The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 31, 1902, Page 3

e N e THE SUNDAY CALL. ardentem custodi 1f—"I cannot do it! No- it is impossibie!” tan now began to strip the k all the sacred implements preparing his 1oad in the e room was dead, T last office was to fix the r candles on the head f the bed. They showed appalling stillness, and angeis, with the pit be- rapped upon the door to know it was time to un- the thick would i as I to my lung depths, breathe no more stood. But there ttempting such a thing! y opencd a gap of doorway uch he could see the candles He opened no wider tha priest, who steppe 1 bent for the porta- ning in my arm as it 1\ around the neck and 1 the stones. The tail cassock was scarcely lled the turn- your load. I rt. “He is not sq stand gazing at him e over the sacristan’s backed out with room. thru: his candle at to speak, it the ceil h 2ot _his breath e boit was turned, if my white not appeared the principal that black place. but I ha done it. nd. We descend- re the man with stock of anothet hi X e eve dwelt uld have p ieur the Cure,” said »ugh the outer the priest re- and he came was_yet in bulk, and had longed i cry, but heard the again. t, on the him in the learned te It is near my pr! nd breathed d and in frc I followed y nig x response. 1 do not know cellent ld I did n foot pass we two were alone and wheeled, man under I caught him, ck to settle matters with him, ghter was far from my done him no harm; but ; enemy, and should be forced alone. >w who had appeared so feeble in that I opened the door for and so poor-spirited that his intellect stood up as firm as a bear ) ch, and met my eves with nderstanding. other thing do I remember. The simply these: I faced Eelleh no blows passed; my mind flashed k with the partial return of that old hich has fallen upon me after g excitement, in more than one crit- The hiatus seems brief D though it may have lasted urs. I know the eclipse has been upon e, like the wing-shadow of eternity; but have scarcely let go of time. T could not prove that Bellenger drag- d me to the parapet and threw me the river. If I had known it I should e laughed at his doing so, for I could like a fish, through or under water, end it on the lake bottom holding my breath until Skenedonk had been known to_dive for me. When next I sensed anything at all it was a feeling of cold. hought I was lying in one of the shal- 1 ets that come into Lake George, end the pebbles were an uneasy bed, chilling my shoulders. I was too Stiff to move, or ‘even turn my head to lift out of water the ear on which it rested. But 1 could unclose my eyelids, and this is what I saw—a man naked to the waist, helf-reclining against a leaning slab of marble, down which a layer of water tantly moved. His legs were clothed his other garments lay across them. face had sagged in my direction, ere was a deep slash across his fore. and he showed his teeth and his glassy eyes at the joke. Beyond this silent figure was a woman as silent. The ridge of his body could not hide the long hair spread upon her breast. I considered the company and the moisture into which I had fallen with un- speakable amazement. We were in a low and wide stone chamber with a groined celling, supported by stone pillars. A row of lamps was arranged above us, so that Do ralt or feature might escape a be- That we were put there for show en- tered my mind slowly and brought indig- To be so helpiess and so exposed 'as an outrage against which I strug- r«fl. In nightmare impotence; for I was are to my hips also, and I knew not other marks 1 carried beside those had scarred me all my consclous fon which Now in the distance, desccended stairs. I knew that people were coming to look and echoing, feet at I could not move a musele in 1 their wolces, fringed with re either speaker came with- jon X Jthe mortuary chapel of the monsieur the Marquis, this is the ary c place!” cheerful than the bottom sieur the Marquis.” ever empty, eh? a servant of the Hotel years, monsieur the Mar- have not yet seen all the mar- T the bodies of the drown- urteen them where they may be claimed.” do you keep them?” Sometimes their friends ‘We have kept a body thre hs in the winter season, though he turned very green.” “Are all in your present collection gath- g verdure?’ monsieur. We have a very fresh ught in; a big stalwart fel- “That depends. seck them at once. 11 clothes?” monsieur.” kle d mnn<|c-|1rd' . I light and long? o rets man, monsieur the Marquis. e 1 shall’have to look at him. “I suppo: ¢ he had made himself unpleasant he £hould have stayed at the chateau where his mother could identify him. He is one of my peasants, come to Paris to see life! I must hold my nose and do It ‘It is not mecessary to hold the nose, monsieur.” % “After fourteen years, perhaps not. I heard the snap of a snuffbox lid as the Marquis, fortified himself. My agony for the woman who was to be looked at turned so sharp that I uttered A click in my throat. But they passed her, and merely glanced at my next neighbor. he old Marquis encountered my fixed stare. Visibly it shocked through him. He was all gray, and curled and powder- ed, instead of being clipped close and smooth-in the style of the empire; an exquisite, thin-fe man, high of nose and eyebrows, not large, but com- pletely turrea out as ample man and bright spirit. The slightest fragrance of was in his presence, and a shade of bri scent On his upper lip appeared fine su- rcilious hairs. I daid not look at the servant of the Hotel Dieu. The old noble and I held each other with unflinching gaze. & “Do_you recognize him, monsieur? “I do,” the old noble deliberately swered, “I should know this face an) ave him taken to my carriage Your carriage, monsieur! He can be sent—"" I said take him to my carriage.” t shall be done. His eves have opened he came in. But they sometimes as if they would speak! Their faces change constantly. This other man who is grinning to-night may be quite serious to- the end of the month sorry enough, eh?” The servant of the Hotel Dieu tittered amiably, and I kpew he was going for help to lift me offl the slab, when he tit- tered a_cry of surprise. The old Marquis wheeled ply and said: Is this another of them, promenading himself?” oA I felt the Oneida coming before his silent moccasins strode near me. He did not wait an instant, but dragged me from the wer and death cold marbie to the stone ficor, where he knelt upon one knee and supported me. O Skenedonk! how delicious was the warmth of your healthy body— how comforting the grip of your hunter arms! Yet there are people who say an Indian is like a snake! I could have given thanks before the altar at the side of the crypt, which my fixed eyes encountered as he held me. The marble dripped into its gutter as if complaining of my escape. “Oh, my dear friend!”’ cried the servant. Skenedonk answered nothing at all. “Who is this gentleman,” the Marquis inquired, “that seems to have the skin of German sausage drawn tight over an American Indian, monsieur the Marquis. n Indian?” Yes, monsieur; French.” “Thank you for the hint. It may save me from having a German sausage drawn tight over my head. I have heard that American Indians practice giving their friends that appearance. How do you know he understands French?” “I think it is the man who used to come to the Hotel Dieu years ago, when I was new in its service. He was instructed in religion by churchmen in Paris and learned the language. Oh, my dear mon- sieur—I_think it is Iroquois that he is called—I am aware the Americans have different manners, but here we do not go into the mortuary chapel of the Hotel Dieu and disarrange the bodies without ermission!” P Skenedonk's eyes probably$had less of the fawn in them than usual I felt the guttural sound under his breast. “I have found him, and now I will take him.” = e “But this is the Marquis’ se::lvanl! “The Marquis is his servant! “Oh, my dear monsieur the Indian! You speak of a noble of France, the Marquis but he understands du Plessy! Be satisfied,” pleaded the servitor of the Hotel Dieu, *“with this other body, whom no one is likely to claim! 1 may be permitted to offer you that, if you are determined—though it may cost me my place—and after four- teen years' service! 1f you would appease him, monsieur the Marquis—though I do not know whether they ever take money. “1 will appease him,” said the old noble. “Go about your errand and be quick.” The servant fled up the stairs. “This man is not dead, my friend,” sald the Marquis du Plessy. Skenedonk knew it. “But he will not live long in this cursed erypt,” the noble added. “You will get into my carriage with him; we will take him and put him in hot sheets and see what we can do for him. I could feel Skenedonk’s antagonism giving way in the relaxing of his mus- cles. But maintaining his position the Oneida asserted: 3 “He is not yours!” “He beliongs to France. “¥France belongs to him!" the Indian reversed. % “Eh, eh! Who is this young man? “The King.” “We have no King now, my friend. But assuming there is a man who should b‘e. King, how do you know this is the one? 1f Skenedonk made answer in words it was lost to me. The spirit sank to sub- mergence in the body. bating mot¥on like a drugged person. Torpor and prostration followed the re- curring eclipse as tbat followed excite- ment and shock. T was not {ll; and gath- ered knowledge of the environment, which was different from anything I had before experienced. De Chaumont’s manor was a wilderness fortress compared to this private hotel of an ancient family in the heart of Paris. I lay in a bed curtained with damask and looked through open glass doors at a garden. Graveled walks, bosky trees and masses of flowers, plats of grass where arbored seats were placed, stretched their vista to a wall clothed in ivy, which roved to be the end of a chapel. For high over the curtain of thick green shone a rose window. The afternoon sun laid bare its fine staining, but only in the darkness when the church was fllum- inated and organ music rolled from it did the soul of that window appear struck i I remember com- | through with light. Strange servants and Dr. Chantry by glimpses and the old noble and the Oneida almost constantly were about me.- Dr. Chantry looked complacently through, the curtains and wished me good-morning. 1 smiled to see that he was lodged as he; desired and that his clothes had been' renewed in fine cloth, with lawn to his 7/~ NAPOLEON ON THE - FIELD OF MAY ;. OTANDING WHERE 1 RZARRE"SHouULD HAVE QTo0D / neck and silk stockings for his shrunk ves. My master was an elderly beau and I gave myself no care that he had spent his money—the money of the ex- pedition—on foppery. Skenedonk also had new toggery in scarfs and trinkets which I did not recognize, and his fine buckskln‘} were cleaned. The: lackeys appeare subservient to him, and his native dignity was never more impressive®™han in that great house. I watched my host and my servant holding interviews, which Skene- donk may have considered councils, on the benches in the garden, and from which my secretary, the sick old woman, seemed excluded. But the small interest of seeing birds arrive on branches, and depart again, sufficed m until an hour when life rose strongly. I sat up in bed, and finding myself alone, took advantage of an adjoining room’ where a marble bath was set in the floor. Returning freshened from the plunge, with my sheet drawn around me, 1 found one of those skilled and gentie valets who seem less men than he-maids. “I am to dress monsieur when monsieur ready,” said this person. ‘I am Teady now," I answered, and he led me into a suite of rooms and showed me an array which took my breath: dove- colored satin knee breeches and a long embroidered coat of like color, a vest sprigged with rosebuds, cravat and lace ruffies, long silk stockings and shoes. o mateh in extravagance, a shirt of fine lawn, and a hat for a nobleman. “Téll your master,” I said to the lackey, “that he intends me great kindness, buf 1 prefer my own clothes.” “These are monsieurs own made to his order and measure.” “But I gave no order, and I was not measured.” The man raised his shoulders and elbows with gentlest dissent, “These are only a few articles of mon. sieur’s outfit. Here is the key. If mon. sieur selects another costume he will fing each one complete,” By magic as it seemed, there was a wardrobe full of fineries provided for my use. The man displayed them; In close trousers and coats with short fronts, or knce breeches and long talls; costurnes he sald, for the street, for driving, rid. ing, traveling, for evening and for morn. ing; and one white satin court dress. At the Marquis’ order he had laid out one or a ball. my old clothes no was to be seen. o e The miracle was that what he put uj me fitted me. T'became transforimed hics v servant and my secry astonished at the result. " 2nd stood : VL “‘Enter the prince of a fairy tale,” ! the Marquis du Plessy when the 'm&?i‘; ushered me into the garden. was a nest of amber at thaf % sunset, and he waited for me oy LTl lald_tor supper, under a flat canopy of whic! ad their VS tops trained and took his hand to kiss, butéhe rose up' and magnificently placed me § i opposite” himself. e “Your benefits are heavy, monsieur,” said. “How shall I acknowledge them “You owe me nothing at all.” he an. swered, “‘as you will see when I have told fie 1f. anytning were Toeredin i e & e were inc fabulous times.” e “‘But you do not know anything about €. clothes, m “1 am well Instructed In your histo by that charming attendant in lrlngg leather breeches who has been acquainted with you much longer than you have been acquainted with yourself.'” ‘“Yet I am not sure of deserving the Marquis' interest.” “Has the Marquis admitted that he feels any interest in you? Though this I will ow Few experiences have affected me like your living eyes staring out of the face of my dead King.” ‘We met each other again with a steady gaze like that in the mortuary chapel. “Do you.believe I am—"" “Do you believe you are— Who saic there was such a person in existence? “Louis Pr"*" “The Duke of Orleans? Eh, blen! What does he know of the royal family? Hi is of the cadette branch.” “But he told me the Princess, the Dauphin’s sister, believes that the Dau- phin was taken’ alive from the Temple and sent to America.” y the “My dear Lazarre, I do not Duke of Orleans would lie—far be it from On: Dollar and a Half Books for a Few Cents. O-DAY the readers of The Sun- day Call are presented with the second installment of Mary Hartwell Catherwood’s powerful his- torical romance ‘“Lazarre,” which is one of the most talked-of books in years both in America and in Europe as well. The first installment, pub- lished last Sunday, created a big sen- sation. The third installment, com- pleting the novel, will be published next Sunday, September 7. There you have a $1.50 novel for 15 cents, the most remarkable achievement ever attempted in Western journalism. There is no interminable “Continued in Our Next” series to confuse and aggravate the reader. You get the whole novel complete in two, or three editions at most. And in line with The Sunday Call’s new literary policy, the illustrations of “Lazarre” are all as unique as the story itself. With the exception of the frontisplece, the pictures are all fine reproductions of historical paint- ings by the world’s greatest masters. This week there are the famous por- traits of Lazarre’s father and mother, the King and Queen of France, and of Lazarre’s uncle, the Comte de Provence, afterward Louis XVIII, by Jean Martial Fredon; the Tuileries, from which Lazarre escaped, painted by Bellange and Dauzats; Napoleon and his child, who forever barred Lazarre’s path to the French throne, painted by Albert Pierre Dewant, and Napoleon on the “Field of May,” where Lazarre should have stood, painted by F. de Myrbach. The full-page frontispiece is a masterpiece of photography in itself. It was posed at Taber's by Sydney St. L. Cavill, the famous Olympic Club athlete, who is noted for his ex- traordinary physique, and represents Lazarre mounting the steps of the Tuileries, the ancestral palace from which his royal parents went to the guillotine. [ In this picture Mr. Mullender, Mr. Taber’s chief operator, has shown his greatest skill. Even after Goldstein & Co., the costumers, had attired Mr. Cavill in the correct dress of the pe- riod, Mr. Mullender had to paint a- background showing the grand stair- case of the Tuileries in perfect detail. This was done, and against this unique and artistic setting Mr. Cavill was photographed. The next full-page picture will be Lazarre, the apostle of the Iroquois in the American Revolutionary War. It is a photograph in Taber’s best style. The first book, “None But the Brave,” published under The Sunday Call’s new literary palicy was a big success. ‘“Lazarre” is creating a greater furore, and after that will come “The Mystery Box,” a rattling detective story, “Alice of 0ld Vin- cennes,” “When Knighthood Was in Flower,” etc., etc., all $1.50 books, for less than one-tenth of that price. You cannot equal this opportunity anywhere. —_— me—though there are times in which we courageously attack our betters. But he would not object to seeing the present pretender ousted. Why, since his father Yoted for the death of Louis XVI, he and his are almost outlawed by the older branch! Madame Royal, the Duchess of Angouleme, cannot endure him. I do not think she would speak of him!” NAPOLEON AND HIS CHILD wHo STooD & BETWEEN ‘LAZARRE AND THE FRENCH He Is my friend,” I sai, stoutly. “Remember you are another pretender, and he has espoused your cause. I think him decent myself—though there used to be some pretty stories told about aim and the fair sentimentalist who educated him—Madame de Genlis. But I am an old man; I forget gossivn.” My host gave lively and delicate atten- tion to his food as it was brought, and fermitted nothing to be overheard by his ackeys. The evening was warm and fresh with the breath of June; and the garden, by a contrivance of lamps around its walls, turned into a dream world after sunset faded. It was as impossible to come to close terms with this noble of the old regime as with a butterfly. He alighted on a subject; he waved his wings and rose. 1 felt a clumsy giant while he fluttered around my head, smiling, mocking, thrusting his pathos to the quick. ‘“My dear boy, I do not say that I be- lieve in you; I do not observe etiquetts with you. But I am going to tell you a little story about the Tullerles. You have never seen the palace of the Tufleries?” I said I had not. “It has been restored for the use of these Bonapartes. When I say these Bo- napartes, arre, I am not speaking against the empire. The empire gave me back my estates. I was not one of the stringent emigres. My estates are mine, whoever rules in France. You may con- sider me a betwixt-and-betweener. Do so. My dear boy, I am. My heart is with my dead King. My carcass is very comfortable, both in Paris and on my ancestral lands. Napoleon likes me as an ornament to his bourgeois court. I keep my opinion of him to myself. Do you like garlic, my boy?” rx ltold him I was not addicted to the use of it. “Garlic Is divine. God gave-it to man. A hint of it in the appropriate dish makes life endurable. I carry a piece i a gold box at the bottom of my vest pocket that I may occasionally take it out and experience a sense of gratitude for divine benefits.” He took out his pet lump, rubbed it on the outside of his wine bottle, poured out a glassful and drank it, smiling adorably at me in ecstasy! ‘“We were speaking of the Tuileries. You should have seen the place when it was sacked after the flight of the royal family. No, you should not have seen ft! I am giad you were gone. Mirrors were shattered, and lusters, vases, china, gold candlesticks rolled about and wers frampled on the floor. The paintings wers stabbed with pikes; tables, screens, gilt stools, chairs crushed and carpets cut to pieces; garments of all kinds strewn and torn; all that was not carried off by bil- ‘agers being tnus destroyed. It was yet & horrible sight days after the mob had done their work, and slaughtered bodles of guards had been carcied away, and commissioners with their clerks and as- sistants began to restore order.” “Did you see the Tuileries at that time, monsieur?”” “I did. I put on the clothes of ome of my peasants, slumped In Jacquot's wood- en shoes and kept my mouth open as well &s I could for the dust. The fantastio was yet in my blood. Exile takes that out of everybody except your royal uncle of Provence. But I knew' in mg'heart what I would help do with that mob, if our turn ever came again!" His. dark eyes rested on the red wine as on a pool of blood. “Sick of the Tuin, I leaned out to look in the garden, from a window in the Queen’s own apartment. I stepped on a shelf, which appeared fixed under the win- dow; but it moved, and I found that it could be pushed on grooves into the wall. There was a cavity made to hold it. It had concealed two armchairs placed op- posite each other, so cunningly that their paneled sides yet looked a part of the thick wall. I sat down In one of them, and though the cushion was stiff, I felt something hard under it.” Monsieur du Plessy glanced around in every direction to satisfy himself that no ears lurked within hearing. “Eh, bien! Under the cushion I found the Queen’s jewel case! Diamonds—bags of gold coin—a half-circlet of gems—since the great necklace was lost such an array had not seen the light in France. The value must be far above a million francs.” The Marquis fixed his eyes on me and said: “What should I have done with it, Lazarre?” “It belonged to the royal family,” I answered. “But everything which belonged to the royal family had been confiscated to tl state. I had just seen the belongings of the royal family trampled as by cattle. First one tyrant and then another rose up to tell us what we should do, to batten himself off the wretched commonwealth, and then go to the guillotine before his successor. As a good citizen I should ha: turned these jewels and stones and col; over to the state. But I was acting the part of Jacquot, and as an honest peas- ant 1 whipped them under my blouse and carried them away. In my straits of exile I never decreased them. And you may take inventory of your property and claim it when we rise from the table.” My heart came up in my throat. I reached across and caught his hands. “You believe in me—you believe in mel" *“Do I observe any etiquette with yor Lazarre? This is the second time I hav brought the fact to your notice. I partic- alarly wish you to note that I do not ob- Jerve any etiquette with you.” “What does a boy Wwho has been brought up _among Indlans know about atiquette? But you accept me, or you could not put the property you have ioy- ally and at such a risk saved for my fam- ly, into my hands.” “I don't accept even your uncle of Provence, the King of Spain, and I pre- fer to call him by that modest title. Since jou,dled or were removed from the tempie e has taken the_name of Louls XVLIL and maintained a court at the expense o. the Czar of Russia and the King of Spain. He Is a fine Latinist; quotes Latin verse and keeps the mass bells everlast- ingly ringing. The Russians laugh at his royal masses. But in mv opinion the sacred gentleman fis either moral slush or a very dee uicksand. It astonishes me,* said the Mar- quis du Plessy, “to find how many peopls 1 do disapprove of! I really require very little of the people I am obliged to meet.” He smoothed my hands, which were yet holding his, and exploded: “The Count of Provence is an old turtle! Not exactly a reptile, for thers is food In him. But of a devilish flat head and cruel snap of the jaws!™* “How can that be,” I argued, ‘““‘when his niece loves him so? And even I, in the American woods, with mind eclipsed, was not forgotten. He sent me of the money that he was obliged to receive in charity!” “It is easy to dole out charity money; you are squeezing other people’s purse: not_your own. What I most object to in the Count of Provence is that assump- tion of kingly airs, providing the story is true which leaked secretly among the emigres. The story which I heard was that the dauphin had not died, but was an idiot in America. An idiot cannot reign. But the throne of France is not clamoring so loud for a Bourbon at pres- ent that the idiot's substitute must be proclaimed and hold & DegEars court There are mad loyalists who swear this eighteenth Louis. I am not one of them. In fact, Lazarre, I was rather oug