The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1915-03-11

table-feats, who claimed the hardest
drinking reputation Of any man in the
capital and he regretted not to have
invented that tale.
"On my word! And the best brands
! had won 1000 roubles. ! left the little
fete with Is kopecks."
Matrena Petrovna was listening to
Ermolai, the faithful country servant
who wore always, even here in the city
his habi, Of fresh nankeen, his black
leather belt, his large blue pantaloons
and his boots glistening like ice, his
country costume in his masters city
home Madame Matrena rose, after
lightly stroking the hair Of her step
daughter Natacha, whose eyes followed
her to the door, Indifferent apparently
to the tender manifestations Of her
fathers orderly the soldier-poet, Boris
Mourazoff, who had written beautiful
verses on the death of the Moscow stu
dents, after having shot them, in the
way of duty, on their barricades.
Ermolai conducted his mistress to
the drawing room and pointed across
to door that he had left open, which
led to the sittingroom before Natacha's
chamber
"He is there" said Ermolai in low
voice.
Ermolai need have said nothing, for
that matter, since Madame Matrena
was aware OF a strangers presence in
the sitting room by the extraordinary
attitude of an individual in maroon
frock coat bordered with false astra-
khan, such as is on the coats of all the
Russian police agents and makes the
secret agents recognizable at first
glance, This policeman was on his
knees in the dra awing-room watching
what passed in the next room through
the narrow space of light In the hinge
way of the door, In this manner, or
some other, all persons who wished TO
approach General Trebassof were kept
under observation without their know
ing it, after having been first searched
at the lodge, a measure adopted since
the latest attack.
Madame Matrena touched the police
mans shoulder with that heroic hand
which had saved her husbands life and
which still bore traces Of the terrible
explosion in the last attack, when she
had seized the Internal machine in
tended for the General with her bare
hand The policeman rose and silently
left the room, reached the veranda and
lounged there on sofa, pretending to
be asleep, but in reality watching the
garden paths.
Matrena Petrovna took his place at
the hinge-vent. This was her rule; she
always took the final glance at every
thing and everybody. She roved at all
hours of the day and night round about
the General, like watchdog, ready to
bite, TO throw itself before the danger
to receive the blows, to perish for it's
master. This had commenced at Mos
COW after the terrible repression, the
massacre of revolutionaries under the
walls of Presnia. when the surviving
Nihilists left behind them placard
condemning the victorious General Tre-
bassof to death. Matrena Petrovna
vowed that she would not survive him.
So she had double reason to guard him.
But she had lost all confidence even
within the walls Of her own home
Things had happened even there that
defed her caution, her instinct, her
love. She had not spoken of these
things save to the Chief OF Police, Kou-
priane. who had reported them to the
Emperor. And here now was the man
whom the Emperor had sent, as the
supreme resource, this young stranger
Joseph Rouletabille, reporter.
But he Is mere boy!" she ex-
claimed, without at all understanding
the matter, this youthful figure, with
soft. rounded cheeks, eyes clear and,
at first view, extraordinarily naive, the
eyes of an infant. True, at the moment
Rouletabille's expression hardly sug-
gested any superhuman profundity of
thought, for. left in view of a table,
spread with hors-d oeuvres, the young
man appeared solely occupied in dig
ging out with a spoon all the caviare
that remained in the Jars. Matrena
noted the rosy freshness of his cheeks,
the absence of down on his lip and not
a hint Of beard, the thick hair with the
curl over the forehead. All, that fore
head--the forehead was curious, with
great overhanging eranial Jumps which
moved above the deep arcade of the
eve-sockets while the mouth was busy
well. one would have said that Rou-
letablle had not eaten for a week. He
was demolishing great slice of Vol
gan sturgeon, contemplating at the
same time with immense interest a
salad of creamed cuoumbers, when Ma
trena Petrovna appeared
He wished to excuse himself at once
and spoke with his mouth full.
az beg your pardon, madame, but the
Gar forgot to invite me to breakfast.
Madame Matrena smiled and gave
him a hearty handshake as she urged
him to be seated.
you have seen his Majesty?'
81 come from him, madame, It is to
Madame Trebassof that have the hon
or of speaking?"
ayes. And YOU are Monsieur"