Omaha daily bee., 1903-04-12

had expected other things from him. And
now-she had found him-well, she could
not picture to herself how she had found
him for the pain in her heart. Besides,
had he not crowned his ~iniquity by carry
Ing her of literally. She had been held in
his arms at the very moment when she
came to herself. And as for Yvette Foy-
how could any girl be so false, so wicked?
o. we're there no true folk at all in the
world. women or men? Except her father.
that is? She did not doubt him ever.
She elapsed her hands upon each other
as Antoine had seen her in the crystal
stone, and they we're as cold as ice. Then
there came upon characterization a wild,
unreasoning ear-the terror OF pursuit.
She seemed to be followed by a pack OF
hounds as in the gray fearful dream
, sleeps of the Changeater. She could hear
their yelping chorus. now the higher and
now the lower as they one or the other
took up the leadership.
She turned abruptly and ran on. Per-
haps 1t was well she did so. At least, the
action kept her from freezing to death.
She continued till the breath was almost
out Of her body. Before her, under the
pulsing green glow Of the Aurora the
toothed edges Of the volcanic crater stood
up. She paused, less because she was out
OF breath than because she seemed to have
some dim sort Of previous knowledge of the
place, to which. all unwittingly, her feet,
had carried her.
Once again she heard a crying as Of
wolves across the waste, the long-drawn
bowling as OF many dogs in pain, which
(once hesrd) is never forgotten. Anything
less like the giving tongue OF a pack
cannot well be imagined.
But to Frances Wildwood, who had that
night supped so full OF %terrors, this brought
no new anxiety, though the sound would
have sent every Caussenard for shelter to
the nearest house, even it 1t had been that
Of his worst enemy.
But Flower-o'-the-Corn stood there, only
conscious of the deadly insult and shame
that had been put upon her. The bitter
upland night, the frost-tingling stars, the
how of the wolf pack-these were as
nothing.
Thus she was standing growing slowly
chill and chiller, when all at once she was
startled by the sound Of uproarious mirth
about her.
A sudden flashing of lanterns, a sudden
explosion of laughter, neither very wise
nor very kindly. brought the girl to herself.
Rough hands seized her. She cried out,
and the first words she spoke we're a con-
fession OF weakness.
"Maurice-Maurice!'' she said, involun-
tarily. And then at the mere sound of her
voice she started to recall the gay bright
ness Of the Brabant corn and herself stand
ing elbow deep in 1t. with the young soldier
blushing beneath her, his hands parting
the yellow broom.
"a pretty maid, ell, Joseph? BY my
faith, yes cried one rough-looking soldier
with a great bandoliers across his breast.
Tell me that you do not believe in the
grotto of the fairies after this. Why, we
could not be better off IL we were farmers
general. The Marechal himself, with his
Madame la Marchale, will sleep no more
comfortable than we! Besides which, we
will not give the wench marching leave
quite so often"
NAY, old scrubby goat" cried another.
See, the little thing is a-cold! Do you
not understand. you are a brute to stand
there, cloaked to the gray mustache and
never offer her an inch of shelter. She
shall come. not an inch to you, but to the
kindest Of the company. Here, my pretty
one, is a good hlaf of a soldiers cloak to
be comfortable in. Aye. nancy a pretty
lass, many a dainty. hath snuggled dow
there, and liked very we'll that same old
B%radenburg redingote! Come. my pretty!
So!""
"a tell you, no. cried another, holding
up his lantern to -Corn's
pretty frightened face flor now she had
fallen among the wolves. indeed). Neither
one of you has the least claim. Zen let
the maid choose for herself. l outrank
you both, for the matter of that, for / carry
the colors! You have nothing but great
old gray mustaches, an odor of rum and
much talk Of what you have done in your
youth.
LAS IL that had any weight with a young
thing fit to be the granddaughter of any OF
you! For shame to fright a child so with
your rough talk Come hither to me, my
dear. and you and l will talk apart. ]
promise you none Of them shall harm you.
And you shall have no troublesome ques-
tions to answer, either-such as How came
you at night out upon the wild Causes
near a Camisard haunt Of rebels and trait
ors? 1 can save you from all that. Why
else should l be trusted with the banner
by my oficer but that 1t should cover a
bosom as innocent as thine"
stand out OF the way, Victor Cayet, -
cried still another abruptly. shouldering
the speaker, his lantern and his folded
banner out Of the way. Il tell you here
comes la Marechalo herselfi And it is as
much as our heads are worth to have any
rough TESTING in her presence
"Tutl As to that she is but the Mare
chale Of the campaign, l warrant you-a
Camisard marechale think you our noble
de Montrevel would saddle HIMSELF"
Hush, lads, here she comes!"
+.
>"Wretches. assassins, l will have all Of
you hanged by the provost marshal" cried