Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, March 15, 1903, Page 26

PR P —— THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: SUNDAY, MARCH 15. 1903. FLOWER O' e | gone. CHAPTER X, 1 A Woman's Wits, Yvette Foy watched Maurice leave the terrace where they had stood so close | together beneath the blossoming purple eréepers with a smile on her face that was by no means affected. All was not lost because the first coup had somewhat mis earried. She had, however, sufficient knowl- | edge of men to make no further attempt that night It is true that th smile on her face was | & bitter one. And as she betook herself to her needlowork aid her book the twin | scarlet lips were compressed more tightly | than usual, and there was a certain herd and fixed look about her great dark eyes. “A minute before I did not care about him at all,” she murmured to herself, “and 1 do not now. I have other things to live for. But, of all people in the world, she shall not take him from me Round a strect corner came the far- beard chant of the child mourners, the clear volce still lsading it, a heavenly in- | atrument such as angels might blow upon. Yvette shrugged her shoulders disdain. ! tully. ! “She does it for effect,” she murmured. “The days have been when 1 have done as | much myself (she emiled at the remem- | | brance). Aye, ond may again, If that is| the way the wind blows. It s chants Mtaniés, I can sing psalms. She has made s0 they a captive of Jean Cavaller the new prophet—the ex-baker's boy of| Geneva, who has come among us to de. Iver Isracl from the hands of the Phil- istines!" It 1s impossible to express the fierce bit terness with which the girl spoke. There | was a gleam almost of madness in hes eye—the revolt of a keen and haughty | epirit against surroundings more hateful | to it than death. | Yet to do her justice it wae only when! such an one as Maurice Raith came in her way that Yvette Foy let herself go. She bad a philosophy of her own in this as in all things. £he had too great a contempt | for the Camisard peasants who surrounded | her, in spite of the fact that their midnight marches and sudden assaults were making | all Europe ring with their fame, to lift so | much as an eyelash upon them. Not even | young Jean Cavaller, handsome, wiee, courtly, polished, coula move her. | “I have the misfortune to be born of! the peasant's party,” she sald, “but there |she sald, ‘“‘the trick of it is too easy. For a I8 no need that I should mix with them. 1| will pray with them, watch with then, en- dure long sermcns with them. But I will not love them, talk with them, hold com- | radeship with them. And doubtless in good time there is a way out. If nmot by this young Englishman, why by another!" | Yvette had a secret storehouse of books | locked safely away in an empty escritoire— ( books which had been sent her by Eugenie 1a_Gracleuse, her friend of the Parisian school. This private library included among others the “Grand Cyrus,” “Clelie™ and the latest volumes cf the dictionary of Bayle—strange books to be found in the escritolre of a Camisard girl in a village standing upon its defenses in the wilds of the Cevennes. From these she had learned the lan- guage of Marly and Versailles. Though still to outward eppearance a poor girl, her mind dwelt constantly with dukes and princes. Shé walked the narrow corridors of the Bon Chretien as if they had been the halls of the hotel de Rambouillet itself. 10 do her.justice, however, it was not the nature of Yvette Foy to sit down and cry over the spilling of milk. On the con- trary, she would serenely betake herself to the work of preparing another. 8o Yvette sat musing upon the young Englishman who had left her. She bore him no malice for his sudden departure. “Well, better luck next time,” she had sald with a shrug of her shoulders. “You can. hardly expect to win every trick of the game, pretty Mistress Yvette. But no more will the Milk-and-Water girl—that 18 one comfort." For so she named Flpwer-o'-the-Sorn as often as she thought of her. She hummed a gay, careless tune learned in Parls;. “Shall 1 go carry a hymn book, sing Ims, take short steps demurely, abase 0, T could P mine eyes upon the ground? do it. Yes, I have done it before,” so she meditated, “and if I judge rightly, these things are not what this young man loves —a firm grip of the hand, a bold meeting eye, not tco forward, but as a man to a suman. These will take him, so be that he i worth' the: taking. She smiled as she saw, looking out at the window, Maurice Raith stride away across the little open square of the village and round the newly rebullt fortifications of the Knights Templar. He walked fast, a8 if he would thus disengage himse f trom troublesome thoughts. 3 Yvette laughed, a little low laugb ail to herself, ,very pleasant to hear, it was so full of good humor and mirthful apprecia- tion of the circumstances. “He must walk fast who would get Away from that infection!" she murmured. “Yes," she sald, “I am sure of him. He 18 too much a man of action to care very long for milk and water.” Her 'father entered at this moment, sldling uncertainly toward a chalr, as it he had rce & right to a seat in his own bouse. “Well, Martin Foy,” sald his daughter, without raising her head from her work or taking the trouble to conceal the book which lay open upon the writing table be- | fore her, “what news today of the won- drous baker's boy? Hath his excellency General Jean Cavaller defeated all the | marshals of France and smashed his bread oven with their batons? The old Camisard shook his head som- berly. “Yvette, Yvette," he said in a volce had been saddened with the singing of | shredded the petals ome from the other psalms and a manner chastened by habitual self-repression before the prophets and chiefs of his faith, “when will you learn 1o speak well of men great and holy? Waen will your hard heart be touched?" “Pshaw!" cried the girl, “can you not see, father, they are all mouthing fools! I am sad end angry to stand by and see you, my father, giving your hard earned sub- atance to such fanatics. What dbes Catinat know of any. Shilo) I am_ grieved for you, my dsughter, sald her father sadly, “for if ye do thes things In the green tree, what will you do in the dry? Nay, I have spoken con- cerning you to Jean Cavalier himselft—"" The girl looked up for the first time. ber flushing pomegranate red under her dusky skin, her white teeth a mere Mne between har indrawn lps, ber great eyes bright and dry with anger. “You take too much on you, Martin Foy," sbe sald sharply and bitterly. “I have nothing to do with them, mark me; mo— nor with your boasted Jean Cavalier him- self, though I grant you that, in spite of his baker's oven, he is a bird of another teat] . » /" As the words left the girl's lips & young By S. R. CROCKETT. - SS (Copyright, 1902, by 8. R. Orockert,) |as a veteran soldier, who had worsted great | to alter | volley. | higher tribunal, and, as It were, stand be- THE CORN, in his dull eyes. The resigned manner with which he had listened to his daughter was Cavalier,” he cried, “Jean Cavaller! You do this house an honor! My daughter, rise and bid the greatest of our prophets and leaders welcome! General of the army of the Lord, the younger Gideon our host, my daughter bids you welcome The girl rose with a haughty and con- temptuous gesture, her eyes still flashing angry fire. She swept the young man a courtesy, to which he responded with an equal austerity—not too much and not too little, yet marking as a man of breeding might do M recognition af the unfriendli- ness of his reception and als intention not in any way to presume “I Am no general,” he said in a volce sin- gularly low and pleasant, “and you name me rightly, Martin Foy, when you call me simply Jean Cavalier. As you know, there are no titles among ys, the Brethren of the Way." The girl stood still, her train circled proudly about her, her head thromn back, regarding him. But Jean Cavaller bore her scrutiuy unabashed, yet with a singular, sweet modesty natural to the man. There was something altogether very winning about the youth. It was difficult indeed to reconcile the boyishness of his face, the crisp curls about his small, well formed head, the blush that came and went upon his cheek, the slight, dark, downy moustache on his lip, with the reputation which he already possessed all over Europe marshals, ‘past masters of war, and who had compelled the court of Versailles itself its methods of dealing with the contemed rebel peasants of the Cevenes. But of all this the daughter of Martin Foy recked nothing “Has it beca a good season for vislons?" sald Yvette Foy, keeping her great eyes jteadfastly fixed upon the young man betore er. Jean Cavaller did not blush. Neither did he seem put out even for a moment. Stead- ily he gave the girl back eye volley for eye “The comirg of the vision or the going of it,” ‘he said with dignity, “it {s not mine to hasten or delay. When the Lord has work for his people he will make bare his arm!" The girl made a quick little gesture of in- finite contempt. 0, do not weary me—I know the jargo: comfortable salary I could be a prophetess myself.” “1 think if you will consider the deeds which God has been pleased to do by me since he brought me hither you will admit that the Spirit of the Lord hath not alto- gether spoken in vain “You bave beaten General Argenton, and the poor old brigadier, San Privat,” she said bitterly, “and what of that? Is a regiment more or less aught to the master of armies? Shall Louls the King be less the king for a score of such victories?" ot less, but more,” sald Jean Cavaller gently; “moreover, it has been revealed to me that one day I shail stand before Louls the King and not be ashamed! The king is till the king, and we hold ourselves his subjects all the more that we resist the persecuters who have blinded his eycs and led him astray.” “An hour or two ago,” she sald, “I saw a company of those loyal subjects of yours, General Cavaller, dragging a cannon into the village. Was it perchance to fire lutes in honor of his Majesty's birthday?" Jean Cavaller smiled, almost the sweet smile of a child. “I had not thought that his Majesty had 50 whole-hearted an advocate within these walls,"” he sald kindly; “Martin Foy, we must be careful before whom we talk our secrets!"" Then he turned to Yvette Foy, and walking straight up to her, he lald his hand on her wrist. There was nothing of fa- millarity in the action, yet the girl winced and then stood stonily still. “Listen,” he sald in a low, even tone characteristic of him. “I have a message for you also, Mistress Yvette Foy. We of the folk called Camisards are no untriepds to the King—only to the priests and those who take the name of the king's authority in vain. We will obey him, save In the matter of our consclences—save in the things wherein we have appealed to a fore Caesar! Let this remain in your mind. Wor the present I hold no further word ‘with you!" He /ed his hand from the girl's ‘eturned to herself with a kind before she could speak the 2% o d bowed as formally as be- ”‘fi, ped her foot In hot anger. “So that'is his power,” she sald, “and he would make me feel it—me—who con- temh and des all his prating crew. Well, wait—wait! There is this day and an- other day after this. He also is a young man, and, though he is et in his will magie, I will break his will, and his magic, both of them. He shall crawl like a worn on the ground before me ere all be done. 1 also have a magic older and simpler than he dreams of. He can cast his glamor on these ignorant peasants, mud- stained from the turrow. He can sway the listening assembly. I have heard him-— breath—breath—the power of the spoken word—the thrill of personality that passes out from a man—others do great things because he wills it. I have seen it, and I know. But just because the power goes trom him, he is left weak. All the more that he binds thousands to his will, he shall not be able to resist mine. Ah, Jean Cavaller—I will teach you to set your hand on the wrist of Yvette Foy. You I will take with the strong hand!" She plucked at the growing greenefy of the balcony where she had sat with the young Englishman. A epray of purple creeper came away in her hand. She | and dropped them over the iron bars. “So—s0 will 1 do with the soul of Jean Cavaller, because he hath tried to humble me, according to the power that is glven to me, 1 will cause bis prophecies to ces I will shut his soul to the invisible. I will make him even as other men—he, who calls himself the leader of many. And at the last I will give him ashes in his mouth —even apples of Sodom—exceeding bitter fruit! b As she spoke she broke into a trill of laughter. “I declare,” she sald, “I caught the twang. knowlng It." . . e sl $% Wit a0 And without, upon the irregular pave- ment of the little stret, two men met and greeted each other. They were Maurice Raith, still in his wagoner bloyse. He uncovered dpd stood humbly betshe Jean have quite I am preaching without ing carelessly into the' distance. “'Bring your servant with you to my rooms. 1 think he speaks no French. We sball ar- range all then. And he will keep the door. He can be trusted ? “That 1 warrant!" sald Plerre, the wag- oner, grimly. “God pity 1he man that rune up against Billy with a sword in his hand and a door to keep!" And abovethem out of the high balcony of the anclent Templar's house the dark eyes of Yvette Foy looked after them “Men.are such self-important ninn 0 ahe summed up her experfences. ‘““Their bubbles are blown so thin that they need no pricking! They burst of themselves. As it everyone with brains did not know that these two were arranging a rendez- yous! And at his excellency, General Cava- ller's quarters, doubtless. They would not dare to come here. No (she laughed aloud), not here!" She stepped back quickly as Jean Cava- lter, as if drawn by the power of her eyes, turned suddenly and looked back towards the window. CHAPTER XI. The Judas Tree Lets Fall a Blossom. Durifig these days at La Cavalerie, Flower-o'-the-Corn went about with a sweet, amiling graclousness which won all | upon with shut the book and descended the Martin Foy, the Camisard, loved some of ruipit stairs without giving utterance to |these natural things also, she loved them a single word Patrick Wellwood when Yvette entered cated at Geneva Here he had learned French of that notable fluency and vigor which can only be attained in youth. Be. side which he had spent by far the greater part of his life abroad, and so it that he could speak to the Camisards of the Cevennes in their own language with all the vigor and point with which he ad- dressed the Presbyterian veterans of Ard- millan’s regiment Flower-o'-the-Corn’s eyes were fixed the father. She did not even ob- serve that Jean Cavalier had placed him- self directly at right angles to her, side by side with Roland and Catanat in a place which had come to be reserved for the elders and prophets of the Camisard peo- ple. She had only thought of the com- mander-in-chief of the Camisard forces as a young man who had shown himself will- stood In the pulpit He had been edu | ing to be kind and helpful to her father upon more than one occasion. And this counted for much with Flower-o'-the-Corn, So much so, indeed, that she gave the young man a grateful nod and smile when he returned from conducting the old man to the pulpit, which he did with a sweet otherwise. She refoload In the because in it her bding expanded. The very tissues of her bond changed with a sense of physical enlargeraent and well belng. She hated the wintar, but when at last the spring cawne and the 1¥a juice made the world new, Yvette had strauge thrill ings and impulses through her hedy she, too, were kin to all that bo greenery and pink blossoming orcharde But she rejoiced 4n them merely as a part of the necessary . well being of the world—the warm-aired, full-blooded gusio of things of which she had her part as creature who loved eating and drinking and lying long warm abed, as others love ing truth and self-sacrifice and the word of God Thus it was with these two who were now to face each other in the warm, pery glow of the little market place, across which the early morning shadows still lay long and blue. At the stalls there were not many things cop- to be sold—no great choice for the good wives of La Cavalerie—a lamb or two from the Causses, long-legged and spare of rib, eggs in plenty, with late fruits and vegetables. The women sat crouched on their heels by their baskets or with e I u’hmll U!; : Il “LOOK! LOOK!" SHE WHISPERED, EAGERLY TO FLOWER-0'-THE CORN. hearts—all, that is—or nearly all. Her father's lodgings were (as we know) in one of the old towers which overlooked the Templar gates. Opposite to them In the corresponding tower which eompletes the other wall lived Jean Cavalier, all alone, as a prophet should. But for all that there was much coming and going between the two towers of the gateway. For Patrick Wellwood, though making po professions to be a prophet, was rapldly obtaining a spiritual influence over the Camisards of the Causses second only to that of Jean Cavalier himself. Meanwhile Flower-o'-the-Corn. went her ways from door to door, not as a duty, but because she genuinely loved all people of every rank, and was interested in their af- fairs. It was thus that she had entered the household of one Joseph Moreau, rn old soldier like Foy, the innkeeper, and a former companion of his in the regiment of grenadie: Like Foy, this man had been touched with the strong teaching of obedl- ence to impulse contained in the teaching of the Camisards. But, unlike Foy, he had come to the village of La Cavalerie to marry, and had there espoused a young girl still in her ‘“teens.” The little white- wrapped figure was their first child, born but a day or two before, and already wafted from the sight, as If after a trial it had found the great world some deal too rough. Frances Wellwood's pity for the forlorn child-mother showed readily in her eyes. It was that, more than the act of carrying the babe to the tomb, that bound these two to her. These two women had never met till the morning after the day of Maurive's arrival in the camp. The little town of La Cava- lerie was not at that time so closely shut up as to prevent a daily market being still held in the little square. It was there after the daily service among the white-capped vendors of fowls and vegetables that Yvette Foy for the first ‘ime encountered Frances Wellwood face to face and held speech with her. It was not often that Yvette betook herself thither, either to kirk or market For the most part she left the provend- ering of the “Bon Chretien” to her father sad the kitchen servants. But on this occasion she had deigned to accompany her father to the church for an early service, in order as she sald to hear whether this new preacher from Geneva had more to say for himself than their own prophets who rambled among the texts of scripture like unbroken colts in a fleld of clover. But Yvette Foy's chief desire in visit- ing the church at an hour so unusual was to take up a position in the vieinity of Plower-o'-the-Corn and study her rival as attentively as might be without drawing attention upon herself. This she managed to carey out without dificulty. The Camisard church of La Cavalerie was a plain, oblong building, dsting from' the old wars of religion in the middle of the sixteenth century. There was then no reserving the places. Hach brought his own folding chair or, in most cases knelt upon the cold floor in time. of prayer. | and stood like soldiers at atteation during sermon. At the first glance Yvette had noted where Flower-o'-the-Corn bad placed her- self, which as was usual with her, was Cavalier, who nodded slightly in acknow! edgment of the salutation. ““When shall we go over the papers to- man entered lightly, doffed his hat with a low bow Lo Yvette, and stood as it he had tidings to er. Martin Foy leaped to his feet with & light gether?" sald one.. “There is the ren- dezvous near Cette to arrange for, and the time is short," It was the wagoner who spoke, humbly, as If he pleaded some favor of quarters or victuals. “Tomorrow night!" sald the other, look- immediately beneath her father. For the old man, wrapt In some great meditation of his own, occusionally needed to be re- minded where he was and what was ¢x- pected of him. On more than oue occa- sion he had given out: his text, and then standing & moment to collect his theughts, had gradually become 80 entranced by the noble thoughts which the words of scrip- ture suggested to him, that he had forth- | | and humble dignity that became him no little. It chanced that Yvette Foy arrived in the church just in time to intercept the glance and to watch the blood spring hot and responsive to the young soldier's cheek. There was another who had observed the byplay—a dark-skinnel youth in a wide blue blouse who stood near a pillar at fhe door. To him Yvette Foy turned with a bitter smile upon her liph. But he did not even obsegve her. His eyes were else- where, even upon the fair face of Frances Wellwood, now uplifted, as like a flower turns to the sun, when her father began to speak. And Yvette smiled a tolerant smile as she looked. “Was it possible,” she thought, that she should have feared to take count and reckoning with such a babe? Then with her deep fold of lace drawn clceely about her shapely head and recrossed over her bosom, she turned her head and néck this way and that, thinking no more of the sonorous words of the preacher than she would of the roar of the wind in the lime-stone caves of Mont Ventour, or the surge of a breaking sea upon a distant shove. About her head she had wound e thin vell of finest lace, which contained and conditioned, though it did not conceal her haughtily splendid hair. She knew that her forehesd was bright and broad beneath it, her lps were marvelously red. There was no one like her in all the hills of Cevenne from Mende to Beziers. O, yes— the red-and-white stranger girl she had seen—she knew this Frances Wellwood She would go and walt for her in the market place. The damask rose is not afraid of the scentless immortelfe. So she rose unceremoniously in the midst of the sermon, laid her stool against a pillar, and with the air and carriage of a queen, passed serenely out into -the hot sudden caressing of the sunlight, venting a great sigh of relief as the fresh warmth of the forenoon, breathed upon her face. The true spirit of Yvette Foy returned to her as soon as ehe had left the dark morning heaviness of the little church be- hind her. Glooms and fervors of the spiritual sort she had none about her, and, indeed, she recognized such in others only as useful factors In the game she loved to play. . With all her bright cleverness, with her knowledge of men, books and women, in epite of the glimpses she bad had of an- other life, the base of her nature Was essen- tially a desire for the physical well-being of an animal. Herein lay the difference between the two girls. Flower-o'-the-Corn loved everything in nature. It was all fair and sweet to her—ths green, waving fodder- grass with the wind passing over it In swirls and waves of color changeful as the sheen on shot silk—the keen verditer of the bltter artemisia, the barbaric brill‘ance of pomegranate blossom splashed scarlet against & turquoise sky. These seemed part of herself. They made her life vivid That she lived on plain camp fare—that she had done so all her days and never expected to do otherwise, detracted nothing from the pleasure she felt in being with her father, in making him happy, and in addening with ready graciousness all whose lives came across hers. Every blown blade of grass on the meadow leas, every head of sorrel sowing its rlain song russe: seeds, every ascendant gossamer with Its little al:-borne fraveler, was part of the eternal gladness of life to Flower-o'-the Corn. These things were as parts of her deepest religion, and she prattled of them gally to her fatber, who did not even shake his head. Now, though Yvette, the daughter of | Foy, thelr small stores outspread regularly on the ground—onions, leeks, garlic, potatoes ranged side by side, while a calf, tied in- securely to a cart wheel, bleated for the comparative freedom of the rough-legged lambkin, which in reality was to dle as soon as he. Praise to the Hollest in the 'Height, And in the depths be praise! From the little Camisard temple came the chant, weighty and solemn. The mar- ket women inclined their heads with will- ing reverence. They were all “of the way,” and would gladly have been pres- ent, but—what would you? The pot at home must be boiled and who but they in these times could win the wherewithal to t the worshipes were coming out. Martin Foy came out last of all, lingering a little on the threshold for a word with the old man, who looked not a little gray and weary after preaching. But Martin Foy, though a disciple both willing and attentive, lost his grip even of the divine decres, at the sight which met his eyes in the warm slantwise pour of the sunlight. There in the little Grande place of La Cavalerie, the sun shining equally upon the sentinels, on the whlls and on the market women, sitting like brooding henms in the white dust aong the western wall, in the . midst of a silence like hat of Eden, there had happened a thing which was to affect the lives and happiness of all those with whom this history concerns itself far more than the decisions of cabinets and the suc- cessions of great kingdoms. Of her own accord, Yvette Foy had crossed the road and was holding out her hand to Frances Wellwood. It was near the great door of the Hon Cretien, and as these two stood thus, hand- in-hand, the Judas tree in the courtyard, wind-stirred, flung down a last belated blossom, red as the lips which in the morn- ing sunshine smiled their sweetest upon Flower-o'-the-Coru. She took Yvette's hand and smiled also. CHAPTER XIL The Spy Hole on the Stairway. “I have heard of your great kindness to our poor folk,” sald Yvette Foy, her hand still warm within her new friend's grasp, “and my heart was touched when I saw you carry the poor dead babe yesterday trom the house of Anna Moureau!" Flower-o'-the-Corn blushed, and then suddenly smiled at the newcomer brightly and 'cordially. “It was kind of them to let a stranger do 80 much,” she sald. And then, changing the subject, she added: *You are Mistress are you not, the daughter of the hostler who has spoken so kindly to my tather at the preachings?" I am indeed Yvette Foy,” the girl an- swered, “and one much honored to make your acquaintance. Why have we mot ere this seen you at our poor house of the Bon Cretien? “Because—because—'" sald Frances, her tace breaking into a slow smile, “in my country it is the custom to wait for an invitation before setting foot across one's neighbor’s threshold."” “But my father tells me be has often in- vited yours to sup with us!" persisted Yvette. Flower-o'-the-Corn looked slightly dis- ed. 1 had not tr thought——" she began, and then stopped; “that is, I had not supposed you would wish to see me!" “And why, pray? Someone has been tell- iog tales." nshine s it But taletelling, even In I of telling on the taleteller, w to Flower-o'-the-Corn mildest form impossible 1 “I heard,"she sald artlessly, ‘“‘that you laughed aloud in her turn. Yvette Foy You will not tell me who told you," she sald. “It is you who are clever, and I did not know f{t!" “0, 1 am not | Frances, simply. clever at all," returned 1 have only followed my | father from city to city and from camp to | canp. 1 know only men." | “In her inner heart Yvette thought that [ to know men was not the least to be de { 8ired of accomplishments, but she did not say s0. She onfy drew her arm through her The two girls walked apart from the crowd of the market p smiling and conversing never aeen Such a pair for loveliness was together- corn flower and the and black diamond. | Pity me,”" | mother—— | “Nor 1" Frances answered with a quick | sigh, instinctively drawing hor new friond | to her. "1 know--at times it is hard for a girl. Do you remember hor?" “Yes, truly,” sald Yvette,” she held my | father from this folly of his while she llived. And when she dled—then it was he sent me to school In Parls—to be out of his way “Ah,” sald Frances reproachtully, “do not speak thus of your father—it he is all that is left to you, as mine fs! And be- sides, my father says he is a good man.’ Yvette laughed a little laugh, very deep in her throat. “Yes," she sald scornfuly doubtless—that fair and passion flower, dark. | companion‘s with a smiling, happy air. | | | pearl sald Yvette; “I have no “a good man 18 to be some one else's father. It 1s very well for you, my fair lady, who go Gut everywhere into the world 6f men with your father, seeing new lands and the faces of new folk and brave soldiers, and great men—very easy for you to prate to Yvette Foy of fathers!" Nay, nay," sald Flower-o'-the-Corn, blushing, “I know what you mean very well, but, indeed, it is not so. There is no man anywhere, in highland or lewland, mountain or isle, whose company I would prefer to that of my father!" “Then the more fool you, with such chancea!” murmured Mistress Yvette, under her breath. But aloud she said, pat- ting Flower-o‘~the-Corn's delicately round arm on which her hand was lying. “Ah, one day, my dear! There is a ship coming to you over the sea. The salls of it are samile and the masts pure gold, as the old story tells, and its burden is love—love—-love!" “I suppose love for a woman?" said Frances, looking at her winsomely under her eyelashes, “since you fright me such dreadful things of men.” She sighed. “Yes, they have been very kind to me— some of them,” she sald reflectively, “and —and I have not always been very kind to them.” “That is the to you,” sald the volee of experience, be at the first & little unkind.” Yvette thought a little and then added: “Afterward not—they tire of it sooner than the other."” Then catching & little fear on the flush- ing face of Frances Wellwood, Yvette put her hand tenderly about the girl's neck. “You need not fear, little one, with tuch a face as yours and those great fatal eyes- love will come to you fresh every morning across the years, be you kind or be you unkind!" A figuro passed across the Grande place, going in the direction of the Aubefge of the “Bon Chretien.” “Who is that?" said Flower-o'-the-Corn, quickly, for a certain martial swing was erting itselt even through the blue blouse, the corduroy breeches and booded cape of Plerre the wagoner. Yvette patted her cheek again. “Ah, dearest,” she said, most caressingly, you cannot expect your ship to come to anchor up here among these wild hills. That 16 but Plerre the wagoner from Flanders, he whose barrels were ran- cked the other night by our good, honest tant village—" fest way to bind a man to and the cannon?” sald Frances. there—out on the Causses that night. He— he has never thanked me for saving his lite! I should like to see him again.” “Better perhaps that you should not,” said Yvetie in a low tone. “And why?" cried Frances, with a.kind of catch In her volce. “There are things which it is not fitting for a girl to hear,” sald Yvette, still with her eyes upon the ground. ‘‘Remember, 1 am older than you, Mistress Wellwood!" Flower-o'-the-Corn turned instantly upon Yvette Foy and held her tightly by the wrist, looking into her fac You must tell me now.” she sald, ear- nestly. “I am no child. I have heard how men speak to men. He came once and my father bade him return. He will re- furn. Why, then, should I not speak with him?" The dark girl looked every way about. “It {s not safe to speak out here,” she murmured. “Come to my room and I will tell you." Really she only meant to gain time. She must fatally prejudice the young man in the regard of Flower-o'the-Corn, and to this end she had made certain arrange- ments. There was a private entrance to the Tem- plar's house, by means of a low door in a little side street leading into a little eir- cular tower in which was & stalr. By this the girls presently ascended. At one point there was a little spyhole, through the inner wall, vhich gave imme- diately Into the stable. Dsvore this Yvette stopped. Suddenly she clapped her hands lightly together. This had fallen out beyond her expectation. Seeing and belleving being one, there was the less need of explanatory speech. “Look—look!"” she whispered eagerly to Flower-o'-the-Corn. With something that made her ashamed in her heart, yet for the present with no power to resist, Frances looked. There, {mmediately beneath, were—not Plerre the Wagoner as she had expected, but—the two strangers whom she had seen at the taking of the wagons out on the moonlit plain— a man and a woman. They engaged in brushing and refolding a military suit of clothes. It was to all appearance the same which Billy Marshall had saved with | jealous care out of the sick king's wagons, and the pair did their work as it well ac- customed to the task. “See,” said Yvette Foy, with a deep kind of silent triumph, “there, all unexpectedly, 1s the proof of what I brought you here to tell you. The man who owns that comes among us poor Cevennols as a traltor With the quick eye of one who has lived all her life aomng soldlers, Frances saw that the garments, which were now being swiftly folded and put away, constituted an officer’s uniform of the Maison du Roi, or King's guard, of the French army. (To be contiued.) More Truth Than Humor. “At what time does the 9:20 train get in?' asked the commercial traveler jocs ularly, of the ticket agent at Hexbam's Corners. “About noon,” feplied the official. And it proved that there was more truth then humor in his reply, the said train having a habit of being about three hours | late.—Detroit Free Pre No Successo: Abou Ben Adhem! May he rest in peace! Last of his name—his tribe did not increas Hecause—O think upon it with compassion Babies, about that time, went out of fash. ion. ~Chicago Tribu CONDITION OF ONAHA TRADE Vo'ume of Business f.r the Woek Larger Than Antioipated, COLLECTIONS RATHER DISAPPOINTING Values on Most Lines are About the Same as They Were n Week Ago, Still the Tendency but s Up- ward and Not Downward, Trade with Omana jobbers and manufac- turers in most lines was heavier last week than was generally anticipated. The im- pression was that practiaily all of the large buyers had been on the market and placed their orders, but from the heavy bills that were sold 'last week It fs evidel that such was not the case. Travell salesmen also met with good success on ths road and the mail orders came In (reely, o) that taking the situation as a whole job be, Fut ay they have no ca e business Is also tol ndition. Traveling road with a good many goode and &0 far have met with ex e tonally good su; for so season. With anything like an a of small grain and corn every one Is confl- dent that fall trade this year will be very heavy 4 Collections at present are not as tory as they might ge. That is owin fact that there is stfll a very mark age of cars with which to move g other farm produce. Farmers consequently have to ask for much credit at the haads of Petallers and retailers in turn not only fall to discount their bills, but have to thelr jobbers for extenalons. Tho sftuatic as yei s not what would be called exoct!y for comnlaint aifferent I inta. critical, but at the samo i'me unless *hy difficul(y Is remedied ¢isastrous efects may follow. ~ The tendency. «f -ouvse, ia tarmers to keep down expo can move their crops and It the rellef comes In time not be Injured, but if farmers are short of money throughout the spring ceason trac m the country will be materfally decrea Prices have not fluct'tated to any gr extent during the week under review. Thers Is, however, the same firm tone to the trads that has characterized the situation for many months past. Those who are In a position to know say that present pros- pects point to continued firm markets for several months to come and that prices on a great many lines will go higher before they will go lower. s Untll they MO MO -y hants wili At Sugar May Go Higher. The sugar market is in practically the samo position It was a week ago 8o far as quotations go. Raws are being firmly held, however, and those well Informed are of th opinfon that the sugar market is in a ver llrflnr position, with prospects favorabl for higher prices In the future. One of ths reasons given for 10oking for a higher sugar market is the sale, which was announced several days ago, of the California & Hawall ~Sugar Refining _company _of Crockett, Cal., to the Spreckles Sugar Re- fining company. As an jndication of the effect that this sale will have on the market jobbers are etalling attention to the fact ihat since the sale took place sugar has ad- vanced on the cost 14 cent. This advance effects the price in all the territory from Cheyenne west. This sale fs also taken as indication of the fact that the sugar in- terests are constantly becoming moro closely allled, which means a more staple market than has been experienced for many years. Without these dlg(‘l’l‘lll'l‘fl that Fave existed In the past refiners will, of course, have a better opportunity of 'securing i good margin of profit over and above the goat of production, 8o that the general opin- fon s that sugar 'will sell relatively higher in’the future than it has in the, past There has not been much change In the cheese market during the week under re- view except a little advance on New York state cheesc. Stocks are getting very light and it will be the middle of May before new grass cheese will be on the market The sltuation in canned corn s very much the same as It was a week ago. Rival can- ners are still holding off and refusing to sell future stock. In tomatoes, however, there is a slightly easier feeling. Baltimore and Maryland canners are offering futures at slightly lower figures than they were a week ago and n spot tomatoes there is also a slightly easler feeling. The demand for dried fruits has shown some {mprovement during the last few days, but still’ stock is not moving very rapldly. The rice market is firm and unchanged, The market on Byrups is also very strong at the advance recently reported. Factories are all heavily oversold and are only ace cepting orders_subject to two or three weeks' delay. Jobbers are freely predict- ing_higher prices and say that they cer- tafnly will come If the demand continues. Cereals, soap and tobacco are all selling in practically the same notches they were a week ago. Good Demand for Dry Goods. Omaha dry goods jobbers were very pleasantly surprised 'last week at the amount of stock they sold. They thought that practically all of the heavy buyers had been on the market, but they have since found that they were mistaken. They have advices that eeveral more will be hera this coming week, so they are looking for a fairly good demand for another week or ten days. The fact remains, however, that ths bulk of the spring stuft has been sold and that business in that line will rapldly de- crease from this on. Wholesalers, however, have no cause for complaint, as they have broken all previous records in the amount of goods eold, and In fact their trade so far has been the best in every respect that they have ever experienced, Traveling salesmen are now on the road with fall samples and are meeting with 800d success. Merchants seem to be aware of the fact that everything polnts to higher prices in the fature and as a resulc are anxious to get under cover. Another reason why they are anxious to buy early fs the fear of a ehortage in desirable lines. A freat many of the dealers who have been n the city recently buying spring goods have placed advance orders for fall goods 80 as to make sure of getting what they want at the proper time. ‘There is no special market news this week, as what has been previously reported about the upward tendency of the cotton g0ods market is still applicable. Every one secems to be confident that higher prices will rule on a number of staple lines. Good Rubber Goods Weather, Rubber goods jobbers dld an excellen business last week. The combination o high water, snow and rain and .mud, so peneral in ‘the territory tributary to this market, has nad the effect of making the demand for rybber goods of all kinds the best experiended in a long time. Rubber boots In particular have been in big de- mand and In fact & number of Omaha job- bers have sold out their entire stocks and have telegraphed for more to be sent by ex- ress. Rubber clothing, particularly mack- ntoshes, have been good sellers and jobbers say that if the remainder of the seasoil i3 as good as the first part bas been they will have no trouble In breaking all previous records. The demand for leather goods fs fally as heavy as uld be 'llrerlP§ at this season The only houses Lave to v of goods from the factories. that at this time last year they had a good many orders filled ‘that they are unable to ship this sea- son because tHey have not yet received the goods. They are beginning to fear that they wili have considerable trouble from this source all the season No Change in Hardware. The hardware market s in practically ths same position It was a _week ago. There have, of course, been a few minor fluctua tions, but no changes worthy of mention have' been repcrted. Trade, however, in spring lines is starting out in very satis factory manner and jobbers expect to do & rushing business from this time on. Indi- cations are that there will be a good de of building and repairing out through th country as well as in the towns, which will of course, create @ big demand for hard: ware. Frults and Produce, The demand for fruits and vegetables was just about normal last week. Whenever tha weather warms up a little the demand for gieen stuff shows & marked mprovement supply has been better of late than it was a short time ago, but as the demand s also increasing there has not been much re duction in prices. The market on butter and poultry is just about the same as it was a week ago, the demand and supply apparently running just about even. The egg market has fluctuated back and forth to quite an ex- tent, but still there have been no very rad- ical’ cha: It only takes a few warm days to ease recelpts and cause price: to break, and on the other hand a few cold days wil! hen the market again. —_— Volce of Experience. “‘What!" aeks the attorney “you a ma cled man, and yet you say you do not know where a Woman's pocket 1s? “Yes I'm a married man," rnswers the witne: hotly, “and T want to tell you that when you get to be one you'll find out that it's all you want to do to keep your eyes on your own pockets without trying to_find o“ul. where your. wife's are!’—New York