Omaha daily bee., 1903-05-24

teEfOF page q Jne letter. AFTER one brief
est glance she thrust the whole back into
her bosom. She breathed a long sigh. The
red flushed up again into her cheek. Her
eyes frightened. No, he had not deceived
her. All was well.
But Yvette was not by any means so
well satisfied. There was something be-
hind-something from which she, who had
planned all, was somehow shut out. Well,
1t did not matter. Tomorrow she Chat is,
others for herr would make Billy Marshall
speak And at any rate Flower-o'-the
Corn would be married as firmly as half a
dozen officials and the ministers of two
religions could do 1t.
Also she would be revenged upon Maurice
Raith, who was fool enough not to know
when he might have been well off. Love
him-nO. of course not! But all the same
had he not kissed her-of his own free
will? Well, then, he must pay. Already
she had made him payl She thought OF
him writing that letter on the deck of that
British ship. and laughed. She had not
done with Mons Maurice Raith. o. yes
she, Yvette FOy. had a long arm.
The little procession entered the great
pavilion about midway it's length. On
either side, with a clear fairway in the
center, were the massed guests
u ANN NAdAAhAS oiAh NAaA 4dASC oC -
Opposite was the door through which at
the brides coming, the marshal himself
would lead In the bridegroom
The time was come. Even the heart
Of Yvette herself beat a little faster as
the trumpets and flies rang out. The
curtain was lifted by a cord from within.
A haze of glorious light fronted them,
flashing uniforms of blue and scarlet and
gold. The massed standards of a score
of regiments, the %hangings of the state
paviIions of the great Maison Rouge, bar
riered pixies in banks and chevaux-de-frise
crossed trophies of swords, silken tassels,
the F1eur de Lys everywhere, splashed in
gold on creamy white. The trumpets sang
out yet louder. All eyes were upon them.
Smiling, Yvette led in the bride. Most of
the men judged Yvette to be the IOveliest.
Even the bridegroom with the marshal
on his right thought so.
The two parties moved forward to meet
each other in that central aisle that had
been kept. open. The marquis moved back
a step. Yvette, with her own smile, ex-
pressive of the perfection of triumph.
placed the hand of Flower-O'-the-Corn in
that of Jean Cavalier.
There was a silence within as the mar
riage party moved up the aisle, Frances,
with her bridegroom, l~eading-Yvette. upon
the arm of her husband, glancing radiant
in the rear of the train bearers.
In the interval, and just before they
reached the. altar, covered simply with it's
purple cloth, and upon 1t the great ridged
cross of gold, Patrick Wildwood, in his
Genevan gown and the book of God in his
hand. moved behind it to receive them.
Then as he lifted up his hands in the first
solemn benedictiOn of his religion the
Camisard chant came from without, weird,
ftful, ~dirgelike, president rather of death
than of marriage happiness:
Except the Lord the city keep
The watchmen watch in vain.
For heavens sake, let that whining be
stopped!' said De MOntreveI hePcely. Il
will go myself and order it,"
'Hush!' said his wife, snatching at his
sleeve, with a sudden whitening of the
face. II thought 1 heard a voice-a voice
1 knew
Suddenly, as she looked, the white wall
of the tent was slashed with a cleaning
knife from top to bottom, and through the
aperture through which the black night
looked-wild, fierce, tremendous, leaped in
the figure Of a man. His long gray hair,
matted and dank. fell beyond his shoulders.
Madness looked out of his eyes. A glairy
foam hung about his lips which kept up
nm uncouth muttering.
II have found them both" he cried, "he
who hath led astray my daughter-he who
hath made of Wv she is. You-you-
your He dvanced toward the marechal,
who stood unmoVed. while all sat paraIyzed
at the sudden fearful apparftion. II, Mar
tin Foy, will Stay you and the harlot to-
gether!'
And at the word he precipitated himself
upon De Montrevel.
But faster than the flashing Of his knife
came the cry Of Yvette.
MY husband! My husband!"
With a breaking cry she flung herself
fercely between the assassin and his vic
tim. Her breast, white and ~heaving under
its lace and silk, received the madman's
stroke fairly. The blood sprang and fell
upon the frosted maple of her dress az