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

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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,

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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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Z2 MANET He opened the cell door, and handed the clothes to Esther, who changed quickly, Whlle he waited outside the door. She came out, her iiair mussed. her face streaked with dirt from fhe floor. Together they hurried down the corridors, and out into the bloody, autumn air, where fhey were greeted left and right by the now 'iniversal greeting of Good-day, Citizenf' and Good-day, Oitizeness. Two weeks later they were on a leaky fishing boat, crossing the channel to Dover. ,They had gnade their way to the coast after many hard ilays spent in securing rides and lodging from fhe still revolting peasants. They stood at the stern of the boat and watched the bloody shores of France recede in the distance, thanking the inerciful God who rules our destinies. that they had been so mercifully spared. EDITH LLOYD, II-6. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW t ' I The back door bell of Mrs. Adams' big White house rang timedly. Mrs. Adams herself, clad in a severe, rather old fashioned gown, answered the ring, while the hired girlhovered -in the back-ground. COakleaves, Maine, still had 'ihired girls, not maids.5 U . The early April sunshine was peeking in 'hrough the crack, and when Mrs. Adams opened the heavy door, the sunlight came boldly in, revealing a shabby little figure who, however, came no farther than the threshold. Good morning, ma 'am, said he. fumbling .1 shabby little cap in his Wide, knotty fingers. I was a-thinkin' that maybe as it 's spring 1-leanin' time youid have some work to be done, as I thought that since I've been kinda' in the habit of doin' your chores, you'd be wanting me-. His voice trailed of expectantly. Mrs. Adams was annoyed. She didn't like men whose trousers had that peculiar habit of sagging in the back, and threatening to turn finder their heels. iiNo, she said crisply, There's no work for you to do. Now get along with you. The little old man's overalls seemed to sag a little more at her words. 'Now don't think hard on me, ma'am, begged the owner of the saggy overalls. I'm sorry to have bothered you, but I was just a- vhinkin'. There was a slight pause during which a robin hopped across the lawn and industriously pulled forth a fat worm. XVell, good-day. ma 'am. The pitifully disappointed look on the old 1nan's face was enough to soften the hardest heart and Mrs. Adams did not have the hardest. On second thought. said Mrs. Adams briskly. UAggie will perhaps find something to flo. Vonie in. Mrs. Adams returned to the living room after instructing Aggie as to what duties and What pay should be given to the old man. Seated in a wide chair with one leg up under her, Was Bette, Mrs Adams' niece. Wl1o was that adorably shabby little old fellow? she asked her aunt. That old man? Oh, he 's been around here since the town was built, I guess. His Wife died soo11 after the birth of their only son. The boy was a comely chap, and bid fair to turn out well, but when he was eighteen-that was about six years ago-he got a job in a bank, and soon after some money disappeared, and he was ac- cused. They couldn't prove anything, but the boy left town because of the disgrace. His father 's been getting poorer and poorer, but he still thinks that his son is a good boy, even though he never hears from him. Mrs. Adams stood up suddenly. But that's enough talk- ing: there's much to be' done. And she swept out. Poor old thing, said Bette, softly. Poor thing. It took Bette just two weeks to become fast friends with the old man. She learned that his name was Rogers, and that his beloved son 's was Jerry. He had dark hair, said Mr. Rogers one warm day, sitting down beside Bette on the front step of his little house, first pulling up his trousers, and then letting the fullness there- of settle down in back of him. Dark hair, not golden like yours. And brown eyes, like his mother's, and a tiny bit slanty, not blue and straight, like yours. And he was a good boy, Miss Bette, and don it you let no one tell you different. He never took no money. Bette was exceedingly sympathetic. She sat with her white elbows on her knees, heedlessly crumpling her white muslin dress, gazing With her wide blue eyes over the pasture. And you never heard from him? she asked. - .Never. But he 's alive, Miss, and don't you-. lVhat's the matter, Miss? Bette's wide troubled eyes turned to him. t'See that man going down the road now? she asked. VVho is he? S Him'? Oh, that's James Clarke. He was junior pardner of the bank where my boy worked. Why? Know him'?,' Oh no, no. I just thought I did. Come, letfs go inside and have lunch. Mr. Rogers followed Betteis sunshine figure into the meticulously clean house, Where he watched her prepare lunch from a basket which she had brought with her. Now I could have got some vittles to- gether, said the old man protestingly from a chair in a corner Where he sat much like a troublesome small boy put out of the way. I.know, I know, said Bette, her heart catching at his defiant pretense that he was