Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-09-30

CHAPTER vi.
The Bird Behind Bars.

IT HE most beautiful blue Irish eyes
L in the world gazed out at the
dawn which turned night-blue into
day-blue and paled the stars. Rosal
lay the undulating horizon, presently
to burst into living flame transmitting
the dull steel bars of the window into
fairy gold, that trick of alchemy so
futilely sought by man. There was
a window at the north and another
at the south, likewise barred; but
the Irish eyes never sought these two.
1t was from the east window only
that they could see the long white
road that led to Paris.
The nightingale was truly Gagged.
But the wild heart of the eagle beat
in this nightingale's breast and the
eyes burned as fiercely toward the
east as the east burned toward the
west Sunday and Monday, Tuesday
and Wednesday and Thursday, to-
day; and that the five dawns were
singular in beauty and that she had
never in her life before witnessed
the creation of five days, one after
another, made no impression upon
her sense of the beautiful, so deli
cate and receptive in ordinary times.
She was conscious that within her
the cup of wrath was overlooking.
OF other things, such as eating and
sleeping and moving about in her
cage (more like an eagle indeed than
a nightingale), recurrence had blunt
ed her perception.
Her colthes were soiled and
crumpled, sundrily torn; her hair was
her temples and forehead-thick
black hair, full of purple tones in the
sunlight-for she had not surrendered
peacefully to this incarceration.
Dignity, that phase of philosophy
which accepts quietly the inevitable,
she had thrown to the winds. She
had fought desperately, prlmordially,
when she had learned that her err
rand of mercy was nothing more than
a cruel hoax.
"Oh but he shall pay, he shall pay!"
she murmured, striving to loosen the
bars with her small, white, helpless
hands. The cry seemed to be an arl-
eta, for through all these four mad
dening days she had voiced it--noW
low and deadly with hate, now full
toned in burning anger, now broken
by sobs of despair. "Will you never
come, so that l may tell you how base
and vile you are?" she further ad-
dressed the east.
She had waited for his appearance
on Sunday. Late in the day one of
the 1ailers had informed her that it
was impossible for the gentleman to
come before Monday. So she mar
shaled her army of phrases, of accu-
sations, of denunciations, ready to
smother him with them the moment
he came. But he came not Monday,
nor Tuesday, nor Wednesday. Inc
suspense was to her mind diabolical.
She began to understand; he intended
to keep her there till he was sure that
her spirit was broken, then he would
come. Break her spirit? She laughed
wildly He could break her spirit no
more easily than she could break these
bars. To bring her to Versailles upon
an errand of mercy! Well, ne was
capable of anything.
The room was large and fairly COM
Portable. but contained nothing break
able, having been tenanted at one
time by a strenuous lunatic, who had
considerably died after his immediate
family and relations had worn them
selves into their several graves, TAX
ing care of him. But Eleonora Harri-
gan knew nothing of the history OF
the room while she occupied it. So,
no ghost disturbed her restless SUM-
berless nights, consumed in watching
and listening.
She was not particularly distressed
because she knew that it would not
be possible for her to sing again
until the following winter in New
York. She had sobbed too much, with
her face buried in the pillow. Had
these sobs been born of weakness all
might have been well; but rage had
mothered them, and thus her voice
was in q very bad way. This morn
ing she was noticeably hoarse, and
there was a break in the arietta. No,
she did not fret over this side of the
calamity. The sting of it all lay in
the fact that she had been outraged
in the matter of personal liberty,
with no act of reprisal to ease her
immediate longing to be avenged.
Nora, as she stood in the full morn
ing sunlight, was like to gladden. the
eyes of all mankind. She was beauti-
full, and all adjectives applicable
would but serve to confuse rather
than to embellish her physical excel
lence. She was as beautiful as a gar
den rose is needing no defense, no
ramparts of coying phrases. The day
of poets is gone, otherwise she would
have been sung in cantos. She was
tall, shapely. deep bosomed. fine
skinned Critics, in praising her
charms, delved into mythology and
folklore for comparisons, until there
wasn't goddess left on Olympus oil
on Northland's icy capes; and when
these images became little shop
worn referred to certain masterpieces
of the old fellows who had left moth
ing more to be said in oils. Nora en-
joyed it all.
She had not been happy in the