The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-08-26

denly he raised it, and grinding MS teeth
he brought it down upon chair, the
back of which, split in two, fell heavily
to the ground.
He opened his door to go out, but stop
ped upon the threshold, surprised by
such a splendor Of moonlight as you
seldom see.
And since he was endowed with an
exalted spirit-such spirit as must
have belonged to those dreamy poets,
the fathers Of the church-he felt him
self suddenly distracted, moved by the
grand and serene beauty of the pale
faced night.
In his little garden, quite bathed with
the soft brilhance, his fruit trees, all
arrow, were outlining in shadow upon
the walk, their slender limbs of wood
scarce clothed by verdure, while the
giant honeysuckle climbing On the house
wall exhaled delicious, sugared breaths,
and seemed 70 cause to hover through
the warm, clear night a perfumed soul.
He began to breathe deep, drinking
the air as drunkards drink their wine,
and he walked slowly, being ravished,
astounded and almost oblivious of his
niece.
AS soon as he came into the open coun-
try he stopped to contemplate the whole
plain, SO inundated by this caressing
radiance, so drowned in the tender and
languishing charm of the serene nights.
At every instant the frogs threw into
space their short metallic notes, and the
distant nightingales mingled with the
seduction of the moonlight that ftful
music of theirs which brings no thoughts
but dreams, that light and vibrant melody
Of theirs which is composed Of kisses.
The abbe continued his course, his
courage failing, he knew not why. He
felt, as it were, enfeebled, and suddenly
exhausted; he had a great desire to sit
down, to pause here, to praise God in all
his works.
Down there, following the bends of
the little river, wound great line of
poplars. On and about the banks,
wrapping all the tortuous watercourse
with a kind of light, transparent
wadding, hung suspended a fine mist,
white vapor which the moon rays crossed
and silvered, and caused to CLEAN.
The priest paused, yet again penetrat-
ed to the bottom Of his soul by a strong
and growing emotion.
And a doubt, a vague uneasiness,
seized on him; he perceived that one of
those questions which he sometimes put
to himself was now being born.
Why had God done this? Since the
night is destined for sleep, for uncon-
sciousness, for repose, for forgetfulness
of everything, why, then, make it moro
charming than the day, sweeter than
the dawns and the sunsets? And this
slow seductive star, more poetical than
the sun, and so discreet that it seems de-
signed to light up things too delicate,
too mysterious, for the great luminary
why was it come to brighten all the
shades?
Why did not the cleyerest of all song
sters go to rest like the others? And
why did he set himself to singing in the
vaguely troubling dark?
Why this half veil over the world?
Why these quiverings Of the heart, this
emotion of the soul, this languor of the
body?
Why this display of seductions which
For whom was intended this sublime
spectacle, this food Of poetry poured
from heaven to earth?
And the a5be did not understand at
all.
But now, see, down there along the
edge of the field appeared two shadows
walking side by side under the arched
roof of the trees all soaked in glittering
mist.
The man was the taller and had his
arm about his mistress neck, and from
time to time he kissed her on the fore
head. They animated suddenly the life
less landscape which enveloped them
like a divine frame made expressly for
this. They seemed, these two, like one
being, the being for whom was destined
this calm and silent night; and they
came up toward the priest like living
answer, the answer vouchsafed by his
master to his question.
He stood stock still, quite overwhelm-
ed and with beating heart. And he
thought to see here some Bible story
like the loves of Ruth and Boaz, the ac-
complishment of the will Of the Lord in
one of those great scenes talked of in the
holy books.
Through his head began to hum the
of the Song of Songs, the ar
dent cries, the calls Of the body, all the
passionate poetry Of that poem which
burns with tenderness and love.
And he said TO himself, God perhaps
has made such nights as this to clothe
with the ideal the loves Of men"
He withdrew before this couple, who
went ever arm in arm. For all that it
was really his niece: but now he asked
himself if he was not about TO disobey
God. And does not God indeed permit
love, since he surrounds it visi bly, with
splendor such as this?
And he fed in amaze, almost ashamed,
as if he had penetrated into temple
where he had not the night to go.-Guy
De Maupasant.
Contented.
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