Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1919-10-03

y
speeding torrent of motor cars alone
possessed the Avenue; and Neeland
turned away into the room again.
And there. before him, stood Rue
Carew.
A confused sense of unreasoning,
Unreasonable happiness rushed over
him, and, in that sudden, astounding
instant of Self-reVelation. self-amaze-
ment left him dumb.
She had given him both her slim
white hands, and he held to them
as though to find his bearings Both
were a trif1e irrelevant and frag-
mentary.
do YOU c-care for tea, Jim?
What a night! What a fright you
gave us; j.. There are croissants,
permit anybody to awaken you; and
l was dying to see you--"
Il am so sorry you were anxious
about me. And I'm tremendously
hungry. You see, Sengoun and
1 did not mean to remain out all
He still retained her hands in his;
she smiled and flushed in breath
less sort of way, and looked some
times at the 'tea-kettle as though she
never before had seen such an OBJ
ject; and looked UP at him AS though
she had never until that moment be-
held any man like him.
"The Princess Naia has left us
quite alone" she said. so 1 must
give you some tea" She was nerv-
Gus and smiling and a little fright
their contact.
Sol shall give you your tea,
now" she repeated.
She did not mention her manual
inability to perform her promise,
but presently it occurred to him to
release her hands, end lie Slid grace
fully into .her chair and took hold of
the silver kettle with fingers that
trembled.
He ate everything offered him, and
then took the initiative. And he
talked-Oh, heaven! How he talked!
Every thing that had happened to
him and to Sengoun from the mo-
ment they left the rue Soleil dor
the night before, this garrulous
young man detailed with a relish for
humorous circumstances and a dis
regard for anything approaching the
tragic, which left her with an i'm
preston that it had all peer a ire
mendous lark-indiscreet, certainly,
and probably reprehensible-bu: a
lark. for all that.
Fireworks, shooting, noise. and
architectural destruction he admit
ted. but casualties he SKINNED over,
and of death he never sail a word.
WY SlOulG he IlC hCdo Wei
dead. None concerned this young
girl now-and,. save one, no death
that any man had died there in the
shambles of the Cafe des Bulgars
could ever mean anything to Rue
Carew.
Some day, perhaps, he might tell
her that Brandes was dead-not
where or how he had died--but
merely the dry detail And she
might docket it, if she cared to, and
remembered, painful things that had
been lived, and now were 10 be for
gotten forever.
shy or excited questions, and the
grey eyes never leaving his-this
Grey eyes tinged with golden
lights, now clear with suspense, now
brilliant at a crisis, now gentle, Won
dering, troubled. as he spoke of Use
Dumont and the Russian girl, now
charmingly vague as her mind out
something. of the sturdy part he
had -golGen-grey eyes that
grew exquisite with her pride in
him, tender with solicitude for
him in danger already passed
away this was her tribute.
the splendoc and mystery of wom-
anhood possessing her - attracting
him, too, fascinating him, threaten
ing, conquering, possessing him
this, the Greek gift of Rue Carew,
her tribute.
And he took ALL forgetting that
the Greeks bore gifts; or, perhaps.
remembering, rejoicing, happy in his
servitude, he took into his heart and
soul the tribute this young girl Of
fered, a grateful, thankful captive.
The terrible cataclysm impending,
menacing the world, they seemed
powerless, yet, to grasp and COM
prehend and understand.
Outside, the street rippled and
roared with the interminable clatter
of passing cavalry; the girl looked
into the eyes of the boy across the
tea-table, and her young eyes, half
fearful, yet enchanted, scarce dared
divine what his eyes were telling her
while his hurrying tongue chartered
irrelevancies.
Three empires, two kingdoms, and
great republic resounded with the
hellish din of arming twenty million
men. Her soft lips were touched
with the. smile of youth that learns
for the first time it is beloved; her
eyes of a child, exquisite, brooding,
rested with a little more courage
now on his-were learning, little by
little, to sustain his gaze, endure the
ardOur that no careless, laughing
speech. of his could hid or dim or
quench.
In the twilight of the streets there
was silence, save for the rush OF
motors and the recurrent trample Of
armed men. But the heart of Ruth
Carew was afire with song-and eV-
cry delicate vein in her ran singing
to her heart.
There was war in the eastern
world; and palace and chancellery
were ablaze. But they spoke of the
west-of humble places and loWly
homes; of still woodlands where
NOSES edged the brooks; of peace
full villages they both had known,
where long. tree-shaded streets slept
in the dappled shadow under the
sun of noon.
Marotte came. silent, self-respect-
ing. very grey and tranquil in his
hour of trial.
There were two letters for Nee
land. left by hand. And, when the
old man had gone away bearing his
silver tray among his heavier bur-
dens:
He read them both aloud to her:
the first amused them a little-not
without troubling them a little, too:
Monsieur Neeland:
1t is the Tzigane, Fiji, who per-
mits herself the honour of address,
ing you.
Breslau escaped, With him went
the plans, 1t seems. You behaVed
admirably in the Cafe des Bulgars.
A Russian comrade has you and
Prince Erik to remember in her
prayers.
You have done we'll, monsieur.
Now, your task is ended. Go back
to the western world and leave us
to end this battle between ourselves.
1t is written and confirmed by the
stars that what the eastern world
has sown it shall now reap all alone.
We Tziganes know You should
not mock at our knowledge. For there
is a dark star Erik, named from
the Prince of He'll. And last night
it was in conjunction with the red
star, Mars. None saw it; none has
ever beheld the dark star, Erik.
But we Tziganes know. We have
known for five thousand years that
I'll; Ia NV