The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 6, 1904, Page 8

CISCO SUNDAY CALL. (Copyright by A. Coman Deyle.) HE knew Alphonse age. Fr about the time of Revolution of 48 until he died in the second year of the Crimean he was always to be found in the ner of the Cafe de Provence, of the Rue St. Honore, com- n the evening and nd no one to talk e self-restraint to plomatist. for his d all bellef, and yet at detecting the shadow r the slightest little rais- folk Lacour many the et the e ng down about 9 tng of eyebrows. of s stories none was more no- of the Koran and e messenger. And yet C s memoirs were ind that there really tion for old Lacour's monsieur,” he left Egypt after tion. I gladly would for I was engaged in f the Koran, and selves I had thoughts at the Kileber's assa have stayed a translation be- tween 0 me of embracing Mahometanism, for struck by the wisdom r views about marriage. They incredible mistake, how- upon the subject of wine, and was what the Lufti who attempt- ert me could never get ov ren old Kleber died and Menou he tgp I felt that it was time go. I carried my Koran and to London, where Monsieur been sent by the First Con- ange & treaty of peace, for were very weary of the had elready lasted ten re I was most useful to Mon- Otto on account of my knowledge English tongue, and also, if I say , on account of my natural Monsieur Otto, our Embas- was kept terribly busy over that treaty and 2ll of his staff were worked to death. You can understand that it was child's play. After ten years of war each nation had got hold of a great deal which had belonged to the other, to the other allies. What was to be given back? And what was to be kept? Is this island worth that pe ? If we do this at Venice, will do that at Sierra Leone? If we give up Egypt to the Sultan, will vou restore the Cape of Good Hope, " you have taken from our allies Dutch? So we wrangled and wrestled; and I have seen Monsieur Otto come back to the embassy so ex- hausted that his secretary and I had to help him from his carriage to his sofe. But at last things edjusted themselves, and the night came round when the treaty was to be finally eigned. “Now you must know that the one &reat card which we held, and which we pleyed, played, played at every spoint of the game, was that we had BEgypt. The English were very ner- vous about our being there. It gave s a foot on each end of the Mediter- franean, you see. And they were not sure that that wonderful little Napol- smon of ours might not make it a base ©of an advance against India. So jwhenever Lord Hawkesbury proposed #o retain enything, we had only to reply, “In that case, of course, we can- not consent to evacuate Egyut,’ and in this way we quickly brought him to reason “Well, it was upon the 1st of October that the treaty was finally to be signed. In the morning I was congratulating Monsieur Otto upon the happy conclu- #ion of his labors. He was a little pale very quick and nerv- was so delighted now at uccess that he could not sit about the room chattering hing, while I sat on a cushion wer, as 1 had learned to do in Suddenly in came a messen- ger with a letter which had been for- from Paris. Monsieur Otto cast upon it, and then without a knees gave way and he fell on the fioor. I ran to him, urier, and between us we carried him to the sofa. He might have been dead from his appearance, but I stil his heart thrilling be- or wh sk han East neath my palm. is this, then? I asked. net know,” answered.the mes- Talleyrand told me as never man hurried before, is Jetter into the hands of I was in Paris at mid- I dc senger ‘Monsieur 1o hurry esterda) know that I am to blame, but I 1ld not help glancing at the letter, picking it out of the senseless hand of Me eur Otto. My God! the thun- derbolt that it was! I did not faint, but 1 sat down beside my chief and I burst tears. It was but a few words, but they told us that Egypt had been evac- uated by our troops a month before. All our treaty was undone then, and the one consideration which had in- duced our enemies to give us good terms had vanished. In twelve hours it would not have mattered. But now the treaty was not yet signed. We inte FO OMAN ghould have to give up the Cape. We should have to let England have Malta. Now that ‘Egypt was gone, we had nothing to offer in exchange. “Monsieur Otto recovered his senses presently, and we took counsel of what we should do. ‘It is useless to go on, Alphonse, said he. ‘This Englishman will laugh at me when I ask him to sign.’ Courage!’ I cried; and then, a sud- den thought coming into my head, How do we know that the English will have news of this? Perhaps they may n the treaty before they know of it." “Monsieur Otto sprang from the sofa and flung himself into my arms. “‘Alphonse,” he cried, ‘you saved me! Why should they know about it? Our news has come from Toulon to Paris, and thence straight to London. Theirs will come by sea through the Straitmof Glbraltar. At this moment it is unlikely that any one in Paris knows of it, save only Talley- rand and the First Consul. If we keep our secret we may still get our treaty signed.” 'Ah, monsieur, have vou can imagine the e uncertainty in which we spent Never, never shail I forget hou ring which we sat starting at every dista 1 be the first together, at, lest it shc of the rejoicing which this news would cause - in London, Mo Otto passed from youth to age in a day. As for me, I find it easler to go out and meet danger than t it. I set forth, therefore, toward evening. I wandered here and wandered there. I was in the fencing rooms of Monsleur Angelo and in the salon-de-boxe of Monsfeur Jackson and in the %lub of Brooks and in the lobby of the Cham- ber of Deputies. but nowhere aid I hear any news. Still, it was possible that Milord Hawkesbury had recelved it himself just as we had. He lived in Harley street, and there it was that the treaty was tobe finally signed that night at 8. I entreated Monsieur Otto to drink two'glasses of Burgundy before he went, for I feared lest his haggard face and tremBYng hands should rouse suspicion in the English Minister. “Well, we went round together in one of the embassy’s carriages, about7:30. Monsieur Otto went in alone; but pres- ently, on excuse of getting his port- folio, he came out again, with his cheeks flushed with joy, to tell me that all was well. “‘He knows nothing,’ he whispered. ‘Ah, if the next half hour were over!’ “‘Give me a sign when it is settled,’ said L * ‘For what reason?’ “‘Because until then no messenger shall interrupt yvou. I give you my proiaise—I, Alphonse Lacour.’ “He clasped my hand in both his. ‘T shall make an excuse to move one of the candles on to the table in the win- dow,’ saic he, and hurried fnto the house, while I was left waiting beside the carriage. “Well, if we could but secure our- selves from interruption for a single helf-hour the day would be our own. I had hardly begun to form my plans when I saw the lights of a‘carriage coming swiftly from the direction of Oxford street. Ah, if it should be the messenger! What could I do? I was prepared to kill him—yes, even to kill him, rather than at this last moment allow our work to be undone. “hou- sands die to make a glorious war. Why should not one die to make a gloridus peace? What though they hurried me to the scaffold? I should have sacri- ficed myself for my country.. I had a little curved Turkish knife strapped to my waist. My hand was on the hilt of it when the carriage which had alarmed me rattied safely past me. “But another might .come.- I must be prepared. Above all, I must not compromise the embassy. I ordered our carriage to move on, and I engaged what you call a hackney coach. Then I spoke to the driver, and gave him & guinea. He undergtood that it was a special service, “‘You shall have another guinea if you do what you are told,’ said L “ “All right, master,” said he, turning his slow eves upon me without a trace of excitement or curiosity, “‘I¢ I enter your coach with another gentleman, you will drive up and down Harley street and take no orders from any one but me. When I get out you will carry the other gentleman to Watier’s Club, in Bruton street.’ ““All right, master,’ said he again. “So 1 stood outside Milord Hawkes- bury’s house, and you can think how often my eyves went up to that window in the hope of seeing the candle twinkle in t. Five minutes passed, and another five. Oh, how slowly they crept along! I paced up and down, slapping my hands to keep them warm, and still straining my ears. And then suddenly out of the dull hum of the traffic down in Oxford street I heard a sound de- tach itself, and grow lpuder and louder, and clearer and clearer with every in- stant, until two yellow lights came flashing through the fog, and a light cabriolet whirled up to the door of the Foreign Minister. It had not stopped before a young fellow sprang out of it and hurried to the steps, while the REIGN «® ) driver turned his horse and rattled off into the fog once more. “Ah, it is in the moment of action that I am best, monsieur. You, who only see me when I am drinking my wine in the Cafe de Provence, cannot conceive the heights to which I rise. At that moment, when I knew that the fruits of a ten years’' war were at stake, I was magnificent. It was the last French _campaign and I the general and army in one. 5 “‘Sir,” said I, touching him upon the arm, ‘are:you the messenger for Lord Hawkesbury?’ “‘Yes,’ said he. “‘I have been .waiting for you halt an hour,’ said I. ‘You are to follow me at once. He is with the French Bm- bassador.” “I spoke with such assurance that he never hesitated an instant. When he entered the hackney coach and. I fol- lowed him in my heart gave such a thrill of joy that I could hardly keep from shouting aloud. He was a poor little creature, this Foreign Office mes- senger, not much bigger than Monsieur Otto, and I—monsieur can see my hands now and imagine' what they were like when I was seven and twenty years of age. - ““This is a pressing business,’ said he. ‘I have a dispatch which I must deliver instantly.” “Our coach had rattled down Harley street, but now, in accordance with my instructions, it turned and began to go up again. FFICE ‘What's this?" “‘What then? I asked. “ ‘Hello!" he cried. “‘We are driving back. Where is Lord Hawkesbury? * ‘We shall see him presently.’ “‘Let me out,’ he shouted. ‘There’s scme trickery in this. Coachman, stop the coach! Let me out, I say!’ “I dashed him back into his seat as he tried to turn the handle of the door. He roared for help. I clapped my palm across his mouth. He made his teeth meet through the side of it. his own cravat and bound it over his lips. He still mumbled and gurgled, but the noise was covered by the rat- «tle of the wheels. We were passing th= Minister’s house and there was no can- dle in the window. “The messenger sat quiet for a little and I could see the glint of his eyes as he stared at me through the gloom. Presently he’got his mouth partly free from the cravat. “‘You can have my watch and my purse if you will let me go,” said he, *“‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I am as honorable a man as you are yourself. “‘Who are you, then? “‘My name {s of no importanc: *“‘What do you want with me? ‘It is‘a bet.’ “‘A bet? What d’you mean? Do you “understand that I am on the Govern- ment service and that you will see the inside of a jail for this?’ *“ “That is the bet. That is the sport,” said L 1 seized ° “‘You may find it popr sport before You finish,” he cried. ‘What is this in- sane bet of yours, then? ‘I have bet,” I answered, ‘that I wili recite a chapter“of the Koran to the first"gentleman whom I should meet in the street.’ “I do not know what made me think it, ve that my translation was_ al- Ways runhing in my head. He clutched at the door handle and again I had’to hurl him back into his seat. = “ ‘How long will it take?” he gasped. *‘It depends on the chapter,” I an- swered. “‘A short one, th--, and let me go! “‘But fair?’ I argued. ‘When I say a chanter I do not mean the short- est chapter, but rather one which should be of average length.’ “‘Help! help! ‘help!” he squealed, and I was compelled again to adjust his cravat. “‘A little patience,’ saM I, ‘and it will soon be over. I should like to re- cite the chapter which would be of most interest to yourself. You will con- fess that I am trying to make things as pleasant as I can for you? “He slipped his mouth free again. “ ‘Quick, then, quick!” he groaned. ‘“ “The Chapter of the Camel?’ I sug- gested. “ ‘Yes, yes.’ “‘Or that of the Fleet Stallion? “‘Yes, yes. Only proceed!” “We had passed’ the window and there was no candle. I settled down to recite ‘the Chapter of the Fleet Stal- lion'to him. “Perhaps you do not know your Ko- ran very well, monsieur? Well, I knew it by heart then, as I know it by heart now. The style is a little exasperating for any one who is in a hurry. But, then, what would you have? The peo- ple in the East are.never in a hurry, and it was written for them. I re- peated it all with the’ dignity and sol- emnity ivhich ‘a sacred book demands, and the young Englishman he wriggled and groaned. *“ “When the Rorses, standing on three feet and placing the tip of their fourth foot upon the ground, were mustered in front of him in the evening,’ he said, ‘T have loved the love of earthly good above the remembrance of things on high, and have spent the time in view- ing these horses. Bring the horses back to me.’ And when they were brought back he began §0 cut off their legs and—' “It was at this moment that the yvoung Englishman sprang at me. My God! how little can I remember of the next few minutes! He was a boxer, this shred of a man. He had been trained to strike. .T tried to catch him by the hands. Pac, pac, he came upon my nose and uppn my eye. I put down my head and thrust at him with it. Pac, he came from below. But, ah! I was too much for him. I hurled myself upon him, and he had no place where he could escape my weight. He fell flat upon the cushions, and I seated myself e S2 7 3 < upon him with such conviction that the wind flew from him as from a burst bellows. “Then I searched to see what there was with which I could tie" him. I drew the strings from my shoes and with one I secured his wrists and with another his ankles. Then I tled the cravat round his mouth again, so that he could only lie and glare at me. When I had dqpne all this and had stopped the bleeding of my own nose I looked out of the coach, and ah, monsieur, the very first thing which caught my eyes was that candle, that dear little candle, glimmering in the window of the Min- ister. Alone, with these two hands, I had retrieved the capitulation of an army and the loss of a province. Yes, monsieur, what Abercombie and 5000 men had done upon the beach at Abou- kir was undone by me, single-handed, in a hackney coach in Harley street. “Well, I had no time to lose, for at any moment Monsieur Otto might be down. I shouted to my driver, gav him his second guinea and allowed him to proceed to Watler's. For myself, I sprang into our embassy carriage and a moment later the door of the Minis- ter opened. He had himself escorted Monsieur Otto downstairs and now so deep was he in talk that he walked out bareheaded as far as the carriage. As he stood there by the open door there e the rattle of wheels and a man hed down the pavement. A dispatch of great importdnce for Milord Hawkesbury!” he cried. “T could see that it was nst my mes- senger, but a second one. Milord Hawkesbury caught the paper from his hand and read it by the light of the carriage lamp. His face, monsieur, was as white as this plate before he had finished. « “Monsieur Otto,” he cried, ‘we have signed this treaty upon a false under- standing. Egypt is in our hand « “What!" cried Monsieur Otto. ‘Im- ible!” It is certain. It fell to Abercrom- bie last month.” “‘In that case,’” said Monsieur Otto, ‘it is very fortunate that the treaty is signed.” Very fortunate for you, sir, Milord Hawkesbury, and he back to the house.’ “Next day, monsieur, what they call the Bow street runners were after me, but they could not rum across salt wa- ter and Alphonse Lacour was receiving the congratulations of Monsieur Tal- leyrand and the First Consul before ever his pursuers had got as far as Dover.” eried turned