Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1902-12-20
p I.
IN THE F1RcoNE TAVERN.

cone tavern the warm June air seemed
to have lost all it's delicacy, like q de-
graded angel. II was sodden through
and through, as with the lees or wine;
1t was stained and shamed with the
smells of hams and cheeses; 1t was
thick and heavy as If with the breaths
of all the rogueS and all the vaga-
bonds hat had haunted the hosiery
from it's evil dawn. Such gutterinS
lights and glimmering flames as III
the place-for there was a small hre
on the wide hearth in spite of the line
weather-peopled the gloom with ram
tastic quivering shadows as or lean
fingers hat unfolded themselves 10
fitch, or clenched themselves to STAB
in the back. But its patrons seemed 10
like the place well enough In spite or
It's miasma, and Master Robi Turgis,
the fat landlord, drowsy with his w
wine and dripping from the heat, sur
veyed them Complacently, and wal
lowed as 1t were in the rattle and cllnk
of mug and can, the full-throate
laughter and the shrill chatter, crisply
emphasized by oaths, which assured
him of the Fircone's popularity with
It's intimates. Master Robins intelli-
gence was limited; his wit was sim
pie; the processes of his mind moved
easily along the lines of least resist
ance. The Burgundians might be
hammering with mailed fists at the
walls Of Paris; the fire-new crown or
Louis the Eleventh might be falling
from the royal forehead; it mattered
not a jot to dishonest Robin so long
as the Fircone brimme1 with COM
pany.
There was enough company In the
room on this evening to content even
his wish. 1t was not the kin of COM
ronu TINT n Nviga man IpnIlldH desire To
keep, but it delighted the innkeeper,
for 1t drank deeply and spent freely,
and in Robins view 1t was of no more
concern to him how the money that
changed hands was come by than ii
was how the profound rotations might
affect the brains and stomachs OF his
clients. If any officer of the law had
questioned him as to his association
with q certain mysterious Brotherhood
of the Cockleshells whose Court Of
Miracles and the fear of citizens with
strong boxes, he would have shrugged
his fat shoulders and shaken his round
head and disowned all knowledge of
any such unlawful corporation. Yet
his face wrinkled with smiles as his
glance rested amiably upon the bodily
presences of certain illustrious mem
bers Of the brotherhood, wild men In
withered frippery, wine-stained to the
very bones.
They were five In number, and four
Of them were huddled round a table
in the cosiest corner of the room, the
cor er that was sheltered from the
heat of the fire by the high-backe ed
settle, the corner that was nearest to
tie main door IL one desired-as one
often did-to slip out in a hurry, and
to the red-curtained windows, If one
desired-as n seldom did-a mouth
full Of fresh air. Robin Turgis knew
them all, admired them all, feared
them all, and yet he held head against
them because his Beaune wine was SO
adorable, and because he could keep
his own counsel. Slender Rene de
M%ontigny, in a jerkin of rubbed and
faded purple velvet, with his malign,
Italianate face and his delicate Italian
ate grace; rotund Guy Tabarie, BLUM,
red and bald; Casin Cholet, tall and
bird-liKe, with the figure Of n stork
and the features of a bird OF prey;
Jehan lie Loup, who looked as Vulpine
as his nickname; these Robin Turgis
eyed and c~atalogued with n Kind OF
pride. 1t was u fearsome privilege for
the Fircone TO boast such patronage.
On the settle, with his ace to the fire,
Colin de Cayeulx sprawled in a drunk
EN- sleep, forgetting and forgotten, q
harmless looking, good-natured look
Ing knave who was neither harmless
nor good-natured.
For every man Of the gang there was
q woman, and there was a woman over,
who was easily the central star Of the
Haunting galaxy. The shabby bravery
of the men was matched by the shabby
bravery of five out of the six women.
Gaudy, painted, a1sertive strumpets
with young, fair, shameless faces
worthy Jills Of the ill-favoured Jacks
who cuddled them-Jehanneton, the
fair helm-maker; Denisa, Blanche, lisa =
beau, and G~uillemette, h landlords
daughter, who consortC ! gaily enough
with these brightly-plumaged birds OF
a roGue's paradise. But the sixth
woman was a bird of quite another
feather.
Over all the clatter this woman's
voice rose suddenly as clear as the
call Of a thrush, and the hot space
seemed to cool and the hot air to clean
as she sang. She who sang was a girl
OF five and twenty, whom 1t had
pleased TO Clothe her ripe womanhood
In a boys habit, that claSped her fine
body as close as a second skin, and
and she might have passed for a man
no otherwhere than in a madhouse.
She looked very charming in the
stained and faded daintiness of her
male attire. She wore a green velvet
doublet and green wooleIt hose, with
a scarlet girdle and pouch about her
waist, and q scarlet feather stuck de-
family in her green cap, beneath which
her long fair hair tumbled in liberal
confusion about her shoulders. She
sat on the edge of a table swinging one
shapely leg loose and strained upon its
fellow while she nursed her lutte as
If 1T had been a baby, and caroled as
IL there were no other work in the
world to do han to sing. The men
and women who sat and sprawled
around the table kept quiet, listening
to her and staring at her; sleepy Colin
pricked his ears: Robin Turgis was
alert to hear, for he knew hat it was
worth while to listen when Huguette
du Hamel chose to sing. Robin Turgis
knew all about her. Her gentle blood
was wild blood, and in spite of her
birth and her name she had drifted or
the stream of strange pleasure to be
the idol OF the Fircone's shrine. Her
voice was sweet and he tun had a
tender, appealing grace, with a little
minor wall in ii that brough' tears in
to the singers eyes and she mouthed
the words as il she found them sweet
as honey And his is what she sang:
Daughters Of pleasure, one and all,
or form and feature delicate,
OF bodies slim, and bosoms small,
With feet and fingers white n straight,
Your eyes are bright, your grace is great
To hold your lovers hearts in thrall;
Use your red lips before too late,
Love ere love fies beyond recall"
Her voice dropped and her fingers
finkled oyer the strings. Rene de