Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1903-03-07

and seemed to forget all else in his
profound contemplation.
Villon looked at him for a moment
in silence and then went cut of the
room and descended the steps, opened
the little door, and passed into the
garden. The summer IA was dying
in a splendid riot Of color among the
rose trees. Its last rays, falling on the
face of the god Pan, Illuminated his
fantastic features and seemed to lend
them the life Of an ironic leer. The
warm air was rich with the blended
odors of q thousand blossoms, and
from the palace, faint and far off,
came the sound Of joyous voices. 1t
was almost the momen when the rose
garden was to be thrown open TO the
royal guests.
Villon pulled q rose from a bush by
his q n and gaZed into it's crimson
heart as If he sought 20 read there the
secret which all flowers hold but which
no flower has ever yet betrayed to the
longing eyes OF a poet. He leaned
against the statue OF Par and unused
pensively.
THE petals of my reign are falling
from me full of life, full of color to
h M Shall / win this wonderful
woman? Am l mad to hope It? If l
lose, 1t Is a short shrift and a long
rope at the end of a dazzling dream"
He shivered as he thought and cast
the rose he held away from him.
How cold the June air seems, and
these roses smell of graves" He
paused a little till his hopes took heart
again. But if l win, how will It be,
/ wonder, to marry my hearts desire,
TO grow old sedately, to live again with
the children on my knee, a little Fran
coils here more honest than his father,
a little Katherine there less comedy
than her mothcr!"
He flung out his hands as if he were
Diminishing the phantoms of his fancy.
Run away, my dear dream children
to your playground Of shadows where
you belong, for your father may be
hanged tomorrow, and he fights for
love and life tonight"
Villon's reflections were huttcred by
a sudden blare Of music, and a gaudy
fellow in n pursuivant's coat made his
appearance on the top Of the terrace
and ratified blast after blast from his
brazen trumpet. In obedience to the
long-looked-for signal, a many-colored
crowd Of jewellers gushcd from the
palace and flowed like q glowing wave
Of merry-making down the steps and
into the walks and alleys OF the rose
garden. All the strange figures hat
a freakish fancy could suggest leaped
and danced and shouted in a rapture
Of mirth-satyrs n f~ollies, clowns
and devils wheeled idly by, waving
torches, clashing cymbals, or scream
Ing at the top Of their voices, while Sc
dater spirits, masked and mufIled in
nantes of somber hue, moved through
the tumultuous throng and found their
abated pleasure in mystification and
intrigues.
Villon had a mask in his glrdle. He
put 1t on and pushing into the press al
lowed himself to drift hither and thith-
er with the eddying currents Of pleas
ure. His fantastic imagination took
fire from the strang shapes and sounds
about him. The sense of being in Il
dream, which had never deserted him
from the first moment of his awakened
consciousness in the rose garden, chung
closely about him on this night, and
the jocund figures around him fitted
by as unreal as the phantoms Of a
noontide sleep.
Suddenly his attention was arrested
by the SOUND Of a voice that seemed
familiar to him. A man habited like Il
pilgrim from the Holy Land, in long
and gabardine of gray, and with
the pilgrims coCkleShell on his Shout
der, had met another masker, habited
like himself. The pair were exChang-
ing salutations, in a speech that the
speakers might well to be I'M
known to any person in the royal gar
den. The speech, however, jingled very
Familiarity on Villon's ear, for the man
was talking In the amazing jaCgon
which the worshipful company Of
cOCkleshells had devised for the better
furtheranCe of their thievish purposes,
and 1t appealed to Villon as Intimately
as a song that Is learned in childhood.
The first pilgrim questioned the other.
What do you carry in your scrip"
And the second answered:
Il carry Il Cockleshell."
The first pilgrim questioned again:
What do you carry in your hand?"
And the second responded:
"A foot OF steel"
Yet again the first speaker queried:
VIII you drink the kings health?"
And the answer came deCisively:
I'm n flagon OF Burgundy"
Whereat the two pilgrims saluted
and parted and went their several ways
and were swallowed up in the motley
masquerade.
vlllon's curiosity was piqued to the
quick.
How in heavens NAME" he asked
himself, does 1t come to pass that
people speaking the thieves lingo OF
the Court Of Miracles find themselves
at a feast in the rose garden Of King
?"
he set HllllStll " lIy anu track uOWU
one or the other Of the mysterious pill
grims, but neither of them was to be
found. His wandcrings brought him
back to the fair space at the foot OF
the terrace protected by the image OF
the god Pan. The place was deserted;
the jewellers had drifted elsewhere. a
lutte lay on the marble seat. Villon
himself and taking W the in
5trument was touching 1t carelessly,
GENTLY.