Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 176, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 July 1916 — The Red Mirage [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Red Mirage

A Story of the French Legion in Algiers

By I. A. R. WYLIE

SYNOPSIS. — lo— Oniney, her lover, Richard Farquhar, finds, has fallen In love with Captain Arnaud of the Foreign Lesrion. In Captain Sower's room Farquhar forces Sower to have Preston’s I O. U s returned to him. Farquhar Is helped to lus rooms by GabrleUe Smith. BoWer demands an apology. Refused, he forces Farquhar to resign his commission In return for possession of Farquar’s father’s written confession that be had murdered Sower’s father. GabrleUe saves Farquhar from suicide. To shield Arnaud, Sylvia s fiance, Farquhar professes to have stolen war plans and tells the real culprit why be did so. As Richard Nameless he Joins the Foreign Legion and sees Sylvia, now Mme. Arnaud, meet Colonel Destlnn. Farquhar meets Sylvia and GabrleUe, and learns from Corporal Goetz of the colonel's cruelty. Arnaud becomes a drunkard and opium smoker. Sylvia becomes friendly with Colonel Destlnn. Arnaud becomes Jealous of Farquhar. Farquhar. on guard at a villa where a dance Is In progress. Is shot down by Arnaud. Arnaud Justifies his Insanely jealous action to Colonel Destlnn. Arnaud goes to a dancing girl who loves him for comfort.

Opium Is a deadly drug, but It makea man dream away their Uvea In a sort of artificial peace. Burdened with the flrlef of desertion, racked by disease that Is fatal, buffeted by fate and thoroughly disheartened, a mid-dle-aged man smokes opium to keep hie eenees deadened. Do you think hie action justified?

CHAPTER X— Continued. “I tried to kill him,” he said quietly but distinctly, “and I mean to kill him. That is the only change.” “Is that any change? Has it taught your fair, pure yoipg wife to love and honor you?” He ground his teeth together without answering, and she went on, her voice grown suddenly harsh and contemptuous. “You are a fool, Desire. You are a fool, like all men. What Is there In this one women that you should care? She.is pretty, but others are prettier. I have seen her, for it amused me to have a glance at the wonder who could drive two men to the devil. And what Is she? A charming doll with a child’s eyes and e sparrow’s brain. What else —” The girl rose. She* took one of the long-stemmed pipes from* the table and lighted it at the brazier. The red embers glowed up on to her face,' where •was written a somber inscrutable bitterness. She came back and placed the pipe in his inert haDd. “There!” she said simply. “That is what you have come for. Forgetfulness.” He nodded. Silently he cowered back among the ragged cushions and with balf-closed eyes began to smoke. In the hovel there was perfect silence. As the minutes passed the subtle magic perfume sleeping beneath the rank •weetness awoke, the lurking dreams

«| Tried to Kill Him,” He Bald Quietly but Distinctly, M and I Mean to Kill Him.” and fancies came out from among their shadows and moved lightly to and fro In the brightening circle of firelight Arnaud smiled wistfully at them. Little by little the terrible lines of pain drawn abbot his features passed, leaving them a white peace. A sigh broke from his loosely parted BP* “Sylvia—Sylvia—my wife—” His head dropped back—the strangestemmed pipe slipped from his powerless fingers and fell with a soft thud to the floor. The woman bent over him and kissed him. A. single tear, drawn Ifrom a well of eavage pity, had (dropped on the untroubled brow. - : “God of our fathers,” she whispered Ifrom between clenched teeth, “Thou Go west I am bad—rotten to the heart ant thou knowest also I am not so bad as the woman who sent this man to me.” She knelt down, and with her dark hgad against the sleeper’s knee watched and waited. All was quiet But on the other side of the curtain an Arab crouching beside the brazier awoke. There was

a Blight smile about his lips as though bis dreams had brought him food for amused reflection, and with a quick glance at his motionless companion he got up and slipped out into the street. It was now toward evening and the great heat of the day was broken. At a white-walled villa on one of the broad avenues he gilded through a Moorish doorway Into the passage. Before him lay the courtyard where two women talked, their low voices mingling musically. At last he came out into the light. His manner was Inimitable in its suggested homage and a hundred unspoken flatteries. - “Madame, it’s Abou-Yakoud who ventures before you," he - said in bis soft Arab Freneh. “Abou-Yakoud, who has seen Mecca and who reads Destiny as an open book. Give me your hand, madame. For a little franc, I will tell you good and evil—what was and what is to come.” Sylvia Arnaud started slightly and turned. “You shall not come in here,” She said impatiently, and yet not without a childish touch of hesitation. “Begging is forbidden. Now be gone!” She tossed a handful of money on to the white stone flags. Each coin rang out like a note of jangling laughter, which- still echoed after her as she passed Into the shadows of the gateday. Abou-Yakoud bent and gathered the nickel pieces from the ground. When he looked up again he stood straight and erect, and the beard bad vanished. “GabrleUe!” be said softly. She turned a little. The warm gold of evening was on her face and softened the stern lines to a mild and noble serenity. “I tnow,” she said. “Your voice betrayed you. And then —sooner or later I felt that you would come, though for what purpose God knows.” “Let ns hope he does not,” he answered sardonically. “I am here on my own business, and my own business has no sanctity about it. I must keep control if I am to win through to the things I want.” “The things you want!” she echoed with deep sadness. “What are they now, Stephen?” He knelt on the marble edge of the fountain and caught her hand. “GabrleUe!” be repeated hoarsely. “GabrleUe!” She looked down at him. Her free hand she laid quietly upon his. “You are cruel to yourself,” she said. “Why have you come, Stephen?” “God knows. I have lied so much In all these ghastly years, GabrleUe. I have lied most of all to my own conscience. I have called you an episode —a folly. I have heaped contempt on you, on my memory of you, and always you have risen as now—the one pure thing that I have loved, my one virtue, my own fidelity—” “Hush, Stephen, we have buried our dead.”

“Yon have —I cannot I tried. At first it was remorse that would not let me—the knowledge that I have ruined you—dishonored you—•” "That is not true,” she interrupted proudly. "No woman —no man—dial ever been dishonored by one action. Honor is not a possession to be lost or broken. It is ourselves —what we are. If you had dishonored me I should be different; but I am not different. I have grown stronger—that is all. I see clearer. lam happy.” “Happy? And your name—your position —your people—all lostl” She smiled faintly. “Those griefs are old an - healed, Stephen. I have a name and a position. They are my own, and I am a little proud of them. I owe you my knowledge of myself and my own strength—some hoars’ illusion, a broader outlook, a deeper understanding of other women’s failures. Let that suffice between ns—” “I cannot.” He sprang up with a wild gesture of protest “It is not remorse that haunts me. I am not die man to feel remorse. I half loved and half despised yon. Then —that night when I came back and found that yon knew me for what I was—a liar, a cheat a common spy, to be bought and sold by every man —and had left me on the very eve of my atonement to yon—then I knew my own madness. From that boar I wanted you.” “It’s too late, Stephen,” she said, “too late. I have burled my dead, dear. I cannot call the dead to life. We are free and we stand atone. We must go our ways, Stephen.” “I won’t plead, GabrleUe. I know you better.” Then suddenly be turned and stumbled blindly Into toe darkness of toe passageway.

CHAPTER XI. Behind the Mosque. Colonel Destinn rode through Sidl-bel-Abbes, and many of those he passed looked after him. One or two of his observers were soldiers wearing a red and blue uniform of the Legion. They saluted first and grimaced only after a cautious Interval. “Norn d’un Petard! Will the devil never grow old?”

Women looked after him—AraD women from behind mysterious veils, and Europeans—all with the same feminine Interest in what Is strong. For Colonel Destlnn sat his horse with grace and ease, and the slight erect figure carried the years lightly. How many the years were no one knew. Thus he rode slowly through the pleasant shaded avenues, skirting the nigger quarter, till he reached the plateau. There he drew rein, his keen eyes sweeping the low girdle of olive trees and clustering native hovels to the far side, where the mosque rose up in stately purity against the turquoise sky. Through the graceful archway a double line of Arabs drifted backward and forward in a soft-flowing, unbroken stream of worship, and suddenly Colonel Destlnn set spurs and galloped over the hard clay, scattering the stragglers to right and left “Madame Arnaud!” She turned with a little start of surprise, and freeing herself from the cumbersome red slippers which encased her infidel feet, she came to meet him, her hand outstretched in gracious welcome. "Why, Colonel Destlnn!* You!” « "There’s no one here for whom It is

necessary to play comedy,” he answered with brutal directness. “You had my note?” “Yes —” She crimsoned and faltered, and he swung himself to the ground, looping the bridle over hls wrist. “We must get away from the crowd,” he said in the same curt, Imperative tone. “It is fairly quiet behind the mosque. Take my arm. The .rough ground is excuse enough.” “If anyone saw us they would think—” “Nothing that is not true, madame.” She hesitated, half resentful, half afraid. “I am beginning to ask myself what is the truth, coloqpl.” “That Is what I have come to tell you.” They walked on. Overhead, from the high towers of the mosque, an Arab chant drifted down to them through the quiet air—“l extol the greatness of the Lord, of God tbe most high—" They were quite alone now. On their right the white walls sheltered them; to the left the open sunscorcbed plateau. Colonel Destlnn stood still and faced hls companion. “Well,” he said, “have you nothing to say to me?” "I?” She lifted her lustrous brown eyes to hls in simple inquiry. “What should I have to say?” “Your husband Is safe.” “Ob, Desire! Yes, I had forgotten about it almost It was an accident He thought I was about to be attacked. He la so nervous and excitable, and the night was dark. He explained it all—” • “Yes, Captain Arnaud explained everything.” There was a block of stone beside him and he 'set hls foot upon It, leaning forward so that their faces were on I level. “Madame Arnaud! Do you really think I believe you or In you? My child, if your husband had acted as you say, he would have been cashiered for an Intoxicated Incapable; but he gave me hls explanation. It was an explanation which men among themselves —some men—understand and accept—madness on account of a woman. I let your busband go free. Do you thank me?” She made no answer. The graceful knowledge of her power was gone. Her eye* bung on hls with the blankness of a will to abeyance. “You do not thank me,” he went on deliberately. “You would like to' You would like to play the role of the faithful wronged wife. But I am the one person before whom you cannot act, either to yourself or to others. I have seen through you, and yonr little shallow soul knows it All artifice between us is useless. Do not move —stay there!” He caught her hands and held them to a grip of Iron.

Will Sylvia be strong enough to resist the fierce, fire of eensual temptation which Colonel Destlnn holds to her scorching soul? WIN she fail Into a moral abyss?

(TO Bm CONTINUED.t

“Those Griefs Are Old and Healed, Stephen.”