The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1933-05-11
CHAPTER FORTY.FIvE


She let her fancy slip ahead
saw herself, as she used to do, in
the roles she dreamed Of rag
ged and lovely as Mignon, regal in
crimson velvet rs Tosca she'd
do Tosca soon, too
Before her dreaming eyes the
lights Of the Paris Grand Opera
blazed she saw the magnificent
white marble stairways, the gilt
tering crystal candelabra, heard the
thud Of the baton, saw the curtain
Yes, and Vienna, too the
opera there that she never saw. She
must sing there. The lovely, quaint
place, with its magnificent ap-
proach, the winged horses, the
Siegfried and Don Jus cande-
The taxi jerked to . stop. She
was home. With an over-generous
tip for the driver, she ran up the
stairs to Nahlman's apartment,
singing softly to herself stop
ped for a moment heard the
departing concierge whistling the
Carmen aria too. =.
She wished that Madame Nahl-
man had come home :. or that she
could have stayed to have supper
with her She went into the
kitchen to make chocolate, and find
something to eat. How cold and
barren European kitchens were :.
back home everything was handy.
You could dip into the ice box
and
The baby .. Lily Lou went cold
all over. What kind Of woman was
she? To forget him. To come
home, her head full Of herself and
her silly little triumph, and make
herself chocolate 49,.
In her room, the room with the
big bed, and the little one in it,
the Bonnie sat doing in her chair,
crocheted lace cap q little askew.
The room was warm and airless,
the night light burned very low.
The bubchen lay with his little
head turned from her, sleeping
quietly, his hair, light brown now,
and slightly curling, brushed back
to show the high forehead, cheek
bones family discernible in the
shadow.
Lily Lou stood very still, holding
the light.
The bonnie was speaking. cit is
not measles, the doctor said. Just
nothing. Heaven only knows why it
should have looked like measles.
The doctor himself, Madame, said
it was very like. But there is MOTH
ing to disturb one. You. see, he
sleeps, and it is time that you and
I, Madame, should sleep"
Lily Lou did not answer. She
stood motionless still, looking down
1t the sleeping child.
A torrent of tears flooded her
heart. She ought to fling herself on
her knees to thank God :.
but she could not move, could not
stop looking at him. Such = tiny
thing, to be so like Ken ;.
The very bones Of his baby chin.
Her eyes blurred, plotting out
the dim room, the sleeping child ..|
She was back in q little country
town in northern California. The
first pale morning light was COM
ing through the open windows Of
the crude hotel room. And he was
sleeping, the light on his fair head.
She sank to her knees, tried to
stihe the sobs that were having
their way with her, in the down Of
the baby's coverlet.
The Bonnie woke up. She said in
her French patois:
"But he is better, Madame. Did
I not tell you? You will frighten
him, le pauvre petit"
Eyes, yes-1 see"
And Lily Lou wept again.
He was quite young, very Eng
lish. He spoke in . high, affected
voice, twirled his fair, waxed NOUS
cache.
Madame Mailman became an.
other being. She primped, she
preened, adopted her grand opera
manner.
One night Lily Lou surprised