Evening star., 1927-10-31

its attempt. 1t was stupid, but there
it was-real, oppressive, terrible.
Ignatuis often spoke to other people,
of course. But even after a day of
much talking, it seemed to him that
he had remained silent, for he had
never mentioned that of which he
wished most to speak. He brooded
over it, and could mention it to no one
who could answer him: Why did Vera
kill herself?
1t seemed that there could be an
answer to this question, although Ig-
| naCius knew perfectly we'll that there
| was none. He would picture the night
that, with his wife, he stood before
Vera's bed and begged her to tell them
what troubled her. He imagined her
| speaking, and tried to divine what she
might have said. Sometimes he imag-
| ined that Vera tried to speak, and
something withheld her story.
Once, after many weeks, he went to
| his wife and told her he was going to
talk about Vera. He told how he had
forbidden her to go to the city, and
how his wife had begged her to re.
| main. He would not beg her; he would
not humble himself, as his wife had
done, by weeping and carrying on.
Not he! Vera did not love them; that
was it. She needed them not And
her death-that showed she had no
love in her. 1t made him feel ashamed,
that death. He said his daughter was
accursed in her grave. His wife lost
consciousness. When she came to her
eyes did not reveal whether she had
heard or remembered hearing what
her husband had said.
That night Ignatius went alone to
6911phtpr'S nd n
long time lay across her white bed. At
last his long love for Vera
broke forth, and he spoke to the
empty pillow as he should have
spoken on that night when, with his
wife by his side, he had harshly COM
manded the girl to tell him. Now he
fancied SO great was his emotion, that
she would speak.
''Tell me!' he moaned, and again
in broken whisper, "Tell mev But
he was answered only by silence.
The next day he sought Vera's grave
in the cemetery. 1t was his first visit
there. His beard was now as white
as If hard frost had hit it. And the
graveyard, too, was filled with the
silence of the dead who cannot speak
The silence filled the town. 1t came
from and ended in those gray eyes of
his paralyzed wife.
That Vera should be lying but a lit
tie way under the soil confused Igna.
thus. Here was his daughter close
by. 1t was hard to realize that she
was gone and never would be again.
| 1t seemed that if only he could think
of the right word he might speak it,
| and Vera. under ground though she
was, would answer. He took off his
hat and whispered, "Vera!" He re-
peated 1t loudly. He~fancied from far
beneath that there came an incoher.
ent answer. He pushed back the hair
from his ear and put it to the soil.
Vera" he said, "tell mew And into
his ear, to his great terror, there
poured only a great and inexhaustible
silence
The air itself vibrated with a heavy
silence. This silence would choke him.
He groaned under it's buffetings, as
though in a hurricane. In the confu-
sion of his thoughts he lost his way.
The silence pursued him, it seemed.
He fled and ran across the graves,
tearing hands and clothes on the
metallic wreaths.
Like the madman he was, Ignatius
sought only to escape the oppressive
silence which pursued him. He ran
through the streets. At last he
icaSheu Ills Hoiitc, anu He went INTO
his wife's chamber, where he fell on
his knees, humble at last.
Mother" he moaned, "have pity
on me or I shall go mad" He beat
his head on the table, and then looked
up, as though he expected a miracle
to happen. "My lover he said.
He drew his whole body toward his
wife. And then he met the silent gaze
Of her gray eyes. There was no emo
ton in them, no compassion and no
anger. If his wife had forgiven him.
her eyes did not show it. They were
dumb. They were silent. Through
out the whole dark and deserted house
there was OnIv al 100