Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1903-11-05

seoo. Evidently b vas not pleased ami
1elt rebellious, but It was hard for him
70 resist Father Beret whom he loved.
a. did every soul In the post. The
peaests voice was sweet and gentle.
yet positive to degree. Rene did not
say q word.
"Promise me that you will not taste
liquor this night" Father Beret went
ON, grasping the young mans arm
firmly. Promise me. my son: promise
me-"
Still Rene was silent. The men did
not look at each other, but gazed away
across the country beyond the Wabash
to where glory from the western sun
famed on the upper rim of great
cloud fragment creeping along the hori-
ION.
"Eh bien, must CO." said Rene pres
emily, getting to his feet nimbly and
evading Father Beret's hand. which
would have held him.
mot to the river house. my son?'
said the priest appealingly.
mo, not there. have another letter;
one for M'sieu' Roussillon. 1t came by
the boat too. go to give it to Nine.
Roussillon."
Rene de Ronville was a dark. weather
stained young fellow. neither tall nor
short. wearing buckskin moccasins.
trousers and tunic. His eyes We're dark
brown, keen, quick moving. set we'll
under heavy brows. \ razor had prob
ably never touched his face. and his
thin. curly beard crinkled over his
strongly turned cheeks and chin. while
his mustaches sprang out quite fiercely
above his full Tipped. almost sensual
mouth. He looked wiry and active. a
man not to be lightly reckoned with in
trial of bodily strength and will
power.
Father Beret's face and voice chang
ed on the instant. He laughed dryly
and said. with sly CLEAN in his eyes:
"You could spend the evening pleas
antly with Nine. Roussil.on and Jean.
Jean, you know, is a very amusing fell
low"
Rene brought forth the letter of
which he had spoken and held it up be-
fore Father Beret's face.
''Maybe you think haven't any let
ter for M'sieu' Roussillon." he blurted.
land maybe you are quite certain that
am not going to the house to take the
letter."
M. Roussillon is absent, you know"
Father Beret suggested. "But cherry
pies are just as good while he's gone
as when he's at home, and happen to
know that there are some particularly
delicious ones in the pantry of Nine.
Roussillon. Mile. Alice gave me
juicy sample, but then I dare say you
do not care to have your pie served by
her hand. 1t would interfere with
your appetite. Eth. my SOM"
Rene turned short about wagging
his head and laughing, and so with his
back to the priest he strobe away along
the wet path leading to the Roussillon
place.
Father Beret gazed after him. his
face relaxing to serious expression
In which trace Of sadness and gloor,
spread like an elusive twilight. He
took out his letter, but did not glance
at it, simply holding 1t tightly gripped
in his sinewy right hand. Then his
old eyes stared vacantly. as eyes do
when their sight is cast back many,
many years into the past. The mis-
sive was from beyond the sea-he
knew the handwriting-a watt of the
flowers of Avignon seemed to rise out
Of it, as if by the pressure of his
grasp.
A stoop shouldered, burly man went
by, leading a pair Of goats. kid fol-
lowing. He was making haste excited
~, keeping the goats at lively trot.
"Bon jour, Pere Beret." he flung
out breezily. and walked rapidly on.
"Ah, all; his mind is busy with the
newly arrived CARGO" thought the old
priest. returning the salutation. His
throat aches for liquor-the poor man.
Then he read again the letters super
scription and made faltering move as
II to break the SEAL His hands trem-
bled violently. his face looked gray
and drawn.
"Come on, you brutes,'' cried the re-
cedfng man, jerking the thongs of skin
by which he led the goats.
Father Beret rose and turned into
his damp little hut, where the light
was dim on the crucifix hanging op.
posite the door against the clay
daubed wall. It was bare, unsightly,
,clammy room. A rude bed on one side,
a shelf for table and two or three
wooden stools constituting the furni-
ture, while the uneven puncheons of
the floor wabbled and clattered under
the priests feet.
It had been many years since letter
from home had come to Father Beret.
The last before the one now in hand
had made him i'll of nostalgia, fairly
shaking his iron determination never
to quit for a moment his life work as q
missionary. Ever since that day he
had found it harder to meet the many
and stern demands of a most difficult
and exacting duty. Now the mere
touch of the paper in his hand gave
him sense Of returning weakness
dissatisfaction and longing. The home