Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 252, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 March 1923 — Page 8

8

Alice of Old Vincennes By Maurice Thompson COPYRIGHT, 19 08, BY ALICE LEE THOMPSON

BEGIN HERE ALICE and JEAN were the luster children of GAS I* AHD ROUSSILLON, who, in the absence of b military commander, was regarded as chiei of Vincennes in the seventies. A bottle of fine brandy sent to LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR ABBOTT was stolen by LONG HAIR, an Indian. He escaped after being badly shot and wa9 secretly nursed back to health by FATHER BERET, a Catholic priest, and Alice, who discovered him. Roussillon, upon returning from a trading expedition, brought as a present for Alice, a bead charm string supposed to orotect the wearer from harm by an enemy. Alice approves the attentions of •HEBE DE IIONVILLE. a handsome youth of the village, but she has a jealous rival in the heartless MLLE. ANIRIENNE BOURCTER. GO ON WITH THE STORY IKE whom, for example?’' and she tossed her bright JLj head. “Not me, I am sure.” “Poh! like every pretty maiden In the whole world, ma petite coquette; they're ail alike as peas, cruel as blue jays and as sweet as apple-blossoms." He stroked her hair clumsily with his large hand, as a heavy and roughly fond man is apt to do, adding in an almost serious tone: “But my little girl Is better than most of them, not a foolish mischiefmaker, I hope.” Alice was putting her head through the string of beads and letting the translucent white disc fall into her bosom. "It's time to change the subject,” she said; "tell me what you have seen while away. I wish I could go far off and see things. Have you been to Detroit, Quebec, Montreal?” "Yes, I've been to all, a long, hard journey, but reasonably profitable. You shall have a goodly dot when >ou get married, my child.” “And did you attend any parties end bails?” she Inquired quickly. Ignoring his concluding remark. “Tell me about them. How do the fine adies dress, and do they wear their lair high with great big combs? Do .hey have long skirts and —” “Hold up, you double-tongued chatterbox?’ he interrupted; “I can’t answer forty questions at once. Yes, I danced till my legs ached with women old and girls young; but how could I remember how they were dressed and what their style or coiffure was? I know that silk rustled and there was a perfume of eau de Cologne and mignonette and my heart expanded and blazed while I whirled like a top with a sweet lady in my arms.” “Yes, you must have cut a ravishing figure:” interpolated Madame Roussillon with emphatic disapproval, her eyes snapping. “A bull in a lace shop. How delighted the ladies must have been!" “Never saw such blushing faces and burning glances such fluttering oreasts. such —” •*Big braggart.” Madame Roussillon oroke in contemptuously, “it’s a piastre to a sou that you stood gawping in through a v. indow while gentlemen and ladies did the dancing. I can imagine how you looked —I can.’” and with this she took her prodigious bulk at a waddling gait out of the room. “I remember how you danced even when you were not clumsy as a pig on ice?' she shrieked hack over her shoulder. “Parbleu! true- enough, my dear,” he called after her, “I should think you could—you mind how we used to trip It together. You were the prettiest dancer of them all. and the young fellows all went to the swords about you!" “But tell me more,” Alice Insisted; "I want to know all about what you saw In the great towns —in the fine houses—how the ladies looked, how they acted—what they said—the dresses they wore—how—” “Clel! you will split my ears, child: can’t you fill my pipe and bring it to me ■with a coal on it? Then I’ll try to tell you what I can,'.’ he cried, assuming a humorously resigned air. “Perhaps if I smoke I can remember everything.” Alice gladly ran to do what he asked. Meantime Jean was out on the gallery biowing a flute that M. Roussillon had brought him from Que

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The pipe well filled and lighted apparently did have the effect to steady and encourage M. Roussillon’s memory; or If not his memory, then his imagination, which was of that fervid and liberal sort common to natives of the Midi, and which has been exquisitely depicted by the late Alphonse Daudet in Tartarin and Bompard. He leaned far back in a strong chair, with his massive legs stretched at full length, and gazed at the roofpoles while he talked. He sympathized fully, in his crude way, with Alice's lively curiosity, and his affection for her made him anxious to appease her longing after news from the great outside world. If the sheer truth must come out. however, he knew precious little about that world, especially the polite part of It In which thrived those femininities so dear to the heart of an isolated and imaginative girl. Still, as he, too, lived in Arcadia, there was no great effort involved when he undertook to blow a dreamer’s flute. In the first place he had not been In Quebec or Montreal during his absence from home. Most of the time he had spent disposing of pelts and furs at Detroit and In extending his trading relations with other posts; but what mattered a trifling want of facts when his meridional fancy once began to warm up? A smattering of social knowledge, gained at first hand In his youthful days in France while he was a student whose parents fondly expected him to conquer the world, came to his aid. and besides he had saturated himself ali his life with poetry and romance. Scudery, Scarron, Prevost, lime. La Fayette and Cal* prenede were the chief sources of his information touching the life and manners, morals and gayeties of people who, as he supposed, stirred the surface of that resplendent and faroff ocean called society. Nothing suited him better than to smoke a pipe and talk about what he had seen and done; and the less he had really seen and done the more he had to tell. His broad, almost over-virile, kindly and contented face beamed with the warmth of wholly Imaginary recollections while he recounted with minute circumstantiality to the delighted Alice his gallant adventures m ihe crowded and brilliant ballrooms of the French-Canadian towns. The rolling burr of his bass voice, deep and resonant. gave force to the improvised de scriptions. Madame Roussillon heard the heavy booming and presently came softly back into the door from the kitchen to listen. She leaned against the facing in an attitude of ponderous attention, a hand c-n her bulging hip. She could not suppress her un bounded admiration of her liege lord’s manly physique, and Jealous to fierceness as she was of his ex perience so eloquently and picturesquely related, her woman’s nature took fire with enjoyment of the scenes described. This is the mission of the poet and the romancer—to sponge out of existence, for a time, the stiff, refractory, and unlovely realities and give in their place a scene of Ideal mobility and charm. The two women reveled in Gaspard Roussillon’s revelations. They saw the brilliant companies, the luxurious surroundings, heard the rustle of brocade and the fine flutter of laces, the hum of sweet voices, breathed in the wafts of costly perfumeries, looked on while the dancers whirled and flickered In the confusion of lights; and over all and through all poured and vibrated such ravishing music as only the southern Imagination could have conjured up out of nothing. Alice was absolutely charmed She sat on a low wooden stool and gazed into Gaspard Roussillon’s face with (.Hating eyes In which burned that rich and radiant something we call a passionate soul. She drank In his flamboyant stream of words with a thirst which nothing but experience could ever quench. He felt her silent applause and the admiring In voluntary absorption that possessed his wife: the consciousness of his elementary magnetism augmented the flow of his fine descriptions, and he went on and on. until the arrival of Father Beret put an end to it all. The priest, hearing of M. Roussillon’s return, had come to inquire ’bout some friends living at Detroit, le took luncheon with the family, enying the downright refreshing ' llation of broiled birds, onions, mealkes and claret, ending with a dish r blackberries and cream. M. Roussillon seized the first oppor’unity to resume his successful romancing, and presently In the midst ” the meal began to tell Father Beret bout what ho had ppi’n In Qiieb-c. “By the way.” he said, with expan ive casualness In his voice, "1 called "pon your old time friend and coadjutor. Father Sebastien, while up there. A noble old man. He sent you a thou -and good messages. Was mightily delighted when I told him how happy nd hale you have always been here. Ah. you should have seen his dear old •yes full of loving tears. He would walk a hundred miles to see you, he said, but never expected to In this —orld. Blessings. hlesslpgs upon dear Father Beret, was what he murmured !n my ear when we were parting. He says that he will never leave Quebec until he goes to his home above—ah!” The way In which M. Roussillon closed his little speech, his large eyes upturned, his huge hands clasped in 'rent of him. was very effective. “I am under many obligations, my ’■•on,” said Father Beret, “for what ycu tell me. It was good of you to remember my dear old friend and go to him for his loving messages to me. I am very, very thankful. Help me to another drop of wine, please.” Now the extraordinary feature of the situation that Father Beret ! had known positively for nearly five I yearn that Father Sebastien was dead j and buried. “Ah. yes,” M. Roussillon continued, pouring the claret with one hand and making a pious gesture with the other; “the dear old man loves you and prays for you: nls voice quavers whenever he speaks of you." “Doubtless he made his old joke to you about the birth-mark on my shoulder.” said Father Beret after a moment of apparently thoughtful silence. "He may have said something about It In a playful way, eh?” “True, true, why yes, he surely mentioned the same,” assented M. '.Roushis face assuming an expression confused memory; “It Was something-sly and humorous, I mi\d;

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

—-f i; NO MR DUFF ISN’T IN ) L.Z~Y^ NR PuFF. MRS PUFF jr— /THIS WAKES THE SECOND A f f HELLO- OH HELLO, 'A ! > '//M i RIGHT NOW -NO I CAN’T \ M ( THREE TIMES FOR YOU / m ( TIME YOU’VE TOLD ME —HELEN - |’VE BEEN ) <//M [ TELL VOO JUST WHERE ) W/ ) WHILE YOU WERE OUT j j{j ) THEY WERE BUSY,CENTRAL- ( SVTRVIwG To GET VoD’ / /,J ( You TAW RFACH HIM- I / ANp WANTS YOU To / W S ARE YOU SURE YOU HAVE J H\7 —^ l TFlf HIM TO CALL HIS / k CALI HER RIGHTAWAY-/ ffl \tH E RIGHT NUMBER.? % W f ( TOM, 1 RECEIVED A \ ' \ l?r£ tju, / _ —< /( -v V/ f / FROM MOTHEft U j, HOME? ALL RIGHT -V Goodbye _ HE ( J isk. ‘ { line was j H coming to visit us J

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

( /tUERLAFFIN AT l /Bout somethin ’. J i j O<ST a Tail\ (ma hasnt ( / M Y NECKS \ | Tee - MEE / amt NEEDLES’ ) / DICHV EP MAN BE J V , c ( ! MN-MN- A-A / V^^Cr.GGLE -) A TAIL OF WOE j

THEM DAVIS IS GONE FOREVER—

l THINK THAT VALGMTIA)O HAS OH JOH/V) Su v VAy I UJtSH YOO COOIO 10U£ THEM DAViI IS rne OTH&?s 6cat a hulc- uoMPe^Fut: that facc- rone w valcatiajo sivte- _ ThOSU ha A -That smux! . y / ~ y J I ;

'u,nrc" \ N\t£>-V*INTEi2. CLEARANCE 1 BR'JNO!! 5 * ' cippprf A SCWCN DOORS KN SWATTERS = c ,J,\ yttjxw Via rs pishih'S Poles U{ i thecla?kS&) f Right since you , JJ checker? ! Pat?' / CHEATED HIM- - (YoU SAY W INSTEAD OF plaW/ were GOIH'TO 1! shesgoT crackers; 7 I l aUITTRAPm 1 O s)SoCKBR £>>l y HERE till you om th' —V’ — 'ir<A l) <O2 (S' V "THROW THOSE „ l RUN? / TANARUS/ ““ // IsAj— A SINCE CLAY HANSOM, ONE OF THE TOWNS BEST CHECKER PLAYERS, LOST THIRTEEN GAME’S /N A RoHE HAS MOPED ABOUND TILL-HIS VJIEE. HAS i THREATENED .TO BREAK UP THE MID-W/NTER CHECKER TOURNAMENT J

but it just escapes my recollection. A right jolly old hoy is Father Sebasticn; indeed very amusing at times.” “At times, yes,” said Father Beret, who had no birthmark on his shoulder, and had never had one there, or on any other part of his person. “How strange!” Alice remarked, “I, too, have a mark on my shoulder—a pink spot, just like a small, flvepetaled flower. We must be of kin to each other. Father Beret.”

TILE OLD HOME TOWN —By STANLEY

The priest laughed. "If our marks are alike, that would be some evidence of kinship,” he said. "But what shape is yours, father?” "I’ve never seen it." he responded. “Never seen it! Why?” “Well, It’s absolutely Invisible," and he chuckled heartily, meantime glancing shrewdly at M. Roussillon out of the tail of his eye. “It’s on the back part of his shoulder," quickly spoke up M. Roussillon,

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“and you know priests never use look-ing-glasses. The mark is quite invisible therefore, so far as Father Beret is concerned!” “You never told me of your birthmark before, my daughter," said Father Beret, turning to Alice with sudden interest. “It may some day be good fortune to you.” “Why so. Father?” “If your family name is really Tar la ton, as you suppose from the

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inscription cm your locket, the birthmark, being of such singular shape, would probably' Identify you. It is said that these marks run regularly in families. With the miniature and the distinguishing birth-mark you have enough to make a strong case stiould you once find the right Tarieton fam lly.” “You talk as they write in novels," said Alice. “I’ve read about just such Lhlnsa in them. Wouldn't it grand

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDUNG HOUSE—By AHERN

If I should turn out to be some great personage in disguise!” The mention of novels reminded Father Beret of that terrible, book, "Marion Lescaut,” which he la4t saw in Alice's possession, and he could not refrain from mentioning it in a voice that shuddered. "Rost easy, Father Beret,” said Alice; “that is one novel 1 have found wholly Oistasteful to me. I tried to read < g' but could not do it. X HilD*

THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 1923

—By ALLMAN

—.by AJj

it aside in utter disgust. You and mother Roussillon are welcome to hide it deep as a well, for all I care. I don't enjoy reading about low, vile people and hopeless unfortunates; I like sweet and lovely heroines and strong, high-souled, brave heroes.” “Read about the blessed saints, then, my daughter; you will find in them the true heroes and hercinM of thin world,” said Father Ban*. dm Dm flantfnimU