Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1907-09-26
CHAPTER Xxx.

fore the little palace built for Jenne
du Barry, but stamped with the i'm
....ortal charm of Marie Antci--ette. 1t
was SO many years since he nAd been
there that he had forgotten the sim
pie elegance of its pale pilastered
facade, against which four pomegra-
y nate trees made dark spots of YER
dure, with an occasional late scarlet
flower Cabmen hung about the gate
way, children played in the court and
tourists waited at the door for their
turn to enter. She would not be here,
he said to himself, and passed onward
to the park.
He avoided-the road to the Hameau
and the more frequented routes. II
he found her at all, it would be in
some secluded spot, where the tourist
would be little likely to venture. From
the terrace of the villa he surveyed
the French garden. with its lines of
purple, scarlet and orange flowers
making arabesque designs besween
ed by Louis XIV. With the
exception of some children
sailing a boat on the basin in the
tlcentre there was no one there. Down
4 by the Octagon Pavilion a girl in
Il. white was sketching; he descended
towards her, but it was not she whom
he sought. He went on through laby-
II ruth of hedges, where princesses
and court ladies had loved to wander
In the cool of the apres-dinee and now
the shy birds were startled by a foot
fall, taking fight with sharp whir
of wings; but all was solitude and
silence. The rose-red line of the
Grand Trianon, sl1irted about by gar
dens, brilliant with the splendid hues
Of the end of summer, showed itself
on his left; but he turned from it
and sought the deeper recesses Of
the park A majestic mournfulness
spread about him as he went farther
On. Pines shot UP their bronze-color-
ed shafts with the straightness Of
palms. Ancient pointed frs droopei
with melancholy sweep, dragging
their lower branches on the ivy-tang-
led ground. jumpers soft as mimosas
and spreading like cedars were as red
with berries as pomegranates in
flower. Dark walls of clipped yew led
to stone basins where the water was
heavy with dead leaves and the bronz
A water-babtes seemed to have been
II arrested forever, in mid-play by It'd
ings of calamity. Pale buildings show
ed here and there their crumbling
'oofs through clusters of lilac or be-
|eath following elms. Here was a
sdstic village, there a temple of love,
ssewhere a sculptured pavilion, AMI
sysrywhere the ghost of a woman
whose story is the most moving IF
earthly dramas since that Of the Son
of Man.
Wiltshire wandered on. seeing no
ono hnt on occociona1 vuprlxnnon g
I, party Of tourists.
y Never mind" hi said to himself.
IF don't find her today, l shall
come every day till do"
He strayed aimlessly, knowing tn 1T
any deliberate search would be use
less-and that only some happy
chance would bring them together.
There were many probabilities that,
in the semi-obscurity of shaded allees
and winding paths they would pass
each other by There were many
more that she had not come at all.
Still he would keep on, he said, I'M
TIL the twilight told him that further
staying would be fruitless. He would
rather meet her in some such spot
as this than in the commonplace at
mosphere of drawing room.
himself in by-way dim with the en-
chanting gloom of laurel privet and
box. The sunlight that filtered
through the high trees above reached
here only in faint fecks of gold on
I the sombre foliage. The pathway
climbed a little knoll and seemed
ITO lead into some sacred grove. A
fmurmur of falling water caught his
ear and he followed it's music seek
ing the source. There were no birds
I nor fiowers-only hush, a stiffness
a solemnity, as if sound would be pro-
fanation, since the songs and laugh
ter of the proud men and light-hea-t-
ed women, who had frequented hera,
had been frozen on the lips by the
horror of the coming tragedy.
1t was with surprise that Wiltshire
emerged suddenly into sunny grass
plot, with a view of green meadows
and meandering stream. Close be-
side him, on the brow of little cliff.
perched small paTilion-an epitome
of that beauty, simple, stately and
sure of itself. to which the eighteenth
century worked up, through all the
splendors of color and all the graces
OF form. The autumn sunlight, bath
Ing the cream-colored walls, showed
glimpses of the white and gold deco.
ration within-the Tyre, the harp. the
Eute, and whatever else is suggestive
OF lightness, gladness and song. Wilt
shire stood still. He was not an i'm.
aginative man-and yet he could al
most persuade himself that he heard
the tinkle Of the spinet giving out
some melody of Glucks-he could al
most fancy that he caught sight,
through the high windows of the
\ Queens white fchu or Madame Eliza
n beth's Dercale
He was SO lost in the memories Of
the spot that for minute he nearly
forgot the object of his quest. 1t was
only when he began to look about him
that he became aware of the presence
Of girl in black. She stood in the
centre of an arched rustic bridge.
which beyond the pavilion, spenned
the tiny, artificial chasu beneath. Be
4 hind her a towering mass of rocks
2 formed a sort of grotto, from whence