The Maupin times. (Maupin, Or.) 1914-1930, June 09, 1916, Image 3

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    The RedMirage
A Story of the French Legion
in Algiers
(AH rights reserved. The Bobbs-MerriU Co.)
Sylvia Omney, her lover, Richard Far
iuhar, finds, has fallen in love with Cap
tain Arnaud of the Foreign Legion. In
Captain Sower's room Farquhar forces
Sower to have Preston's I O. U's re
turned to him. Farqnhar is helped to his
rooms by Gabrielle Smith. Sower demands
an apology. Refused, he forces Farquhar
to resign his commission in return for
possession of Farquar's father's writ
ten confession that he had murdered Sow
er's father. Gabrielle saves Farquhar
from euicide. To shield Arnaud, Sylvia's
nance, tarqunar proteases to have stolen
war plans and tells the real culprit why
he did so. As Richard Nameless he joins
the Foreign Legion and sees Sylvia, now
Mme. Arnauu. meet Colonel Destinn.
Farquhar meets Sylvia and Gabrielle, and
learns irom corporal uoetz or trie col
onel's cruelty. Arnaud becomes a drunk
ard and opium smoker. Sylvia becomes
friendly with Colonel Destinn. Arnaud
becomes Jealous of Farquhar.
A beautiful woman, tired of
tier husband, flirts dangerously
with his superior and with his
Inferior In rank. With the In
ferior she is somewhat in love,
yet she sees her husband go to
shoot the lover without giving
any sort of warning. Is she
cruelly indifferent, or does she
look upon this as a good way to
get rid of temptation?
Sylvia Arnaud came out into the
clearing. She was still singing a lit
tle louder than before, as If in defiance
of a reawakening dread and In the
sudden hush her voice sounded lurlngly
"Vlens pros de moi, viens plus pres
' Mon amour t'appelle "
The passing shadow stopped midway
between darkness and darkness. The
light was on them both. There was a
smothered exclamation. A revolver
shot rang out and all was quiet again
The last echo of song hung in the vi
brating air. Then slowly, the mun
standing against the light, sank to
gether into a limp piteous heap. Col
onel Destinn raced across the Interven
ing space. His Indifference was gone.
He cursed somberly.
"The insolent devils One of my ruf
fians one of my ruffians name of
He lifted the unconscious head
against his shoulder, his experienced
hands wrenching open the breast of the
heavy military coat. Sylvia Arnaud
crept up to him. Her face was ashy
and expressionless, like that of a sleep
walker. He waved her impatiently
aside. .
"Don't stay here. There may be
some more of them. As you value your
life, run back to the villa and give the
alarm. Ah!" He sprang to his feet
instinctively, placing his body between
her and the three men who had started
out of the darkness. His hand had
flown to his pocket. "Who goes there?"
"The patrol, my colonel."
"Goetz you?" A sharp sigh of re
lief broke from between his set teeth.
Then he drew himself up. The red-hot
race froze to a deadly precision. "How
did you come here?"
"We were warned by a lady, my
"You heard that shot Did you see
no one?"
"Yes, my colonel."
"And did you not lay hands on him?'
"My colonel, it was beyond my duty.
It was Captain Arnaud."
Colonel Destinn bent over the map
spread out before him In an attitude of
concentrated attention. It was an unusual-looking
map, roughly outlined
and almost destitute of the ordinary
network of mountains and rivers. , At
the top a single town bad been marked,
and from thence downward there ran
a dark red line, almost undeviatlng,
which cut the upper part of the white
linen in two distinct halves. On either
side of this line there were towns
marked and the beginnings of water
ways, but in no Instance did these ex
tend beyond an inch on either hand. It
was as though the red line had ab
sorbed everything, and that what lay
beyond Its Immediate radius was of no
account, a blank white waste of de
populated country. The lower part of
the map had been painted yellow, and
there the red Uns faltered and broke
' off. Colonel Destlnn's pencil hovered
over the Jagged end, and his brows
were knitted into an expression of
thwarted Impatience. On the other side
of the table an elderly man wearing
the uniform of a French army doctor
sat and stroked his neatly-trimmed
beard with a reflective hand. From
time to time he glanced doubtfully at
his companion, and at last, receiving
no attention, gave vent to ar apolo
getic cough.
"I am afraid I have come at an in
opportune moment," he said. "You
are busy. The matter Is of really no
Destinn started and looked up.
"ParHnn m. I was absorbed in a
difficult calculation. You are mistaken.
The matter la of importance. LIf Is
no doubt cheap out here, but economy
has to be practiced even In cheap
things. Besides, order has been estab
lished in Sidl-bel-Abbes, and any act
of wanton aggression must be pun
ished with a hard hand. You say the
bullet has been extracted?"
"Did it suggest anything to you?"
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
His small brown eyes had shifted from
the colonel's face to the floor.
It forced me to the conclusion that
the assailant was in possession of an
army revolver stolen, without doubt."
Without doubt," Colonel Destinn
agreed. "The man Is doing well?"
"As well as can be expected. There
was considerable loss of blood follow
ing on the extraction. Also fever."
Next week I am taking a fresh
batch with me down south to the pres
ent terminus. Will our English friend
be in a fit state to bear us company?"
"Undoubtedly If he is not sent back
to his regiment for the present. Other
wise " His expression was signifi
At that moment Captain Arnaud en
tered and he got up stiffly., Destinn
glanced over his shoulder.
Ah. eood morning Well. I shall
not detain you any longer, doctor. In
the course of the day I may have a
look at the sufferer, and I shall then
give further orders. The culprit you
can leave to me. Sit down, won't you,
The young officer remained standing.
He returned the doctor's greeting me
chanically and his features were blank.
As the door closed Colonel Destinn
threw down his pencil and their eyes
"Sit down."
This time Arnaud obeyed. The elder
man bent forward with his chin rest
ing on his hand.
"In the ordinary course of events I
should have had you arrested last
night," he said. "If I did not do so It
was because there was something un
usual In the case that interested me.
Even in the Legion madness has its
method. A man in your position does
not go out of his way to shoot down a
poor harmless devil .without reason.
You had a reason and I wish to know
For God's sake, don't jest with me!
Do what you mean to do and have
Jest With
God's Sake, Don't
mercy enough not to turn this business
Into a burlesque. If it Is a confession
you want "
Destinn rose, and his heavy fist rest
ed clenched on the table.
"I have nsked for your Justification,"
he said. "For ten minutes I am pre
pared to Judge you by my own laws.
It Is an offer worth accepting, Arnaud."
"He Is my enemy."
"For what reason?"
"There are only two reasons pos
sible. When we bate, it is either be
cause the object has Injured or bene
fited us unbearably. I have both these
reasons to Justify me."
"You have still five minutes to ex
plain, Captain Arnaud."
"Explain! He laughed, and in his
laughter there already sounded a note
of suffering becoming intolerable. "Ex
plain In five minutes what It has taken
months for me to realize my God
and yet it Is simple enough. A woman
the eternal cause, tho eternal expla
nation!" "Your wife?"
"Who else?"
"I have beard rumors. Arnaud."
"I have lost my wife; I lost her
months ago I never possessed her. It
was a dream. She fell In love with me
on a moonlight night when the regi
mental band played in the Cercle and
there was glamour and color every
whereover Sldl-bel-Abbes, over me,
over my life, over my love for her. We
know that glamour, my colonel. It
makes madmen out of us. It blinded
her. I followed her to England while
the glory of it all was still strong in
her imagination. I made her throw
over the man to whom she was virtual
ly bound "
"The man whom you tried to mur
der last night?"
"You're right you guessed right
That was the man. I made her break
with him. It would have been a
damnable thing to have done if I had
known but I never knew for certain.
I refused to see for myself, and she
never told me. Perhaps, anyhow, it
wouldn't have mattered. All's fair in
love, and I didn't care who suffered.
But that wasn't all. I was In debt. An
international spy had got hold of
and bribed and threatened me al
ternately. To get out of his clutches,
I gambled like a fool and lost lost all
the time. At last I yielded. I made
use of my friendship with an English
officer to get hold of what I believed
to be' valuable information. Oh, I did
it badly enough. They found me out
and there wasn't an inch between me
and ruin. God knows what would
have been the end. I Just sat there
and waited for them to make up their
minds. The man I had ousted was op
posite me, and I waited for him to
laugh. He came forward and accepted
the responsibility. You understand
he was one of them, and he tied their
hands. His friend held the door open
for him and he went out. It was all
done in a minute. I was saved.
"I paid. It was true my wife's ideal
had been saved but only for the time.
Little by little she got to know me
and to compare. Oh, she said nothing;
but I saw it, heard it, felt it in every
movement, every look, every tone. The
man she had cast off became the hero,
the realization of her dreams, and I
was what I had been from the begin
ning & neurotic weakling in a uni
form, a roue who had kept clean for
her sake. She shrank from me and I
knew she hated me. And he was in
my power. I don't know whether I
meant to kill him or not. I had ceased
to think. Last night chance had
the reins, rerhaps at the last mo
ment I might have held back, for the
thing sickened me but I saw her. She
stood opposite him in the moonlight
and she was smiling. I heard him call
her name and then it was all done
in a flash I shot him down."
The dry cracked voice broke off.
Arnaud staggered to his feet his hands
outstretched in a movement of tragic
resignation. "That Is my explanation.
Make an end," he said.
Colonel Destinn did not move. In
the yellow sun-scorched atmosphere his
own face looked livid, and there were
fresh lines about the mouth which gave'
it a deeper, more ruthles power and
concentration. The pencil with which
he had been playing lay snapped In
half in the middle of the table.
"Your ten minutes are over, and you
have Justified yourself," he said. "You
are free."
"You are liberating a madman. What
I have done I shall do again"
"What Is that to me?" said Colonel
Destinn, smiling. .
They watched each other in silence.
In Arnaud's eyes there were fear and
incredulous question. He made a vague
uncertain movement as though groping
through darkness. Then came the sud
den Inevitable collapse of an exhausted
personality and the man was once more
the automaton, the instrument of a pre
dominating will. Without a word he
saluted and turned and staggered from
the room.
A Grave Is Opened.
It was midday. All Skll-bel-Abbes
seemed to be asleep. The streets were
almost empty, and a lazy hush hung
over the deserted cafes where a few
indefatigable tourists dozed beneath
the gnyly striped awnings, watched
over by waiters themselves half coma
tose with sleep and Indifference.
In the Cafe du Tonkin the repose
was absolute and unashamed. There
was only one watcher. Presently foot
steps sounded on the stone flags out
side. She got up and crossed the un
even floor to the door. Her movements
were lithe and noiseless like an ani
mal's, and not one of the heavy sleep
ers stirred. In the narrow passage
which led from the street to the en
trance of the cafe a man In European
dress waited for her. There was some
thing furtive and restless in his
movements that suggested a fear
more subtle than that of dan
ger. The girl touched him on bis arm,
and without a word he followed her
across the room of sleepers through a
curtained doorway into a second apart
ment Here there was no door or win
dow. A charcoal brazier burned in the
center, and its dull sullen glow lighted
up the shadows and revealed phantom
outlines of low divans and oriental
tables, and bid their dirt and disorder
in soft mysterious twilight
The girl put her hands upon her
companion's shoulders and looked up
at him. He had removed his hat and
the somber light spread a pale repel
lent reflection over bis white features.
It was as though an artificial life had
been conjured into the face of a dead
"You are changed, Desire. What
has happened In these days? Has there
been no comfort for you?"
His eyes opened. He threw back
his head so that they looked each other
In the face.
Boys Often Spend
Too Much
Money on Girls
(Copyright, 1916.)
Pleasures are like poppies spread
You seize the flower, He bloom is shed!
Or like the snowflake in the river
A moment white, then melts forever.
f -
The most foolish course a young
man who works hard to earn his
money can pur
sue is to lavisn
his earnings on
girls, with the
hope of making
himself popular
with them.
He could make
no greater mis
take, for the very
girls who accept
his ice cream and
bonbons, theater
tickets, etc., are
the ones who give
him the name of
spendthrift. They
infer that he can
not keep what he
earns, and they
might as well
have the benefit of It as anyone. If
by springtime he has not been able to
save enough to buy a new suit of
clothes even Inexpensive ones the
girls on whom he lavished his money
will be the first to comment on his
shabbiness, and decline to be seen in
his company.
Popularity that is, the honest kind
cannot be bought. It is given spon
taneously and for sterling worth. A
sensible young man measures his
garment according to his cloth, as the
old saying goes. That is, he lets a
crowd of Jolly girls who expect to be
"treated" every time they happen to
meet a man, severely alone. That is
a sufficient and dignified rebuke to
girls who suggest they'd like a soda,
The majority of iren are too sensi
ble to buy popularity. They would
rather Just one nice girl would ad
mire them, one who would have her
dinner before they started out for a
stroll of an evening or to the theater,
and would refuse to gorge herself
after the show at his expense.
' The greatest fear many a mother
feels is that her boy is spending too
much money on girls. It sets the pace
for reckless living and has brought
many a well-meaning youth to ruin.
A girl who accepts the attentions of
a young man who she knows earns
his money by toil should study the
situation before she accepts an invi
tation from him that calls for a car
riage If she wears her pretty, filmy
party dress. She should know teat
he could afford such extravagance
only now and then. If she really has
his interest at heart she will wear a
dress that cannot spoil or that laun
dering will make as good as new, and
either take a car to their destination
or walk If the distance Is not too
great and the weather is fine.
A inan can well understand such a
girl will make a good, prudent wife.
His earnings would be safe in hsr
koeplng. If an employer finds that
a young man has not been able to lay
by a dollar of his earnings for a
twelvemonth, his declaration that he
had spent it all on girls would bring
him sharp criticism, and the state
ment would sound almost unbelieva
ble. . In looking backward, reckoning all
the money spent uselessly on girls,
no wondir the squanderer grows bit
terly angry with himself. It has been
a case of a fool and his money. It
does not take some men very long to
learn their little lesson. Others are
years in finding out that the saving,
industrious man, who knows how to
take care of his bank roll has far out
distanced him even in the opinion of
the frivolous girls. Money is hard to
earn. It Bhould not be allowed to
sift through a man's poc'kot like sand3
In the hourglass.
It Is a man's reputation for prudent
ly saving which brings him respect,
admiration and popularity in a community.
The Sport Hat
Despite the fact that pocket3 are
very generally in evidence In dressy
suits, as well as on sport garb, the
designers of accessories have advanced
little bags made to match hats, and
usually evolved in colors that offer
decorative contrast with the costume.
One of the latest Ideas is shown In
a Paris hat, which is of maroon-colored
suede In sailor shape and which
has a crown of white kid. This hat is
accompanied by a bag of the suede,
which has a cut-out design In brown
and white matching the band on the
Another expression of the same Idea
is a hat of taffeta with a very high
crown, made of platted taffeta and
caught through the center with a col
ored velvet ribbon.
Many College Presidents Averse to
Students Being Employed While
Obtaining an Education.
Becky Sharp was the first society
woman on nothing a year. She made
the phrase famous and the fact infa
mous. But there are circumstances
under which nothing a year can be a
The secretary of the Christian asso
ciation at the University of Pennsyl
vania announces that over 300 Penn
sylvania men are already supplied
with work to help them through their
college year. In other colleges, per
haps in every college, men are being
so aided to get their education. And
a surprising number of these men
have literally nothing a year besides
the income from their work.
There will always be a serious doubt
in the mind of college men whether
working one's way through college
really pays in the end, the Philadel
phia Evening Ledger says. College
presidents have frequently been quot
ed as advising students to borrow
while they are at college so that their
minds and their time may be free for
their college work and pleasures. The
two together make up a college life.
A book education without a social edu
cation is hardly worth having.
The college man who works his way
through misses much, to be sure, in
social contact, in the graces of inter
course with other men. His college Is
chiefly a place for lectures and
"exams." The larger education he
gets, in pursuit of his tuition fees and
room rent, is hardly of the polished
and suave kind which college should
bring. It differs not at all from what
he will meet later on.
College as a preparation for living
ought to be broader than any one life.
As a foundation for character It ought
to be broader than any career. That
is why the man who works his way
through really loses because he iden
tifies college with life too Boon.
Writer Claims Old Impression That
They Express Thought Is Sim
ply a Delusion.
Our molders of opinion our preach
ers and politicians and editors and
publishers are not Bpeaklng in order
so much to convince us as to make us
act or vote or feel with them. Their
words are chains of phrases, strung
together almost undesignedly, with a
view of pulling us to the cause or
party or Idea they are supporting.
It is a curious delusion that words
express thought, the New Republic re
marks. The object of most words 1b
to short-circuit thought. Phrases like
democracy, liberty, militarism, the
principles of Justice and humanity, are
not primary meanings at all. They
are epithets hurled at us to arouso
some desired resentment, or they are
spotlights guaranteed to create cer
tain warm emotional glows of assent
In the mind which receives them. It
is the reaction they touch off that
makes them significant, not their
meaning. WordB are such deadly
things not because they mean some
thing, but because they get wrapped
up with our emotion and pull It
up with them when they are seized.
In support of the articulate emotion
there may be any number of highly
rational arguments which have come
first. It Is the antagonism or the glow
of approval, while tho evidence has
grown almost vegotatlvely around the
Can bad woman have an
honest love? Can she be truer
In her affection for man than
that man's wife? la Arnaud,
played with by hit doll wife
Sylvia, at all excusable In going
to the Jewess?
"Those other boys might be so rough or careless In their speech!"
F all the weak, Inconclusive,
modern parents is this what
we've come to?" said Professor
Marshall to his wife after a sceno with
their eighteen-year-old daughter,. In
Dorothy Canfleld's new novel, "The
Bent Twig."
After eighteen years of "training"
Sylvia manifests a desire to do what
other young people are doing, to drift
with the majority, to enjoy people and
pastimes not approved by her parents.
Having allowed their daughter to make
decisions all these years, in tho hope
that she would thus learn to make
right decisions, the father cries out
helnlesslv when her decision In the
first really serious situation is opposed
to the parental Judgment. He is
tempted to appeal to "parental author
ity." We must reach out the hand to
pull her back, or Bhe will make a hor
rible mistake!
But the mother sticks to her prin
ciples. They had taught their children
to think Independently, and now It was
Impossible to use force. They had
tried to give the children standards of
conduct and by these they would stand.
She had faith that In a crisis these
standards and Ideals would pull her
The most that parents can do for
their children Is to give them stand
ards and Ideals that will serve In emer
gencies as well at In the routine of
life. But how often are we tempted
to lose faith In our own teachings, and
to resort to lock and key, as was Pro
fessor Marshall! How often do we
see no choice but that between force
and perdition!
As we become more experienced In
this business of parenthood our feel
ing of responsibility grows upon us,
we realize bow much better our Judg
ment Is than that of the children, we
realize more and more the dangers
and the temptations that beset them.
And of course we wish to save them
from these dangers, we wish to give
them the full benefit of our su
perior Judgment. But there is a limit
beyond which the child simply will
not profit from the wlBdom of others,
except In a negative way that la, In
the way of doing nothing at all. Nor
should we deny the child the privilege
of acquiring his Judgment by means of
the kinds of experiences that have
given us our Insight.
At any rate, we cannot save the
child by building a fence around him,
as the mother of a ten-year-old boy
tried to do, to protect him from the
rough manners and "bad language1
of other boys. The mother had kopt
the child with hor almoBt constantly,
when he was not In echool. In time
she contrived to delegate portions ol
this burden to paid deputies. When
It was suggested to the mother that
the boy might profit more from out
door games and the companionship of
other boys, she expressed the fear that
some of thoso "other boys" might be
so rough, or so careless In their
If the home Is not capable of com
pensating for the roughness of boys
and the giggles of girls, he will surely
not be saved by padlocks and shutters.
For a few years this mother will be
ablo to shield her child from the In
considerate rudeness of the world out
side, Just as sho was shielded In her
youth. But in the absence of a will
and a steadfast purpose, her child will
either succumb to the temptations that
are sure to come when ho gets beyond
his mother's protection, or he will be
obliged to retire for the rest of his
days to tho only kind of life for which
tho Becluslou and darkness have fit
ted him.
By tying the hands you may keep
one from doing harm, but you cannot
thus destroy the desire to do the objec
tionable deed. It Is better to leave the
hands free, and to train thorn to de
what you approve.
He Knew Their Weakness.
During the reign of Louis XV oi
France the light chaise came into fash
Ion, and great ladies of Paris were ac
customed to drive In them about tho
city. But beautiful hands are not al
ways strong ones; accidents began to
occur more and more frequently In the
streets. Consequently, says Das Buch
fuer Alle, the king bosought the min
ister of police to do something, since
the lives of pedestrians were constant
ly in danger.
"I will do whatever Is In my power,"
replied the police minister. "Your
majesty desires that these accidents
cease entirely?"
The king replied, "Certainly."
The next day there appeared a royal
ordinance that ordored that, in the fu
ture, ladles under thirty years of age
should not drive chalsos through the
streets of Paris. That seems a mild
restriction; but It is said that scarcely
a woman from that time on drove hor
own chaise. The police minister know
that few women would care to adver
tise the fact that thoy were over thirty
and that the rest would probably be
too old to drive, anyway.
Gilbert Stuart.
Qllbert Stuart (1755 1828) was born
In Narragansett, II. I., the son of a
snuff-grinder. At the age of fifteen,
without any Instruction whatever, he
began to paint portraits that attract
ed the attention of a young Scotch
artist named Alexander, who took him
to Scotland in 1772. In 1774 he re
turned to America, where he re
mained for a year. Ho went back to '
London In 1775, and for a short time
be played the organ In a small church.
In that city. In 1778 he entered the
studio of Benjamin West as a pupil,
but later set up a studio of bis own,
and remained working thoro for some
years. He came back to this country
once more In 1792, and painted many
portraits in New York and Philadel
phia, among them the famous "1796
Washington." In the year 1806 he sot
tied In Boston. His fame rests large
ly upon bis many portraits of Washington,