Tombstone epitaph., 1915-04-11

and his shadow fell across the two women.
 Mme. Nalles raised her hands. She was going to cry out. but somehow she did not. Instead she managed % get to door; it opened into her bedroom.
 Put him here. Maurice Can you get a doctor?"
 Beaujon laid Jean down on his mothers bed. He patted Mime. Valles' cheek so softly in his pity.
 No. Jean does not need a doctor, Mama valles."
 He went out, closing the door on the two. There was a stranger in he dining room. and he remembered Mime. Valles did not like curious eyes.
 He sat down in the first chair he reached. exhausted. The guest in the hotel was an American-Miss Dewey. She had ex- | pected to join friends in Berlin. She kept saying to herself that she had never expected this war when she went abroad.
 | When she saw Beaujon's pallor she | ran to the kitchen and called Marie, | the young girl who assisted Mme. Valles as a kind of underhousekeep- CT, to bring hot coffee at once. They have brought home Mme. Valles' son dead" she exclaimed, and I think the man who brought him is i'll. He looks so white"
 Yes, mademoiselle." answered Marie. Her hand shook so she kept pouring the coffee into the saucer in- stead of the cup.
 | Here" said Miss Dewey. T will attend to that" She seized the coffee pot and poured the coffee with a steady hand. Now you bring basin | of warm water to wash his feet They are bleeding and his stockings are cut in shreds'
 Yes. mademoiselle," answered Ma. rie Please tell me-where is Jean?'
 His mother has him in her room. She has shut the door. Hurry with that basin. Marie" Miss Dewey went back to Beaujon. Try to take a little of this coffee. It will do you good
 Beaujon lifted his heavy eyes to her | face. Thank you" Marie came hurrying in with towels and a basin of water and. kneeling down. peeled of the ragged stockings with tender fingers. She was young and dark and richly colored.
 Suddenly she pressed Beaujon s bare feet to her bosom, sobbing, while she murmured: My Jean, IVY Jean,"
 She was to have married Jean Valles in the autumn. Beaujon's brows contracted with pity. Poor Marie" he said. Poor Marie," His mind seemed entirely clear again.
 The coffee helped him. He watched her as she sat back on her heels, let ting his feet drop into her lap and looking up pitifully at him | Now. I shall have no husband He saw her poor, little. dropping mouth. the woe in her eyes.
 It was more than grief for Jean. It was desolation come upon her The issues of life were cut of She .would have no husband. no children. Why was she left a woman?
 This was what war did for women Beaujon spoke with difficulty. for his throat was tired. Marie. if I live will return and be your husband
 When she saw the kindness on his face she bent forward and laid her face against his breast. sobbing He patted her shoulder until she grew quiet. Then he said: Now, I mus, be going"
 Miss Dewey was crying. too. She ran out to get him another cup oi coffee. What. a good man." she thought.
 Marie knelt and dried his feet and put pair of clean stockings on him They were Papa Valles', as were also the boots. she brought. Papa valles had gone to the war. too: and he was big man like Beaujon, not slight like Jean. Jean was so pretty-like girl Her tears feli more gently
 Beaujon pulled on the boots He rose and shook hands with Mis-: Dewey. "Good-by." he said. "Wher you return to your own country re member us"
 She stood on the steps of the hotel while Marie followed him to the road
 Wait" he said; T was forgetting something"
 He thrust his hand into his pocke and drew forth big key and gave | to Marie. Tt is the key 10 my shop If do not come back all is yours"
 She took 1t as a child might Yes She kept her eyes fixed wist fully on Beaujon's face.
 "Good-by," he said. and bent to kis, her cheek; then suddenly drew he |, into his arms and kissed her mouth "Good-by, my wife,"
 The blood coursed freely througl his veins once more. That kiss-s, fresh. so sweet-had revived him. l was as though Marie had become stranger with whom he had falIel in love at first sight. Their love sprang new born iron this moment: it had no past. He wen of down the road with a swingini step, his shoulders squared. The goo, God meant we'll by man. His han, must be over this somehow-yes- over it all
 Where is his shop, Marie?' aske, Miss Dewey.
 L II. l.