San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-11-08

III WIG tOiSos INV
her own pain of fear. Pain I'M
derstood pain. She was not afraid
of this figure-it suffered, and
had been treated unkindly. She
laid her hand on the squared shaft
of the cross.
''They hurt you," she said, "they
killed you. But they sha'n't kill
me! / wouldn't have hurt you like
that"
Looking up at the dropping,
weather-marred face of the Christ,
she laid her other hand on the
pierced feet of the figure.
There was loud, clashing rus
tie of wings. A white pigeon,
strayed perhaps from some dove
cote in the town, broke from the
foliage behind the Calvary; flut-
tered moment in the air and then
beat upward.
The girl turned her face up
quickly. If it had been a seraph,
with eagle-feathered pinions of
rose and azure, she would have
been delighted rather than alarmed.
She was not afraid of any animal,
angel, or devil, though the last two
she knew only by report.
But as the commotion of the
doves wings faded dead twig,
trodden by some approaching per-
son, snapped sharply.
Friend or enemy? The girl
turned to face the sound, stood in
the shadow of the Calvary, ready
for instant flight.
The faery gold of the woodland
tapestries, seeming in a manner
self-luminous, for there was no
light under the dull sky, was en-
belished with the jet and ruby of
berry clusters. Twigs bearing
leaves that might have been dipped
in blood made a thin, sanguine
mist behind the Calvary, whose
shaft was scanned with emerald
moss. In the gloom of gold and
the red shadow of the beautiful,
bloody LEAKAGE Sidonia waited.
Autupnal leaves chung to her
flight;loosened hair. She was
pale; vital-yet still as deer at
gaze; in some fashion enigmatic .
ass the fair yet sombre mystery |
that encompassed her. A plump, |
gray squirrel ran across the wood |
path, ignoring the girl, and darted |
up the shaft of the Calvary, cling
ing there.
A young man, naked to the
waist, the hollow contours of his
face softened by the down of a
blond, budding beard; the rather
womanish, sensuous lips tightly |
compressed, his deep-set blue eyes,
strange flames of fire, his starved |
ribs flecked with blood-marks, a
thorn branch in his hand-this was
what the woodpath yielded to the
sight of Sidonia and of the gray |
squirrel.
The man advanced slowly. He
lifted his head, looking up at the
wooden Christ. His lips moved;
his rsvaged face was like the face
of a person in Paradise, who is
depicted clothed in embroidered
robes and standing upon a sward
besprent with flowers, gazing up
ward at the Blessed Trinity seated
upon three thrones.
With little movement-a flirt
Of the fine, bushy tail that was like
a quick shrug-the squirrel ran
head first down the shaft Of the
cross and vanished in the crisp,
red-golden underbrush. The mans
gaze, caught by the flicker of re-
treat, discovered the motionless
young girl.
"Oh-hw
1t was an indrawing rather than
an outletting of breath. The
mans mouth remained open. He
dropped the thorn branch. He
drew back. Then made the sign
of the cross in the air. Sidonia
remained as she was, staring with
great eyes like a doe.
'1n the name of the Trinity!
Depart from me"
Not a leaf loosened. Nothing
moved. Sidonia stood her ground.
The young man fell to his knees
in the wood path. He beat his
breast with his fists. His face was
upturned, straining toward the
cruelty