Evening star., 1925-06-02
Continued from Yesterdays Starr

There wasn't anything new in that.
He was always thinking about him,
but in terms of a glacial, relentless
passion. He wore his memory like q
hair-shirt that exasperated him to
fresh energy. But tonight he thought
OF him as himself-as the little boy he
had known. He wondered what he had
looked like before the end. He must
have had a small, sunken white face
and round, staring eyes. He must
have looked at his captors and tyrants
with just that expression of bewilder-
ment and grief-not angry, but with
the tragic resignation of childhood.
And his captors had ratified their sa-
eers and thought, "Starve and be
damned to you. little French swine"
NJ. Leforges walked up and down,
up and down. He seemed to himself
utterly alone on phantom ship
streaming to an unknown destination.
A wonderful day-the elimination of
all his ambition. But his heart was
tire6-dead tired.
What had become of her-of that
little girl? How she had stared at him
from her dim corner He had seen her
once since then-standing on the
quay, blown about by the wind and
the rain like a stray wisp OF unre-
garded life-so utterly forlorn. He
had nearly spoken to her. But not
quite.
OF course. she hadn't understood a
word. 1t wasn't likely. He had talked
fast and angrily. Not a clever child,
either - half -witted, probably, with
those round, unfiinching eye@ that
hadn't seemed to see him at ALL And
vet there had been a look of rather
awful understanding. Well, what did
1t matter? He had spoken the truth.
--I,.
ed looking you couldn't tell. Eight or
ten, perhaps. She and Robert might
have played together. They might have
played the same games with the same
toys. Children did-all over the world.
There was a sort of understanding
between children. Later on some
thing happened TO them.
He stood still. staring down at the
black, rolling water. He was more
than tired. He was unhappy. He knew
now that he was a desperately un-
happy man. 1t seemed to him that his
heart lay like an aching stone in his
breast. Other people lost their chill
dren. They grew resigned. Their
memories were golden and lovely. His
had turned to poison. They were slow.
~ killing him.
Oh. Robert-Iittle Robert
Bitter tears came into his eyes. He
turned away, ashamed, and walked on.
He had passed beyond the shelter of
the upper deck and was battling
against the full force of the wind
when he saw her
At first he didn't believe. It was a
shadow hallucination-a phantom
among the phantoms of his brain,
But his breath had stopped. Then he
knew-knew with a horror of GER
tainty that choked the cry in his
throat. He was like a man in a night
mare. 1t seemed that whole minutes
elapsed before he began to run. And
then his feet were leaden. They stun
bled and slipped. The wind pushed
him back with invisible hands. 1t
caught his voice and flung it behind
him. All the time he could see her.
She was climbing slowly, painfully.
She might have been trying to climb
over stile. There was something so
simple and innocent about her move
ments. Only the sea and the wind and
the tossing ship were sinister. Now
she was standing almost upright
like a small, fantastic figurehead
against the flying darkness. She
seemed to be looking intently at some
thing far beneath her. Her glasses
dropped off-he saw them fall-then
her little hands went up, covering her
eyes.
He never knew whether she heard
him shout. He reached her He
caught the short, dripping skirt. He
dragged her back, and she fell against
him. A ships lantern threw its
ghostly light into their two faces as
they stared aghast at one another.
For that moment they were not man
and child, but two equals. considering
the whole grief and pitifulness of ex-
istence.
Her hands were pressed against his
chest. She said, simply, with an odd
dignity. "Please-let me go"
But he held her closer to him. He
felt as though he were fighting her.
He spoke in German-hardly know
ing that he did so.
Poor little girl-armes kleines
.Madchsn-"
Her arms dropped. Something
tSsensed to break in her. He-could al