"A FRENCHMAN'S TALE."

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 271, 15 November 1930, Page 2 (Supplement)

"A FRENCHMAN'S TALE."

(By Dulc.v Bauman, v in4, Bunk Street, AVhangarei; age 15.) 'It. was going to be a stormy night. All the passengers of the great liner, Marvelle, with the exception of a short, lean man and myself, had voted the Aveather disagreeable, and had., gone below. But, as . the great, greyish Waves rolled against our boat with a swishing monotonous rhythm, I liked it more. Before me stretched a huge expanse of ocean with not a glimpse of land, behind me and on each side, was but the same unvaried scene; and the greyness of it, the doleful atmosphere, the dull monotony, made me feel strangely ruminative. - . '■Cigarette, sir?" said my companion endeavouring to make friends. "Thanks," I said, only half hearing him. -"Like a match?" We puffed away, in silence. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, my friend broke out. "Mind listening to a story ?" "A-oh, no." I answered, not caring much, as the darkness'had deepened, and we were the only two on. deck. It seemed more sociable though, so I didn't make any demur at having my solitude broken. "Well," he said, "I'm a Frenchman from Provence, and tire story, I'm going to tell is about my own brother. "He was educated in a first-rate school for a branch of "science, and, when he was qualified to practice, he tried his hand at inventing. Truly, he was most, clever. So you see, I was'not in the least surprised when he invented a powerful bomb, which, he claimed could reach Mars. "He was required to prove this, but, though he was willing to do so, he would not, for anyone, disclose his formulae. In an aeroplane he set off, using the bomb as a starting crank for his engine. Away he soared: "But a week later (my companion's voice grew husky), 'there was a smashed aeroplane found in England—no pilot near.' "Even at this news, I did notjjive up hofJe. I grew from a young man into a responsible business, man, and still I lived in half despair, for he was my twin brother, you understand, and we had been great chums. "I have had nervous breakdowns, time after time," the tragic little man went on, "for I cannot bear to think of my poor, poor brother as lost. Ah, well!" His voice grew thick with emotion, he lost his composure, 'and began to speak in short, sharp English, with a most queer muddling, of the tenses of verbs. His accent was decidedly foreign. "To-day," said he. "I am in Paris, There I visit a little home which 1 patronise. An old man gardener approach me wanting to speak. He is A'ery aged, with long white beard and flowiiK' D hair. His face—but I was not sure—yet it looked famil-var. He is no taller than I. • "I hope fervently—but non. How could my brother age 'so? Impossible. He say. '"'Sir, oh, sir, listen. Oh, listen! I've been'to Mars! I've been to Mars! Oh, listen, listen! No-one will believe me.' "A lady hurried out, and the old man became fiercely intent, once more, upon his gardening. Out of his hearing this lady say to me. "Eh, monsieur," and tap her head. "Quite harmless though. Come away." "Madam," I beg her. "Allow me to listen. It is very important that I should. Allow me please." She hurried away. The man listened, and then came back, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, sirl" he said, and his voice trembled. "Oh, sir, do not let them lock me away. Eh! But let me tell you. I've been to Mars. I have, I have, and they shan't say I have not!

"I cannot tell how I arrived-there, but I came back on the wing of a 'plane. I remember clutching the planet. It was a huge world, where every one, .ivas dressed in fancy costume. They, proceeded to help me to rise, from .where I had fallen from some great rocket, which had not stopped at Mars wonderful flight. ,"-.;

"The people —oh, they- are so kind to me, but they cannot give me food? I live on electricity like they, for one-year only. lam exhausted and they;—so sorry. They have never heard- of'"'such before.

"At last I must go. Oh, I wept-great tears at that, my friend. It is so pitiful. Alas! Back to earth I came, and when I tell of it to people, they send me her© to this hospital. l They think I am mad. Oh, sir !"

"I knew not what to say or do when the man had finished this talc. Could he—oh, could he be my brother?" My companion broke down and I waited in .silence. Soon foe became composed enough to go on. <

"I have not much to tell you now, sir," he said. "I went home and thought it over. I trembled at the trend my thoughts took. But I believe tli-ein/

"J)f week later, I go back and say I want thC-'old man. for my gardener. But —the .old .man had died. . . . 'And now I am >tfonc : in this great, wide world— alone!"

_ The tpight- was pitch black, and a light rain was drivelling down upon us, as we retired. Until th« first grey light of dawn appeared, I lay aM-akc, listening to the swishing of the waves, and thinking. . . . .