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A brigand give it me when 'e 'old up ze train between Mexico City and ze coast. A fine fellow with a sombrero and a manner!" And 'e bow and say: 'One does not take ransom from Mademoiselle Labelle. One pays tribute. And 'e give me this to remember 'im by as I give it you, Monsieur Robert." He stood up sharply. "No I I don't care for that kind of thing." "For your wife, then!" "I am not married."
L. Nicholas Jacques, St. Sulpice. J. Renucalde, St. Jaques. T. Can, St. Esprit. C. J. Ducharme, St. Therese. J. Valliee, St. Scholastique. J. J. Vinet, Arganteuil. M. Power, Beauharnois. J. B. Labelle, Chateauguay. E. Bietz, St. Constant. P. Bedard, St. Remi. C. Aubry, St. Athanase. L. Vinet, Noyon. J. Roque, Noyon. J. Zeph, Carren. F. Berauld, St. Valentia. A. Maresseau, Longueuil.
He had a queer conviction that his was the only static spirit in the whole theatre, that secretly, in their hearts, the audience had flung themselves into the riot with her, the oldest and staidest of them, as perhaps they had often wanted to do when they heard a jolly tune like that. It was artless, graceless. One only needed to let oneself go. "I'm Gyp Labelle, Come dance with me."
From his vantage point he saw the pale-blue chauffeur hold open the door of the pale-blue limousine. A few loiterers gaped. By an ironical chance a barrel-organ in the next street began to grind out the riotous, familiar gallop. It sounded far-off like a jeering echo: "I'm Gyp Labelle; If you dance with me You dance to my tune. . ." A danse macabre.
A string band, hidden in the orchestra under a roof of palms, played the first bars of her dance, and then stopped short and waited solemnly. She still stood, glass in hand. "It is my birthday. God and I alone know which one. I drink to myself. I wish myself good luck. Vive myself. Vive Gyp Labelle and all who 'ave loved 'er and love 'er and shall love 'er!"
It is highly interesting to find emerging occasionally in these reports the names of men who afterwards became outstanding figures in the Force. Constable Labelle is especially singled out for mention by Inspector Jarvis, because of his special attention to the horses which were pulled through largely by his assiduous care. A man of that kind wins our respect and appreciation.
I keep it for a mascot, and you will remember to-morrow morning, when you are ver' grave and important with some poor frightened patient, that Gyp Labelle kiss you last night, and that you are not different from ze others, after all. And I will take my shilling from under my pillow, and say: 'Poor Gyp, that's what you're worth, my friend!" "He doesn't know you yet."
It demanded of him something that he could not, and dared not, yield. And she was pitifully alone. The woman in the hospital had not been more forsaken by her world. As to Gyp Labelle she went her way, and the gossip columns cautiously recorded the more startling items of that progress.
These people were sick and ugly sicklier and uglier in their pleasure-seeking than in their stubborn struggle for survival, which had at least some elemental dignity. It was from their poisoned lives that women like Gyp Labelle sucked their strength. It was their childish perverted instincts that made her possible. They made the very thought of immorality a grisly joke.
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