Jason

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Jason

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jason, by Justus Miles Forman This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Jason
Author: Justus Miles Forman
Release Date: August 23, 2004 [EBook #13261]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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JASON
A ROMANCE
BY JUSTUS MILES FORMAN
AUTHOR OF "A STUMBLING BLOCK" "BUCHANAN'S WIFE" "THE ISLAND OF ENCHANTMENT"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. HATHERELL, R.I.
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON MCMIX
COPYRIGHT, 1908.
* * * * *
�� PARIS
M��RE MYST��RIEUSE ... SOEUR CONSOLATRICE ENCHANTERESSE AUX YEUX VOIL��S J�� D��DIE CE PETIT ROMAN EN RECONNAISSANCE J.M.F.
* * * * *

CONTENTS
I. STE. MARIE HEARS OF A MYSTERY AND MEETS A DARK LADY
II. THE LADDER TO THE STARS
III. STE. MARIE MAKES A VOW, BUT A PAIR OF EYES HAUNT HIM
IV. OLD DAVID STEWART
V. JASON SETS FORTH UPON THE GREAT ADVENTURE
VI. A BRAVE GENTLEMAN RECEIVES A HURT, BUT VOLUNTEERS IN A GOOD CAUSE
VII. CAPTAIN STEWART MAKES A KINDLY OFFER
VIII. JASON MEETS WITH A MISADVENTURE AND DREAMS A DREAM
IX. JASON GOES UPON A JOURNEY, AND RICHARD HARTLEY PLEADS FOR HIM
X. CAPTAIN STEWART ENTERTAINS
XI. A GOLDEN LADY ENTERS--THE EYES AGAIN
XII. THE NAME OF THE LADY WITH THE EYES--EVIDENCE HEAPS UP SWIFTLY
XIII. THE VOYAGE TO COLCHIS
XIV. THE WALLS OF AEA
XV. A CONVERSATION AT LA LIERRE
XVI. THE BLACK CAT
XVII. THOSE WHO WERE LEFT BEHIND
XVIII. A CONVERSATION OVERHEARD
XIX. THE INVALID TAKES THE AIR
XX. THE STONE BENCH AT THE ROND POINT
XXI. A MIST DIMS THE SHINING STAR
XXII. A SETTLEMENT REFUSED
XXIII. THE LAST ARROW
XXIV. THE JOINT IN THE ARMOR
XXV. MEDEA GOES OVER TO THE ENEMY
XXVI. BUT THE FLEECE ELECTS TO REMAIN
XXVII. THE NIGHT'S WORK
XXVIII. MEDEA'S LITTLE HOUR
XXIX. THE SCALES OF INJUSTICE
XXX. JASON SAILS BACK TO COLCHIS--JOURNEY'S END
* * * * *

I
STE. MARIE HEARS OF A MYSTERY AND MEETS A DARK LADY
From Ste. Marie's little flat, which overlooked the gardens, they drove down the quiet rue du Luxembourg, and at the Place St. Sulpice turned to the left. They crossed the Place St. Germain des Pr��s, where lines of home-bound working-people stood waiting for places in the electric trams, and groups of students from the Beaux Arts or from Julien's sat under the awnings of the Deux Magots, and so, beyond that busy square, they came into the long and peaceful stretch of the Boulevard St. Germain. The warm, sweet dusk gathered round them as they went, and the evening air was fresh and aromatic in their faces. There had been a little gentle shower in the late afternoon, and roadway and pavement were still damp with it. It had wet the new-grown leaves of the chestnuts and acacias that bordered the street. The scent of that living green blended with the scent of laid dust and the fragrance of the last late-clinging chestnut blossoms; it caught up a fuller, richer burden from the overflowing front of a florist's shop; it stole from open windows a savory whiff of cooking, a salt tang of wood smoke; and the soft little breeze--the breeze of coming summer--mixed all together and tossed them and bore them down the long, quiet street; and it was the breath of Paris, and it shall be in your nostrils and mine, a keen agony of sweetness, so long as we may live and so wide as we may wander--because we have known it and loved it--and in the end we shall go back to breathe it when we die.
The strong white horse jogged evenly along over the wooden pavement, its head down, the little bell at its neck jingling pleasantly as it went. The cocher, a torpid, purplish lump of gross flesh, pyramidal, pearlike, sat immobile in his place. The protuberant back gave him an extraordinary effect of being buttoned into his fawn-colored coat wrong side before. At intervals he jerked the reins like a large strange toy, and his strident voice said:
"H��!" to the stout white horse, which paid no attention whatever. Once the beast stumbled and the pearlike lump of flesh insulted it, saying:
"H��! veux tu, cochon!"
Before the War Office a little black slip of a milliner's girl dodged under the horse's head, saving herself and the huge box slung to her arm by a miracle of agility, and the cocher called her the most frightful names, without turning his head and in a perfunctory tone quite free from passion.
Young Hartley laughed and turned to look at his companion, but Ste. Marie sat still in his place, his hat pulled a little down over his brows and his handsome chin buried in the folds of the white