Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-05-10
THE RED FLAG.
M. E. BRADDON.
Author OF "Lady Audiey's Secret"
etc. etc. etc.

uceuleS, OF moved ueIty ABOUT the SnOp,
polishing and arranging her pots and pans,
while CASTOR Mortemar breakfasted, and
that hour seemed to her always the bright
est in the day. BY the time he had lived
six months in the Rue Git lie Ceur, they
were on very intimate terms. She used TO
upbraid him II he were five minutes later
than his usual honr, and she would pout and
look sorrowfn1 II he seemed In haste TO de-
part. Once she served him a better break.
fast than he had ordered, and wanted TO
supply him with a dainty dish gratis; but
Monsieur Mortemar drew the line here. His
angry flush and naughty frown told the lit
tie widow that she had gone too far.
please to remember that 1 am a gentle
man, and not a piqiedSsiette," he said, ''and
that / eat nothing I annot pay for"
Madame shrugged her shoulders, and said
II was hard she could not offer en- onelette
dur points ddsperges too friend if she
liked.
"When / visit my friends I take what they
choose TO give me-" answered CASTOR cold
ly; but / have no friends in this part of
Paris
Suzon Michel looked as black as thunder,
and took the journalists money in sulky 81
lence. She broke a jug before dlnner-time,
and was snappish 10 her customers all the
rest Of the day.
"What Satan-like prlder' she exclaimed,
thinking Of her fayorlte patron; and then
she muttered a remark which might have
found a place later in the columns Of the
Pere Duchene.
She cried when she wentto bed that night,
cried and sobbed, and swore an oath or two
by way Of solace, before she laid her head
on her pillow. thinking that CASTOR Morte-
MAJ would come no more 10 the little table
at the end Of the shop. But at the usual
time he walked into her Shop, and sat him
self down with m imperturbable visage.
She served his coffee as carefully as ever,
but said never a word. He read a newspa-
per while he breakfasted, paid, and went,
without a word on his part.
Next morning there was q bunch OF daffo-
dis on the little table, a bunch OF yellow
bloom lighting up the shadowy corner
Suzon had trudged to the fower-msr ket be,
fore she opened her shop, TO buy these
spring lowers for the man she loved. Yes,
she loved him, and meant to marry him IL
she could. lie was a gentleman, and she
cundille de cdnatle, But what of thatf
Did not the gutter throne 1t yonder on the
side of the Seine, In the Bots, in the Pare
Monceau-the gutter made glorious In silks
and satins, driving thoroughbred horses,
scattering their lovers substance In waves
Of gold? Did not all that was noblest In the
land lay itself down and srovel at the feet
of THE gutter And her gentleman was poor
and f~riendless; he lived in a garrett and
toiled for q pittance. Surely he would be
willing and glad to marry her, when he
knew that she had saved money, and had
her little investments in the public funds.
He smiled at sight az the first flowers OF
spring, looking UP at the widow, saw that
she was smiling TOO. All her sullen gloom
had melted at sight Of him. She was so glad
he had not forsaken her shop. Perhaps II
would have hurt her even more than his
desertlon 10 have known how insignificant
q figure she made in his life, and how little
he had thought about yesterdays dispute.
He asked her the news and her whole
face beamed at the sound Of his voice. Shs
prattled away gaily for the rest Of the hour
and considered every other customer an in
truder while CASTOR sat at his little table.
"You ought to put up a placard in your
window, with "Relache" upon II, wher
Monsieur Is here" said a grumpy porter, Il
whom she had served q pat OF butter with
seant civility, and whose keen eyes saw tn,
state Of affairs.
This kind of thing went on for more thar
q year. Now and again, when CASTOR wa:
in luck and had made q few francs more
than his ordinary earnings from the news
papers, he rewarded the little widows at
tentions by taking her 10 q theatre, and Civ
ing her an Ice or a supper in the Passage
Jouffroy before he escorted her home. HI
treated her en- grand setgneur on these oc
casions, and these evenings were TO Suzol
Michel rs nights spent in paradise; hours Il
dream about for weeks after they were gone
10 long for with a passionate longing. Ye
they brought her no nearer TO the man sh'
loved or to the realisation Of her hopes. No
a word was ever spoken of love or marriage
When they parted on the steps OF the cre,n
eric, while the bells OF Notre Dame wer'
Ginning one of the quarters after midnight
they were as far apart as ever. Ii she wa
ever 10 be Madame Mortcmar the offer o
marriage must come from her Owl lips, Su
zon thought; and she would not have sIrunl
from telling the man of her choice OF thos'
snug little investments, and her willing
/ DOnS W NiANAN llOA GCtllOIbACo w nm
Feminine delicacy would not have hindere,
such an avowal; but there was something II
the man himself which sealed her lips.
CASTOR was as cold as Ice, as calm as mai
bic. He had that amiable languor of speed
and manner which clever young men ar
apt TO affect, until 1t becomes a second ma
ture. He talked like q mar who had live
through every experience that life could OF
fer to r~eprobate youth, who had grown oil
in evil before Time had written a wrinkl
on his brow.
"Ah, but he has lived. that youthp' sal,
the knowing ones of the quarter. He ha
s~quandered the paternal fortune on actress
es and cocottes, and now he has to writ
for his bread"
The fact wa that CASTOR Mortemar ha
never had a napoleon to bestow upon any
body, for good or evil. He had worked 70
his daily bread ever since he left the schoo
Of Albert the Great, where he had been on
of the brightest pupils OF the good Domin
cans. He had never been rich enough to b
profigate In a grand way and he was to
proud, too refined TO stoop to cheap vict
ne was, ike Alfred de Musset o land
born, created with refined tastes and loft
aspirations; but poverty had embittere
him. He had fed his mind with the writ
ings of Villon and yoltaire and Rousseau
Theophlle Gautier, Musset, Baudelaire, an
Flaubert. He was a cynic to the marrow 0
his bones. He tried to surpass Voltaire !
acrimony, Rousseau In discomfort, and iasl
cd himself into fury when he wrote abou
the great ones Of the earth.
One day he met Kathleen O'Hara In IT,
morning sunshine, coming In from be
marketing, Just as he was going out {
breakfast, with q neat gray gown aud q pals
blue neck-ribbon. and a basket OF letfuc
and redishes on her arm; ana he thought II
law a Greuze that had suddenly becom
flesh and blood, and had walked out OF !.
frame In the Louvre y0nder, across tn
shining river. He forgot his good tanners
and turned to look after her as she crosse
the yard and tripped up the steps OF fhs
house which he had just left. lie kne'
that two girls occupied one half OF the thir
story, but they had kept themselves socios
that he had only seen the elder sister, ono
in q way, on the staircase. Madame Sch
bert was standing In her doorway, scentin
the morning air, and watching the going
and comings of her neighbors. She an
CASTOR had long been on friendly terms, 9
She gave him a little nod, and laughed as d
passed her door.
.yuenrtue, nes-ce pas, mon gdrconF "a
screamed, i'm her shriil treble, with IN
boulevard ST. Michel twang.
$50