The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1909-01-23
Copyright. by shortstory Pub. Coz

Mr.. Baroque sat as if turned 10
stone. Abruptly sfnhala began to
speak:
"A seemingly interminable road
winds through tropical forest: From
It's either side gigantic trees throw
branches together in the semblance Of
an arch, SO that its dim whiteness
alone makes it descernible even in the
glare of midday. Along this highway
horseman rides leisureIy, his head
bent in thought, his eyes upon the
path. Almost at his horses feet lie a
few stones, roughly forming the
device OF a sWastika with struggling
arms. BY another observer the SYM
Dol would have been passed unnoticed,
but to this man, a lover of Ro1nany
| traditions and frequenter of gypsy
eneampments. it is as full of signifi-
canoe as was one knights coat-of-
arms to a fellow-knight in the days of
chiyalry It tells him that a fam
lily of a certain Romany tribe has
passed that way. Certain of being able
to overtake them, he touches up his
horse.
Soon he sees a moving shadow
ahead of him, and makes out a cart.
such as Flemish mi1k-carriers use,
drawn by woman and a dog. In an
swer to his hail the strange caravan
halts. The woman, on hearing his
greeting in her native speech, drops
the cross-bar of the cart-tongue,
against which she had been strainfng,
and advances a step or two, while her
trace mate, a huge, gaunt, white dog,
sinks painting in his tracks. The &C.
cupant of the cart raises his head to
stare at the traveller with eyes burn
ing bright from fever. For a second
the horseman is afraid-afraid of the
silent group. The fancy flashes across
his brain that in all but their eyes
the six great balls of fire burning
through the dusk into his-these way
farers are dead. The ragged woman,
who is yet but a slip Of girl with a
small, triangular face framed in Cos
samer-lfke hair, is dead; the man,
with his tangled black locks and skel-
eton figure, is dead; the phantom
white dog is dead.
with an effort the horseman shakes
off the Illusion as the utter restitution
of their circumstances and the hope
lessness Of the mans fight for life
forces itself upon him. He offers them |
his hospitality-they are upon his |
plantation now-and it is but the |
length Of the road to his bungalow.
And the girl, seeing a friend in their
sore straits, accepts for her father, /
who she says was cruelty hurt a I
month or so ago. Thus, with the
tacit understanding of good-felloWship |
between them, they make all haste to
the house. where everything possible
is done for the sick mans comfort.
But without avail. In less than
a month Zillah, for such is the girls
name, Zillah and the dog are alone in
the world Then all the chivalry in
the mans nature wells up, and he.
suddenly aware that the girl he has
hitherto regarded as mere child,
is in reality a woman, marries her out
of hand
For a few years life on the planta.
ton is an fdyll. But one day the
man tires-the next he is gone
The speaker paused as brusquely
as he had plunged into his narrative.
I locked at Mr.. Basoque, the grew
some imagery Of the story's horseman
fastening itself upon rue. for the man
had not stirred since the beginning OF
the recital, though his distended eyes
now gazed beyond sinhala into
space. The Cingalese folded his
arms across his chest and recon-
with her child in her arms tbs
gypsy wife goes in search of its IA.
her, the love she has borne him sharp.
9ned to the rankle of hate. Her pur.
bose drives her east and west and north
md south restlessly, till, wearied by
1ootless wanderings, she returns to
he plantation to find the valley
,hoked with fotsam. Poverty-strick.
IN, without strength for further eff.
sort, she leaves her son in the care
If the mission fathers. They, good
men, labor to erase from the boys
iilHu Tue UNDERSTANDINGS, even Lie
memory of his mothers legacy, not
,ea1izing that heritage of hate once
can never be obliterated
rom the heart of a gypsy, for the
,tubble will roughen the field long
litter the harvest is garnered. And {
he harvest is to him who will but /
val"
stnhala pushed back his chair and
ose from the table
''Voici lie sabre de mon pere," he
aid, bowling nonchalantly to the com. /
,any. +
Instine3ively we turned with one :
.ccord to Mr.. Baroque.
He was dead in his chair.