North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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10 MANET talked and tarred away. Between two barrels at freshly tarred net. was suspended to dry. Of course, Tilda must head for this. The colli- sion would be inevitable, and shivers ran up and down my spine. I dare say Billy felt un- comfortable, too. The fishermen, serenely un- conscious of approaching disaster, smoked and talked quietly. Suddenly a new actor walked into the scene-Lars Johanneson, magnificent in white tlannels, a yachting cap set at a jaunty angle on his red hair, sauntered down the road. I felt a certain malicious joy as I thought of those iiannels. p How Lars missed seeing Tilda I never could figure out, but he did, and the results were satisfying-to Billy and me. Tilda rushed headlong at the nets, the tar, and the men. Through their midst she went, scattering them left and right. She would have walked right into the net, had she not seen Lars who stood still, regarding her with pained surprise. What- eyer made her do it I don 't know, but anyway she suddenly lowered her head and charged at Lars, who dodged-and a very neat dodge it would have been if he hadn't stepped on a stone and fallen backwards into tl1e spilled tar. ' Tilda stopped and looked at him with mild astonishment. No doubt she had never charged af man before. Once more she was the gentle and amiable creature of old. Through the last incident we had been like figures of stone. Now mutterings arose from upset fishermen, whose language at its highest was not exactly fit for drawing rooms. Their expressions were, to say tl1e least. very salty. Lars. however, said nothing He was craning his neck to see the back of the once spotless flannels. I giggled uncontrollably, and he favored me with a Charles Bickfordian stare. By this time, the whole village was.out and surrounded us. Questions piled in from every side. To each we answered in chorus: 'WVe haven 't the slightest idea. ' Lars started homeward, and I felt my heart sink when I thought of his rage. He would nurse it and pet it and some day it would burst out. His was the cold anger of the Vikings and I saw it light up his frosty eyes when he looked at us. Some of the villagers glanced at us suspi- ciously and the English gentleman arrived just in time to escort us home as he had done so many times before. He sighed faintly and said: Well, I must say, you've jolly well finished yourselves this afternoon. Thank heavens, you're going home day after tomor- rowq' Tilda trudged along docilely enough between us. The gulls were noisier than ever, but they were laughing at us now. Still, the aiair had its compensations. IVhen I thought of Tilda swathed in sheets, and Lar's white flannels, I laughed outright. I supposej' said the English gentleman, with a twinkle in his eye, 'ithat you still have not the slightest idea of how it happened. I've figured it all out, said Billy, with not a trace of a smile. I think Tilda just wanted to be different. ELIZABETH OGILVIE, 11-2. ESCAPE tWitI1 Apologies to Dickens? The French revolution! Bloody, ruthlessg the air full of foreboding and hatred. Peasants with empty stomachs lustily drinking the blood of selfish, foolhardy aristocrats. Aristocrats, refusing to accept the fact that if tire smould- ered long enough, it would eventually break into iiame. Count Raoul Henri de Coste, dare-devil son of a rollicking, nonchalant father, and a to- the-devil-with-consequences'' mother had al- ways dined, danced, hunted, and enjoyed him- self immensely. In fact he had never done a worth-while thing unless it was to pay pretty compliments to a very portly dowager. On the afternoon before the smouldering rubbish heap burst into flame, he called his valet to llllll. Gaspard, I shall attend the party in honor of Esther Dulac's twentieth birthday tonight. I shall want my blue velvet court dress ready soon after dusk. XYith Gaspard's assistance, he proceeded to dress for the hunt. Later that night he went galloping through the dimly-lit streets of Paris in his carriage. Crowds of peasants. menials, and servants of the lowest class were hovering around in fairly large groups, but Raoul was too occupied in- specting his fingernails to notice this rather strange scene. The sky was overcast and leaden. The wind was blowing in short and slowly lengthening gusts, and the dead leaves rattled like lonesome skeletons suspended in mid-air. Three hours later he was sipping Burgundy on a balcony in the palatial home of Esther Dulac. He was whispering impassioned love words to her, his fiancee, when she suddenly murmured, I wish you would stop just a moment, Raoul, and tell me what that red light is over there in the sky. He glanced up casually, and then fixedly. Now, I wonder what this is. Mon Dieuf' excitedly, HI saw mobs of peasants on the way over. Now, what the devil do you suppose they're up to? Oh, well, shall we go in and dance, Esther? UNO Raoul, I have a better idea! Letis go riding! You can take my brother 's habit, and I'll change right away. Theyill never miss us, they're too drunk. Hurry! I'll meet you at the stable in ten minutes. I'll order Charles to get the mounts ready at once.

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M .-l NE home unceremoniously, and the strict bound- aries had been imposed to teach us to keep our inquisitive young noses out of other people's business. Billy put his father 's field-glasses to his eyes and observed that Lars and Philip were having a fight in the side yard. He managed to convey to me a blow-by-blow description till the glad- iators disappeared, a11d once more we sank into silence, chewing our grass thoughtfully. A summer afternoon can be very quiet at times and tl1e only sounds we heard were the raucous laughter of the gulls, the muffled roar of distant surf, and that vague, indeterminate buzzing which seems to be always heard on a hot after- noon. Presently Matilda Jane wandered into our view. Matilda is our sister under the skin be- cause she eats all the time, the way we do. She is known to her intimates as Tilda and she lives a happy life of bovine content always minding her own business. Tilda, said Billy gravely, is a fine ex- ample of getting into a rut and staying there. I looked at him silently-I am used to his mental meanderings. VVhat she needs, he added, ' ' is individuality. ' ' '4You mean, I asked lazily, that she should learn Russian and wear what hair she has in bangs? I was not at all surprised by his statementg his talk was always mildly insane. Tilda, stated Billy, would look beauti- ful in red flannels. This time I was surprised, and disturbed. I stared at him with my mouth open. Don't you recollect that cow in Craw- ford? asked Bill. I saw the light. Oh, yes -but you wouldn't dare! Wouldn 't I, though? replied Bill. Here Tilda, here, I've got something for you! Tilda, all unsuspecting, ambled over, a wide smile on her gentle face. She looked trust- fully at Billy with those limpid brown eyes in a way that might have melted an older heart, but Billy was young and hard. Hello, old lady, said Bill. Here's some hay. She chewed it slowly, keeping her wide and child like gaze on Billy all the while. You go over yonder, Billy commanded me, and get Joe 's red llannels off the line. I opened my mouth to protest, but Billy said: Go ahead, he shouldn't wear 'em in summer. I saw the humor in the situation and grinned as I started off to where Joc's red flannels streamed forth upon the breeze. Billy knelt down in back of Tilda and pre- pared to make her individual. The subject tor should I say victim?j, eontendedly munched hay from my hand until she felt Billy's hand on her leg. Then she immediately became kittenish and sidestepped, her tail catching Billy in the face. He grinned and ducked. and the next recollection I have of the affair was T fl seeing Billy landing some four feet. off with a surprised expression on his face, and a frant ie Matilda tearing 2lU1'OSS the field as though J. pack of wolves were at her hccls. linhappy day! I still remember the hunu.: ol' that moment. Portugee .loe's flannels vvi-we practically strewn across the pasture in a. hull- dred pieces, and even in the excitement- ef' 'l'ilda's rebellion, I thought of Mamie Joi-. What. would she say? I shuddered to thinlc of her wrath. Billy was up on his feet, sg stout stick in his hand, ready for the chase. NVe were off, fast and furious. Tilda, far down the road, raised a cloud of dust like a troop oi' cavalry and then took the path past the fist! houses to t.he harbor. Oh, my g-ollyl yelled Billy. She,ll wrt-1 it the harborlw The first person Tilda met on her rampage was Snooky le Blanc. Snooky came out from behind his father 's boat, a can in his hand, full of rieh, red, paint. Billy shouted a warning and Snooky stared at the oncoming beast With- wide open eyes and mouth. He had no chance to get out of the way and Tilda swept him rdf his feet. NVhen the dust cleared, Snooky pw-- sented a rather gory appearance, for that rief.. red, paint covered his clothes and his face. He shook his fists after us and cursed with Gallic fluency. Here, 'llildaln called Billy. 'tHere, 'I'ilda! called I. But our entreatifrs fell on deaf ears. Tilda swerved to the left. and would pick out a bed of nasturtiums to wreck. She thought she was a bull, I guess and she put her head up and gave vent to her emotions with a sort of over-grown moo. We tried stalking her, but we were surrounded by a shower of uprooted nasturtiums. Tilda now chose a different refuge. She went straight for the Johanneson clothes lines, where the week's wash was hung out to dry, Snowy sheets tiapped tantalizingly in the breeze and Tilda evidently thought. they were waving an her. Anyway, she charged. A day of mis- fortunes! My heart stood still. I looked at Billy and Billy looked at me. Presently 'Filda appeared from under the clothesline. Despiif- my fright I doubled up in helpless laughter. If you have ever seen a cow with sheets fest00i.- ing her horns, you know why. Tilda start-tl at our mirth with wild eyes, her long face peer'- ing out from her veil after the manner of a bride, though a cow-like one to be sure. She whirled around and raced down the litt -e path that led from Johanneson 's to the mam road which was hardly more than six feat wide. On the other side ofthe road was .Iohai - neson's fish shack where fishermen meet to tar nets, paint buoys, talk over the affairs of the nation, and decide how to end the depres- sion. There was a group there now, and the smell of boiling tar mingled rather pleasantly' with the smoke of their ripe.old pies, as their

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MA NET 11 Her suggestion met with great approyal, and fifteen minutes later they were cantermg rap- idly down the main avenue toward the red glare. They galloped through a huge crowd of peasants, armed with axes, cleavers, knives and home-made firearms of all sorts, to the entrance of the famous prison, the Bastille, where mill- ing crowds were setting free the few political prisoners the prison contained. Raoul and Esther, very unimportant-looking in their dark habits, were immediately pulled down and dragged by the infuriated' mob and handed to a group of officials, who had them taken to one of the cells, which was sparsely furnished, and spattered with blood. An un- fortunate guard was sprawled on the floor with his skull shattered. The peasant jailor, his mouth snarling and his red eyes shooting looks of hatred at Esther and Raoul, dra0'e'ed the body out, cursing madly. Est-her laughed hysterically, Raoul, tell me, is it real, or am I dreaming some horrible nightmare ? ' ' Raoul, pacing up and down the cell, and avoiding blood-stains, laughed nervously. I don't know. Isn't it ghastly! Mon Dieu! Will we be killed, or will we stay here for- ever? Going over to her he remarked, I'm going to get out of here! Parbleu! There isn't a decent place to lie down ! He began to shout. and beat on the door of the cell. A guard, covered with gore, came to the door, and pushing the butt of a gun through the bars, struck him in the face. He stumbled back, tripped over Esther's knees, and fell, stunned. Esther slipped down to his side and after wiping the blood from his cheek, slipped into unconsciousness. The guard laughed raucously and went down the hall. A week later, Esther and Raoul, despon- dently looking out on the infuriated mob be- low, watching the eighth cartload of people go to cool the thirst of Madamoiselle la Guillotine, conversed in despairing tones. Esther broke out frantically. Raoul, why don it they take us out there also. and end this suspense? I can't stand this waiting! I think I'm going insane! All the others are gone. Our fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. Mon Dieu, why can't we die? Raoul turned, and taking her in his arms murmured, Ah, Esther, don 't talk that way. XVhatever happens, we 'll always know that we loved each other. And. Esther, can you really blame them? Oh, I know l'm talking foolishly for one who has starved and mistreated them. but think, for years they have been starved to death, worked to death, even put to death for minor offenses. Can you blame them? No, we can only blame ourselves. lVe've got ,just what was coming to us. You know, I don 't think they recognize us. If they did, we would have gone long ago. Db She listened in silence, and then nodded, her beautiful eyes streaming with tears. Yes, I think you're right. Oh, I can look back now and remember things! Why, my father actually beat a stable-boy to death one day! There was a pause, and then she cried out, Oh, can 't we get to England some way? Can't you think of some way to do it? 4'I've been thinking of a plan, he said. It sounds rather wild but there 's a chance it will work. At least it 's worth a try. Later as a guard was leaving the cell, Raoul brought the handle of the riding crop swiftly down on the man's skull, crushing it. He swiftly changed into the man's clothes, and dressed the man in his riding habit, after tying and gagging him securely. He then locked Esther in, so that no one could enter the cell and harm her, and pro- ceeded nonchalantly down the squalid, bloody corridor, his weeks, growth of beard and un- washed face effectively disguising him. The stench of the corridors and cells nearly suf- focated him. On the way out of the building he met a fierce-looking woman, armed with a revolver and three knives 4'Good-day. Citizen. 'I Good-day, Citizeness. ' ' Quick suspicion entered her eyes. Citizen, where did you get that ring you 're wearing ? His heart sank, but he said carelessly, Oh, from one of the prisoners. I told him if he would give it to me, I would free him. The fool! I shall rejoice to see his filthy blood streaming down the sides of the guillotine I Bon Good-day, Citizen ! HGood-day, Citizeness ! After walking a few paces, Raoul leaned against a spattered wall and wiped the perspi- ration from his face. Mon Dieu! I shall not have to go through that again, I hope! He walked away from the clanging, glutton- ous guillotine, toward the outskirts of the citv, after taking off the priceless ring that had been in his family for years. VVhen he came to a group .gf DOW1-ty- stricken hovels, he entered the last one, and came upon a dirty, thin child of six or seven. 'tVVliat. are you doing here? Your father sent me for you. HQ told 1115- to tell you that he would see you in from of the bastille. Hurry, and here 's a franc I found, digging into his pocket. The child greedily snatched the coi11 and ran down the street. before Raoul had entered the house. There were two rooms. a bedroom and a combination kitchen and living room. The floor was dirt. ln the bedroom he found a ragged dress and bonnet, which was too large but would have to do. ii He then went back to the prison, meeting none but a few drowsy gum-dg,