Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 249, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 February 1923 — Page 8

Alice of Old Vincennes By Maurice Thompson

Betin Here GASPARD ROUSSILLON, a French trader, and his wife settled in Vincennes on the Wabash in the seventies. ALICE and JEAN were the adopted children of the ROUSSILLON'S. A letter from France is delivered by RENE DE RONVIILE. a wiry and active young man of the settlement to FATHER BEEF ' j -lathono priest Deeply moved by tv. i-. ..ory of his youth, he feels that to read the letter would weaken his determination to remain with his life work as a. missionary %;d without ope rung the letter tears it intoviny bits. GO ON WITH THE STORY. Meantime. Rene and Ron vine had delivered Madame Roussillon’s leter with due promptnesso Os course, such a service demanded pie and claret. What still better pleased him, Alice chose to be more amiable than was usually her custom when he called. They sat together In the main room of the house where M. Roussillon kept his books, his curiosities of Indian manufacture collected here and there, and his surplus firearms, swords, pistols, and knives, ranged not unpleasingly the walls. Os course, along with the letter, Rene bore the news, so interesting to himself, of the boat's tempting cargo just discharged at the river house. Alice understood her friend's danger—felt it in the intense enthusiasm of his voice and manner. She had once seen the men carousing on a similar occasion when she was but a child, and the impression then made still remained in her memory. Instinctively she resolved to hold Rene by one means or another away from the river house if possible. So she managed to keep him occupied eating pie, sipping watered claret and chatting until night came on and Madame Roussillon brought in a lamp. Then he hurridly snatched his cap from the floor beside him and got up to go. “Come and look at my handiwork," Alice quickly said; “my shelf of pies, I mean." She led him to the antry, where a dozen or more of the cherry' pates wei ranged in order. “I made every one of them this morning and baked them; had them all out of the oven before the r&in came up. Don’t you think me a wonder of cleverness and industry? Father Beret was polite enough to flatter me; but you you Just eat what you want and say nothing! You are not polite. Monsieur Rene de Ronville.” “I've been showing you what I thought of your goodies.” said Rene; “eating's better than talking, you know; so I’ll Just take one more,' arid he helped himself. “Isn't that compliment enough?” “A few such would make me another hot day’s work,” she replied, laughing. “Pretty talk would be cheaper and more satisfactory in the long run. Even the flour in these pates I ground with my own hand in an Indian mortar. That was hard work, too.” By this time Rene had forgotten the river house and the liquor. With softl ping eyes he gazed at Alice's roundl and cheeks and sheeny hair over which '.he light from the curious earthen lamp she bore in her hand flickered most effectively. He loved her madly, but his fear of her was more powerful 'ihan his love. She gave him no op HOTtunlty to speak what he felt, having ever ready a quick, bright change of mood and manner when she saw him plucking up courage to address her in a sentimental way. Their relations had long been somewhat familiar, which was but natural, considering their youth and the circumstances of their dally life: but Alice somehow had kept a certain distance open between them, so that very warm friendship could not suddenly resolve itself into a troublesome passion on Rene’s part. We need not attempt to analyze a young girl’s feeling and motives in such a case; what she does and what she thinks are mysteries even to her own understanding. The influence most potent in shaping the rudimentary character of Alice Tarleton (called Rouissillon) had been only such as a lonely frontier post could generate. Her associations with men and women had, with few exceptions, been unprofitable in an educational way, while her reading in M. Rouissillon’s little library could not have given her any practical knowledge of manners and life. She was fond of Rene de Ronville, and it would have been quite in accordance with the law of ordinary human forces, indeed almost the in-

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evitable thing, for her to love and marry him in the fullness of time; but her imagination was outgrowing her surroundings. Books had given her a world of romance wherein she moved at will, meeting a class of people far different from those who actually shared her experiences. Her daydreams and her night-dreams partook much more of what she had read and imagined than of what she had seen and heard in the raw little world around her. Her affection for Rene was interfered with by her large admiration for the heroic, masterful and magnetic knights who charged through the romances of the Roussillon collection. For although Rene was unquestionably brave and more than passing handsome, he had no armor, no war horse, no shining lance and embossed shield—the difference, indeed, was great. Those who love to contend against the fatal drift of our age toward overeducation could find in Alice Tarleton, foster daughter of Gaspard Roussilon, a primitive example, an elementary case in point. What could her book education do but set up stumbling blocks In the path of happiness? She was learning to prefer the ideal to the real. Her soul was developing itself as best it could for the enjoyment of conditions and things absolutely foreign to the possibilities of her lot In life. Perhaps it was the light and heat of imagination, shining out through Alice’s face, which gave her beautv such a fascinating power. Rene saw it and felt Its electrical stroke send a sweet shiver through his heart, while he stood before her. “You are very beautiful tonight, Alice,” he presently said, with a sud-“ aenness which took even her alertness by surprise. A flush rose to his dark face and immediately gave way to a grayish pallor. His heart came near stopping on the instant, he was so shocked by his own daring; but he laid a hand on her hair, stroking it softly. * Just a moment she was at a loss, looking a trifle embarrassed, then ith a merry' laugh she stepped aside and said; "That sounds better. Monsieur Rene de Ronville much better; you will be as polite as Father Beret after a little more training.” She slipped past him while speaking ana made her way back again to the main room, whence she called to him: “Come here, I’ve something to show you.” He obeyed, a sheepish trace on his countenance betraying his self-con-sciousness. When he cam near Alice she was taking from its buckhorn hook on the wall a rapier, one of a beautiful pair hanging side by side. “Papa Roussillon gave me these,” *he said with great animation. “He bought them of an Indian and who had kept them a long time, where 1 e came across them he would not tell; but look how beautiful’ Did you ever see anything so fine?” Guard and hilt were of silver; the blade, although somewhat corroded, still showed the fine wavy lines of Damascus steel and traces of delicate engraving, while in the end of the hilt was set a large oval turquoise. “Avery queer present to give a girl,” said Rene; “what can you do with them?” A captivating flash of playfulness came into her face and she sprang Backward, giving the sword a semicircular turn with her wrist. The Wade sent forth a keen hiss as it cut the air close, very close to Rene’s nose. He Jerked his head and flung up his hand. She laughed merrily, standing beautifully poised before him, the rapier’s point slightly elevated. Her short skirt left her feet and ankles free to show their graceful proportions and the perfect pose in which they held her supple body. "You see what I can do with the colechemarde, eh, Monsieur Rene de Ronville!” she exclaimed, giving him i smile which fairly blinded him. ‘Notice how very near to your neck I can thrust and yet not touch it. Now!”

She darted the keen point under his chin and drew It away so quickly that the stroke was like a glint of sunlight "TYhat do you think of that as a nice and accurate piece of skill?” She again resumed her pose, the right foot advanced, the left arm well back, her lissome, finely developed body leaning slightly forward. Rene’s hands were up before his face in a defensive position, palms outward. Just then a chorus of men’s voices sounded in the distance. The river house was beginning its carousal with a song. Alice let fall her sword’s point and listened. Rene looked about for his cap. "I must be going,” he said. Another and louder swish of the rapier made him pirouette and dodge again with great energy. “Don't,” he cried, "that’s dangerous; you’ll put out my eyes; I never saw such a girl!” She laughed at him and kept on whipping the air dangerously’ near his eyes, until she had driven him backward as far as he could squeeze himself into a corner of the room. Madame Roussillon camo to the door from the kitchen and stood looking in and laughing, with her hands on her hips. By this time the rapier was making a criss-cross pattern of flashing lines close to the young man’s head while Alice, in the enjoyment of her exercise, seemed to concentrate all the glowing rays of her beauty in her face, her eyes dancing merrily. "Quit. now. Alice,” he begged, half in fun and half in abject fear; “please quit—l surrender!” She thrust to the wall on either side of him. then springing lightly backward a pace, stood at guard. Her thick yellow hair had fallen over her neck and shoulders In a loose wavy mass, out of which her face beamed with a bewitching effect upon her captive. Rene, glad enough to have a cessation of his peril, stood laughing dryly. but the singing down at the river hoti.se was swelling louder and lie made another movement to go. “You surrendered, you remember.” cried Alice, renewing the swordplay: “sit down on thechair there and make yrurself conmrtable You are not gonig down yiSKer tonight; you

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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THEM DAYS IS GONE FOREVER—

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tire going to stay here and talk with me and Mother Roussillon; we are ionesonie and you are good company.” A shot rang out keen and clear; there was a sudden tumult that broke up the distant singing, and presently more filing at varying intervals cut the night air from the direction of the river. Jean, the hunchback, came in to say that there was a row of some sort: he had seen men running across tlie

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OJ.D HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

common as if in pursuit of a fugitive, but the moonlight was so dim that he could not l>e sure what it all nicajit. Reno picked up his cap and bolted out of the house. CHAPTER 111 THE row down at the river house was more noise than fight, so far as results seemed to indi cate. It was all about a small "dame jeanne” of fine lAtandy, which an In

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

dian by the name of Long-Hair had seized and run off with at the height of the carousal. He must have been •soberer than his pursuers, or naturally fleeter; for not one of them could catch him, or even keep long in sight, of*him. Some pistols were emptied while the race was on, and two •r three of the men swore roundly to having seen Long-Hair jump sidewise and stagger, as if one of the shots had taken effect. But, although the moon

Wilbur Has His Own Way

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“Kiss Me Again”

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was shining, he someway disappeared, they could not understand just how, far down beside the river below the fort and the church. It was not a very uncommon thing for an Indian to steal wha, he wanted, and in most cases light punishment followed conviction; but it was felt to be a capital offense for an Indian or anybody else to rape a demijohn of fine brandy, especially one sent as a present, by a friend in New Orleans,

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AIIERN

to Lieutenant Governor Abbott, who had until recently been the command ant of the post. Every man at the river house recognized and resented tlie enormity of Long-llair’a crime and each "was, for the moment, ready to be his judge and his executioner. He had broken at once every rule of frontier etiquette and every bond of sympathy. Nor was Long-Hair ignorant of the danger Involved in his

MONDAY, FEB. 26,1923

—By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN

daring enterprise. He had beforehand carefully and stolidly weighed all the conditions, and true to his Indian nature, had concluded that a little wicker-covered bottle of brandy was well worth the risk of his life. So he had put himself in condition for a great race by slipping out and getting rid of his weapons and ail surplus weight of clothes. (To Be (Jomiuued.)