Mountain Home Republican. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1915-1946, 1924-08-01
Chapter III


The two young men adopted charac-
teristic attitudes when confronted
with the slight misadventure of a
burst tire and a delay Of half an
hour. Christopher Bent deliberately
filed and lit a pipe, and, seating him.
self on the top of a low, gray stone
wall, gave himself up to the joy of a
wonderful view and the pleasure of
unusual surroundings. His compan-
ion, Gerald Dombey, stood peevishly
in the middle of the road, with his
hands in his pockets, cursing the flint
strewn road, the rottenness of all
motor tires, and the evil chance which
led to this mishap In the last lap of
their journey.
"Well be on the road again in
twenty minutes, your lordship," the
chauffeur promised, as he paused for
moment to wipe the perspiration
from his forehead.
His master nodded with some signs
of returning equanimity.
Don't distress yourself, john" he
said. There's no zeal hurry so long
as we get into Monte Carlo before
dark. Come on, Christopher" he
added, turning to his companion. sect
off that wall and let us explore"
The two young men strolled off to-
gether. Gerald paused to point to
the little, dlscolored house of Jean
Sargot.
"Are they real people who live in
these quaint cottages?" he speculated.
"That place, for instance, looks like
toy farm, with its patch of violets,
its tiny vineyard, its belt of plowed
land and this little grove of expresses.
1t is just as though some child had
taken them all from his play box and
laid them out there"
Christopher withdrew the pipe from
his mouth for a moment. He was
looking at the opening In the little
grove of expresses.
"And there" he murmured, must
be the child to whom they all belong.
/ think you are right, Gerald. There
is something unreal about the place.
Gerald, too, was suddenly conscious
Of the girl who stood clutching the
top of the wooden gate, her face
turned a little away from them, abb
sorbed In the contemplation of that
distant spot where the road vanished
in faint haze of blue mist.
"We will talk to her" he declared.
@'You shall practice your French upon
this little rustic, Chris. She prob
ably won't be able to understand a
word you say"
At the sound of their voices MYRTLE
turned her head, and, at the things
which they saw In her face, there
was no longer any thought of frivol-
Gus conversation on the part Of the
two young men. They stood for a
moment indeed, speeches., Chris
topher spellbound, Gerald, of quicker
sensibility, carried for a moment in
to the world from which she seemed
to have fallen. Then his old habits
asserted themselves. She was as
beautiful as an angel, but her feet
were on the ground, and she was OBJ
viously in distress.
Are you alive, mademoiselleP he
asked, raising his cap.
"But certainly, monsieur" she an
swered grayely. Il am alive but very
unhappy"
You can tell us, perhaps, the way
to CannesT' Christopher inquired.
She pointed to where the thin rib
bon of road in the distance seemed to
melt into the bosom of the clouds.
Cannes is over there, monsieur
she said, "and there is no other road
save this one"
"You go there often, perhapsT'
Christopher yentured.
81 have never been there, monsieur"
she answered, with her eyes fixed
upon Gerald might after night,
when my work is done, I come here
and I watch the road just where 1t
fades away. but / have never Travelled