Evening star., 1924-05-22
CHAPTER XIII.
Fate,s Crossroads.
r was a difficult thing to under

T was dlmcult tnine 10 unoof-
stand.
Elise had never realized that
before, until she stepped from
DR.. Lapierre's house into the bright
warm sunshine, and walked with the
crowds on the pavements.
Death
To die, to leave all this behind
this life, its hope. it's fear. its disap-
pointment To die-to go over the
edge into the unknown. To forget
and be forgotten. To die.
She tried to imagine what II must
be like She tried to find comfort in
the religious teachings of her convent
days and failed; for in her was youth,
youth with a hold firm on life, youth
to whom life is the alpha and omega
of all things; youth to whom death Is
a cloud no bigger than a mans hand
on the far horizon, a thing to pass
unnoticed, a thing which might grow
and cover all the heavens-one day,
but that day a long way off.
A man passed her, an ex-pofiu,
wounded in the war. He dragged him
self on ono leg, with crutches, and on
his country had given him in ex-
change for his limb.
A day previous Elise would have
pitied him Now she envied him with
all her heart and soul and might
Envied him! For though he had lost
his leg, he had his life. He would
| live to be old, for a lost leg does not
ters. sunshine and cloud, the roses
| and the snowfiakes. He would hear
! the birds and see the hillsides. He
would live on till the appointed time,
when the world was wearying him
and he went willingly to that promise
which now seemed so empty to her.
There might be children about his
knee to listen to his stories of when
the German guns thundered death on
| the frontier, and men died in filth
| and muck and slime because a few
criminals had spoken in council His
| lost leg, instead OF being a burden to
him, instead of being a reproach to
| all humanity, would be something en-
nobled, and little boys would listen
eagerly to the tale Of how he lost IT,
and listen again and again. and ad-
| mire him. go that when their time
came they. too would go forth bravely,
| pitiful, sacrifices on the altar of fu-
| tility.
He would be happy. He probably
was happy. For he had life.
She envied him. She dared not hope
to be whole and hale and strong.
Dared not. But if it had only been q
limb she must lose; or an eye; or an
ear. Only that, AS long as she could
live! But ALTO lose ALTO go out
into oblivion. Her soul was sick
within her. She cried out against her
God.
And Marthe!
She remembered Marthe at last and
the memory steadied her tortured
thoughts.
Marthe would be left behind. She
would lie on that bed in the garret
above the Rue jacques, alone and
lonely. with nobody to tell her stories.
sleepless nights of pain: and about
her stark want would spread its tat
tered cloak, as their little savings
dwindled and vanished
If for her it was the end, so surely
il would be for MArthe, at the last
Only Marthe would linger and lingef
and die long afterward. dreadfully.
That was q thing of which she mu st
think. How Marthe might be saved
self at high noon when tho road had
seemed clear and safe.
Yet-how could she thfnkf What
attention could she give to anything,
with the weight of her own fate
heavy on her thoughts?
She went back to tho room, and
Marthe asked her anxiousfy for the
doctors verdict
1T IL nothing" she said Nothing.
Only that am q little run doMn-the
he.t-and everything. He win give
It reminded her that Marths must
not know, and that she must see La
pierre and warn him against divulg-
ing it.