The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1903-07-31
The Fisher.
NELLIE X. BLISSETT


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A SPLASH of yellow light fell from
~ the doorway of the cafe of S.
Maurin into the still, blue darkness of
he little quay, where a couple of flick
.ring lamps only served to make the
gloom more profound. The moon had
lot risen, and the pale radiance of the
stars showed. the long, slow swell of
IN oily sea. Against the wall of the
quay lay a tiny sailing yacht. Further
out, midway between the horns of the
aarbor, fishing-boat with widespread
sails that seemed hardly to catch the
:aint evening air drifted like shadow
through the night.
In the cafe half dozen men, fishers
Of this little port, iounged idly over
heir glasses. Old Antoine, the inn
keeper, drowsed as usual in his corner
:hair.. Jean Modesto, his grandson, sat
with torn net across his knee and his
black head bent. The rest slipped their
coarse wine, and talked to each other
spasmodically of the weather or the
prospects of a good catch.
Suddenly Jean Modesto, looking up
from the tear in the net, made with
his free hand the sign Of the Cross. The
others looked at him with curious, half
frightened eyes.----He- was staring
through the open doorway at the sea.
There was an instant of heavy silence.
The glasses ceased to clink, and only
old Antoine snored softly in ais cor
ner. 0ao
Jean Modestes eyes fell again to his
let
"The Fisher," he said, in a low tone
of explanation.
Everyone, except the sleeping inn
keeper, turned at once to the door. Be
tween the horns of the bay the one
wide sail was drifting lazily nearer,
Again there was silence in the cafe, an
odd, unwholesome stiffness, heavy with
ill-omen and expectation of evil to
come.
Presently big Jules Boptemps took a
draught of his wine and set the glass
down noisily on the table at which he
sat.
For my part" he said, IT don't be-
lieve in this Fisher-there! Every sail
you see near S. Maurin. it's the same
thing with you all-the Fisher I'm a
stranger-I-thank the good God there's
no Fisher in this port Of Nice-no!
Now, will any of you tell me, my friends,
who this Fisher of yours is. and what he
seeks?"
The question was addressed generally
to the whole company present. but no
~ hoy oil 1r,ly o<7
at Jean Modesto as he bent over his
net
"Who he is" he spoke. meditative-
". "Ah, for that-no one can tell you.
What he seeks-that's another matter.
They do say"
He broke off, and glanced again
through the open. door. The black sail
was drifting very slowly towards the
land.
well. what do they say?" Bontemps
asked, impatiently. .:
The young man turned again to his
net.
"They say" he answered, in the same
low, unwilling tone, that he fishes fol-
the souls of men,
Bontemps stared for a second :. Then
he flung back his rongh black head with
q great laugh. a
The souls OF men! All. my faith
that's good! Are you Christians. then
in this harbor Of s. Maurin?" =
r's..As good as any in the port of Nice, >
Jean Modesto replied, with touch OF
heat - zs
Bontemps laughed again. - =
mo offense. my friend. But come. its
absurd, you know. It's moonshine-
that's what 1t Is This Fisher Of
yours-" -sser-f -E s--e-s
Jean Modesto cut through his speect
and lifted q finger from his net to point
through the door. =
There" he said, els the Fisher
Laugh-H you please. Z -5.ss'7's :
Bontempsr was Ssilent The ,shadovJ
sail had drifted very near. Again still
ness fellsupon the little group. brokeI
Only by the old mans heavy breathing.
Taught you pleased" Jean Modest.
said again None Of us here viii laugh
with you What IL we cannot tell yot
who the Fisher n? We know his Wori
well enough. hid he not follow m,
brothers boat. the Marie Blanche. tn,