WORLD'S END

"Oh, how sick I am of this business of killing people! I hear there were several hundred killed and wounded in those May Day riots. The papers don't give us the truth about anything any more!" The kind Mrs. Emily, whose hair had turned snow-white under the stress of war, went on to philosophize about the psychology of the French. They were suffering from shellshock. It was to be hoped that when this treaty was signed they would settle down and become their normal selves. "If they have the League of Nations to protect them - and surely it can't be possible that the American Congress will reject such a great and beneficent plan!"

Beauty controlled her trembling and added a few reflections, derived at second hand from Lanny's professors. After a decent interval she said: "You haven't any idea what's become of that young man?"

"Not a word from him since he left my house that night. I thought it very strange."

"I'll ask Lanny about him," suggested the mother. "He knows many musical people, and might find him. Do you suppose he's related to Jaques-Dalcroze?"

"I asked him that. He told me no."

"Well, I'll see if Lanny can find him."

"But why, Beauty? Isn't it better not to know, under the circumstances?"

"Then you wouldn't want to give him up?" inquired the devious one.

"Surely not - unless I knew he had committed some serious crime. The war is over, so far as I am concerned, and I've not the least interest in getting anybody shot. Let the Sыretй find him if they can."

"Are you satisfied that they believed your story, Emily?"

"It hadn't occurred to me that they wouldn't," was the great lady's reply. She was a most dignified person, and did not have to assume this role. "Apparently they knew all about me, and they talked as if they were gentlemen. They are high officials, I am sure."

"Of course they'd find out how to approach you, Emily. But they probably don't tell anybody all they know, and they might take it for granted that you wouldn't either."

"What on earth are you driving at, Beauty?"

"Well, Lanny keeps telling me how the French are always calling the Crillon staff 'pro-German'; and if there should be German agents in Paris trying to make propaganda on behalf of lifting the blockade, wouldn't it please the French to be able to tie them up with us?"

"What a witch you are!" exclaimed her friend. "You look so innocent and trusting and then you talk like a Sherlock Holmes!"

"Well, Lanny told me the other day that since I have no money I have to develop brains."

"I wonder what Lanny is thinking about me!" reflected the salonniиre; and in their laughter Lanny's mother found a chance to hide the nervous tension under which she was laboring.

II

Beauty declined to have lunch with her friend, saying that she wasn't feeling well and wouldn't dress. As soon as the visitor had departed, she called the Crillon, and said: "Come at once, Lanny. Tell the professor your mother is ill."

The youth had no trouble in guessing what that meant. He made the necessary excuses and reached the hotel as quickly as a taxi could bring him. He found his mother weeping uncontrolledly, and he guessed the worst, and was both relieved and puzzled when he learned that the Sыretй hadn't yet got hold of Kurt, so far as Beauty knew. "Certainly they didn't have him last night," he argued. "And he may be out of the country after all."

"I just know he isn't, Lanny! Something tells me!" Beauty sobbed on; her son hadn't seen her in such a state of distress since the days when she was struggling with Marcel, first to keep him alive, and then to keep him from plunging back into the furnace of war.

Suddenly she looked up, and the youth saw a frightened look in her eyes. "Lanny, I must tell you the truth! You must manage to forgive me!"

"What do you mean, Beauty?"

"Kurt and I are lovers."

Those were the most startling words that Lanny Budd had heard spoken up to that moment of his life. His jaw fell, and all he could think of to say was: "For God's sake!"

"I know you'll be shocked," the mother rushed on. "But I've been so lonely, so distraite since Marcel died. I've tried to tell myself that my baby was enough, but it isn't so, Lanny. I'm just not made to live alone."

"I know, Beauty "

"And Kurt is in the same state. He's lost his wife and baby, he's lost his war, and his home - the Poles are going to have it, and he says he'll never go back to be ruled by them. Don't you see how it is with us?"

"Yes, dear, of course "

"And did you think that Kurt and I could be shut up here in three rooms, and not talk about our hearts, or think about consoling each other?"

"No, I must admit - "