The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1914-08-06
CHAPTER XXX.
THE STONE STAIRCASE.

TILE 5TONE bIA1NSA6n.
Battista's prisoner stood at tie bar
red window high up the steep side OF
the castle and stared out wistfully at
the receding infinity OF blueness-his
meadow In the three months since his
letter had gone to France, he had
grown old. The juices of his youth
seemed dried up: his eyes were blood
shot, his skin yellow; there was no
flesh on him. The waiting and hoping
had worn on him more than the dead
level OF the hopeless years before.
lightly built figure. oven in the long.
delicate, strong fingers. The prisoner
had caught whiff Of the air Of home
and was choking for a full breath.
1t had not been so before. The
brightness OF his temperament had
done him good service at first. Eager,
vehement, energetic, he had the heart
of contented little child, and It had
led him to play and be happy In his
prison, as q. .buoyant child will make
a boat or the chair In which he Is set
for punishment and sail away into
adventures. This man, developing out
OF the boy thrown into prison five years
ago, might well prove to have lmita-
lions. Full of force and IRE and
gentleness. he had the virtues OF his
qualities, but he had their defects, too.
II might yet well be that he would fall
short In sober judgment; 1t might be
that he would not be found ftted for
any complication OF res 7onsibility Yet
there was in him 7c.nething Of the
vision Of the mystic, something Of that
power-caIled what It may be--which
has in all ages worked miracles and
moved mountains. Out Of his COM
panic1s sea and sky and distance
out II great spaces outside and great
silence inside his prison he had drawn
power, and risen step by step In the
years. On the foundation OF the
Catholicism in which he had been
brought up he had built a religion
whose breadth reached right and left
beyond the old measure and covered
living things with the charity which
suffers long and Is kind; whose height
stretched up into hopes underlined, OF
things unseen. All Of this had comfort
ed him and kept the glow OF his soul
undulled. - ts TAI,
But since Battista's SON, the little
BRttista--who had been q fisherman
and not much known about the castle
since he had gone to France with
those two letters Of Francois sewed In
to his right coat sleeve, a restlessness
all but uncomfortable had seized the
prisoner He knew as well as his jailer
tales Of men thrown into dungeons
coming out many years after old and
broken--of men never coming out at
all. No crueler tyrants than the
Austrians ever ruled, and no more
pitiless. And now that his letters had
actually gone, now that they might
actually be in the hands Of the people
he loved and who loved him, unrest
tortured him. He counted the days OF
the journey, the chances OF delay, he
made allowances, and at last he be-
lieved, with a thrill OF JOY and of pain
at each thought OF It, that little Bat
his mother and Alike must have his let
tiers. With that unrest, grew flercer.
They could not help him. What could
they do2 How could they do anything
against the iron wall Of Austrian
He said such things over to HIM
self, even aloud. to keep down a hope
which he could not bear to let grow
for fear Of the anguish OF its slow
death. But the hope grew and was
anguish in it's growth. He could not
help hoping, believing that the gen
eral. that Pietro, that Alike, with her
force and energy and inventive
ness. would yet save him. And
the hope and the fear racked him and
he wasted away and burned as with
| fever.
"You are not well, my friend" said
the governor, THE doctor must see
you" ar W..
But Francois refused lightly and
laughed and fell TO singing an old peas
ant song OF France which he had re-
membered lately; he got up on the
table and droned it to an imaginary
fiddle which he pretended to play after
| the manner OF old Jacques Arne, who
played for dances In Vtcques.
''De tous cote's Pom dit que je suis
bette .-. aa# ....
Celia Sc peutI EFT dependant + ne ris
Car, mes anis, 81 Py perd la tete,
| Je NY perd pas pour celia, Pappetitl
Assis a table. a pombre dune trielle
Je bois ct ris = 49,.
EFT gaiment ie m'ecrie r-a.s..
En- avahant bouteille sur lbouteille,
/ A quot sert Iesprit?'
So ran the song. And the governor
| was taken with a, violent fancy for 1t
i He roared at IL, and sang II over IN
fragments till he had learned II, AND
then he sang IL and roared again and
slapped hts knee! there was q drol
comedy In Francois rendering also. moi
that Francois must come TO his rooms
4 the next night for dinner and sing hin
the song again and also listen TO {
to be swplained--and the count SAID
new one OF his own.
So Francois was taken down thu
Il stone staircase and conducted 10 Ln'
1 two rooms which were the GOVERNOR
suite. He knew them well, for ne hat
dined, as has. been said, many times
| with the count But tonight he wa
1 left alone a few moments In the QUITE
| room. the living room, while the gov
ernor was in the bedroom, and ~
looked about keenly with a strained az
4 tention (which grew out OF the sup
pressed hope Of escape. Who kneg