Evening star., 1911-06-11
DAGOBERT'S CHILDREN

have drawn them into this room, and if the
| worst happens you have only to rush in and
| take them unawares.'
Dagobert nodded. He had not much
faith in the professors idealism; but he
perceived clearly that the Prussians might
be caught in a trap. He motioned to his
men, and they filed out, Struggling their
shoulders and breathing contemptuous muir
murS.
THE professor of music sat down on the
stool before the piano. He felt that
this was the supreme moment of his life.
For few seconds he listened, and he heard
| the German Commandant say in sad and
pensive voice:
II cannot understand how an artist of
such real power has remained in apparent
obscurity; for since that afternoon at the
| Countess have not heard mentioned"
| Down came the pianist fingers upon the
keys.
| A stir ran through the crouching French
men. In less than half minute the room
might become a shambles.
"Softly, softly!" urged the bass growl of
Dagobert.
| Not the least sound came from the room
where the Prussians were
at is fine toned instrument" rputtered
the professor.
| The door of the inner room opened. He
heard the creak of its hinges; but he did
not turn his head. Grishenheim was stand
ing in the space between the two rooms,
revolver in his hand; and the others crowded
behind him, peering over his shoulder, with
amazement in their faces.
Dagobert, looking through the keyhole of
the outer door, could see them. Only the
cautious policy of the waiting franc -tireur
/ po11 J1
the unleashed rage of his painting wolves.
The professor of music, who saw only the
dying trees and green tinted skies and mel
low fields of the autumn season, who heard
nothing save the pattering of leaves, the
cracking logs of wood fires, the calls of mi
grating birds, leaned forward and played the
sonata as he had played it in ecstatic dreams
"What the deuce! A spy? Cut him
down." hiccuped tipsy voice.
"Stop that hideous noise!' snarled Grish-
enheim, and his blue eyes of a schoolboy
blazed up with fury.
Then he turned his head and looked at
the player again. and that expression of pas
sion died away as abruptly as the howl of
the equinox wind which whirred through the
piano as Marillac's fingers flew up and down.
| The peasant girl, with look of wonder
in her pretty, stupid face, held the Prussian's s
hand, and she appeared to be fascinated by
Grishenheim's swiftly changing expressions
and the tears that glistened under his lashes.
The music ended with plaintive cries and
echoes of cries, the "mournful calls of sun
ward sailing cranes"
| @Monsieur de Marillac?" said the Prussian
in broken voice.
The professor rose and bowed.
at is sacred joy to listen to you, Mon
sieur."
at is an honor to play the work of Herr
Felix Grishenheim."
| "You know me, them"
| Il have that great happiness"
what are you doing here?"
| "Starving."
| THAT shall never be. l ask the privilege
of shaking hands with you, Monsieur"
II am Frenchman, Herr Commandant !"
| II am not Herr Commandant to you.
am your friend"
"And am a franc tireur"
| "And l say that l will kill with my own
hands anyone that hurts a hair of your
head"
| Il am your guest, then, my master?"
| @My honored friend"
@But have other friends, though not so
illustrious, whom should like to introduce
to you. | said to them, I will make Felix
Grishenheim remember only that all men
are brothers, as he teaches in his music >"