Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1907-12-20
CHAPTER IY.


At the back of abe Hotel des Postes
Is a little garden where the flower beds
are islanded in a harsh lake of broken
schist, and where in summer time the
gray stone walls which bound the garden
on three sides beat back the heat of the
sun upon the air like the reverberators
of furnace. Unobservant visitors won
der to find themselves hotter here in shade
than they are in sunshine elsewhere in
the same village,
Athanos Zeno sat here pretty often,
leaning back in a springy chair of painted
strip iron, with his lustrous black eyes
half closed. delightfully."- idle man to
look at was AthanOs Zeno, and on the
outside nearly always distracted from
the world, though to a keen observer
there was visible when people talked in
his neighborhood that curious listening,
Observant poise Of the head which Austin
Farley had noticed in him. He had moth
ing to conceal, and but little to observe,
just now. DobrOski, Fraser and O'ROurke
were talking together in front Of the
Cheval Blanc, and now and again a stray
village girl came down to the village
pump for water, but there was nobody
else in sight.
Mrs. Farley walked into the garden
with the boys hand in one Of hers, and
seating herself at some distance from
the Levantine, busted herself over a bit
Of lace work.
At an open window overlooking the gar
den sat Austin, with rumpled hair and
disOrdered aspect, occasionally scratching
his head with the feathered stump of a
very short quill pen. Lucy, who had so
arranged her seat as to command a view
Of him at will, observed him. smilingly
and tenderly for awhile, but he began to
rumple his hair so wildly at length that
she spoke to him.
"Cant you work to-day, dear2"
''It's tingling all over me-" he an
swered, with an irritated flourish Of the
hands. Actually and absolutely ting
ling"
''You do nothing In that mood" she
said, smiling. Leave it for little while.
Come down into the garden"
II think l WILL" he answered; and
she watched him whilst he swept away
from his table disorderly double hand
full of papers, and snatehing straw hat
from hook on the wall, stuck it fretful-
" at the bac kof his head and left the
room.
Just at that moment the carriage driV-
en- by Maskelyne pulled up In front Of the
ChevAl Blanc. and the good wife cried, In
a hurried whisper, Austin, here are the
people from Houfoy. And you in your
clippers! Go away and make yourself
presentable."
Austin arose with something Of an air
Of humorous discomfort, and sauntered
into thu hnAal In 30
greet Maskelyne and DObrOski at the door,
where the young American introduced
Miss Butler with a solemn little phrase
or tive about the novelist's fame, which
caused him to blush like a schoOlboy.
angela looked upon him with eyes of ven
eratlon-the first live author she had be-
held. She was at the age when venera-
ton IL at its freshest, and this encounter
was an unfeigned and unique delight to
her.
By and by they were all seated in the
garden together, and 0'Rourks and Fra
ser came IN, and each took q chair in the
hot shade Of the trained lines. Angela,
Farley and Maskelyne were just begin
ning to feel at home together, and were
gliding into talk. O'ROurke sat near and
kept silence, though 1t was q common
hhDlt OF MS Co LeAd conversation. he was
esteemed a good talker, but his power az
a listener was rarer and more remarkable.
As q listener he was full Of subtleties.
He responded silently to the slightest
shade of thought, and the talker always
felt certain Of sympathy with him.
He saw but little Of feminine society,
and knew but little Of women's manners
OF their interior ways. He watched with
a closer interest than he could altogether
have accounted for at the moment for any
sign of rapport between Maskelyne and
Angela, and saw none whatever on either
side. Dobroski sat by, silent, and many
glances Of affection and understanding
passed between her and Maskelyne.
Engaged, perhaps" said O'Rourke to
himself. "Sure of each other" A mo-
ment later, with little touch of passing
anger at himself, what has it to do with
me?''
A voice spoke from the road below the
garden asking for Monsieur Dobroski. The
village postman, politely raising his Off