Evening star., 1925-12-13

| Joan" said Charles, do you know
why have sent for you?"
| II do, sire"
! Something of a sardonic smile
| played around the seigneur's mouth.
The butterfly came too quietly to the
| net.
We are but gloomy folk here. rough
| soldiers and few women. 1t has been
in my mind" Here he saw the bish-
| ops averted head. and scowled. What
had been in his mind he forgot. He
| said: II would have you come willing
| ly. Or not at all.
A, that she tilted her head and
| looked at him. you know I will
| come" she said. II can do nothing
else. but / do not come willingly, my
lord. You are asking too much"
| The bishop turned his head hope.
fully.
"Why?"
| You are a hard man, my lord"
II she meant to anger him, she
failed. They were not soft days. A
| man hid such tenderness as he had
under grimness.
| Il am a fighting man. have no
gentle ways" Then a belated mem.
| ory came TO him. II give no tender
ness and ask none. But such kind
ness as you have, lavish on the Child
|
With a mention of CIotide's name
came vision: Instead uf this splen-
| did peasant Wench he seemed to see
the graceful and dropping figure Of
the woman he had put away because
she had not borne him son. He
closed his eyes, and the girl. taking 1t
tor dismissal, went awav
| Il shall not stay, my lord" said the
bishop. The thing Is dissertation.
L nc = 4
II Is Christmas and the Truce of God
and yet you do this evil thing"
| So the bishop went. And with him,
now that Clotilde had fed, went all
that was good and open to the sun
from the gray castle of Charles the
Fair.
| A T evening Joan came again. still
afoot. but now clad In her best.
| She shiyered as the gates closed be.
| hind her
Charles motioned her to a seat
beside him. not on his right hand, but
on his left. and there he let her sit
| without speech. But his mind was
working busily. He would have a son
and the King would legi,imize him.
| Then let Philip go hang. These lands
| OF his as far as the eye could reach
and as far again would never go to
| him.
| The minstrels sang OF war, and OF
his own great deeds, but there was
| 40 one of them with so beautiful a
voice as that OF the fool, who could
| sing only OF peace. Their songs
'oothed his hurt pride. II the bishop
| had not turned sour and gone, he
| would have heard what they sang.
| lie might have understood. too, the
raving of his warrior soul for a war.
rior son. for one to hold what ne had
gathered at such cost. Back always
% this burning hope of his.
| Joan sat on his left hand and went
| hot and cold, hot with shame and
| cold with fear. so now, his own
glory as a warrior commencing to
lall on him, Charles would have
| more tribute. this time as lord OF
| peace. He would celebrate this day
| of days. and at the same time throw
4 sop to Providence. He would re
| lease the Jew.
He remembered Clotilde then She
| should see him do this noble thing.
Since her mother had gone she had
| hrunk from him. Now let her see
how magnificent he could be-
| Being not displeased with himself
ne turned at last toward Joan and
put a hand over hers. You see" he
| said, II am not so hard a man. BY
| This Christian act shall l celebrate
your arrival"
| But the Jew did not come The
| singers learned the truth, and sang
| with Watchful eyes. The seigneur' s
| anger was known TO be mighty, and
| % strike close at hand. CULLEN, the
| iailer. had been waiting for the sum
mons.
News had come to him late in the
afternoon that had made him indif-
| ferent to his fate The girl Joan,
| whom he loved, had come up the hill
at the overlord's summons. So, In
| stead of raising an alarm, CULLEN
had waited su.lenly. Death. which
yesterday he would have blenched to
behold, now beckoned him. When
he was brought in he asked no mercy.
HE is gone. my lord" said CULLEN.
He did not glance at the girl.
Gone, earth clod? How now?
Perhaps you, too, wished to give a
hostage to fortune, to forestall me In
mercy?"
He turned to the girl beside him.
You see.' he said, ito what
lengths this spirit of the holy day
extends itself. Our friend here
Then he saw her face and knew the
truth.
Why, then" he said to the jailer.
| SuCn mercy SHoulu IidNc ilS iC-
ward" He turned to Joan. What
say you? Shall ] station him at your
door, sweet lady, as guard OF
honor?'
Things went merrily after that. for
CULLEN drew a knife and made, not
for the seigneur. but for Joan. The
ttroubadours feared to stop singing
without a signal. so they sang through
white lips. CULLEN. finally unhand
81 - xurns t<,r}
for death.
"1t is the time Of the Truce OF
God" said the seigneur softly, and
knowing that death would be boon
sent him off unburt.
ITHE village. which had eaten full
slept early. Down the hill at
o'clock came half dozen men at arms
on horseback and clattered through
the streets. Word went about quickly
THE child CIotilde Is gone" the,
cried through the streets. up ane
arm"
Joan sat alone IN the great hall
For the seigneur was gone riding likt
a madman. He had but one thought
The Jew had stolen the child; there
fore. to find the Jew.
In the blackest of the night he
found him. sitting by the road. BEN
over his e-s. T1e eyes he raised t.
Charles were haggard and weary
Charles reined his horse back on his
launches, his men at arms behinC
him.
What have you done with th<
child?"
1.-The child?"
"Out with it," cried Charles ant
flung himself from his horse. If the
Jew were haggard, Charles was more
so, hard bitten of terror pallid to the