The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-04-30

what you ask, he SAID Win q SORT OF
soldierly bluntnesS in his voice and man
ner, 'but it is utterly impossible. The
French do not respect Us, nor we them.
There can be no exchange Of courtesies
between US; 50 you see how my hands
are tied in the matter"
Pauline clasped her hands and great
tears dropped down her cheeks. Cortes
saw her bitter disappointment with a
sense of something like contempt for
himself on account of his powerless con-
dition.
believe me, mademoiselle," he e1-
claimed with sudden fervor, 81 would
gladly give you my life to serve you
even in the least degree"
"I believe you, sir, and thank you
from the bottom of my heart. You are
nobly generous. But is there indeed no
way? Must I choose between death and
the acceptance of this life now afforded
to me?"
Something in her tone and manner
sent shock through the young mans
breast. Within the past few minutes
there had come upon him the sweet, rich
and yet saddening experience of love and
loss. Before him sat the fairest and love-
lest apparition that had ever blessed his
vision. In his heart she had set the
fountains of spring to flowing-the song
and the bloom to gushing. The old, old
story of the sudden coming of passion
and the sudden realization of It's hope
lessness had been told once more between
the soft pulses of the sub-tropic breeze.
He bowed his head until his dark fore
head touched the plume of his hat which
rested on bis knee. For one moment he
gave way To selfishness, and the thought
swept through his mind that he might
have his own way with fate.
Il am sorry to have panied you" said
Pauline presently. 81 owe my life to
you and fear that have appeared un-
grateful. Pray forgive me-"
Her words sounded to him like the re-
buke of an angel. He looked up and
said, as if in self defense:
''You owe me nothing but execration.
1t was who sunk the vessel which was
bearing you TO your lover. 1t was l
who deprived you of more than life.
Obi Mademoiselle, mademoiselle"- He
checked himself with great effort and
rising stood before her quite calm but
pale, his eyes burning almost fiercely,
his sunburnt cheeks showing the lines of
suppressed but almost overpowering emo
ton.
"You did but your duty. have thought
all about it" she said, "and l do not
blame you for it; but am no prisoner
of war, being nothing but a poor girl
whom fate has cast into your hands;
wherefore it seems to me that you might
let me go in all honor"
81 would not hold you one moment"
he exclaimed quickly. You are as free
as am; but there is no possible way for
you to pass from her to Mobile. The
thought is utterly untenabie-the thing
is impossible and not to be dreamed of. ;"
No interview ever was more depressing
and unsatisfactory to the parties holding
it. Pauline felt that it ended all hope,
at least for the present, and she lay upon
her couch disheartened and purposeless.
Cortes went away thoroughly wretched
and at war with himself. He was in love
with Pauline; his warm, arrogant Span
ish nature had broken the bounds at once
and now there was no limit to the passion
that possessed him; but his chivalrous
sense Of honor, though overwhelmed, was
immovable. The impression haunted him
that, for the reason that Pauline was in
his power, he ought to free her, and be-
cause of his love for her he ought to re-
store her to her lover. 1t was well TO
harbCT these sentiments, but what lover
could act upon them?
Days and weeks passed by, during
which Cortes brooded over the situation.
Now and again he resolved that he would
attempt to send Pauline to Mobile by some
method, but as often he remembered
his duty as a soldier. The French at
Mobile were the very incarnation Of all
that was hated by the Spaniards at Pen
sacola, and to do any kind act for one Of
them was repugna1t TO every pulse in a
true Spanish soldiers veins. Doubtless
the young captains passion for his fair
captive made this repugnance all the
more fierce and bitter, for the thought Of
resigning that captive to the arms of one
Louis Doucet of the hated French gar
rison was the refinement oftorture. Still
he acknowledged In the deepest caves Of
his breast that duty of the highest and
most sacred sort demanded that he should
never rest until Pauline dc Ia Chasie and
Louis Doucet, separated by him, should
be united by him. 1t is easy to see how,
ordinarily, a struggle of this sort would
end. Love, extol it as we may, is the
hot bed of a certain kind Of unconquer-
able selfshneSs. Rare, indeed, are the
instances where love has been self sacri-
icing enough 20 turn over to It's rival the
object Of its desire. There were moments
when Cortes would have made the sacri-
fee, and at all times he tortured himself
between the fame Of passion and the hot
iron Of conscience; but he was human,
he found excuses for faltering and hest
tating, nav even for what appeared TO
him harmless deception.
Almost every day he found time to see
Pauline and 10 offer her some delicate
attention. Meantime, as the summer
passed away, Indian couriers began to
bring word Of preparations going for
ward among the French at Mobile for a.
expedition against Pensacola
u have not a doubt that Bienvilis
will attack Us soon" said Cortes, one
morning early in September.
"And he viii take the town, and
them exclaimed Pauline, clasping
her hands and flushing suddenly.
She was sitting by the window. Re
turning health had made her form and
her face dorhIv beautiful IN the ewes Of