The Carlisle independent., 1915-10-07

lightly. to avoid serious hings Her greatgrandmother had gone lightly to the scaffold. exqrisitely courteous till the last.
 T ask your pardon if jostled you in the tumbrel." the old comtesse had said to her companion on the way to the guillotine. "The springs of the cart are poor"-and she went up smiling.
 In the companionship of the Ameri can girl, Therese de la Maine had thrown off restraint If the Marquise d'Esclignac had felt Julia's influence, Therese de la Maine. being near her own age. echoed Julia's very feeling.
 Except for their drageman and their servants, the two women were alone in the desert.
 Smiling at Julia, Madame de Ia Maine said: "I 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 linn ftless 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!" ,of do said the Comtesse de la Maine, and rubbed her cheek. "I must wear two veils."
 Look, Therese!" Across the face of the desert the glow began to withdraw it's 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 rose!" Julia murmured, smell it's perfumei" 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- toxieating 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. It comes, it escapes When it's present, 1t intoxicates; When it's memory, 1t brings tears. Love is like a sweet breath, It comes and it escapes.
 The weird music filled the silence of the silent place. It 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 a boy She remained looking toward the horizon, immovable, patient. silent watcher over the uncommunicative waste
 
 Perhaps" she thought, there Is nothing really beyond that line. so fast plotting itself into highland yet I seem to see them comet"
 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 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, dark slim figure in the night-isolated and alone-recalled the fgurehead of a ship, its face toward heaven. pioneer ing the open seas.
 
 Julia watched, indeed. On the desert there is the brilliant day, 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 passing vul- ture on his horrid flight Otherwise. until the camp stirred with the dawn and the early prayer-call sounded Al lah! Allah! Akbari" into the still ness, they were wrapped in complete silence.
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