The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1912-12-12

! the sea, she next became aware she
was looking up toward a temporary
altar, garish with bright colors.
"Etends sur nous" Louder rose
! the voices; more uncomfortable be-
( came the demeanor Of the people, and
! quickly, before the unveiling of the
/ sacred relics had completely mad
dened them, she managed to eXtricate
herself from the kneeling or pros
trate throng; GREATNESS, she fled the
vicinity.
Down, down! Into the heart Of the
village; through tertuous footpaths,
, where the pandering, not pietistic, ele-
ment held sway; where, instead of
shrines and affairs, had been erected
booths and stands before which ven
doris of nondescript viands or poor
trumpery vented their loquacity on
the pilgrims;
All hot, All hot"
"A la barque! A recaille!"
LA vie! Two drinks for a liard!"
VOLTA lie plaisir des dames!"
The Mount, in olden times a glori-
Gus and sacred place for royal pilgrim
ages, where kings came to pray and
; seek absolution, seemed now more
mart than holy spot. But those whom
the petty traders sought to entice-
sullen-looking peasants, or poorly clad
fishermen and their families-for the
most part listened Indifferently, or
with stupid derision.
BAH" scoffed one of them, wom-
an dressed in WORKOUT costume of in
herited holiday tinery. Where think
you we can get sous for gewgaws?"
COR full stomaChs with empty
pockets?" said another. "The foul
fiend take your Portugals,"
The nomadic merchants replied and
a rough alteration seemed impend-
ing, when, pushing through the crowd,
the girl hurried on.
Down, down. she continued; to the
base of the rock where the sands shin
ing surface had attracted and yet
held many of the people. Thither
they still continued to come-in
bands; professions; little streams
that, trickling in, mingled with and
augmented the rabble. An encamp-
ment for the hour-until the petite"
tide should break it up, and drive it
piecemeal to the shore or up the
sides of the Mount-it spread out and
almost around the foundations of the
great rock. Only the shadows it
avoided-the chilling outlines of pin
nacles and towers; the cold impress
of the saint, holding close to the sun
lit strand and basking in its warmth.
Some, following the example of their
sea-faring fellows, dug half -heartedly
in the sands in the hope of eking out
the meager evening meal with
course, salt-favored; others, abandon,
ing themselves to lighter employment,
made merry in heavy or riotous fash
ion, but the effect of these holiday
efforts was only depressing and in
congruous.
Wont you john" Some ones arm
abruptly seized my lady.
mo, no."
Unceremoniously he still would have
drawn her into the ring. but with
sudden swift movement, she escaped
from his grasp.
My child" The voice was that Of
a wolfish false friar who, seeing her
pass quickly near by, broke off in
threat, solicitation and appeal for sous,
to intercept her. aren't you in hur'
ry, my child?"
1T may be-" she answered steadily,
with no effort to conceal her aversion
at sight of the cleaning eyes and
teeth. Too much so, to speak with
you, who are no friar!"
What mean YOU" His expression,
ingratiating before, had darkened, and
from his mean eyes shot a malignant
look; she met it with fearless dis
dain.
THAT you make pretext of this
holy day to rob the people-as If
they are not poor enough"
Ban you with bell, book and can
die! Your tongue is too sharp, my
girl" he snarled, but did not linger
long, finding the flashing glance. the
contemptuous mien, or the truth OF
her words. little to his liking. That
he profited not by the last, however.
was soon evident, as with amulets and
talismans for a bargain, again he
moved among the crowd, conjuring by
a full calendar of saints, real and
imaginary. and protesting to excom'
municate, in an eXecrable confusion
Of monkish gibberish, where the PEG
pie could not, or would not comply
with his demands.
80 they are-poor enough" Lean
ing on stick, an aged fishwife who
had drawn near and overheard part of
the dialogue between the thrifty rogue
and the girl, now shook her withered
head. "Yet still to be cozened! Never
too poor to be cozened!" she repeated
in shrill falsetto tones.
And why" sharply my lady turned
to the crone, why are they so poor?
The lands are rich-the soil fertile"
"Why?" more shrilly. You must
come from some far-off place not to
know. Why? Don't you, also, have
to pay metayage to some great lord?
And banalite here, and banalite there,
until"
But surely, if you applied to your
great lord, your Governor; il you told
biun-"