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TWELVE
THE UOTSNOP
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In this story Mr. Palmer, the
noted war correspondent, hae paint
ed war aa he haa aeen It on man/
battlefields, and between many na
tlona. Hla Intimate knowledge of
armlet and armament! hae enabled
him to produce a graphic picture of
the greatest of all ware, and hla
knowledge of condltlona hat led
him to propheey an end of armed
conflicts. No man la better quali
fied to write the etory of the final
world war than Mr. Palmer, and
he haa handled hie aubject with a
master hand.
• •■Bawsmm*
(Continued from Yesterday.)
"There's a cure for mobs!" cried
"Westerllng. "Let the police lire a few
volleys and they'll behave."
“Would that atop the retreat of the
army? We must aue for peace."
“Sue for peace! Rue for peace when
ere hare fire millions against their
three!”
“It seems ao, as the three millions
*re winning!” said the premier.
"Bus for peace because women go
hysterical? Im you suppose that the
Browns will listen now when they
think they have the advantage? Leave
peace to me! Olve me forty-eight hours
morel I have told our troops to hold
and they will hold. I don't mistake
cowardly telegraphers’ rumors for
facta—”
"Pardon ma a moment,” the premier
Interrupted. "I must answer a local
call." Bo astute a man of Affairs as
he knew that Westerllng’s voice, storm
ing, breaking, tightening with effort at
control, confirmed all reports of dis
aster. "In fact, the crockery Is broken
-rfor you and for me!” said the pre
mier when he spoke again. His life
had been a gamble and the gamble had
turned against him In playing for a
great prize. There was an admirable
stoicism in the way be announced the
nawa he had received from the local
call: "The chief of police calls me up
to say that the uprlslug Is too vast for
him to hold. There Isn't any mutiny,
but hla men simply have become a
part of publlo opinion. A mob of wom
an and children Is starting for the pal
ace to ask me wbat 1 have done with
their husbanda, brothers, sons, and fa
thers They won’t have to broak In to
•ttd me. I'm very tired. I'm ready. I
shall face them from the balcony. Yea,
Westerllng, you and I have achieved a
place In history, and they're far more
hitter toward yon than me. However,
you don't have to coma hack.”
"No, I don't have to go beck! No,
I was not to go back If I failed!” aatd
Weeteritng dlully.
• ••••••
In the Inner room, whose opening
door gave glimpses of I* natron end
the division chief*, a magic of eecrel
council which the junior* could not
quite understand had wrought the won
der. tenet ron had not forgotten the
deed. He could see them; he could
eee everything that happened. Had
not ftutow said to him: "Don't Just
reed reports Visualise men and
•rente. Be the erttllery, be the In
fantry, be the wounded -live and think
tn thetr places In this way only can
you really know your work!"
IDs elation when he saw his plans
going right was that of the Instrument
of Partow'a training and Marta'a serv
ice. He pressed Ihs hands of ths men
around him; his voles caught In hla
gratitude and hla breaths were very
I short at time, like those of a spent,
happy runner at the goal. Feeding on
victory and growing greedy of more,
his division chiefs were discussing how
to press the war till ths Qraya sued for
peace; and be waa etlent In the midst
of thetr talk, which was Interrupted
by the ringing of the tunnel telephone.
When be came out of his bedroom,
| Lanstron’s distress was so evident that
those who were seated arose and the
pothers drew near tn Inquiry and e.vm-
Ipathy. It seemed to them that the
ohlef of staff, the head of the machine,
wbo had left ths room had raturned an
a Individual.
"Tba connection was broken while
vs wars speaking:" he said blankly.
•That means It must hava been rut
by the enemy—that the enemy knows
of Its etletencel"
"Perhaps not Perhaps an accident
—a chance shot," said the vice-chief.
"No, I’m sure not," Istnstron replied
"1 am sure that It waa out deliberately
and not by bar.”
"The Md Regiment Is going forward
In that dlrsctlon—the same regiment
that defended ths house -and It can’t
go any faster that It Is going." the
rlca-chlef continued, rather Incoherent
ly. He and the other* no leas felt the
new* as s personal blow. Though ab
sent In person Marta had become In
•pint an Intimate of their hope# and
council*
”Bhe la helpless—in their power!"
Lanstron said "There Is no telling
what they might do to her tn the rage
of their discovery, I must go to her!
1 am going to the from!"
• • e e • • e
A young officer of the Grays who
wa* with the algnal-corpa section, try
ing to keep a brigade headquarters In
touch with the staff during the retreat,
two or three mile* from tha Oalland
house, had seen wbst looked like an In
sulated telephone wire at the bottom
of a crater In the earth made by the
explosion of a heavy shell. The In
structions to all subordinates from the
chief of Intelligence to look for the
source of the leak In Information to
the Browns made him quick to see a
clew In anything unusual. He jumped
down Into the crater and not only
found his pains rewarded, but that
the wire waa Intact and ran under
ground In either direction. Who had
laid It? Not the Grays. Why was it
there? He called for one of his men
to bring a buzzer, and It was the work
of little more than a minute to cut the
wire and make an attachment. Then
he heard a woman's voice talking to
"l-anny.” Who was I-anny? He wait
ed till be had heard enough to know
that It was none other than Lanstron,
the chief of staff of the Browns, and
the woman must be a spy. An orderly
dispatched to the chief of Intelligence
with the news returned with the or
der:
"Drop everything and report to me
In person at once.”
• ♦••••*
"For this I have made my sacrifice!”
Marta thought. "The killing goes on
by I-anny'H orders, not by Weslerllng's,
this time.”
Leaving her mother to enjoy the
prospect, a slow-moving figure, trance
like, she went along the first terrace
path to a point near the veranda
where the whole sweep of landscape
with Its panorama of retreat mag
netized her senses. Like the (fray of
lava, the Gray soldiery was erupting
from the range; In columns, still under
the control of officers, keeping to the
defiles; In swarms and batches, under
the control of nothing but their own
emotions. Mostly they were hugging
cover, from Instinct if not from direc
tion, but some relied on straight lines
of flight and speed of foot for escape.
Coursing aeroplanes were playing a
new part. Their wireless was Inform
ing the Brown gunners where the
masses were thickest. This way and
that the Brown artillery fire drove re
treating bodies, prodding them In the
hack with the fearful shepherdry of
their shells. Officers' swords flashed
In the faces of the bolters or In hold
Ing rear guards to their work. Officers
Rtid orderlies were galloping hither
and thither with meesages. In want of
wires Commanders had been told to
hold, but how and where to hold? They
saw neighboring regiments and bri
gades going and they had to go. The
machine, the complicated modern war
machine, was broken; the machine,
with Its nerves of Intelligence cut, be
came a thing of disconnected parts,
eaoh part working out Its own salva
tion. Authority ceased to be that of
the bureau and army llsta. It waa that
of units racked by hardship, acting on
the hour's demand.
Gorged whs the pass road, over
flowing with the struggling tumult of
men and vehicles. Self-preservation
breaking the bonds of discipline wae
In the aecendnnt, and It sought the
highway, even as water keeps to the
river bed. Like specks on the labor
ing tide was the white of bandages An
ambulance trying to cut out to one
elda wae overturned. The frantlo
chauffeur and hospital-corps orderly
were working to extricate the wound
ed from their painful position. A gun
was overturned against the ambulance.
A melee of horses and men was form
ing st the foot of the garden gate In
front of the narrowing bounds of tli*
road Into the town, as a stream bank*
up before a Jam of driftwood. The
st niggle for right of way became In
creasingly wild; the dam of men,
horses, and wagons grew. A Brown
dirigible was descending toward the
great target; but on closer view Its
commander forbore, the humane Im
pulse outweighing the desire for retri
bution for colleagues In camp ati3
mess who had gone down in a holo
caust In the aerial hattlea of the night.
I’nder the awful spell of th# pano
rama, she did not see Westerling, who
had slopped only a few feet distant
with his aide and his valet, nor did h*
•totlce her as the tumult glased hi*
eyes He was ns an artist who looks
on O i ribbons of the canvas of his
painting, or the sculptor on the frag
ments of hi* statue. Worse still, with
no faith to give him fortitude escept
tha materialistic, he saw the altar of
his god of military efficiency In rulna
He who had not allowed the word re
treat to enter his lexicon now saw a
rout. He had laughed at reserve
armies in last night’s feverish defiance,
at Turcas’a advocacy of a slower and
aurer method of attack, In those hour*
of smiling at a wall with his flats and
forehead. In denial of all the truth so
clear to at crags military logic. If h#
had only even a few conventional di
rections all this disorder would have
been avoided. Hla army could have
fallen back In orderly fashion to their
own range. The machine out of order,
he had attampted no repair; he had al
lowed It to thrash Itself to piece*.
Th* artillery's maceration of the
human jam suddenly ceased; perhaps
because th* gunner* had seen the Red
('rose flag which a doctor had ths
presence of mind to wave Westerling
turned from a sight worse to him than
the killing -that of the flowing retreat
along th# road pressing frantically
over the dead and wounded in grow Lug
BEDE RICK PALM ER
disorder for the cover of the town.
Near by were Bellini, the chief of In
telligence, and a subaltern who had
arrived only a minute before. The sub
altern was dust covered. He seemed
to have come in from a hard ride. Both
were watching Marta, as If waiting for
her to speak. She met Westerllng’s
look steadily, her eyes dark and etlll
and In his the reflection of the vague
realization of more than he bad
guessed In her relations with him.
"Well," she breathed to Westerllng,
"the war goes on!”
"That's It! That's the voice!” ex
claimed the subaltern In an explosion
of recognition.
A short, sharp laugh of Irony broke
from llelllnl; the laugh of one whose
suspicions are confirmed In the mix
ture of the sublime and the ridiculous.
Marta looked around at the Interrup
tion, alert, on guard.
"You seem amused,” she remarked
curiously.
"No, but you must have been.” re
plied Bellini hoarsely. "Early this
morning, not far from the castle, this
young officer found In the crater made
by a ten-inch shell a wire that ran In
a conduit underground. The wire was
intact. He tapped It. He heard a voice
thanking some one for her part in the
victory, and It seems that the woman’s
voice that answered Is yours, Miss Gal
land. So, General Westerllng, the leak
In Information was over this wire from
our staff Into the Brownß’ headquar
ters, as Bouchard believed and as I
came to believe.”
So long had Marta expected this mo
ment of exposure that It brought no
shock. Her spirit had undergone many
subtle rehearsals for the occasion.
"Yes, that Is true," she heard herself
saying, a little distantly, but very
quietly and naturally.
Westerling fell back as from a blow
In the face. His breath came hard at
first, like one being strangled. Then
It sank deep In his chest and his eyes
were blood-ehot, as a bull’s In his final
effort against the matador. He raised
a quivering, clenched fist and took a
step nearer her.
But far from flinching, Marta seemed
to be greeting the blow, as If she ad
mitted his right to strike. She was
without any sign of triumph and with
every sign of relief. Lying was at an
end. She could he truthful.
“Do you recall what I said In the re
ception-room at the hotel?” she asked.
The question sent a flash into a hid
den chamber of hla mind. Now the
only thing he could remember of that
Interview was the one remark which
hitherto he had never included In his
recollection of It
"You said I could not win.” He drew
out the words painfully.
"When you said that you brought on
this war to gratify your ambition, I
chose to be one of the weapons of
war; I fought for civilization, for my
home, with the only means I had
Hgalnst the wickedness of a victory of
conquest the precedent of It In this
age a victory which should glorify
such trickery as you practised on your
people."
"I should like to shoot you dead!"
cried Bellini.
"And you let me make lore to you!"
Westerling said In a dated, groping
monotone to Mnrta.
Such a wreck was he of his former
self that she found It amazing that she
could not pity him. Yet she might
have pitied htm had he plnnged Into
the fight; had he tried to rally one of
the broken regiments; had he been
able to forget himself.
"Rather, you made love to yourself
through me," she answered, not harsh
ly, not even emphatically, but merely
as a statement of paaslonleea fact "If
you dared to endure what you ordered
others to endure for ths sake of your
ambition; If —■**
She was Interrupted by a sharp itp
tn the air. Westerling dodged and
looked about wildly.
"What Is thats" h# asked "Whatr
Five or six alps followed like a
charge of wasps flying at a speed that
made them Invisible. Marta felt a
brush of air paat her cheek and W«*
terllng went chalky white. It was the
first time be had been under Are. But
these bullets were only etrays. Ne
more came.
Tome, gqneral, let us be going?"
urged the aide, touching hie chief on
the arm
"Yea, reel" said Westerling hup
rledly
Francois, who bad picked up the coat
that had fatten from Westerling*
shoulders with hie start at th* busting,
held It while his master thrust hlu
hands through the sleeves.
"And this Is wiser." weld the aide,
unfastening the detachable tnslgnla of
rank from the shoulders of the great
coat. “IP* wiser, too, that we walk.”
he added.
"Walk? But ray carl" exclaimed
Weaterllng petulantly.
"I'm afraid that the car could not
get through the press In the town,"
waa the reply. "Welkin* Is safer."
To be continued tomorrow
Use Herald “Wants”,
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA, GA.
HEP'S DREAM
“Haven’t You Slept Long Enough ? ” Cries Hi 3 Mother
Giving Him Another Shake. “The Guest Are Begin
ning to Come.”
Meho, the lamplight, has asked for
the hand of Fatca. the daughter of
Hassan-aga, and tomorrow' she is to
be his wife. Meho is as happy as a
bird in Hpring. It seems to him that
an unearthly happiness is to be his,
that he has grown so tall that he has
pur. both arms into Djnet, the Moham
medan I’aradlse. arid carried off the
most feautiful hour! there. He is so
happy that he does not know what
to do. Ho rushes from one place to
another, spins around like a top, cries,
scolds and behaves in the most abom
niahle manner towards mother and
female relations insisting on helping
t item with the preparations for the
wedding feast and hopelessly bingling
everything he tried to do.
When evening comes he is dead
tired, though he has not done a sin
gle useful thing. His legs are shak
ing, his head swims and he Is barely
able to stand.
At last he goes to his little room on
the ground floor, of which he is so
proud that he brn.gs of the wonderful
color of the walls, though they are
innocent of either brush or paint. It
is simply dampness and smoke which
have covered them with variegated
spots until they now look like rare
old marble. Here he throws himself
on his lied, an old worn out mattress
the stuffing of which is peeping
through in many places.
"Allah!” he exclaims clasping his
head with both mauds, “How life will
he beautiful when Fatca is here. To
morrow she will he here and she will
sleep here right close to me."
He cannot go on, a strange fever
takes possession of him and makes
him tremble all over. He sees Fatca
Branding at the mirror in a gauzy
gown arranging her hair, raising her
beautiful white arms above her head.
She kisses him, teases him, pulls his
moustache and nestles In his arms.
"Oil, how beautiful that will be,” he
exclaims quite alound and Jumps up
from his mattress, quite wild with
the thought.
"If I could only sleep," he sighs and
throws himself on the hare floor,
rests his head on his arms and con
tinues his monologue:
“Then I shall sit down there and
take her on my lap, I will kiss her
and she w ill return my kisses. We will
t.flk and laugh and kiss again. We
will love each other ever so long.
Then one day she will give me a son.
I shall lie coming home from the mar
ket place nnd somebody will rush to
wards me and cry ”'a son! You have
a son now!” Another day when I
come home my son will say “Papa”
to mo the first time, and my heart
will beat like tall of a young lamb,
and 1 will kiss the boy, and Fatca,
nnd everybody.”
lie begins to smack his dry lips as
if he were, actually kissing his wife
and child.
Then his head drops until the chin
rests on his chest, his eyes close and
he begins to snore.
But there comes ltiro, the Cafedji!
His big green eyes are rolling about
In his head, his face which is ordi
narily so pale is now as purple as an
egg plant and his chest is heaving,
lie is quite out of breath.
"Meho," he cries, they are kidnap-
We hope so. The world of civilization and progress has been blotted out by the world of brutality and war, but the
light of peace is coming.
May it come soon and every American work for it. •
ping Fatca "
Meho trembles and sits up.
“Who? Where? Who are they?”
Houssa Balto has Just run away
Fatca "
Meho hears no more. He feels as if
somebody had hit him on the top of
the head with a cudgel. He roars
like a wounded tiger and picks up an
enormous knife, he has inherited from
his father and which -has been hang
ing on the wall for years.
“He shall not carry her off as long
as there is any breath left in my body.
I shall teach that giaour a lesson. He
won’t try to kidnap anymore women
when I. get through with him! You
call me a Uhlan if I do not cut off his
head as if he were a rooster."
He pulls up his baggy trousers
which bother him, rolls up his sleeves,
takes the knife between his teeth and
runs down the street like a madman.
"Come out here, you contemptible
Ulah,” he cried as he takes up a
threatening attitude outside Housso’s
house.
Inside somebody giggles, then he
hears a curse, a window is thrown
open and a voice is heard. It Is
Fatca’s.
“Don’t you dare call horn a Ulah,”
she says and shows her pretty head
in the opining. “It is you who are a
Ulah, and worse than a Ulah! I love
him! I don’t want you!”
Meho's heart stops beating:
"Then you have deceived me, you
miserable daughter of the Evil one,"
ho gasps.
Fatca does not answer, hut spits
into his face and behind her appears
an angry face with an enormous
black moustache and two dark eyes
which seem to shoot fire.
"What do you want here?" Housso
cries brandishing a gigantic pistol.
Fastca belongs to me and if she has
had some fun with you, it is because
it amused her. If I hear another
word from you I will let daylight
through your thick head!”
Meho stares at him.
“Come out here,” he shouts,
"Get out of here or I’ll shoot.”
“Go ahead and shoot,” cried Meho
and hares his breast. “When you
have robbed me of Fatca you may as
well take my life too! I cannot live
without her!”
Housso rolls his eyes.
"AIL right, stand still!"
“So I am going to die now,” Meho
thinks as he sees the barrel directed
against his heart. “Die for her sake!
Is she then a hour!?”
And before Housso gets time to
shoot, he makes himself very small
and rushes awny. He runs as fast as
his legs can carry him down the
street, across fields and gardens,
jumping ditches and hedges not even
noticing that he had dropped his knife
and lost one of his slippers.
"Help! Help! Murder!" he shouts,
thinking that Housso is close behind
him.
Then somebody takes hold if his
shoulder and shakes him violently.
"Haven't you slept long enough?”
cries his mother giving him another
shake. “The guests are beginning to
come."
IS THE ECLIPSE PASSING?
THE CHILDHOOD IF A QUEEN
While Josephine, Napoleon’s first
wife, lived in retirement at Malmaison
with her small court, she very sel
dom wore jewels though she had so
many that she haa a special treosure
room made for them.
Her young ladies in waiting were
dying to get a glimpse of these of
which their mothers had spoken with
so much enthusiasm and one day
when the empress was in particularly
good humor they begged her to show
them her treasures.
Josephine at last consented with a
sad smile and ordered three big
tables placed in the drawing room.
Then she handed over the keys to
the lady who w-as at the head of her
court and a number of maids were
soon busy carrying in scores of cases
large and small and placing them on
the tables. The boxes were opened
and the young girls broke out in ex
clamations of delight at the sight of
these treasures from all parts of the
world collected by France's first em
peror.
Josephine silently enjoyed their
delight in handling these priceless
diamonds, emeralds and pearls, but
then she said:
"Do you know, young ladies, why 1
show you these things. First of all,
because I want you not to attribute
too much value to treasures of this
kind. Having seen these you will not
be inclined to admire less costly jew
elry, and I want you to understand
that you may be dreadfully unhappy
even wdth such treasures in your pos
session. Look at these earrings ”
She held up a pair of sparkling ear
rings. “They are magnificent. Are
they not? They are valued at half a
million francs, and before they be
came mine they belonged to poor
Queen Marie Antonette who was guil
lotined, after losing or being sepa
rated from everybody she loved in
this world.”
One of the young girls said hesitat
ingly: "But surely it must be lovely
to be able to wear such things and
surely Your Majesty felt happy to re
ceive such wonderful presents.”
The empress nodded her head
thoughtfully.
“Yes, at first I was, but I very soon
tired of them. I assure you that not
one of these precious ornaments have
given me half as much happiness as
a pair of old shoes I had given to me
once.”
“I see that you do not believe me,
hut I can provg what I say. You
know that all these jew’els were
brought from my strongroom, but the
costliest thing 1 own is not kepi
there and never gets that far away
from me.”
Josephine went to a small cabinet,
a masterpiece by Charles Andrew
Boule, opened one of the many little
doors and took out a pair of old shoes
of the most primitive kind and placed
them on the table among the jewels.
“I will tell you the story of these
little shoes. It begins many years
ago, long before the time when any
one thought that I was destined to
become Empress of France, ’the name
of Beauharnais, which was my name
then, was known to very few people.
I had neither gold nor diamonds, but
was so poor indeed that a small sum
invested in France was my whole
w'ealth and it was to sell certain pa
pers that I came here all the way from
Martinique. The trip almost exhaust
ed my little store of cash and I had
to consider every single thing I
bought before we started.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 18.
“Hortense at that time was a very
pretty and lively little girl. In Mar
tinique she had learned many of the
negroes' songs and dances and with
these she delighted the sailors, whose
pet she soon became. They spoiled
her in every possible manner and she
spent her happiest hours among them.
She was particularly fond of an old
mate, who adoredsher and with whom
I W'as sure to find her whenever she
had run away from me. But her
dancing quickly wore out her little
shoes and as she knew that it was the
only pair she had she dared not let me
see how W'orn out the soles were, fear
ing that I would forbid her to go on
the deck. She concealed this fact
from me until one day, I discovered
spots of blood on one of the shoes.
“I because scared and asked her if
she had hurt her foot.
"Oh. no, mother,” she replied.
"But your foot is bleeding.”
“Oh, that is nothing,” she said,'
"nothing at all.”
“Of course she had to show me her
foot and I discovered that the soles
of her shoes were so thin that a nail
had pierced one of them and wound
ed her foot quite severely. We were
only half way across and I knew it
would be a long time before I should
be able to buy her another pair of
shoes. What was I to do? I tried to
forbid her to go on deck, but this
made her so unhappy that I did not
have the heart to keep her below, and
still I knew that if I permitted her to
leave the cabin her shoes would not
last very many days.
“One day the old mate came down
below to see wliat his little friend was
doing. He looked first at her and
then at me and saw we were both
crying.
“What is the matter with you both?”
he asked.
I cannot go on deck any more, for
my shoes are nearly worn out and
mama has no others to give me."
“Is that all?” said the old fellow
and laughed. “I have a pair of old
shoes in my sea chest. They may be
a little big for you, but that does not
matter, we have just got to make them
fit. You Madame will cut the leather
after I have ripped up the seams and
I will trim the soles down to the right
size and stitch the uppers on again.
I’ll bet you will never want a pair of
stronger shoes, when I get them done.”
“He ran up and a few moments
later returned with the shoes. Hor
tense was wild with joy and we set
to work immediately but it was a dif
ficult task and it took us a whole week
One morning Hortense once more
danced on the deck wearing her new
shoes of w'hich she and and old
Jacques were equally proud. I have
always been sorry that I never learn
ed his family name, for many times
■while I was empress of France I
wanted to reward the man who made
us both happy by making us a pres
ent of his old shoes.”
The empress grew' silent and look
ed around. Some of the young girls
laughed, others looked quite grave as
If they had realized how changeable
are things in this w'orld. They
thinking •of how strange it was that
an empress and a queen as Hortense
became shortly afterwards should
look upon a pair of old shoes as the
best present anyone had ever given
them. They looked from tlft shoes to
Queen Marie Antoinette's diamond
earrings and understood the sigh
which the empress in vain tried to
suppress.