The Winslow mail., 1914-10-24
CHAPTER XIII.
Each a Flaming Center.

Each Flaming Center.
| @UCH was the last state of Paris,
- and and such on larger scale wa. was
T. y the condition of affairs in Chi
cago, and the same fate had
overtaken Berlin, Moscow, Tokyo, the
eastern half of London, Toulon, Kiel
and two hundred and eighteen other
centers of population or armament.
| Each was a flaming center of radiant
destruction that only time could
| quench, that. indeed in many instances
time has still to quench. To this day.
though indeed with a constantly dimin-
ishing uprOar and vigor, these explo-
sions continue. In the way of nearly
every country Of the world three or four
more red circles, a score of miles in
diameter, mark the position of the dy
ing atomic bombs and the death areas
that men have been forced to abandon
| around them. Within these areas per
ished museums, cathedras, palaces
| libraries, galleries of masterpieces and
vast accumulation of human achieve
ment, whose charred remains lie buried
|
future generations may hope to eX
! anime.
The state of mind Of the dispossessed
urban population which swarmed and
| per1shed so abundantly over the cOun
| tryside during the dark days of the
autumnal months that followed the
| last war was one of blank despair
| Barnet gives sketch after sketch Of
groups of these people camped among
the vineyards of Champagne as he saw
| them during his period of service with
the army of pacifcation.
There was, for example, that "man
milliner" who came out from a field
| beside the road that rises up eastward
out of Epernay and asked how things
were going in Paris. He was, says
Barnet, a round faced man dressed
very neatly in black, so neatly that it
was amazing to discover he was living
| close at hand in a tent made of car
pets, and he had IAN urbane but insist
ent manner" carefully trimmed mus
tache and beard, expressive eyebrows
and hair very neatly brushed.
mo one goes into Paris" said Bar
| net.
But, monsieur that is very unen-
terprising," the man by the wayside
submitted
"The danger is too great. The radia-
tons eat into peoples SKINS"
The eyebrows protested. "But is
nothing to be done?''
Nothing can be done"
But, monsieur, it is extraordinarily
inconvenient, this living in exile and
waiting. My wife and my little boy
suffer extremely There is a lack of
amenity. And the season advances.
say nothing of the expense and diff
Guilty in obtaining provisions. When
does monsieur think that something
will be done to render Paris-pos
sible?"
Barnet considered his interlocutor
Pm told said Barnet, that Paris
is not likely to be possible again for
several generations"
"Oh! but this is preposterous! Con
slider, monsieur! What are people like
|
am a costumier. All my connections
and interests, above all my style, de-
mand Paris"
Barnet considered the sky, from
which light rain was beginning to
fall, the wide fields about them from
which the harvest had been taken, the
trimmed poplars by the wayside.
Naturally" he agreed, you want to
go to Paris. But Paris is over"
"Ovcrr'
"FinShed
But then, monsieur-what is to be-
| cOme-Of meT'
Barnet turned his face westward,
whittier the white road led.
Where else, for example, may /
hope to find-opportunityW
Barnet made no reply.
"Perhaps on the Riviera. Or at some
such place as Homburg. Or some
place perhaps"
"Al that" said Barnet. accepting
| for the first time facts that had lain
evident in his mind for weeks; "all
that must be over too"
! There was pause. Then the voice
beside him broke out: But, monsieur,
it is impossible! 1t leayes-nOthing."
mo. Not very much"
"One cannot suddenly begin to grow
| potatoes?'
''It would be good if monsieur could
bring himself
"To the life of peasant! And my
wife You do not know the distingu-
fshed delicacy Of my wife, refined
Eelplessness, q peculiar dependent
charm. Like some slender tropical