Omaha daily bee., 1903-03-15

and humble dignity that became him no
little.
1t CHANGED tina Yvette Foy arrived in
the church just in time to intercept the
glance and to watch the blood spring hot
and responsive to the young soldiers
cheek. '..
There was another who had observed the
byplay-a dark-skinnel youth in a wide
blue blouse who stood near a pillar at the
door. To him Yvette Foy turned with a
bitter smile upon her lips. But he did not
even observe her. His eyes were else
where, even upon the fair face of Frances
Wildwood, now uplifted, as like a flower
turns to the sun, when her father began
to speak.
And Yvette smiled a tolerant smile as
she looked.
"Was II possible" she thought, that she
should have feared to take count and
reckoning with such a babe? Then with her
deep fold of lace drawn closely about her
shapely head and recrossed over her bosom,
she turned her head and neck this way and
that, thinking no more of the sonorous
words of the preacher than she would OF
the roar of the wind in the limestone
caves of Mont Ventour. or the surge OF
a breaking sea upon a distant shore.
About her head she had wound a thin
veil Of finest lace, which contained and
conditioned, though 1t did not conceal her
~haughtily splendid hair. She knew that her
forehead was bright and broad beneath It,
her Fps were marvelously red. There
was no one like her in all the hills OF
! Cevenne from Mende to Beziers. o, yes
| the ed-and-white stranger girl she had
een-she knew this Frances Wildwood.
She would go and wait for her in the
market place. The damask rose is not
afraid of the scentless immortelle,
So she rose unceremoniously in the midst
of the sermon, laid her stool against a
pillar, and with the air and carriage OF a
queen, passed serenely out into the hot
sudden caressing OF the sunlight, venting
a great sigh Of relief as the fresh warmth
of the forenoon. breathed upon her face.
The true spirit Of Yvette Foy returned
to her as soon as she had left the dark
morning heaviness OF the little church be-
hind her. Glooms and fervors OF the
spiritual sort she had none about her. and,
indeed. she recognized such in others only
as useful factors in the game she loved to
play With all her bright cleverness, with
her knowledge of men, books and women
in spite of the glimpses she had had OF an
other life, the base Of her nature was essen
TALLY a desire for the physical Well-pelhs
OF an animal. Herein lay the difference
between the two girls. Flower-o'-the-Corn
loved everything in nature. 1t was all tair
and sweet to her-ths green, waving FODDER
grass with the wind passing over II IN
swirls and waves OF color changeful as the
sheen OF shot silk-the keen yerditer OF
the bitter artemisia, the barbaric brill-ance
Of pomegranate blossom ~splashed scarlet
against a turquoise sky. These seemed
part Of herself. They made her life vivid.
That she lived on plain camp fare-that
she had done so all her days and never
expected to do otherwise, detracted nothing
from the pleasure she felt in being with
her father, in making him happy, ana In
gladdening with ready graciousness all
whose lives came across hers. Every blown
blade OF grass on the meadow leas, every
head Of sorrel sowing its rlain song russell
seeds, every ascendant gossamer with Its
little ai.-born traveller, was part OF the
eternal gladness OF life to FloWer-o'-the"
Corn. These things we're as parts OF her
deepest religion. and she ~prattled OF them
gaily TO her father, who did not even shake
his head.
| Now. though Yvette. the daughter Of