The Dark Star
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English
Documents
2010
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30
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English
Ebook
2010
Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe Tout savoir sur nos offres
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dark Star, by Robert W. Chambers This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Dark Star Author: Robert W. Chambers Illustrator: W. D. Stevens Release Date: March 29, 2009 [EBook #28440] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DARK STAR *** Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE DARK STAR
“My darilng Rue—myl itlte Rue Carew” –– The Dark Star By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS Autho rof “The Girl Phiilppa“ ”,Who Goes There”, “The Hidden Children”, Etc.
WITH FRONTISPIECE By W. D. STEVENS A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York Pubilshed by Arrangemen twith D .APPLETON & COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS COPYRIGHT, 1916 ,1917 ,BY THI ENTERNATIONAL MAGAZIN ECOMPANY Pirnted int he United States of Ameirca TO MY FRIEND EDGAR SISSON Dans c’méiterl-àf ,aut rien chercher à comprendre. RENÉBENJA IMN ALAK’S SONG Where are you going, Naïa? Throught he st llinoon— Where are you going? To hear the thunder of the sea And the wind blowing!— To find a stormy moon to comfort me Across the dune! Why are you weeping, Naïa? Throught he stlil noon— Why are you weeping? Because f Iound no wind, no sea, No white surf leaping, Nor any flying moon to comfort me Upon the dune. What did you see there, Naïa? In the stli lnoon— What did you see there? Onlyt he parched world drowsedi n drough,t And a fat bee, there, Prying and probing at a poppy’s mouth That drooped a-swoon. What did you hear there, Naïa? In the s llit noon— What did you hear there? Only a kestre’lsl onely cry From the wood near there— Ar usltei nt he wheat as Ipassed by— A cricket’s rune. Who led you homeward, Naïa? Throught he stli lnoon— Who led you homeward? My soul within me sought the sea, Leading me foam-ward: But the lost moon’s ghost returned wtih me Through the high noon. Where is your soul then, Naïa? Lost at high noon— Where is your soul then? It wanders East—or West—I think— O rneat rhe Pole ,then— O rdied—perhaps there on the dune’s dry birnk Seeking the moon. THE DARK STAR “The dying sta rgrew dark; the last lightf adedf rom i;t went ou.t Prince Elrikl aughed. “And suddenlyt he old order ot fhings begant o pass away more switfl.y “Between earth and oute rspace—between Creator and created ,confusing and confounding thei ridentiites, —a rushing darkness grew—the hurrying wrack o fimmemorial storms heralding whilrwinds through which Truth alone survives. “Awatiing the inevitable reëstabilshmen tof such temporary conventions as rende rthe inciden to fhuman existence possible, the brooding Demon which men call Truth stares steadliy a tTengir under the high stars which are passing too, and which a tlas tsha llpass away and leave the Demon watching all alone amid the ruins o feterntiy”. TH EPROPHE T O F TH EKIOTBORDJIGUEN CONTENTS PREFACE. CHILDREN OF THESTAR CHAPTER PAGE .I TH EWONDER-BOX 1 .II BROOKHOLLOW 18 I II . INEMBRYO 30 IV. THETRODDENWAY 38 V. EXMAC IHNA 47 V .I TH EEND OFSOLITUDE 60 VII. OSESBNOIS 71 V .III A CHANGEIMPENDS 80 IX. NETANCSESIORN 88 X. DRIVINGHEAD-ON 102 XI. THEBREAKERS 112 XI.IA LIFELINE 122 X .III LETTERS FROM ALITTL EGIRL 137 XIV. A JOURNEYBEGINS 157 XV. TH ELOCKEDHOUSE 162 XVI. SCHEHERAZADE 180 XVI.IA WTIH ESKIRT 193 XVIII. BYRADIO 202 XIX. THECAPTAIN OF TH EVNYHLOAI 216 XX. THEDRO P OFISIHR 223 XX.IMETHOD ANDFORE ISGHT 239 XXII.TWOTHNERIET 246 XXIII.ONHSIWAY 253 XXIV. TH EROAD TOPARIS 261 XXV. CUP ANDLPI 280 XXVI. RUESOLEIL ’DOR 290 XXVI.IFROMFOUR TOFVI E305 XXVIII. TOGETHER 312 XXIX. ENFELLMIA 325 XXX. JARDINRUSSE 337 XXXI. THECAFÉ DESBULGARS 347 XXXII. THECERCLEELNAIOATANTRX E 358 XXX .III A RA THUNT 377 XXXIV. SUN SIR E 395 XXXV. THEFIRSTDAY 410 THE DARK STAR THE DARK STAR PREFACE CHILDREN OF THE STAR Nott he dark companion o fSiirus, birghtest of all stars—no tou rown chlil and spectra lplane trushing toward Vega in the constellation of Lyra—presided at the bitrh o fmillions born to corroborate a bloody horoscope. Bu ta Dark Sta ,rspeeding unseen through space, known to the ancients, by them called Eilrk ,atfer the Prince of Darkness ,ruled att he birth o fthose myirad souls desitnedt o be engufledi n the earthquake oft he ages, or flung by tiou to fthe ordered pathway o ftheir ilves into strange byways, srtange rhighways—into deeps and deserts never dreamed of. Also one o fthe dozen odd temporary stars on record blazed up on tha tday ,lfared fo ra month or two, dwindled to a cinder, and went out. But the Dark Star Erlik, terriblyi mmotral ,sped on through space to complete a two-hundred-thousand-year circu tioft he heavens, and begin anew an immemorial journey by the w llio fthe Mos tHigh. Wha tspecrtoscope is to horoscope ,destiny is to chance .The black star Erlik rushed through interstellar darkness unseen; those born unde rtis violent augury squalled in thei rcradles ,or ,thumb in mouth, slumbered the dreamless slumber of the newly born. One oft hese, at iny gir lbabyf ,ussed and fidgeted in her mother’s arms, tortured by pirckly hea twhen the hot winds blew through Trebizond. Overhead vutlures circled ;a stein-adler she tredemaf ur niht a etihwng teavilue,he bek dl oow ehodnwlc , ilne alongt he coast ,then set hisl otfy coursef o rChina. Thousands o fmliest ot he westward ,a iltlte boy of eigh tgazed out acrosst he ruflfed waters o fthe mi llpond at Neeland’s Mills, and wondered whethert he ocean migh tnot look that way. And ,wondeirng ,with the sal tsea effervescence working in his inland-born body ,he iftted a cork to his fishing ilne andlf ungt he batied hook far out across the irpples. Then he seated himsel font he parape tof the stone bridge and watiedf o rmonsters o fthe deep to come. And again ,o ffSeraglio Point ,men were rowing in a boa;t and a corded sack lay in the stern, horridly and ilmply heavy. There was also a boxl yingi nt he boa ,toddly bound and clamped wtih metal which gilstenedil ke slive runder the Eastern stars when the waves oft he Bosporus dashed high ,andt helf ying scud rained down on box and sack and the red-capped rowers. In Pertograd a ilttle girl oft welve wasl earning to ea tothe rthingst han sou rmilk and cheese; learningt o irde otherwise than like a demon on a Cossack saddle ;learning depotrment ,too ,and languages, and social graces and the ifne arts. And, most thoroughly of al,l the ltitle girl wasl earning how deathless should be her hartedf ort he Turkish Empire and ati lls works ;and how onlyl ess pefrectt han ou rLordi n Paradise was the Czar on hist hrone amidt ha teatrhly paradise known as “All the Russias”. He rllttie brother was learning these things ,too ,in the Corps of Officers. Also he was arleady proifcient on the balalaika. And again, in the mountains o fa conquered province, the ltilte daughte rof a gamekeeper to nobiltiy was prepairng to emigrate with he rfathert o a new home in the Western world, where she would learn to perform miracles wtih rilfe and revolve ,rand where the beauty of the hermi tthrush’s song would starlte her into compairng tit ot he beauty of her own unirted voice. But to her father ,andt o het ,rhe mos tbeauitfu lthing in all the world was love of Fatherland. Ove rthese ,and mlilions of others ,brooded the spell o fthe Dark Sta .rEven the wolrd tise fllay under i,t vaguely uneas ,ysometimes starlted to momentary seismic panic. Then, ere mundane sefl-control restored terresrtia lequilibirum ,af ew mountains exploded ,ani sland ort wo lay shattered by eatrhquake ,boiilng mud and pumice blotted ou tone ctiy ;eatrh-shock andf ire anothe ;rait dal wave a third. But the world settled down and balanced tisel fonce more on the edge of the perpetua labyss into which it mus tfal lsome dayt ;hei nvisible shadow o fthe Dark Star swept i tati ntervals when somef a rand nameless sun blazed out unseen ;days dawned; the sun o fthe sola rsystem rose futrively each day and hung around the heavens unti lthat dusky hunrtess ,Night, chased him once more beyond the eatrh’s hoirzon. The shadow of the Dark Star was always there, though none saw tiin sunshine or in moonligh,t o rin the sliveryl usrte of the planets. A boy, born under it ,stood outside the irfnge o fwillow and alde,r through which moved two English setters followed and conrtolled by the boy’sf ather. “Mark!” called the father. Ou to fthe willows like a feathered bomb burs ta big grouse, and the green foilage tha tbarred its ilfght seemedt o explode ast he strong bird sheered oui tnto the sunshine. The boy’s gun ,slanitng upward at thirty degrees ,gilttered in the sun an instan,t then the lef tbarre lspoke; and the grouse, as though struck by lightningi n mid-ai ,rstopped with a jerk ,then slanted swiltfy and struck the ground. “Dead! ”cried the boy, as a sette rappeared,l eading on srtaigh tto the heavy mass of feathers lying on the pasture grass. “Clean work, Jim”, said his fathe ,rsrtolling out of the willows. “Bu twasn’ tit a bti irsky ,consideirng the ltilte gilr yonder?” “Fathe!r ”exclaimedt he boy ,veryr ed.“ Ineve reven saw her.I ’m ashamed.” They stood looking across the pasture, where a lttile gir lin a pink gingham dress ilngered watching them, evidenltyl ured by her curiosity rfomt he old house at the crossroads just beyond. Jim Neeland ,still red with moritifcaiton ,took the big cock-grouse from the dog which broughti t—a tender-mouthed, beautfiully rtained Belton ,who stood wtih his feathered offeirng in his jaws, very seirous ,very proud ,awatiing praisef rom the Neelands, fathe rand son. Neeland senior “drew ”the bird and distributed the sacfirice imparitally between both dogs—i tbeing the custom ot fhe country. Neeland junior broke his gun, replaced the exploded shell, content indeed wtih his one hundred pe rcent pefrormance. “Better run ove rand speak to thetil lte gilr ,Jim”, suggested old Dick Neeland ,as he motioned the dogsi nto covetr again. So Jim ran lightly across the ston ,yclover-se tground to where the lttile gir lroamed along the old snake fence ,picking berries sometimes ,someitmes watching the sportsmen ou tof sh,y golden-grey eyes. “Lttile gir”,l he said ,“I’m arfaid the shot rfom my gun came rattling rathe rcloset o you tha titme. You’ll havet o be careful. ’Ive noticed you here before .I twon’ tdo ;youl’l have to keep ou to frange of those bushes, because when we’rei nside we can’ tsee exaclty where we’re firing.” The child said nothing .She looked up a tthe bo ,ysmlied shyl,y then, with much composure ,began her retreat ,no tneglecitng any tempitng blackberry on the way. The sun hungl ow ove rthe hazy Gayifeld hllis ;the beeches and oaks o fMohawk County burned brown and crimson ;slive rbirches suppotred their deilcate canopies o fburnt gold ;andi mperia lwhtie pines clothed hill and vale in a stately robe of green. Jim Neelandf orgott he child—orr emembered he ronly to exercise cautioni nt he Brookhollow covetr. The little girl Ruhannah ,who had once ifdgeted wtih pirckly hea tin her mother’s arms outside the walls of Trebizond, did no tforge tthis easliy smiilng, tal lyoung fellow—a grown man to her—who had come across
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the pasturel o tto warn he.r Bu tti was many a day before they me tagain ,though these two also had been born under the invisible shadow of the Dark Star .Bu tthe shadow of Elriki s always passing ilke swil tfightning across the Phantom Planet which has lfed the othe rway since Time was born. Allahou Ekber, O Tchinguiz Khagan! A native Mongol missionary said to Ruhannah’sf athe:r “Ast he chronicles of the Eighurs have i,t long agot heref ell metal from the Black Racer oft he skies ;theif rst dagge rwas made of it ;andt hef irsti mage o fthe Prince of Darkness. These passrf om Kurd to Cossack by thef ,tby gitf ,by loss; they passrf om naitont o nation by accident, which is Divine design. “And where they remain ,wa ris .And lasts until image and dagge rare carired to anothe rland where war sha llbe .Bu twhere there is wa,r only the predestined suffer—those born unde rElrik—children o fthe Dark Star”. “I thought,” saidt he Reverend Wlibou rCarew ,t“hat my brother had confessed Christ.” I“ am bu trepeaitng to you what my father believed; and Temujin before him”, replied the naitve conve ,trhis remote gaze los tinr elfection. His eyes were qutie lttile and colouredl ike a lion’s; and someitmes ,in deep reverie ,the corners o fhis upper lip twitched. This happened when Ruhannah lay fretitngi n he rmother’s arms ,andt he ho twind blew on Trebizond. Under the Dark Sta ,rtoo ,a boy grew upi n Minetta Lane, notl ess combative than other ragged boys about him ,bu the was inclined to arrange and superintendf is tifghts rathet rhan to patricipatei n baltte ,except wtih his wtis. His name was Eddie Brandes; his first fortune of three dollars was amassed at craps; he became a hanger-on in ward poliitcs, at racet-racks, stable, club ,squared ring ,vaudevlile ,bulresque. Long Acre atrtacted him —but alwayst he gambilng end ot fhe operation. Which predileciton, wtih tis years of ups and downs ,landed him one day in Western Canada with an “Unknown” to match agains tan Athabasca blacksmith, and a rtaining camp as the prospect fo rthe nex tsix weeks. There livedt here, gradually dying ,one Albrech tDumont ,lately head gamekeepert o nobiiltyi nt he mountains of a Lost Province ,and wearing the Iron Cross of 1870 on the ruins of a giganitc and bony chest ,now as hollow as a Gothic ruin. And fi ,ilke at housandf ellow pairtots ,he had been orderedt ot he Western World to watch and report to his Governmen tthe rtend and tendency o ftha tWestern, English-speaking world ,only his Governmen tand his daughter knew ti—a child o fthe Dark Star now grownt o ealry womanhood, wtih a voicel ike a hermtit hrush andt he skil lof a sorceress wtih anythingt ha tsped a bulle.t Before the Unknown was qutie readyt o meett he Athabasca blacksmith, Albrecht Dumon,t dying faster now, signed his las treport to the Government a tBeilrn, which his daughte rIlse had wttiren fo rhim—something abou tCanadian canals and stupid Yankees andt hei rgreed ,indifference, cowardice ,and sloth. Dumont’s mind wandered: “Atfe rthe wel-lborn Herr Gott relieves me at my pos,t” he whispered ,“do thou pick up my burden and stand guard ,ttilleI lse.” “Yes, father”. “Thy sacred promise?” “My promise”. The nex tday Dumontf elt better than he hadf e tlfo ra yea.r I“lse, who is the short and broadly constructed American who comes now already every day to seet hee and to hear thee sing?” “His name is Eddie Brandes.” “He is o fthe ifght gesellschaf,tnot?” “He should gain much money by the fight .A theatre in Chicago may he wiillngly conrto,li n which light opera sha llbe given.” I“s tif ort hat he hears so wlilingly thy voice?” I“i tsf ort hat.... Andl ove.” “And what o fHer rMax Venem ,who has asked of met hyl tilte hand in marriage?” The gi lrwas slient. “Thou dost not love him?” “No”. Toward sunse ,tDumont ,lying by the window ,opened his eyes of a dying Lämmergeier: “My lIse.” “Father?” “What has thou to this man said?” “That I wli lbe engagedt o himi f thou approve”. “He has gained the fight?” “Toda.y.. .And many thousand dollars .The thearte in Chicago is his when he desires .Riches ,leisure, opportunity to studyf or a career upon his stage ,are mine fiI desire.” “Dost thou desiret hisil ,lttelI se?” “Yes.” “And the man Venem who has followed thee so long?” I“canno tbe wha the would have me—a suaHuarfing.”na dolgd yobra d fen moris hin l ot—dnem “And the Fathelrand which placed me here on outpost?” I“t ake thy place when God reileves thee”. “ sersi’tS oot GüsGr. ..t!cht”––eslI— Among the German settlers a five-piece brass band had been organised the year before. tI marched at the funera lo fAlbrecht Dumon,tl ately head gamekeeper to nobility in the mountains o fa long-lost province. Three months late rlIse Dumont arrived in Chicago to marry Eddie Brandes .One Benjamin Stull was best man .Others presen tincluded “Captain” Quint ,“Doc” Cufroot ,“Parson” Smawley, Abe Gordon—firends of the bridegroom. Invited by the bride, among others were Theodor Weishelm, the Hon. Charles Wilson, M. P., and Herr Johann Kestner ,a weatlhy genltemanf rom Leipsic seeking safe and promising investments in Canada and the Untied States. A yearl ate rlIse Dumont Brandes, assumingt he stage name of Minna Minti ,sangt he rôle o fBe itt nain “The Mascotte,” att he Brandes Thearte in Chicago. A yeal rate ,rwhen she created the par tof Kathiin “The White Horse,” Max Venem sent word to her that she would ilvet o see he rhusband lyingi nt he gutte runder his heel. Which made the girl unhappy in hert riumph. But Venem hunted up Abe Grittlefeld and told him very coolly that he meant to ruin Brandes. And wtihin a month the latest pubilcf avoutire, Minna Minit ,sati n he rdressing-room ,wet-eyed ,enraged ,wtih the reports o fVenem’s private detecitvesl ocked int he drawer o fhe rdressingt able, andt he cutrain waiting. So complex was life already becoming to these few among the mliilon chlidren o fthe Dark Star Erlik—to everyone ,rfom the chlid tha trfetted in its mother’s arms under the hot wind near Trebizond, to a deposed Sutlan ,coweirng behind the ivory screeni n his zenana, weeping tears that rolled ilke o liove rhis fat jowl to which st lliadhered the powdered suga rof a Turkish sweetmeat. Allahou Ekber,Khodja. atre gisd Go; eaGralt , soAndeurth Caliph, couis-nocpmnaoi nfosi ,ilA ht ,oF e Mahomet the Prophe .tBut ,O tougtch,ide sno ,ïa rofanruB emikrlpe sinPr Ece be nam thyzaa eiNyhs dnt his Dark Star, and beneath the end o fthe argumen tbetween those two las tsurvivors o fa burn-tou twolrd —behold! The sword! THE DARK STAR CHAPTER I THE WONDER-BOX As long as she could remembe rshe had been permttied to play wtih the contents of the late Her rConrad Wliner’s wonder-box. The programme on such occasions vairedl iltte ;the chlid was permtited to rummage among the rteasures in the box un litshe had satisfied her perennia lcuirostiy; conversation with her absen-t minded fathe rensued, which utlimately included a personal narrative ,dragged ou tpiecemeal from the reitcent ,dreamy invalid. Then always a few pages of the diary kept by the late Her rWline rwere read as a beditme stor.y And bath and bed and dreamlandf ollowed .That wast he invariable rouitne, now once more in full swing. He rfather lay on his invalid’s chai ,rreading ;his rubber-shod crutches rested agains tthe wa,ll within easy reach .By him ,beside the kerosene lamp ,he rmothe rsa,t mending he rchlid’s stockings and underwear. Outside the circle o flampilght the incandescen teyes o fthe stove glowed steadily through the semi-dusk; and the child ,always fascinated by anything tha taroused her imaginaiton ,iltfed her gaze furtively rfom itme to itme to convince hersel fthat i treally was the big ,famiilar stove which glared redly back at her, and no ta dragoni nto which he rcreativef ancy had so otfenrt ansformed it. Reassured ,she conitnued to explore the contents ot fhe wonder-box—a toy she preferred to her doll, but not to her beloved se to fwater-colours and crayon penclis. Some centuries ago Pandora’s box le tloose a world o frtoubles ;Herr Wliner’s box apparently contained only pleasure for al itlte child whose pleasures were moslty o fhe rowni nvention. I twas a cuirous old box, made o foilve wood and bound with bands o fsome lacquered silvery meta lto make i tsrtong—rupee silver ,perhaps—srtangely wrough twith Arabic characters engraved and in shallow relieI .f thad handles on either side ,ilke a sea-ches;t a silver-lacquered lock and hasp which retained traces of violent usage ;and six heavy srtap hinges ot fhe same lacquered meta.l Wtihin tit hel tilte chlid knew that a mostf ascinaitng colleciton o faritcles wast o be discovered, taken ou tone by one with greatest care, played with discreetly, and, at her mother’s command, returned to their several places in Her rWliner’s box. There were,i n this boxt ,wo rathe rmurderous-looking Kurdish daggers in sheaths ofrf etted sliver—nevert o be unsheathed,i twas solemnly understood ,except by the chlid’sf athe.r There was a pai ro fGerman army revolvers of the pattern o f1900, the unexploded carrtidges of which had long since been extracted and cauitously thrown into the mli lpond by the child’s mother ,much to the surpirse ,no doubt ,of the pickerel and sunifsh. There were wirting mateirals of sandalwood, a few sea shells, a dozen books in German wtih many steel plate engravings; also a red Turkish fez wtih a dark blue tasse ;ltwo pairs o fgold-rimmed spectacles; severat lobacco pipes o fDresden porcelain ,a casef u llof instruments for mechanica ldrawing ,a thick blank book boundi n calf and containing the diary of thel ate Her rWilner down to wtihin a few minutes before his death. Also there was a figure in bronze ,encrusted with tarnished gold and faded rtaces o fpolychrome decoraiton. Erilk ,the Yellow Devil ,as Her rWline rcalled ti ,seemed too heavy to be a hollow casitng ,and yet ,when shaken ,something wtihin rattled faintl ,yas though when the molten metal was cooilng a fissure formed inside ,into which af ewl ooserf agments of bronze had fallen. I tapparenlty had no tbeen made to represent any benign Chinese god ;the aspect o fthe yellow figure was anything but benevolent. The features were terirfic; scowls infested tis grotesque countenance; threatening brows benti nward ;angry eyes rolledi n apparent fury; tis double gesture wtih sword and javeiln was violent and almost humorously menacing. And Ruhannah adored it. For a little whlie the chlid played he rusual game of firghtening her doll with the Yellow Dev liand then rescuing he rby the aid of a fairy prince which she herse flhad designed, smeared with water-colours ,and cu tou twtih scissors rfom a piece o fcardboard. Afte ra itme she turned to the remaining treasures in the wonder-box .These consisted of severa lvolumes containing photographs ,others fu llof sketches in pencli and water-colour, and a thick rol lof glazed ilnen scrolls covered with designs inI ndiai nk. The photographs were o fa llsotrs—landscapes ,rivers ,ships in dock, dry dock, and at sea; lighthouses, fotrs ,horses carrying soldiers armed wtih lances and wearing the red fez; artillery on the march, infanrt,y groups o fofficers, all weairngt he same sotr o ffez whichl ayt herei n Herr Wilner’s box o foilve wood. There were drawings, too—sketches of cannon, o firfles, of swords ;drawings of soldiers in vairous gay unfiorms ,all carefully coloured by hand .There were pictures of ships, from the sterns of which the crescent lfag lfoatedl azliy; sketches o fgrea ,tugly-looking objects which her fathe rexplained were Turkish ironclads. The name “ironclad” always sounded menacing and formidable to the chlid, and the forbidding pictures fascinated her. Then there were scores and scores of scrolls made out o fsilppery white linen ,on which had been drawn all sorts of mos tamazing geomertical designs in ink. “Plans ”,hef rather explained vaguel.y And ,when pressed by reiterated questions: “Plansf or mlitiary works ,I believe—fotrs ,docks, barracks, fortfiied cuts and bridges. You are no tye tqutie old enough to understand, Ruhannah.” “Who did draw them, daddy?” “A German irfend o fmine, Herr Conrad Wilner”. “What for?” I“t hink his master sent himt o Turkey to make those pictures”. “Fort he Sutlan?” “No;f or his Empero”.r “Why?” “I don’t exactly know ,Rue”. A tthis stage o fthe conversation her fathe rusually laid aside his book and composed himsel ffo rthe inevtiable narrative soont o be demanded of him. Then ,although having heard the story many itmes rfom her crippled father’s ilps, but never weary o fthe repeititon ,the chlid’s eyes would grow round and very solemn in preparaiton for her next and inevitable quesiton: “And did Herr Wilnerdie, daddy?” “Yes ,dear”. “Te llme!” “Well ,it was whenI was a missionaryi n the Trebizond disirtct, and your mother and I went––” “Andme, daddy? Andme, too!” “Yes; you were a ilttle baby in arms .And we al lwen tto Galilpoil to attend the opening of a beautifu lnew school which was buitlf o rilttle Mohammedan convetrst o Christianity––” “DidI seet hose ilttle Chrisitan chlidren ,daddy?” “Yes, you saw them. But you are too young to remember.” “Tell me .Don’ tstop!” “Then listen attenitvely wtihou tinterrupitng ,Rue: You rmother and you and Iwent to Gallipoli; and my rfiend, Herr Wline,r who had been staying with us at a town called Tchardak ,came along with us to attend the opening oft he American schoo.l “And the night we arrived there was trouble .The Turkish people, urged on by some bad officials in the Sanjak ,came wtih guns and swords and spears and se tifre tot he mission schoo.l “They did not offer to harm us. We had arleady collected our converts and our persona lbaggage. Our caravan was staitrng. The mob might not have done anything worse than burn the schoo l fiHer rWline rhad not lost hist empe rand threatened them with a dog whip. Thent hey kllied him wtih stones ,therei nt he walled yard.” At this poini tnt he rtagedy,t he eagerly awaited and ardently desired shivers passed up and down the child’s back. “O—oh! Didt hey ki llhim dead?” “Yes, dea.r” “Was he a matryr?” In a way he was a matryr to his duty , Isuppose .At leas t Igathe rso rfom his diary and from what he once “ told me of hisfil e”. “And then what happened? Tell me, dadd.y” “A Greek steame rtook us and ou rbaggaget o Trebizond”. “And what then?” “And then, a year later, the terrible massacre at our Trebizond mission occurred––” That was whatt he child was waitingf or. “ Iknow!” she interrupted eagerly .“The wicked Turks and the cruel Kurds did come galloping and shouitng ‘Allah!’ And all the poo ,rconvetred people became martyrs .And Godl oves matryrs, doesn’t He?” “Yes, dear––” “And then they did kill al lthe poor tillte Chrisitan children! ”exclaimed the chlid excitedl.y “And they did cut you wtih swords and guns! Andt hen the kind saliors witht he Ameircanlf ag took you and mamma and me to a ship and saved us by the grace of our Lord Jesus!” “Yes, dear––” “Tell me!” “Thai ts all––” “No; you walk ont wo crutches, and you cannot be a missionary any more because you are sick alt lhe itme! Tell me, daddy!” “Yes. Andt ha tis al,l Rue––” “Oh ,no! Please! Tel lme!... And then ,don’t you remembe rhow the brave Briitsh saliors and ou rbrave American sailors pointed their cannon at theItoy uot ahlls oh or we sot shoot‘ ,dn oDyehtias , dsd anro-lanc o pieces’. And then the brave American sailors went on shore and brough tback some poo rlittle wounded convetred children, and you rbaggage andt he magic box o fHer rWilner!” “Yes, dear. And now that is enough tonight––” “Oh ,daddy, you mustf irs treadi n the di-a-ry which Herr Wline rmade!” “Bring met he book ,Rue”. Wtih ani nteres tforever new, the Carewf amliy prepared to listen tot he words wrttien by a strange man who had died only af ew moments atfe rhe had madet hel as tenrtyi nt he book—before even the ink was entirely dry on the pages. The chlid, stiitng cross-legged on the lfoo,r clasped hel rlttie hands tightly; he rmotherl aid aside her sewing, foldedti ,and placed iti n her lap ;he rfather searched through the pencilled translaiton which he had wrtiten in betweent hel ines of German scirp,tf ound where he had left of fthe time before ,then conitnued the diary of Her rConrad Wline,r deceased: March 3.Y ehidli tnet otbee sennslaav hginilap M yroaP zecalyM .pud calis tee ar gto ootB reil nhwne a messenger from ou rEmbassy arrives. Murad Bey knows this . Iam sorry he knows i.t But nobody except myself is aware that I have a third set of plans carefully hidden. March 4 . Murwithday All itgns tem nedas’gnnts under water;w ri eneatgnelemoytrs ertrpaliolowt ruT hsiksed the enrtancet o the bay, and cavarly partols ont he heightst o warn away the curious. March 6 .the new plans. Wired areas underForts Alamout and Shah Abbas are being reconstructed from wate rand along the coves and shoals are being plotted. Murad Bey is unusually poltie and effusive, conversing with me in German and French. A spidery man and very dangerous. March 7. argn Ats drt ena being severe, Il fe tymt ne tbaicagff ar aistlagin .th ehTtaeht wena dngithimnduo t down to the dock where myil ttle sailboa tlay ,witht he object of cooling mysel font he wate.r There was a hot land breeze; Isalied ou tinto the bay and cruised notrh along the coves which Ihave wired .As I rounded al iltte rocky point Iwas surprised to seei n the moonlight ,very near, a steam yach ta tancho,r carrying no ilghts. Thel onge r Ilooked at hert he more certain Ibecamet hatI was gazing at the Imperial yacht . Ihad no idea what the yach tmight be doing here; Iran my saliboa tclose unde rthe overhanging rocks and anchored .Then I saw a smal lboa tin the moonlight, pulling rfom the yacht toward shore, where the crescen tcove had arleady been thoroughly staked and the bottom closely covered wtih barbed wire asf ar ast he edge oft he deep channe lwhich curves in herel ike a scimita.r It mus thave been tha tthe people in the boat miscalculated the location of the channe,l fo rthey were we llove rthe sunken barbed wire when theyl fited andt hrew overboard what they had come there to get ird of—two dark bulks that splashed. Iwatched the boa tpull back to the Impeiral yacht. A little late rthe yacht weighed anchor and steamed northward ,burning no ilghts .Only the red relfeciton tingeing the smoke rfom her stacks was visible. I watched he runt lishe was los tin the moonligh,t thinking al lthe while of those weighted sacks so often dropped overboard along the Bosporus and of fSeraglio Poinrf tomt ha tsame Imperial yach.t When the steamer had disappeared, I got out my sweeps and rowed for the place where the dark objects had been dropped overboard. I knew that they must be resting somewhere on the closely criss-crossed mesh of wires just below the surface of the water; but I probed for an hour before I located anything. Another hou rpassedi nrt yingt o hooki ntot he object wtih thel tiltet hree-lfuked grapne lwhichI used as an anchor . Igot hold of something ifnally; a heavy chest of olive wood bound wtih meta;l but I had to irg a tackle beforeI could hois t tiaboard. Then I cast out again; and very soon my grapnel hooked into what I expected—a canvas sack, weighted wtih a round shot. When I got i taboard , Ihesitated a long while before opening ti .Finally I made al ong slti int he canvas with my knife.... She was very young—not ove rsixteen , Ithink, and she was really beautfiul ,even unde rhe rwe,t dark hair .She seemedt o be a Caucasian girl—maybe a Georgian .She wore a small gold cross which hung from a gold cord around her neck. There was anothe,r and tighte ,rcord around he rneck, too. Icu tthe slik bowsrting and closed and bound her eyes wtih my handkerchie fbefore Irowed ou ta litlte farther andl owered hei rnto the deep channel which cuts eastward herel ike the scimita ro ftha ttrue beileve,r Abdul Hamid. Then Ihoisted sai land beat up slowly toward my little dock unde ra moon which had become ghaslty undert he pallid aura of a gatheirng storm–– “A poo rdead young lady! ”interrupted the child ,clasping her hands more itghlt.y “Did the Sultan kli lhe,r daddy?” “It seems so, Ruhannah.” “Why?” “I dont’ know. He was a very crue land wicked Sultan.” “I don’t see why he kliled the beautfiul poo rdeadl ad”.y I“f you wlil ilsten and no tinterrup,t you shal llearn why.” “And was the chest that Herr Wilner pulled up the very same chest that is here on the floor beside me?” insisted the chlid. “The very same. Nowl isten, Rue ,and Ishall read al ittle more in Her rWilner’s diar,y and then you mus thave your bath and be put to bed––” “Please read, daddy!” The Reverend Wilbou rCarew turned the page and quielty continued: March 20. ahwof rar d fuMid ond rn, aagai dnoziberT ta srtearqun owy mIn e.il A canvas cove rand rope handles concealed the characte rof my oilve wood ches.t I do no tbeileve anybody suspects it to be anything except one of the various boxes containing my own personal effects. I shal lopeni ttonight with a ifle and chiselfi , possible. March 21. octnhT eo fnestesche thalveret ihtemos ht fo gn.yT ehb ertgadell of leox is fuettini nrettrw s Russian ,and ful lo fstones which weigh collectively a hundred pounds a tleas.t Therei s nothing elsei n the chest except a broken Ikon and a bronzef igure of Erilk ,a Ylidizr elic ,no doubt, o fsome Kurdishr aid into Mongoila, and probably placed beside the dead girl by he rmurderersi n deirsion . Iam translating thel etters and arranging them in sequence. March 25 .tyTaa,anne of oeves larlihcnerd dead girl’s nam eaw svedinelt yra tvehad telansttel ehtehT .sre I of some Cossack chief o rpetty pirnce ,and on the eve o fhe rmarirage to a young office rnamed Mtiya the Kurds raided the town .They carried poo rTatyana o ffalong with her wedding chest—the chest fished up with my grapnel. In brief, the ches tand the gir lfound thei rwayi nto Abdu’ls seragilo .Thel etters of the dead gilr—which were wttiren and entrusted probably to a faithless slave, but which evidently never lef tthe seragilo
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