Cheyenne record., 1915-12-30

Except for their 0ragoman and thedv
servants, the two women were alone
in the desert.
Smiling at Julia, Madame de la
Maine said: Il haven't been SO far
from the Rue de la Paix in my life."
"How can you speak of the Rue de
la Paix. Therese?"
"Only to show you how completely l
have left it behind"
Julia's eyes were fixed upon the linn
ttless sands, a sea where faint line
lost itself in the red west and the hori-
zon shut from her sight everything
that she believed to be her life.
"This is the seventh day. Therese!"
Already you are as brown as an
Arab, Julia!"
you as well, ma chere amie!"
Robert does not like dark women"
said the Comtesse de la Maine. and
rubbed her cheek. II must wear two
veils."
Look, Therese!"
Across the face of the desert the
glow began to withdraw its curtain.
The sands suffused an ineffable hue, a
shell-like pink took possession, and the
desert melted and then grew colder-tt
waned before their eyes, withered like
q tea-rose.
Like q rose!" Julia murmured,
smell its perfume!" She lifted her
head, drinking In with delight the
fragrance of the sands.
Ma chere julia" gently protested
the comtesse, lifting her head. per
fume, Julia!" But she breathed with
her friend, while sweetly subtle. in.
toxicating odor, as of millions and mil.
lions Of roses, gathered, warmed, kept,
then scattered on the airs Of heaven,
intoxicating her.
To the left we're the huddled tents OF
their attendants. No sooner had the
sun gone down than the Arabs com
menced to sing-a song that Julia had
especially liked:
Love is like a sweet perfume.
It comes, it escapes.
When it's present. 1t intoxicates:
When it's memory. It brings tears.
Love Is like q sweet breath,
It comes and 1t escapes
The weird music filled the silence OF
the silent place. 1t had the evanescent
quality of the wind that brought the
breath of the sand-fowers. The voices
of the Arabs, not unmusical, though
hoarse and appealing, cried out their
love-song, and then the music turned
to invocation and to prayer.
The two women listened silently as
the night fell, their figures sharply
outlined in the beautiful clarity of the
eastern night.
Julia stood upright. In her severe
riding dress, she was as slender as q
boy. She remained looking toward the
horizon, immovable. patient. a silent
watcher over the uncommunicative
waste.
Perhaps" she thought. there ii
nothing really beyond that line. SO fast
blotting itself into highland yet
seem to- see them come!"
Madame de la Maine, in the door
of her tent, immovable. her hands
clasped around her knees, look affec
tionately at the young girl before her
Julia was a delight to her. She waa
carried away by her, by her frank sim
plicity, and drawn to her warm and
generous heart. Madame de la Maine
had her own story. She wondered
whether ever, for any period Of her
conventional life, she could have
thrown everything aside and stood out
with the man she loved.
Julia, standing before her, darh
slim figure in the night-isolated and
alone-recalled the flgurehead of
ship, its face toward heaven. pioneer
ing the open seas.
Julia watched, indeed. On the desert
there is the brilliant day, a passionate
glow, and the nightfall. They passed
the nights sometimes listening for q
cry that should hail an approaching
caravan, sometimes hearing the wild
cry of the hyenas, or Of passing vul.
ture on his horrid flight. Otherwise,
until the camp stirred with the dawn
and the early prayer-call sounded "Al.
lah! Allah! Akbar!" into the still.
ness, they were wrapped in complete
silence.
CTo BE CoNTINUED.)