Iowa state bystander. [volume] (Des Moines, Iowa) 1894-1916, 1913-11-07
TRAGEDY OF ...
ROSE PETALS
Ely JEAN D'AUVERGNE.

at Its highest In the topsy-turvy an.
cient city OF Moscow. which. In spite
OF Its stucco German buildings and
miniature American sky-scrapers. still
seems to recall the east at every cor
ner Of it's tortuous streets. Even the
rose sellers here are different from
tie pale-tGced, tired.looking men and
women who ply the same trade In the
great cities If western Europe. Every
mornlng. when the dawn Is just begin.
ming to break and the sun, like great
red ball Of fire. Is forcing its way up
into the silver-gray sky, they take
their stand-a ragged, bare-footed
band Of smiling urchins--on the new
hiicge beside the Brest station.
Motor cars are comparatively rare
in Moscow, and the rose sellers have
not yet learned to Judge their decep-
tive pace with the same nicely as
their American prototypes. And so
sometimes it happens that the bridge
is q silent witness Of many little
tragedy. Suddenly there Is a startled
shou. OF warning from the driver. The
car akes wide swerve to the side
\ piercing shrek rings out in the cold
morning air. A sickening thud fol.
lows. The car stops. while police.
nan comes forward with his note
book. The little fellow Is taken into
the car and driven off to the nearest
police station.
In little by-street across the river
In the dirtest part Of the town frail.
shriveled.up little woman Is busily
cleaning out her room. She sWears
gently to herself every few minutes
The samovar has been ready for over
an hour, and her brat Of boy has not
yet come home. Most likely he has
gone off with the other lads to play
pitch and toss. She Is still meditating
on the punishment she will certainly
mete out to him when a knock at the
door disturbs her, and the great, gruf
voice of the doorkeeper rings out:
Maria Vasilyevna! Maria Vasilyev-
ma! You are wanted at the ouchastok
(police station) at once"
A policeman pushes his way into the
room. Wonderingly she wraps shawl
about her head and totters out into
the street. The neighbors gaze at her
lazlly, cur,uusly, and exchange notes
with each other as to the exact nature
of the crime Maria Vasilyevna has
committed. At the ouchastok she Is
I, oriv tnr rP-
flce tie has a harsh voice. but he
looks at i r not unknidly.
See, little mother" he says STAN
meringly. while he shuffles on the floor
with his heavy top boots. there has
been an accident"
She bows her head resjgnedly.
1T is my Pavel, Is it not?"
The officer mods assent. He takes
her into another room and shows her
the poor, emaciated body with the
white, pinched face and the wide
open, startled eyes. The little hand
Is clenched tightly over a bunch Of
faded roses.
is that your SOM" he asks.
uc dlS"cIlu6 yCo ID o"dAAO"CA
up in the muttering of prayer. AS
gently as he can the officer leads her
beck into his office. The law must be
carried out, and the body has to be
identified. He shows her where to
make her mark in his book, for she
cannot write her name.
May take the roses with me?" she
asks pleadingly.
The reply Is in the affirmative.
She goes back to the bare, cold NOR.
tuary. A bunch OF faded roses is lying
beside the corpse. Greedily, cunning.
ly, as though frightened that the Off.
Ger might go back on his word, and
without a thought for the body beside
her. she gathers up the precious bun
die. She counts them over once, twice
lest there be any mistake. Then, with
O quiet good by, she takes her leave.
Once in her own home she puts the
flowers in water, but the faded petals
refuse to resume their appearance OF
freshness.
1.-The devil take them." she mutters
dlsgustedly. They are not worth ten
copecks-not even on the Tverskaia.'
SIZE takes a needle and pricks the
long, green stems III last effort to re-
vive them, but the flowers are as dead
ns the child whom she has just left.