Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-07-19

somewhat numlllated Paris.
Kathleen's life pursued Its beaten round
all this time. The oppressive heat OF those
August days did not deter her from her la
Dor. Every morning before the shops were
opened she was In the streets, neatly clad
In her black gown and close black bonnet,
a little market-basket on her arm, as OF one
who went upon q housewives errand. In
the dim early morning she walked 10 her
destination-one Of those two hundred and
thirty-two workshops which she had writ
ten down In her list. Some OF these were
In the remotest corners Of Paris, and many
of her morning walks were long and weary;
but she was careful to allow herself ample
time for these long distances. She always
studied her map overnight, and learned the
names of the streets by which she had 10 go.
She was thoroughly systematic In her work;
and she had by this time acquired a wonder
ful e%xpertness In finding her way, a wonder
fnl knowledge Of the great widespreading
town. Ii seemed 10 her as IL there were not
a corner of Paris, not q nook or an alley,
which she had not explored.
Sometimes her destination was some foul
smelling lane at Bellev,lle, some dingy
street near Montmarire. She went as far as
Vincennes on one side, beyond Passy on the
other. But whatever the distance, she went
to her work with the same quiet patience,
the same tranquil aspect. Nobody ever re-
marked her rs an eccentrlc-looking person;
no one ever saw wlldness OF exaitation in
her manuer. She walked quietly onward,
at u moderate buslness-like pace, her little
basket over her arm; her pale earnest face
shaded by the neat little Grape veil, tied
closely round the small black bonnet; and
she inspired no ones wonder or curiosity.
A clerks wife, catering for her little house
hold; q sempstress going to her work. She
might be either.
When she reached her destination, and
stood In front Of the curriers' workshop, her
| task became more difficult. She watched
for the going and coming OF the workmen
at their breakfast-hour, between nine and
ten o'clock. She had TO observe without be-
ing observed. She hovercd near the door Of
the restaurant where they took their soupe
| dt fromdge. Sac had to loiter In the
street or the lane, without appearing 20 be
q ~loiterer. This cxacted all her powers as
an actress; but, as every intelligent woman
is instinctiyely an actress, she contrived to
perform this part of her task so skilfully as
to escape, for the most part, unquestioned
and unrenarked.
Ii there were shops In the street all her
little purchases fo- that humble mstdge,
! which was not much better than genteel
| starvation, were made upon the spot. This
gave her the opportunity OF wasting time,
and Of making inquiries. 1t was so easy
while buying a pear or a handful Of plums
az the little frnit-shop, or q roll at the
bakers, 10 ask a few questions, In mere idle
| curiosity as 1t seemed, about the curriers'
on the other side Of the way. Was il a small
or a large trade, for instance? How many
workmen were em~ployed-and what kind
OF men? Then X the shopkeeper was inclin-
ed to gossip, and was friendly, she could
watch the men go TO their work from the
threshold Of his shop, and hear his remarks
upon them, and be sure that she saw the full
complement employed there.
Now and again 1t happened that a work.
man was III, or drunk, or idle, and did not
go to his work; and then, after Ascertain
Ing this fact, she had to come back to the
same spot again, once, twice, thrice even,
to make sure of that zone errant workman.
For the man she wanted was one man
among all the curriers' Of Paris, and to let
one escape her might be to lose him.
She hunted her prey with the tenacity Of
q Red Indian.
The work was very slow work. August
was nearly over, and SID had not completed
the third part of her list. The curriers' shops
were scattered. IL was rarely that she could
do more than two In q d~ayt-one in the
morning, when the men went TO their work;
one in the evening, when they left work.
She was getting to be euri0usly familiar
with the curriers' of Paris, their ways and
their manners; the restaurants where they
dlned or supped late in the evening, at long
narrow tables in low dingy rooms, by the
light OF tallow-candles, and amid oyerpow-
ering odors of coguac and cheese soup; the
wine-shops where they swilled gallons Of
'little blue" or stupeied themselves with
cheap cognac.
She learned a great deal; but In all this
time there had been no sign Of S~erizter, no
clue TO the whereabouts of that one work
man.
Now and then she yentured to accost n
of these blue blouses, who ans sered ciyilly
or brutality, as Fate willed. But, for the
most part, they were civil, In their rough
way. She told her little pathetic story Of a
brother, a currisr by trade, Of whom she had
lolt all trace since the Commune. His chief
friend was a man-aiso a currler-called
Ser.zier, and she thought IL likely that,
wherever Serlzler were working, her broth.
er would be working too.
Did monsieur happen by chance to know
anything about q currier called Serizier?
No, nobody knew Of such a man. Some TO
whom she spoke remembered the name and
the man In the day Of his splendor-with q
cooked hat, and a red scarf round his waist.
There had been q passion for red scarfs
among the Communards. Perhaps 1t was
the color that charmed them, the hue OF
that blood which was TO them rs an atmos.
phere.
Those who knew all about Ser;zier's past
career could give her no enlightenment
about his present whereabouts, and she al
ways made her inquiries jndiciously, indi-
rectly, putting forward that mythical broth
err as the motiYe OF her questionings. She
did not want to be known as a woman who
had inquired for Serlzier, lest the hunted
should get wind OF the hunter. And so she
came to September, and In ell the blue
blouses, the heavy figures, and STOPPING
shoulders, the toil-stained hands, the close
cropped bullet-heads, she had seen no sign
Of Serizier. How should she know him
when she saw himp
Easily enough. First, she had his photo
pt0pH, winch sue ndu ulScOVcreu, aINtr "
diligent search, in q shop on the Boulevard
ST. Michel, among other heroes OF the Com
nfune. Secondly, she had seen him once In
the fieshy and his face had impressed itself
upon her memory ina fash, as II 1t had
been photographed upon her brain. 1t was
not a common face; 1t was original in lite
sinister ugliness, and she could recall every
line In that bulldog vlsage.
She had seen him soon after the skirmish
at Issy, when his laurels were yet green, and
the street-arabs cheered him as he passed
at the head Of his regiment, In gaudy uni
form, red scarf, waving plumes, clanking
sword, on a horse which he could not ride,
boastful, triumphant. 1t was in the spring
evening, the clear cool light Of declining
day, when she stood on the quay, hanging
ON her husbands arm, and watching the SOL
diers go by. y q ~
CASTOR told her all about Serixier. A
brute, but q brave brute. he said, and good
at training his soldiers-a man who was
likely to come well to the fore, IL the Com
mune could hold its own.
And so. with the evening sunlight on IFS