Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1917-03-01

N'C- 'tiO 'siN "b iiaCl
trusting herself to speak. Gun
less tragedy is plainly labelled and
unless it cries aloud to us in the
streets, we never see it. We never
remember that all tragedies are
clothed in commonplace"
Don't! don't!' he begged. II
cannot endure to see you grieved."
But you are so brave she ex-
cused herself anew. "You laugh,
and work, and do great things-I
i never suspected"
He held out his hand as if he
duplicated her.
Please" he implored, edo not
this little trouble of mine should
not-should not distress you So"
"Ah," she siged, "but it does"
He felt his h~elplessness keenly.
"But it shouldn't" he urged.
"Why should it?"
Her eyes, meeting his, were deep
and unafraid. His momentary
thought was that she was very
brave.
Because you love me-" she
said, her glance still unwavering.
He smiled and bowed again,
reverence possessing him.
"Ah, you have seen it!'' he OBJ
served, lifting his head so that the
sunlight left no line of his face I'm
touched. AS he spoke, there was a
gentle raillery in his tone. 1t was
like a delicate armor to enable
him to withstand her loneliness.
But let me, in my own justitca-
tion, explain"
"Ah," she breathed, "tell me-
"You have been to me-" he said,
the false levity lacing his words
together, "what any mans con
science is to him, if he regards his
conscience as his king. That is
what you have been to me-some-
thing enmeshed in the glamor of
the moon-a far glimpse Of the
lovely flowers of paradise"
81 should not have been that"
she interrupted quickly, %reproach-
ing him.
The tenderness in her eyes
throve.
but to you I could have been
~ he began, more than ever
the graceful actor of a light com
edy. "Why, / was like a jester in
varicolored hose dancing On a bat
Element, dizzy high, for the pass
ing pleasure of a lady of the
court"
He smiled and spread out his
hands in depreciation. The comedy
was weakening.
You know" he reminded her,
"the clowns were always funnier
when they were manned"
"How a you?" she rebuked
him.
1T could not have been other
wise" Rebellion against what he
had suffered forced him to serious
ness. "That is what I ana jester,
a thing for all the world to laugh
at--the sport Of fortune! Why,
don't even know my own name.
My blank past robs the future of
the promise Of any good thing. ]
cannot remember. My memory is
dead"
"And you have never known
who you were-since that night in
the mission-in my m~ission?''s
"Never-since then"
She looked again toward the
hills. A touring car whizzed along
the road behind them. The boat s
whistle, far downstream, blew
again. From somewhere up the
river came the voices Of fishermen
in a rowboat. The world was all
about them, but, to him, it had
shrivelled to the width Of q
woman's eyes.
."And drinking, dissipation
whatever you please to call it,
she said, her glace still toward the
hills, "did this thing to youf"
1T must have; l am persuaded
of that" he answered. bending
forward a little, as if his longing
impelled him.
She turned and took one stel
toward him. They We're very clos,
together. AS they stood so, hi
caught the fragrance of her hair
why don't you try to find it
this past?" she asked.
She spoke the language of reso
luteness.
81 have tried TO find it," he an
swered, a triie heavily. 81 am try
ing. My life is an agony of ex
%ploration, an anguish of disap
pointment. / have employed
agents, trusted men. 1 emplo,
them now. The absurdity Of it
They search the world to find on
La