The news of the collapse of the army of the East found our wretchedly

clothed and half-starved hussars still patrolling the environs of

Brest from Belair to the Pont Tournant, and from the banks of the

Elorn clear around the ramparts to Lannion Bay, where the ice-sheathed

iron-clads lay with banked fires off the Port Militaire, and the

goulet guard-boats patrolled the Port de Commerce from the Passe de

l'Ouest to the hook on the Digue and clear around to Cap Espagnol.

All Brest, from the battlements of the Château of St. Martin, in

Belair, was on watch, so wrought up was the governor over the attempt

on the treasure-train. For three months our troopers scarcely left

their saddles, except to be taken to the hospital in Recouvrance.

The rigor of the constant alert wore us to shadows; rockets from the

goulet, the tocsin, the warning boom of a gun from the castle, found

us spurring our jaded horses through ice and snow to scour the

landward banlieue and purge it of a dreaded revolt. The names of Marx,

of Flourens, of Buckhurst, were constantly repeated; news of troubles

at Bordeaux, rumors of the red flag at Marseilles, only served to

increase the rigid system of patrol, which brought death to those in

the trenches as well as to our sleet-soaked videttes.

Suddenly the nightmare ended with a telegram. Paris had surrendered.

Immediately the craze to go beset us all; our improvised squadrons

became clamoring mobs of peasants, wild to go home. Deserters left us

every night; they shot some in full flight; some were shot after

drum-head séances in which Speed and I voted in vain for acquittal.

But affairs grew worse; our men neglected their horses; bands of

fugitives robbed the suburbs, roving about, pillaging, murdering, even

burning the wretched hovels where nothing save the four walls remained

even for the miserable inmates.

Our hussars were sent on patrol again, but they deserted with horses

and arms in scores, until, when we rode into the Rue du Bois d'Amour,

scarce a squadron clattered into the smoky gateway, and the infantry

of the line across the street jeered and cursed us from their

barracks.

On the last day of February our regiment was disbanded, and the

officers ordered to hold themselves in readiness to recruit the débris

of a dragoon regiment, one squadron of which at once took possession

of our miserable barracks.

On the first day of March, by papers from London, we learned that the

war was at an end, and that the preliminary treaty of Sunday, the

26th, had been signed at Versailles.

The same mail brought to me an astonishing offer from Cairo, to assist

in the reorganization and accept a commission in the Egyptian military

police. Speed and I, shivering in our ragged uniforms by the barrack

stove, discussed the matter over a loaf of bread and a few sardines,

until we fell asleep in our greasy chairs and dreamed of hot sunshine,

and of palms, and of a crimson sunset against which a colossal basking

monster, half woman, half lion, crouched, wallowing to her stone

breasts in a hot sea of sand.

When I awoke in the black morning hours I knew that I should go. All

the roaming instinct in me was roused. I, a nomad, had stayed too long

in one stale place; I must be moving on. A feverish longing seized me;

inertia became unbearable; the restless sea called me louder and

louder, thundering on the breakwater; the gulls, wheeling above the

arsenal at dawn, screamed a challenge.

Leave of absence, and permission to travel pending acceptance of my

resignation, I asked for and obtained before the stable trumpets awoke

my comrade from his heavy slumber by the barrack stove.

I made my packet--not much--a few threadbare garments folded around

her letters, one to mark each miserable day that had passed since I

spurred my horse out of Trécourt on the track of the wickedest man I

ever knew.

Speed awoke with the trumpets, and stared at me where I knelt before

the stove in my civilian clothes, strapping up my little packet.

"Oh," he said, briefly, "I knew you were going."

"So did I," I replied. "Will you ride to Trécourt with me? I have

two weeks' permission for you."

He had no clothing but the uniform he wore, and no baggage except a

razor, a shirt, a tooth-brush, and a bundle of letters, all written on

Madame de Vassart's crested paper, but not signed by her.

We bolted our breakfast of soup and black bread, and bawled for our

horses, almost crazed with impatience, now that the moment had come at

last.

"Good-bye!" shouted the shivering dragoon officers, wistfully, as we

wheeled our horses and spurred, clattering, towards the black gates.

"Good-bye and good luck! We drink to those you love, comrades!"

"And they shall drink to you! Good-bye! Good-bye!" we cried, till the

salt sea-wind tore the words from our teeth and bowed our heads as we

galloped through the suburbs and out into the icy high-road, where,

above us, the telegraph-wires sang their whirring dirge, and the wind

in the gorse whistled, and the distant forest sounded and resounded

with the gale's wailing.

On, on, hammering the flinty road with steel-shod hoofs, racing with

the racing clouds, thundering across the pontoon, where benumbed

soldiers huddled to stare, then bounding forward through the narrow

lanes of hamlets, where pinched faces peered out at us from hovels,

and gaunt dogs fled from us into the frozen hedge.

Far ahead we caught sight of the smoke of a locomotive.

"Landerneau!" gasped Speed. "Ride hard, Scarlett!"

The station-master saw us and halted the moving train at a frantic

signal from Speed, whose uniform was to be reckoned with by all

station-masters, and ten minutes later we stood swaying in a

cattle-car, huddled close to our horses to keep warm, while the

locomotive tore eastward, whistling frantically, and an ocean of black

smoke poured past, swarming with sparks. Crossing the Aune trestle

with a ripping roar, the train rushed through Châteaulin, south, then

east, then south.

Toward noon, Speed, clinging to the stall-bars, called out to me that

he could see Quimper, and in a few moments we rolled into the station,

dropped two cars, and steamed out again into the beautiful Breton

country, where the winter wheat was green as new grass and the gorse

glimmered, and the clear streams rushed seaward between their thickets

of golden willows and green briers, already flushing with the promise

of new buds.

Rosporden we passed at full speed; scarcely a patch of melting snow

remained at Bannalec; and when we steamed slowly into Quimperlé, the

Laïta ran crystal-clear as a summer stream, and I saw the faint blue

of violets on the southern slope of the beech-woods.

Some gendarmes aided us to disembark our horses, and a sub-officer

respectfully offered us hospitality at the barracks across the square;

but we were in our saddles the moment our horses' hoofs struck the

pavement, galloping for Paradise, with a sweet, keen wind blowing,

hinting already of the sea.

This was that same road which led me into Paradise on that autumn day

which seemed years and years ago. The forests were leafless but

beautiful; the blackthorns already promised their scented snow to

follow the last melting drift which still glimmered among the trees in

deep woodland gullies. A violet here and there looked up at us with

blue eyes; in sheltered spots, fresh, reddish sprouts pricked the

moist earth, here a whorl of delicate green, there a tender spike,

guarding some imprisoned loveliness; buds on the beeches were

brightening under a new varnish; naked thickets, no longer dead gray,

softened into harmonies of pink and gold and palest purple.

Once, halting at a bridge, above the quick music of the stream we

heard an English robin singing all alone.

"I never longed for spring as I do now," broke out Speed. "The

horror of this black winter has scarred me forever--the deathly

whiteness, month after month; the freezing filth of that ghastly city;

the sea, all slime and ice!"

"Gallop," I said, shuddering. "I can smell the moors of Paradise

already. The winds will cleanse us."

We spoke no more; and at last the road turned to the east, down among

the trees, and we were traversing the square of Paradise village,

where white-capped women turned to look after us, and children stared

at us from their playground around the fountain, and the sleek magpies

fluttered out of our path as we galloped over the bridge and breasted

the sweet, strong moor wind, spicy with bay and gorse.

Speed flung out his arm, pointing. "The circus camp was there," he

said. "They have ploughed the clover under."

A moment later I saw the tower of Trécourt, touched with a ray of

sunshine, and the sea beyond, glittering under a clearing sky.

As we dismounted in the court-yard the sun flashed out from the

fringes of a huge, snowy cloud.

"There is Jacqueline!" cried Speed, tossing his bridle to me in his

excitement, and left me planted there until a servant came from the

stable.

Then I followed, every nerve quivering, almost dreading to set foot

within, lest happiness awake me and I find myself in the freezing

barracks once more, my brief dream ended.

In the hallway a curious blindness came over me. I heard Jacqueline

call my name, and I felt her hands in mine, but scarcely saw her; then

she slipped away from me, and I found myself seated in the little

tea-room, listening to the dull, double beat of my own heart,

trembling at distant sounds in the house--waiting, endlessly waiting.

After a while a glimmer of common-sense returned to me. I squared my

shoulders and breathed deeply, then rose and walked to the window.

The twigs on the peach-trees had turned wine-color; around the roots

of the larkspurs delicate little palmated leaves clustered; crocus

spikes pricked the grass everywhere, and the tall, polished shoots of

the peonies glistened, glowing crimson in the sun. A heavy cat sunned

its sleek flanks on the wall, brilliant eyes half closed, tail tucked

under. Ange Pitou had grown very fat in three months.

A step at the door, and I wheeled, trembling. But it was only a Breton

maid, who bore some letters on a salver of silver.

"For me?" I asked.

"If you please," she said, demurely.

Two letters, and I knew the writing on one. The first I read

standing:

"Buffalo, N. Y., Feb. 3, 1871.

"Mr. Scarlett, Dear Sir and Friend,--Trusting you're

well I am pleased to admit the same, the blind Goddess

having smiled on me and the circus since we quit that

damn terra firma for a more peeceful climb.

"We are enjoying winter quarters near to the majestic

phenomena of Niagara, fodder is cheap and vittles

bountiful.

"Would be pleased to have you entertain idees of

joining us, and the same to Mr. Speed--you can take the

horses. I have a lion man from Jersey City. We open in

Charleston S. C. next week no more of La continong for

me, savvy voo! home is good enough for me. That

little Jacqueline left me I got a girl and am training

her but she ain't Jacqueline. Annimals are well Mrs.

Grigg sends her love and is joined by all especially

the ladies and others too numerous to mention. Hoping

to hear from you soon about the horses I remain yours

truly and courteously,

"H. Byram Esq."

The second letter I opened carelessly, smiling a little:

"New York, Feb. 1, 1871.

"Dear Mr. Scarlett,--We were married yesterday. We have

life before us, but are not afraid. I shall never

forget you; my wife can never forget the woman you

love. We have both passed through hell--but we have

passed through alive. And we pray for the happiness of

you and yours.

"Kelly Eyre."

Sobered, I laid this letter beside the first, turned thoughtfully away

into the room, then stood stock-still.

The Countess de Vassart stood in the doorway, a smile trembling on her

lips. In her gray eyes I read hope; and I took her hands in mine. She

stood silent with bent head, exquisite in her silent shyness; and I

told her I loved her, and that I asked for her love; that I had found

employment in Egypt, and that it was sufficient to justify my asking

her to wed me.

"As for my name," I said, "you know that is not the name I bear;

yet, knowing that, you have given me your love. You read my dossier in

Paris; you know why I am alone, without kin, without a family,

without a home. Yet you believe that I am not tainted with dishonor.

And I am not. Listen, this is what happened; this is why I gave up

all; and ... this is my name!" ...

And I bent my head and whispered the truth for the first time in my

life to any living creature.

When I had ended I stood still, waiting, head still bowed beside

hers.

She laid her hand on my hot face and slowly drew it close beside

hers.

"What shall I promise you?" she whispered.

"Yourself, Éline."

"Take me.... Is that all?"

"Your love."

She turned in my arms and clasped her hands behind my head, pressing

her mouth to mine.



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