The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1924-05-04
BY JOHN HUNTER
CHAPTER f-ONE DAY IN PARIS

i
am going to tell a story.
1t is said, quite often, that every
man has, within him, one story to tell.
With many men there are no others
Just the one. Perhaps it is that this
Is the one / have-the only one. At
any rate, while have told many others,
! have treasured this within my soul
and within my heart, for many years.
And i think this is the best story /
have ever told--and the one which has
HI 1t more of the things which every
story should possess-romance, truth,
love, tragedy-and lesson.
1t was in Paris that first met her
whom am going to call Elise.
was sitting outside the Cafe de la
Raix in the sunshine one afternoon,
when saw, crossing the Place de
IOpera with another man, an old school
ehum of mine, an Englishman, who had
lived in Paris for a great many years.
tie saw me as / recognized him, and
came right across to the table at which
sat. His companion l found to be
charming and distinguished looking
Old Frenchman, typical boulevarder,
and after the usual introductions they
seated themselves with me-
One may sit on that corner of the
Opera and watch all the world pass.
ny the lines of traffic, the broad bou
ieyards, with their trees, their sunshine
ana their shade. their gay little kiosks;
the crowded payements on which one
sees everybody, and yet notices only
tne women, those women who have
taught the women of every country how
70 carry their clothes. but still have
preserved for themselves some little
secrets undivulged.
may not be France, but it is Paris
Paris of the wide-stretched arms and
the song, Paris to whom one goes that
one may learn to laugh; Paris who can
teach the world the meaning of toars
nour went by before saw Elise.
1aping TINS hour the old boulevardier
entertained my friend and myself with
anecdotes concerning this or that celeb.
Thy VINO passed, anecdotes sometimes
8a~ sometimes triste, often truly
french, and tinged with that light fin.
Sereu irony which is altogether Gallo
As was all delightful, dawdling ON Tho
ease OF llfe's dream, with a man of OK.
Rrrlence at ones elbow to point ont
ne almost unnoticed ,ripples beneath
me surface of the current.
The horseman in the centre of tho
opera had whistled traffic direction
and the vehicles on the Boulevard To-
Sapucines had been pulled up. Drects
" opposite where we sat preot 49,,
aispana Suiza had slid to a silent stopdl
s1ll IN the waiting line, right against
the curb. "s"iNs'
The old boulevardier clanced to,,,o rdz
y and, for the first time. lost b;s NJ.
Of amused disinterest and became 7 an an
timely intrigued. se"'
tsSee," he said quietly. "She who sits
IN the big car! Is she not beautifully"
looked towards the Hispano Suiza.
Driving it was a smart chauffeur in
livery of gray with mauve facings. He
held the big, polished steering-wheeI in
Eloyed hands no bigger than a wom-
ans.
Behind him, at the back of the car.
sat Elise.
How may l tell you what she was
IKE to me in those few minutes DURING
which l first gazed at her across the
9ostling pavement of the Canucines?
Picture rose leaf of pink and white
laid softly on pile of costly furs, and
yeo see the cheeks of Elise as they
showed above the great cloak which
swathed her.
From beneath the little hat which
only woman could adequately describe,
her hair showed black-blue black. like
tne wing of raven. Her lips were
soft and full and rosy-warm.
Her eyes" whispered the old boule-
Warbler, lis there not a history in her
eyes?''
II looked at her eyes and forgot all
the other beauty of her.
They were wide and blue, dusky
nllght, and yet not with laughter; filled