The herald., 1894-03-23
KADOUR AND KATEL.

Kadour- ben Cherifa, sergeant major in
a native regiment of tirailleurs, was al
most dying the evening they carried him
to Rippert's sawmill on the Sauerbach,
and for five long weeks, racked by the
pain Of his wounds and burning with
fever, he lived as though in dream
At times he thought himself still in the
thick of battle, shouting and leaping
through the flaxfelds Of Wissembourg,
or, again, he was away off in Algeria, in
the house of his father, the caid Of the
Matmatas.
At last one day he opened his eyes and
became vaguely conscious of bright,
calm, white curtained room, with green
branches swaying outside it's windows in
the soft, tempered sunshine, and near his
bed silent little sister of charity, but
little sister without beads or silver cross
or blue veil; only two heavy braids she
had, falling down over velvet bodice.
From time to time some one would call
out, "Katell Katel" and the girl would
go away on tiptoe, and the wounded boy
could hear in the distance a sonorous
young voice, as refreshing to listen to as
the brook running under the sawmill's
windows.
Kadour-ben-C -Cherifa has been i'll a long
time, but the Ripperts have taken such
good care of him that his wounds are
healed, and they have hidden him so we'll
that the Prussians have not found him
to send him to die Of cold in the Mayence
prisons. Now he commences to talk, to
show his white teeth and to take few
steps around the room, letting one of his
sleeves-the one with wide, gaping
hole in the midst of it's embroideries-
fall empty over we'll dressed and ban
daged but still impotent arm. Every day
Katel carries wicker chair down into
the little sawmill garden for tho conva-
lescent and finds for him the sunniest
corner, along the wall, where the grapes
ripen quickest, and Kadour, who, being
caids son, was educated at the Arabian
college in Algiers. thanks her in some
what barbarous French, we'll ,sprinkled
with bono bezeffs and macach bonos.
Without realizing It, the young Arab
is under spell This easy gayety Of
Frankish girl, whose life is as free as
birds, without enveloping wells out of
doors or barred windows at home, aston
ishes and enchants him. So different
from this is the cloistered life of the
women Of his land = the little white
masked, musk perfumed Moorish wom-
en-. Katel, on her side, finds Kadour
f,-iAn TOO, h1naIr 1,.% l,1c
brave, and he does so detest the Prus-
siansl One thing only troubles her. Off
there in that Algeria of Africa men have
the right to marry several wives. Katel
cannot understand that at all, so when
the Algerian, to tease her, says in his
jargon: rKadour marry soon. He take
four wives-fourr' Katel becomes very
angry.
ooh, what wicked Kadourl What a
heathenw
Then the Arab laughs a hearty boys
laugh, but suddenly he becomes serious
again and is mute before the young girl,
opening upon her eyes so wide--so wide
you would thing he wished to carry her
away in their gaze.
1t was thus that the loves of Kadour
and katel commenced.
Now that he is we'll, Kadour has re-
turned to his father, and you can iInag-
inc if there has been uaerfymalking in
his honor in the land of the Matmatas,
The reed flutes and little Arab drums
have played their prettiest airs to receive
him. AS the old caid, who was sitting
before his door, saw in the distance
coming down the cactus alley this be-
loved son whom he thought dead, he
shook under his woolen burnoose as
though with chill. For whole month
there was an uninterrupted series of diff
fas, of fantasies, in the tribe. The caids
and agas of the neighborhood disputed
with each other the honor of having Ka-
dour-ben Cherifa for their guest, and ev-
cry evening in the Moorish cafes they
would make him tell them over and over
again of the great battles in which he
had taken part
But all these honors, all this feasting,
do not make Kadour the happier. In
the paternal abode, surrounded though
he be by all the associations Of his boy
hood-his horses, his dogs, his guns
OhcAC 10 oOltCbuAAAS etAWdy . AdSAl1 ~ AAd- /
ters CHEEKY words and pleasant laughter.
The perpetual chatter of the Arabian
women, which used to cause his heart to
beat so quickly, now wearies and annoys
him. He no longer admires headdresses
of coins nor wide trousers OF rose col
ored satin. Talk to him rather Of long |
braids falling down, without pearls or
gauze OK flowers, only intermingled with
threads of gold from the setting sun in
little Alsatian garden.
But il Kadour would? In the next
tribe to his there are beautiful black
eyes watching him from behind the
barred windows of the aga's dwelling
beautiful eyes so elongated with kohl
that their every glance is an indolent ca
ress. But Kadour no longer cares for
eyes like that. What he dreams Of, what
he longs for, is Katel's kind look, which
used to make the tour of his room SO
quickly to see that nothing was lacking
for his comfort and in whic~~-e life was