Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 193, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 August 1915 — HISLOVE STORY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HISLOVE STORY

by MARIE VAN VORST

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SYNOPSIS. —TO ■■ X>e Comte <e Sabron. captain of French cavalry, takas to hla quarters to raise by hand a motherless Irish terrier pup. and names It Pttehoune. He dines with the Marquise d'Eeclifnae and meets Miss Julia Redmond. American heiress. He Is ordered to Algiers but Is not allowed to hake servants or dogs. Mies Redmond takes care of Pltchoune, who. longing for his master, runs away from her. The marquise plans to marry Julia to the Due de Tremont. Pltchoune follows Sabron to Algiers, dog and master meet, and Sabron gets permission to keep his dog with him. The Due de Tremont finds the American heiress capricious. Sabron, wounded In an engagement, falls Into the dry bed of a river and la watched over by Pl ,c h° un *_ After a horrible night and day Pltchoune leaves him. Tremont takes Julia and the marquise to Algiers In his yacht but has doubts about Julia's Red Cross mission. CHAPTER XVll—Continued.

She had done this for several days, hat now she was restless. Sabron was not In Algiers. No news had keen brought of him. His regiment had been ordered out farther into the desert that seemed to stretch away Into infinity, and the vast cruel sands knew, and the stars knew where Babron had fallen and what was his history, and they kept the secret The marquise made herself as much at home as possible in Algiers, put up with the inefficiency of native servants, and her duty was done. Her first romantic elan was over. Sabron had recalled to her the idyl of a loveaffair of a quarter of a century before, but ahe had been for too long Marquise d'Bscllgnac to go back to •n ideal. She pined to have her niece a duchess, and never Bpoke the nnfortunate Sabron’s name.

They were surrounded -y fashionable life. As soon as their arrival had been made known there had been a flutter of cards and a passing of carriages and automobiles, and this worldly life added to the unhappiness and restlessness of Julia. Among the guests had been one woman whom •he found sympathetic; the woman’s eyes had drawn Julia to her. It was Com tease de la Maine, a widow, young as herself and, as Julia said, vastly better-looking. Turning to Tremont on the balcony, when he told her ahe was beautiful, she said: “Madame de la Maine Is my ideal of loveliness."

The young man wrinkled his fair brow. "Do you think so. Mademoiselle? Why?" "She has character as well as perfect lines. Her eyes look as though they could weep and laugh. Her mouth looks as though it could say adorable things.” Tremont laughed softly and said: “Go on, you amuse me.” “And her hands look as though they could caress and comfort I like her awfully. I wish she were my friend." Tremont said nothing, and she glanced at him suddenly. “She says such lovely things about you. Monsieur.” "Really! She is too indulgent” “Don’t be worldly,” said Miss Redmond gravely, "be human. I like you best so. Don’t you agree with me?” "Madame de la Maine is a very charming woman," said the young man, and the girl saw a change come over his features. **

At this moment as they stood so together, Tremont pulling his mustache and looking out through the bougainvillea vines, a dark figure made its way through the garden to the villa, came and took its position under the balcony where the duke and Miss Redmond leaned. It was a native, a man in filthy rags. He turned bis face to Tremont and bowed low to the lady.

“Excellency,” he said in broken French, “my name is Hammet Abou. 1 was the ordonnance of Monsieur le Capitaine de Sabron.’’ “What!” exclaimed Tremont, “what did you say?” “Ask him to come up here,” said Julia Redmond, “or, no—let us go down to the garden.” “It is damp,” said Tremont, ‘let me get you a shawl.” “No, no, I need nothing.” She had hurried before him down the little stairs leading into the garden from the balcony, and she had begun to speak to the native before Tremont appeared. In this recital he addressed his words to Julia alone. “I am a very poor man. Excellency/’ be said in a mellifluous tone, “and very ■ick.” “Have you any money. Monsieur?” “Pray do not suggest it/’ said the duke sharply. “Let him tell what he will; we will pay him later.” "I have been very sick,” said the mmn have left the army. I do Hot like the French army," said,.the native simply. “You are very frank,” said Tremont brutally. “Why do you come here at any rate?" “Hnsh," said Julia Redmond imploringly. “po not anger him. Monsieur, he may have news.” She asked: "Have you news?" and there was a note in her voice that made Tremont jglanee at her. “I have eoen the excellency and k»r grandmother,” said the native, " '■ >

“many times going into the garrison." “What news have -you of Captain de Sabron?” asked the girl directly. Without replying, the man said In a melancholy voice: “I was his ordonnance, I saw him fall in the battle of Dirbal. 1 saw him shot in the side. I was Bbot, too. See?" He started to pull away his rags. Tremont clutched him. “You beast.’’ he muttered, and pushed him back. “If you have anything to say, say it.” Looking at Julia Redmond's colorless face, the native asked meaningly: “Does the excellency wish any news ?”

"Yes." said Tremont, shaking him. “And if you do not give it, it will be the worse for you.” “Monsieur le Capltaine fell, and I fell, too; I saw no more.” Tremont said: “You see the fellow Is half lunatic and probably knows nothing about Sabron. I shall put him out of the garden.” But Miss Redmond paid no attention to her companion. She controlled her voice and asked the man: “Was the Capltaine de Sabron alone?” “Except,” said the native steadily, with a glance of disgust at the duke, "except for his little dog.” “Ah!” exclaimed Julia Redmond, with a catch in her voice, “do you hear that? He must have been his servant. What was the dog’s name?” “My name,” said the native, “is Hammet Abou.” To her at this moment Hammet Abou was the most important person in North Africa.

"What was the little dog’s name, Hammet Abou?” The man raised his eyes and looked at the white woman with admiration. "Pltchoune,” he said, and saw the effect. Tremont saw the effect upon her, too. ”1 have a wife and ten children,” said the man, “and I live far away.” "Heavens! I haven’t my purse,” said Julia Redmond. “Will you not give him something, Monsieur?” “Walt," said Tremont, “wait What else do you know? If your informa-

tion is worth anything to us we will pay you, don’t be afraid.” “Perhaps the excellency’s grandmother would like to hear, too,” said the man naively. Julia Redibond smiled: the youthful Marquise d’Esclignac! Once more Tremont seized the man by the arm and shook him a little. “If you don’t tell what you have to say and be quick about it, my dear fellow, I shall hand you over to the police.” “What for?” said the man, “what have I done?” "Well, what have you got to tell, and how much do you want for it?” "I want one hundred francs for this,” and he pulled out from his dirty rags a little packet and held it up cautiously.

It looked like a package of letters and a man’s pocketbook. “You take it,” said the Due de Tremont to Julia Redmond, “you take it. Mademoiselle.” She did so without hesitation; it was evidently Sabron’s pocketbook, a leather one with his initials upon It, together with a little package of letters. On the top she saw her letter to him. Her hand trembled so that she could scarcely hold the package. It seemed to be all that was left to her. She heard Tremont ask: "Where did you get this, you miserable dog?" “After the battle,” said the man coolly, with evident truthfulness, “I was very sick. We were in camp several days at w Then J got better

•ad want along tba dried rtvur bank to look for Monsieur le Capltaine, and I found this in the sands." "Do you believe him?" asked Julia Redmond. "Hum," said Tremont He did not wish to tell her he thought the man capable of robbing the dead body of his master. He asked the native: “Have you no other news?” The man was silent He clutched the rags at his breast and looked at Julia Redmond.

"Please give him some money, Mon* sleur.” “The dog!" Tremont shook him again. “Not yet." And he said to the man: “If this Is all you have to tell we will give you one hundred francs for this parcel. You can go and don’t return here again.” “But it Is not all,” said the native quietly, looking at Julia Her heart began to beat like mad and she looked at the man. His keen dark eyea seemed to pierce her. “Monsieur," said the American girl boldly, “would you leave me a moment with him? I think he wants to speak with me alone.” But the Due de Tremont exclaimed in surprise:

“To speak with you alone. Mademoiselle! Why should he? Such a thing is not possible!” “Don’t go far,” she begged, “but leave us s moment, I pray.” When Tremont, with great hesitation, took a few steps away from them and she stood face to face with the creature who 7 had been with Sabron and Been him fall, ahe said earnestly: "Now speak without reserve. Tell me everything.” The face of the man was transformed. He became human, devoted, ardent.

“Excellency," he said, swiftly in his halting French, ‘T love Monsieur la Capltaine. He was so kind and such a brave soldier. I want to go to find Monsieur le Capltaine, but I am ill and too weak to walk. I believe I know where he 1b hid—l want to go." The girl breathed: “Oh, can it be possible that what you say is true, Hammet Abou? Would you really go If you could?” The man made, with a graceful gesture of his hand, a map in the air.

“It was like this?” he said; "I think he drew himself up the bank. I followed the track of his blood. I was too weak to go any farther, Excellency.” “And how could you go now?" she asked. “By caravan, like a merchant, secretly. I would find him.” Julia Redmond put out a slim hand, white as a gardenia. The native lifted it and touched hia forehead with it. “Hammet Abou,” she said, “go away for tonight and come tomorrow —we will see you, ” And without waiting to speak again to Monsieur de Tremont, the native slid away out of the garden like a shadow, as though his limbs were not weak with disease and his breast shattered by shot.

When Monsieur de Tremont had walked once around the garden, keeping his eyes nevertheless on the group, he came back toward Julia Redmond, but not quickly enough, for she ran up the stairs and into the house with Sabron’s packet In her hand. CHAPTER XVIII. Two Lovely Women. There was music at the Villa des Bougainvilleas. Miss Redmond sang; not “Good-night, God Keep Yon Safe,” but other things. Ever since her talk with Hammet Abou she had been, if not gay, in good spirits, more like her old self, and the Marquise d’Esclignac began to think that the image of Charles de Sabron had not been cut too deeply upon her mind. The marquise, from the lounge In the shadow of the room, enjoyed the picture

(Sabron would not have added It to his collection) of her niece at the piano and the Due de Tremont by her side. The Comtesse de la Maine sat in a little shadow of her own, musing and enjoying the picture of the Due de Tremont and Miss Redmond very Indifferently. She did not .:ing, she had no parlor accomplishments. She was poor, a widow, and had a child. She was not a brilliant match. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

"Now Speak Without Reserve."