IV
THE HOUR OF GOLD
IT was easy to satisfy French justice.
Ida Pendragon was
compared to several early Christian martyrs whose names
I have forgotten
; Edgar Rolles was asked to sit for a picture
of St George by Follat, the success of the year’s salon.
Humanitarian papers urged the law to suppress boxing and
its
brutalities.
Texans
in
Paris
argued
and
rejoiced;
Parisians in Texas went with a clear conscience to such
lynchings as occurred
Ida was convalescent.
She would never lose the awful
scars that jagged her throat; but would her face ever lose its
mysterious
exaltation?
When
Edgar saw
her, he
was
almost afraid to understand.
Leaving her, he went through
the heart of Paris to a certain house.
He wished to be
certain ; he wished to consult a Brother of the Silver Star.
Now it is very easy to find a Brother, when you know the
password.
But it is not always easy to get that Brother to
tell you what you want
He is almost certain to be ex-
ceedingly rude; he is extremely likely to insist on talking
common sense, which is annoying when you go for exalted
mysticism; and quite possibly he may just nod, and continue
his labours, which is maddening when your business is of the
highest importance to you, and to him, and to the Brother—
!43