The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-03-24
The Garden Of Lies
BY Justus Miles Forman
.' |<' y Company
By Justus Miles Forman
Copyright 1902 by Frederick A. stokes Company.

| heaven Of sweet odors Isn't our garden
beautiful. mon prince? Isn't it perfect?
She threw out her arms to the golden sun
shine and her eyes closed.
It's a perfect world, Carlo milo! It's
all sunshine and love and sweet Odors!
And the shadows are past and gone. Oh
my prince, it's good to be alive!"
She moved over to the little gravel
path that ran under the wall, and, Mallory
| followed her. She sang under her breath
as she walked, a little old song, very
sweet and low. 1t was:
| Yet this Inconsistency is such
| AS thou too shalt adore, :. D..
81. Her face was flushed and softly smiling,
rosy with happiness, and her blue eyes
were half closed.
Tell me, Karl said she after time.
how is it that you speak such perfect
| English? I've known many Europeans
who spoke it well. even idioma tically, but
there's always little difference, a little
| quality one can't describe, that makes it
foreign. You'd know it wasn't their ma
tive tongue. You speak it as if you had
| been born to it,"
''Oh, us for that" said Mallory, 1--WE
always spoken English. I was taught it
from the cradle. You see, my mother
was part English. Faith I can speak it
! with an Irish brogue. if You like. Oh
my English is natural to me as yours
and for once he added inwardly, that
no lie.-You don't know half my accom-
plishments,' he went on aloud. II can
do no end Of things that would surprise
you. really they would. I used to write
for the Observation-Disclosures I came to the
throne, you know-money was at times a
hit scarce in those days. All, beautiful
things 1 wrote!'
Poetry" cried the Princess Eleano,
eagerly.
mo. not poetry. heaven forbid'
| 'Ah. but you can. I KNOW she insist
ed. II know you can. Carlo mio--wil
YOU write me poem? Just the littlest
bit Of one! There was man: oh ages
ago, who wrote poems to me. They were
so silly! Please. will you write. me E
poem. Carlo, if I'll be very. very good?-
All. about me, you know! See what a vail
| little cat l ami
Il will not" said Mallory with decision
II will put on a little red jacket and :
collar with a chain and be dragged abou
the streets after a hand-organ- if tina
would amuse you, or I'll climb trees o
stand on my head but I'll write no poem
for anybody. There are depths to which
I haven't yet sunll--though upon my wore
| hadn't suspected Them
The princess sighed wistfully.
Il should have liked a poem sh
grieved, ''stil, if you won't do a littl
thing like that for me I suppose I shal
have to go without it."
She turned to him with soft laugh o
, infinite content. Of Joy and happiness
She put up her two hands clasped upo
his breast, leaning upon him, smiling int
his eyes.
"Ah, you shan't be teased!" she cried
!, Men hate poetry, don't they? Great
big, strong fighting men like you. 70
f sha'nt be leased. my prince, I'm going t
5 be nice to you, very nice
} They We're standing under the littl
W n he m
suddenly, from above, the sound of voices
quick, hOarse explanations, and move
I ments as of a struggle. Then all at once
!, a man burst through the white curtain:
l and poised an instant one leg over tn
f window ledge. and sprang to the groun
' before them half falling as he leaped. S
that he sprawled upon the black earth o
i hands and knees. -: y: 90 =.
He was on his feet. and facing henas i
s. a. moment He was; a rather small NAL
u. under medium height. swarthy of CON
e. pleXion, and with very black hair. H
,. had large and dark eyes, and a fierce lit
o moustache that turned UP sharply at tt
v ends.
! The mans breast heaved with
o stormy brea thing that checked his ute
V ance. His. face was flushed, and h
: hands shook with rage. He SCENE
scarcely to look at the Princess F;lean
n but fixed his eyes upon young Denis Ma
v iOly Ill d Sldlo 81 age IhdI SAlC - iol
: man instinctively drew hack a pac
l. tlrusting the girl behind him, SO that h
II body sheltered her. o.,
IS "Well?',, said he in a puzzled ton
r "well?> what is it," Then, all in a f1as
u the truth burst upon him.
o. "You-you blackguaroi!'' cried the m:
re thickly. you dog!-you thief" He spo
IS III French and his rage was SO great tn
20 his tongue would only with difficulty for
k, the sounds. 1t was as if he wrench
Il each word from his breast with visit
1T effort.
at ''You-you wolf in the fold!' he erie
0: you shall pay for-this. curse you, wi
0! your-life!" He waved his arm helpless
IS and leaned back against the stone wa
re painting.
a The Princess Eleanor made a totteri