A BAD HALF-HOUR.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXV, Issue 10010, 28 November 1908, Page 2 (Supplement)

A BAD HALF-HOUR.

(By Clofilde Graves.)

Handsome Monsieur Charles, from the pepperbox-turreted- sixteenth' century- chateau, whose' three gilded: weather-vanes one could see above the looming beechwoods, standing on the -doorstep of the village tavern.of the "Three-Roses," arid looking rip the street,' came trotting through the village on his English hack. M. Charles, brother to Monsieur the Marquis. And he reined up the mare" before the tavern, and spoke to a girl who leaned against the door-post. "My pretty one,'-can you get me a glass of red. wine arid cider?- I am as thirsty as a hound after the chase, though I have riot been on-horseback half an hour. : It is this roasting July weather. One seems -to have no energy for • anything but lying in a hammock and drinking- iced cup." ■ •'' ; "-;'• •';■' "Our" cup is not iced, monsieur." ' She had- brought- him, out- the short, squabtumbler on a- Gei-man silver waiter of 'incredibly cheap -ugliness,! and replied .with a little clumsy, peasant-girl curtsey'to-I'.is bow, as ■ he. gallantly drank her health. "And August- will be hotter even than July, yet M. le Marquis and monsieur, with the ladies-.'ind gentlemen of the hunt, and the officers of Cuirassiers from, the barracks, will be riding after the boar and blowing the bienaller from morning till night." "That is excitement—Life, in a : word." "Hunting a poor aniirial to death in its' native woods. ' Trampling; the fern and 1 mosses into pulp, breaking, down branches, spoiling,, the, lovely. ,guiet.. 0.f., the ...green forest with savage cries and..senseless., rjot. And for what!. Excitement, ...without which Life .is not life?... I congratulate you, .monsieur.;' ....<... . .... ~ .. .She dropped .another .curtsey.,that yras mockery, aud a little too graceful...for .a peasant .girl in wooden-soled shoes and i striped linsey. .. , . M. Charles straightened his smart- low- , crowned .hat on his handsome brow, and , cast- a complacent glance at his well-fit-ting, coat, and leggings. . "Men are all brutes, cherie. They must hunt something. Boars and,. hares, and so forth. in the country ; in big cities, like Paris and Vienna and London, a more beautiful land of game—woman, in a word." . She swept down her long curved eyelashes between the anger in her. brown eyes and the insolent, laughing looks of the man. Her tone was sweet and suave : "I am a- poor girl and ignorant, but I have heard it said that there are women who hunt men."_ ... "They hunt to be hunted, cherie."_ He finished the ■ thick, reddish-yellow liquid in the glass and. laid it back upon the tray, a broad silver piece beside it. "Keep the change for yourself, and, goodday-"' ...... "An revoir, Monsieur.;' "If . heaven wills," said Monsieur, his gay glance . running over the dainty outlines of the figure in the blue stuff gown and tucked-up apron, "it shall be au revoir. You are new to this village, I think?" "Since yesterday. I am in the place of ■ La Petip't, the stout girl who used to serve. Madame Berthelot .is pleased with . rile," she shrugged her dainty shoulders, "but- new brooms sweep clean." , * "As new kisses please better than old ones, and fresh eyes are brighter than those we loved last month," said Monsieur. "Who did Monsieur love, last month ?" she jeered. "Can he remember? A month is a long time, and great gentlemen have veTy — very short memories." ... . "I am certain," said Monsieur, "of one thing. She was not you. I have never seen such eyes in a woman's face before." ■ They were curious, those tragic, sombre, velvety eyes, in the laughing mask of girlish gaiety. She veiled them with her long Ja'sHes as if afraid of what they might betray. "No. . Perhaps it is as well that you only see (hem now. Perhaps.it would be better if vou never saw them again?" "That is a challenge." He swung himself out of the saddle laughing, and hitched the bridle of the mare to a hook in the green shutter-frame, and came towards her with gay, provoking raillery on the. red curved mouth that- was shaded by the slightly waxed moustache. "I must see theni closer." He tried to put- his arm about her. "Do not touch me, Monsieur." She spoke breathlessly, with color that- came and went like a .blown flame. "Since when have tavern-maids become prudish, and kisses forbidden?" They were all alike, he thought, as she darted clown tht long wainscoted passage and swiftly mounteu a short flight of corkscrew stairs to announce to somebody who waited in ,the little low-ceiled, heavily-beamed, ' three-cornered sittingroom that was sometimes let to a travelling painter, or a stray tourist, simply furnished with a table and chairs and an old press-cupboard, fastened with a heavy iron bar. "He is coming. Step back into the bedroom there a moment, until I have locked the door and shut the window, and we have him safe. Oh," Monsieur !"' He might- have read the meaning in her eyes now if he had looked into them. But when his foot crossed the threshold their fringes hid them again. Her hand; wentin alarm to her bosom. She gasped : "Oh—h! Monsieur ought not to have followed me. It was very wrong. Madame Berthelot——" Monsieur saw the promise of amusement in the affair. '"Madame Berthelot knows which sideof her pancake has preserve on it,, my dear.-. She will not be inhospitable to her landlord's brother. And I know..this, room of old." A rough sketch in oils of th« village street and the distant beech-wooda topped with the pepperbox turrets of the chateau sparkling in the sunshine of an autumn morning, was fastened with a couple of nails above the wooden mantelshelf. "A little friend of mine, a student of Tony Fehe's rented these rooms.three seasons back, when I was staying with the Marquis for the hunting. She was very pretty, too, but not quite so pretty as thou arf, little coquette, and I " . The door that led to the small, clean, simply furnished bedroom now opened as the key turned in the other door. "Look and see, Monsieur, if I be pretty still." She was. a pale, worn, haggard young creature in a poor black gown, with crape upon it., Her brown hair that had been full of little waves and curls," and colored like the .red beech-leaves, was twisted .back from her white emaciated face in a careless knot. He said, with a change of face thatmade him many years older, in the instant, "Lueie.!" ... ... "I am glad that you recognise me, Mon : sieur," she said. "Madeleine—for this.is my sister, who was a midinette at Auber : tine's in the ; Rue Lafayette, and did notdesert nie. when you ruined and left me-j but came to me and stayed by me',- and worked for us bolh—Madeline, said the bait to bring you to us would .be a, pretty girl, who seemed innocent- and was willing to flirt with you, playing as other little fools have done, close to a furnace that devours and does not spare. What are you doing at that door?" He said between his teeth, wrenching at the lock: ' . .. "You and she have tricked me—and that is enough. Uunlock this, or you will repent it." Her laugh jarred on his nerves. "Repent! I have nothing more to repent. I expiated on : the day the boy died. You see, I am in mourning for him. Why are not you?" "I regret your bereavement, if it is ' one," he said, livid with anger and disgust. "Spare me further scenes—more fair speeches. If you need money, lam in funds now, and. can supply your ' needs. I - was poor when I left you. I dare say you did not believe it." The sister spoke. "We do not want your money, Monsieur. It would be defilement to touch 1 it. Lucie and I are upon quite different 1 business. Do not trouble to ring, Mon : < sieur. The. bell at the other end has beeii : taken away. The landlady and her bus- i band are at their vineyard for the day,' and Lucie and I are left in charge." He had been dragging furiously at the cotton-covered bellrope. He wrenched it c from its place and threw it- oil the floor. -s "Do you think to inveigle and murder s me? Madame Berthelot! Michel!'' 1 His strong voice echoed through the o house empty of any inmates save the three . a in that room. He noticed that the win- t dow had bars. He shrugged his shoulders 1< and took a chair. C

'- '''YouVmust-khow that if-I choose to exert friy/6tfength;l ep'uld overpower;-botli of - you,-and;-take the key.- -But "one'-bf you' has- a» just cause" of complaint against me, and I endure\this outrage: Say what you came'tovsay,-arid be" quick about it.; lou do riot ;waiifemoney ; vvhat is it then?" "Revenge!" The utterance came from- one of- the sisters, -but he coui'd/nbt have told which, for the eyes-of both were fixed upon him, and the lips of both-were apart. He could- -see the white- teeth gleaming behind the rosy lips and. those others, rotfbed by his ruinous, kiss-of £olor, andl withered in their bloom. :,-1 ' .'.-.. - ■-• - "Ta,'ta,» la,, la !" - He .nursed his knee and tapped his-boot with his gold-mounted riding crop. "Obsolete-and useless. ; Say —a .substantial compensation,-and .have done. Titne flies.. ■". ...He "looked .■* at his watch. He had been'-, going £0 meet the boar-trackers at an appointed-place,-to arrange the-morrow's hunt. Now he was late.- Confound women!- - -....- v--. "Very well. ; .We wiUjsa-y a substantial coriipensation—but it ; shall be .of what kind she-chooses;-" : •-/- -- '-■•«- "The sister, had spoken, pointing to Lucie. :.-..'. . , , "And I choose," said Lucie, "since that traitor cannot be made. to. suffer in the soul or in the conscience, being, as hard, and.callous as.;he is handsome and gay— I choose to see. him. sufEer.-in.the.-body-My. grandmother killed.-.;,seventeen.;lmpe-rialists .in ,the..tinieiof .the Commuhe>/.with nistol and the knife on the.; barricades. I have some of her blood.in me,. I,think. I, meant. : his boy; alidLmine.to-.,liveuand one /day. kill. .Mm, . .him .-as ha died! what : hand had given., him—fierce, devouring beast "that he is—the,coup de grace.". "You would have reared him to commit parricide?": ... • .". ... Madeleine laughed, an ugly little jarring laugh.. .. -. .. ~ . , ..'. :-." '... . "The. idea-.seems .abominable to you, my moralist,? :. Well, everyone .to his taste.:" : "What can you do, either of you?" said Monsieur, pulling.-out.-his. -cigarette-case and choosing 'a pretty little paper tube of tobacco.with, fastidious,.care.-, "Two women, against- a man. .. It ds. absurd." He turned back the crested gold case-and felt for..a: vesta. - "Perfectly absurd!" "Perfectly absurd ! But what if the revenge ■; were accomplished already, in aglass of cider and wine. '' • "Poison!" . , . .... Monsieur, livid and ghastly, dropped the cigarette. .~. .. ", "Look at him, my sister," said Madeleine, with triumph in her sombre eye. "There is no change as yet. You. see him nearly as when he, was ,when you loved him, to. your misery arid, my grief'- Silky hah- J and a well-trained mousta.che, a. lady's,.,hand, and eyes like a .beautiful woman's. . Who could, resist such.a lover, even now? But even the 'Rat Mort' could not show us such.a change as we shall.6ee in him, sitting here and watching, before an hour goes by. You will be an ugly thing, . Monsieur', blotched' and 1 bloated, and. croaking for water'/.to. allay your pangs." There was madness in her laugh. 'T would have Lucie see you so, Monsieur, for her love for you stands in. .the way of -her marriage .with . an honest, usly man, who. worships her, poor soul! all the more that her beauty has gone. When could a heart like yours be capable of such love. as. that?" .;, , ..He was not- listening. He was feeling his pulse, listening for his heart-beats, waiting for the first sickening swirl of dizziness, the...first hideous pang. .And they .were delayed; but lie knew, that; he would not have to-wait long. ... He.looked from one of his executioners to the other, and a clammy.perspiration broke out upon him. How long—how much, longer to wait ? , The eyes .of the., women watching him might have been enamelled in ivory faces, they were so still and so pitiless. A sob broke from him. "Have: riiercy!" "Do you hear, my sister? He calls to us for mercy. T pleaded- with him for mercy," said Lucie, adjusting her black, dress with thin work-worn, fingers, "when he left me in Paris. I was a little art student when he took me. Then I was his—for a ,while, until he saw another. woman who seemed inore desirable in his eyes. , Then—J .was. a wanderer, sleeping en doorsteps and under hedges, for t could not eat the bread of sin from any other hand.. Now I am a seamstress, and I sew his shroud." ' She . brought out- a bundle of white 'flannel arid composedly capped her finger with a' thimble. "I will help vou, sister," said Madeleine, and threaded a needle. Xney were like two. of the Fates as they sewed, one at each end; of the long, wide strip. And when would Atropos with her *issors cut the thread? He would have tried to strangle them, relentless,• plotting,devils that they were, but his limbs; had become curiously weak, all his muscles felt relaxed, and there was a curious buzzing in his head. He half-staggered up from the' chair and fell upon his knees, on the bare boards. If he could get to the window, dash out a glass pane of the shut- casement,.and thrust a beckoning hand between the bars, some: ■one passing in the street might see and run for the doctor, and bring him, breakirig in the door, and save the life he loved £O. "Back with vou, Monsieur. Back!" Madeleine.had divined his purpose. She had dropped her end of the windingsheet, and stood between Monsieur and the window, (he heavy iron bar that fastened the door of the old press-cupboard in her hand. • . . "The doctor—the doctor !" he moaned. "Ah! cannot y-bu be pitiful ? Lucie—you once loyed me. Can you bear to see me die like-a poisoned- rat?" Both the women laughed. "He is very, brave, this lover of yours, my sister," said Madeleine. "See how he craves and Weeps and begs. He does not even know how to die like a man." "Is this a. man's .death? No—but- a fat's. 'All! as yo:i would have mercy from heaven,' Monsieur cried, "call someone. Send someone for the doctor." -• Madeleine said, with her eyes upon her sister : "Is this enough, my dear? Do you love him any more? Will his face haunt your dreams after this?" She. pointed a finger mockingly at him. "You are hideous,' Monsieur. The poison has made you as ugly as a toad. ' I do not believe a woman would kiss vou now if you showeredfold upon her. Ha, ha, ha! But Death will-embrace you. Do you not feel her close? Do you no!, feel her bony arms about you ? A happy honeymoon, Monsieur, Monsieur !" Monsieur heard no more, for he had fainted., Presently he. revived and sat u.pHis first thought, was that he had. been niding and had" a .fall-. The casement was open., fresh air came.,.through'-... The door,, leading, to' the bedroom stood, open,; he. could- see, that, the room, was enrpty. He staged; stupidly for a space, and.then his dull hiemci-y thronged with pictures and, words, 'He-put, out, his. hand to grasp the table and help .himself to rise, and he saw..that it was. white,and dainty, not the syro'Uen hand, of'a poisoned,, man. He staggered to,a. little greenish lookiiiia:■glass that hung over the mantelshelf. The face was pale and drawn that he saw there, but it-was not. the face of a. poisoned man.. But over.,the forehead, amongst the: short, brown, waiving hair, crimpsc! by, his., valet, with careful tongs each, morning, vras, a ~patch- of. white that had:, not been. there, .before. ■ ■ ■ .He had . been tricked. . He looked, at, hia watch. Half an hour had elapsed! since he entered the tavern following a. new. flame, to■-taste, of. retribution. It- seemed: as .though ,da,ys and nights, .had passed;.. He , went..,iinstendi!y downstairs.. The mare-.was'hitched to this staple in; the shutter-frame. - The .scorching sunshine lay bright. and- unchanged upon.; the dusty street—but Monsieur Charles had become'many years "older in that half-hour. .'....-..