10 Story Book, August 1938 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

INTRIGUING STORIES, SPICED WITH PRETTY GIRLS! 51 take him long to come to the conclusion that Sarras’ motive in kissing the feet of Jesus was not a religious one. Such a thing was out of the Quwestiom. Sarras was a jew, a Jew who boasted of his Jewish blood. And he, the Jew, had kissed the tect ot Jesus, the Crucified One! It was inconceivable, mpessible: anil yet Zingaré had seem at with his own eyes. What other Jew in all the world had ever degraded himself thus? There was but one reason for this mon- strous act of self-abasement, one answer to the riddle. Meeka in keeping her penitential vow had refused Sarras her lips; and he in his mad passion was perforce content- ing himself with kissing something she had Riccee, even. dpe fect ot & statue, the feet of a man, of the Christian’s God, Jesus the Crucified One, Jesus the Jew! And now Zingare realized why Meeka herself had kissed the sacred feet so wildly ecstatically. It that prompted her, but passion. She loved Sar- was not penitence Tas! and gather tham break her yow she was leaving the feet of Jesus wet, not with the blood from the cruel wounds, but with the literal moisture of her lips, the very essence of her being, so that her lover in kassimng the feet after her could taste on them the transferred bliss! Ghastly, livid, undreamed-of penance! Mad, morbid, sub- human. These were new fields of thought to Zingare, undiscovered countries of the emo- tions. He was stunned; he could only grope his way in these unfamiliar agitations of his slow and sleepy brain. But in all the maze, at the end of every vista of dim won- der one light burned brightly, steadily: Re- venge! The penance he had imposed on Meeka, this woman of impure purity, this woman of saintly sin, had tragically failed. But his revenge should not! He ground his teeth as he said this to himself. He would injure her and her Jew as no pair of guilty lovers had ever been injured in the history of the world. His vengeance must stand as hell’s warning forever. IV. When he reached home he found Meeka quite the same as usual, silent, serent, cook- ing a good supper for him. And he, on his side, developed a craft that equalled hers; he dissimulated almost cleverly, veiled his hate and bitterness under sullen complaints about those dogs of peasants who didn't earn half their pay, rubbed his aching back with the cursed cheap lniment that never did him any good, and went to bed. The next evening he went to the church, and the next. Day aiter day he hid am the confessional, week after week. He neglected his work; he let the harvest wither and blacken and rot in the fields. And always the lovers’ performance was the same: Meeka kissed the sacred feet, Sarras would kiss them after her. Then she always left immediately, casting one burning glance at him as she hurried down the aisle. He would follow her outside, watch her disappear in the dusk and then leave in the opposite di- rection. Sometimes Zingare met peasants and villagers at their devotions, and on Sat- urdays he had to be careful not to run into Father Gordnik, who generally heard con- fessions then; but usually the coast was clear. Each day he vowed that the day should be the lovers’ last; he was astonished at himself for delaying his vengeance so long. But he could not make up his mind as to what form it should take. One day he would provide himself with a gun, the next with a knife, the next with a cruel black snake whip. But he felt that all these means of inflicting punishment were ridiculously in- adequate; they were childish, cheap, com- monplace. for the transgressors; death was infinitely too merciful. What method, then, should he use. On two points he was firmly set- Physical torture was too good C@ 3} a NOOKS. GO 3