Mexico Missouri message., 1915-07-08

AopeACA
the tumbrel," the old comtesse had
said to her companion on the way 10
the guillotine. THE springs Of the cart
are poor"-and she went up smiling.
In the companionship Of the Ameri-
can girl, Therese de Ia Maine had
thrown off restraint II the Marquise
d'Bsclignac had felt Julia's influence,
Therese de La Maine, being near her
own age, echoed Julia's very feeling.
Except for their dragoman and their
servants, the two women were alone
in the desert.
Smiling at Julia, Madame de La
Maine said: 81 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
have left it behind"
Julia's eyes were fixed upon the lin
itless 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, Theresei"
Already you are as brown as an
Arab, Julia!"
You as well, ma chere amiei"
Robert does not like dark women"
said the Comtesse de la Maine, and
rubbed her cheek. Il must wear two
wells"
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-it
waned before their eyes, withered like
a tea-rose.
Like a 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 were 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,
1t comes, 1t escapes
When it's present, it intoxicates;
When it's memory, 1t brings tears.
Love Is like a sweet breath,
1t comes and II 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
boy. She remained looking toward the
horizon, immovable, patient, a silent
watcher over the uncommunicatiVe
waste.
Perhaps" she thought, there is
nothing really beyond that line, so fast
plotting 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 was
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, a dark
slim figure in the night-isolated and
alone-recalled the figurehead of a
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 a
cry that should hail an approaching
caravan, sometimes hearing the wild
cry of the hyenas, or of a passing vul-
ture on his horrid flight. Otherwise,
until the camp stirred with the dawn
and the early prayer-cail sounded "Al.
lah! Allah! Akbar!" into the still
ness, they were wrapped in complete
silence.
CTo BE CoNTINUED)