Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 211, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 September 1915 — HIS LOVE STORY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HIS LOVE STORY

by MAR IE VAN VORST

ILLUSTRATIONS

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CHAPTER XXVI. —lB - , j.|.. Congratulation*. The Due de Tremont saw What splendid stuff the captain in the Cavalry was made of by the young man’s quick convalescence. Sabron could not understand why Robert lingered after the departure of the Marquise d’Esclignac, the Comtesse de la Maine and Miss Redmond. The presence of the young man would have been agreeable if it had not been for his Jealousy and his unhappiness. They played piquet together. Sabron, In his right mind, thinner and paler, nevertheless very much of a man, now smoked his cigarettes and ate his three meals a day. Re took a wglk every day and was quite fit to leave the Orient Tremont said: “I think, Sabron, that we can sail this week.” Sabron looked at him questioningly. “You are going, then, too—?” “Of course,” said the young nobleman heartily. “We are going together. You know I am going to take you back in my yacht.” Sabron hesitated and then said: "No, mon vieux, If you will excuse me I think I shall remain faithful to the old line of travel. I have an idea that I am not in yachting trim.” Tremont was not too dull to have noticed his friend’s change of attitude toward him. He smoked for a few moments and then said: “When we get back to Paris I want to have the pleasure of introducing you to my fiancee.” Sabron dropped bls cards. /‘lntroducing me!” he repeated. Then putting out his hand, said cordially: "I knew you were to be felicitated, old fellow.” Tremont shook his hand warmly. “Yes, and the lady Is very anxious to know you. It is Madame de la Maine.” A very warm color flushed the cheeks of the invalid. He remembered all he had heardand all he had known. He congratulated his friend with sincere warmth, and after a few moments said: “If you really want me to go back with youjon the yacht, old chap—” “I really do,” said Tremont serenely. “You see, when we came on the boat we scarcely hoped to be so fortunate as to bring back the distingushed captain.” Sabron smiled. “But you have not told me yet," he said, "why you came down." "No," said Tremont, "that Is true. Well, It will make a story for the sea.”

CHAPTER XXVII. ■' ■ - - - . ’* * - Valor in Retrospect. In the month of May, when the chestnuts bloom in the green dells, where the delicate young foliage holds the light as in golden cups, a young man walked through one of the sinall allees of the Bola at the fashionable noon hour, a little reddish dog trotting at his heels. The young man walked with an imperceptible limp. He was thin, as men are who. have lived hard and who have overcome tremendous obstacles. He was tanned as men are browned who have come from eastern and extreme southern countries. The little dog had also an imperceptible limp occasioned by a bicycle running over him when he was a puppy. The two companions seemed immensely to enjoy the spring day. Sabron every now and then stood for a few moments looking at the gay passers-by, pedestrians and equestrians, enjoying to the full the repose of civilization, the beauty of his own land. Pltchoune looked with indifference upon the many dogs. He did not stir from his master’s side. When Sabron was qiiiet, the little animal stood at attention; he was a soldier’s dog. He could have told dog stories to those insignificant worldly dogs could have told of really thrilling adventures. His brown eyes were pathetic with their appeal of affection as they looked up at his beloved master. He had a fund of experience such as the poodles and the terriers led by their owners could not understand. Therefore Pltchoune was indifferent to them. Not one of those petted, ridiculous house dogs could have run for miles in the dark across an African desert, could have found Beni Medlnet and fetched relief to his master. Pltchoune was proud of IL He was very well satisfied with his career. He was still young; other deeds of valor perhaps lay before him—who can tell? At any rate he had been shown about at the ministry of war, been very much admired, and he was a proud animal. When Sabron spoke to him he leaped upon him and wagged his tail. After a tew moments, as the two stood near the exit of an allee leading to one of the grand avenues, Pltchoune slowly went in front of his master and toward two ladies sitting on a bench In the gentle warmth of the May sun-

light Pltchoune, moved from his usual indifference, gave a short bark, walked up to the ladles, and began to snuff about their feet. The younger lady exclaimed, and then Sabron, lifting his hat, came forward, the crimson color beating in his dark tanned cheeks. The Marquise d’Esclignac held out both hands to the officer: “It’s nearly noon," she said, “and you don’t forget that you have promised to lunch with us, do you, Monsieur le Capitaine?” Sabron, bending over her hand, assured her that he had not forgotten. Then his eyes traveled to her companion. Miss Redmond wore a very simple dress, as was her fashion, but the young officer from Africa, who had not seen her near by until now and who had only caught a glimpse of her across the opera house, thought that he had never seen such a beautiful dress in all his life. It was made of soft gray cloth and fitted her closely, and in the lapel of her mannish little buttonhole she wore a few Parma violets. He recognized them. They had come from a bunch that he had sent her the night before. He kissed her hand, and they stood talking together, Jthe three of them, for a few moments, Pltchoune stationing himself as a sentinel by Miss Redmond’s side. The Marquise d’Esclignac rose. The young girl rose as well, and they walked on together. "Mes enfants," said the Marquise d'Escllgnac, "don’t go with your usual rush, Julia. Remember that Monsieur de Sabron is not as strong as Hercules yet. I will follow you with Pltchoune."

But she spoke without knowledge of the dog. Now feeling that some unwonted happiness had suddenly burst upon the horizon that he knew, Pitchoune seemed suddenly seized with a rollicking spirit such as had been his characteristic some years ago. He tore like mad down the path in front of Sabron and Miss Redmond. He whirled around like a dervish, he dashed across the road In front of automobiles, dashed back again, springing upon his master and whining at the girl’s feet. "See," said Sabron, “how happy he is.” “I should think he would be happy. He must have a knowledge of what an important animal he is. Just think! If he were a man they would give him a decoration." And the two walked tranquilly side by side. Pitchoune ran to the side of the road, disappeared into a little forest all shot through with light He came back, bringing the remains of an old rubber ball lost there by some other dog, and laid it triumphantly in front of Miss Redmond. "See,” said Sabron, “he brings you his trophies.”

CHAPTER XXVIII. ~ Happiness. Le Comte de Sabron finished his dressing. Brunet surveyed his master from the tip of bis shining boots to his sleek, fair head. His expressive eyes said: “Monsieur le Capitaine is looking well tonight.” Brunet had never before given his master a direct compliment. His eyes only had the habit of expressing admiration, and the manner in which he performed his duties, his devotion, were his forms of compliment. But Sabron’s long illness and absence, the fact that been snatched from death and given back to the army again, leveled between servant and master the impassable wall of etiquette. “There will be a grand dinner tonight, will there not, Monsieur le Capitaine? Doubtless Monsieur le Colonel and all the gentlemen will be there.” Brunet made a comprehensive gesture as though he comprised the entire etat major. Sabron, indeed, looked well. He was thin, deeply bronzed by the exposure on the yacht, for he and Tremont before returning to France had made a long cruise. Sabron wore the look of a man who has come back from a far country and is content. “And never shall I forget to the end of my days how Monsieur le Capitaine looked when I met the yacht at Marseilles’” - Brunet spoke reverently, as though he were chronicling sacred souvenirs. “I said te myself, yon are about to welcome back a hero, Brunet! Monsieur le Capitaine will be as weak as a child. But I was determined that Monsieur le Capitaine should not read my feelings, however great my emotion." . Sabron smiled. At no time in his simple life did Brunet ever conceal the most trifling emotion—his simple face revealed all his simple thoughts. Sabron saifi heartily: “Tour control was very fine, indeed." “Instead of seeing a sick man, Monsieur le Capitaine, a splendid-looking figure, with red cheeks and bright

eyes, came off th® boat to th® shore. I said to myself: ‘Brunet, he has the air of one who comes back from a vie* tory.’ No one would have ever believed that Monsieur le Capitaine had been rescued from captivity.” Brunet’s curiosity was very Strong and as far as his master was concerned he had been obliged to crush it down. To himself he was saying: “Monsieur le Capitaine is on the eve of some great event When will he announce it to me? I am sure my master is going to be married.” Pitchoune, from a chair near by, assisted at his master’s toilet, one moment holding the razor strop between his teeth, then taking the clothes brush in his little grip. He was saying to himself: “I hope in the name of rats and cats my master is not going out without me!” Brunet was engaged to be married to the kitchen maid of the Marquise d’Esclignac. Ordonnances and scullions are not able to arrange their matrimonial affairs so easily as are the upper classes. “Monsieur le Capitaine,” said the servant, his simple face raised to his master’s, “I am going to be married.” Sabron wheeled around: “Mon brave Brunet, yhen?” Brunet grinned sheepishly. “In five years, Monsieur le Capitaine,” at which the superior officer laughed heartily. “Is she an infant, are you educating her?" “When one is the eldest of a widow,” said Brunet with a sigh, “and the eldest of ten children —” The clock struck the quarter. Sabron knew the story of the widow and ten children by heart. “Is the taxi at the door?” "Yes, Monsieur le Capitaine.” Pitchoune gave a sharp bark. “You are not invited,” said his master cruelly, and went gayly out, his sword hitting against the stairs.

The Marquise d’Esclighac gave a brilliant little dinner to the colonel of Sabron’s squadron. There were present a general or two, several men of distinction, and among the guests were the Due de Tremont and Madame de la Maine. Sabron, when he found himself at table, looked at everything as though in a dream. Julia Redmond sat* opposite him. He had sent her flowers and she wore them in her bodice. Madame de la Maine bent upon the young officer benignant eyes, the Due de Tremont glanced at him affectionately, but Sabron was only conscious that Julia’s eyes did not meet his at all. They talked of Sabron’s captivity, of the engagement in Africa, of what the army was doing, would not do, or might do, and the fact that the Due de Tremont was to receive the decoration of the Legion or Honor in July. Tremont toasted Sabron and the young officer rose to respond with flushing face. He looked affectionately at his friend who had brought him from death into life. The moment was intense, and the Marquise d’Esclignac lifted her glass: "Now, gentlemen, you must drink to the health of Pitchoune.” There was a murmur of laughter, Madame de la Maine turned to Sabron: "I have had a collar made for Pitchoune,* it is of African leather set with real turquoise.” Sabron bowed: “Pitchoune will be perfectly enchanted, Madame; he will wear it at your wedding.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)