St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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LOVES' CONQUEST 77 face the picture of rage and despair. It was uncle, a piece of yellow paper was crumpled, crushed between thumb and forefinger. An ugly automatic revolver lay on the table. I saw it was time for action, for quick action, no more dis- guising, things had come to the crisis. As he stood staring at us, I coolly took out my pocketbook and extracted the letter, which the day before I had received from Paris. Slowly I unfolded the pages. Monsieur Jean Louis Champol, I began. With a cry of rage, he reached for his weapon, but I was ready for him, and had him covered. He Hung a curse at me, as he sank limply into a chair. I then read the letter, charg- ing him with abducting his nephew, Francois Mahe, whose mother now lay at the point of death. He heard me through, and then, with a volley of oaths, vowed vengeance. I was short with him. Monsieur Champol, I will give you just twenty-four hours to get out of town, if you are found here by this hour to-morrow, I will turn you over to the civil authorities. You will now leave us alone. Pk Ii: Pk if if Ik Pk 325 It was dusk on Christmas eve when the boy Francois and I mounted the marble steps of the great Parisian I-Iospital. A Sister of Charity, a kindly smile on her sweet face, met us at the office, and offered to conduct us to the room of the lad's mother. She told us as we went along that all had been looking forward eagerly to our arrival, and that she, as superioress of the large institution, had received our fre- quent telegrams, and had undertaken the welcome task of breaking the news gently to the sick parent. The silent corridor seemed never-ending, faintly came the odors of the hospital, here and there a light flashed and a nurse in white cap and apron Hitted quietly past us to answer the summons. Suddenly the Mother Superioress stopped, and with a sign for us to wait, knocked on a door close by. A young nurse opened it, and as I looked into the dimly-lighted room, I saw resting upon the smooth white pillows of the bed, a pale,

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76 IGNATIAN all day, and worked so hard! She thought that I stayed at home while she was out, and never knew I was singing in the street for money. But I wanted to help her. When papa lived, and we were rich, I used to take violin and singing lessons, and so could play and sing better than the other boys on the street. One morning Uncle saw me playing, and after I collected my coins, he walked home with me, talking all the time about my line voice. Next day I met him again. He asked me if I wanted a ride. There were so many things in Paris I wanted to see that I said quickly: 'Yes.' There was a carriage waiting, Uncle spoke to the driver, and we drove away. Then I seemed dizzy, but I remember the noise of the train and the rough people on the boat. I never saw my mother again. I was brought to Leipsic by my uncle, who told me that mama was killed by a 'bus. Then he had me trained for the stage, but first he changed my name, and swore that if I ever mentioned my right name or spoke of mother, he'd kill me. We were slowly moving down Market street towards the Palace. The Chronicle clock registered 5:10, a good fifty minutes before six o'clock. And, Achille,' I asked, what did you say was your right name P Oh!'Monsieur Ralph, was his frightened answer, if uncle heard me, he'd be so mad! He'd kill me-yes, me and you, too. He always has a pistol--automatic, I think he says. Sometimes he puts it right to my face, and then I faint, I am so afraid! Oh! M'sieur, you will not let him know I told you ! I had a difficult task quieting the child as we pulled up before the hotel, Believe me, Achille, I am going to play the big brother to you, and together we'll get the drop on uncle so hard, he wonit be able to call for help. We were soon at the door of the boy's room, and without knocking I opened the door. As I stepped in, a man gazing out the open window swung on his heel, and faced us, his

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78 IGNATIAN drawn face, framed in ringlets of black hair. It was a beautiful face, beautiful in suffering, and the big eyes, glow- ing with the warmth of fever, were turned expectantly to the open door. Francois crowded up close to me, and I whispered a word of comfort. I could feel his boyish heart beating madly in the desire to rush forward and clasp the sweet mother to him. A moment, and he has brushed past Sister and nurse, and flung himself with a cry into those outstretched arms, that closed about him, and strained him passionately to the mother-bosom. Silently, and with a catch in our throats we three, Sister, nurse and I, gently closed the door after us. I felt the hot tears, tears of joy, and there was joy, heavenly, measureless deep down in my heart. That Christmas Day was those two hearts, made one separation. I offered up my Child for the part granted me reunion, and prayed earnestly one of untold happiness for again after years of painful fervent thanks to the Divine to play in this little drama of that the cup of happiness of which they now drank might never be dashed from their lips. JOSEPH S. MCINERNEY. Uhr Eihhen Gnh Disdaining pomp and clothed in robes of earth, That hide His God-head from all mortal eyes, The Savior comes and as an Infant lies Upon His lowly manger-bed. His birth The heavenly choirs announce, but lost in mirth Cruel Bethlem hears no strains, nor in the skies Beholds His star whose dazzling light outvies The sun in splendor and proclaims His worth. Oh, may our hearts upon Christ's natal morn, Unlike those hearts of old that laughed to scorn His humble birth, adore, and gladly own That bed of straw, the Great Creator's throne! And sweetly may they with the angels sing A welcome to our God, our new-born King! Jos. LEISNER.