Chapter I: SAT as if I had been turned to stone

A NEAPOLITAN STREET SONG

ALONE--

A CITY full of lights, of pleasure. The sea singing to itself as it rolled quietly into the harbor. A glow of light on distant Vesuvius. Gay throngs of people passing to and fro in the summer evening. Alone. For the first time in her life.

A HEAVY heart--there was no joy.

THEY had come to Naples on their wedding journey. Her brief happiness had been taken--torn from her.

ASHES. He--cold--rigid--lay in the adjoining room.

TWO candles burned. A nun prayed. Monica leaned out of the window.

THROUGH her tears she saw a star shining in the night.

A STAR of sorrow.

THE sea--they had gone together on its blue waves to Capri--to Sorrento--

WAS it some terrible nightmare--would she awaken and find him near.

FROM a distant street came the sound of music--gay--lively--a Neapolitan street song.

HOW could there be joy. The sound was agony. An organ might have soothed.

HAD there ever been a time when gay music delighted.

O SOLE MIO sang the clear voices of the street singers. They drew nearer--and stopped under the window.

MONICA'S wounded inward self cried out for silence

THE world was drear. There should be no joyful singing.

SHE looked down absently. A young girl stood a little apart from the singers. Monica noticed her--and their tearful eyes met.

THEN singers also could know sorrow.

SUDDENLY--her own seemed lightened.

MONICA'S soul surged forward. She wanted to comfort, to help this brown-eyed girl. Perhaps her grief was harder to bear.

ONE of the men stepped toward the girl and pushed her rudely.

SING he commanded.

O PADRE MIO--she broke into sobs. The singers moved on to another street.

MONICA had read into another soul.

DEEP calling unto deep.

IN ALGIERS

MOONLIGHT--the still waters of the ocean--

THE deck of a ship--

ROMANCE and beauty--

THE great liner sailed near the northern coast of Africa. On the deck they had become engaged--the moonlight shone on them.

* * * * *

DUSK and bitter cold. A young woman paced up and down in the snow, waiting the coming of a train.

IT was a small town in the Interior of Russia--of the Russia torn by wars and rebellions at home. A sorrow-stricken land.

THE mystery, the romance of the night--the distant shores of Africa--seemed still upon her. She could almost feel the murmur of the water as it splashed against the boat.

AND the next day--Algiers--the quaint streets--the mosques--flowers--and white robed Arabs.

VERY quietly they had been married in the Cathedral which bears the name of a whole continent.

NOTRE DAME D'AFRIQUE.

THE sun had smiled as it shone on the city by the sea.

IT grew colder.

A TRAIN came into sight on the vast field of snow.

ON that train the man she loved and had married was coming to her.

THAT enchanted period in Algiers--He was returning--perhaps a wreck of his once splendid self--a cripple

WAR

IT had shattered homes--brought skeletons--where once children laughed.

BROUGHT famine--once birds had eaten crumbs.

WAR--

HORROR--dismay

SHE waited

* * * * *

HIS eyes were aghast--eyes that had seen death--murder--horror--side by side--

THERE was no more laughter. He took Anna into his arms. Then the report was not true. He had not given his right arm.

ANNA, he whispered, My brave Anna

* * * * *

I HAVE been thinking of Algiers, she murmured. We planned to have sunshine--and roses--even among the snows of our country. But we faced blood--blood on the snows of our forests--

* * * * *

IVAN, it is bitter cold. Do not go out--into the night--

TO Africa. The moon will be making golden streaks upon the water. A rose will be blooming in our garden--his eyes were vacant.

THEN it was not his arm he had given for Russia--it was--

A CRY pierced the cold air.

THE weight of a dead body resounded.