Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 258, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 March 1923 — Page 8

8

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

BEGIN lIKMC CAPTAIN LEONARD HELM and LIEUT. FITSZUUGH BEVERLEY were sent from K-.a-Kia by GEORGE HOOKES CLARK, an ofiiecr of the American army dining Use H<' iitionary War, to take charge ot the military affairs of Vincennes on the Wabash. ALICE, the foster daughter of GASPARD ROUSSILLON, learned that LONG HAIR, a desperate Indian, was displeased on seeing the new flag of freedom which -she had placed over the bloekhons • Alice and Bereriy find pleasure in each others company and iq ' irietidly fencing bout Alices proves mors, than a match for Beverly. , TT HEP it,” he said,'folding his arms and trying to 1 look unconcerned, “you have captured it fairly. I am at your mercy: he kind to me.” Madame Roussillon and Jean, the hunchback, hearing the racket of the foils had come out to see and were standing agape. “You ought to be ashamed. Alice,” said the dame in scolding approval of what she had done; “girls do not fence with gentlemen.” "This girl does,” said Alice “And with extreme disaster to* this gentleman,” said Beverley, laughing in a tone of discomfiture and resignation. “Ah, Mo’sieu,’ there’s nothing but disaster where she goes,” complained Madame Roussillon, “she Is a destroyer of everything. Only yesterday she dropped my pink bowl and broke it. the only one I had.” “And just to think,” said Beverley, “what would have been the condition of my heart had we been using rapiers instead of leather-buttoned foils! She would have spitted it through the very center.”

“Like enough,” replied the dame indifferently. “She wouldn’t wince, either —not she.” Alice ran into the house with the foils and Beverley followed. “We must try it over again some day soon,” he said; “I find that you can show me a few points. Where did you learn to fence so admirably? Is Monsieur Roussillon your master?” "Indeed he isn't,” she quickly replied, "he Is but a bungling swordsuan. My master —but I am not at Iberty to tell you who has taught :ne the little I know.” “Weil, whoever he is I should be jjlad to have lessons from him.” “But you'll never get them.” “Why?” “Because.” “A woman’s ultimatum.” “As good as a man's!” she bridled prettily; "and sometimes better —at the foils for example. Yous—comprenez, n’est ce pas?” He laughed heartily. “Yes, your point reaches me,” he said, “but sperat et in sa-sva victim gladiatur arena, as the old Latin poet wisely remarks.” The quotation was meant to tease her. “Yes, Montaigne translated that or something In his book,” she commented with prompt erudition. “I understand it.” Beverley looked amazed. “What do you know about Mon-

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taigne?” he demanded with a blunt brevity amounting to something like gruffness. “Sh\ Moilsieur, not too loud,” she softly protested, looking around to see that neither Madame Roussillon nor Jean had followed them into the main room. “It is not permitted that I read that old book; but they do not hide it; from me. because they think I can’t make out Its dreadful spalling.” She smiled so that her cheeks drew their dimples deep Into the delicately tinted pink-and-brown, where wind and sun and wholesome exercise had set the seal of absolute health, and took from a niche in the logs of the wall a stained and dog-eared volume. He looked, and it was, indeed, the old saint and sinner, Montaigne. Involuntarily he ran his eyes over the girl from head to foot, comparing her show of knowledge with the outward badges of abject rusticity, and even wildness, with which she was covered. “Well,” he said, “you are a mystery.” “You think it surprising that I can read a book! Frankly I can’t understand half of this one. I read it because—well just because they want me to read about nothing but sickly old saints and woe-begone penitents. I like something lively. What do I c.-tro for ail that uninteresting religious stuff?” “Montaigne is decidedly lively in spots,” Beverley' remarked. "I shouldn’t think a girl—l shouldn't think you’d particularly enjoy' his humors.” "I don’t cure for the book at all,” she said, flushing quickly, “only I seem to learn about the world from It. Sometimes it seems as if it lifted me up high above all this wild, lonely and tiresome country, so that I can see far off where things are different and beautiful. It Is the same with the novels; and they don’t permit me to read them either; but all the same I do.” When Beverley, taking his leave, passed through the gate at Roussillon place, he met Rene De Ronville going in. It was a notable coincidence that earh young man felt something troublesome rise in his throat as he looked into the other’s eyes. A week of dreamy autumn weather came on, during which Beverly managed to be with Alice a great deal, mostly sitting on the Roussillon gallery, where the facing vine leaves made fairy whispering, and where the tempered breeze blew deliciously cool from over the distant multi-colored woods. The men of Vincennes were gathering their Indian corn early to dry it on the cob for grating into win ter meal. Many women made wine from the native grapes and from 11:<* sweeter and rich fruit of imported vines. Madame Roussillon and Alice stained their hands a deep purple during the dressing season, and Beverley found himself engaged in helping them handle the juicy crop, while around the overflowing earthen pots the wild bees, wasps and hornets hummed with an Incessant, jarring monotony. Jean, the hunckback, gathered imple stores of hickory nuts, walnuts, hazelnuts and pin-oak acorns. In deed, the whole population of the village made a gTeat spurt of Industry just before the falling of winter; and presently, when every preparation had been completed for the dreaded cold season. M. .Roussillon carried out his long-cherished plan, and gave a great party at the river house. After the most successful trading experience of all his life he felt irrepressibly liberal. “Let’s have one more roaring good time,” he said, "that’s what life is for.”

CHAFTER VII BEVERLEY was so surprised and confused in his mind by the ease with which he had been mastered at sword-play by a mere girl that he felt as if just coming out of a dream. In fact the whole affair seemed unreal, yet so vivid and im pressive in all its main features, that he could not -emerge from It and look it calmly over from without. His ex perlence with women had not prepared him for a ready understanding and acceptance of a girl like Alice. While he was fully aware of her beauty, freshness, vivacity and grace, this Amazonian strength of hors, this boldness of spirit, tills curious mixture of frontier crudeness and a certain adumbration —so to call it —of patrician sensibilities and aspirations, affected him both pleasantly and un-' pleasantly. He did not sympathize promptly with her semi-barbaric costume; she seemed not gently feminine, as compared with the girls of Virginia and Maryland. Ho resented her muscular development and her Independent disposition. She was far from coarseness, however, and, indeed, a trace of subtle refinement, although not conventional. Imbued her whole character. But why was he thinking so critically ahout her? Had his selfishness received an incurable shock from ‘he button of her foil? A healthy young man of the right sort Is apt to be jealous of his physical prowess—touch him there and he will turn the world over to right himself *n his own admiration and yours. But to he beaten on his highest ground of virility by a dimple faced maiden just leaving her teens could not offer Beverley any open way to recoupment of damages. He tried to' shake her out of his mind, as a hit of pretty and trouble some rubbish, what time he pursued his not very exacting military’ duties. But the more he shook the tighter she clung, and the oftener he went to see her. Helm was a good officer in many respects, and his patriotism was of the best; but he liked jolly company, a glass of something strong and a large share of ease. Detroit lay many miles northeastward across the wilderness. and the English, he thought, would scarcely come so far to attack his little post, especially now that most of the Indians in the intervening country had declared in favor of the Americans. Recently, too. the weather had been favoring him by changing from wet to dry, so that the upper Wabash and its tributaries were falling low and would soon be very difficult to navigate with large batteaux. Very little was dene to repair the stockade and dilapidated remnai\t of a blockhouse. There were no sufficient barracks, a mere shed In itno angle serving for quarters, and

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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old cannon could not have been used to any effect in case of attack. As for the garrison, it was a nominal quantity, made up mostly of men who preferred hunting and fishing to the merest pretense of military duty. C.aspard Roussillon assumed to know everything about Indian affairs .and the condition of the- English at Detroit. His optimistic eloquence lulled Heim to a very pleasant sense of security. Beverly was not so easy to

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN —By STANLEY

satisfy; but his suggestions regarding military discipline and a vigorous prosecution of repairs to the blockhouse and stockade were treated with dilatoiy geniality by his superior officer. The soft wonder of a perfect Indian summer glorified land, river and sky. Why not dream and bask? Why not drink exhilarating toddles?,. Meantime the entertainment to bo given by Ga.sptird Roussifioa occupied everybody’s imagination to an unusual

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

extent. Rene Do Ronville, remembering but not heeding the doubtful success of his former attempt, went long beforehand to claim Alice as his partenaire, but she flatly refused him, once more reminding him of his obligations to little Adrienne Bourcier. He would not be convinced. “You are bound to me," he said, “you promised before, you know, and the party was but put off. _I hold you to if; you are my partenaire, and

Meeting Strong Competition

* * Merrily We Roll Along”

I t am yours, you can’t deny that.” "No you are not my partenaire,” she firmly said; then added lightly, “Ecu mon partenaire, you are dead and buried as my partner at that dance.” He glowered in silence for a few moments, then said: j “It is Lieutenant Beverley, I sup. pose.” ! She gave him a quick contemptuous look, but turned it instantly into on^

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

of her tantalizing smiles. “Do you imagine that?” she demanded. "Imagine It! I know it,” he said with a hot flush. “Have I no sense?” “Precious little,” she replied with a merry laugh. “You think so.” "Go to Father Beret, tell him everything, and then ask him what he thinks,” she said In a oalin, even tone, her face growing serious.

THURSDAY, MARCH 8, 1923

—By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN

There was an awkward silence. She had touched Rene’s vulnerable spot; he was nothing if not a devout Catholic, and his conscience rooted itself in what good Father Beret had taught him. (To Be Continued.) The ocean’s depth at any point can be ascertained now by echoes obtained through the instruments used during the war to locate submarines.