Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1914-03-14

knows more things than a man."
With that she threw up her head
and fixed Jean Philippe, drinking in
all this, with an unexpected stern
glance What are you doing here,
Moison? What manners are these?"
Then, relapsing in a flash into pure
human trust and affection toward the
anxious old servant: MY dear, old.
good Moison-he is alive-Monsieur
Francois is alive-in a horrible prison
in italy, But he is alive, Moison!"
And with that, a sudden jump again
into dignity. who brought this, Moi
SOM"
Jean Philippe was only too happy
to have hand in the joyful excite
ment. "MademoiseIle, the young per-
son speaks little language. But he
told me to say to monsieur the mar
quis that he was the little Battista.'
Pietro looked up quickly. alike, it
is the servant from my old home of
whom 1 spoke to you. / can not imag-
inc how Francois got hold of him, but
he chose good messenger. May /
have him brought here? He must have
something to tell u.s.
Alike, her letter in her hands, strug-
gled in her mind. Then: 1.-The letter
can read it all the better after for
what he may tell u.s.
So Moison, having orders to produce
at once the said little Battista, retired,
much excited, and returned shortly
but not so shortly as to have omitted
a fling of the great news into the
midst of the servants hall. He con-
Quoted, marching behind him, the lit
tie Battista, an enormous young man
of six feet four, erect, grave, stately.
This dignified person, saluting the lady
with deep bow, dropped on one knee
before his master, his eyes full of a
worshiping joy, and kissed his hand.
Having done which, he arose silently
and stood waiting, with those beaming
eyes feasting on Pietro's face, but
otherwise decorous
First the young marquis said some
friendly words of his great pleasure in
seeing his old servant and the friend
of his childhood, and the big man
stood with downcast eyes, with the
color flushing his happy face. Then,
''Battista," asked the marquis, how
did you get the letter which you
brought mademoise1le?
MY father" answered Battista Ia
conically.
How did your father get it?"
From the signor prisoner, my sig
nor"
Alike and Pietro looked at him at
tentively, not comprehending by what
means this was possible. Pietro, re-
membering the little Battista of old,
vaguely remembered that he was in
capable of initiative in speech. One
must pump him painfully.
Was your father in the prison
where the signor is confined?" Alike
asked.
The little Battista turned his eyes
on her a second, approvingly,, but
briefly. They went back without delay
to their affair of devouring the face
of his master. But he answered
promptly Yes, signorina; he is there
always
Always" Pietro demanded in
alarm rs Battista prisoner"
But no, my signor."
What then? Battista, try to tell
US"
So adjured, little Battista made a
violent effort. He is one of the jail
ers, my signor-'
CALLERS? For the Austrians?" The
face of the marquis took all the joy
full light out of the face of little Bat
tista.'
MY signor,' he stammered, cit
could not be helped He was there. He
knew the castle. They forced him at
first, and-and it came to be So
Knew the castle!" Pietro repeated.
What CASTER
Battista's eyes turned to his Mas
ter's like those of faithful dog, trust
| ing but not understanding. What cas-
| tie, my signor? Castelforte-the sig
nor's own castle-what other?"
A sharp exclamation from Alike
summed up everything. Your castle
| is confiscated; they use it as a prison
Francois is a prisoner there, Pietro,
All these years-in your own homeI'
| Il never dreamed of that" Pietro
spoke, thinking aloud. Every other
prison in Austria and Italy l have tried
to find him in I never dreamed OF
Castelforte.''
At the end of the interview the little
Battista put his hand into his breast
pocket and brought out another letter
thickly folded Would mademoiselle
have him instructed where to find the
mother of the signor prisoner? He had
| promised to put this into her own
| hands He must do 1t before he
1 touched food.
And Jean Philippe Moison, who had
| lurked discreetly back of the nearest
stone vase, not missing a syllable, was
given orders, and the huge little Bat