OCR Text |
Show thnn we realized. By the way, can you tell us whose chateau that is?" The driver laughed with hearty relish. "It's plain you're strangers or you'd know it belongs to my master, the Baron de Varvilie. But as he spends most of his time in Paris we don't see much of him here." They drove on in a brooding' silence sil-ence and Marguerite felt a sudden heavy access of fatigue. It was as if a chill, evil wind had biown upon up-on them. The halcyon days of May and June slid by and the incident was never mentioned again. Marguerite felt herself bloom anew, knew a renascence of her carefree youth. Armand s devotion was lijte a charm that she kept close to her breast. His every word, every breath told her of it, sang the tune in her ears. There had been no word from the outride world until Nichette the little seamstress, had written of her coming marriage to Gustave. Promptly, Marguerite had written worth, to clear up. At her request, de Varvilie had given her a draft for the amount. Then he had said, bitterly. "No one has to tell me you've found a playmate for this summer's holiday in the country, It'a in your face. But my one consolation is that I'm well rid of such a fool." He had added, "This money Is my last act of consideration. If we ever meet again, it will be on a different baie I never make the 'same mistake twice." And Armand, dear Armand, what a baby he was believing that they could live on his income of 7000 francs a year. She had spent more than that a month on dresses and perfumes. Half of de Varville's money she had decided to keep for herself ho that there would be enough to livii on this summer. But shrugging all of it off her shoulders, Marguerite had started off for Bougeval with Armand, her heart high, her spirits soaring to the heavenly blue of the sky. With sunlight breaking into her bedroom on her first morning in across the sky as a little later, aha and Armand strolled arm in arm up the winding road of the hill. "Tired?" he asked. She rippled to the faint note of constraint in his voice. "We might go to the top of the hill." His shoulders jerked convulsively. "And look at the Baron's chateau?" She stopped. Lightly, tenderly, her fingers trailed over his face. "Are you going to spoil a night like this after a day like this by being jealous?" jeal-ous?" His face was drawn and for a moment its young buoyance waa blotted out. "Of course not. Only I always know he's there." He groaned a little. "Marguerite, I can't bear our summer to end." "Nor I." He grasped heri hands. "Listen, I've written to my father and asked him to turn my money over to me. I'm not sure that he will but I'm going up to Paris tomorrow to sea the lawyer who made my grandfather's grand-father's will." She threw back her head and laughed. "Do you know what I ' r . .j ...- , '" " vr, " '' " , " ' i ' 1 -it' , , - v s , - ' ' b-" ' ,' - v 'ft 4 I : A. . i.:" " ' ' ... '. -. , Sv. 't : . V ' ' ... : t v ' ' ' , ' J k -Wrt' , . . . I , ' . . v . . j ( . ' . ' How wonderful to a t , ! r , V ' ,j( know a simple s - r i., ' i happiness such as E ' ' ' Nachette's, thought " - ' ' Marguerite L ilt?& . 'jl .., li - j Resijmk: In 1S-16, lovch Marguerite Mar-guerite Gauticr is the toavt of ait Paris. At the theatre one night she meets young Armand Duval, mistaking him Jor the rich Baron de Varvilie, tthe is deeply moved when Armand tells her that he has long loved her from afar. Later however, when the real Baron crimes to her box, Armand leaves, believing her to be v-hull ij mercenary, tihe goes off vnth the Baron and their love if fair of &cvcn months standing when .she again meets Armand at an auction. On impulse, she invites him to her birthday party. On the festive evening, she tells him to return vmcn the guests have gone. But at midnight, just vihen she is awaiting him, the Baron returns unexpectedly. Chapter Two "So you didn't go to Russia, after all," Marguerito said flatly. "I had an idea you wouldn't." De Varvilie buried his hands in his pockets, walked to her side and kissed her coolly on the forehead. 'No "You may flatter yourself I can't do without you. After driving driv-ing motit of the day I turned around and drove back through the night." Then he said, sharply, "Were you expecting someone?" She puled and replied, "Of course. You. I've learned never to believe any man when he says he's leaving leav-ing town." The room seemed suffocating. As his arms came around her, she longed to fling him off. yet was still. His voice murmured in her car and she wanted to scream it down, yet she was silent. Then, like the rolling roll-ing of the tumbrils she heard carriage car-riage wheels. That would be Armand. Ar-mand. He could not fail to oeu de Varville's brougham. Woodenly, she accepted the Baron's kiss. The sound of the carriage wheels retreated re-treated and died. Three days and nights of restless despair, of spectral loneliness passed by. From Prudence, her dressmaker, dress-maker, she learned that Armand had gone to the little suburb of Marignon to visit his father and obtain ob-tain money and permission to travel. Finally, on the third afternoon after-noon when the lashing torment of her heartache would not cease, she went to his rooms. "Come in," he called indifferently to her light tap. Standing in the doorway, she looked at him, at the littered evidences evi-dences of his departure. "So you are really going away." His mouth was a white line of bitterness. "What did you expect? I saw the Baron's carriage." "You were jealous." "Of course." Two great drops of crystal rolled from her eyes. Then suddenly she was in his arms and his lips were on her hair, her eyes, her throat. "Marguerite," he cried, "forget Everything except that we're young and in love." A hammering silence. He forced her around to face him. "Give up the Baron." "What!" He repeated, Inexorably, "I want you to give up the Baron. I don't want you to ever see him again." Tenderly, she took his face between be-tween her palms. "One can't change one's entire life and future on one moment of love." She swayed a 3ittle. "And yet, that's what you make me want to close my eyes and do." He held her close. "Then do it, Marguerite, do it! Close your eyes and let me manage your life, for the present, anyhow." She hung in his arms, limp. Then slowly, the meaning, the full import im-port of his words seeped through. To be a girl again, to laugh, to play, to be free. Her arms stole around his neck. "I will, oh, I will." A gasping breath. "But remember it's not the present one has to worry about. It's the future and the past." He picked her up and held her like a child. "We'll forget the past," he asserted triumphantly, "and let the future take care of itself. All that matters is that we love each other ioio." But as Marguerite discovered, things were not quite so simple as Armand believed. There was the matter of her debts 10,000 francs back, insisting that the wedding take place at Bowgeval. And so one day, when the blue sky was cloudless, it came to pass. Under the altar with its burning candles, stood the priest, intoning the Latin marriage service. Then it was over and there was laughter and tears as they all rose and surrounded sur-rounded the bride. Marguerite walked away. Something Some-thing of all this had moved her more than she cared to admit. How wonderful, to know a simple happiness happi-ness such as Nichette's. Then slowly, her heart expanded. After all, why not? Surely, in Paris, there must be other two-room fiats, five steep flights up. There, under the sky and the stars, would be Heaven itself, were Armand there. The altar and decorations had been dismantled and every one had left. Prudence was at the door. Marguerite had just finished directing direct-ing her to sell all her thing;s her jewels, her horses, her furniture and thus wipe out the past forever. "You really want me to dispose of everything?" Prudence asked incredulously, in-credulously, for the fifth time. "As quickly as possible." "Well," Prudence returne d heavily, "I suppose you think that you're through with the past." "Yes." The past was gone for she was herself no longer, at least, not the person Prudence knew. Not the same person she had been a year ago or three months ago or even yesterday, "I don't say all this isn't very pretty," Prudence said in a plaintive voice, "but I've found that the only steady thing in this world is money. Well, let me know if you change your mind." How lovely, the violet evening. There, the first star was twinkling at her. "I'll not change It." The moon was sailing radiantly asked Prudence to do for me today? Sell everything and pay everything so I can take a flat like Nichette's with what I have left." He was crushing her breath from her. "You're giving up everything for me?" "Everything on earth, Long-face. Everything." "Marguerite," Armand said with shattering suddenness, "I want you to marry me." "What!" "I married you today. Every word ' the Priest said was meant for us and in my heart I made all the vows to you." "And I to you!" Then, frantically, she closed his mouth with her palm. "Oh, no, no. It's not fitting. Do not talk of it. Let me love you, let me live for you. But don't let me ask more of Heaven than that. God might get angry." In a sort of roseate daze, she went about her small, self-imposed tasks the next morning. Armand had left for Paris at dawn. She was in the garden, tending the bees when a tall; elderly stranger passed through the gates. She moved towards to-wards him easily. "Yes Monsieur, did you want to see someone?" The man bowed stiffly. "I was told at the Inn in the village that I'd very likely find my son here." She blanched. "Your flon?" "Armand Duval, Madame. I am his father." 1936 Loew'fl Incorporated (This sudden descent of the elder Duval fills Marguerite urtth consternation. It can mean but one thing, that he vAshes to separate her from Armand, Will he succeed or can their love surmount all obstacles f Don't miss the concluding installment in-stallment in the next issue). , the little rustic chateau, she suddenly sud-denly awoke. Abnormally, her senses would not focus. She had the queer conviction that time had been set back. Within just such white plastered walls she had spent her childhood. Beside just such a huge four poster, she had said her prayers. As Nanine opened the door, she drew in a deep breath. I'm so hungry. Doesn't the air smell delicious? de-licious? And how quiet it is. What a heavenly room." Tripping down the steps a little later, she saw Armand waiting in the little drawing room. He hugged her boyishly. "It's not very beautiful." She made a gesture that embraced em-braced both him and the place. "I don't like rooms that are too beautiful beauti-ful I like this. Now we must see what's outside." Their tour of inspection took them almost the entire day. Strolling Stroll-ing through the meadows and woods, tiny, invisible bonds, born of laughter and sMence, sprang into being. There had been no life before be-fore this. There was nothing beyond. be-yond. At twilight, they stood on top of a hill', admiring the breath-taking vieW. Off in the distance they could see the twin towers of a castle, reaching up into the sky. "What a fine sight," Marguerite said. "I remember when I used to think how wonderful it would be to see inside a chateau like that." She swayed a little. Their long, rambling walk had tired her. She clutched at her breast, coughing. Armand caught her In time. "Darling, you're tired." Alarmed, he hailed a liveried servant driving past in a small trap. As they clattered clat-tered along, he explained to the driver, "We walked much further |