jean thought like a man, felt like a woman, and acted like a child.
he ravaged the earth and seas at his pleasure.
he was sensitive to the slightest criticism.
as our story begins, he was seated on a soft divan in his oriental hideaway. only a soft blue light burned.
his guests had all departed, well fortified with casks of brandy jean had provided them for their long and arduous journeys back to civilization.
francois, his green parrot and factotum, was cheerfully whistling, until with an imperious gesture, jean bid him be silent.
he ravaged the earth and seas at his pleasure.
he was sensitive to the slightest criticism.
as our story begins, he was seated on a soft divan in his oriental hideaway. only a soft blue light burned.
his guests had all departed, well fortified with casks of brandy jean had provided them for their long and arduous journeys back to civilization.
francois, his green parrot and factotum, was cheerfully whistling, until with an imperious gesture, jean bid him be silent.
the blue light continued to burn, but did not provide any illumination to jean’s sickness of soul.
francois retired discreetly, leaving jean quite alone.
with francois gone, jean’s thoughts drifted ever more precipitously to helene,and her detestable betrayal.
her betrayal had been graceful enough, it had to be admitted.
suddenly the blue light flickered out - clearly a sign.
with the light off, the shadows playing on the water outside the window came into sharper focus.
jean saw faces in the shadows - shadows with pale faces and bright eyes.
he saw men with deep thoughts, women with passionate feelings, and children capable of monstrous acts.
he remembered his past life as a bandit on the bohemian frontier.
how he wished he could return to those simpler days!
the letter from the queen lay on the small oak table beside him - he seized it and crumpled it up.
not that the queen had ever been anything but gracious to him.
the earth had been his - the seas and the heavens as well.
he had had a glimpse of eternity - clear sweet eternity.
he and his comrades and accomplices had taught the world to whistle.
but the joke had grown stale.
where was the queen now? where were the jack of spades, and buck hutchinson?
lost in the shadows, the graceful shadows/
let the queen write her little notes, helene play her little melodies.
jean needed a drink.
because the northern passes of the bohemian frontier had never been more secure.
francois retired discreetly, leaving jean quite alone.
with francois gone, jean’s thoughts drifted ever more precipitously to helene,and her detestable betrayal.
her betrayal had been graceful enough, it had to be admitted.
suddenly the blue light flickered out - clearly a sign.
with the light off, the shadows playing on the water outside the window came into sharper focus.
jean saw faces in the shadows - shadows with pale faces and bright eyes.
he saw men with deep thoughts, women with passionate feelings, and children capable of monstrous acts.
he remembered his past life as a bandit on the bohemian frontier.
how he wished he could return to those simpler days!
the letter from the queen lay on the small oak table beside him - he seized it and crumpled it up.
not that the queen had ever been anything but gracious to him.
the earth had been his - the seas and the heavens as well.
he had had a glimpse of eternity - clear sweet eternity.
he and his comrades and accomplices had taught the world to whistle.
but the joke had grown stale.
where was the queen now? where were the jack of spades, and buck hutchinson?
lost in the shadows, the graceful shadows/
let the queen write her little notes, helene play her little melodies.
jean needed a drink.
because the northern passes of the bohemian frontier had never been more secure.
sources:
- buddy jim, by elizabeth gordon
- the campaign of koniggratz, by arthur l wagner
- three wisconsin cushings, by theron wilber haight
- captain william kidd and others of the buccaneers, by john s c abbott
- the life of general garibaldi, by giuseppe garibaldi
- royal winchester, by a g l’estrange
- the man of genius, by cesare lombardo
- the first christmas tree, by henry van dyke
- the truth about the congo, by frederick starr
- the dark other, by stanley g weinbaum
- a tramp’s scraps, by h i m self
- silver cross, by mary johnston
