Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 257, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 March 1923 — Page 8

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Alice of Old Vincennes By Maurice Thompson COPYRIGHT. 190 S. BY ALICE LEE THOMPSON

BEGIN HEBE CAFT LEONARD HELM ar.d LLECT. FITZIICGH BEVERLEY were sent from Kaskaskia by GEORGE ROGERS CLARK, an officer of the American Army during the Revolutionary War. to take charge of the military affair* of Vincennes on the Wabash. ALICE, the foster daughter of GASPARE ROUSSILLON, learned that LONG HAIR, a desperate Indian, was displeased on seeing the new flag of freedom which she had p.aced over the blockhouse. Both Beverley and PEBE BERET, a Catholic priest, were rescued from drowning by Gaepard Roussillon after Beverley had made a vain attempt to save Beret who had been thrown from his boa! by driftlogs. GO ON WITH TEE STORY , , T""V RING them to my house * * IJ Immediately,” M. RoussilU lon ordered, aa soon aa they were restored to con£.?*vusness: and he shook himself as a big, wet animal sometimes does, cov ering everybody near him with muddy water. Then he l ed the way with melodramatic strides. In justice to historical accuracy, there must be a trifling reform of what appeared on the face of things to be grandly true. Gaspard Roussillon actually dragged Father Beret and Lieutenant Beverley one at a time out of the eddy water and up the steep river bank. That was truly a great feat, but the hero never explained. When men arrived he was standing between the collapsed forms, panting and dripping. Doubtless he looked just as if he had dropped them from under his arms, and why shouldn’t he have the benefit of a great implication? “I’vo saved them both,” he roared; from which, of course, the ready creole Imagination Inferred the extreme of possible herclc performance. “Bring them to my house immediately,” and It was accordingly done. The procession, headed by M. Rous sillon, moved noisily, for the French tongue must shake off what comes to it on the thrill of every exciting moment. The only silent Frenchman is the dead one. Father Beret was not only well-nigh drowned, but seriously hurt. He lay for a week on a bed In M. Roussillon's house before he could sit up. Alice hung over him night and day. scarcely sleeping or eating until he was past all danger. As for Beverley, he shook nff all the effects of his struggle in a little while. Next day he was out. as wqll and strong as ever, busy with th* Affairs of his office. Nor was he less rtaapy on account of what the little advenv had east Into his experience. It to feel that one has done an unselfish a<-ed. and no young man's heart repeis the freshness of what comes to aim when u beautiful girl first enters his life. Naturally enough Alice had some thoughts of Beverley while she was eo attentively caring for Father Beret. She had never before seen a man like him. nor had she read of one. Compared with Rene -le Ronville. the best youth of her acquaintance, he was in every way superior; this was too evident for analysis; but referred to the romantic standard taken out of the novels she had read, he somehowfailed. and yet he loomed bravely In her vision, not exactly a knight of the class she had most admired, still unquestionably a hero of large pro-* portions. Beverley stepped In for a few minutes every day to see Father Beret, Involuntarily lengthening his visit by a sliding ratio as he became better acquainted. He began to enjoy the priest’s conversation, with its sly worldly wisdom cropping up through fervid religious sentiments and quaint humor. Alice must have interested him more than he wa.s fully aware of, for his eyes followed her, as she came and went, with a curious criticism of her half-savage costume and her springy* dryad-like suppleness, which reminded him of the shyest and the gracefulest wild birds, and yet a tpuch of refinement, the subtlest and best, showed in all her ways. He studied her, as he would have studied a strange, showy* and originally fragrant flower, or a bird of oddly attractive plumage. While she said little to him or to any one else in his pres ence, hp became aware of the willfulness and Joyous lightness which

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played on her nature’s changeable surface. He wondered at her influence over Father Beret, whom she controlled apparently without effort. But in due time he began to feel a deeper character, a broader intelligence, behind her superficial sauvagerle, and he found tnat she really had no mean smattering of books In the lighter vein. A little thing happened yvhich further opened his eyes and Increased the interest that her beauty and elemen- 1 tary charm of style aroused in him gradually, apace with their advancing ; acquaintanceship. Father Beret had got well and returned to his hut and his round of i spiritual duties; but Beverley came to j Roussillon place every day all the ; same. For a wonder Madame Roussillon like him, and at most times held the scolding side of her tougue when he was present. Jean, too, made friendly advances whenever opportunity afforded. Os course Alice gave him Just the frank cordiality of hospitable welcome demanded by frontier conditions. She scarcely knew whether she liked him or not; but he had j a treasury of information front which j he was enriching her with liberal carelessness day by day*. The hun , griest part of her mind was being sumptuously banqueted at his expense. Mere Intellectual greediness drew her to hint. Naturally they* soon threw off such troubling formalities as at first rose between them, and began to disclose to each other ‘heir true characteristics. Alice found in Beverley a large target for the missiles of her j clever and tantalizing perversity. He in turn practiced a native dignity and an acquired superiority* of manner to excellent effect. It was a meeting of Greek with Greek In a new* Arcadia. To him here was Diana, strong, strange, simple, even crude almost to | naturalness, yet admirably pure in spirit and imbued with highest worn anlv aspirations. To her Beverley represented the great outside area of life. He came to her from wonderland. beyond the wide circle of houseless woods and prairies. He represented gorgeous cities, teeming parks of fashion, boulevards, salons, halls of social splendor, the theater, the , world of woman's dreams. Now, there is an antagonism, vague yet powerful, generated between na *ur**s thus cast together from the op postte poles of experience and education; an antagonism practically equlv dent to the most vigorous attraction. What one knows the other is but half aware of; neither knowledge nor ig- , norance being mutual, there Is a scln dilation of exchange, from opposing vantage grounds, followed by harm iess snaps of thunder. Culture and refinement take on airs—it is the deepest artificial Instinct of enlighten ment to pose—ln the jiresenco of nat j uralness, and there is a certain stylo of Ignorance which attitudinizes be-1 fore the gate of knowledge. The return to nature has always been the dream of the conventionalized soul, while the simple Arcadian is forever I longing for the maddening honey of soph'stlcation. Innate jealousies strike together like j tiint and steel dashing off sparas by j which nearly everything that life can j warm its core withal is kindled and kept burning. What I envy In my i friend I store for my test use. I thrust and parry, not to kill. but to i learn my adversary’s superior feints end guards. And this hint of sword play leads hack to what so greatly surpiised and puzzled Boveiley oneday* when he chanced to be examining { the pair of colechemardes on the wall, j He took one down, and handling it i with the indescribable facility possible to none save a practical swordsman, remarked; “There’s a world of fascination In these things; I like nothing better than a bout at fencing. Does your father practice the art?" “I have no father, no mother." she quickly* said, “but good Papa Roussll lon does like a little exercise with the! col^chemarde." "Well. I’m glad to hear it, I shall ask to teach him a trick or two,” Beverley responded in the lightest mood. “When will he return from the woods?”

"I can't tell you; he's very irregular In such matters.” she said. Then, with a smile half banter and half challenge, she added; “If you are really dying for some exercise, you shall not have to wait for him to come home, I assure wou, Monsieur Bevereley.” “Oh, it’s Monsieur; do Ronville, perhaps, that you will offer up as a victim to my skill and address.” he slyly returned; for he was suspecting that a love affair In some stage of progress lay between her and Itene. She blushed violently, but quickly overcoming a combined rush of surprise and anger, added with an emphasis as charming as it was unexpected. ‘‘l myself am, perhaps, a swordsman enough to satisfy the impudence and vanity of Monsieur Beverley, I-leuteant in the American army.” "Pardon me, Mademoiselle; forgive me, I beg of you.” he exclaimed, earnestly modulating his voice to sinoerest beseechment; ”1 really did not mean to be impudent, nor— ’’ Her vivacity cleared with a merry laugh. "So apologies. I command you,” she interposed. “We will have them after I have taught you a fencing lesson." From a shelf she drew down a pair of foils and presenting the hilts, bade him take his choice. “There isn’t any difference between them that I know of,” she said, and then added archly; "but you will fee) better at last, when all is over and the sting of defeat tingles through you, if you are conscious of having used every sensible precaution.” He looked straight into her eyes, trying to catch what was -in her mind, but there was a bewildering glamor playing across those gray, •pal-tinted wells of mystery, from which he could draw onl> a mischievous smile-glint, direct, daring, lr- I resistible. "Well,” he said, taking one of the j foils, “what do you really mean? Is ; it a challenge without room for lion- i orable retreat?” “The time for parley is past,” she replied; “follow me to the battleground." She led the way to a pleasant little court In the rear ?t the cabin’s yard, i space between j two wings and a vine-covered trellial. beyond which lay a 'well-kept vineylrd and vegetable

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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( “ “ | WAG A'. WHUTFO IS J fA4 ALLUS DOES DAT px - \VO COVAH OP MO \ [ WEN AH KNOWS DEVS \ TP nyj, EVES LIKE DAT FOR V C;fONKIA Qt A ACCIDENT, Y/y % \ V *T' SEE AnnGODM GhT J OLE LIZ. \ /S *\ ~=- If' S _ \ A a? ... ~ ' ' ** I* ' WASH FUNK FIGURES WHAT TOO DOnT SEE , WONT LEAVE. ANY UMPLEASANT MEMORIES , sFKvii k y

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iS#bi^nnrinnflflOO ® V 4" - _ mni'wnnnOD 00 Du MARSHAL OTEY WALKER. SPENT A GOOp HALF HOUR LOOKING FOR THE OVER SHOES HE AND AUNT SARAH , PEABODY LOST IN THE PUDDLE ON LOWER. BEACH STREET _-_LJ ~ V TWAS TIME WASTED- NE.A SERVICE =-7

garden. Here she turned about and faced him, poising her foil with a tine grace. “Are you ready?” she inquired. He tried again to force a way into the depths of her eyes with his; but he might as well have attacked the sun; so he stood in a confusion of not very well defined feelings, undecided, hesitating, half expecting that there would be some laughable turn to end the affair.

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

"Are you afraid. Monsieur Beverley?" she demanded after a short waiting in silence. He laughed now and whipped the air with his' foil. "You certainly are not In earnest?" he said interrogatively. "Do you really mean that you want to fance with me?” “If you think, because I’m only a girl, you cap easily beat me, try it,” she tauntingly replied, making a

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level thrust toward his breast. Quick its he flash he parried, and then a merry clinking and twinkling of steel blades kept time to their swift movements. Instantly, by the sure sense which is half sight, halffeeling—the sense that>guides the expert fencer’s hand and wrist—Beverley knew that he had probably more than his match, and in ten seconds Ills attack was met by a time thrust in opposition which touched

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him sharply. Alice sprang far back, lowered her point and laughed. “Je vous salue, Monsieur Beverley!” she cried, with childlike show of delight. “Did you feel the button?” “Yes, I felt It,” he said with frank acknowledgment in his voice, "it was cleverly done. Now give a chance to redeem myself.” He began more carefully and found that she, too, was on her "best mettle;

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

but It was a short bout, as before. Alice seemed to give him an easy opening and he accepted it with a thrust; then something happened that he did not understand. The point of his foil was somehow caught under his opponent's hilt-guard while her blade seemed to twist around his; at the same time there was a wring and a jerk, the like of which he had never before felt, arid he was disarmed, his wrist and ringers aching with the

MARCH 7, 1923

—By AL POSEN

wrench they had received. . Os course the thing was not new; he had been disarmed before; hut her trick of doing it was quite a mystery to him, altogether different from any that he had ever seen. “Vous me pardonnerez. Monsieur,” she mockingly exclaimed, picking up his weapon and offering the hilt to him. "Here is your sword.” (To Be CunnniuKki

—By ALLMAN