The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-08-19
The ddlirta Daily Eagle Tuesday orms august 1e 1880

| SlIkS, CIuo cOISefStS ti4I Df1E1ule0 Will RO1O
lace, red riding boots for his little chief
paying for alkwithout haggEng and spread
ing his JOY about IN beautiful donros. He
was seen in the bazaars, seated on the
Smyrna carpets, drinking coffee at the door
with the Moorish merchants, who congratu-
| lated him.
| The crowd pressed about. curious to see
| him One said: There is Si-S1iman, the
emberour has sent him the cross" and the
| little Moorish maidens, entering from the
baths and eating their pastry cakes as they
went, stole long glances of admiration
from beneath their white masks towards
that beautiful new silver cross so proudly
worn. All! we do, indeed, have occasional
| beautiful moments in this lie.
AS evening drew on Si-Sliman prepared
! to rejoin his retinue and already had his
| foot in the stirrup, when a messenger from
the prefecture came painting up to him:
Here thou art, Si-Shman, have search
| ed for thee everywhere Come quickly, the
governor wishes 80 speak with thee"
Si4Sliman followed him confidently, but
in crossing the great Moorish court yard
Of the palace he met his chief of bureau,
who gave him an evil smile. This smile
from an enemy frightened him, and he
governor. The marshal received him seat
ed astride a chair. 'fSi-SliInan," he said.
with his ordinary brutality and that IA
nous nasal voice which always caused
those who surrounded him 60 trembIe, ''Si-
Slinan, my man, l am distressed. 1t is
not thou who shouIdst have been deco
rated. 1t is the kaid of the Zoug-Zougs.
Thou must give back thy cross"
i : s n
blushed as before the Gre OF a forge. A
convulsive movement shook his tall form.
His eyes hlazed. But it was only fash.
He lowered them almost Immediately and
bowed before the governor.
Thou art the master, ny lord, " he said,
and pulling the cross from his breast he
laid it on the table His hand trembled;
tears stood on his long lashes, Old Pelis-
Sier was touched.
Come, come, my brave man, it will be
ready for next year"
And he held out his hand with friend
~ air.
The chief feigned not to see #, bowed
without replying, and left the room.
He knew how much faith to place IN the
promise of the marshal, and saw himself
forever dishonored by an intrigue. The
story Of his disgrace had already spread
through the town. The Jews of the Rue
Bah Azoun sneered as he passed. The
Moorish merchants, on the contrary, turned
away from him with glance of pity, and
the pity hurt him more than the laughter.
lie went his way, keeping close to the walls
and through the darkest lanes. The spot
where his cross had lain burned him like
an open wound, and all the time he
thought: what will my cavaliers say,
what will my women say?"
Then he was seized with a fit of rage.
He saw himself preaching the "holy war"
on the frontier Of Morocco, always red
with fire and battle, or roaming the streets
of Algiers at the head of his horsemen,
piilaging The Jews, staying the Christians,
and falling himself in the great devasta-
ton where his shame would be forever
hidden. Anything seemed possible to him
rather than return to the tribe. All at
once, in the midst of his vengeance, the
thought of the emberour flashed upon
him like light.
The emberour! For Si-Sliman, as for
all the Arabs, all ideas of Justice and of
power were summed up in this one word
He was the true chief of the faithful. He
was a faith for these Mussulmans in their
decline. That other one, he cf STEAMBOAT, ap-
peared to them from afar, ike an incarna-
ton of good, a sort of invisible pope, who
kept for himself only the spiritual power,
and in the Hegira in which we live it is
well known how much that is worth
But the emberour, with his great can
non, his zouayes and his iron feet! From
the moment he thought of him, Si-Sliman
believed himself saved. Surely the en-
peror would give him hack his cross. 1t
was only an affair of an eight days jour
ney, and he believed SO firmly in his sue
cess that he instructed his followers to
await his return at the gate of Algiers.
The next days packet started him towards
Paris, meditative and serene, as if for a
to Mecca.
Poor Si-Slimanl ii was four months since
he left, and his letters to his wives spoke
not yet Of return. For four months the IN
happy chief had been lost in the whirlpool /
of Paris, passing his life In running from
one ministry to another, everywhere ridi- !
culed, caught in the formidable gear of the |
French administration, sent from bureau I!
to bureau, soiling his burnOuse on the |
wooden seats of the ante-chambers, on the /
watch for an audience which he never OBJ |
tanned; then, in the evening ne might be |
seen, WIN MS ICEts, SHU lace, ridiculous by /
its majesty, waiting for his key IN a Iodg- |
ing house Office and mounting TO his room,
weary with wandering but always proud, |
clinging TO hope and desperate as a gambler |
his honor.
In the meantime his cavaliers, squatting |
at the Bah Azoun gate, waited with orien- |
tai fatalism; the horses, picketed ont, |
neighed from the sea shore. In the tribe
all was in suspense. The harvest withered |
in the fields for lack of laborerB. The |
women and children counted the days, with /
eyes turned towards Paris. 1t was pitifUl /
to see how many hopes and how much
despair and ruin followed already in the
wake Of this bit OF red ribbon. When
would it all end?
God alone knows" said the old coffee
man, with sigh, and by the half open
door, above the sad purple plain, his bare
arm pointed TO young crescent moon
rising in the misty heavens.-Alphonse
Daudet
One of Many.
L - L