The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-06-16

appearing ridiculous in her eyes. To her
this was sufficient proof that he was not
in love. Anxious to warn him against
life's snares, she continued to show him
a calm, motherly affection, and the
thought Of having for Jacques any othec
sentiment would nave shocked her.
After spending the greater part of an
exceedingly hot day indoors, they went
n evening for their accustomed after
dinner stroll in the fields. The setting
sun poured its purple rays owe the
country. tingeing sky and meadows,
houses and trees with fire. The ocean
was notified with red spots, forming
bloody streak..
Hardly a haystack's irregular one
stood out in melancholy profile against
the sky.
Lets climb til" said Jacques.
Marguerite gleefully clapped her hands.
Jacques went on to reconnoiter. The
road was deserted. No one was to be
seen in the neighborhood.
She began the ascent with great diff
Guilty. Her feet would slip, her fingers
lose their hold, while the bits of dry hay
scratched her face. Her more sturdy
companion followedand helpedher along.
Reaching the top, they sat down and
looked at each other, then burst out
laughing like schoolboys stealing fruit
or serious persons caught in a foolish act.
The descent was more easily accom-
plished. The gayety had passed, and
both opened books they had brought.
Jacques lay flat on the ground, resting
upon his elbow. Marguerite wa stretch
ed on a pile Of hay which formed a sort
Of chaise Tongue. Her tiny feet just
peeped from under the hem of her gown.
The thin cloth shoes perfectly outlined
her arched instep and delicate ankles.
It was too hot to read. They were
both silent. Jacques eyes were riveted
on Marguerite. Her red lips trembled
like a flower under the breeze. Her soft,
white throat was smooth as the surface
of a lake. At every breath her bosom
heaved, and the thin material of her
dress swelled like a sail. Her whole
personality exhaled the subtle perfume
of elegance. It was the first time
Jacques had noticed these charming de-
tails, and unconsciously he became alb
sorbed in their contemplation. Little
by little his thoughts became confused;
his soul rose to his eyes. He breathed
with difficulty, and a languor crept over
him. The heat of the day mounted to
his head and intoxicated him.
The country around was resting after
the days heat. In the farof fields wom-
en- were gathering potatoes, and near
them little boys threw clods of earth at
each other. From time to time the cows
lying on the grass would low and turn
their heads toward the setting sun as to-
ward a departing friend.
Suddenly through the silent fields rang
the cries of an angry voice.
1.-THE field guard" exclaimed Mar
guerite.
In the distance was a man ge~sticulating
threateningly at this couple, who had
pulled down his carefully stacked hay.
Like two guilty children, their first
thought was to fly from the ruined hay
stack. The boy was up with one bound.
But in her haste Marguerite lost her bel
ance and fell. He caught her in his arms
and righted her.
They ran across the field. For an in
slant they hid behind a large mound of
earth, then made straight for the beach.
Here they sought shelter in a hut used
only by the customs officers and kept
very still, fearing to give their pursuer
the alarm.
Seated on the narrow bench Nine.
Helm leaned against Jacques. She had
never seemed so beautiful. Out of breath
from the run her cheeks were red. her
nostrils quivered. With Bonded neck
and wide open eyes she listened in laugh
ing anxiety for the steps outside.
His ecstasy was complete. Putting
his arm around her waist he drew closer
to her. Turning to him in childish glee
she said. Jacques, we are saved!"
1t was the first time she had called him
simply Jacques, and the boy lost his
head; with a brusque movement he seized
Marguerite's hand and imprinted on her
wrist a passionate kiss.
Very pale, she rose, not knowing what
to say or think. A great remorse struck
her like a knife. Had she shown too
much affection for Jacques? Had she
been guilty of coquetry toward him?
The days of their intercourse flashed
through her memory, and she found her
self guilty.
Instantly she resolved by some cruelty
which Jacques could not forgive to kill
the love she had inspired. She castupon
the boy one last look of infinite tender
ness; then, gathering all her strength for
the deathblow, she said in her cold, beau
tiful voice:
"You little foolw-Translated For Ar
gonaut From the French of Albert Gui-
non by Alice Ziska.