Evening star., 1925-09-20
YOURS TRULY, | R; l]!z. PARIS


as the old man raised one puzzled eye
brow: 'Dianer' he explained hastily
| Goureau shook his head.
when Diane go-she will moi
return
| But won't she come back again?'
"She come every night, m'sieu'."
| CTONE'S return the following nigh,
~ was inevitable. He took care
/ however, that the other two
musketeers of the dollar knew nothing
, of his visit.
Pere Goureau on his round of the
tables found several hundred francs
| slipped into his protesting palm.
| That's all right. l want to hear
| something about this Diane of yours
How long has she been coming here?'
MANY year. But year so different
m sieu' She as beautiful--''
'She is beautiful now"
Goureau's eyebrow shot up.
Beauty like the broken walls at
Rheims, m 'sieu'. Only bones The
fesh-the color-gone. The firs b'Irned
out. Ten-twelve ye;s~. ago, when
Diane dance
Stone looked across ut the table she
had occupied. 1t seemed to be waiting
for her.
after a moment.
"One of many who love- her
m'sieu." Goureau supplied unhesitat-
ing. But he love her wild'-comme
un chien.-a dog what tear to piece.
And Diane-she love a poet"
Hin" unused Martin Stone,
strange combination
Nothing is strange-in Mon'mart'e e.
Diane, she want la tendresse-another
woman want a man should be one
brute. How can a boy know? NV
BOY, he do not know. One night in
my garden-' His voice halted
wistfully-' flower grow in my garden
then, m'sieu'."
"Yes-one night" prompted
Stone as the man made no attempt
co go on.
What would you. m'sieu'? She
come alone, Diane, to wait for her
poet. 1t is Spring under the moon.
and the flower, they are sweet as
heaven. My boy he go into the gar
den. He take Diane. who he want
to him. She fight-that madden him.
He is drunk-perhaps a little with
wine-but more with the moon and
the flower and Diane. He lose his
head and
'Yes-yes?"
And then her poet come, She cali
him quick, a terrible cry. But my
boy. he mad now-not man no more
wild animal. The poet rum to her
He seize the arm of my boy-and mex
thing that poet see is a gun. In one
minute there is blood on the flower
But it is not the poet. 1t is my boys
And what did you do?'
Nothing, m'sieu'. The poet not
think to kill. He want only get the
gun from my boy.
Soon after-come' the war. 'sieu'
That poet, he go. He never return
KILLED in combat, after all"'
We not know, m'sieu', what be.
come of him"
and she, Diane, has been coming
here ever since?"
"She come alone-to sit where they
always sit-together.'
-
EVERY night after that found Stone
climbing the hill to lie Coin. Oc.
casionally with his confreres of Chi
cago and Philadelphia, but more fire.
quently he came alone.
Where does she live?" he asked of
Goureau on the fifth visit. as the girl
raised her glass in that ghostky toast
"M'sieu,' the F'renchman's eye.
brow leveled swiftly. lin Mon'mart e
sometime we live somewhere-some-
time nowhere"
Has she any money!
II cannot tell. l nevaire ask Diane
pay for her dinner"
But now does she earn a living?'
''She not live, m sieu'. Diane-drif'
like a small boat waiting to be wash
on some shore"
Take me over" Stone astonished
himself one night by dema nding of
Pere Goureau. and as the man drew
back, he added the urge of a 500-franc
note. Il want to talk to her."
Goureau led the way, almost apollo
getic as he presented the American.
Diane nodded, scarcely looking in
Stones direction.
May 1 sit down, mademoiselle?'
She nodded again.
He drew out the empty chair.
Instantly her expression changed.
She was on her feet. Both hands
clenched the table edge. Her eyes
gIared. A tiger cat, ready to spring