ht me, and
there is much talk. Of that I am weary, but for this I tell you all how
it is about Filon; M'siu, I would not hang. Look you, so long as I stay
in this life I am quit of that man, but if I die--there is Filon. So
will he do unto me all that I did at the ford of Crevecoeur, and more;
for he is a bad one, Filon. Therefore it is as I tell you, M'siu, I,
Raoul. By the help of God. Yes.

A CALIFORNIAN

BY

GERALDINE BONNER

From _Harper's Magazine_ _Copyright_, 1905, by Harper and Brothers

IT WAS nearly ten o'clock when Jack Faraday ascended the steps of Madame
Delmonti's bow-windowed mansion and pressed the electric bell. He was a
little out of breath and nervous, for, being young and a stranger to San
Francisco, and almost a stranger to Madame Delmonti, he did not exactly
know at what hour his hostess's _conversazione_ might begin, and had
upon him the young man's violent dread of being conspicuously early or
conspicuously late.

It did not seem that he was either. As he stood in the doorway and
surveyed the field, he felt, with a little rising breath of relief, that
no one appeared to take especial notice of him. Madame Delmonti's rooms
were lit with a great blaze of gas, which, thrown back from many long
mirrors and the gold mountings of a quantity of furniture and picture
frames, made an effect of dazzling yellow brightness, as brilliantly
glittering as the transformation scene of a pantomime.

In the middle of the glare Madame Delmonti's company had disposed
themselves in a circle, which had some difficulty in accommodating
itself to the long narrow shape of the drawing-room. Now and then an
obstinate sofa or extra large plush-covered arm-chair broke the
harmonious curve of the circle, and its occupant looked furtively ill at
ease, as if she felt the embarrassment of her position in not conforming
to the general harmony of the curving line.

The eyes of the circle were fixed on a figure at the piano, near the end
of the room--a tall dark Jewess in a brown dress and wide hat, who was
singing with that peculiar vibrant richness of tone that is so often
heard in the voices of the Californian Jewesses. She was perfectly
self-possessed, and her velvet eyes, as her impassioned voice rose a
little, rested on Jack Faraday with a cheerful but not very lively
interest. Then they swept past him to where on a sofa, quite out of the
circle, two women sat listening.

One was a young girl, large, well-