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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (April 24, 1913)
me MINISTER y POLICE By HENRY MONTJOY Copyright. 1*12. Tho Bobto-Merrill Company. Synopsis. “THE MINISTER OF POLICE/’ by Henry Mountjoy, is a romance of Paris during the Louis XV reign, a period when Europe was in a condition of fo ment and unrest; when Voltaire was breaking to pieces the shackles of re ligion; when Rousseau at the Cafe de Regenance was preaching the right to think; and when a thousand men, some In the gutter, some near the throne, were preparing the great explosion of the revo lution. Madame Linden, an Austrian lady, after completing a simple mission to the French count, lingers on in Paris, enjoy ing the gay life there. De Sartines, the minister of police, thinks she has some other motive than pleasure in delaying her departure and surrounds her with spies to discover, if possible, whether she is dabbling in state plots. De Lussac is a noble of exceptional character of that period. Handsome, with all the elegance of a man of the court, there is still about him something that stamps him as a man apart, some thing of the visionary, the enthusiast and the poet, rare in that age of animal lust, chilling wit and embroidered brutality. He is, in fact, steeped in the philosophy of Rousseau and is trying to put this phil osophy into practice through his connec tion with a secret society that is plotting the downfall of the state. Before he has gone far enough to incriminate himself he falls In love with the beautiful Austrian, who persuades him his method of righting the wrongs of humanity is impracticable, and ends by promising to go to Vienna with her to live. CHAPTER IV, Continued. A wrangling sound came from below stairs. “He Is quarreling with Rosine. He keeps the whole house in order. He is becoming Insufferable.” “Why, then, do you not dismiss him?” asked De Lussac, who had taken his seat on the fauteull and with the boldness of a lover was caressing one of the gloves which she had cast thefie. "Because, dear Monsieur de Lussac, though he has only been in my service a few days, I find him invaluable—he is my chaperon.” “Tour chaperon?” “Yes.” Still arranging the flowers, she touched a bell near the window. In ft momqnt the door opened and Placide 'appeared. “Placide,” said his mistress, “kindly" take my gloves to Rosine. Where are they? Ah, I left them upon the fau teull. Monsieur de Lussac, may I trou ble you to pass my gloves to Placide?” De Lussac, biting his lip with morti fication, handed the gloves, which the surly old man carried oft, closing the door behind him. “You see, he Is quite useful,” said Madame la Baronne, finishing the ar rangement of her flowqrs. "I really did not want a man servant. I engaged him half from pity and also because he was so quaint. He is some relation of my cook. Do you ndt agree with me that he is useful?” "He may be useful, madame,” replied De Lussac, who had recovered his tem per, “but this I will say—he is not hon est.” “Placide not honest 1 In what way, Monsieur le Comte?” “He has robbed me of your gloves.” He rose from the cpueh and advanced ns If to take her hand. She stretched it toward the bell and he paused. “Monsieur le Comte, pray take your seat again on the fauteull, and I will take this chair, and so we shall not weary Placide. Now, let us talk. I am touched by your confidence in me, and I have heard the declaration you made to me with mixed feelings.” “Oh, madame I” “One moment! That declaration from a man to a woman in my position may be the slncerest compliment, or the reverse. In which way am I to take it?” "In this way, madams,” replied the young man, rising from the couch and standing before her as a courtier might stand before a queen. "When I said •love.’ I said In that word all that love implies—respect, lifelong devotion. Without putting it in words, I asked you to share my future and my for tune as my wife." Madame la Boronne rose from her chair and bowed. Standing before her, he bowed In return. It was a quaint picture, in keeping with the dress and the elegant customs of the time. He did not again attempt to take her hand; she had at a stroke put a gulf between them such as exists be tween a powerful potentate and the ambassador of an Inferior power. "To your offer, monsieur,” she made only reply that I thank you sincerely for the compliment It contains; that, frankly, I have never met a man I liked so much as I like”—she blushed slightly—"the Comte de Lussac; that I have taken a deep Interest In hirn, if for no other reason than because he is so unlike the fops and fools of Paris; and that Just for that reason and be cause I study the welfare of those whom I like, I ought to decline hlB offer. To do so tgould merely be fair.” 'Madame—” "One moment,” replied this extraor dinary woman who to the genuine was always genuine. "You are Monsieur le Comte de Lussac, with large estate and a splendid fortune, if you do not spoil It by entangling yourself with the enemies of the king; you have fallen In love with a woman of no fortune, no position, ah adventuress—” "Cease, madame!” cried De Lussac violently, rising from his seat as though he were addressing an enemy. "Not another word against the woman I love. Fortune, position! Those words are blasphemy against the holy spirit of love. Adventuress? What care I if she Is an adventuress? Call her what you will, you can not deceive my heart or tell me against my understanding and Tfiy Instinct that she Is anything P*T87,“ — - >/ *" ""Actually in his anger ahd jelense of the baroness this idealist had almost forgotten her presence and the fact that he was defending her against herself. The baroness, in amazement, stared at him as one stares at a prodigy. Had this man, then, with the clear Bight of a passionate and lofty understanding, divined In her the true woman whose presence she herself had not troubled to search for? Her life was far from blameless, In the eyes of strict virtue— love affairs, money affairs, intrigues, filled the story of her past; yet at heart—the only consideration that mat ters at all, when all Is said and done— at heart was she as he declared her to be? She had never thought of the question before. She looked at her self as a woman of the world -who had led the life of the world. Had any other man said to her, "You are a blameless ■woman,” she would have laughed In his face, or, more probably, smacked It, taking the statement as a piece of cynicism. But De Lussac did not make a statement; he enunciated a fact, he spoke with all the fervor of a man who knows; with the conviction of surety. It was fascinating—fascinating as waking up on a December morning, opening one’s window and finding May day. Madame Linden was not, how ever, a woman to temporise with pleas ant fictions. With the pleasure one feels In destroying a fair thing, once ours but taken from us by fraud, she turned to her defender. "Monsieur,” said she, “I have already had four lovers.” "And what, madame," replied the dis ciple of Jean Jacques, "have those lovers to do with me? Do you for a moment think that I belong to that order of men whose philosophy debars the needs of life and the consideration of the human heart? When J ask you to give yourself to me, I ask for your future, not fob your past. Love is the water of life. God sent you into the world with a full pitcher to And me; that you have on the way given drink to four thirsty men, Is that a reason for my finding the water less sweet? But this I will swear, you have never given of that gift but for generous reasons.” "Monsieur," replied she, confused by this extraordinary speech, almost on the verge of tears, “your philosophy confounds me.” “Oh, madame, I am only the mouth piece of a philosopher, the priest of a religion, the imitator of a man divine because of his humanity. What love I have for my fellow men and whatever broadness of view, was first taught and given to me by him—Jean Jacques Rousseau.” “An before such a priest,” replied the baroness, “a confession is useless that is a half-confession. What I have said to you, monsieur. Is but the begin ning. Well, then, listen. The woman you would marry despite'the fact I have told ^ou is a woman weak In many ways. She is fond of the material things of the world—of dress, of gaiety, of pleasure—she is spiteful very often to other women, and she has a passion for matching what bralnB she has against the brains of men, often In very petty ways; she is a woman who does not brook contradiction. The man who marries her must be content with her love; her mind she retains as her own property, settled upon her before mar riage. Well, monsieur, what do you pay of such a woman?” “Only this,” said De Lussac, sinking on his knees beside her and taking her hand. "Only this: I love her.” He raised the white tapering fingers to his lips and kissed them; then pass ing his arm round her waist and draw ing her toward him, their lips met, clung together; they breathed each other. In a moment and at that magic touch, the passion for him that had been slowly gathering in her heart be came vividly alive; his youth, the dawn of his life, the springtime of his man hood, became part of her. He had read her aright—the heart that no man had touched fully till now had awakened. The woman of the world was no longer there. The world Itself was forgotten —for a moment. "Listen to me," she said, holding him away from her as though she wished to gaze at him and touch him at the same time. "You have made me love you; you have spoken to me of love as a priest might speak of religion; let us pause for a moment, even as we are—would that we could always re main even as we are, like people on a height gazing at a fair country! Tell me, have you ever cared for another?” For a moment De Lussac was silent. "You do not answer me?” 'T do not answer you, because I am thklng how strange It Is that before I met you I care for another woman, and that your Image entering my mind shattered her Image, destroyed It as a sunbeam destroys a shadow." "Who was It?” "You have seen her today.” "Ah! Madame d’Harlancourt? You do not care for her still?” “For me, she Is not In the world.” He sprang to his feet and Madame Linden, turning with a little cry, found that Placlde had entered the room. "Why did you not knock?” cried the baroness angrily. "Is that the man ner for a servant to enter a room?” “Madame,” replied Placlde, “I did knock, but you were so preoccupied—” "Hold your tongue!” "Yes, Madame.” "Go. But stay—why did you come? I did not ring.” “I came, madame, to ask you at what time you required the carriage to take you to Compiegne.” "At 2 o'clock. Have everything ready. You know you are to accom pany me?" -~"Yes, madame." He went out and the baroness turned to her lover. "Fortunately, It was only Placlde. One never minds him. And now, my friend, sit down beside me here on the fauteuil, for I have something serious to say—no, do not take my hand until I have finished speaking; then take It, and keep It forever, or forever leave It. Listen: you say you love m«.” "I love you.” “You would give up everything for me?” “I would give up my soul." "I ask you for a gift of far less value. I ask you to give up your ambition.” “Never, for my only ambition Is to possess you.” “Now you are talking like a lover, that Is, a person more and yet less than a man. By your ambition, I mean the intrigues against the state la which you are engaged and which will Tjrlhg you to ruin. You wish for me, and I am your’s but only on the condltloni that you leave Paris when I leave It, Join me in Vienna, and renounce forever these plots and conspiracies which will end in the ruin of France and will ln clljfe^a^wamgyltable ruin.-' ■ Whatyoa ass from mVnfjd’ Is my soul,” replied the yCung man, rising and pacing the floor. "Have It so. I ask for your soul, but for no bad purpose. I know you In timately, as only a woman can know the man she loves. I know your am bition, and I honor you for it. I came here from Vienna to study the state of France; I see all the elements of dis aster and ruin; I see a house aboup to fall, and 1 would pluck you fcobrf the ruins.” “I, whose whole ambition Is to be one of the architects of that ruin!” "There are others to fill your place. And mark this, no man can ruin a state, states ruin themselves. Why should you, young, innocent, wealthy, with all the elements of happiness in your heart, why should you be crushed in the Ice Jam of folly?” De Lussac ceased pacing the floor and gazed at her for a moment, as If drinking in her words. Then he took ‘ i • her hand, led her to one of the window* of the room and flung It open. The sounds of the Rue Coq Heron, all sorts of weird cries of old Paris, filled the room; the cry of the street hawkler came across the little courtyard, the blind man’s pipe, the rumble of a hack ney-coach and the footsteps of the passersby. "That Is why,” said he, pointing be fore her. "Look! Look at those peo ple; look at their faces; see that wom an, that rag picker, who Is herself a bundle of rags. And this Is not a mean street, but the Rue Coq Heron; and this is nothing In a city given over to starvation, misery and despair; filled with a people whose blood has been sucked by a vampire king and a vam pire courtesnn." She closed the window. "Tomorrow,” said she, gently leading him from It. “those people, should they 1 destroy their vampire king, would turn ! vampires themselves; out of that gut ‘ ter another king would arise as surely " as another sun will dawn tomorrow. ' What you are attacking Is not the evil i of the king and court, but the evil that lies In the human heart. By the fierce overthrow of the existing state of things will you alter the heart of men? ! Never, never, never! No more than by ! furiously destroying a bad crop will ! you make new corn grow. Destruction my friend. Is the logic of a madman. You would raise the people by ruining the nobles, when your policy ought to be to ruin the nobles by raising the ! people." Then, turning to the window, ; she paused for a moment, gazed out at ; the street, and turned again. "It seems to me, from my experience j of the world, that all conspirators are . children. One can not help loving them , as they beat their bare palms on the , door, break their toys, succeed some times In their little revolutions, which, . however, leave the great world somi ' how the same aa before.” She came to . him where he was sitting with his face . between his hands, drew them away . from his face and kissed him. Then taking him by the hand, she talked to . him, talked to him the philosophy of , humanity divorced from the philosophy • of hate, spoke simply and truly and well. With humor and logic and that bell-llke voice that was In itself an argument, she led his mind as a child ! is led by a firm and gentle hand to , the heights of her point of view. "And now,” finished she, “choose, my : friend, which you will have. Myself, i my future, my love and the power to work for your fellow-men by rational 1 methods—or the course you are now , pursuing and the ruin It will lead to.” He stood up, took both her hands and held them while he spoke, looking [ Into her eyes as he spoke. “For you I would deny my religiqn and my country, renounce my wealth 1 and title, walk barefoot through the world and fling my soul to Satan, If by | so doing I could buy you paradise." "Then you will leave France with i me?” "I will.” ‘Forget your enmity to the king?” i ”1 will, for you have shbwn me the ■ hatefulness of personal enmity. Your i philosophy will be my philosophy. With the same aim, let us work by different i methods." He folded her In his arms. "Now leave me,” she said. "I have • affairs to arrange before I start for Complegne. I will return tomorrow i afternoon. Will you meet me here at 3 o’clock?” “I will be here. And your address at , Complegne?” i "My address will be the Villa Rose : Complegne, the first house as you en I ter the town by the Paris road.” Continued Next Week. Common Life Heroes. From the Moline Mall. In this age of get all you can along line* ' of least reslstence, and the casting of hon esty to the winds, It is pleasant to note an exception, to the rule. These are found occasionally. Twenty years ago a Kan 1 sas City bank was swept under by the ' panic, and closed It doors owing 363,000 to ' depositors. Willard P. Holmes, one of the owners, wasn’t more responsible for the debt than 1 others. It had come through no special fault of his. Times, as nley will, aim , ply had got tight and forced a bust-up— that’s all you could say about it. More over, HolraeB’ personal fortune went with the rest. He had been used and his wife had been used to living well. Now, In middle life, they found themselves strand ed, with nothing but a small equity In a mortgaged home. By law Holmes could have gone Into 1 bankruptcy and thus cleared himself of , every legal obligation. Men do that ev ery day and don’t worry about the other fellow. But the Holmses were better than law honest. Their friends had put money Into that bank, believing In him. It was up to them, therefore, to see that every lost penny should be paid back. ’The other day Holmes repaid the last penny, principal and Interest, and took the last receipt. To do it has meant 20 years of scrimping, of struggle; Bcrlmp , lng by both, struggle by both. For the wife, to be sure, bore the brunt of It. As Holmes says, "She hfelped all the way.’’ Somehow we like to know of such peo 1 pie. They keep your faith sweet. “Joe Davis, Martyr.” From the Chicago Tribune. In a little magazine published by all Iowa seed concern there appears a little sermon on road Improvements that ought to be read by every farmer in this region of bad roads. The sermon is entitled "Joe . Davis, Martyr," and It Is Illustrated by two photographs taken by the editor, Henry Field, of Shenandoah, la. They show a broken wooden bridge and Joe Davis’ wrecked shelter engine. They do not show Its owner, for he was In a hos pital—dying. The bridge he and his engine broke through was old, wooden, with worm eat en pine stringers. The road commission ers are going to put In a concrete culvert now. That doesn’t help Joe, or Joe’s wid ow and his six children. The state of Iowa has lost a good citizen, hard work ing, useful. It was not economy to keep that rotten bridge. It was waste, Mr. Field declares there are 60,000 such rotten bridge In Iowa alone. Then there are probably that many or more In Illi nois. As the Tribune pointed out the oth er day, Iowa has spent 311.0,000,000 on her roads and got In return some of the worst In the country. Illinois has a record as bad. The situation was not created by lack of money, but by Its foolish outlay. How long are these two commonwealths to go on pouring taxes through a sieve for the sake of petty politicians and their Jobs? For Posterity. A ^luffraget was laying a corner stone. "What glijjl wo put under it?” was the question. "Samples of the current coins,” was suggested. "No,” declared the leader, "the men used to do that. We’ll put a hobble skirt, a bunch of puffs and a style book for 1913.” A Wilson Impression. From the Correctlonvllle News. There was little balm for the hidebound party man In President Wilson’s Inaug ural. He emphasized deeds not democrat, , service not salaries, humanity not hand ‘ outs, practicalities not Probably no little hint dropped by any ‘ body else for some time has fallen with such a d s. thud as the one that office seekers need not call at the White House. j Quick, Heroic Work. j Mrs. Ernest Still, of Atlanta, Ga., saved • her 6-month-old baby by placing the little j one In a steamer trunk, locking It up and dragging it in a fireproof compartment through a wall of flame. Mrs. Still was P severely burned, but the baby was entirely ; unharmed. / “THE CLIMATE OF WESTERN CANADA.” AN IMPORTANT FACTOR IN CAN ADA’S IMMIGRATION. A letter dated February 2, 1913, pub lished in a "People’s Voice’’ column in a Swedish paper, while dealing with other conditions in Canada, such as grain yield, social conditions, etc., says: “We have had fine weather un til New Year’s, when some snow fell and it was cold for a few days, but during the past few days we have lovely weather again." The writer, who lives near Davidson, Saak., says they got from 30 to 35 bUBhels of wheat per acre, 60 bushels of oats and about 20 bushels of flax. All homesteads are taken in the vicinity, but wild land can be bought at reasonable figures. Word from Alberta gives the infor mation that up to the 22nd of February there were eighty-four and a quarter hours of bright sunshine, but that did not come up to the corresponding month of 1912, when the meteorolog ical department registered 120 hours for the 29 days. February was exceptionally fine all through, but 1912 went one better, and was a glorious month. However, tak ing the weather generally throughout the northern hemisphere, February has ! been marked by serious and sever* disturbances resulting in heavy storms, bad weather and low temperatures in many other parts. The coldest temperature this week occurred on Tuesday morning, when the thermometer registered 23.5 ba'r>w, and the coldest Wednesday was 11 be low. During the last fortnight of February 9 and 8.7 hours of bright sun shine spread its glorious rays over Edmonton, and this out of a possible total of about ten hours is something to talk about.—Advertisement Lessons in Housekeeping. A young girl of fourteen whom I know plans and cooks the dinner at home one evening of each week, and her mother stays away from the kitch en entirely on this afternoon. The girl’s father gives her a small amount of money in the morning before he leaves home, and she does the market ing with this sum. The event is an ticipated with great pleasure by all the members of the family as well as by the little cook, and the nourishing and appetizing dinner she serves is certainly surprisingly good.—Woman’s Home Companion. HANDS ITCHED AND BURNED Abbotsford, Win.—“My son had ec zema on his hands for about one year. | The eczema started with a rash. His hands were sore so he could not close them, and when he wet his hands they hurt him so he could hardly wash. 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Water St, Chicago, UL Saskatchewan Iuiin** In the Provlnoe af Saskatchewan, Western Canada ; „Do Ton desire to get a Free Homestead of 160 ACR1CS of that well known Wheat Land? Is becoming more limited s valuable. W DISTRICTS nuy been opened up for : it, and into these rail > now being built. The 4 soon come when there e Homesteading Current, Saskatchewan, rrites: “l came on my 4, March 1906, with about , th of horses and machin lust $86 in cash. Today I icres of wheat, 800 acres nd 60 acres of flax." Not ■x years, but only an ln t what may be done in Canada In Manitoba, ewan or Alberta, t once for Literature, ilway Hates, etc., to § ilu. Drum 578, Wdtftnrn. S. (_ 7, l« Building, Ouutu, Uthtsku. rtt.315 Jjdu«iSt.,St PmI.IUm. l Government Anents, or Superintendent of ration, Ottuwu,Cuadk. READERS-| Iof this paper desiring to buy any- I thing advertised in its columns should I insist upon having what they ask for, I refusing all substitutes or imitations. I