The Seattle Star Newspaper, September 29, 1920, Page 4

the message to the palace.” The marquis rose from his chatr 4nd bowed.“"You did not permit me to Gkinh my sentence, countess,” he maid, “I would have said: ‘Your de- votion is great, but your wit and eharm are infinitely greater” While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing some linea addressed to his amorette Wosealier, He heard a timorous knock at his door, and opened it with a gre®t throb, to behold her there, panting as one in straita, with eyes wide open and artless, like a ontid's. “Monateur,” she breathed, “I come te you in distress, I believe you to be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I flew thru the atrbets among the swaggering men! his nest.’ They will pass you, and you will go to the south entrance to. the palace, “Repeat the worda, ahd give this letter'to the man who will reply ‘Let him, «trike when he wil! This is the password, mon- sour, entrusted to me by my uncle, fer now when the country is din turbed and men plot against. the king's life, no one without it can gain entrance to the palace grounds a nightfall, If you will, mon- siour, take him this letter so that my mother may see him before she closes her eyes.” “Give it to me," sald David, eager ly, “But shall I let you return home thru the streets alone #0 late? I" “No, no—fly, Each moment is lke @ precious jewel. Some time,” said the Indy, with eyes long and conening, like a gypay's, “I will try to thank you for your gcodnenr.” ‘The poet thruat the letter into his broast, and bounded cown the atair- way. The lady, when he was gone. returned to the room below. The eloquent eyebrows of the mar, interrogated her, le is gone,” she said, “an fleet and stupid as one of his own sheep, to deliver it.” The table shook again from the batter of Captain Desroties’ fiat. “Bacred name! he cried; “I have mourtache reached nearly to Mocking eyes, Andther was a , young ana beautiful, with eyes could be round and artless, like or long and cowening, Ike a but were now keen and am like any other conapirator’s third was a man of action, a tant, a bold and impatient ex. ive, breathing fire and steel, He addressed by the others as Cap- Desrolies. This man struck the t#ble with his and said, with controlled vie palace guards belong to us to make the endeavor a safe one.” “Tonight repeated Captain Dea- rolles, again striking the table. “You have heard me, marquis; my hand will do the deed.” “But now,” said the huge man, softly, “comoa a. question. Word must be sent to our partianns tn'the palace, and @ aignal agreed upon. Our staunchest men must accom pany tho royal carringe. At this hour what messenger can penetrate so far as.the south doorway? Ribout, is stationed there; once a 'mensage is placed in his hands, all will go well.” “I will send the message,” sald the lady. “You countess? sald the marquis, sing his © rows, “Your devotion Bi an orig cect ad Monstour, my mother is dying, My Listen!” exclaimed the lady, ris-/ Uncle ts a captain of guards in the ing and resting her hands upon the! palace of the king. Some one aust table; “in @ garret of this house tives |My to bring/him. May I hope— @ youth from the provinces as guile. “Mademotselie,” tntorrupted David, less and tender 4s the lambs he tend-| his eyes shining with the desire to ed there, I have met him twice or} do her sepvice, “your hobes shall be thrice upon the stairs. 1 questioned | my win, ‘Tell me how I may reach him, fearing that he might dwell too | him.” near the room in which we are ac ‘The lady thrust a sealed paper into customed to meet. He is mine, if I) his hand. ‘will, He writes poems in his garret,| “Go to the south gate—the south and I think he dreams of me He | gate, mind you--and my to the will do what I say, He shall take! guards these, ‘The falcon has left + ww! “Tonight. Tonight as he goes to ight mass. I am tired of the that gets nowhere, I am of signals afd ciphars and secret and such barigouin. Let )Be honest traitors, If France ts be rid of him, let us kill in the and not hunt with) snares and Tonight, I sty. I back my My hand will do the deed. ht, as he goes to masa” ) = The lady turned upon him a cor. f look. Woman, however wedded Plots, must ever thus bow to rash . The big man gtroked his moustache, “Dear captain,” he sail, *n a great softened by habit, “this time I with you. Nothing ts to be by waiting. Enough of the ‘A completely | mew and attrac- now here to stay in her her friends as they climb the Ladder of Happi- .* You will frppethize with this pleasing Paramount s | efforts to shiel ness. — ight thal lies ‘in eyes, And hes -and les-and ies /” Paramount Magazine THE SEATTLE ST, y it me. left my pistols behind! I can trust bo others.” “Take this” mia the marquis, drawing from beneath his cloak «| shining, great weapon, ornamented| with carven silver. “There are none truer, But guard it closely, for it bears my arms and crest, and al ready Lam suspected. Me, I must put many leagues between myself and Paris this night. Tomorrew' must find me in my chateau. After you, dear countess.” ‘The marquin puffed out the candle ‘The lady, well cloaked, and the two gentlemen softly descended the stair way and flowed into the crowd that roamed along the narrow pavements: of the Rue Conti, David eped. At the south gate of the king’s residence @ halberd waa laid to his breast, but ‘he turned its point with the worda: “The falcon has left his nest.” “Pass, brother,” eaid the gurd, “and go quickly.” On the south steps of the palace they ,moved to seize him, but again the mot de passe charmed the watch- ers, One among them stepped ‘for. ward and began: “Let‘him strike—" but a flurry among the guards told) of a surprise. A man of keen look And soldierly stride suddenly prensed, thru them 4nd acized the lettey; which David held in hie hand. “Com p | with me,” he said, and led bim try side the great hall, Then he tor open the letter and read it “Hi beckoned to a man uniformed as on ing. “Captain Tetrau, you will have the guards at the south entranbe and the south gate arrested and cin fired. Place men known to be lo jal ' “Come with me.” ‘ He conducted him thru & oo and an anteroom into & spacious chamber, where a molancholy san, sombrely dressed, sat broodms’ in & great, leathered-covered chair. To that man he said: ! “Bire, 1 have told you that, the palace is as full of traitors and,epies as a sewer is of rata, You/ have thought, sire, that it was my fancy. This man penetrated to youry very door by their connivance. He bore & letter which J have intercepted. 1 have brought him here that your majesty may no longer think my 20a) excenatve.” “I will question him,” #ai4 the king, stirring in his chair, He look ed at David with heavy eyes dulled by an opaque film. The poet ben‘ his knee, “From where do you comef” ask- the province of KEure-et-Ladr, sire." “What do you follow in brin?* “ would be a poet, sire,” What did you do in Vernoy?* “1 minded my father’s Mock of sheep.” The king stirred again, and the film lifted from his eyes, “Ah! in the fleldst* “Yea, sire.” “You wved tn the Melée; you went out In the cool of the morning and Hay among the hedges in the. grew, The Mock distributed itself upon/the hillside; you drank of the living stream; you ate your sweet, brown bread In the shade, and you liatpned, doubtless, to blackbirds piping in the grove. 1s not that so, shephi | “It in, site,” Answered Davids with a.aigh, “and to the bees at the flow lera, and. maybe, to the grapeggath- Lagemd singing on the. bill.” “Yes, you.” axid. the king, tm: | patiently; “maybe to them. but sure lty to the biackbinia They wibistied often, in the grove, did theyy not?’ | "Nowhere, sire, so sweetly: as in |Bureet-Loir, 1 have vored to express their sone tn gome, ver | that I have written.” “Can you repeat thone verses?” tasked the king, eagerly. “A Jong: time |ago I listened to the blackbirds It | would be something better than a |kingdom if one could rightly con- strue their song. And at pkcht you drove the sheep to the fold and then rAt. In peace and tranquility.te your |pleasant bread. Can you repeat thore verses, shepherd? “They run this way, sire,” David with respectful ardor; md “"Lany shepherd, see your Inmbkine Skip, ecstatic, on the meadg Ben the fire dance in the brewres, Mear Pan blowing nt her | reed. ‘oie from the treetops, upon your feok rake our newt of the” warm “If It please your majesty,” inter tupted a harsh volee, “Iwill axk a question or two of this rhymster. There ts jittie time to spare, L erav | pardon, sire, if my anxiety for your safety offends.” | “The loyhity,” said the king, “of |the Duke d'Aumale is too well proven to give offense.” He sank Jinto bin ohair, and the film came |again over his eyes | “First,” said the duke, “I will read the letter he brought: ‘Tonight im the anniversary of the dauphin’s death, If he goes, as is his custom,, to midnight maas to pray for the soul of his son, the fat con will strike, at the corner of the Rue Esplanade, If this be his in tention, set a red light in the upper room at the southwest corner of the that the faleon may take “Peamnt,” said the duke, sternly, “you have heard these words, Who ave you this message to brin, My lord duke,” sald David, «in cerely, “I will tell you. A lady gave She sid her mother was MM, and that this writing would feteh her uncle to her bedside, I do not know the meaning of the letter, but I will qwear that sho is beautiful and good.” “Deseribe the woman," command. ed the duke, “and how you came to be her dupe.” “Describe herf™ sald David, with a tender smile, “You id command words to perform miractes, Well, she in made of sunshine and deep shade. She i# slender, like the And moves with their grace ps change while you gaze into now round, and then half shut as the sun peeps between two clouds, When she comes, heaven Is all about her; when she leaves, there ia chaos and @ scent of hawthorn blossoms, She came to me in the Rue Cont!, number twenty-nine.” “It is the house,” said the duke, [turning to the king, “that we have been watching. Thanks to the poet's tongue we have a pleture of the in- famous Countess Quebedaux.” ‘Sire dnd my lord duke,” David, earnestly, “I hope my words have done no tnjustict |have looked into that lady's eyes. 1 will stake my life that she ts an angel, lettor or no letter.” officer of musketeers, who was parp- in their places.” To David he s(id:| The duke looked at bim steadily “I will pug you to the proof,” he waid, elowly, “Dressed na the king, you shall, yourself, attend mass in yhis carriage at midnight. Do you accept the teat?” Dayid amiled, “T have looked tnto ther eyen,” he said. “I had my proof there, Take yours how you will.” Half an hour before twelve the “Duke @Aumale, with bia own hands, wet @ red lamp in @ southwest win dow of the palace, At ten minutes to the houc Dayid, leaning on his arm, dressed as the king, from top to toe, with his head bowed in his cloak, walked slowly from the royal apartments to the waiting carriage. The duke assisted him inside and clowed the door, The carriage whirl ed away along its route to the cathedral, On the qui vive in a house at the corner of the Rue Keplanade was Captain Tetreau with twenty men, ready to pounce upon the conspir- ators when they should appear, But it seemed that, for some rr fon, the plotters had slightly altered their plans, When the royal car riage had reached the Rue Christo pher, one square Mearer than the Rue Esplanade, forth from it burst Captain Dearolies, with his band of would-be regiciden, and aanatied the equipage, The guards upon the car riage, tho surprised at the prema ture attack, descended and fought valiantly, The noise of conflict at tracted the force of Ca, in Tetreau, and they came peltifig down the mreet to the rescue, But, in the meantime, the desperate Desrolles had torn open the door of the king's carriage, thrust his weapon against the body of the dark figure ‘inaide, and fired. Now, with loyal reinforcements at hand, the street rang With cries and the rasp of steel, but the frightened horses had dashed away. Upon the cushiotia lay the dead body of the poor mock king and poet, slain by a ball from the pistol of Monselg néur, the Marquis de Beaupertuya eee THE MAIN ROAD “Three Ieagues, then the road ran, and turned into a puazic. It join with another and a larger road at stood, uncertain, ther? sat himact/ to reat upon its side, HITHER those roads ied he knew not. Either way there seemed to lie a great world full of chance and peril, And then, sitting there, his eyes fell upon a bright star, one that he and Yvonne had named for thetrn That set him / ‘nking ef Yvonne, and he won- dered if he had not been too hasty. Why should he leave her and his home because a few words had come between them? Was love so brittle a thing that fealouny, the very proof of it, could break it? Mornings always brought a cure for the little heartaches of the evening. There was yet me for him to re turn home without Any one in the wwoetly sleeping village of Vernoy being the winer. His heart. was Yvonne's; there where he had’ lived always he could write. his poems and find bis happiness David rose, and shook off hin un rest and the wild mond that had tempted him. He set Bis face stead: fastly back along the road he had come. My the time he had re- travelled the road to Vernon, his de wire to rove was gone. He passed the sheepfold, and the sheep scur ried, with his late footsteps, warmfer hin Reart by the homely sound. jout poise into hig NtUe room and lay there, thankful that, his feet bad eecaped the distress of wew roads that night How well he knew woman's heart! ‘The next evening Yvonne was at the | Well im the read where the young congregated in order that the cure right angles, Da j her eye was engaged in a search for | David, albeit her set mouth seemed junrelenting. He saw the look; braved the mouth, drew from it a recantation and, later, a kiss as they walked homeward together, Three months afterward they were married, David's father was shrewd and prosperous, He gave them a wedding that w heard of three leagues away, 10th the young peo ple were favorites in the village There was @ provession in streets, a dance on the green; they t the marionettes and a tumbler out from Dreux to delight the guests, Then a year, and David's father died, ‘The sheep and the cottage descended to him. He already had the seemliest wife in the village. Yvonne's milk paily and her brass kettles were bright-—ouf! they blind ed you Im the sun when you passed that way, But you must keep your eyes upon her yard, for her flower beds were so neat and gay they ri stored to you your sight. And you might hear her sing, aye, as far as the double chestnut tree above Pere Gruneau’s blacksmith forge. But a day came when David drew outspaper from a long-shut drawer, and began to bite the end of a pen ci. Spring had comé again and touched his heart. Poet he must have been, for now Yvonne was well: nigh forgotten. This fine new love liness of earth held him with its witehery and grace, The perfume |from her woods and meadows stirred him strangely, Daily had he gone |forth with his flock and brought it |xafe at night. But now he stretched jhimself under the hedge and pieced words together on The sheep strayed, and the wot percelving that difficult poems make easy mutton, ventured from the ‘woods and stole his lamba, David's stock of poems grew Jarger and his flock smaller, Yvon- ne's nose and temper waxed sharp and her talk blunt. Mer pans and caught their flash, She pointed out to the poet that iis neglect was re- dueing t upon th jhoy t usehold, David hired a in the little room in the of the cottage, and poems, The boy, being a poet by nature, but not furnished with an outlet in the way of writing, spent his time in slumber. The wolves lost no time in vering that poetry and sleep are practically the same; so the flock steadily grew smaller. Yvonne's 4. temper in- creased at an equal rate, Sometimes she would stand in the yard and rail at David thru bis high window, ‘Then you could hear her as far an the double chestnut tree above Pere Gruneau's blacksmith forge. M. dling old notary, saw this, as he saw everything at which his pase point might have business, The corner of | the | bits of paper; | kettles grew dull, but her eyes had'| » flock and bringing woe | h ard the sheep, locked him: | | wrote more | eau, the kind, wise, nfed- HERE'S MORE ABOUT O. HENRY’S “ROADS OF DESTINY” of. ing one am roll read. He aligh' into the lump as a-worm intova nut, seeking for a kernel. Meanwhile David‘ sat, marooned, trembling in the spmy of so much Uterature. It roared in his ears. He held no chart or compass for voyag- thought, must be writing books. rt Monsieur Bril bored to the last page of the poems. Then he took ott with his handkerchief. “My old friend, Papineau, is well?” he asked. “In the best of health.” said David. “How many @cep tave-you, Mon- sieur Mignot?” “Three counted them yesterday. | han | ber it has decreased from eight hun dred and fifty.” “You have a) wife and a home, and |lived in comfort. Theisheep brought you plenty. with them and lived in the keen air |and ate the sweet Dread of content ment. You had but to be vigilant and recline there upon nature’ breast, listening tot the whistle of th blackbirds in the grove. Am I right thus far?” “It Was #0,” said! David. “I have rend all your: verses,” con- tinued Monsieur Beil, hin eyes wan- dering about hig sea of books as if he conned the horkzon for a sail. “Look yonder, thru that window, Monster Mignot; tellsme what you ser in that tres.” “I gee &@ crow,” eaid David, look- hme. He crept with | know | | self with a great pinch of snuff, and said , “Friend = Mignot, upon your father be obliged to attest a ipaper ai that is what you are coming to. speak a4 an old fri¢nd. N to what I have to say. your heart poetry. lives in a little cle houseful of books. man; he visits Paris each, year; he himself has written books, tell you when the catacombs were | sonsieur Bril, with a sigh. “ read made, how they found out:the name I of the stars, and why the plover has yng bi © meaning 4 ¢ | B tong Dil. ‘The meaning and the!" den, you,” said Dawé alin form of poetry in to him,as intellt- |, Pe ee . went as the baa,of a sheepels to you. | “AN now I w going I will give you, @ letter tos him, and you shall take him your poems and let him: read them. Then you will know if you shall write more, or | give your attention to your-wife and bual ness.” “Write the letter,” mid Dawid, sooner.” At sumrise the next morning he was on the road to Dreux with the precious ell of poems under his arm. At incon he wipMd the dust | from his fewt at the door of Monsieur Brit. That, learned man broke the neal of M Papineau’s sucked up gleaming spectacles an the , sun draws water. He took David tnaide to bi a little inland ‘beat upon by,a sea of books. je Monsieur Bril'had a consactence. He flinched not ‘even at a mase of manuacript the thickness of a finger length and rolied\ to an incorrigible curve. “There is a bird” deqid a drumming Gutter, #t! ri, “thy rd,” teqid Monsieur STARTS ON “PAGE ONE | he ts the philosopher «if the air, ‘He is happy thru submis fon to hig tot None #0 merry or fulllcrawed as he with his whimsical eye and rollick- ing step. The fields y _4d him what to |he desires. Hoe never grieves that ify-|bis plumage in not igy, Uke the >) But | orlole’s. And you bave; heard, Mon- 1|sleur Mignot, the noter! that nature Now, laten|has given him? In the nightingale You have|@ny happler, do you think?” net, I perceive upon| David rose to his feat. The crow At Dreux, I have a friend, |cawed harshly from him tree . Monsieur Beit rgen Bril. He} “1 thank you, Monsieur Bril,,he 1 mace in 4\ said, slowly. “There was not, then, He isa learned 6 nightingale noteamongrall those croaks?” “L could not have missed: it,,” eaid He went to David, fortified him- affixed the marriage certificate It wouldsdistrens the ot " the bankruptcy of! his #on, He will! very word. Live your*poctry, man; |do not try to write it any gore.” my sheep.” “If you would dine with me,” said the man of books, “and overlook the |mmart of it, I will give yous reasons lat length.” * “No,” said the poet, “Ti must be pa k in the fields cawing at my sorry you did not speak @ this Back along the road tocVernoy he trudged with his poema under his arm. When he reached, his village he turned into the shopof one Zetg- ler, a Jew out of Armenia, whe sold anything that came to, his hand “Fri ” maid David, “wolves from letter, and ite coptents thru his! protect them. What {tmve you? “A bad day, this, for me, friend Mignot,” said Zeigler; spreading his hands, “for I perceive. that I must sel] you a Weapon'thatewill not feteh study and mt him down/upon He broke the bagk of the against his knee and began to iateugs thal know not his title—-who has been banished for conspiracy against the king. Therg aré some choice fire arms in the lot. This pistol—oh, weapon fit for a prince)—t only forty francs not—4f I lost ten by the sale. Perhaps an arquebuse—” “This will do,” said David, in that sea. Half) the world, he his spectacles and wiped them i rll hundred and nine, when I The flock To that num- il fs a a upon the coals. As they they made a singing, barsh’ sound You went into the fields poet. i He went wp to his attic room and | closed the door. So*quict was ti village that.a score of people the roar of the ‘great pistol flocked thither, and up the where the. smoke, issuing, drew U chattered inva luxury of zealous Some of them ran ot tell ¥' picked up the weapon and ram eye over its.silver mountings witht, mingled air of connoisseurship: grief. ' “The arws.” be explained, aside to the cure, “and Crest of Monseigneus, the Marquis de Beaupertuys,” “that shalt anche me where I dixposed to shirk a duty, You bird, Monsieur Mignot; —The merchandise of the Special Price. Basement is all of special lot purchases which are bought far below regular prices and sold quickly at prices correspondingly less. 100 Serge Skirts | . Exceptional Values at $4.95 —Skirts of splendid quality all- wool serge, in plain tailored and knife plaited styles—some with | novelty pockets. Navy and Black. All sizes, 25 to 80 waist measure. 36 to 40 lengths. Aprons for Thursday $2.39 —A special lot of Slipover Aprons—four new styles in pretty figured, striped and coin-spot percales, —Trimmed with bands of plain color percales, rick- . rack braid‘ and one-inch ruffles. In shadings of Blue, Pink, Lavender and Tan, 4