Evening Star Newspaper, March 12, 1933, Page 60

“A Strangé Young Man” By Margaret G. Herzog Another of The Star Magazine’s First-Run Stories, ' Written by' a New Author.. HE moon was there and all the trap- pings: the sounds of waves lapping, birds settling down for the night and distant dance music. The girl was “there, too, pleasingly blond and in just the right frame of mind. But In spite of these many blessings, Peter's sthoughts were scarcely in keeping with his romantic situation. It was with difficulty®that he bent and lightly kissed the inviting lips, and it was only with the utmost restrain{ that he refrained from hurrying his companion’s reluctant footsteps back to the dance floor. When some onc Lad cut in, immediiately, as he h&d known they wculd, Peter left the party. “Oh, Lo~d!” he said softly to tho night. It was-not the first time that young Peter Halliday—28, rich- man’s son, pride of -the jeunesse d'oree—had walked ‘through the dark muttering “Oh, Lord!” to tho night and. his troubjed . spirit. There.. had been. Felice and Eve and little flaxen-haired- Anne—who had remained indif- ferent te -him for so lcng that his hopes had gone rocketing high. Ther> had been & Parisian mterlude or two; and then there had been other kinds .of things as well—polo, stunt fly- ing, and before that, even, school activities. But it was always the same.- The zest of life was the quest, the strusgle. Once a situation had been conquered (and n:thing seemed to hold out very long against young Halliday) all of it's charm disappecared, completely. The curse of a granted prayer, he called it. Back in the hotel suite his man Cartwright met him with an inquiring eyebrow. It was only just past midnight. “Shall we be moving on soon, sir?” he asked wistfully, the personal majd down the hall having caught his fancy. Peter nodded. RS. HALLIDAY was at their Lake Tahoe camp when she received her son's letter stating that he was leaving the Rhode Island resort. She sent him a wire, Have you ever considered visiting your por- i ents -bejore age renders -thém ™ unr Stop Tahoe is pleasant now “allthoiugh there . is little suitadle material for you Stop Do come Stop Your very dervoted v MOTHER. After she hag sent the wire, Mrs. Halliday sat out on the white sands with Ursula Evans, the young daughter of her best friend. ‘She was a terrible child, really—Ursula—casual, im- polite, disrespectful—all of those things, in fact, which are banded togethcr under the much misused heading “modern.” She wasn'i evin \’ery pretty; but for every four meaning- less, €Xaggerated Temarks, she would. come out. with ‘6fie ‘astoundingly. pithy statement. MHer figure was a poem; and if, at times in bathing, her short hair hung a ‘trific’ straight, there was a certain dash ‘and chic to the way she Swept it behind her ears. Ursula amused Mrs. Halliday, who had eoq-' sented to chaperone her while the girl’s mother vacationed in Europe. “Have one of your sane interludes, will you, child?” she now begged. *“I want to talk about Peter. T do acdore himi ro. and he’s sueh a strange young man.” She looked out over the blue water. < “How do you mean ‘a strange young men?’” the girl inquired. “Well, I don’t know what really interests him, he ncver sticks at anything. Oh! I don’t mean giving up because he's unsuccessful. Peter does any number of things remarkably well. His iather and 1 just get to thinking: ‘There, now we have another Lindbergh in the family’ when he suddenly switches to writing. He vegetated one entire Summer on Capc Cod, sold two short stories as a result of his endeavors, and so far as I know, has never set pen to paper since!” 2 5 Ursula said, thoughtfully: “He’s interested as long as:it's hard. He's a fighter.” ‘And’ there was admiration in her tone. ‘ ETER'S meeting with Ursula (for, of course, his mother’s wire did bring him) was amus- ing. The girl was lying.out on the beach, where she spent most of her days, in front of the long, low, luxurious bungalow which Halli- days choee to call comp. . The heir to the Halliday millions surveyed her silently for some minutes, t.hlnkmg that she might be sleeping. But Ursula spoke, after.an. imervul. vnhout removing her arms from over her head. - “You approve of my -figure, .young man,” nhe said, “but. you're going to be horribly disap- pomud in my face.” Shesltup 3 “Theré is room for mmcmt" remarhed Peter, with. an_intimate sort of insolence.that’ : was close to being & compliment. She pointed an imaginary revoiver. “When you say tha-a-t, smile,” she. &lvld. They -got off to a good start.. Nothhulnppnnedtomrmmn&yd their .companicnship for weelks, - Mrs. . Halliday - had been right. There was very. little suitable Mmmummwm Wtwgl via - < - the. moon and all . . . - Eduard.” Slov'lyshedrevnmy.butsfilld\e -wonfldn’tlooknthim 3 for Peter. He was content to spend much of his time with Ursul2; to laugh with her— and, more often, at her—to ride and swim with her; and wrangle just often enough to keep things from getiing monotonous. It was aflter he had been at Lake Tahoe a mcnth that Peter suddenly found himself taking a keener delight in Ursula's presence than would seem to have been in keeping with the tranquil enjoyment of mere good fcllowship, In vain did hz remind himself of former romantic fiascos. It was no use. This indif- ferent slip of a girl, this lithe, selfish, gray- eyed child had turned the trick. “I wonder,” said Ursula one day shortly after hec had made this astounding discovery. “I wonder if you are really as good a friend of minc as you appear to be.” \ In view cf his sentimental inclinations, this remark produced & smile. “Deon’'t laugh at me, Peter. I'm singularly untrusting. Young, but cynlnl—the cynicism of extreme youth. . This time Peter roared. “Don’t fool yourself,” he said, “you're ri- ‘diculous, " with the ridiculousness of extreme youth! Go on.” “Passing lightly over your feeble crack, Peter, IT'm in love. I'm engaged. I'm going to be married! And,” she hesitated, dramatically, “I need help.” When Peter had mllecud himself she went on, “Why do you suppose Mother didn't take me abroad? Because she found out that Eduard planned on meetting us in Paris, and my whole family is trying to break up our affair. They don't approve, you see. Something about his being older and Fréench. and a bit on the roue side. if you get what I mean.” “Don’t worry, I get it,” interrupted Peter. “Why you poor, absurd, little sap, it's not Eduard who thrills you, it's the ccntinental glamour. It's the family's opposition. It's Ursula had risen. In all her dignity she looked about 12 years old. “All right, Peter. All right— Peter reached out and caught hér arm. They stood facing each other. Peter's head was thrown back a little, like a charger smelling powder and hearing the sound ¢f distant guns. “Sit doewn, Ursula,” he said, smoo,my and the battle was onl. - “I'l mail your letter:,” he agreed, after they had talked a while, “because you'd bribe some- one else to do it if I didn't. And you can tell him to address his letters to me. I think you're crazy, of course., and I'm going to talk you out of this before the end of the Summer.” But Peter didn’t do so much talking: instead he worked on the the:ry that actions speak loucer than words, and if ever a young man made himself agreeabie, attractive and indis- pensable—that young man was Peter Halliday. After about two-wecks he tried her out. “How zm I measliring up wlth that Prmeh men of yours; UrStula?” “Why, you're nite, Peter,” she said, in “the most comradely way imagihable. “You're “very Peter took out a cigarette, lit it, and then’ put it out again. “I may have heard a more compietely damn- ing statement “befcre,”” he remsrked, “but I don't -remember when.” He let another week go by: and then, about the middle of August, there came one ¢f those evenings you read about. “This is the kind of a night,” said Peter to Ursula, “when all young ladies in love with distant foreign gentlemen should climb into bed and pull the covers up over their ears. Come out on the ‘lake with me, Ursula.” They walked down to the bost house and Peter- handed her into the front seat of his own s boat, a lovely craft. In the mooniight, Ursula’s pink chiffon dress paled to a warm flesh tone, melted into the color of her throat and arms. Pecter looked at her long and longingly. RSULA turned away; dabbled her fingers in the jet black water. She would not look at him. Peter shut off the engine. “I love you, Ursula,” said Peter, softly; and he kissed her shoulder first and then her throat, pressed his face, for a moment, against her hair and then brushed his lips, slowly, across her cheek until they reached her mouth. It wasn't un¢il he had cried: “Ursula!” in a - chocked sort of voice, had kissed her again, and been kissed by her, that he remembered the ghostly fear that had accompanied him— almost subconsciously—on this ride. i “Ursula,” he repeated, “you heavenly thing” - —and he smiled.because he could see the ghost .uut.h.dfdlondhlmaom-nyymmnk - mournfully .away. 3 "Nowlookdmz.ndhllueywm—n one else!”’ > There was & paule Then: .. “But, I—don't you see, Peter,” came her eunll. muffied voice. “I—it must have been and being lonely for " “That isn't 50, saii Peter firmly. L~ #Yes it is and being out of his.srme.she . THF SUNDAY ?TAR V\’»\\HI “Peter!” 'she fairly screamed at him. “You can’t do this crazy thing!” - becam>’ more sure of herself. “Peter! Don't be old-fashioned. Don’t you know rnough about. human nature to realize that “Shut up, Angel!: You love me. You couldn't have u:wd me that way if you didn’t!” & Gve us modern maidens cred- it, . Mére “have you been all this time? "" a “Around, you little fool—I've been around.” “Well, you act pretty cloistered to me!” “Cloisttred, eh? Cloistered?” He kissed her . again. After she had caught her breath she con- tinued: “This has gone far enough. You seem to forget that I am engaged to be married, and that .you are behaving rather likc a—a cad.” “Sorry, Ursula,” said Peter shorily, and he headed the little craft for home. The next morning at breakfast, Ursula— talkative and jaunty in a primrose linen frock —gave not the slightest intimation that any- thing unustal had occurred. There was a fal lctter in Peter's pocket from E. de Courcy Ravelle, 14 Faubourg Saint Ger- main (grudgingly he admitted _the good ad- dress) and he was sorely tempted to destroy it, read it. answer it insultingly or do anything, in fact, rather than hand it over to the girl he was trying to wia for himself. In spite of his perplexities, however, he was not unhappy. He had his old war-horse ex- pression, and he didn't admit defeat for one minute. Under that star-studded sky. he had thought Ursula rcally loved him, and yet he had only desired her the more. The old ghost— the Curse of a Granted Prayer—had dis- appeared. --“Has anybody seen the mail?” inguired Ursula, with extreme casualness. Peter could have wrung her neck. HEN lunch was over, she resd him ex- cerpts from: Bduards letter.« She-was giving him—Peter Halliday! Ban vi- vant! Pride of the Jeunesse d'Oree!—a les- son in the genue art of making Jove, “‘——when I remember the touch of your hand., your hair—tossed by the wind—against my cheek——'" Her listener sighed. “All we need now is a little incidental music——" “‘——when I think of the slender, fragrant whiteness of you——'" “ ‘Whiteness!" He ought to see you now!"” Ursula, not mahogany colored, like Peter, but a lovely golden tan, glanced up from the finely written blue sheets. She looked actually pained. “‘——fragrant whiteness of you that is soon to be wholly mine——'" “Good Lord!” Peter thrashed out with his arms in a wide sort of frantic gesture. “The man’s a—swine, a—libertine! I won't——" ™You won't what, Peter?” And he said: ‘Have it!” in such a chipped, silly way, that she laughed at him. It was the last straw. With that gay. squeaky laugh of hers she had taken all the jest, the adventure, out of How “Old Hickory” ) lade France \'ERSHADOW!NG in world inter- est and even apprehension, what- ever President Rocsevelt may do “in ‘purely domiestic problems, will be his course in respect to inter- national debts, particularly 4the phase brought to a head by the refusal of France to make the payment on its war debt to the United States which fell due last December. Mr. Roosevelt has taken a stand for the sanctity of treaties in general. France has kept up its propsganda designed to compel negotiations looking to reducing the amount of its indebtedness. And so the matter rests for the moment. But in the hiatus thus breught about students of American diplomnacy have been finding illuminating contrasts between the present impasse and a similar situation a century ago. The chief figure then also was a Democrat. and som= are wondering whether history will repeat itself in the handling of the problem of 1933. Upon the former occasion also France de- faulted, temporarily, upon an acknowledged indebtedness to this country. Doughty Andrew Jackson, then at the 2enith of his .colorful career in the White House, was the hero of the drama which coveréd several years in its unfoldment, finally triumphing characteris- tically over his foes at home and abroad and bringing about payment by France of its obli- gation to the letter of its treaty obligations. At that moment, in the opinion of some stu- dents, the prestige of. American diplomacy ac- quired a potency which has “endured to ths day. The amount involved a - century .ago—five million dollars—seems trifling in comparison with the sums at stake in the impending et- forts of -Uncle Sam to induce his debtors to honor their signatures, but thc simple principle upheld at that time unquestionably laid much of the foundation of respect for the rights ot this then infant Republic. Before this happy consummation, however, relations between ihe + two governments were serjously strained. HE French debts ‘to America of 100 ye.ars ago _represented claims for spoliation of American shippirg under Napoleon's” decrees of Milan and Berlin, and consisted of seizures of - American merchantmen in ports ccntrolied by * the.French Emperor for alléeged violations of . the paper blockade he; had. deejared. These ' BY "WILLL: claimns dated back to 1815, and, similar omes of European powers lng since having been - liquidated, ‘the United States could not fall to feel the :ting of discrimination. Accordingly, when in 1829 Jaeksom -sent W. C. Rives -of Virginia to Paris as the new American Minister, he carried instructicns to negotiate a tresty providing for payment of the debt. Rives encountersd many ob:-tacles in his dealings. with the new Polignac ministry. He kept patiently at hi: task. however,” and on July 4, 1831, a treaty providing for payment of the $5.000.000 in six annual instaliments was signed. A reducticn in the American- tariff cn Prench wines was included as this -Govern- ment’s concessien. It was a notable victory for the diplomacy of the young Republic of the Néw ‘World. but was not enough ‘cf iteelf to settle the issue. Prance was on the eve of the revouticn which sent Charles X into exile and placed Louis Philippe on the throne. The treaty was nct popular in France. The times were ‘troubled. In short, France neglected to carry out its promise to pay. In the Fall of 1333 the American Setmry of State, Edward Living tcn, was appointed Minister at Paris, with perticular instructions to press fcr a settiement of the debt. * hiving- ston was warmly welcomed by the King be- cause of financial and other assistance Louis Philippe had received from his father, Robert R. Livingston, when the future king was a penniless exi'e n this ccuntry. But this friend- ship was not erough to elicit the payment. The historisn Buell write. : “He got everything his heart could wish— except - the money. For a year and a half ensued a queer madley of misunder:tandings, cross-purpcses and contretemps. France could nct grasp the Jacksonian idea of diplomacy any more than J:ckcn cculd ocomprehend the French idea. Matters drifted on from bad to worse until finally Jackson sent a me:sage to Congress which he understocd_to embody merely an assyrance of ‘firm attitude on the part of the United States,” but which, when published in Paris, 'deeply wounced the :usceptibilities of France.' What J\od happened was this: The King and ministry had professed themaglves seady to pay. but the Chamber had blocked them by refusing to appropriate the necessary funde. 'With the Chambers, of ccurse, Living ton could not nego- tiate. He concluded, therefore, that only a show of force wculd prove effective. Such a tuggestion was. hardly needed’ by :Old” Hickory