The Saint Paul globe., 1900-04-12


the French.
I was a member of the local group and
enjoyed the confidence Of the leading
revolutloniSts at the university. To help
free my country from foreign oppression
was the ideal of my family, and even my
old mother, who shed tears over my
future, was proud of the part played
in the councils of the movement She
felt sure ! would be arrested and ~exiied
or executed, and she spent many a sleep
less night on account of 1t, but she was
willing to give me to the cause, to sacri-
fice her only child on the altar Of Pol
and's freedom. as she often put 1t, trem-
ulously. using the solemn language which
ner overlooking heart prompted. Poor
womani SO full was she of these thoughts
and anxieties that she had not the heart
to go near a uniformed Russian. ''Soon-
er or later they will kiIl my son." she
would say. How can 1 bear to look at
them?"
We were all very busy in those days.
The committee had no difficulty in snug
Cling over pamphlets and leaflets, and
we had plenty to do to distribute them
The city was full of spies, but, then,
many Of the officials upon whom the gov.
ernment relied in its struggle against us,
were devoted members of secret groups
Each of us could have been arrested at
any moment, but our heads were too hot,
our hearts too full OF enthusiasm to re-
alfze the danger which surrounded us
wherever we turned. 1 remember how
we 1oked each other upon our chances
Of being locked up and hanged. To judge
from the way we discussed these mat
ters, you would have thought it all
child's play, or. at least, that we took It
for chdlds play. But I can assure you
we did not. At the bottom of our hearts
each of us knew that he was playing
with fire, and that it was only matter
of months, or weeks, perhaps, when ii
would be all over with his freedom. But.
as l have said we were too excited to
mind It,
One morning as 1 was about to enter
the house of one of our leaders my atten-
tion was arrested by young man, who
was saunter1ng along the opposite side
walk. My pockets were full of cemprom-
ising literature, and as 1 took a look at
the man out of the corner Of my eye, 1t
struck me that he was watching me.
Was he spy? Whether he was or not.
I would take no chances. To enter my
friends house was out of the question; !;
to quicken pace or take a cab would be
equally unWise. had to disappear with
out attracting attention, and how was l
to do it? 1 took out a cigar and lit 1t
as slowly as could, observing the man
across the street all the while. He paused
in front of a window, but took up such a
position that he could pretend to be gaZ-
Ing at the window and at the same time
keep his eye on me. 1t seemed to be
clear that the fellow was shadowing me.
The blood rushed into my head, but l
forthwith steadied myself and regained
my composure.
I remember that one of the houses on
the next block had an open court, and.
without stopping to think what good 1t
would do me, I started thither. never
turned back, but could hear the sI'y's
footsteps behind me. I walked on at a
leiSurely gait, not daring to look round
until I came in sight of the office Of the
colonel of gendarmes, when a queer
thought flashed across my brain. Why not
go In? The gendarme's Office was the last
place on earth where a revolutionist was
likely to call, SO the spy would give me
up as the wrong man. What l would do
with myself inside / did not stop to con-
the present moment.
/ was mounting the steps. cudgeling
nay brains for something to say, when a
door flew open on the second floor and a
moGestly dressed young woman cs me out,
hurriedly drawing on her gloves. When
we came abreast Of one another we both
paused She seemed fatniliar to me, and
there was no doubt that she knew me, too,
for she started, dropped her eyes. and
fixed them on me again in a manner which
showed plainly that she was surprised and
pained to see me there.
Pardon me-" said, taking off my hat
and bowling, but I seem to have enjoyed
the pleasure"
Yes we have met before, although we
have not been introduced" she interrupt
ed me. did my father call for your"
Il beg your pardon, but don't have the
honor Of
Don't you know my father is the colo
mel of the gendarmes?" she asked, red
dening.
I was stupefied. It now came back t.
me that I had seen her at a gathering of
revolutionists. The idea of the daughter
Of a colonel of gendarmes being friend
of the Polish cause was the ueerest thing
I had yet heard Of III our queer movement.
Was she sincere? If she was not, if she
was only spy, helping her father In his
crusade against the self-sacriicing revo-
lutionists, how was it that our people lat
her attend their meetings? Those ques-
tons were crowding my brain, but her
face told me that she was real friend. 1t
was one of the noblest faces I had ever
seen, face full of spiritual life. I knew
that the greatest knaves sometimes had
the features of saints, but this woman
had a certain something in her look
which disarmed all suspicion on my part.
II see you are surprised" she said
under her breath. Come into my room.