smiling faces, at the heels of those wealthy patrons, to_have to truckle to a world that once had been theirs! Yes, like half-starved dogs sniffing and fawning at a butcher's knees! Said the woman: “Sometimes, Michael, I wish that we had been born peasants.” He forced himself to be ironical and 8ay. “‘Oh, no, not that dultness. Life has forced us to conduct an experiment. And, after all, what an adventure! I speak four languages. Some of these figple shall be persuaded to give us a “Your women, my dear?” “My lady patrons, my devoted dow- agers, my Novembers wh owill fox trot like April.” Vera was peeling one of her peaches. Her eyes were ashamed. “Michael, it's horrible.” For a moment his face looked fierce. “Yes, I'm a sort of parasite, a danc- ing monkey. There are times when I could cut throats and appropriate purses. What a pity that there are no seas left for pirates. ... That peach looks good. Yes, I stole it.” And he THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHI%\YGTON'. D. C, JANUARY 13, "1929—PART T PRECIOUS STONES By Warwick Deeping Shorn of Princely Possessions, Michael’s Life Was Hard. rather hungry. What a body one was! And soon he would be looking at the great trays of pastry and wishing that he could carry a bagful home to Vera. “Michael!" Mrs. De Quincy Evans’ hand was waving him to a chair. “People, this is Michael. Michael, my people.” He bowed gravely to the party, and with compressed lips sat down beside the middle-aged woman. Obviously she did not know what to say to Rostov, and he was equally mute. Then the orchestra struck up, and having got to his feet Rostov made his bow to the middle-aged lady. “Will madame dance?” Almost she looked shocked. “I don’t dance.” He raised his eyebrows gallantly over her brusquerie and tried one of the girls. “I'd love to, but I'm awfully shy of pros.” They danced. Rostov was an artist, and yet he managed to dance with an air of polite detachment. Meanwhile the chinless youth sat and despised him. “This Russian fellah——" The chinless one could not understand héw any girl could bring herself to dance with a hired outsider. Mrs, Evans talked. The severe lady watched and disapproved. Between his duties Ros- tov drank tea and looked Byronic and managed to snatch one sugary cake. But all such afternoons come to an end, and Mrs. De Quincy Evans' party dispersed, but she herself remained, retaining Rostov beside her. His asso- ciation with Mrs. Evans was g to cause comment, and he knew it and lauthed. At 1 o'clock Vera went back to her shop in the Rue de Gare, and Michael prepared for the business of the day. He had a dancing lesson to give at 3 cumbrance and wish to be free. Life would be so much easier for a man like Michael if he were free. For Cap d'Or did not know that Vera was Rostov’s wife. She was supposed to be his sister, and even as his sister she remained very much veiled. These un- fortunate Russians were—of course— very interesting, but then, Cap d'Or was predominantly feminine, and Michael danced so exquisitely. He was supposed to be a prince disguised as a lounge lizard. As a matter of fact, he had been a prince. it OSTOV was wiping his face. He turned to look at his wife. She was tired. She had come back from the shop to prepare and share dejeuner with him. And as Rostov looked at her he remembered his first interview with the polished person who managed the Cosmopolis. “Married?” “yes.” “You can't be married for this job. It isn't & la mode.” “Very well, I'm not married. I have & sister.” For the Rostovs had been very hun- in those days, and hunger is & gzverml persuader. And Michael loved Vera, though the how and why of it were beyond him. But Vera was gentle. Moreover, they had passed the great tnfcne‘dg u!:ezgn:: ';‘nd been hun- and ether. ‘%e said, “Sit still. T'm waiter today. I haven't been standing in a shop.” And Vera knew that he had been writing. He wrote in French, tales, articles, plays, in the hope of getting some mccepted and of making money. He stayed at home in the mornings to write when he had no dancing lessons to give, for staying at home saved clothes, and clothes were precious. “What's the menu?” He glanced at her quizzically as he turned down his shirt sleeves and fas- tened . the links. Vera was different from other women, or she affected him differently. He saw so much of women, multitudinous women of all ages and looks who had the right to order him to dance with them; flirtatious women, sentimental women, silly women, frank- . He had had a % 'y bored ‘him. He was like a boy compelled to eat two or three pounds of sweets daily. But Vera was different. She was delicate and gentle and underfed and tired and coura- geous, and somehow his compassion stood over and beside her in all the flurry of a silly, pornographic, sensa- tional, get-rich-quick world. He could not help being & cynic, but toward his wife he never felt cynical. She had reality. H:ycould be playful, though the world saw him as an interestingly melancholy end rather silent man. “What's this? Herring a maltre d’hotel?” He had opened the door of their dresser cupboard. Grand dejeuner had to be as cold as the plates. Rostov spread a cloth and produced knives and forks, plates, four rolls, some butter and a wedge of cheese, a tin of herrings, , glasses. They drank water. And he had to watch his wife. ‘Vera had a way of pretending that she ‘was not hungry. “Well, but there is something else.” * ok *x % THERE were occasions when Rostov dined out, and he had dined out the previous night. As a boy he had amused himself with tricks of leger- demain, and on the previous night he had managed to pocket a couple of peaches. Sometimes he pocketed the most extraordinary things—the wing of a chicken wrapped up in a rice-paper serviette, a soft roll, bonbons, apples. He placed the peaches in front of his ‘wife. He laughed. “For madame!” Vera Rostov's face quivered. “But one for you.” “But I don't eat peaches. Oh, no. T ate peaches last night with Madame la Duchess de Nouveau Riche. Be- sides, I dined so well, disgustingly well.” Almost he looked apologetic. He was geuntcd with so many_ free meals. omen cultivated him. ~Vera had no free meals; it troubled him. He insisted on her eating. There had been occasions when he had detected her in the crime of trying to make him eat for one when there was not enough for two. Meanwhile they talked, and nearly always their talk was of ways and means and of mohey. It had to be so. The new world was so very raw and new to them, and from being privileged people they had been driven out to join the crowd of hangers-on who coax ex- istence from the pockets of the well-to- do. They were spongers, but without being blessed or cursed with the souls of spongers. They had known great freedom, and always they were dream- ing and scheming to escape from the circus arena back to the boxes, whence ou watched other mountebanks play- tricks. Said Michael, “One day a week I should like to be able to change into a monkey. My revenge—yes. Think of a very active and malicious monkey turn- ed loose in the Cosmopolis and snatch- ing wigs and jewelry and throwing soft, ulpy things into fat faces. My dear, ’s & dream.” She was more practical. She had had to learn to make her own clothes. “Michael, where are we going when the season ends here?” ‘When he was worried, he would ap- Pear most frivolous. o'clock to & money. She had She was been having was irritated by it, but what could he | on the table. It- was for him, the poodle, the good dog, and he both wanted it and loathed it. She might do these things in a different way. Mrs. Evans looked up at him archly. “I shall be around here tonight, Come and have supper with me, my dear, afterward.” * ok ok % ROSTOV left the hotel. He walked fast in the direction of his street quarter. He climbed the four flights of steps. He opened the door and saw his wife laying the table for their evening meal—bread, potage and macaroni. Vera looked tired and paler than usual. Her movements had a languor. “ Rostov noticed this. Another of his fears was for his wife's health. “Tired, Vera?” “Only one of my headaches.” “Lie down. Il look after the res- taurant.” “No. I can manage. Go and change.” Rostov_had to dress and return to the Cosmopslis by 8:30 o'clock, where he would have to dance and appear gay and debonair till midnight. At 12 o'clock Mrs. De Quincy Evans would carry him off in her car, and he would eat, and in return for his food he would be_expected to be gallant and amusing. He went into the bedroom to change. Confound the old woman! ‘Why couldn’t she let him go to bed in peace? He said, “I have to go out to supper with the woman from whom I stole the peaches, Very boring. I think I shall tell her I'm married.” Vera replied from the other room: “Poor Michael!” “Oh, one has to put up with it. She do? Other things may have to be swallowed when you are hungry, but Mrs. De Quincy Evans was a consider- able mouthful, and as he stood beside I widow with much |her chair and met her cosmetic smile terested in Rostov. | he began to wonder what her game was. lessons from him [ Was she— for & month, and always she was trying |of Mrs. Evans as a good-natured and tov prefe: to think talk to her of himself and ntlfi; officious woman who wanted to to his past. At 4 o'clock there was the |be dansant at the Cosmonolis, and Rostov | ness. A Mrs. De Quincy Evans was giving a tea party, and with one of her cos- metic smiles she had ordered Rostov to be in attendance. Mrs. De Quincy Evans was a character. She had occu- pled one of the most expensive suites at the Cosmopolis. She was one of those immensely wealthy women who ‘wander about Southern Europe and Northern Africa. You found her at the St. George at Algiers or at the Semiramis atocdro or at the Cosmopolis at Cap 'Or. Always she was dressed to the last fingernail. No one knew her age, not even her French maid, who daily re- constructed Mrs. Evans’ face. She was like Rome, the Eternal City, forever renewed in the midst of its ruins. Lately Mrs. De Quincy Evans had rented a villa on the cape. She ap- peared every night at the Cosmopolis, glittering as though she carried half the contents of a Parisian jewelry shop. The man servant who sat beside her chauffeur was supposed to be a private detective. Rumor had it that she had bought up half the precious stones that had been smuggled by wretched refu- gees out of Russia. * koK ok Ros’rov appeared in the vast lounge of the Cosmopolis at 4 o'clock. He was a young man at whom people looked. He had a dark aloofness and dignity. He was well dressed. He could stand quite still and be stared at without appearing conscious of these stares. No one supposed that he emerged from a fourth-floor room in a back street or that he had a wife who served in a shop. Gustave, the head waiter, floated up to Rostov with fat, oily movements. Gustave hated Rostov because Rostov would not allow him to be conversa- tional and familiar. “That’s your cld woman's table.” Gustave had one of those rubber noses that wrinkle up like a dog's, and a malicious, icy smirk. “How much does she pay you to go out to dinner with her?” Rostov stood very straight, with his weight on his heels, and looked over the top of Gustave's head. But Mrs. De Quincy Evans was ar- riving. She was always arriving, be- cause her arrivals were so sensational and lengthy. If she stayed put for a moment, it was a mere pause in the rhythm of her comings and goings. (She was a large woman, with a glowing head and a face that was perennially gelchtd. She was always moving her ands, which were covered with rings. She called all the waiters by their Chris- tian names. She patted men's sleeves. Rostov bowed to her very gravely, and she gave him a jocund glance, and with all her party in tow was met by the urbane Gustave. “I have reserved madame her table.” Rostov followed the party, trying not to feel like a monkey at the end of a string. The party consisted of a mid- d and liked to parade her kind- She was taking something from her “Good boy, Michael.” He saw the hundred-franc note lald BY WILL ROGERS. ELL, all T know is just what I read in the papers, or what happens here in the old Hu- man Hash Bowl. We got a new Police Chief here and he has arrested most of the population and over half the Police force. I look for him to issue an order arresting him- self some day. He has got the Cops so scared that they are arresting traffic instead of directing it. He may get away with it. He is quite a fellow. He has had great training for such a strenuous life. He used to be the head of the Mayors Reception Commiitte. It was his work to go down the Bay or out on the n-coming Boulevards and meet the Visitors to the City and try and get them to go to City Hall and have their Pictures taken with the Mayor. .There was for awhile that you couldent get a passport into the city unless you had had it “Vesayyed” on the steps of the City Hall. He has been decorated by almost every foreign Government, for getting their subjects through the traffic from the pler to their Hotel. till noon every day just to meet the Foreign Lecturers. People used to try and disguise and keep the Reception committe from knowing they were com- ing into New York, But it dident do any good. They had a Detective force to find out when any Channell Swim- mer, Golf Player, foot racer or Diplo- mat was trying to sneak thru the City without getting their Picture taken and they would nail em. Grover (his name is Grover Weyland) worked on a commission basis. He got so much for meeting an Aviator, so much for Swimmers. The Bounty on Queens was the highest. If you could coax a Queen to detour by City Hall why he could lay off and call it a day and not have to meet anybody else, And he made such a big success out of this that a great store heard about it and offered a job at a great big salary. But say, he is just going after these Crooks in this town like he did after those Notables. He is not letting a one get away, cause he is that kind of a fellow. ‘There is no half way with him, 1t would be a good joke on this town if he did clean it up. Course that would 1uin it, for its getting like Paris, its supposed Devilment is its biggest add. ‘The rest of the country drop in here and think if they dont stay up till four a. m. that New Yorkers will think they are “Yokels,” when as a matter of fact New Yorkers have been in bed so long they dont know what the other half is dle-aged woman, two girls, a young old man with an eyeglass and a youth with no chin. Mrs. De Quincy Evans settled She took a long time about “Why, of course, we can go to a place where a season is beginning.” ‘But -where? ..The..shop..closes on ! ¢ Oh,..that dinner! 3, He ,was. always,fellow. is going to get somewhere, ” P it. She talked all the time. doing. New York lives off the out of towner trying to make New York think he is uite a fellow. So it looks like this ‘There ;out, - gave me a hundred-france note after the show today. I performed with her THEY DANCED. AN ARTIST, AND ROSTOV ‘WAS YET HE MAN. AGED TO DANCE WITH AN AIR OF POLITE DETACHMENT. MEANWHILE, THE CHINLESS YOUTH SAT AND DESPISED HIM. “You work very hard, my dear—too hard.” She was wearing a rope of pearls and a collection of exquisite rings—old rings picked up during her travels. Rostov had noticed them. They filled him at times with a savage bitterness. He believed that many of them were party. I'll put the note on your dress- ing table. Buy yourself something.” VERA LOOKED TIRED AND PALER THAN USUAL; HER MOVEMENT HAD A LANGUOR. ROSTOV NOTICED THIS. AN- OTHER OF HIS FEARS WAS FOR HIS WIFE'S HEALTH. “Housekeeping, my dear. And some of it can go into the money box.” “I leave it to you.” * ok ok ¥ THAT particular evening proved to be just like other evenings, so far as Rostov _was concerned, but Mrs. De Qincy Evans was different. She ex- haled a perfume of property. She car- ried him off at midnight. In the car she patted his hand. If Police Head Really Does Clean Up it ?&'-:::5 Will Ruin the Town—Natives Stay at Home, Says Rogers. wont be any ‘“in between” He is either going to be good, or a bust. There will be no half way record with him. So here is good luck to you Grover, you took on a mans job, and if you get away with it you will be the fellow that they iwill be rounding up the notables to bring and have their picture taken on the steps with. We had all the Scientists met here in convention lately. (I dont mean the Christian Scientists. These from t!e ;wh!w talked :E}'; Atheist Bclal;fllflg read al eacl other, dluuu"lfx whgg &‘e‘;m had <0ne of them got in wrong with | wrung from hungry unfortunates. They arrived. Supper was lald—iced soup, lobster, creamed chicken, a relish, fruit. ‘There was champagne, also a box of cigars. . Mrs. Evans dismissed the servant. And Rostov was conscious of some- thing in the air. There was a part of him that began to bristle. Even the cigar she offered him was a 10-franc bribe. And for what? "My" dear, have you noticed my Oh, yes, he had noticed her “Madame has exquisite taste.” “It is my hobby. And at the same time I help people. Is it not true, my dear, that the Riviera is full of your unfortunate people?” “Very true.” . “And sometimes they need money and they go to some one with a ring or a brooch or a necklace and they have to take what the wretch will give. Even you, my dear, probably cherish some treasure.” Rostov’s glance seemed to narrow. He was on the alert. “Yes, that is true.” "Qnd there are many refugees.” “yes “Well, my dear, I can offer you profession. Together we might con- trive to help your people and to please me. I presume you meet many Rus- sians.” “Oh, yes.” “Well, my dear, why not bring them to me? You can act as my confiden- tial agent. ‘I am a very rich woman. I adore gems; they are my passion. But I am not a broker. Rather you could descrive me as a banker who buys securities. Now, wouldn't it be quite easy for you to go about and find people who had jewelry to sell and bring them to me? It would be so nice and easy for them; no horrible hag- gling, no sneaking into shops.” Rostov's face was very pale. O “I see. You suggest, madame, that 1 explore Cap d'Or.” “Not only Cap d’Or, but when I go to Monte Carlo, or Nice, or Cannes, or Paris, or London you follow me, my dear, and act as my agent. It will pay you better than dancing.” * ok ok ok SK!: was very plausible, sitting there in a golden wig and with her peach- blossom face, but Rostov had one of those moments of illumination when & man knows things without being able to say how he knows them. Suddenly he knew her to be a succulent, old woman, and he felt a chilliness up his spine, tremors of disgust. But he was -the diplomat. He felt in the hip pocket of his trousers and brought out a little black leather case. “Madame will excuse me.” He watched her face. He saw it sharpen and. harden, just as many women’s faces grow hard and alert and at bridge. The pupils of her. THEY SHOULD THROW HISTORY INTO THE RIVER. the Toastmaster of the whole concern by announcing that, “We needed some other religion, that we should look to the earth for our guidance instead of to the sky.” The “Head man” in the Scientist business told him, “Keep your mind on your work, never mind worry- ing about something you dont know anything about. We don't want to get mixed up with these Religious people ent. They are the ones we are li off of, so find som wrong with somebody besides our m ticket.” A Scientist is a man that can 3 greedy | when his wife is hungry. find wgeid! eyes were pin points. - “My last resource, madame. One must keep something in reserve. May I show it to you?” “Of course.” He sprang the catch, raised the lid, and displayed to her a superb emerald in an old Italian setting. had be- longed to his mother. It was worth a great deal of money, and always he carried it about with him, buttoried up in his hip pocket. Mrs. De Quincy Evans’ eyes caressed it, but she was astute, a good business woman. “A pretty thing, madame. The emerald is perfect. Perhaps madame will value the for me.” She took it in her thick and stumpy fingers, held it up to the light and ex- amined the setting. “Do you wish to sell it, my dear?” “That might depend.” “Well, a hundred pounds—perhaps. There is a slight discoloration.” Rostov, deliberately and with grave politeness, recovered the ring from her pink palm and returned it to the case. “You hag,” he thought, “the thing is worth five hundred, if i§ is worth a penny.” $ He bowed to her. “Madame_will e: me, but I do not sell. Nor I tempted to be madame’s agent and help her to buy cheaply from poor devils who have just a little left. No, I have not yet fallen so low. I apologize for having per- mitted myself to eat madame’s food and drink her wine.” But she had phlegm. She was not a sensitive sort of woman. She laughed and made as though to box his “Don’t be silly, my dear. Do you think I should buy that ring from you without having it valued by an expert? Don't be so dignified and silly. That's the worst of you people with half a mile of family tree behind you—you want everything taken at your own valua- tion; you want thi done for you en prince. Don’t be o She pushed the cigars toward him. “Put half a dozen of thase in your Eocket and don’t quarrel with good usiness, I am moving on to Cannes next month. If the value of thin, His face looked narrow and old, his eyes sunk in his head. He stood look- ing at her for one moment. He seemed to see her for what she was. He felt sgfled. He wanted to get out of her villa. He said, “Madame is privileged. I have eaten her food. Sometimes one is_hungry, but it is worse for a man I will wish you hg_ve any sense of madame good night.” OUTBEDI the night was calm and clear, and the mountains and the way proving whether he ever out or not, and the more Rl b;::mhh;kg:hntmbodyun out al W] bigger Scientist he is. One of them here at this re- union read a Treatise, that the whole story of Christ and the Bible dident happen in the Holy land, that the whole thing was away in the middle of Asia, somewhere around where China and India meet now. Now what if he is right? Whats that got to do with stocks? The minute that California hears that there is a doubt among Scientists as to just where the whole :gfion ‘fifd:he Bil hsc"aok place, I bet ey Wi g up a “Scientist from some Rotatary Club” and he will read a p’nper ’wtp;eotve themve::l:l thing took place jusf ween le and Loi Beil'flh. Cl;lflornh. e len the argument will start as to whether the River Jordan is the Sacra- mento or the Talhassee. You know thats one reason why I think Henry Ford is the man in the World today. He said never mind History, he dident care what had happened, he wanted to m what was going I if every History on 1d things was thrown in the river, and everybody had nothing to study but the future, we would be about two hundred years ahead of what we are. What do we care about whether Caesar got along with Mark Anthony or not? What we want to know is “Are we going to get along with Eng- ’s:‘;?e 0&;&, and if not, get ourself rs.” George Washington wouldent tell his father a lie, but he misled the British about the strength of his Army till he led ’em into a war and killed most of 'em. What does that mean to us? What do we care whether he the Deleware in a “Skift” or dived under it? There is bridges on y it he it now, that how we got across it.|ingtor exactly Nothing ever happens the same twice anyhow. 5 Events are like finger prints, they say there is no two alike. History dident teach us that: somebody was smart enough to find it out. So whats the use studying one event, when you know it will never happen that way again? If all that History teaches us is that Napolean moved his Army on “its belly,” what does that prove? Only that soldiers were all belly and no head in those days. ‘We hfoh to fight the next war with an’ Airship, so what does it matter whether Lafayette was on a Grey Horse or a Car? If Henry Ford had studied the t instead of the future, about all he would ever have invented would have been, “The cheap- est suit of Armour on the market. It nlahnkuylle‘:hmuhmmvbl: se. Remem| mfl’:‘um%ur." [ - T N e poor and hungry on such a night and 50 much at the mercy of circumstance. If only one could live on moonlight! Also he had a feeling that he had made a fool of himself in allowing the cold, raw edge of his anger to show, rather like the edge of a tattered shirt. He had insulted Mrs. De Quincy Evans; it would do him no good; it might do him a great deal of harm. Climbing the four flights of stairs, he found the little living room in darkness. Vera had gone to bed. But she had left the bedroom door open and the bed- room light on. “Is that you, Michael?” “It 1s.” “I'm so sorry, Michael . . . my head- ache—I'm afraid I'm going to be ill.” He was shocked, frightened, touched, for her voice appealed; it was excusa- tory, humble, defensive. Almost she apologized to him for fearing that she was going to be ill. It was a disas- ter. He found her lying on her back in the bed, with her dark hair brushed ou,tf like a halo; her eyes excused her- self. He bent down and kissed her. “What is it—serious?” He was frightened, but trying not to look so. “It feels like flu, Michael. These wretched bodies of ours!" During the week that followed, the Cosmopolis and its various women won- dered what was the matter with Rostov. He looked ill and exhausted; he danced like a man who was half-asleep; he seemed to be stifling yawns; his eyes were frightened. The management had to complain, for Rostov was caught asleep in one of the lounge chairs at 5 o'clock in the afternoon when he should have been dancing. “This won't do, my lad. What's wrong?” : Rostov, startled, still half-submerged, blurted out the truth to the spruce per- son. . “My wife’s ill. I'm having to nurse her. I don't get much sleep.” “Haven't you got & nurse?” “I can’t afford a nurse.” The truth was out. The confession was overheard by four people who were playing bridge and by two women who were reading novels. It spread. =The 1t discovered the humanity at the back of itself and of life in general and in particular. “The poor lad! Falling asleep on his feet!” It forgave him the concealment of matrimony—in fact, it accepted his marriage, and made a personal affair of it. The hotel was moved, Three gentlewomen 1ormed them- selves into a committee; they collected nearly 5,000 francs. They asked management to present the money to Rostov, without giving the names of the donors, * Kk % WHEN Rostov received the money his face became all shimmery and soft. He had to go into the cloakroom and pretend to brush his coat before facing the lights and the faces. He found some one ¢t him kindly—a woman who had at him less kindly a week ago. “Mr. Rostov, how is your wife?” He bowed stiffiy.~ He was a little in- etier, thank It w e A you. ‘was_ pneu- People—people have ‘been so “Might I go and see your wife? No, I won't tire her. I was very ill myself before I came down here.” So Vera had visitors. They managed to climb those four flights of stairs. ‘They thought Vera Rostov “sweet” and said so. Also they heard things about Michael—touching things: There was much more in the fellow than you would have suspected. He was not all dinner Jacket and patent leather feet. Said an influential lady to her influ- ential I;Alusb:)r:d: % “Really, those two young things—so ?hflhengu l'l wish you could do some- was buttoning his braces, “I had a talk with the fellow. He'sa good .lad. I have been.lool ners, a young and breeding. I thigk: I’ might do something.” Bill. You are always rather a Somiething was- done—a very gener- ous, handsome something that quite changed the world for the Rostovs. ‘The hotel soon forgot the matter, but Cosmopolis experienced one of those revelations of surprise and compassion. they remembered it always. (Copyright, 1928.) Hoover’s Right-Hand Man (Continued From First Page.) in Omaha, and they found within a few minutes after the first introduction that they had many interests in com- mon, in addition to their Western origins. It's nobody's business just when George made up his mind he would marry Miss Blake, and nobody’s business when Miss Blake made up her mind that it wouldn't be such a bad idea. It is sufficient for the record that they were married almost as soon as Miss Blake had her Wellesley degree. Ask Mrs. Akerson, now the mother of three sturdy sons, about their romance, and she smilingly answers: “Well, we both loved the mountains. George had.worked a couple of Summers at Yellowstone. We had both been in the Rockies. We talked about them for hours at a time.” ‘Which only goes to prove that the world does move. It is doubtful, in this year of grace, if Harvard juniors and Wellesley freshmen are able to discuss anything as important as mountains. In college, the youthful Akerson had decided that in journalism he could fol- low his bent for politics most profitably. In this Summer vacation, therefore, he formed a connection with “the Minne- apolis Tribune. That led directly to a very fortunate “break.” Upon gradua- tion in 1912 he was to join the staff of the Tribune. His early writings had proved satisfactory. But just before commencement he was flabbergasted to receive orders to proceed at once to Baltimore to cover the Demo- cratic national convention. He was thrilled when he climbed -aboard the Federal Express in the South Station at Boston and the thrill never left him all during those hot, sticky days when the friends of Woodrow Wilson were beating down the strength of old Champ Clark. Even now, 16 years after the event, to | George can paint a vivid word picture of the scene in the old armory, in the pink of gray dawn of a June morn- ing, when Wilson finally reached the necessary two-thirds. Well grounded in the profession he had chosen, remarkably well-informed on politics and history, George Akerson ascended the journalistic ladder by rapid strides. In the Tribune office | he had come under the watchful eye of ‘W. H. (Harry) Hunter, the managing | editor. Mr. Hunter liked this long- | legged youngster'’s winning personality, and he liked his ability to turn out a fine bit of reporting. And to Hunter young George gave the same sort of loyal service he was later to render to Herbert Hoover. ‘The Tribune sent Akerson to Wash- n as a correspondent in the Fall of 1921, and his first big job of reporting | was the Conference on the Limitation of Armaments. During that Winter he made his first important national con- tacts, although his first close associa- tion with Secretary Hoover was still some time in the future. * Ok k ok Jus’l‘ after the war he had spent many months in the Northwestern States, studying and reporting on the remarkable growth of the Non-Partisian \_in Congress, League under the leadership of A. C. ‘Townley. Writing for one of the con- servative newspapers of the region, young Akerson had a free hand to criticize Townley in his more extrava- gant undertakings, and he did so with vigor. His training in itics con- vinced Akerson that the farmers were following false gods, and he did his best to tell them so. ‘When the farm bloc came into being taking its inspiration from the radicalism of Townley, Akerson was one of the first men in Washington to understand this phenomenon and to tell the Republican leaders of troublous times ahead. His information brought invitations to very important places, and when the campaign of 1924 rolled around he was asked to become a mem- ber of the advisory committee of the Republican national committee, with the Northwestern States as his particu- lar concern. At the outset of the cnmsmgn those States seemed firrevocably lost to the Coolidge-Dawes _ticket. At one “time there was a disposition at Chicago headquarters to write some of them off the slate as sure to go for La Follette, but Akerson never shared this view. | He had an abiding confidence in his | own State of Minnesota, and he had valuable contacts in the Dakotas and other sections where the La Follette tide was running high. And so the Republicans fought it out to the bitter end, and they were rewarded when all the doubtful States except Wisconsin fell into the Coolidge column on election day. In that campaign Akerson came in direct contact with Herbert Hoover and the Secretary of Commerce was in- stantly drawn to this tall, blond Viking. ‘Their {riendship ripened after the cam- paign, while Akerson was forging to the front among the Washington corre- spondents. Early in 1926 Mr. Hoover and Sccretary of State Kellogg were named as the Federal commission for the Sesquicentennial Exposition at Phil- adelphia. The commission needed a secretary, and both thought of Aker- son. Back in 1916 he had played a small part in the election of Kellogg to the Senate from Minnesota, and the two ‘were warm friends. ‘That Sesquicentennial Exposition arouses no fond memories today among Philadelphia taxpayers, but ‘there has always been agreement that the Federal Government’s exhibit was one of the striking features of the show. Hoover’s organizing ability and Akerson's devo- tion to detail formed a very happy working combination. Out of their as- sociation came the suggestion early that Autumn that Akerson drop all his newspaper activities and devote himself to Hoover's interests. The younger man, already impressed with Hoover’s great stature among the statesmen of the world, accepted without much hesi~ tation. If they thought of the presi= dency then, it was as some remote sibility, certainly not before 1932. Their first big task togethe: Mississippl flood of 1927, {lh:ov:l'flc :vn '.he’lundytnu &r‘-um of st en peoples along of the great river. The two men“vugud together, day after day, after night, bldnmt relief to ited sec- tions. It was a campaign, even no political office was at |tnnn:afi there were innumerable things to tary his new assistant was a diplomat. Perhaps it is a mere reflection of George Akerson's ponuhm‘vsm«u his newspaper colleagues in Washington, but the corps of correspondents at the Cavital have long held the view that Hoover began to improve in his political contacts, that he began to grow articu- late from the time he selected Akerson as his chief assistant. The true expla- nation probably is that the extremely critical writers were just a {rifle more lfiu:ndly '.'f. :.rhe Secretary of Commerce ause their access to the “chief” was made easler, e Ve