The Syracuse Journal, Volume 22, Number 13, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 25 July 1929 — Page 7

I The Blade of Picardy | ®X Fred McLaughlin Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co. TV. N. U. Service

SYNOPSIS Capt. Francois de Vigny, eervIng with Maximilian’s army in Mexico, tells the story. A roystering group of officers is discussing La Anita, who, rumor says, has lured French officers to death or desertion. Summoned by M axt * mllian to make explanation. De Vigny undertakes to deliver the message to La Anita. At La Anita’s home De Vigny meets Colonel Lopez, Mexican officer and the girl’s cousin, Pablo Madrella, who bears a wonderful resemblance to De Vigny, except that he wears a beard. Angered that Anita should be called before the emperor, Madrella forces a duel on De Vigny, in which the Mexican is wounded. Assisting Madrella to his carriage, De Vigny picks up a paper that falls from his pocket. It proves to be a pass, granting Madrella passage 'hrough the Mexican lines. LaiO before Maximilian, it Is. of course, Madrella’s death warrant, since it proves him a spy. Questioned by Maximilian, La Anita denies luring French officers to danger, and is given her freedom. De Vigny secures leave of absence, planning, while Madrella is wounded and under guard, to grow a beard and impersonate him, with the idea of securing information of Juarez* movements. Dressed as Madrella, he enters La Anita’s home by stealth and overhears a conversation between Madrella and Lopez which proves the latter a traitor to Maximilian Lopez has secured Madrella’s release and the latter is leaving at once for Juarez’ camp. He reaches Cuernavaca about the same time as’the real Madrella. An unsuccessful attempt is made by Madrella to kill De Vigny. Believing him to be Madrella De Vigny is welcomed by Juarez. De Vigny saves Cuernavaca by convincing Juarez, who had planned to seize the city, that the French garrison is too strong. Jurez* suspicions are roused, and De Vigny is saved only by his possession of Madrella's pass. De Vigny’s generosity enables Pasqual to marry his sweetheart, Dolores, and the Frenchman realizes he has made two devoted friends.

CHAPTER Vlll—Continued 1 topped a tiny ridge which offered me a view of the narrow road that pointed a ribbon-like finger toward the valley. Along this road, like a great lazy snake, lay a long cloud of dust. It could mean only one thing, a body of marching men. And marching men on this road could mean naught else but reinforcements for Cuernavaca! I gave the fine his head and he swept across the sagebrush-cov-ered bench. As we raced along, my heart sang, for 1 knew that, before Benito Juarez could ’‘check up his capable Pablo’s pessimism” and jnove his army to the investment of Cuernavaca, this force would have reached the city. And I wondered, too, who had carried to Maximilian tidings of the revolutionary leader’s Intention, for, of the Imperial army, only Neville and I knew—and Neville was dead. At ail events the emperor knew, and that relieved me of my most urgent mission. My mind could build other and pleasanter pictures now. Another mile —and the vast city lay betore me. Ah, the thrill it gave mel Ages had passed since 1 had seen the city, another world had come into being—a new and beautiful world. I was not Francois de Vigny, the Blade -of Picardy, a being who had, at best, merely skimmed the surface of things; a man devoid of purpose. No ■ . . 1 had changed; even my soul had changed. Now my -eyes saw only the lovely lace of the lady who had suddenly fired my life to great endeavor, my •ears beard only the golden music of her voice, and into my life a high resolve had come. With her 1 would be frank, straightforward. With her permission 1 would tell her that I loved her; I would throw open the book of my life, that she might read If she so desired. These things I determined to do as we entered the gate of the city. As we passed her home I brought the horse to a stately trot, and then to a walk; my heart, the while, beating a suffocating tattoo against my ribs. I drank in the beauty of the bouse and the well-kept garden. I did not notice, at first, a figure that stood behind the huge Iron gate, the slim, purple-clad figure of a woman who looked tall—and wasn’t. She waved her hand, and 1 pulled my mount to a snail’s pace, reaching for my ° cap and bowing as well as •one in such a posture might. Now, watching the slim, waving and hoping against hope, 1 imagined that It beckoned, so I turned the horse’s head and dropped to the curb. She extended a hand between the bars, and I held It so long that she drew it gently back again. “It is good to see you out," said she, “after ,your illness." "My illness was nothing, senorita; less than a trifle.” This, beyond a doubt, was the truth. “It was very find ot you to ask about me.” “But smallpox,” said she, a sweet anxiety In the amber eyes, “can never be considered a trifle.” Her glance took in the bruises on my face. “How atrangely it has marked you 1” I laughed, my back against the wall ot my own unpreparedness. "Smallpox did not do that, senorita. My face has been a target for every fist in the state of Morelos." “Are you jesting, captain, or do you speak in parables? We are not in the state of Morelos." “Perhaps It Is the barrier of the fate,” said I. I considered the house. •“1 am forbidden entrance to that beautiful home, senoritd; does your prohibition extend also to the grounds, to the gardens?" Now drew the Iron bolt and 1

pushed the massive gate open. We walked along the narrow graveled path. “You were good to me that day before the emperor, captain, and I would thank you.” She found a fancifully carved stone bench beside an arbor of red and white roses. “You will iJI me now. Captain de Vigny, about the fists of Morelos.” “There is so much to tell; besides, senorita, 1 would tell you of other things—things of vaster portent-” My voice trembled. “If you would lead up to' your story of the fists . . . lam listening.” “As 1 rode this afternoon from Cuernavaca—” I began. She had raised a band as though to stop me, or to interrupt, but changed her mind. The news of my having been in Cuernavaca must have surprised her. “I came to certain momentous decisions.” “Ah—so?” “Indeed,” I continued; “1 decided first that 1 would tell the Senorita Arrellanos that 1 love her." “On your way from Cuernavaca —“ she mused. Slim fingers twisted in her lap. t “Yes; and that 1 love her." She laughed softly. “How many French officers —think you, senor—have told ine of their love?” A deep passion came into her voice: “Do you not realize my helplessness tn this great city, which writhes under tb.e heel of the emperor; can you not see that, because o? the evil powe’ of his majesty, my father and my mother have been taken from me; that, when a French officer tells me that he loves me. I must—?” “I am sorry, senorita; I did not understand. In my heart you will reign for ever, for I have put you among the angels, but no word of love from me —” Tears came into her eyes; she raised a ijand blindly, and 1 took it, and kissed—very slowly and thoroughly_each finger: then 1 loosed it “You will trust me—is ii not so? The word of a De Vigny, senorita. is a thing not easily broken.” She nodded; and nodding, smiled again. "If my bitterness, senor. seems an unnatural thing in a woman 1 must justify it because of my great loss. This country is ours, it cannot belong to Europe; and if I wage my fight with a woman's weapons am I more worthy of blame than a man who fights with the weapons that God has given him? "You offer service to your France, senor. because you deem it your duty; do 1 owe any less service or any less duty to my own country? Must L being a woman, sit idly by while a foreign nation uses up the wealth of this, my country; bringing good patriots to mockeries of trial and certain executions? The wealth of my father. Amador Arrelanos, was measured in millions. Will all that now belongs to me gain in value un der the reign of the emperor? Can you blame me if I strive to hold my own ?” 1 shook my head, dazed at her outburst; and amazed, too, because 1 had begun to see the motives behind some of the acts of Colonel Lopez. The wily colonel had been responsible for the trial and execution of La Anita’s father, and he had made no secret of his suit for her hand. A little light was beginning to show in the dark ness. Yet 1 could not tel) her until I was certain. She dashed the tears from her eyes. “Because of what your emperor has dene to my father he will some da.\ stand before a squad of Mexican sol diers. His insane striving for power can lead him only to the grave. Benito Juarez will soon he master of Mexico; and when that day comes, senor. Maximilian’s doom is sealed! 1 can see it as clearly as though the thine had already happened. Ah—senor. the men of France have shown me doubtful chivalry! If, because of their stupid infatuation, I choose to use them—” “Is It stupid, senorita? My own Infatuation has filled my life with a new and spiritual glory—” “1 have not tried to use you, cap tain; and your thoughts of me are things that I cherish in my heart 1 would not try to use you. For France and your emperor you stood up before the pistol of my cousin, knowing certain death awaited you. There is no price that can be put upon a man. who, because of a sense of duty, can reach such sublime heights of cour age.” “It’s all in the day’s work.” I said, though her praise was sweet. “To maintain the De Vigny standard will take all the courage I possess, for some of my ancestors have written their names large on the scroll of history.” “That make me wonder how It hap pens that you look so much like Pab 10. Does not so striking a resem blance indicate certain relationship?” “Either that," said I, “or uncertain relationship. My great-grandfather, after whom 1 was named, and whose image—by some grotesque physiological turn—has been banded down to me, was, of course a royalist, as De Vignys have ever been. When the revolution broke he fled France and came to Mexico, where, in a very few years, he put together quite a fortune, dealing in precious stones." “You think, then, senor, that your great-grandfather— ?” 1 laughed defensively. “1 cannot find It tn my heart to apologize for so bsave and fascinating a gentleman. Even now, In old Picardy, interesting tales are told—" “Interesting tales, senor,” said she with a smile, “are told about man only when women—" “Exactly, senorita; It may have been because be handled jewels." *

* “Valiant service, senor,” she sAd softly, “is a great jewel. I think I rather like your great-grandfather.” But it was my very earnest desire to get back to Lopez, whose dual position as virtual chief of staff under Maximilian and persona grata in the house of Arrellanos boded ill for one or the other. "How long, senorita. have you known Miguel Lopez?” Now her startled eyes sought my face. "Since 1 was a child, senor; he worked many years for my father, managing several of his ventures.” “Does it nyt seem strange to you. senorita, that Miguel Lopez, standing high in the estimation of his majesty, could not save your father?” ' “He tried, senor—and failed. He was heartbroken." Explaining the perfidy of Colonel Lopez could only have added to her unhappiness. With her father removed, Lopez doubtless Imagined that the petty persecutions—secretly sos tered by himself —might throw her into his arms. To me the plan was very simple, yet I knew that, to explain it to La Anita, would—because of her incredulity—be a thing of vast difficulty. “You are silent, senor; and you promised to tell me about those bruises on your face—and the fists of Morelos. Do you remember?” Now I looked deep into the clear amber eyes and I found a frank friendliness. I longed to take her In my arms, to . hold the dear form In close, passionate embrace, to crush the dainty mouth with kisses, to breathe the fragrance of her hair again. . . . “You trust me, is it not so, senorita?” “In very truth, senor; for, though you serve his majesty, 1 find in you a very gallant gentleman.” “And if I tell you things, which, repeated. might endanger me—?” “No harm shall come to you through me, senor.” She thought a moment, then urged gently: “As you rode this afternoon from Cuernavaca . . “I must go farther back than that,” said I, “for I have ridden three horses over seventy miles today. 1 started when the day was young, and I began my journey under most propitious circumstances, for General Benito Juarez saw me off and wished me Godspeed on my trip.” She laughed lightly. “One cannot help but like you. Monsieur de Vigny, for drollness Is a gift of the gods!” “Yet we stood under a brilliant moon, my lady, and he took my hand

«wi

“My Cousin Attacked You. Senor?" and offered up a fervent wish that the star of my luck might shine upon me always!” Her sweet eyes searched my face earnestly. “Por Dios,” she whispered, “he did, for I can read your face, senor, and no guile is there.” “There will never be—for you—senorita.” She spoke breathlessly: “But he could not have known—” “Naturally. General Juarez and your most able and justly famous uncle. General Escobedo, listened to me while 1 advised them that an attack upon Cuernavaca at this time would put the revolutionary cause tn grave danger. Acting upon my advice, Juarez decided to postpone the attack.” She thought a long moment. I had to give her credit for more than average intelligence. “Then captain, you did not have smallpox?” “No, senorita,” said 1, a vast regret in my very soul; “I wish 1 bad died of it.” “And 1 called,” she murmured, a hint of tears in her eyes; “called at your quarters to know how you were; called because you had shown your self to be a man of high courage, and of understanding; called to show you that I was sorry for the trick my cousin had played upon you.” She drew in a deep sigh. “Life is—difficult; is it not so? Cannot you see how such a thing would hurt me? We are proud, wfr-” “1 am sorry; 1 wish I could think of something to say. Do you imagine 1 find life simple, my lady? My life and my service belong to the emperor; for myself I have only dreams —dreams tn which 1 have placed upon a pedestal for my worship a sweet slim goddess with a halo of hair the color of desert smoke, with an quisite face of matchless purity, and limpid amber eyes in the immeasurable depths of which I lose—" Now she stopped my vehement flow of words with the touch of a tender

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAT

finger, but her voice was bantering "You might have saved your expres slons of regret at having nothing t< say, senor, for you have said a deal in very truth.” “Ah—senorita I" "If I forgive you. then—yon will go on with your story? If you went to the camp of General Juarez you must have gone to see the two young men . . ." “Aye; I saw them. Among those who used my face for plain and fancy punching were Rene Leroux and Louie Besancon.” She smiled a little. “And the others, senor?” ’ *t)on Fells Perez, the gargoyle of ’ Treinta, who has a fist as big as Popocatepetl, and a disposition just ! as fiery.” “No more?" > “Yes; Pablo Madrella y Gutierrez." ! “My cousin attacked you, senor?" 5 “In my sleep, senorita. in the • gloom of early morning, as I lay in my bed at the Hotel Montezuma, which, as you know, is located tn ! Cuernavaca, he and the fat and ’ apoplectic Manuel stole tn like murderers in the night, and Pablo drove ’ a long knife into my sleeping form.” ! “Oh! Yet you live, senor, and—and—it cannot be.” “Yet it was. The fact that my sleeping form was an artful roll of ; bed covering made his act none the less one of murder. With a handy three-legged stool as my only weapon. , I hid behind the door and saw It all.” i ‘They were armed?” A great fear —and a great hurt—lay tn her eyes “Aye; each with a long knife that gleamed evilly in the gloom—and I , with a stool, but it sufficed, for Man ! uel wears a turban-like bandage on his head, while your cousin is—" “Dead—senor?” * “No; not yet, though his life Is for felt. If he is in the city the soldiers of the empire will lead him to his rendezvous with death.” She straightened her slim shoui ‘ ders. “What do they know against , my cousin?” “Nothing yet, but when I show them j j this—” I drew from my pocket the . pass of Benito Juarez. CHAPTER IX > The Price of Treachery 1 One swift glance was ’all she needed. Her face took on the pallor of death. “In the name of God. senor,” she gasped, “where did you 1 get that?” 1 “I found it on the steps of your 1 porte-cochere after Lopez and I had assisted my wounded adversary to the carriage. It has saved my life more than once, it will serve now to remove > a menace to the empire, a man who I has forfeited all claims to friendshir i and all hope of clemency.” 1 "Yet he is my cousin, senor, though 1 1 do not countenance his actions. 1 Does the cousin of your—your god dess deserve no mercy at vour hands?” "Ah, senorita—is that fair of you?’ “No; yet you hold his life tn your hands, and I. who see in you only gallantry and courage and—and for giveness, am asking for his life. Ah —senor, you will never be greas in anything until you are great tn for- i giveness!” "Between Madrella and myself. | senorita, there is a blood-feud that ■ only death might allay. If he is free then my life is in constant danger.’’ She smiled at me through a mist of tears. “1 am not pleading for the life of my cousin because he is my cousin, or because it is his life; I am j thinking of the effect of this upon your soul, and upon my estimate of you. I wonder if the fine DeVignys of your noble line who have written their names large on the scroll of his- i tory would require this thing of you?’’ j She stopped and. searching my face, waited. I lost myself in the clear depths of her pleading eyes. M\ service, my duty to France, to my emperor—in all of that I had failed because of my too great love. I extended to her a hand that held the death warrant of Madrella. She took the folded piece of paper from my fingers and swept her lips lightly across the back of my hand. "You may destroy it,” I said, and ; waited. - • - “And when I have done so. senor?* i “Then shall 1 go to my emperor. I who has honored me with his love and j with his trust, and tell him that I have failed—and offer him my resignation. I can do no less.” “The price that you will have to pay, senor, is greater than his life is worth. I—l give it back to you. It ; you make it a matter of duty, I must ask nothing of you; if you can be ! great in forgiveness this world will have many things to offer you. I have failed.” Sighing, she got slowly to her feet. She studied the sinking sun for half a minute. “It is finished.” she said, turning to me again; -“there is no j more.” Now, seeing what I had done, she : cried out in fear and dismay—and in | sudden, overwhelming happiness, too 1 —for tiny pieces of that potent pass of Benito Juarez floated to the ground between us. “Ah, Dios," she said, “you have destroyed It!” “Yes, senorita; forgiveness and—nnd love are greater by far than duty.” I felt her groping fingers on my hands, on my shoulders; I felt her qj-ms around my neck, and I caught the faint elusive fragrance of her hair. Sudden tears blinded me so that I could not see her face, but I heard her soft voice calling my name, and I felt again the tender touch of her fragile lips. Yet, what 1 had done was nothing less than treason. There was left for me only to report to the emperor what 1 knew about the sublime sacrifice of Leroux and Besancon. the defection of Lestrange, and the questionable activities of Colonel Lopez. (TO BE CONTINUED.) A Serious Thing, Love Life is a love affair. . . Young people In love are preparing to continue love affairs in the next generation. This love we laugh and wbep about is the most serious thing in the world: we should give it all the intelligence we can command.—E.* W. Howe's Monthly.

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OBLIGING HOOPSNAKE -Jot X k JU “Little Willie Monk has lots of fun, thanks to the obliging hoopsnake!”

Better Pay The shooting tenant had packed all his paraphernalia and was bidding good-by to his head ghillie before returning south. He noticed that the man did not appear to appreciate the size of his parting tip. “Isn’t that enough, then, Donald?” he asked. *’oh, aye, sir," answered the ghillie rea’dily, “it’s more than enough—ye ken, sir, it’s generous; but—” “Well, go on?” *•?

“1 was just thlnkin’, sir, that 1 did better last year when ye hit me three times.” —London Answers. Costume “What are you going to wear at the opera?” “A big diamond tiara,” answered Miss Cayenne. “And what has that to do with music?” “If I can make them stop and look, I don’t care whether they listen or not”—Washington Star.