The Leon reporter., 1900-08-16
TASCA.

III IAC WI III was COHClCu Will d VdSk
white mantle, hiding it's angularities
Ind crudities, and presenting only
smooth, unbroken surface to the glow
ing skies above. In the streets below
numbers of figures like puppets in a
show ran to and fro in the mad strife
of living. Afar off In the distance
scjntillated many groups of electric
balls hang from high towers. This
was st. Petersburg and mid-winter.
He tapped idly upon the pane OF
glass with his long, tapering fingers.
and as he beat out in an impatient tat
too rhythmic Slavonic melody, his
mind was actively intent upon other
surroundings than this.
How he hated ST. Petersburg and
winter! How he hated wealth and des-
potic fathers! Why should he not have
been free, like those young English
men with whom he had spent six
months of his last year. They were all
younger sons, every one of them. Pen
niless and happy, they herded cattle
on the Pacific slope of North America.
How freely she came among them
fearlessly, innocently, with her clean
limbed pony, her bright eyes and her
red rebosso-Tasca, the boys called
her, but what her name really was
strange that he never had thought to
ask!
They would meet afar down the
lonely prairie and sit amid the sage
bushes while their ponies grazed near
hu nd mt, OF nh ~+l ;,, Nv,
preme contentment, they needed not
words to express the joy, the rapture,
of living.
Again he saw the deep red glow OF
the sun on that last evening together
Again he marked her sloe black eyes,
the long, straight lashes, the curled
crimson lip, and his eyes followed tho
straight fold of her short black serga
shirt, where the little foot with ita
high Spanish instep peeped temptingly
forth. They had told him that mixed
with the mild Aztec strain in Tasca' s
veins ran the vigorous and vengeful
blood of the Spanish invader All, lit
tie he knew or cared what race called
her its own, what her family, what he1
kind! Suffice it, he loved her.
That last night love held him slave
| His tattooing came to violent and in
harmonious end, and broke in a series
of wild disconnected chords that fell
| on the stiffness of the luxurious apart
ment like the wall of lost soul wand
ering in purgatorial depths. He start
ed-that wall was SO real-then vici-
ously bit at his old Virginia cheroot,
the last Of quantity carried over from
America to this accursed land.
At the late hour of that last night.
The pale moon on the wane-the warm
air-the cattle taking their rest in the
corral hard blythe white light on the
sage bushes and-Tasca! He swore
that, come veal or come woe, she was
his wife, his only!
Only that afternoon they had ridden
miles across country to the little padre
in the mission church-she would have
1t thus-the PADRES blessing they must
have. He swore that nothing in heav-
en- or on earth could make him prove
untrue. Even hell itself could not keer
him from her; and he left her to re-
turn home at the bidding of his father
How long ago that was! Nine long
dreary months. The first three spent
at the bedside of fretful querulous
father, never daring to talk of Amer.
ica lest it should send him into one
of those frightful paroxysms of rage
which had overcome him for the first
time on the morning when he, AleXan.
der, essayed to speak of Tasca.
Course you!" foamed the father. ''In.
fernal whelp of an internal dam, thou
shalt marry Alexandra Alexovltch
whose mother have ever loved!"
mot the daughter of that accursec
rival of my mother.
Il want nothing, father. Let me re.
turn to America, but be kind to my
mother"
Elizabeth Alexovitch shall take hel
place if thou, my lawful son. defy me-
| And choking, he fell in hideous con.
vulsions.
God permitted that tyrant to live.
They were decorating the chape
near by. The good father had sent te
his gold mines in Siberia for treasures
and gold; silver, malacnlte and pre-
cious jewels hedecked the altar, ready
for the bridal tomorrow.
The women are busy in another part
of the house; the pale mother listless-
ly doing that in which she had nc
heart, her rival, radiant and domineer-
ing, dominating all things; the fal
general wheezy and overbearing, sub.
mitting everything to the Judgment oil
Elizabeth Alexovitch, and the pale
blonde Alexandra bemoaning her heart
out for love of Paul Demidof-all un-
happy because of one, nay, two selfish
natures
He mad not touched the window-yet
that cry-that broken chord - that
wall! A child's voice and-Tasca's!
Yes, she was before him now. The
| short black skirt, the red robosso, the
curved lips, but God! how white. how
worn, how wearled she looked! What
was it she held out to him? A babe
his babe-ah, thank God, they had
come! The little Virgin in the chapel
should have an apron full of gold
| pieces.
"Tasca! he called and grasped-air
For moment he looked vacantly al
| the graceful figure of his bride, then
out at the shrouded city, then turn
ing again to grasp his loved ones, fell
amidst pomp and luxury, dead.
In little adobe hut on the Pacific