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Show H y$ Kjsjr. H ! (Translated from the French of J. H. Itosny.) H ! (Copyrighted.) H "You ask mo the name of the woman whom I H have most loved? Ah, well, many times since then B I have the trees turned green in the springtime and Hf in the autumn changed to a scarlet blaze. I was B a youth then, with all the unfettered liberty that Hi belongs to that priceless age. I was journeying B in a land of wonderful hills where the traditions of v bandits stil lingered. There were few dwelling B places there, these always situated in lonely places, by the side of the numerous little streams, and w often built of enormous boulders, Jield together by K a rude cement, or the trunks of young trees set in B a circle. Over all the mountain spread the awful H silence of the dark forest, and at each step, H man became less human and more wild, more M like the beasts he lives among. ,1 One evening, tired and hungry, I sought to find i some lonely tavern or farm house where I might Hi rest The twilight was fading in the dark H heavens, the forests and the hills grew purple H against a strangely copper sky. The evening Hj breezes rustled softly in the trees and the tinkling B brooks changed their note to a tone of sadness, H) mysterious and strangely menacing. Suddenly I H came upon a sort of Cyclopean habitation, a square H tower with loop-holes for windows, built of heavy H rock and with the air of having stood there for cen- H turies. A large dog came out growling o meet me, H then a large dark shadow appeared, whose eyes L, burned like live coals. H "What do you want?" demanded the man, B sharply. P I was well armed, wtih ten shots in my gun HF and a strong hunting-knife. I felt some distrust, H but no fear, and I answered promptly: r "I ask your hospitality." H "I will pay you the regular tavern price," I 11 added, knowing the money greed of the men of B that country. H "Very well," the form replied, "enter." V The door opmed. I found myself in a low, spa- H clous room, lighted by a bright pine fire, and by a P sort of rudimentary candle, shapeless and big as H a cathedral incense-candle. In the flickering light, H I perceived a young girl, standing motionless and H watching me keenly. K Her eyes were big and dark, the wonderful V eyes of Hiberia, her hair the dark locks of Prosper. H ine, and with her pure white skin and eager lips, H she bound within herself all the charm and magic H of the maidens who enchanted Africa and the B' East. For an instant, I stood stupefied, seeking Bj some limit to her wonderful beauty, then a de- H licious suffocation made my heart tremble, and a H keen thrill shot through me. As she walked, seek- H Fng the bread, the cold lamb and white wine for B . my supper, she mingled the euphony of her pure, H"' untrammeled movements with a wild gracefulness. B I ate my supper in joyous silence, feeling that all v the poetry of my long travels and of my unsullied B youth was there in that divine maiden. l & e & Hf When I went to bed, I frankly barricaded my H door, distrusting more a.. J more the ferocious H glances of my host, and slept fitfully until dawn. H: As the pale, grey light came slowly through the H loop hole, a joyous relief seized me, followed by H a singular regret to leave the savage roof that B sheltered the marvelous Iberian ghi. I jumped H! up quickly, plunged my face in the clear water in the sand-stone jug, and soon ran quickly down stairs, where I found the young girl alone. She II was standing on the threshold of the door, a glor- H ious rosy light behind her. That moment she en- HI tered my very soul, entered it forever. And in H my whole life, never have I been lifted up, nor my Hf heart so magnified as on that September morning when a maiden stood in the doorway, crowned by the dawn. I do not know what I stammered out. I only remember her reply: "My father has gone to a sale." A note of trouble sounded in her voice that astonished as-tonished me and led me to look at her more keenly. A wave of crimson dyed her cheeks, and leaving, left them deathly white. Suddenly she said: "You cannot be a liar. If you promise me to keep silence, you will do so, will you not?" "Whatever I promise you," I roplied humbly, "I would die rather than betray." She was silent, embarrassed, for she understood under-stood the toife of my voice. Then, after an instant, sne replied: "You must not go further on your way you must return from whence you came and you will take another road." "Why?" I cried. Her eyes dropped down and I understood; the man, her father, was waiting for me in some likely spot for ambush, where the traces of murder could be easily cleared away. She read my thought with the keenness of the primitive mind, saw the futility of denial, and tried to excuse her father. "He never would have thought of it," she said in a low tone. "He has always been honest and clean-handed, but the thought of losing this land, owned by our race for centuries, has filled his mind with dark thoughts "What?" I cried "Has he any debts?" "He owes thirty pistols," she answered slowly. The sum was a trifle, although I had scarcely more than double the amount with me then, in my wallet, but a large money order was waiting me in the city. "He owes them no longer!" I declared. "It is my wish that this land shall remain in your possession." pos-session." And taking twenty louis from my pocket, I laid them in a pile on the table. The girl looked ai me strangely out of her wonderful eys. "Do you do this to pay me for my warning?" she asked at length. "No," I murmured, "it is not to pay you." "Why, then?" she persisted. My heart failed me, and in an almost inaudible voice, I said: "Because it gives me pleasure to keep your land tor you." -" fc She smiled. A tender light filled her large I eyes and sounded in her voice, as she whispered: "I cannot give you anything in return. I am g promised, and in our mountains, girls who are j promised would die ratner than betray their be- trothed." "But I do not ask anything," I replied swiftly, "nothing but the pleasure of saving you pain." "Ah!" she said. For a moment she stood thoughtful, her eyes lowered, and I watched her breast rise and fall. Suddenly she came towards me with an air of I gentle emotion, ineffable humility and yet strong j resolve: "Would it please you if I should give you a kiss?" "For thanks?" I breathed. "No," she said quietly, -turning pale, "for love, but only one, and then you will go!" I could not answer, but my eyes spoke for me. Th?n she took my head between her two white I hands, and for an instant, her wonderful lips lay ' - close on mine in a deep, passionate kiss, full of love tinged with despair. "Good-by," she cried, and stepped away. I left her, and turning at the bend of the road, I saw that her eyes were full of tears. & & & I have never ceased to tlUnkof her and her memory lives so strongly within me that love can never bear a face other than hers. |