The Oregon daily journal., October 21, 1917, Page 51, Image 51

THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 21, 1917.
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By STEPHEN GAILLARD
Illustrated by Henry Thiede
IS
'SIET7 desires that
I should tell him
the story, yes? Ah,
no. no. JTsieu, I am
the poor raconteur
the very poor
story teller, that Is. '
Besides, M'sieu will
pardon me, I am
sure but I have
rot the time. As M'sieu sees I am in
the full regimental "all dressed up," as
M'sleu's noble countrymen, the Yankees,
oay, "and no place to go." Only I have
the place to go; Indeed yes. My dear
irlend, the Capltalne Bertrand, be Is
Tell M'sieu how I won the medaille
rnllltalre? Ah, It is nothing to tell, noth
ing the pit of hell for the half hour, the
hospital for the two months, that is all.
And ray friend, the Capltalne Bertrand.
this is his wedding day, as M'sieu may
have heard, and I am his best man,
which M'sieu doubtless have not heard;
therefore M'sieu will surely pardon me
that I am in haste; yes?
Who is the -Capltalne Bertrand?
What! Does M'sieu not know? Ah, I
am Indeed surprise; I am indeed aston
ish! As well should M'sieu ask. Who is
Joffre, who Is Nlvelle, as who is Ber
trand. I had Indeed thought there was
id France no small child even that had
rot heard of "TilMIell-FreezerOvalre"
Bertrand. tWhat? M'sieu has but just
arrived in Paris, and has been but two
days In France?. Ah, then, I can under
stand his Ignorance, and as M'sieu Is an
American, and as the Capltalne Bertrand
1m his countryman, and as there is yet a
little time before I must leave for the
wedding, I will tell him the story of the
Capltalne Bertrand; and with the more
pleasure that we hold (M'sieu's noble
country in the high esteem, we French.
Well, then, as I have already told
M'sieu, Jack Bertrand is an American,
one of the many of his countrymen who
have come to fight for France. How he
got into the Chasseurs.Alpln I know not;
but what I do know is that he won his
commission as sous lieutenant for the
gallantry in action. It is not long after
that I met him. I have known him in
I'arls before the war, when I was super
intendent of the Telegraph du Nord; and
I am delighted to meet him again, for,
M'sieu, to know that insouciant dare
devil, Jack Bertrand, It is to love him.
I am on the staff of the general of the
division, Armand de Villehardouin, at
the time; and after I have embrace the
dear Jack Bertrand and tell him the
brave fellow he is, I have him to my
quarters to dine with me. It Is then that
I learn that the dear friend is not happy.
Can M'sieu believe It, that in spite of his
promotion from the ranks for gallantry,
in spite that the General Nlvelle have
embrace him and call him comrade, in '
spite that hLs name have appear In the
general order, the dear Jack Bertrand is
not ha"ppy. I am surprise; I am also feel
a little hurt that the dear friend he care
rot for the so grand honor. I ask why it
is to him that the honor, the glory, it is
as nothing; and he say' to me with a sigh:
"Ah, Rene, mon ami, I am in love." Then
I understand, then I smile, then I laugh,
then I say: "Is it possible, mon ami, that .
the fair one she is cruel? That she is
disdain? Ah, I cannot believe it."
But he say: "Oh, she la all right; she
Is the sweetest girl in France, and she
loves me; but her father, he is the devil,
rroud as Lucifer."
"Ah, la, la! it is the pere," I say, "and
If it is not too Indiscreet, may I know
who the fair one is, mon ami?"
Then the mad fellow he tell me. Ah,
M'sieu would never guess to whom it Is
that the. audacious fellow his eyes have
uplift; indeed, no. It is to the beautiful
Ke'lene, the daughter of the General Ar
mand de Vlllehardoum no less. And the
pere proud as Lucifer Is not too much
to say of him; no, no. He is the loyal
soldier of the republlque, he fight like the '
lion for France, yes; but his family, it is
of the grande noblesse since Hugh Capet
is Compte de Paris. '
He the dear Jack Bertrand, that la
have met, the beautiful. Helene in Paris
when he have been on the furlough and
they, the -pauvre enfans, have proceed
Immediate to fall in love she the only
child of the General de Villehardouin,
the daughter pf a thousand years of the
grand noblesse; he the sergeant in the
Chasseurs Alpin... Ah, la, la! such folly,
such midsummer madness did M'sieu
Well, he leave me after the dinner to
go to his post In tfie first line, and I feel
very sad for the dear mad fellow, very
sad. And I think what he say, that he
witt "win the old boy over" think,
M'sieu, the audacious, what you call him,
scapegrace, calling the General de Ville
hardouin the old boy I think what he
say and I think how gallant, bow deter
mine he look when he say it, and in the
heart I think that maybe he will do it.
Have he not already won bis way from
the rank? Is he not the sous lieutenant
for the gallantry?-
It Is long after, two months, maybe,
but I have not forget; no. I think often
grand assault, and our first line It Is
overwhelm. Not without the ' desperate
fight, no; but our brave poilus, they are
as the one to ten; the odds they are too
much even, for them. To our general it
seem that our second line, It will go, top;
the third, even. I am with him, and his
face it .set hard, it is gray in the light of
the star bombs that the. Boches are send
ing up over the line to light their way.
Ah, it is terrible for his pride to be taken
thus by surprise.
"Rene, my friend," he say to me as
we arrive at the second line, "it is here
that we .will die." And ah, M'sieu, his
face, it is grim as he say it.
It is at that moment that the machine
gun, the solitaire machine gun, begin to
.speak out of the stillness that is so un
cannee in that hell that is -the battle
front. At the first I think it is only some
hero that still fight on though death it is
certain; and then, M'sieu! Then it sud
denly occur to me that there is some
thing, what you call peculiar in the way
that machine gun fire; something fa
miliar, something that remind me of the
old of the Telegriph du Nord. I listen, I
reflect, and then, then I understand. It
is the message, the telegraph, only the
machine gun it is the instrument. I am
astound, I am excite, I tremble with the
is good you have come, Rene, my friend, for hellii is almost froze!"
ever hear? It is true that the Sergeant
Bertrand that is, he was then the Ser
geant Bertrand Is rich, that he have the
car, the automobile, the mansion that he
have lease in the Rue de la Victolre; but
for all that he is the sergeant In the
Chasseurs Alpin, and she is the general's
daughter.
"Have the dear friend mention the so
grande passion to the pere the general?"
I ask. " t
"Indeed I have," he reply with the
grin.
"And what did the general say?' I
ask, hardly able to believe that my. ears
do not me. deceive.
"What he say it is plenty," he reply;
"if would fill the book, only the book
would not be fit for the print."
"And what will the dear friend do?" I
ask him.
"Do?" he say, and his jaw set like the .
bulldog, "why I will win the old boy over,
of course; I will make him like it."
Ah, la, la! I ask M'sieu what could I,
the friend, do with the so mad fellow?
of the dear friend and of the beautiful
Kelene. And then it is one night that it
happen.
- It is the night such as is sometimes in
the winter, very cold, very clear, very
still still as It ever is in the hell that is
the battle front with the frost like the
iron and the sky like the dome of blue
eleel set with diamonds, the etars. The
sector held by the division of the General
de Villehardouin is in the country of the
bill, the mountain; the country where
the one small post, the narrow pass, may
become the key of the whole line, the
Thermopylae of the moment, that is. All
the day the artillery of the Boches it
have pound the line with the hell fire,
but as the sun go down it have cease. So
it have been for the many days, and so
for the many nights it have cease, and
the attackjthe grand assault of the in
fantry, it have not come. So it may be
that the General de Villehardouin is too
sure that this night also it will be as
many other nights.
After sunset It la that It come, the
Then it Is that the strange thing hap
pen," the what you call unaccountable
thing. There Is the pause, the lull. The
Boches, they come not on. And for the
moment it is quiet, very quiet by the
comparison with the uproar that have
gone before. Only at the one point of
the line the first line there ia the rattle
of the machine gun, the yelling of the
Boches. It is far away, for there is here
the bend of the line, the salient where is
the redoubt of the Troisvilles.
The face of the general It light up as
be hear it, and he say:
"Ah, Bori Dieu! the Troisvilles, it hold
out. The Chasseurs Alpin are there, and,
Pardleu! the few brave men they could
hold it against the thousands."
But in a few moments the rattle of
the machine guns, it cease, and the yell
ing of the Boches, and it is quiet; so
quiet it is that it is what you call un
cannee. Then the general's face it grow
dark again, and he say:
"Ah, Bon Dieu! the Troisvilles it have
also fall."
eagerness; but I listen, M'sieu, I listen
with all the ear, with all the brain.
You will doubt, M'sieu; you will not
believe, but on the honor of Rene Drouet
it Is known to all France, the message
that the machine gun send, and the mes
sage that is return, and the message that
came again. It happen all In the very
few moment, for the lull in the artillery
fire it is very brief.
The message, it is from the Trois
villes; it still hold out; it have repulse
the. Boches; it appeal for help.
r tell the general, and his face again
light up with the joy.
"Can you answer it?" he say.
"Pardieu! yes, with the machine gun
In the trench yonder, if there is the
time."
"Tell'-him," he say, "that help is com
ing. Ask him how long he can hold out."
I spring to the machine gun, pointing
into the air I answer him, I send the
message of the general, and I ask him:
' "In the name of the Bon Dieul who
are you?"
And the message come bck again:
"Rene, my friend, it is I, Jack Ber
trand. Tell the general we will bold out
till the hell it freeze ovalre!"
' I laugh, I shed the tear, Iam with the
joy so overwhelm. It is so like the dear,
brave, mad,, insouciant' Jack Bertrand,
this message that he send. .
Well, M'sieu, hardly have I the time to
tell the genera what- the daredevil,
Jack Bertrand, he say, when the artil
lery of the Boches it begin again. It is
like the several volcanoes erupting at the
same time. They establish the barrage
to prevent the counter attack that they
think will come; our second line it is like
the, what you. call, inferno. But upon
Tr-olsvilles in particular they hurl the
hell fire. For M'sieu will understand that
from the Troisvilles what have been our
first line it is, what you call, enfilade, to
the right and to the left; so that if they
win not the Troisvilles all their bravery,
all their loss and it have been frightful,
n we learn after It will be as nothing.
For when the counter attack shall come
there wilj be the hole made already- in
the new line they have establish where
our first line it have been.
' And the counter attack it come. In
deed, yes, M'sieu! Summon by the field
telephone, the reserves they pour upon
the second line now the first. In the
automobile, in the lorree the motor
truck, in the ambulance they come, any
thing to get there. They come to the
music of our artillery, hurling the three
elrell for the Boches'jtwo. for all their In
dustry. They come8td the music of the
guns of the Troisvilles still answering
the Boches' fire "till hell freeze ovalre."
I am with the general when the coun
ter attack it is prepare. His face it is
white, and very, very, grim; and from
time to time he pause to listen to listen
to the artillery of ours nnd the Boches
talking to each other, to listen to tho
puns of the Troisvilles. still hurling de
fiance at the foe. Once he suy to me:
"Rene, did you say It is the Lieuten
ant Bertrand that send the message?"
"Yes, general."
He smile the first time that night a
grim smile, and he say: '
"He Is the gallant soldier, Rene."
That is all, M'Bieu, but, ah, it is much
when General Armand -de Villehardouin
eay it.
It is half the hour to the dawn when,
after the artillery have hurl the last ter
rific hurricane of death upon the Boches,
that the rockets give the signal for our
brave poilus to go forward. The moon it
have risen at midnight, and it la still
blgh'ln the heaven, and by its light and
the light of the star bombs our poilus
climb out of the trenches. Like lions let
loose they go, M'sieu, yet with the order,
the sang-froid, the what you call, bull
dog determination, that makes the pollu
the terrible soldier that he is. "5"
I have implore the general that I bo
permit to go with the unit that will
bring rescue to the Troisvilles, and he
have say:
"Go, Rene, go; the dear friend, Lieu
tenant Bertrand, he is worthy the atten
tion at your hands."
And so, although I go to the pit of
hell, M'sieu, I go with the laugh on my
lips, tho Joy in my heart.
Ah, it is the grand fait d'armea,
M'sieu, that attak. We sweep the
Boches from the trenches they have won,
we send them back again where they
have come from: only there are so many,
eo pitifully many, that go not back again.
Ah, war is the terrible thing, and it sick
en the heart in me,to see eo many gal
lant fellows lying dead. I hate not the
foe, M'sieu, and, par le Bon Dieu! I think
I fight not the worse for it. 1
It Is dawn when we enter Troisvilles,
end there I see the dear, mad, glorious
Jack Bertrand. His head it la bandage
and the blood it have trickle down his
cheek, and his arm it is in the sling, but
for all that he smile when he see me, and
he say:
"It is good you have come, Rene, my
friend, for hell ls almost froze."
And so, M'sieu, today Is the dear
friend's wedding day, and the general,
Armand de Villehardouin, will give the
bride away; for it Is the beautiful Hel
ene, no other, and I am the groomsman.
Therefore. Msleu will pardon me If I
take the leave of him,- for the automobile
it have. wait already ten minutes by the
watch. Au Jrevoir, M'sieu, but not, I
hope, "till hill freeze ovalre."
lCortriht, 1917, by 3. Keeley
: i iii iii !
Cioly- Sees IHiiirn Tlhrooglhi By gladys nelson
.4 k I , . 1
Bp $1 fe
ICILY rushed
through the door
marked "private."
Her bat was in her
hand; her coat half
off. A minute later
she was at her ma
chine, typing rap
idly. Then ehe
stopped as sudden
ly as she started, looked out the window
and waved mechanically to the man
across the court.
She groaned to herself.
"Two years of the same nod and smile
in the morning; the same ride home in
the evening; the same talk of "when I
have perfected my feather-weight en
gine, dear V Everything the name!"
"Why the fireworks?" a cool voice
aoked as the door banged to, "You came
through the office so fast that there was
an awful draft, and I caught cold. -
"Oh, ? don't bother me," Cicily burst
out. ' Tm disgusted, discouraged, dis
contented, and every .other dla' you can
think of rolled up In one."
' Jean Kennedy, the Old Man's private
secretary, leaned against the high ma
hogany file case. Cicily looked at her.
The neatly waved blond, head. seemed
twice as neat and twice as blond against
the dark red-brown wood. The fllle lace
collar made a soft, white frame for the
Intelligent face, and the blue eyes grew
dark and serious as they looked down at
the girl.
"What's the matter, little Eva?" she
asked softly. "Has some one taken
Uncle Tom away from you?" She nod
ded toward the opposite window.
Cicily shook her bead and caught her
lower lip between her teeth.
"It Isn't that, Jeanle," she murmured
tearfully. "It's er that that blame
engine he's Inventing. It's taken such an
age and it's made" ehe paused and
lowered her voice "made him a
Blacker!" I
The blond head bent closer.
"Tell me about It, honey."
"He was drafted, and the authorities
exempted him!" f . '
"Wbyr.
"I don't know I"
"What are you going to do?" the Old
Man's secretary asked anxiously.
"Do?" Cicily asked. "Why, see Jiim
through, of course. We're engaged,
" y'know."
Jean looked at ber closely.
"Do you love him. Cissy?"
The brown head nodded,
"Certainly," answered, Btoutlr,,
There was a second's silence, then
Jean said quickly:
"Let me help you!"
Cicily turned and looked at the older
girl.
"You mean it?" she murmured Incred
ulously. The clever blend head came close to
the dark brown one.
"Leave it to me." ,
A week later no one would have known
Cicily. The soft brown hair was waved
immaculately and piled high above the
shadowy gray eyes. There was a new $60
blue serge suit that looked at least a hun
dred; a fluffy gray fox scarf that brought
out the pink in her cheeks, and a little
hat that fairly 6houted, ."Imported!"
The Big Ben expression was gone from
her face, too. And a look of studied in
difference added a -certain Broadway
' high-light to her whole make-up.
"You've been great, Ciss, dear," Jean
told her the seventh day that they had
been living together. "The . way you
have refused his invitations would do
credit to a stage celebrity with at least
sixty suitors." ; -
Ciclry straightened a huge corsage of
orchids and lily olj.the valley.
"If he comes tonight while I'm gone,
bo nice to him, won't you, Jeanft" was
ell the young girl said as she turned from
the glass.
The next morning she forgot to wave.
Jimmy Dale didn't seem to be work
ing. He didn't bend eagerly over the big
ttiee.tt pr-ftim to. OiSttwt part
of the little engine. He sat glancing
through a worn trade magazine, or look
ing at a neat brown head that was bent
intently over a typewriter.
"I don't blame her," he was saying
over and over again. "I was a fool to
think she cared so much. And Perry
Vincent is a regular chap yes, Perry's
there!"
c,Then he thought of the young fellow,
who had been constantly at Cicily'a side
for the last few days. He had made a
wonderful record in France. A hundred
and thirty-six German planes in a year,
and a commission to teach the American
boys to fly after the French fashion!
Some record! No wonder she couldn't
see anyone else!
And the next day an eager young face
was pressed close against the window a
number of times. The gray eyes were
troubled.
"He's gone, Jean," she said boftly.
'A month passed. There wasn't much
pink in the little face above, the fluffy
gray fox now. And the office across the
way was still vacant. -
Jean grew worried.
"You love Perry eo much, Cicily ?"
"Yes,, she admitted. "He means
everything to me, but I can't marry him
it doesn't seem like the square thing."
Jean looked bewildered.
"The square thing?" she repeated.
. Tbe Slji sodded. .T
"With Jimmy heaven knows where
dying of a broken heart."
"Oh!" And the blond head dropped
forward a little and hid the face of the
Old Man's clever secretary.
The girl went on slowly:
"He's going back to France, Jean un
less I marry him tomorrow!" There was
a little sob, and the gray eyes grew
tragic "I can't give him up, but I can't
do something that doesn't seem right
can I?"
V The phone rang, and Jean answered it.
"For you," she said quietly.
"Jimmy Dale!" she exclaimed.
"Where have you been?" '
There was a pause, then she continued
breathlessly:
"I can't see you now-Jean and I are .
dressing for the dinner the Country Culb
is giving for Perry Vincent- I'll see you
tomorrow, though."
"He's back!" ehe exclaimed aa she
turned from the phone. )
Jean nodded.. She didn't seem sur
prised. ' .
An hour later Cicily and Perry were
standing in a shaded corner of the conservatory-
Her eyes seemed more shad
owy than ever as they looked up at him.
Her pinkand silver lace dress made her
look like a freshly picked sweetpea. He
wore the uniform of a French aviator.
He handed her a little white box. She
opened it eagerly.
"My engagement ring, and my wed
ding ring!" she cxc)aime4 iscredulotulXi
"But, Perry, dear, I can't take either
of them." .
"Then I will ask to be sent back to
France," he said quickly as be thrust
them into his pocket and turned away.
"Yes, that la the best way," said Cicily
in a small voice of unutterable woe.
They hadn't noticed the couple across
the room until now.
"By Jove, that's Jimmy Dale!" Perry
exclaimed.
"And Jean!" Cicily added.
"The government has Just accepted
his airplane engine," he went on enthusi
astically. "And he la kissing her!" she exclaimed
In a surprised way, then she laughed
happily and looked at Perry in a way
that made him swear that his dreams
had been holding out on him.
, His arms were around her and a dia
mond ring was slipped on her left hand
before she 'could speak.
"And you will marry me tomorrow?'
he continued impetuously.
She looked up at him.
"You bet I will. Perry, darllnjr ." ah
said softly, then added under her breath
as she looked at Jimmy and Jean, "I'd
say that Cicily had seen you through!"
Perry looked at her.
"Did you aay something, dear?
She grinned, and the little face came
closer and closer. She nodded and mur
mured in a funny voice:
"Oh, what a wonderful, wonderful
world!"
iCeprtisnt, mr, by J, KmUtI