The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1909-12-25

TIL paper edited on these fines flour.
ished. Some loved, others hated it.
No one respected it, but everybody
read 1t. Aladjev had reached his goal
His financial resources grew daily, his
income became magnificent
But the years of such feverish activ-
| ity left their traces. Aladjev grew
old and infirm. Against his will there
arose in the bottom of his soul
old longforgotten, forcibly-suppressed
longings. They brought in their train
the painful consciousness of a duality,
an unconquerable self-detestation.
His youngest daughter-the only
one of his children whom he loved
had left him after she had told him
that she was ashamed of her father
She became lost among the hundreds
of others pure of heart, unselfish of
purpose and deep of feeling like her.
self.
| Over his desk hung her picture.
Her eyes looked reproachfully down
on him. Right under her beseeching
eyes, nay, in defiance of them. he
And yet Aladjev felt that there was
more holy truth In one of her mis-
takes than in all his cold calculations.
Insomnia tortured him; in his sleep
less nights he could not drive away
the all-pervading dread of death.
The stiffness of the night spoke to
him In mystic dreams. The figure of
his sorrowing daughter gave battle to
his agony in loving kindness.
He feared solitude. Late at night,
when he did his work. all the deep
shadows seemed to become alive.
His dreams were heavy. He stood
before the judgment seat and could
not justify himself. Unknown shades,
covered with blood. abject in their
despair, passed before him accusingly
and their number did not end. 81
know them not" he said Il did not
hate them; IL l have harmed them
it had to be, because it was to my
advantage" Their number increased
continually, they grew up like wall
between him and the Judge, they
reached out after him, showed him
their wounds-and, in nameless dread.
he crawled out of his bed, shaking in
every joint.
The first report of the massacres
reached the editorial rooms. His CO.
workers talked subdued. In whispers.
Aladjev said nothing. He wrote
an editorial in his usual manner. He
said a few words of regret and
then he tried to show how ,unavoid-
able, how inevitable, how almost
necessary were these events. He
made use of knavish trick The
massacres were not, he argued, the
result of deliberate Indictment; no, on
the contrary, the massacres proved
how justified had been the cam
paign of Indictment. He was pleased
by the thought that he did not In
cite the riots.
He ate his dinner with relish and
was in good humor. He went to
the theater to see French farce,
fingered at supper, and came home
late, a little tired, but pleasantly agi-
tated. On his dressingn-table was the
oblong envelope; this time 1t had
wide black border.
so you are mourning for the VIC
Tins OF the massacre!" he exclaimed,
sneeringly. He placed the letter with
out opening 1t under his pillow, and
Immediately fell asleep.
He awoke suddenly. He did not
know what had happened. Icy dread
was strangling him by the throat.
The black border of the letter stood
in front of him and gripped his chest
A terrible pain had made him
insensible. Soon he began to compre-
bend. Yes, that was it Why had
he put the letter under his pillow? 1t
was the black border which had ter
rorized him. Suddenly he saw clearly.
Those hateful letters were the dread
full shadows which tortured him. If
he could but get rid of them all would
be well, the shadows would disappear,
and his soul would find peace. He
arose from his bed and, without put
ting on any garment. he tiptoed into
his working room. The full moon
flooded the room with pale light. He
opened the drawer. There were the
letters. There were many, many Of
them. He took them out one by one,
read each. and threw It away. But the
more he threw away, the more re.
manned. Everything was Uttered with
them-the floor, the chairs, the couch,
the tables. He hurried In fear, for
these yellowed sheets whispered be-
hind his back-he was afraid to turn
around-they conspired against him.
They few around like flock of white
birds, and touched him with their
wings. He drove them away. but they
surrounded him in ever narrowing cir
cles, their number grew and grew.
The picture was no longer there. He
himself had removed it yesterday to