Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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R Ат ст оа МА 1411 sigh, Roxie went into the house, while her father, who ішпей io follow her, thought “It is the begin- ning of the end.” heart Raoul in the meantime, sped away, his heavy with sorrow; and just as faint streaks of gray tinged the heavens, he rode into the town of Lerveaux, Tired and He gruffly ordered some food and closing his eyes, thought picturesque for its surrounding country. dusty he dismounted at the Inn and entered. bitterly of what had transpired in the last few hours. His meditation was abruptly brought to a close by a Springing up, Raoul hearty slap on the shoulder. was confronted by Luis Rondre, a lifelong friend and companion. Raoul, he said, “із it really you? Mon dieu, I have not seen you for ages, son of my father’s And the fair Roxie?” To Luis, Raoul opened his heart and told him of the wicked blow Fate had dealt him. Luis was a friend. How are you? sympathetic listener and after Raoul had finished, Raoul, the time Two days hence shall the citizenry of Ler- Luis said in a low tone of voice: 15 ripe. veaux rise to arms. We have withstood outrage after But yesterday was M. Lariespierre brutally murdered. Не was a kind and gentle man and his foul death has brought forth many vows of wen- But, Raoul, will you join us to rid pur- He had arisen and with flashing eyes, unconsciously posed dramatically. Raoul outrage. geance. selves of the oppressor?” was thrilled and jumping up, he gave his hand to Luis and said simply: “То the end!” The spark The streets of Lerveaux were imcom- Rolling drums! Fires of vengeance! was kindled. monly still this day. Then from an alleyway darted a figure. He was tall and terrible looking. He waved a sword aloft and beckoned apparently to no one. Almost upon the instant, the men of the village and even women with hoarse cries and waving weapons ran to the caller. Two hundred and fifty strong they were—all bent on one purpose—to crush the yoke of tyranny. ‘The drums rattled. On to Rantesse, was the cry. Nobility!” “Down with Равт JI. The struggle for freedom was Slowly the Months passed. perceptably lessening. peasantry were bloodshed were Strife and In Balliere had the rabble ;t- downing the Nobles. everywhere visible. tacked the castle of De Rurey, one of the most pow- erful and greatest nobles of the age, and had mas- sacred the entire household. They had put firebrands to the castle and now but a heap of smoking ruins remained. Raoul had in the meantime been extremely busy with war. Twice already he had saved the day for Now he had become a spy, and his daring and bravery peasants—once at Rarre and again at Ferrisse. had become a threat to all Nobility. And one day Raoul was stricken to learn from a soldier that Roxie’s parents News traveled fast. had both been brutally murdered. Roxie was saved from the same fate only because she was absent at the time. Now she lived a life of remorse and grief, but greatly embittered at the Nobility. This news stunned Raoul and for a few days afterwards he was not his own self. But then he tumed back to his work. Night! sign of strife! A red glow is seen in the heavens. The They leaped high into the heavens, crackling threateningly. Fires of vengeance! Rows and rows of sleeping soldiers. The sentries pacing back and forth. Suddenly a figure scurries across a lighted place and then hides in the obscure Abruptly a shot rings out, and a flash of flame stabs the darkness. darkness. Silence! The figure rises There is But this soon dies away and then falls, but crawls painfully away. a great bustle in the camp. and slumber again reigns supreme. Daybreak! Consey, headquarters of the peasants. Danton, pock-marked one, in his quarters in the village or- A man crawling over the ground, near Immediately, France's known as the greatest orator, dered two soldiers to bring in the fallen man. It was They lifted him tender- ly and brought him to the house, where the best pos- Raoul, almost unconscious. sible care was given him. А few days later, as Raoul awoke from his sleep, his eyes strayed to the window. Almost simultaneously six rifle shots rang out, and a man fell, stone dead. He was a deserter. (Continued on page 88)

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Monsieur, spoke L'Estrange, in a voice entirely sober and deathly cold, this must be avenged. You must fight me tonight, now in fact, as in an hour, we leave. Raoul bowed. Then Roxie burst forth, ‘Raoul, if you love me, do not fight, you will be killed. Her voice rose, I beg of you, my dear betrothed, do not fight. Raoul, tight lipped, spoke: Gentlemen, I zo to bring my beloved home. But I return before the Adieu. Then turning to Roxie, he said, “Соте, dear one, the hour is late. It is high time you were safe in your mother's arms. Allons.” He strode out into the starry night, followed by the tearful Roxie. hour is ten. Flower of flowers, he said to Roxie, “по! even for you can I jeopardize my honor. I will teach this unruly pig of a nobleman to stay where he belongs and to keep his soiled hands away from my lily. Finally they arrived home. In а few terse words, Raoul explained everything. Valtier nodded under- standingly and with a crushing grip of hands wished him luck while Mme. Valtier kissed him. Roxie had gone to bed where she cried herself into a troubled sleep. Raoul immediately went to his sword. rooms for his outside the village, Raoul was one of the best of France's swordmen. Still he knew that he was to face a worthy opponent, for in L'Estrange, he was pitted against Nobility': deadliest sword. Unknown to anyone Soon he arrived at the Inn; every thing had been prepared and cleared away. He burst through the door and, taking off his coat (L'Estrange had his off already) Raoul unsheathed his sword and began to make passes in the air. After a moment or two he was satisfied. His wrist had not lost its flexibility by any means. Raoul approached L'Estrange and smilingly said, I am ready, Jean Jacques yonder, and he pointed to a friend of his, will second me.” L'Estrange bowed coldly. They both went to the center of the room, raised their weapons and the fight was on. Raoul was cautious and played the defensive as he wanted to test L’Estrange’s abilities. He was impressed by the skillful way іп which L'Estrange handled his weapon and knew that his adversary would press him hard. However, L’- Estrange angered that this peasant should give him such a hard battle, doubled the fury of his attack. But, this frenzy was short lived and soon L’Estrange found himself breathing hard. Now Raoul took the the offensive. The clash of stee! resounded through the entire Inn. both Lightning-like thrusts were evident on Feint thrust But it seemed that L'Estrange was getting heavy on his feet. sides. parry and so it was. His eyes were glaring and his tongue was dry: Не seemed to be battling against a resistless Time and again as he would glance at Raoul's eyes, he would become disheartened, for there lurked but “опе kill. Finally Raoul thought that L’Estrange had gone far enough. force. purpose—to And now the spectators were treated to a bit of sword play that made their eyes glisten. Like a flame was Raoul’s glittering here and there and parrying: sword -feinting—thrusting At last with a tremendous thrust he drove his sword through L’Estrange and watched him fall as the death rattle sounded in his throat. [he Nobility, too amazed to do anything, could only gaze awe stricken at their fallen comrade. That he, L'Estrange, the deadliest sword of all France, should have been killed by a mere commoner and killed by superior swordsmanship was quite impos- sible. Raoul quick to grasp his opportunity, ran from the Inn. For he knew that {о Бе caught now by the Nobility would mean death. Already had M. -Guillotine made his appearance with his deadly instrument of destruction. So with the speed of a deer, he ran to Valtier’s home, where he found Valtier waiting ouside for him anxiously with a saddled horse and other necessities. “Сод speed, my boy, he whispered to Raoul, little dreaming that he would never see him again. Now, like a flitting shadow, Roxie appeared, with eyes red from weeping. Raoul took her in his arms. Desire of my heart, he spoke pantingly, “І must gd. But not for long. Не covered her lips nnd cheeks with kisses and then, thrusting her from him, mounted his horse and, with a wave of his hand rode away into the night. Faintly o'er the hills came the threatening beat of rolling drums. Drums of vengeance! They called incessantly, Roxie and her father, hand in hand gazed silently after the fast disappearing figure. At length with a

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DIMPLES By Eva Cohen It was a most wonderful play. The Producer said so, the Author most assuredly thought so. Even the Leading Man condescended to admit that in all his sixteen years of experience he had never seen a more enjoyable comedy. Indeed, the play bid fair to be one of the best amateur attempts ever produced by any graduating class of the Dayton High School. But there was something lacking; something that every good play must have. It was a heroine. Yes, out of a class of thirty girls not one could be found to fill that stellar position. Not that they didn’t want to. Every single one of them filed an application. Everyone, that is, except Mary Ralson, and she didn’t count. You see, she was small and plain and she never smiled. And then she was so horribly clever, too clever ever to be popular. And so she never thought of filing an application. Now the part of the heroine, called for some- body who was pretty, clever, and able to control her emotions very strictly. This character was named Dimples and she would be a scream if she could be played by the right kind of person. She was funny because she never laughed. When she faced her audience, it must be with an expression so ludicrous that every one must naturally burst into laughter. То be successful she must provoke mirth all the time and her greatest asset must be that comically sad face. Where, in that class of flappers, could be found one who would not burst out laughing or start giggling at her own funniness? Where could be found a girl who could be а Dimples without showing any dimples? Тһе Author was in despair; the Leading Man went around casting imprecations on the whole tex which could not produce one decent actres. Тһе Producer alone said nothing. One day, however, he sent a notice around to the 4A Class. As a result of that notice, there assembled, after school that day, thirty girls on the stage of the audi- torium. Some were self-conscious; some were gig- gling in the knowledge of their own personal attrac- tions, some touched up lips and cheeks; only one stood up straight and stiff, gazing stolidly at the clock. There was a stir on the stage when the Producer entered, a stalwart, handsome young man of about twenty winters. Не went up to the front of the assembly room and issued his orders in а sharp, commanding tone. Each young lady will please take а copy of the leading part from that table in the comer. As I call your names, will you please step up and read until I tell you to stop? With an excited flurry the little group did as it was told, and then each awaited her turn. The girls came on one by one, and read from two to four minutes. The recitations were greeted with Pretty good, or Fair, and most of the time with “АП right.” When Mary Ralson came on, he said noth- ing. She was the last one on the list and after she had read awhile, the gathering was dismissed. All except Mary. When she went home that night, her heart was singing and two unsuspected dimples had appeared in her smooth cheeks, innocent of any sug- gestion of rouge. But her excitement was nothing to the shock of the school, the next day, when it heard from the lips of the horrified leading man that Mary Ralston “о all people had been made the heroine. Тһе Flap- pers laughed derisively and the ‘‘Fellers” snickered openly; but they could do nothing about it, not even the handsome leading man, who begged and pleaded, and threatened, in vain. Never had a budding star taken her place under such difficulties. The school knew nothing, in the weeks that fol- lowed, of the work that that young girl did. They knew nothing of the great professional who coached and molded her, because underneath a stolid exterior Mary Ralston had hidden the heart of an artist, and beneath those indifferent features, she had concealed the expressions which could be found only on the face of the greatest of actresses. The part fitted her like a glove. She was the Dimples who did not dimple, at least not until the grand climax. Under the praises of the Producer and the profes- sional, her self-consciousness vanished and every bit of prettiness that she possessed came out, until even her classmates began to notice the difference.