The Coolidge examiner., 1933-06-16
Bells and Bells
By ELSIE YOUNGHANS
g. by Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service


day was breaking and a ray of
light shOne dimly on her small
white face. Her eyelids fluttered,
but were still too weary to lift
their heavy fringe of lashes. She
pulled the cover closer around her
shoulders. Coldl Cold! Really she
must ask Katja to unpack Aunt An
ma Karlova's coverlet. That funny
cover of lace and fur and silk that
Aunt Karlova had spent an entire
year in embroidering.
Winter! 1t must be winter! For
suddenly sleighbells were ringing
in the streets. Strangely muffled
and far away they sounded. Per-
haps a heavy snow had fallen dur
ing the night. Bells! Bells! Bells !!
An incessant ringing of them E.
an unending procession of them.
Would they never stop! Where
were they all going? All! But of
course Strange that she shouldn't
have remembered. Suddenly it was
clear as crystal. How could she
have forgotten! Her wedding day {!
This was her wedding dayl The
jingling droshkas were bringing
the wedding guests. From distant
provinces, from the suburbs, from
Moscow itself, were coming uncles
and aunts and Victor's as
well as her own; schoolmateS,
friends, officers from Victor's regi
ment. officials from the court and
their families. Why. there must be
hundreds of them. thousands of
them, there were so many bells
And now, as suddenly as they
had started. the bells stopped. The
guests, then. were all assembled
all waiting. And Victor, her ador-
able Victor. he too, would be wait
ing! How splendid he would look
in his uniform of the Imperial
guard. all white and gold, with the
flashing order of st. Stanislaus up
on his breast. All. but he was won
derful Swiftly, swiftly, her
thoughts flew back to the day she
had met him. 1t was at the ball of
the Dolgoruky palace; she was
making her first formal appearance
in society. Victor had asked her
to lead the procession with him,
They had passed through an arch
of flags, and instead of returning
to the ballroom, he had carried her
off to the gardens. Under the will
low by the fountain, he had kissed
her, and told her she was the most
divine lovely thing God had Gre
ated. And now here at last, she
and Victor were to be married
never. so Victor had sworn, would
he allow her to part from him.
But suddenly, more guests
seemed to be arriving-there were
the sleigh-bells again. The wedding
banquet must be already spread in
the great hall. But she. Alexandria
Sophia, the bride. she was not
there. Where was she? Oh, where
was Katja? Why didn't Katja bring
the wedding dress, that simmer
ing thing that had been sent from
Paris? Where was the veil with
headdress of pearls that had been
worn by her mother, and her grand
mother, and by countless Orlofski
brides before them? Why this
strange sense of impending doom
in Alexandria Sophia's hearth Why
this pain, this anguished fOrebOd-
ing-this heavy, heavy weight!
Sleighbells! Sleighbellsl Would
they never stop? Was all of Mos
COW coming to her wedding? And
she. the bride, not ready-not
ready! All! They were calling her
it seemed she was hiding some
where. They were coming for her.
some one was pounding at the door,
shaking it. Dear Godl Some one
was breaking in. Why, she had
been asleep. fast asleep! Her eyes
were still daZed. her mind vague.
Some one stood on the threshold
Katja? good old Katja with the
wedding dress? But, no. of course
it wasn't Katja it couldn't
be Katja. The little princess was
wideawake at last rush
ing with a shudder into the com.
plete awareness. A slovenly wom-
an in a faded wrapper stood be
fore her. She was holding out a
thick white cup and talking: "See,
| dearie, it's coffee I'm after bring
ing up to ye. | feared as ye'd over
sleep this morning. it was so late
you got in last night, poor lamb,
poor little lamb"
All Awake! How terrible to be
awakel To realize the truth To
know that she was only Sophie Or
loft, apprentice at dressmaking
establishment. that she lived in a
hall room in Mrs. Murphy's board
ing house on Lenox avenue, that
she had oversight and would be
late to her job. And bitterest of
all. to remember that she is no
longer young, no longer beautiful,
that no one in all the world really
cares what happens to her.