Trooper Tales — page 260: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

244 A Soldier and a Man. she did not hear them. The other red maidens scoffed at her; Eulalie heeded them not. A native fruit vender standing all day at the corner of the plaza saw that she ate nothing. He tossed a couple of bananas in her direc- tion. She carried the fruit for hours in her hand, not knowing that it was there. She lived for nothing save for the smile of her soldier. She remembered nothing save that he had kissed her! And all the while Trooper Arden suffered (though you would have to see his wound to know it), and he watched the little red maiden and rolled cigarettes with his good hand and wondered. In truth, life held no joy for him. Sometimes he felt sorry that Palto, the white- faced, had spoiled the work of the knife. He could not help it, if it were his nature to despair silently, smilingly, because he was not the light of one white woman’s eyes. No, he could not help that, but he could see every minute in the day a woman’s soul through the eyes that watched him from the door-way of the garrison. Trooper Arden could see a woman’s soul with all its ardor, hope, desire and despair. He could not love—no, because to him the past was eternal, since it held a deathless memory. Still, he could pity! And so days grew and became a part of that which is gone; and in none of them was Manrique, the ox-driver, seen in the Ciales café or in the town; but many times the Manati torrent laved the blood from the flanks of his steers as they breasted the fords. And all the while Eu- lalie watched her soldier from the door-way. Eomicdbooks:co