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diff --git a/12280-h/12280-h.htm b/12280-h/12280-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e2a729a --- /dev/null +++ b/12280-h/12280-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12584 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Grandissimes, by +George Washington Cable.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + blockquote {text-align: justify; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + IMG { + BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; + BORDER-TOP: 0px; + BORDER-LEFT: 0px; + BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px } + .ctr { TEXT-ALIGN: center } + .rgt { float: right; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: -14%; + margin-right: -5%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + .par { float: left; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 0%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12280 ***</div> + +<a name="gs2000.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2000.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2000.jpg" width="60%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"They paused a little within the obscurity of the corridor,<br> +and just to reassure themselves that everything <i>was</i> 'all +right'".</b></p> +<br> +<br> +<h1>THE GRANDISSIMES</h1> +<br> +<h2>BY GEORGE W. CABLE</h2> +<br> +<h3>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br> +<br> +ALBERT HERTER</h3> +<br> +<h4>MDCCCXCIX</h4> +<br> +<h5>1899</h5> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<blockquote> +<ul> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I. Masked Batteries.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II. The Fate of the Immigrant.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III. "And who is my Neighbor?"</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV. Family Trees.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V. A Maiden who will not Marry.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI. Lost Opportunities.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII. Was it Honoré +Grandissime?</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII. Signed--Honoré +Grandissime.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX. Illustrating the Tractive Power of +Basil.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X. "Oo dad is, 'Sieur +Frowenfel'?"</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI. Sudden Flashes of Light.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII. The Philosophe.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII. A Call from the +Rent-Spectre.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV. Before Sunset.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV. Rolled in the Dust.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI. Starlight in the rue +Chartres.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII. That Night.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII. New Light upon Dark +Places.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX. Art and Commerce.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX. A very Natural Mistake.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI. Doctor Keene Recovers his +Bullet.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII. Wars within the Breast.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII. Frowenfeld Keeps his +Appointment.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV. Frowenfeld Makes an +Argument.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV. Aurora as a Historian.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI. A Ride and a Rescue.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII. The Fête de +Grandpère.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII. The Story of +Bras-Coupé.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX. The Story of Bras-Coupé, +Continued.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX. Paralysis.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI. Another Wound in a New +Place.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII. Interrupted +Preliminaries.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII. Unkindest Cut of +All.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV. Clotilde as a Surgeon.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV. "Fo' wad you Cryne?"</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI. Aurora's Last +Picayune.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII. Honoré Makes some +Confessions.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII. Tests of +Friendship.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX. Louisiana States her +Wants.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL. Frowenfeld Finds Sylvestre.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI. To Come to the Point.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII. An Inheritance of Wrong.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII. The Eagle Visits the Doves in +their Nest.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV. Bad for Charlie Keene.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV. More Reparation.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI. The Pique-en-terre Loses One of +her Crew.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII. The News.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">XLVIII. An Indignant Family and a +Smashed Shop.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">XLIX. Over the New Store.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_L">L. A Proposal of Marriage.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LI">LI. Business Changes.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LII">LII. Love Lies-a-Bleeding.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">LIII. Frowenfeld at the Grandissime +Mansion.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">LIV. "Cauldron Bubble".</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LV">LV. Caught.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">LVI. Blood for a Blow.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">LVII. Voudou Cured.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">LVIII. Dying Words.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LIX">LIX. Where some Creole Money +Goes.</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LX">LX. "All Right".</a></li> +<li><a href="#CHAPTER_LXI">LXI. "No!".</a></li> +</ul> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PHOTOGRAVURES</h2> +<blockquote> +<ul> +<li><a href="#gs2000.jpg">"They paused a little within the +obscurity of the corridor, and just to reassure themselves that +everything <i>was</i> 'all right'" <i>Frontispiece</i>.</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2010.jpg">"She looked upon an unmasked, noble +countenance, lifted her own mask a little, and then a little more; +and then shut it quickly".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2026.jpg">"The daughter of the Natchez sitting in +majesty, clothed in many-colored robes of shining feathers crossed +and recrossed with girdles of serpent-skins and of +wampum".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2102.jpg">"Aurora,--alas! alas!--went down upon her +knees with her gaze fixed upon the candle's flame".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2162.jpg">"The young man with auburn curls rested +the edge of his burden upon the counter, tore away its wrappings +and disclosed a painting".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2188.jpg">"Silently regarding the intruder with a +pair of eyes that sent an icy chill through him and fastened him +where he stood, lay Palmyre Philosophe".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2198.jpg">"On their part, they would sit in deep +attention, shielding their faces from the fire, and responding to +enunciations directly contrary to their convictions with an +occasional 'yes-seh,' or 'ceddenly,' or 'of coze,' or,--prettier +affirmation still,--a solemn drooping of the eyelids".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2260.jpg">"Bras-Coupé was practically +declaring his independence on a slight rise of ground hardly sixty +feet in circumference and lifted scarce above the water in the +inmost depths of the swamp".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2308.jpg">"'Ma lill dotter, wad dad meggin you cry? +Iv you will tell me wad dad mague you cry, I will tell you--on ma +<i>second word of honor</i>'--she rolled up her fist--'juz wad I +thing about dad 'Sieur Frowenfel!'".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2334.jpg">"His head was bowed, a heavy grizzled +lock fell down upon his dark, frowning brow, one hand clenched the +top of his staff, the other his knee, and both trembled +violently".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2424.jpg">"The tall figure of Palmyre rose slowly +and silently from her chair, her eyes lifted up and her lips moving +noiselessly. She seemed to have lost all knowledge of place or of +human presence".</a></li> +<li><a href="#gs2436.jpg">"They turned in a direction opposite to +the entrance and took chairs in a cool nook of the paved court, at +a small table where the hospitality of Clemence had placed glasses +of lemonade".</a></li> +</ul> +<br> +<i>In addition to the foregoing, the stories are illustrated with +eight smaller photogravures from drawings by Mr. +Herter</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<p class="lft"><img src="images/gs2001.jpg" width="60%" alt=""></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>MASKED BATTERIES</h3> +<br> +<p>It was in the Théatre St. Philippe (they had laid a +temporary floor over the parquette seats) in the city we now call +New Orleans, in the month of September, and in the year 1803. Under +the twinkle of numberless candles, and in a perfumed air thrilled +with the wailing ecstasy of violins, the little Creole capital's +proudest and best were offering up the first cool night of the +languidly departing summer to the divine Terpsichore. For summer +there, bear in mind, is a loitering gossip, that only begins to +talk of leaving when September rises to go. It was like hustling +her out, it is true, to give a select <i>bal masqué</i> at +such a very early--such an amusingly early date; but it was fitting +that something should be done for the sick and the destitute; and +why not this? Everybody knows the Lord loveth a cheerful giver.</p> +<p>And so, to repeat, it was in the Théatre St. Philippe +(the oldest, the first one), and, as may have been noticed, in the +year in which the First Consul of France gave away Louisiana. Some +might call it "sold." Old Agricola Fusilier in the rumbling pomp of +his natural voice--for he had an hour ago forgotten that he was in +mask and domino--called it "gave away." Not that he believed it had +been done; for, look you, how could it be? The pretended treaty +contained, for instance, no provision relative to the great family +of Brahmin Mandarin Fusilier de Grandissime. It was evidently +spurious.</p> +<p>Being bumped against, he moved a step or two aside, and was +going on to denounce further the detestable rumor, when a +masker--one of four who had just finished the contra-dance and were +moving away in the column of promenaders--brought him smartly +around with the salutation:</p> +<p>"<i>Comment to yé, Citoyen Agricola!</i>"</p> +<p>"H-you young kitten!" said the old man in a growling voice, and +with the teased, half laugh of aged vanity as he bent a baffled +scrutiny at the back-turned face of an ideal Indian Queen. It was +not merely the <i>tutoiement</i> that struck him as saucy, but the +further familiarity of using the slave dialect. His French was +unprovincial.</p> +<p>"H-the cool rascal!" he added laughingly, and, only half to +himself; "get into the garb of your true sex, sir, h-and I will +guess who you are!"</p> +<p>But the Queen, in the same feigned voice as before, +retorted:</p> +<p>"<i>Ah! mo piti fils, to pas connais to zancestres?</i> Don't +you know your ancestors, my little son!"</p> +<p>"H-the g-hods preserve us!" said Agricola, with a pompous laugh +muffled under his mask, "the queen of the Tchoupitoulas I proudly +acknowledge, and my great-grandfather, Epaminondas Fusilier, +lieutenant of dragoons under Bienville; but,"--he laid his hand +upon his heart, and bowed to the other two figures, whose smaller +stature betrayed the gentler sex--"pardon me, ladies, neither Monks +nor <i>Filles à la Cassette</i> grow on our family +tree."</p> +<p>The four maskers at once turned their glance upon the old man in +the domino; but if any retort was intended it gave way as the +violins burst into an agony of laughter. The floor was immediately +filled with waltzers and the four figures disappeared.</p> +<p>"I wonder," murmured Agricola to himself, "if that Dragoon can +possibly be Honoré Grandissime."</p> +<p>Wherever those four maskers went there were cries of delight: +"Ho, ho, ho! see there! here! there! a group of first colonists! +One of Iberville's Dragoons! don't you remember great-great +grandfather Fusilier's portrait--the gilded casque and heron +plumes? And that one behind in the fawn-skin leggings and shirt of +birds' skins is an Indian Queen. As sure as sure can be, they are +intended for Epaminondas and his wife, Lufki-Humma!" All, of +course, in Louisiana French.</p> +<p>"But why, then, does he not walk with her?"</p> +<p>"Why, because, Simplicity, both of them are men, while the +little Monk on his arm is a lady, as you can see, and so is the +masque that has the arm of the Indian Queen; look at their little +hands."</p> +<p>In another part of the room the four were greeted with, "Ha, ha, +ha! well, that is magnificent! But see that Huguenotte Girl on the +Indian Queen's arm! Isn't that fine! Ha, ha! she carries a little +trunk. She is a <i>Fille à la Cassette!</i>"</p> +<p>Two partners in a cotillion were speaking in an undertone, +behind a fan.</p> +<p>"And you think you know who it is?" asked one.</p> +<p>"Know?" replied the other. "Do I know I have a head on my +shoulders? If that Dragoon is not our cousin Honoré +Grandissime--well--"</p> +<p>"Honoré in mask? he is too sober-sided to do such a +thing."</p> +<p>"I tell you it is he! Listen. Yesterday I heard Doctor Charlie +Keene begging him to go, and telling him there were two ladies, +strangers, newly arrived in the city, who would be there, and whom +he wished him to meet. Depend upon it the Dragoon is Honoré, +Lufki-Humma is Charlie Keene, and the Monk and the Huguenotte are +those two ladies."</p> +<p>But all this is an outside view; let us draw nearer and see what +chance may discover to us behind those four masks.</p> +<p>An hour has passed by. The dance goes on; hearts are beating, +wit is flashing, eyes encounter eyes with the leveled lances of +their beams, merriment and joy and sudden bright surprises thrill +the breast, voices are throwing off disguise, and beauty's coy ear +is bending with a venturesome docility; here love is baffled, there +deceived, yonder takes prisoners and here surrenders. The very air +seems to breathe, to sigh, to laugh, while the musicians, with +disheveled locks, streaming brows and furious bows, strike, draw, +drive, scatter from the anguished violins a never-ending rout of +screaming harmonies. But the Monk and the Huguenotte are not on the +floor. They are sitting where they have been left by their two +companions, in one of the boxes of the theater, looking out upon +the unwearied whirl and flash of gauze and light and color.</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>chérie, chérie!</i>" murmured the little +lady in the Monk's disguise to her quieter companion, and speaking +in the soft dialect of old Louisiana, "now you get a good idea of +heaven!"</p> +<p>The <i>Fille à la Cassette</i> replied with a sudden turn +of her masked face and a murmur of surprise and protest against +this impiety. A low, merry laugh came out of the Monk's cowl, and +the Huguenotte let her form sink a little in her chair with a +gentle sigh.</p> +<p>"Ah, for shame, tired!" softly laughed the other; then suddenly, +with her eyes fixed across the room, she seized her companion's +hand and pressed it tightly. "Do you not see it?" she whispered +eagerly, "just by the door--the casque with the heron feathers. Ah, +Clotilde, I <i>cannot</i> believe he is one of those +Grandissimes!"</p> +<p>"Well," replied the Huguenotte, "Doctor Keene says he is +not."</p> +<p>Doctor Charlie Keene, speaking from under the disguise of the +Indian Queen, had indeed so said; but the Recording Angel, whom we +understand to be particular about those things, had immediately +made a memorandum of it to the debit of Doctor Keene's account.</p> +<p>"If I had believed that it was he," continued the whisperer, "I +would have turned about and left him in the midst of the +contra-dance!"</p> +<p>Behind them sat unmasked a well-aged pair, +"<i>bredouillé</i>," as they used to say of the +wall-flowers, with that look of blissful repose which marks the +married and established Creole. The lady in monk's attire turned +about in her chair and leaned back to laugh with these. The passing +maskers looked that way, with a certain instinct that there was +beauty under those two costumes. As they did so, they saw the +<i>Fille à la Cassette</i> join in this over-shoulder +conversation. A moment later, they saw the old gentleman protector +and the <i>Fille à la Cassette</i> rising to the dance. And +when presently the distant passers took a final backward glance, +that same Lieutenant of Dragoons had returned and he and the little +Monk were once more upon the floor, waiting for the music.</p> +<p>"But your late companion?" said the voice in the cowl.</p> +<p>"My Indian Queen?" asked the Creole Epaminondas.</p> +<p>"Say, rather, your Medicine-Man," archly replied the Monk.</p> +<p>"In these times," responded the Cavalier, "a medicine-man cannot +dance long without professional interruption, even when he dances +for a charitable object. He has been called to two relapsed +patients." The music struck up; the speaker addressed himself to +the dance; but the lady did not respond.</p> +<p>"Do dragoons ever moralize?" she asked.</p> +<p>"They do more," replied her partner; "sometimes, when beauty's +enjoyment of the ball is drawing toward its twilight, they catch +its pleasant melancholy, and confess; will the good father sit in +the confessional?"</p> +<p>The pair turned slowly about and moved toward the box from which +they had come, the lady remaining silent; but just as they were +entering she half withdrew her arm from his, and, confronting him +with a rich sparkle of the eyes within the immobile mask of the +monk, said:</p> +<p>"Why should the conscience of one poor little monk carry all the +frivolity of this ball? I have a right to dance, if I wish. I give +you my word, Monsieur Dragoon, I dance only for the benefit of the +sick and the destitute. It is you men--you dragoons and others--who +will not help them without a compensation in this sort of nonsense. +Why should we shrive you when you ought to burn?"</p> +<p>"Then lead us to the altar," said the Dragoon.</p> +<p>"Pardon, sir," she retorted, her words entangled with a musical, +open-hearted laugh, "I am not going in that direction." She cast +her glance around the ball-room. "As you say, it is the twilight of +the ball; I am looking for the evening star,--that is, my little +Huguenotte."</p> +<p>"Then you are well mated."</p> +<p>"How?"</p> +<p>"For you are Aurora."</p> +<p>The lady gave a displeased start.</p> +<p>"Sir!"</p> +<p>"Pardon," said the Cavalier, "if by accident I have hit upon +your real name--"</p> +<p>She laughed again--a laugh which was as exultantly joyous as it +was high-bred.</p> +<p>"Ah, my name? Oh no, indeed!" (More work for the Recording +Angel.)</p> +<p>She turned to her protectress.</p> +<p>"Madame, I know you think we should be going home."</p> +<p>The senior lady replied in amiable speech, but with sleepy eyes, +and the Monk began to lift and unfold a wrapping. As the Cavalier' +drew it into his own possession, and, agreeably to his gesture, the +Monk and he sat down side by side, he said, in a low tone:</p> +<p>"One more laugh before we part."</p> +<p>"A monk cannot laugh for nothing."</p> +<p>"I will pay for it."</p> +<p>"But with nothing to laugh at?" The thought of laughing at +nothing made her laugh a little on the spot.</p> +<p>"We will make something to laugh at," said the Cavalier; "we +will unmask to each other, and when we find each other first +cousins, the laugh will come of itself."</p> +<p>"Ah! we will unmask?--no! I have no cousins. I am certain we are +strangers."</p> +<p>"Then we will laugh to think that I paid for the +disappointment."</p> +<p>Much more of this childlike badinage followed, and by and by +they came around again to the same last statement. Another little +laugh escaped from the cowl.</p> +<p>"You will pay? Let us see; how much will you give to the sick +and destitute?"</p> +<p>"To see who it is I am laughing with, I will give whatever you +ask."</p> +<p>"Two hundred and fifty dollars, cash, into the hands of the +managers!"</p> +<p>"A bargain!"</p> +<p>The Monk laughed, and her chaperon opened her eyes and smiled +apologetically. The Cavalier laughed, too, and said:</p> +<p>"Good! That was the laugh; now the unmasking."</p> +<p>"And you positively will give the money to the managers not +later than to-morrow evening?"</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2010.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2010.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2010.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"She looked upon an unmasked, noble countenance, lifted her own +mask a little,<br> +and then a little more; and then shut it quickly".</b></p> +<br> +<p>"Not later. It shall be done without fail."</p> +<p>"Well, wait till I put on my wrappings; I must be ready to +run."</p> +<p>This delightful nonsense was interrupted by the return of the +<i>Fille à la Cassette</i> and her aged, but sprightly, +escort, from a circuit of the floor. Madame again opened her eyes, +and the four prepared to depart. The Dragoon helped the Monk to +fortify herself against the outer air. She was ready before the +others. There was a pause, a low laugh, a whispered "Now!" She +looked upon an unmasked, noble countenance, lifted her own mask a +little, and then a little more; and then shut it quickly down again +upon a face whose beauty was more than even those fascinating +graces had promised which Honoré Grandissime had fitly named +the Morning; but it was a face he had never seen before.</p> +<p>"Hush!" she said, "the enemies of religion are watching us; the +Huguenotte saw me. Adieu"--and they were gone.</p> +<p>M. Honoré Grandissime turned on his heel and very soon +left the ball.</p> +<p>"Now, sir," thought he to himself, "we'll return to our +senses."</p> +<p>"Now I'll put my feathers on again," says the plucked bird.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>THE FATE OF THE IMMIGRANT</h3> +<br> +<p>It was just a fortnight after the ball, that one Joseph +Frowenfeld opened his eyes upon Louisiana. He was an American by +birth, rearing and sentiment, yet German enough through his +parents, and the only son in a family consisting of father, mother, +self, and two sisters, new-blown flowers of womanhood. It was an +October dawn, when, long wearied of the ocean, and with bright +anticipations of verdure, and fragrance, and tropical gorgeousness, +this simple-hearted family awoke to find the bark that had borne +them from their far northern home already entering upon the ascent +of the Mississippi.</p> +<p>We may easily imagine the grave group, as they came up one by +one from below, that morning of first disappointment, and stood +(with a whirligig of jubilant mosquitoes spinning about each head) +looking out across the waste, seeing the sky and the marsh meet in +the east, the north, and the west, and receiving with patient +silence the father's suggestion that the hills would, no doubt, +rise into view after a while.</p> +<p>"My children, we may turn this disappointment into a lesson; if +the good people of this country could speak to us now, they might +well ask us not to judge them or their land upon one or two hasty +glances, or by the experiences of a few short days or weeks."</p> +<p>But no hills rose. However, by and by they found solace in the +appearance of distant forest, and in the afternoon they entered a +land--but such a land! A land hung in mourning, darkened by +gigantic cypresses, submerged; a land of reptiles, silence, shadow, +decay.</p> +<p>"The captain told father, when we went to engage passage, that +New Orleans was on high land," said the younger daughter, with a +tremor in the voice, and ignoring the remonstrative touch of her +sister.</p> +<p>"On high land?" said the captain, turning from the pilot; "well, +so it is--higher than the swamp, but not higher than the river," +and he checked a broadening smile.</p> +<p>But the Frowenfelds were not a family to complain. It was +characteristic of them to recognize the bright as well as the +solemn virtues, and to keep each other reminded of the duty of +cheerfulness. A smile, starting from the quiet elder sister, went +around the group, directed against the abstracted and somewhat +rueful countenance of Joseph, whereat he turned with a better face +and said that what the Creator had pronounced very good they could +hardly feel free to condemn. The old father was still more stout of +heart.</p> +<p>"These mosquitoes, children, are thought by some to keep the air +pure," he said.</p> +<p>"Better keep out of it after sunset," put in the captain.</p> +<p>After that day and night, the prospect grew less repellent. A +gradually matured conviction that New Orleans would not be found +standing on stilts in the quagmire enabled the eye to become +educated to a better appreciation of the solemn landscape. Nor was +the landscape always solemn. There were long openings, now and +then, to right and left, of emerald-green savannah, with the +dazzling blue of the Gulf far beyond, waving a thousand +white-handed good-byes as the funereal swamps slowly shut out again +the horizon. How sweet the soft breezes off the moist prairies! How +weird, how very near, the crimson and green and black and yellow +sunsets! How dream-like the land and the great, whispering river! +The profound stillness and breath reminded the old German, so he +said, of that early time when the evenings and mornings were the +first days of the half-built world. The barking of a dog in Fort +Plaquemines seemed to come before its turn in the panorama of +creation--before the earth was ready for the dog's master.</p> +<p>But he was assured that to live in those swamps was not entirely +impossible to man--"if one may call a negro a man." Runaway slaves +were not so rare in them as one--a lost hunter, for example--might +wish. His informant was a new passenger, taken aboard at the fort. +He spoke English.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir! Didn' I had to run from Bras-Coupé in de +haidge of de swamp be'ine de 'abitation of my cousin Honoré, +one time? You can hask 'oo you like!" (A Creole always provides +against incredulity.) At this point he digressed a moment: "You +know my cousin, Honoré Grandissime, w'at give two hund' +fifty dolla' to de 'ospill laz mont'? An' juz because my cousin +Honoré give it, somebody helse give de semm. Fo' w'y don't +he give his nemm?"</p> +<p>The reason (which this person did not know) was that the second +donor was the first one over again, resolved that the little +unknown Monk should not know whom she had baffled.</p> +<p>"Who was Bras-Coupé?" the good German asked in +French.</p> +<p>The stranger sat upon the capstan, and, in the shadow of the +cypress forest, where the vessel lay moored for a change of wind, +told in a <i>patois</i> difficult, but not impossible, to +understand, the story of a man who chose rather to be hunted like a +wild beast among those awful labyrinths, than to be yoked and +beaten like a tame one. Joseph, drawing near as the story was +coming to a close, overheard the following English:</p> +<p>"Friend, if you dislike heated discussion, do not tell that to +my son."</p> +<p>The nights were strangely beautiful. The immigrants almost +consumed them on deck, the mother and daughters attending in silent +delight while the father and son, facing south, rejoiced in learned +recognition of stars and constellations hitherto known to them only +on globes and charts.</p> +<p>"Yes, my dear son," said the father, in a moment of ecstatic +admiration, "wherever man may go, around this globe--however +uninviting his lateral surroundings may be, the heavens are ever +over his head, and I am glad to find the stars your favorite +objects of study."</p> +<p>So passed the time as the vessel, hour by hour, now slowly +pushed by the wind against the turbid current, now warping along +the fragrant precincts of orange or magnolia groves or fields of +sugar-cane, or moored by night in the deep shade of mighty +willow-jungles, patiently crept toward the end of their pilgrimage; +and in the length of time which would at present be consumed in +making the whole journey from their Northern home to their Southern +goal, accomplished the distance of ninety-eight miles, and found +themselves before the little, hybrid city of "Nouvelle +Orléans." There was the cathedral, and standing beside it, +like Sancho beside Don Quixote, the squat hall of the Cabildo with +the calabozo in the rear. There were the forts, the military +bakery, the hospitals, the plaza, the Almonaster stores, and the +busy rue Toulouse; and, for the rest of the town, a pleasant +confusion of green tree-tops, red and gray roofs, and glimpses of +white or yellow wall, spreading back a few hundred yards behind the +cathedral, and tapering into a single rank of gardened and +belvedered villas, that studded either horn of the river's crescent +with a style of home than which there is probably nothing in the +world more maternally homelike.</p> +<p>"And now," said the "captain," bidding the immigrants good-by, +"keep out of the sun and stay in after dark; you're not +'acclimated,' as they call it, you know, and the city is full of +the fever."</p> +<p>Such were the Frowenfelds. Out of such a mold and into such a +place came the young Américain, whom even Agricola Fusilier, +as we shall see, by and by thought worthy to be made an exception +of, and honored with his recognition.</p> +<p>The family rented a two-story brick house in the rue Bienville, +No. 17, it seems. The third day after, at daybreak, Joseph called +his father to his bedside to say that he had had a chill, and was +suffering such pains in his head and back that he would like to lie +quiet until they passed off. The gentle father replied that it was +undoubtedly best to do so, and preserved an outward calm. He looked +at his son's eyes; their pupils were contracted to tiny beads. He +felt his pulse and his brow; there was no room for doubt; it was +the dreaded scourge--the fever. We say, sometimes, of hearts that +they sink like lead; it does not express the agony.</p> +<p>On the second day, while the unsated fever was running through +every vein and artery, like soldiery through the streets of a +burning city, and far down in the caverns of the body the poison +was ransacking every palpitating corner, the poor immigrant fell +into a moment's sleep. But what of that? The enemy that moment had +mounted to the brain. And then there happened to Joseph an +experience rare to the sufferer by this disease, but not entirely +unknown,--a delirium of mingled pleasures and distresses. He seemed +to awake somewhere between heaven and earth, reclining in a +gorgeous barge, which was draped in curtains of interwoven silver +and silk, cushioned with rich stuffs of every beautiful dye, and +perfumed <i>ad nauseam</i> with orange-leaf tea. The crew was a +single old negress, whose head was wound about with a blue Madras +handkerchief, and who stood at the prow, and by a singular rotary +motion, rowed the barge with a teaspoon. He could not get his head +out of the hot sun; and the barge went continually round and round +with a heavy, throbbing motion, in the regular beat of which +certain spirits of the air--one of whom appeared to be a beautiful +girl and another a small, red-haired man,--confronted each other +with the continual call and response:</p> +<p>"Keep the bedclothes on him and the room shut tight, keep the +bedclothes on him and the room shut tight,"--"An' don' give 'im +some watta, an' don' give 'im some watta."</p> +<p>During what lapse of time--whether moments or days--this lasted, +Joseph could not then know; but at last these things faded away, +and there came to him a positive knowledge that he was on a +sick-bed, where unless something could be done for him he should be +dead in an hour. Then a spoon touched his lips, and a taste of +brandy and water went all through him; and when he fell into sweet +slumber and awoke, and found the teaspoon ready at his lips again, +he had to lift a little the two hands lying before him on the +coverlet to know that they were his--they were so wasted and +yellow. He turned his eyes, and through the white gauze of the +mosquito-bar saw, for an instant, a strange and beautiful young +face; but the lids fell over his eyes, and when he raised them +again the blue-turbaned black nurse was tucking the covering about +his feet.</p> +<p>"Sister!"</p> +<p>No answer.</p> +<p>"Where is my mother?"</p> +<p>The negress shook her head.</p> +<p>He was too weak to speak again, but asked with his eyes so +persistently, and so pleadingly, that by and by she gave him an +audible answer. He tried hard to understand it, but could not, it +being in these words:</p> +<p>"<i>Li pa' oulé vini 'ci--li pas capabe</i>."</p> +<p>Thrice a day, for three days more, came a little man with a +large head surrounded by short, red curls and with small freckles +in a fine skin, and sat down by the bed with a word of good cheer +and the air of a commander. At length they had something like an +extended conversation.</p> +<p>"So you concluded not to die, eh? Yes, I'm the doctor--Doctor +Keene. A young lady? What young lady? No, sir, there has been no +young lady here. You're mistaken. Vagary of your fever. There has +been no one here but this black girl and me. No, my dear fellow, +your father and mother can't see you yet; you don't want them to +catch the fever, do you? Good-bye. Do as your nurse tells you, and +next week you may raise your head and shoulders a little; but if +you don't mind her you'll have a backset, and the devil himself +wouldn't engage to cure you."</p> +<p>The patient had been sitting up a little at a time for several +days, when at length the doctor came to pay a final call, "as a +matter of form;" but, after a few pleasantries, he drew his chair +up gravely, and, in a tender tone--need we say it? He had come to +tell Joseph that his father, mother, sisters, all, were gone on a +second--a longer--voyage, to shores where there could be no +disappointments and no fevers, forever.</p> +<p>"And, Frowenfeld," he said, at the end of their long and painful +talk, "if there is any blame attached to not letting you go with +them, I think I can take part of it; but if you ever want a +friend,--one who is courteous to strangers and ill-mannered only to +those he likes,--you can call for Charlie Keene. I'll drop in to +see you, anyhow, from time to time, till you get stronger. I have +taken a heap of trouble to keep you alive, and if you should +relapse now and give us the slip, it would be a deal of good physic +wasted; so keep in the house."</p> +<p>The polite neighbors who lifted their cocked hats to Joseph, as +he spent a slow convalescence just within his open door, were not +bound to know how or when he might have suffered. There were no +"Howards" or "Y.M.C.A.'s" in those days; no "Peabody Reliefs." Even +had the neighbors chosen to take cognizance of those bereavements, +they were not so unusual as to fix upon him any extraordinary +interests an object of sight; and he was beginning most +distressfully to realize that "great solitude" which the +philosopher attributes to towns, when matters took a decided +turn.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>"AND WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?"</h3> +<br> +<p>We say matters took a turn; or, better, that Frowenfeld's +interest in affairs received a new life. This had its beginning in +Doctor Keene's making himself specially entertaining in an +old-family-history way, with a view to keeping his patient within +doors for a safe period. He had conceived a great liking for +Frowenfeld, and often, of an afternoon, would drift in to challenge +him to a game of chess--a game, by the way, for which neither of +them cared a farthing. The immigrant had learned its moves to +gratify his father, and the doctor--the truth is, the doctor had +never quite learned them; but he was one of those men who cannot +easily consent to acknowledge a mere affection for one, least of +all one of their own sex. It may safely be supposed, then, that the +board often displayed an arrangement of pieces that would have +bewildered Morphy himself.</p> +<p>"By the by, Frowenfeld," he said one evening, after the one +preliminary move with which he invariably opened his game, "you +haven't made the acquaintance of your pretty neighbors next +door."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld knew of no specially pretty neighbors next door on +either side--had noticed no ladies.</p> +<p>"Well, I will take you in to see them some time." The doctor +laughed a little, rubbing his face and his thin, red curls with one +hand, as he laughed.</p> +<p>The convalescent wondered what there could be to laugh at.</p> +<p>"Who are they?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Their name is De Grapion--oh, De Grapion, says I! their name is +Nancanou. They are, without exception, the finest women--the +brightest, the best, and the bravest--that I know in New Orleans." +The doctor resumed a cigar which lay against the edge of the +chess-board, found it extinguished, and proceeded to relight it. +"Best blood of the province; good as the Grandissimes. Blood is a +great thing here, in certain odd ways," he went on. "Very curious +sometimes." He stooped to the floor where his coat had fallen, and +took his handkerchief from a breast-pocket. "At a grand mask ball +about two months ago, where I had a bewilderingly fine time with +those ladies, the proudest old turkey in the theater was an old +fellow whose Indian blood shows in his very behavior, and yet--ha, +ha! I saw that same old man, at a quadroon ball a few years ago, +walk up to the handsomest, best dressed man in the house, a man +with a skin whiter than his own,--a perfect gentleman as to looks +and manners,--and without a word slap him in the face."</p> +<p>"You laugh?" asked Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Laugh? Why shouldn't I? The fellow had no business there. Those +balls are not given to quadroon <i>males</i>, my friend. He was +lucky to get out alive, and that was about all he did.</p> +<p>"They are right!" the doctor persisted, in response to +Frowenfeld's puzzled look. "The people here have got to be +particular. However, that is not what we were talking about. +Quadroon balls are not to be mentioned in connection. Those +ladies--" He addressed himself to the resuscitation of his cigar. +"Singular people in this country," he resumed; but his cigar would +not revive. He was a poor story-teller. To Frowenfeld--as it would +have been to any one, except a Creole or the most thoroughly +Creoleized Américain--his narrative, when it was done, was +little more than a thick mist of strange names, places and events; +yet there shone a light of romance upon it that filled it with +color and populated it with phantoms. Frowenfeld's interest +rose--was allured into this mist--and there was left befogged. As a +physician, Doctor Keene thus accomplished his end,--the mental +diversion of his late patient,--for in the midst of the mist +Frowenfeld encountered and grappled a problem of human life in +Creole type, the possible correlations of whose quantities we shall +presently find him revolving in a studious and sympathetic mind, as +the poet of to-day ponders the</p> +<blockquote>"Flower in the crannied wall."</blockquote> +<p>The quantities in that problem were the ancestral--the +maternal--roots of those two rival and hostile families whose +descendants--some brave, others fair--we find unwittingly thrown +together at the ball, and with whom we are shortly to have the +honor of an unmasked acquaintance.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>FAMILY TREES</h3> +<br> +<p>In the year 1673, and in the royal hovel of a Tchoupitoulas +village not far removed from that "Buffalo's Grazing-ground," now +better known as New Orleans, was born Lufki-Humma, otherwise Red +Clay. The mother of Red Clay was a princess by birth as well as by +marriage. For the father, with that devotion to his people's +interests presumably common to rulers, had ten moons before +ventured northward into the territory of the proud and exclusive +Natchez nation, and had so prevailed with--so outsmoked--their +"Great Sun," as to find himself, as he finally knocked the ashes +from his successful calumet, possessor of a wife whose pedigree +included a long line of royal mothers--fathers being of little +account in Natchez heraldry--extending back beyond the Mexican +origin of her nation, and disappearing only in the effulgence of +her great original, the orb of day himself. As to Red Clay's +paternal ancestry, we must content ourselves with the fact that the +father was not only the diplomate we have already found him, but a +chief of considerable eminence; that is to say, of seven feet +stature.</p> +<p>It scarce need be said that when Lufki-Humma was born, the +mother arose at once from her couch of skins, herself bore the +infant to the neighboring bayou and bathed it--not for singularity, +nor for independence, nor for vainglory, but only as one of the +heart-curdling conventionalities which made up the experience of +that most pitiful of holy things, an Indian mother.</p> +<p>Outside the lodge door sat and continued to sit, as she passed +out, her master or husband. His interest in the trivialities of the +moment may be summed up in this, that he was as fully prepared as +some men are in more civilized times and places to hold his queen +to strict account for the sex of her offspring. Girls for the +Natchez, if they preferred them, but the chief of the Tchoupitoulas +wanted a son. She returned from the water, came near, sank upon her +knees, laid the infant at his feet, and lo! a daughter.</p> +<p>Then she fell forward heavily upon her face. It may have been +muscular exhaustion, it may have been the mere wind of her +hasty-tempered matrimonial master's stone hatchet as it whiffed by +her skull; an inquest now would be too great an irony; but +something blew out her "vile candle."</p> +<p>Among the squaws who came to offer the accustomed funeral +howlings, and seize mementoes from the deceased lady's scant +leavings, was one who had in her own palmetto hut an empty cradle +scarcely cold, and therefore a necessity at her breast, if not a +place in her heart, for the unfortunate Lufki-Humma; and thus it +was that this little waif came to be tossed, a droll hypothesis of +flesh, blood, nerve and brain, into the hands of wild nature with +<i>carte blanche</i> as to the disposal of it. And now, since this +was Agricola's most boasted ancestor--since it appears the darkness +of her cheek had no effect to make him less white, or qualify his +right to smite the fairest and most distant descendant of an +African on the face, and since this proud station and right could +not have sprung from the squalid surroundings of her birth, let us +for a moment contemplate these crude materials.</p> +<p>As for the flesh, it was indeed only some of that "one flesh" of +which we all are made; but the blood--to go into finer +distinctions--the blood, as distinguished from the milk of her +Alibamon foster-mother, was the blood of the royal caste of the +great Toltec mother-race, which, before it yielded its Mexican +splendors to the conquering Aztec, throned the jeweled and +gold-laden Inca in the South, and sent the sacred fire of its +temples into the North by the hand of the Natchez. For it is a +short way of expressing the truth concerning Red Clay's tissues to +say she had the blood of her mother and the nerve of her father, +the nerve of the true North American Indian, and had it in its +finest strength.</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2026.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2026.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2026.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"The daughter of the Natchez sitting in majesty, clothed in +many-colored robes of shining feathers<br> +crossed and recrossed with girdles of serpent-skins and of +wampum".</b></p> +<br> +<p>As to her infantine bones, they were such as needed not to fail +of straightness in the limbs, compactness in the body, smallness in +hands and feet, and exceeding symmetry and comeliness throughout. +Possibly between the two sides of the occipital profile there may +have been an Incaean tendency to inequality; but if by any good +fortune her impressible little cranium should escape the +cradle-straps, the shapeliness that nature loves would soon appear. +And this very fortune befell her. Her father's detestation of an +infant that had not consulted his wishes as to sex prompted a +verbal decree which, among other prohibitions, forbade her skull +the distortions that ambitious and fashionable Indian mothers +delighted to produce upon their offspring.</p> +<p>And as to her brain: what can we say? The casket in which Nature +sealed that brain, and in which Nature's great step-sister, Death, +finally laid it away, has never fallen into the delighted +fingers--and the remarkable fineness of its texture will never +kindle admiration in the triumphant eyes--of those whose scientific +hunger drives them to dig for <i>crania Americana</i>; nor yet will +all their learned excavatings ever draw forth one of those pale +souvenirs of mortality with walls of shapelier contour or more +delicate fineness, or an interior of more admirable spaciousness, +than the fair council-chamber under whose dome the mind of +Lufki-Humma used, about two centuries ago, to sit in frequent +conclave with high thoughts.</p> +<p>"I have these facts," it was Agricola Fusilier's habit to say, +"by family tradition; but you know, sir, h-tradition is much more +authentic than history!"</p> +<p>Listening Crane, the tribal medicine-man, one day stepped softly +into the lodge of the giant chief, sat down opposite him on a mat +of plaited rushes, accepted a lighted calumet, and, after the +silence of a decent hour, broken at length by the warrior's +intimation that "the ear of Raging Buffalo listened for the voice +of his brother," said, in effect, that if that ear would turn +toward the village play-ground, it would catch a murmur like the +pleasing sound of bees among the blossoms of the catalpa, albeit +the catalpa was now dropping her leaves, for it was the moon of +turkeys. No, it was the repressed laughter of squaws, wallowing +with their young ones about the village pole, wondering at the +Natchez-Tchoupitoulas child, whose eye was the eye of the panther, +and whose words were the words of an aged chief in council.</p> +<p>There was more added; we record only enough to indicate the +direction of Listening Crane's aim. The eye of Raging Buffalo was +opened to see a vision: the daughter of the Natchez sitting in +majesty, clothed in many-colored robes of shining feathers crossed +and recrossed with girdles of serpent-skins and of wampum, her feet +in quilled and painted moccasins, her head under a glory of plumes, +the carpet of buffalo-robes about her throne covered with the +trophies of conquest, and the atmosphere of her lodge blue with the +smoke of embassadors' calumets; and this extravagant dream the +capricious chief at once resolved should eventually become reality. +"Let her be taken to the village temple," he said to his +prime-minister, "and be fed by warriors on the flesh of +wolves."</p> +<p>The Listening Crane was a patient man; he was the "man that +waits" of the old French proverb; all things came to him. He had +waited for an opportunity to change his brother's mind, and it had +come. Again, he waited for him to die; and, like Methuselah and +others, he died. He had heard of a race more powerful than the +Natchez--a white race; he waited for them; and when the year 1682 +saw a humble "black gown" dragging and splashing his way, with La +Salle and Tonti, through the swamps of Louisiana, holding forth the +crucifix and backed by French carbines and Mohican tomahawks, among +the marvels of that wilderness was found this: a child of nine +sitting, and--with some unostentatious aid from her +medicine-man--ruling; queen of her tribe and high-priestess of +their temple. Fortified by the acumen and self-collected ambition +of Listening Crane, confirmed in her regal title by the white man's +Manitou through the medium of the "black gown," and inheriting her +father's fear-compelling frown, she ruled with majesty and wisdom, +sometimes a decreer of bloody justice, sometimes an Amazonian +counselor of warriors, and at all times--year after year, until she +had reached the perfect womanhood of twenty-six--a virgin +queen.</p> +<p>On the 11th of March, 1699, two overbold young Frenchmen of M. +D'Iberville's little exploring party tossed guns on shoulder, and +ventured away from their canoes on the bank of the Mississippi into +the wilderness. Two men they were whom an explorer would have been +justified in hoarding up, rather than in letting out at such risks; +a pair to lean on, noble and strong. They hunted, killed nothing, +were overtaken by rain, then by night, hunger, alarm, despair.</p> +<p>And when they had lain down to die, and had only succeeded in +falling asleep, the Diana of the Tchoupitoulas, ranging the +magnolia groves with bow and quiver, came upon them in all the +poetry of their hope-forsaken strength and beauty, and fell sick of +love. We say not whether with Zephyr Grandissime or Epaminondas +Fusilier; that, for the time being, was her secret.</p> +<p>The two captives were made guests. Listening Crane rejoiced in +them as representatives of the great gift-making race, and indulged +himself in a dream of pipe-smoking, orations, treaties, presents +and alliances, finding its climax in the marriage of his virgin +queen to the king of France, and unvaryingly tending to the swiftly +increasing aggrandizement of Listening Crane. They sat down to +bear's meat, sagamite and beans. The queen sat down with them, +clothed in her entire wardrobe: vest of swan's skin, with facings +of purple and green from the neck of the mallard; petticoat of +plaited hair, with embroideries of quills; leggings of fawn-skin; +garters of wampum; black and green serpent-skin moccasins, that +rested on pelts of tiger-cat and buffalo; armlets of gars' scales, +necklaces of bears' claws and alligators' teeth, plaited tresses, +plumes of raven and flamingo, wing of the pink curlew, and odors of +bay and sassafras. Young men danced before them, blowing upon +reeds, hooting, yelling, rattling beans in gourds and touching +hands and feet. One day was like another, and the nights were made +brilliant with flambeau dances and processions.</p> +<p>Some days later M. D'Iberville's canoe fleet, returning down the +river, found and took from the shore the two men, whom they had +given up for dead, and with them, by her own request, the +abdicating queen, who left behind her a crowd of weeping and +howling squaws and warriors. Three canoes that put off in their +wake, at a word from her, turned back; but one old man leaped into +the water, swam after them a little way, and then unexpectedly +sank. It was that cautious wader but inexperienced swimmer, the +Listening Crane.</p> +<p>When the expedition reached Biloxi, there were two suitors for +the hand of Agricola's great ancestress. Neither of them was Zephyr +Grandissime. (Ah! the strong heads of those Grandissimes.)</p> +<p>They threw dice for her. Demosthenes De Grapion--he who, +tradition says, first hoisted the flag of France over the little +fort--seemed to think he ought to have a chance, and being accorded +it, cast an astonishingly high number; but Epaminondas cast a +number higher by one (which Demosthenes never could quite +understand), and got a wife who had loved him from first sight.</p> +<p>Thus, while the pilgrim fathers of the Mississippi Delta with +Gallic recklessness were taking wives and moot-wives from the ill +specimens of three races, arose, with the church's benediction, the +royal house of the Fusiliers in Louisiana. But the true, main +Grandissime stock, on which the Fusiliers did early, ever, and yet +do, love to marry, has kept itself lily-white ever since France has +loved lilies--as to marriage, that is; as to less responsible +entanglements, why, of course--</p> +<p>After a little, the disappointed Demosthenes, with due +ecclesiastical sanction, also took a most excellent wife, from the +first cargo of House of Correction girls. Her biography, too, is as +short as Methuselah's, or shorter; she died. Zephyr Grandissime +married, still later, a lady of rank, a widow without children, +sent from France to Biloxi under a <i>lettre de cachet</i>. +Demosthenes De Grapion, himself an only son, left but one son, who +also left but one. Yet they were prone to early marriages.</p> +<p>So also were the Grandissimes, or, as the name is signed in all +the old notarial papers, the Brahmin Mandarin de Grandissimes. That +was one thing that kept their many-stranded family line so free +from knots and kinks. Once the leisurely Zephyr gave them a start, +generation followed generation with a rapidity that kept the +competing De Grapions incessantly exasperated, and new-made +Grandissime fathers continually throwing themselves into the fond +arms and upon the proud necks of congratulatory grandsires. Verily +it seemed as though their family tree was a fig-tree; you could not +look for blossoms on it, but there, instead, was the fruit full of +seed. And with all their speed they were for the most part fine of +stature, strong of limb and fair of face. The old nobility of their +stock, including particularly the unnamed blood of her of the +<i>lettre de cachet</i>, showed forth in a gracefulness of +carriage, that almost identified a De Grandissime wherever you saw +him, and in a transparency of flesh and classic beauty of feature, +that made their daughters extra-marriageable in a land and day +which was bearing a wide reproach for a male celibacy not of the +pious sort.</p> +<p>In a flock of Grandissimes might always be seen a Fusilier or +two; fierce-eyed, strong-beaked, dark, heavy-taloned birds, who, if +they could not sing, were of rich plumage, and could talk, and +bite, and strike, and keep up a ruffled crest and a self-exalting +bad humor. They early learned one favorite cry, with which they +greeted all strangers, crying the louder the more the endeavor was +made to appease them: "Invaders! Invaders!"</p> +<p>There was a real pathos in the contrast offered to this family +line by that other which sprang up, as slenderly as a stalk of wild +oats, from the loins of Demosthenes De Grapion. A lone son +following a lone son, and he another--it was sad to contemplate, in +that colonial beginning of days, three generations of good, Gallic +blood tripping jocundly along in attenuated Indian file. It made it +no less pathetic to see that they were brilliant, gallant, +much-loved, early epauletted fellows, who did not let twenty-one +catch them without wives sealed with the authentic wedding kiss, +nor allow twenty-two to find them without an heir. But they had a +sad aptness for dying young. It was altogether supposable that they +would have spread out broadly in the land; but they were such +inveterate duelists, such brave Indian-fighters, such adventurous +swamp-rangers, and such lively free-livers, that, however +numerously their half-kin may have been scattered about in an +unacknowledged way, the avowed name of De Grapion had become less +and less frequent in lists where leading citizens subscribed their +signatures, and was not to be seen in the list of managers of the +late ball.</p> +<p>It is not at all certain that so hot a blood would not have +boiled away entirely before the night of the <i>bal +masqué</i>, but for an event which led to the union of that +blood with a stream equally clear and ruddy, but of a milder +vintage. This event fell out some fifty-two years after that cast +of the dice which made the princess Lufki-Humma the mother of all +the Fusiliers and of none of the De Grapions. Clotilde, the +Casket-Girl, the little maid who would not marry, was one of an +heroic sort, worth--the De Grapions maintained--whole swampfuls of +Indian queens. And yet the portrait of this great ancestress, which +served as a pattern to one who, at the ball, personated the +long-deceased heroine <i>en masque</i>, is hopelessly lost in some +garret. Those Creoles have such a shocking way of filing their +family relics and records in rat-holes.</p> +<p>One fact alone remains to be stated: that the De Grapions, try +to spurn it as they would, never could quite suppress a hard +feeling in the face of the record, that from the two young men, +who, when lost in the horrors of Louisiana's swamps, had been +esteemed as good as dead, and particularly from him who married at +his leisure,--from Zephyr de Grandissime,--sprang there so many as +the sands of the Mississippi innumerable.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>A MAIDEN WHO WILL NOT MARRY</h3> +<br> +<p>Midway between the times of Lufki-Humma and those of her proud +descendant, Agricola Fusilier, fifty-two years lying on either +side, were the days of Pierre Rigaut, the magnificent, the "Grand +Marquis," the Governor, De Vaudreuil. He was the Solomon of +Louisiana. For splendor, however, not for wisdom. Those were the +gala days of license, extravagance and pomp. He made paper money to +be as the leaves of the forest for multitude; it was nothing +accounted of in the days of the Grand Marquis. For Louis Quinze was +king.</p> +<p>Clotilde, orphan of a murdered Huguenot, was one of sixty, the +last royal allotment to Louisiana, of imported wives. The king's +agents had inveigled her away from France with fair stories: "They +will give you a quiet home with some lady of the colony. Have to +marry?--not unless it pleases you. The king himself pays your +passage and gives you a casket of clothes. Think of that these +times, fillette; and passage free, withal, to--the garden of Eden, +as you may call it--what more, say you, can a poor girl want? +Without doubt, too, like a model colonist, you will accept a good +husband and have a great many beautiful children, who will say with +pride, 'Me, I am no House-of-Correction-girl stock; my mother'--or +'grandmother,' as the case may be--'was a <i>fille à la +cassette!</i>'"</p> +<p>The sixty were landed in New Orleans and given into the care of +the Ursuline nuns; and, before many days had elapsed, fifty-nine +soldiers of the king were well wived and ready to settle upon their +riparian land-grants. The residuum in the nuns' hands was one +stiff-necked little heretic, named, in part, Clotilde. They bore +with her for sixty days, and then complained to the Grand Marquis. +But the Grand Marquis, with all his pomp, was gracious and +kind-hearted, and loved his ease almost as much as his marchioness +loved money. He bade them try her another month. They did so, and +then returned with her; she would neither marry nor pray to +Mary.</p> +<p>Here is the way they talked in New Orleans in those days. If you +care to understand why Louisiana has grown up so out of joint, note +the tone of those who governed her in the middle of the last +century:</p> +<p>"What, my child," the Grand Marquis said, "you a <i>fille +à la cassette?</i> France, for shame! Come here by my side. +Will you take a little advice from an old soldier? It is in one +word--submit. Whatever is inevitable, submit to it. If you want to +live easy and sleep easy, do as other people do--submit. Consider +submission in the present case; how easy, how comfortable, and how +little it amounts to! A little hearing of mass, a little telling of +beads, a little crossing of one's self--what is that? One need not +believe in them. Don't shake your head. Take my example; look at +me; all these things go in at this ear and out at this. Do king or +clergy trouble me? Not at all. For how does the king in these +matters of religion? I shall not even tell you, he is such a bad +boy. Do you not know that all the <i>noblesse</i>, and all the +<i>savants</i>, and especially all the archbishops and +cardinals,--all, in a word, but such silly little chicks as +yourself,--have found out that this religious business is a joke? +Actually a joke, every whit; except, to be sure, this heresy phase; +that is a joke they cannot take. Now, I wish you well, pretty +child; so if you--eh?--truly, my pet, I fear we shall have to call +you unreasonable. Stop; they can spare me here a moment; I will +take you to the Marquise: she is in the next room.... Behold," said +he, as he entered the presence of his marchioness, "the little maid +who will not marry!"</p> +<p>The Marquise was as cold and hard-hearted as the Marquis was +loose and kind; but we need not recount the slow tortures of the +<i>fille à la cassette's</i> second verbal temptation. The +colony had to have soldiers, she was given to understand, and the +soldiers must have wives. "Why, I am a soldier's wife, myself!" +said the gorgeously attired lady, laying her hand upon the +governor-general's epaulet. She explained, further, that he was +rather softhearted, while she was a business woman; also that the +royal commissary's rolls did not comprehend such a thing as a +spinster, and--incidentally--that living by principle was rather +out of fashion in the province just then.</p> +<p>After she had offered much torment of this sort, a definite +notion seemed to take her; she turned her lord by a touch of the +elbow, and exchanged two or three business-like whispers with him +at a window overlooking the Levee.</p> +<p>"Fillette," she said, returning, "you are going to live on the +sea-coast. I am sending an aged lady there to gather the wax of the +wild myrtle. This good soldier of mine buys it for our king at +twelve livres the pound. Do you not know that women can make money? +The place is not safe; but there are no safe places in Louisiana. +There are no nuns to trouble you there; only a few Indians and +soldiers. You and Madame will live together, quite to yourselves, +and can pray as you like."</p> +<p>"And not marry a soldier," said the Grand Marquis.</p> +<p>"No," said the lady, "not if you can gather enough +myrtle-berries to afford me a profit and you a living."</p> +<p>It was some thirty leagues or more eastward to the country of +the Biloxis, a beautiful land of low, evergreen hills looking out +across the pine-covered sand-keys of Mississippi Sound to the Gulf +of Mexico. The northern shore of Biloxi Bay was rich in +candleberry-myrtle. In Clotilde's day, though Biloxi was no longer +the capital of the Mississippi Valley, the fort which D'Iberville +had built in 1699, and the first timber of which is said to have +been lifted by Zephyr Grandissime at one end and Epaminondas +Fusilier at the other, was still there, making brave against the +possible advent of corsairs, with a few old culverines and one +wooden mortar.</p> +<p>And did the orphan, in despite of Indians and soldiers and +wilderness, settle down here and make a moderate fortune? Alas, she +never gathered a berry! When she--with the aged lady, her appointed +companion in exile, the young commandant of the fort, in whose +pinnace they had come, and two or three French sailors and +Canadians--stepped out upon the white sand of Biloxi beach, she was +bound with invisible fetters hand and foot, by that Olympian rogue +of a boy, who likes no better prey than a little maiden who thinks +she will never marry.</p> +<p>The officer's name was De Grapion--Georges De Grapion. The +Marquis gave him a choice grant of land on that part of the +Mississippi river "coast" known as the Cannes Brulées.</p> +<p>"Of course you know where Cannes Brulées is, don't you?" +asked Doctor Keene of Joseph Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Joseph, with a twinge of reminiscence that recalled +the study of Louisiana on paper with his father and sisters.</p> +<p>There Georges De Grapion settled, with the laudable +determination to make a fresh start against the mortifyingly +numerous Grandissimes.</p> +<p>"My father's policy was every way bad," he said to his spouse; +"it is useless, and probably wrong, this trying to thin them out by +duels; we will try another plan. Thank you," he added, as she +handed his coat back to him, with the shoulder-straps cut off. In +pursuance of the new plan, Madame De Grapion,--the precious little +heroine!--before the myrtles offered another crop of berries, bore +him a boy not much smaller (saith tradition) than herself.</p> +<p>Only one thing qualified the father's elation. On that very day +Numa Grandissime (Brahmin-Mandarin de Grandissime), a mere child, +received from Governor de Vaudreuil a cadetship.</p> +<p>"Never mind, Messieurs Grandissime, go on with your tricks; we +shall see! Ha! we shall see!"</p> +<p>"We shall see what?" asked a remote relative of that family. +"Will Monsieur be so good as to explain himself?"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Bang! bang!</p> +<p>Alas, Madame De Grapion!</p> +<p>It may be recorded that no affair of honor in Louisiana ever +left a braver little widow. When Joseph and his doctor pretended to +play chess together, but little more than a half-century had +elapsed since the <i>fille à la cassette</i> stood before +the Grand Marquis and refused to wed. Yet she had been long gone +into the skies, leaving a worthy example behind her in twenty years +of beautiful widowhood. Her son, the heir and resident of the +plantation at Cannes Brulées, at the age of--they do +say--eighteen, had married a blithe and pretty lady of +Franco-Spanish extraction, and, after a fair length of life divided +between campaigning under the brilliant young Galvez and raising +unremunerative indigo crops, had lately lain down to sleep, leaving +only two descendants--females--how shall we describe them?--a Monk +and a <i>Fille à la Cassette</i>. It was very hard to have +to go leaving his family name snuffed out and certain +Grandissime-ward grievances burning.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"There are so many Grandissimes," said the weary-eyed +Frowenfeld, "I cannot distinguish between--I can scarcely count +them."</p> +<p>"Well, now," said the doctor, "let me tell you, don't try. They +can't do it themselves. Take them in the mass--as you would +shrimps."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>LOST OPPORTUNITIES</h3> +<br> +<p>The little doctor tipped his chair back against the wall, drew +up his knees, and laughed whimperingly in his freckled hands.</p> +<p>"I had to do some prodigious lying at that ball. I didn't dare +let the De Grapion ladies know they were in company with a +Grandissime."</p> +<p>"I thought you said their name was Nancanou."</p> +<p>"Well, certainly--De Grapion-Nancanou. You see, that is one of +their charms: one is a widow, the other is her daughter, and both +as young and beautiful as Hebe. Ask Honoré Grandissime; he +has seen the little widow; but then he don't know who she is. He +will not ask me, and I will not tell him. Oh, yes; it is about +eighteen years now since old De Grapion--elegant, high-stepping old +fellow--married her, then only sixteen years of age, to young +Nancanou, an indigo-planter on the Fausse Rivière--the old +bend, you know, behind Pointe Coupée. The young couple went +there to live. I have been told they had one of the prettiest +places in Louisiana. He was a man of cultivated tastes, educated in +Paris, spoke English, was handsome (convivial, of course), and of +perfectly pure blood. But there was one thing old De Grapion +overlooked: he and his son-in-law were the last of their names. In +Louisiana a man needs kinsfolk. He ought to have married his +daughter into a strong house. They say that Numa Grandissime +(Honoré's father) and he had patched up a peace between the +two families that included even old Agricola, and that he could +have married her to a Grandissime. However, he is supposed to have +known what he was about.</p> +<p>"A matter of business called young Nancanou to New Orleans. He +had no friends here; he was a Creole, but what part of his life had +not been spent on his plantation he had passed in Europe. He could +not leave his young girl of a wife alone in that exiled sort of +plantation life, so he brought her and the child (a girl) down with +him as far as to her father's place, left them there, and came on +to the city alone.</p> +<p>"Now, what does the old man do but give him a letter of +introduction to old Agricole Fusilier! (His name is Agricola, but +we shorten it to Agricole.) It seems that old De Grapion and +Agricole had had the indiscretion to scrape up a mutually +complimentary correspondence. And to Agricole the young man +went.</p> +<p>"They became intimate at once, drank together, danced with the +quadroons together, and got into as much mischief in three days as +I ever did in a fortnight. So affairs went on until by and by they +were gambling together. One night they were at the Piety Club, +playing hard, and the planter lost his last quarti. He became +desperate, and did a thing I have known more than one planter to +do: wrote his pledge for every arpent of his land and every slave +on it, and staked that. Agricole refused to play. 'You shall play,' +said Nancanou, and when the game was ended he said: 'Monsieur +Agricola Fusilier, you cheated.' You see? Just as I have frequently +been tempted to remark to my friend, Mr. Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"But, Frowenfeld, you must know, withal the Creoles are such +gamblers, they never cheat; they play absolutely fair. So Agricole +had to challenge the planter. He could not be blamed for that; +there was no choice--oh, now, Frowenfeld, keep quiet! I tell you +there was no choice. And the fellow was no coward. He sent Agricole +a clear title to the real estate and slaves,--lacking only the +wife's signature,--accepted the challenge and fell dead at the +first fire.</p> +<p>"Stop, now, and let me finish. Agricole sat down and wrote to +the widow that he did not wish to deprive her of her home, and that +if she would state in writing her belief that the stakes had been +won fairly, he would give back the whole estate, slaves and all; +but that if she would not, he should feel compelled to retain it in +vindication of his honor. Now wasn't that drawing a fine point?" +The doctor laughed according to his habit, with his face down in +his hands. "You see, he wanted to stand before all creation--the +Creator did not make so much difference--in the most exquisitely +proper light; so he puts the laws of humanity under his feet, and +anoints himself from head to foot with Creole punctilio."</p> +<p>"Did she sign the paper?" asked Joseph.</p> +<p>"She? Wait till you know her! No, indeed; she had the true +scorn. She and her father sent down another and a better title. +Creole-like, they managed to bestir themselves to that extent and +there they stopped.</p> +<p>"And the airs with which they did it! They kept all their rage +to themselves, and sent the polite word, that they were not +acquainted with the merits of the case, that they were not disposed +to make the long and arduous trip to the city and back, and that if +M. Fusilier de Grandissime thought he could find any pleasure or +profit in owning the place, he was welcome; that the widow of +<i>his late friend</i> was not disposed to live on it, but would +remain with her father at the paternal home at Cannes +Brulées.</p> +<p>"Did you ever hear of a more perfect specimen of Creole pride? +That is the way with all of them. Show me any Creole, or any number +of Creoles, in any sort of contest, and right down at the +foundation of it all, I will find you this same preposterous, +apathetic, fantastic, suicidal pride. It is as lethargic and +ferocious as an alligator. That is why the Creole almost always is +(or thinks he is) on the defensive. See these De Grapions' haughty +good manners to old Agricole; yet there wasn't a Grandissime in +Louisiana who could have set foot on the De Grapion lands but at +the risk of his life.</p> +<p>"But I will finish the story: and here is the really sad part. +Not many months ago old De Grapion--'old,' said I; they don't grow +old; I call him old--a few months ago he died. He must have left +everything smothered in debt; for, like his race, he had stuck to +indigo because his father planted it, and it is a crop that has +lost money steadily for years and years. His daughter and +granddaughter were left like babes in the wood; and, to crown their +disasters, have now made the grave mistake of coming to the city, +where they find they haven't a friend--not one, sir! They called me +in to prescribe for a trivial indisposition, shortly after their +arrival; and I tell you, Frowenfeld, it made me shiver to see two +such beautiful women in such a town as this without a male +protector, and even"--the doctor lowered his voice--"without +adequate support. The mother says they are perfectly comfortable; +tells the old couple so who took them to the ball, and whose little +girl is their embroidery scholar; but you cannot believe a Creole +on that subject, and I don't believe her. Would you like to make +their acquaintance?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld hesitated, disliking to say no to his friend, and +then shook his head.</p> +<p>"After a while--at least not now, sir, if you please."</p> +<p>The doctor made a gesture of disappointment.</p> +<p>"Um-hum," he said grumly--"the only man in New Orleans I would +honor with an invitation!--but all right; I'll go alone."</p> +<p>He laughed a little at himself, and left Frowenfeld, if ever he +should desire it, to make the acquaintance of his pretty neighbors +as best he could.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>WAS IT HONORÉ GRANDISSIME?</h3> +<br> +<p>A Creole gentleman, on horseback one morning with some practical +object in view,--drainage, possibly,--had got what he sought,--the +evidence of his own eyes on certain points,--and now moved quietly +across some old fields toward the town, where more absorbing +interests awaited him in the Rue Toulouse; for this Creole +gentleman was a merchant, and because he would presently find +himself among the appointments and restraints of the counting-room, +he heartily gave himself up, for the moment, to the surrounding +influences of nature.</p> +<p>It was late in November; but the air was mild and the grass and +foliage green and dewy. Wild flowers bloomed plentifully and in all +directions; the bushes were hung, and often covered, with vines of +sprightly green, sprinkled thickly with smart-looking little +worthless berries, whose sparkling complacency the combined +contempt of man, beast and bird could not dim. The call of the +field-lark came continually out of the grass, where now and then +could be seen his yellow breast; the orchard oriole was executing +his fantasias in every tree; a covey of partridges ran across the +path close under the horse's feet, and stopped to look back almost +within reach of the riding-whip; clouds of starlings, in their odd, +irresolute way, rose from the high bulrushes and settled again, +without discernible cause; little wandering companies of sparrows +undulated from hedge to hedge; a great rabbit-hawk sat alone in the +top of a lofty pecan-tree; that petted rowdy, the mocking-bird, +dropped down into the path to offer fight to the horse, and, +failing in that, flew up again and drove a crow into ignominious +retirement beyond the plain; from a place of flags and reeds a +white crane shot upward, turned, and then, with the slow and +stately beat peculiar to her wing, sped away until, against the +tallest cypress of the distant forest, she became a tiny white +speck on its black, and suddenly disappeared, like one flake of +snow.</p> +<p>The scene was altogether such as to fill any hearty soul with +impulses of genial friendliness and gentle candor; such a scene as +will sometimes prepare a man of the world, upon the least direct +incentive, to throw open the windows of his private thought with a +freedom which the atmosphere of no counting-room or drawing-room +tends to induce.</p> +<p>The young merchant--he was young--felt this. Moreover, the +matter of business which had brought him out had responded to his +inquiring eye with a somewhat golden radiance; and your true man of +business--he who has reached that elevated pitch of serene, +good-natured reserve which is of the high art of his calling--is +never so generous with his pennyworths of thought as when newly in +possession of some little secret worth many pounds.</p> +<p>By and by the behavior of the horse indicated the near presence +of a stranger; and the next moment the rider drew rein under an +immense live-oak where there was a bit of paling about some graves, +and raised his hat.</p> +<p>"Good-morning, sir." But for the silent r's, his pronunciation +was exact, yet evidently an acquired one. While he spoke his +salutation in English, he was thinking in French: "Without doubt, +this rather oversized, bareheaded, interrupted-looking convalescent +who stands before me, wondering how I should know in what language +to address him, is Joseph Frowenfeld, of whom Doctor Keene has had +so much to say to me. A good face--unsophisticated, but +intelligent, mettlesome and honest. He will make his mark; it will +probably be a white one; I will subscribe to the adventure.</p> +<p>"You will excuse me, sir?" he asked after a pause, dismounting, +and noticing, as he did so, that Frowenfeld's knees showed recent +contact with the turf; "I have, myself, some interest in two of +these graves, sir, as I suppose--you will pardon my freedom--you +have in the other four."</p> +<p>He approached the old but newly whitened paling, which encircled +the tree's trunk as well as the six graves about it. There was in +his face and manner a sort of impersonal human kindness, well +calculated to engage a diffident and sensitive stranger, standing +in dread of gratuitous benevolence or pity.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," said the convalescent, and ceased; but the other +leaned against the palings in an attitude of attention, and he felt +induced to add: "I have buried here my father, mother, and two +sisters,"--he had expected to continue in an unemotional tone; but +a deep respiration usurped the place of speech. He stooped quickly +to pick up his hat, and, as he rose again and looked into his +listener's face, the respectful, unobtrusive sympathy there +expressed went directly to his heart.</p> +<p>"Victims of the fever," said the Creole with great gravity. "How +did that happen?"</p> +<p>As Frowenfeld, after a moment's hesitation, began to speak, the +stranger let go the bridle of his horse and sat down upon the turf. +Joseph appreciated the courtesy and sat down, too; and thus the ice +was broken.</p> +<p>The immigrant told his story; he was young--often younger than +his years--and his listener several years his senior; but the +Creole, true to his blood, was able at any time to make himself as +young as need be, and possessed the rare magic of drawing one's +confidence without seeming to do more than merely pay attention. It +followed that the story was told in full detail, including grateful +acknowledgment of the goodness of an unknown friend, who had +granted this burial-place on condition that he should not be sought +out for the purpose of thanking him.</p> +<p>So a considerable time passed by, in which acquaintance grew +with delightful rapidity.</p> +<p>"What will you do now?" asked the stranger, when a short silence +had followed the conclusion of the story.</p> +<p>"I hardly know. I am taken somewhat by surprise. I have not +chosen a definite course in life--as yet. I have been a general +student, but have not prepared myself for any profession; I am not +sure what I shall be."</p> +<p>A certain energy in the immigrant's face half redeemed this +childlike speech. Yet the Creole's lips, as he opened them to +reply, betrayed amusement; so he hastened to say:</p> +<p>"I appreciate your position, Mr. Frowenfeld,--excuse me, I +believe you said that was your father's name. And yet,"--the shadow +of an amused smile lurked another instant about a corner of his +mouth,--"if you would understand me kindly I would say, take +care--"</p> +<p>What little blood the convalescent had rushed violently to his +face, and the Creole added:</p> +<p>"I do not insinuate you would willingly be idle. I think I know +what you want. You want to make up your mind <i>now</i> what you +will <i>do</i>, and at your leisure what you will <i>be</i>; eh? To +be, it seems to me," he said in summing up,--"that to be is not so +necessary as to do, eh? or am I wrong?"</p> +<p>"No, sir," replied Joseph, still red, "I was feeling that just +now. I will do the first thing that offers; I can dig."</p> +<p>The Creole shrugged and pouted.</p> +<p>"And be called a <i>dos brile</i>--a 'burnt-back.'"</p> +<p>"But"--began the immigrant, with overmuch warmth.</p> +<p>The other interrupted him, shaking his head slowly and smiling +as he spoke.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, it is of no use to talk; you may hold in +contempt the Creole scorn of toil--just as I do, myself, but in +theory, my-de'-seh, not too much in practice. You cannot afford to +be <i>entirely</i> different from the community in which you live; +is that not so?"</p> +<p>"A friend of mine," said Frowenfeld, "has told me I must +'compromise.'"</p> +<p>"You must get acclimated," responded the Creole; "not in body +only, that you have done; but in mind--in taste--in +conversation--and in convictions too, yes, ha, ha! They all do +it--all who come. They hold out a little while--a very little; then +they open their stores on Sunday, they import cargoes of Africans, +they bribe the officials, they smuggle goods, they have colored +housekeepers. My-de'-seh, the water must expect to take the shape +of the bucket; eh?"</p> +<p>"One need not be water!" said the immigrant.</p> +<p>"Ah!" said the Creole, with another amiable shrug, and a wave of +his hand; "certainly you do not suppose that is my advice--that +those things have my approval."</p> +<p>Must we repeat already that Frowenfeld was abnormally young? +"Why have they not your condemnation?" cried he with an earnestness +that made the Creole's horse drop the grass from his teeth and +wheel half around.</p> +<p>The answer came slowly and gently.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, my habit is to buy cheap and sell at a profit. +My condemnation? My-de'-seh, there is no sa-a-ale for it! it spoils +the sale of other goods my-de'-seh. It is not to condemn that you +want; you want to suc-<i>ceed</i>. Ha, ha, ha! you see I am a +merchant, eh? My-de'-seh, can <i>you</i> afford not to +succeed?"</p> +<p>The speaker had grown very much in earnest in the course of +these few words, and as he asked the closing question, arose, +arranged his horse's bridle and, with his elbow in the saddle, +leaned his handsome head on his equally beautiful hand. His whole +appearance was a dazzling contradiction of the notion that a Creole +is a person of mixed blood.</p> +<p>"I think I can!" replied the convalescent, with much spirit, +rising with more haste than was good, and staggering a moment.</p> +<p>The horseman laughed outright.</p> +<p>"Your principle is the best, I cannot dispute that; but whether +you can act it out--reformers do not make money, you know." He +examined his saddle-girth and began to tighten it. "One can +condemn--too cautiously--by a kind of--elevated cowardice (I have +that fault); but one can also condemn too rashly; I remember when I +did so. One of the occupants of those two graves you see yonder +side by side--I think might have lived longer if I had not spoken +so rashly for his rights. Did you ever hear of Bras-Coupé, +Mr. Frowenfeld?"</p> +<p>"I have heard only the name."</p> +<p>"Ah! Mr. Frowenfeld, <i>there</i> was a bold man's chance to +denounce wrong and oppression! Why, that negro's death changed the +whole channel of my convictions."</p> +<p>The speaker had turned and thrown up his arm with frowning +earnestness; he dropped it and smiled at himself.</p> +<p>"Do not mistake me for one of your new-fashioned Philadelphia +'<i>negrophiles</i>'; I am a merchant, my-de'-seh, a good subject +of His Catholic Majesty, a Creole of the Creoles, and so forth, and +so forth. Come!"</p> +<p>He slapped the saddle.</p> +<p>To have seen and heard them a little later as they moved toward +the city, the Creole walking before the horse, and Frowenfeld +sitting in the saddle, you might have supposed them old +acquaintances. Yet the immigrant was wondering who his companion +might be. He had not introduced himself--seemed to think that even +an immigrant might know his name without asking. Was it +Honoré Grandissime? Joseph was tempted to guess so; but the +initials inscribed on the silver-mounted pommel of the fine old +Spanish saddle did not bear out that conjecture.</p> +<p>The stranger talked freely. The sun's rays seemed to set all the +sweetness in him a-working, and his pleasant worldly wisdom foamed +up and out like fermenting honey.</p> +<p>By and by the way led through a broad, grassy lane where the +path turned alternately to right and left among some wild acacias. +The Creole waved his hand toward one of them and said:</p> +<p>"Now, Mr. Frowenfeld, you see? one man walks where he sees +another's track; that is what makes a path; but you want a man, +instead of passing around this prickly bush, to lay hold of it with +his naked hands and pull it up by the roots."</p> +<p>"But a man armed with the truth is far from being barehanded," +replied the convalescent, and they went on, more and more +interested at every step,--one in this very raw imported material +for an excellent man, the other in so striking an exponent of a +unique land and people.</p> +<p>They came at length to the crossing of two streets, and the +Creole, pausing in his speech, laid his hand upon the bridle.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld dismounted.</p> +<p>"Do we part here?" asked the Creole. "Well, Mr. Frowenfeld, I +hope to meet you soon again."</p> +<p>"Indeed, I thank you, sir," said Joseph, "and I hope we shall, +although--"</p> +<p>The Creole paused with a foot in the stirrup and interrupted him +with a playful gesture; then as the horse stirred, he mounted and +drew in the rein.</p> +<p>"I know; you want to say you cannot accept my philosophy and I +cannot appreciate yours; but I appreciate it more than you think, +my-de'-seh."</p> +<p>The convalescent's smile showed much fatigue.</p> +<p>The Creole extended his hand; the immigrant seized it, wished to +ask his name, but did not; and the next moment he was gone.</p> +<p>The convalescent walked meditatively toward his quarters, with a +faint feeling of having been found asleep on duty and awakened by a +passing stranger. It was an unpleasant feeling, and he caught +himself more than once shaking his head. He stopped, at length, and +looked back; but the Creole was long since out of sight. The +mortified self-accuser little knew how very similar a feeling that +vanished person was carrying away with him. He turned and resumed +his walk, wondering who Monsieur might be, and a little impatient +with himself that he had not asked.</p> +<p>"It is Honoré Grandissime; it must be he!" he said.</p> +<p>Yet see how soon he felt obliged to change his mind.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>SIGNED--HONORÉ GRANDISSIME</h3> +<br> +<p>On the afternoon of the same day, having decided what he would +"do," he started out in search of new quarters. He found nothing +then, but next morning came upon a small, single-story building in +the rue Royale,--corner of Conti,--which he thought would suit his +plans. There were a door and show-window in the rue Royale, two +doors in the intersecting street, and a small apartment in the rear +which would answer for sleeping, eating, and studying purposes, and +which connected with the front apartment by a door in the left-hand +corner. This connection he would partially conceal by a +prescription-desk. A counter would run lengthwise toward the rue +Royale, along the wall opposite the side-doors. Such was the spot +that soon became known as "Frowenfeld's Corner."</p> +<p>The notice "À Louer" directed him to inquire at +numero--rue Condé. Here he was ushered through the wicket of +a <i>porte cochère</i> into a broad, paved corridor, and up +a stair into a large, cool room, and into the presence of a man who +seemed, in some respects, the most remarkable figure he had yet +seen in this little city of strange people. A strong, clear, olive +complexion; features that were faultless (unless a woman-like +delicacy, that was yet not effeminate, was a fault); hair <i>en +queue</i>, the handsomer for its premature streakings of gray; a +tall, well knit form, attired in cloth, linen and leather of the +utmost fineness; manners Castilian, with a gravity almost +oriental,--made him one of those rare masculine figures which, on +the public promenade, men look back at and ladies inquire +about.</p> +<p>Now, who might <i>this</i> be? The rent poster had given no +name. Even the incurious Frowenfeld would fain guess a little. For +a man to be just of this sort, it seemed plain that he must live in +an isolated ease upon the unceasing droppings of coupons, rents, +and like receivables. Such was the immigrant's first conjecture; +and, as with slow, scant questions and answers they made their +bargain, every new glance strengthened it; he was evidently a +<i>rentier</i>. What, then, was his astonishment when Monsieur bent +down and made himself Frowenfeld's landlord, by writing what the +universal mind esteemed the synonym of enterprise and activity--the +name of Honoré Grandissime. The landlord did not see, or +ignored, his tenant's glance of surprise, and the tenant asked no +questions.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>We may add here an incident which seemed, when it took place, as +unimportant as a single fact well could be.</p> +<p>The little sum that Frowenfeld had inherited from his father had +been sadly depleted by the expenses of four funerals; yet he was +still able to pay a month's rent in advance, to supply his shop +with a scant stock of drugs, to purchase a celestial globe and some +scientific apparatus, and to buy a dinner or two of sausages and +crackers; but after this there was no necessity of hiding his +purse.</p> +<p>His landlord early contracted a fondness for dropping in upon +him, and conversing with him, as best the few and labored English +phrases at his command would allow. Frowenfeld soon noticed that he +never entered the shop unless its proprietor was alone, never sat +down, and always, with the same perfection of dignity that +characterized all his movements, departed immediately upon the +arrival of any third person. One day, when the landlord was making +one of these standing calls,--he always stood' beside a high glass +case, on the side of the shop opposite the counter,--he noticed in +Joseph's hand a sprig of basil, and spoke of it.</p> +<p>"You ligue?"</p> +<p>The tenant did not understand. "You--find--dad--nize?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld replied that it had been left by the oversight of a +customer, and expressed a liking for its odor.</p> +<p>"I sand you," said the landlord,--a speech whose meaning +Frowenfeld was not sure of until the next morning, when a small, +nearly naked black boy, who could not speak a word of English, +brought to the apothecary a luxuriant bunch of this basil, growing +in a rough box.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>ILLUSTRATING THE TRACTIVE POWER OF BASIL</h3> +<br> +<p>On the twenty-fourth day of December, 1803, at two o'clock, +P.M., the thermometer standing at 79, hygrometer 17, barometer +29.880, sky partly clouded, wind west, light, the apothecary of the +rue Royale, now something more than a month established in his +calling, might have been seen standing behind his counter and +beginning to show embarrassment in the presence of a lady, who, +since she had got her prescription filled and had paid for it, +ought in the conventional course of things to have hurried out, +followed by the pathetically ugly black woman who tarried at the +door as her attendant; for to be in an apothecary's shop at all was +unconventional. She was heavily veiled; but the sparkle of her +eyes, which no multiplication of veils could quite extinguish, her +symmetrical and well-fitted figure, just escaping smallness, her +grace of movement, and a soft, joyous voice, had several days +before led Frowenfeld to the confident conclusion that she was +young and beautiful.</p> +<p>For this was now the third time she had come to buy; and, though +the purchases were unaccountably trivial, the purchaser seemed not +so. On the two previous occasions she had been accompanied by a +slender girl, somewhat taller than she, veiled also, of graver +movement, a bearing that seemed to Joseph almost too regal, and a +discernible unwillingness to enter or tarry. There seemed a certain +family resemblance between her voice and that of the other, which +proclaimed them--he incautiously assumed--sisters. This time, as we +see, the smaller, and probably elder, came alone.</p> +<p>She still held in her hand the small silver which Frowenfeld had +given her in change, and sighed after the laugh they had just +enjoyed together over a slip in her English. A very grateful sip of +sweet the laugh was to the all but friendless apothecary, and the +embarrassment that rushed in after it may have arisen in part from +a conscious casting about in his mind for something--anything--that +might prolong her stay an instant. He opened his lips to speak; but +she was quicker than he, and said, in a stealthy way that seemed +oddly unnecessary:</p> +<p>"You 'ave some basilic?"</p> +<p>She accompanied her words with a little peeping movement, +directing his attention, through the open door, to his box of +basil, on the floor in the rear room.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld stepped back to it, cut half the bunch and returned, +with the bold intention of making her a present of it; but as he +hastened back to the spot he had left, he was astonished to see the +lady disappearing from his farthest front door, followed by her +negress.</p> +<p>"Did she change her mind, or did she misunderstand me?" he asked +himself; and, in the hope that she might return for the basil, he +put it in water in his back room.</p> +<p>The day being, as the figures have already shown, an unusually +mild one, even for a Louisiana December, and the finger of the +clock drawing by and by toward the last hour of sunlight, some half +dozen of Frowenfeld's townsmen had gathered, inside and out, some +standing, some sitting, about his front door, and all discussing +the popular topics of the day. For it might have been anticipated +that, in a city where so very little English was spoken and no +newspaper published except that beneficiary of eighty subscribers, +the "Moniteur de la Louisiane," the apothecary's shop in the rue +Royale would be the rendezvous for a select company of +English-speaking gentlemen, with a smart majority of +physicians.</p> +<p>The Cession had become an accomplished fact. With due +drum-beatings and act-reading, flag-raising, cannonading and +galloping of aides-de-camp, Nouvelle Orléans had become New +Orleans, and Louisiane was Louisiana. This afternoon, the first +week of American jurisdiction was only something over half gone, +and the main topic of public debate was still the Cession. Was it +genuine? and, if so, would it stand?</p> +<p>"Mark my words," said one, "the British flag will be floating +over this town within ninety days!" and he went on whittling the +back of his chair.</p> +<p>From this main question, the conversation branched out to the +subject of land titles. Would that great majority of Spanish +titles, derived from the concessions of post-commandants and others +of minor authority, hold good?</p> +<p>"I suppose you know what ---- thinks about it?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Well, he has quietly purchased the grant made by Carondelet to +the Marquis of----, thirty thousand acres, and now says the grant +is two hundred <i>and</i> thirty thousand. That is one style of men +Governor Claiborne is going to have on his hands. The town will +presently be as full of them as my pocket is of tobacco +crumbs,--every one of them with a Spanish grant as long as Clark's +ropewalk and made up since the rumor of the Cession."</p> +<p>"I hear that some of Honoré Grandissime's titles are +likely to turn out bad,--some of the old Brahmin properties and +some of the Mandarin lands."</p> +<p>"Fudge!" said Dr. Keene.</p> +<p>There was also the subject of rotation in office. Would this +provisional governor-general himself be able to stand fast? Had not +a man better temporize a while, and see what Ex-Governor-general +Casa Calvo and Trudeau were going to do? Would not men who +sacrificed old prejudices, braved the popular contumely, and came +forward and gave in their allegiance to the President's appointee, +have to take the chances of losing their official positions at +last? Men like Camille Brahmin, for instance, or Charlie Mandarin: +suppose Spain or France should get the province back, then where +would they be?</p> +<p>"One of the things I pity most in this vain world," drawled +Doctor Keene, "is a hive of patriots who don't know where to +swarm."</p> +<p>The apothecary was drawn into the discussion--at least he +thought he was. Inexperience is apt to think that Truth will be +knocked down and murdered unless she comes to the rescue. Somehow, +Frowenfeld's really excellent arguments seemed to give out more +heat than light. They were merciless; their principles were not +only lofty to dizziness, but precipitous, and their heights +unoccupied, and--to the common sight--unattainable. In consequence, +they provoked hostility and even resentment. With the kindest, the +most honest, and even the most modest, intentions, he found +himself--to his bewilderment and surprise--sniffed at by the +ungenerous, frowned upon by the impatient, and smiled down by the +good-natured in a manner that brought sudden blushes of +exasperation to his face, and often made him ashamed to find +himself going over these sham battles again in much savageness of +spirit, when alone with his books; or, in moments of weakness, +casting about for such unworthy weapons as irony and satire. In the +present debate, he had just provoked a sneer that made his blood +leap and his friends laugh, when Doctor Keene, suddenly rising and +beckoning across the street, exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Oh! Agricole! Agricole! <i>venez ici</i>; we want you."</p> +<p>A murmur of vexed protest arose from two or three.</p> +<p>"He's coming," said the whittler, who had also beckoned.</p> +<p>"Good evening, Citizen Fusilier," said Doctor Keene. "Citizen +Fusilier, allow me to present my friend, Professor Frowenfeld--yes, +you are a professor--yes, you are. He is one of your sort, Citizen +Fusilier, a man of thorough scientific education. I believe on my +soul, sir, he knows nearly as much as you do!"</p> +<p>The person who confronted the apothecary was a large, heavily +built, but well-molded and vigorous man, of whom one might say that +he was adorned with old age. His brow was dark, and furrowed partly +by time and partly by a persistent, ostentatious frown. His eyes +were large, black and bold, and the gray locks above them curled +short and harsh like the front of a bull. His nose was fine and +strong, and if there was any deficiency in mouth or chin, it was +hidden by a beard that swept down over his broad breast like the +beard of a prophet. In his dress, which was noticeably soiled, the +fashions of three decades were hinted at; he seemed to have donned +whatever he thought his friends would most have liked him to leave +off.</p> +<p>"Professor," said the old man, extending something like the paw +of a lion, and giving Frowenfeld plenty of time to become +thoroughly awed, "this is a pleasure as magnificent as unexpected! +A scientific man?--in Louisiana?" He looked around upon the doctors +as upon a graduating class.</p> +<p>"Professor, I am rejoiced!" He paused again, shaking the +apothecary's hand with great ceremony. "I do assure you, sir, I +dislike to relinquish your grasp. Do me the honor to allow me to +become your friend! I congratulate my downtrodden country on the +acquisition of such a citizen! I hope, sir,--at least I might have +hoped, had not Louisiana just passed into the hands of the most +clap-trap government in the universe, notwithstanding it pretends +to be a republic,--I might have hoped that you had come among us to +fasten the lie direct upon a late author, who writes of us that +'the air of this region is deadly to the Muses.'"</p> +<p>"He didn't say that?" asked one of the debaters, with pretended +indignation.</p> +<p>"He did, sir, after eating our bread!"</p> +<p>"And sucking our sugar-cane, too, no doubt!" said the wag; but +the old man took no notice.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, naturally, was not anxious to reply, and was greatly +relieved to be touched on the elbow by a child with a picayune in +one hand and a tumbler in the other. He escaped behind the counter +and gladly remained there.</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier," asked one of the gossips, "what has the new +government to do with the health of the Muses?"</p> +<p>"It introduces the English tongue," said the old man, +scowling.</p> +<p>"Oh, well," replied the questioner, "the Creoles will soon learn +the language."</p> +<p>"English is not a language, sir; it is a jargon! And when this +young simpleton, Claiborne, attempts to cram it down the public +windpipe in the courts, as I understand he intends, he will fail! +Hah! sir, I know men in this city who would rather eat a dog than +speak English! I speak it, but I also speak Choctaw."</p> +<p>"The new land titles will be in English."</p> +<p>"They will spurn his rotten titles. And if he attempts to +invalidate their old ones, why, let him do it! Napoleon Buonaparte" +(Italian pronounciation) "will make good every arpent within the +next two years. <i>Think so?</i> I know it! <i>How?</i> H-I +perceive it! H-I hope the yellow fever may spare you to witness +it."</p> +<p>A sullen grunt from the circle showed the "citizen" that he had +presumed too much upon the license commonly accorded his advanced +age, and by way of a diversion he looked around for Frowenfeld to +pour new flatteries upon. But Joseph, behind his counter, unaware +of either the offense or the resentment, was blushing with pleasure +before a visitor who had entered by the side door farthest from the +company.</p> +<p>"Gentlemen," said Agricola, "h-my dear friends, you must not +expect an old Creole to like anything in comparison with <i>la +belle langue</i>."</p> +<p>"Which language do you call <i>la belle?</i>" asked Doctor +Keene, with pretended simplicity.</p> +<p>The old man bent upon him a look of unspeakable contempt, which +nobody noticed. The gossips were one by one stealing a glance +toward that which ever was, is and must be an irresistible +lodestone to the eyes of all the sons of Adam, to wit, a chaste and +graceful complement of--skirts. Then in a lower tone they resumed +their desultory conversation.</p> +<p>It was the seeker after basil who stood before the counter, +holding in her hand, with her purse, the heavy veil whose folds had +before concealed her features.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>"OO DAD IS, 'SIEUR FROWENFEL'?"</h3> +<br> +<p>Whether the removal of the veil was because of the milder light +of the evening, or the result of accident, or of haste, or both, or +whether, by reason of some exciting or absorbing course of thought, +the wearer had withdrawn it unconsciously, was a matter that +occupied the apothecary as little as did Agricola's continued +harangue. As he looked upon the fair face through the light gauze +which still overhung but not obscured it, he readily perceived, +despite the sprightly smile, something like distress, and as she +spoke this became still more evident in her hurried undertone.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', I want you to sell me doze +<i>basilic</i>."</p> +<p>As she slipped the rings of her purse apart her fingers +trembled.</p> +<p>"It is waiting for you," said Frowenfeld; but the lady did not +hear him; she was giving her attention to the loud voice of +Agricola saying in the course of discussion:</p> +<p>"The Louisiana Creole is the noblest variety of enlightened +man!"</p> +<p>"Oo dad is, 'Sieur Frowenfel'?" she asked, softly, but with an +excited eye.</p> +<p>"That is Mr. Agricola Fusilier," answered Joseph in the same +tone, his heart leaping inexplicably as he met her glance. With an +angry flush she looked quickly around, scrutinized the old man in +an instantaneous, thorough way, and then glanced back at the +apothecary again, as if asking him to fulfil her request the +quicker.</p> +<p>He hesitated, in doubt as to her meaning.</p> +<p>"Wrap it yonder," she almost whispered.</p> +<p>He went, and in a moment returned, with the basil only partially +hid in a paper covering.</p> +<p>But the lady, muffled again in her manifold veil, had once more +lost her eagerness for it; at least, instead of taking it, she +moved aside, offering room for a masculine figure just entering. +She did not look to see who it might be--plenty of time to do that +by accident, by and by. There she made a mistake; for the +new-comer, with a silent bow of thanks, declined the place made for +him, moved across the shop, and occupied his eyes with the contents +of the glass case, his back being turned to the lady and +Frowenfeld. The apothecary recognized the Creole whom he had met +under the live-oak.</p> +<p>The lady put forth her hand suddenly to receive the package. As +she took it and turned to depart, another small hand was laid upon +it and it was returned to the counter. Something was said in a +low-pitched undertone, and the two sisters--if Frowenfeld's guess +was right--confronted each other. For a single instant only they +stood so; an earnest and hurried murmur of French words passed +between them, and they turned together, bowed with great suavity, +and were gone.</p> +<p>"The Cession is a mere temporary political manoeuvre!" growled +M. Fusilier.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's merchant friend came from his place of waiting, and +spoke twice before he attracted the attention of the bewildered +apothecary.</p> +<p>"Good-day, Mr. Frowenfeld; I have been told that--"</p> +<p>Joseph gazed after the two ladies crossing the street, and felt +uncomfortable that the group of gossips did the same. So did the +black attendant who glanced furtively back.</p> +<p>"Good-day, Mr. Frowenfeld; I--"</p> +<p>"Oh! how do you do, sir?" exclaimed the apothecary, with great +pleasantness, of face. It seemed the most natural thing that they +should resume their late conversation just where they had left off, +and that would certainly be pleasant. But the man of more +experience showed an unresponsive expression, that was as if he +remembered no conversation of any note.</p> +<p>"I have been told that you might be able to replace the glass in +this thing out of your private stock."</p> +<p>He presented a small, leather-covered case, evidently containing +some optical instrument. "It will give me a pretext for going," he +had said to himself, as he put it into his pocket in his +counting-room. He was not going to let the apothecary know he had +taken such a fancy to him.</p> +<p>"I do not know," replied Frowenfeld, as he touched the spring of +the case; "I will see what I have."</p> +<p>He passed into the back room, more than willing to get out of +sight till he might better collect himself.</p> +<p>"I do not keep these things for sale," said he as he went.</p> +<p>"Sir?" asked the Creole, as if he had not understood, and +followed through the open door.</p> +<p>"Is this what that lady was getting?" he asked, touching the +remnant of the basil in the box.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," said the apothecary, with his face in the drawer of +a table.</p> +<p>"They had no carriage with them." The Creole spoke with his back +turned, at the same time running his eyes along a shelf of books. +Frowenfeld made only the sound of rejecting bits of crystal and +taking up others. "I do not know who they are," ventured the +merchant.</p> +<p>Joseph still gave no answer, but a moment after approached, with +the instrument in his extended hand.</p> +<p>"You had it? I am glad," said the owner, receiving it, but +keeping one hand still on the books.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld put up his materials.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, are these your books? I mean do you use these +books?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>The Creole stepped back to the door.</p> +<p>"Agricola!"</p> +<p>"<i>Quoi</i>!"</p> +<p>"<i>Vien ici</i>."</p> +<p>Citizen Fusilier entered, followed by a small volley of retorts +from those with whom he had been disputing, and who rose as he did. +The stranger said something very sprightly in French, running the +back of one finger down the rank of books, and a lively dialogue +followed.</p> +<p>"You must be a great scholar," said the unknown by and by, +addressing the apothecary.</p> +<p>"He is a professor of chimistry," said the old man.</p> +<p>"I am nothing, as yet, but a student," said Joseph, as the three +returned into the shop; "certainly not a scholar, and still less a +professor." He spoke with a new quietness of manner that made the +younger Creole turn upon him a pleasant look.</p> +<p>"H-my young friend," said the patriarch, turning toward Joseph +with a tremendous frown, "when I, Agricola Fusilier, pronounce you +a professor, you are a professor. Louisiana will not look to +<i>you</i> for your credentials; she will look to me!"</p> +<p>He stumbled upon some slight impediment under foot. There were +times when it took but little to make Agricola stumble.</p> +<p>Looking to see what it was, Joseph picked up a silken purse. +There was a name embroidered on it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>SUDDEN FLASHES OF LIGHT</h3> +<br> +<p>The day was nearly gone. The company that had been chatting at +the front door, and which in warmer weather would have tarried +until bedtime, had wandered off; however, by stepping toward the +light the young merchant could decipher the letters on the purse. +Citizen Fusilier drew out a pair of spectacles, looked over his +junior's shoulder, read aloud, "<i>Aurore De G. Nanca</i>--," and +uttered an imprecation.</p> +<p>"Do not speak to me!" he thundered; "do not approach me! she did +it maliciously!"</p> +<p>"Sir!" began Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>But the old man uttered another tremendous malediction and +hurried into the street and away.</p> +<p>"Let him pass," said the other Creole calmly.</p> +<p>"What is the matter with him?" asked Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"He is getting old." The Creole extended the purse carelessly to +the apothecary. "Has it anything inside?"</p> +<p>"But a single pistareen."</p> +<p>"That is why she wanted the <i>basilic</i>, eh?"</p> +<p>"I do not understand you, sir."</p> +<p>"Do you not know what she was going to do with it?"</p> +<p>"With the basil? No sir."</p> +<p>"May be she was going to make a little tisane, eh?" said the +Creole, forcing down a smile.</p> +<p>But a portion of the smile would come when Frowenfeld answered, +with unnecessary resentment:</p> +<p>"She was going to make some proper use of it, which need not +concern me."</p> +<p>"Without doubt."</p> +<p>The Creole quietly walked a step or two forward and back and +looked idly into the glass case. "Is this young man in love with +her?" he asked himself. He turned around.</p> +<p>"Do you know those ladies, Mr. Frowenfeld? Do you visit them at +home?"</p> +<p>He drew out his porte-monnaie.</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"I will pay you for the repair of this instrument; have you +change for--"</p> +<p>"I will see," said the apothecary.</p> +<p>As he spoke he laid the purse on a stool, till he should light +his shop, and then went to his till without again taking it.</p> +<p>The Creole sauntered across to the counter and nipped the herb +which still lay there.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, you know what some very excellent people do +with this? They rub it on the sill of the door to make the money +come into the house."</p> +<p>Joseph stopped aghast with the drawer half drawn.</p> +<p>"Not persons of intelligence and--"</p> +<p>"All kinds. It is only some of the foolishness which they take +from the slaves. Many of your best people consult the voudou +horses."</p> +<p>"Horses?"</p> +<p>"Priestesses, you might call them," explained the Creole, "like +Momselle Marcelline or 'Zabeth Philosophe."</p> +<p>"Witches!" whispered Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Oh no," said the other with a shrug; "that is too hard a name; +say fortune-tellers. But Mr. Frowenfeld, I wish you to lend me your +good offices. Just supposing the possi<i>bil</i>ity that that lady +may be in need of money, you know, and will send back or come back +for the purse, you know, knowing that she most likely lost it here, +I ask you the favor that you will not let her know I have filled it +with gold. In fact, if she mentions my name--"</p> +<p>"To confess the truth, sir, I am not acquainted with your +name."</p> +<p>The Creole smiled a genuine surprise.</p> +<p>"I thought you knew it." He laughed a little at himself. "We +have nevertheless become very good friends--I believe? Well, in +fact then, Mr. Frowenfeld, you might say you do not know who put +the money in." He extended his open palm with the purse hanging +across it. Joseph was about to object to this statement, but the +Creole, putting on an expression of anxious desire, said: "I mean, +not by name. It is somewhat important to me, Mr. Frowenfeld, that +that lady should not know my present action. If you want to do +those two ladies a favor, you may rest assured the way to do it is +to say you do not know who put this gold." The Creole in his +earnestness slipped in his idiom. "You will excuse me if I do not +tell you my name; you can find it out at any time from Agricola. +Ah! I am glad she did not see me! You must not tell anybody about +this little event, eh?"</p> +<p>"No, sir," said Joseph, as he finally accepted the purse. "I +shall say nothing to any one else, and only what I cannot avoid +saying to the lady and her sister."</p> +<p>"<i>'Tis not her sister</i>" responded the Creole, "<i>'tis her +daughter</i>."</p> +<p>The italics signify, not how the words were said, but how they +sounded to Joseph. As if a dark lantern were suddenly turned full +upon it, he saw the significance of Citizen Fusilier's transport. +The fair strangers were the widow and daughter of the man whom +Agricola had killed in duel--the ladies with whom Doctor Keene had +desired to make him acquainted.</p> +<p>"Well, good evening, Mr. Frowenfeld." The Creole extended his +hand (his people are great hand-shakers). "Ah--" and then, for the +first time, he came to the true object of his visit. "The +conversation we had some weeks ago, Mr. Frowenfeld, has started a +train of thought in my mind"--he began to smile as if to convey the +idea that Joseph would find the subject a trivial one--"which has +almost brought me to the--"</p> +<p>A light footfall accompanied with the soft sweep of robes cut +short his words. There had been two or three entrances and exits +during the time the Creole had tarried, but he had not allowed them +to disturb him. Now, however, he had no sooner turned and fixed his +glance upon this last comer, than without so much as the invariable +Creole leave-taking of "Well, good evening, sir," he hurried +out.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE PHILOSOPHE</h3> +<br> +<p>The apothecary felt an inward nervous start as there advanced +into the light of his hanging lamp and toward the spot where he had +halted, just outside the counter, a woman of the quadroon caste, of +superb stature and poise, severely handsome features, clear, tawny +skin and large, passionate black eyes.</p> +<p>"<i>Bon soi', Miché</i>." [Monsieur.] A rather hard, yet +not repellent smile showed her faultless teeth.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld bowed.</p> +<p>"<i>Mo vien c'erc'er la bourse de Madame</i>."</p> +<p>She spoke the best French at her command, but it was not +understood.</p> +<p>The apothecary could only shake his head.</p> +<p>"<i>La bourse</i>" she repeated, softly smiling, but with a +scintillation of the eyes in resentment of his scrutiny. "<i>La +bourse</i>" she reiterated.</p> +<p>"Purse?"</p> +<p>"<i>Oui, Miché</i>."</p> +<p>"You are sent for it?"</p> +<p>"<i>Oui, Miché</i>."</p> +<p>He drew it from his breast pocket and marked the sudden glisten +of her eyes, reflecting the glisten of the gold in the silken +mesh.</p> +<p>"<i>Oui, c'est ça</i>," said she, putting her hand out +eagerly.</p> +<p>"I am afraid to give you this to-night," said Joseph.</p> +<p>"<i>Oui</i>," ventured she, dubiously, the lightning playing +deep back in her eyes.</p> +<p>"You might be robbed," said Frowenfeld. "It is very dangerous +for you to be out alone. It will not be long, now, until gun-fire." +(Eight o'clock P.M.--the gun to warn slaves to be in-doors, under +pain of arrest and imprisonment.)</p> +<p>The object of this solicitude shook her head with a smile at its +gratuitousness. The smile showed determination also.</p> +<p>"<i>Mo pas compren</i>'," she said.</p> +<p>"Tell the lady to send for it to-morrow."</p> +<p>She smiled helplessly and somewhat vexedly, shrugged and again +shook her head. As she did so she heard footsteps and voices in the +door at her back.</p> +<p>"<i>C'est ça</i>" she said again with a hurried attempt +at extreme amiability; "Dat it; <i>oui</i>;" and lifting her hand +with some rapidity made a sudden eager reach for the purse, but +failed.</p> +<p>"No!" said Frowenfeld, indignantly.</p> +<p>"Hello!" said Charlie Keene amusedly, as he approached from the +door.</p> +<p>The woman turned, and in one or two rapid sentences in the +Creole dialect offered her explanation.</p> +<p>"Give her the purse, Joe; I will answer for its being all +right."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld handed it to her. She started to pass through the +door in the rue Royale by which Doctor Keene had entered; but on +seeing on its threshold Agricola frowning upon her, she turned +quickly with evident trepidation, and hurried out into the darkness +of the other street.</p> +<p>Agricola entered. Doctor Keene looked about the shop.</p> +<p>"I tell you, Agricole, you didn't have it with you; Frowenfeld, +you haven't seen a big knotted walking-stick?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld was sure no walking-stick had been left there.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, Frowenfeld," said Doctor Keene, with a little laugh, +as the three sat down, "I'd a'most as soon trust that woman as if +she was white."</p> +<p>The apothecary said nothing.</p> +<p>"How free," said Agricola, beginning with a meditative gaze at +the sky without, and ending with a philosopher's smile upon his two +companions,--"how free we people are from prejudice against the +negro!"</p> +<p>"The white people," said Frowenfeld, half abstractedly, half +inquiringly.</p> +<p>"H-my young friend, when we say, 'we people,' we <i>always</i> +mean we white people. The non-mention of color always implies pure +white; and whatever is not pure white is to all intents and +purposes pure black. When I say the 'whole community,' I mean the +whole white portion; when I speak of the 'undivided public +sentiment,' I mean the sentiment of the white population. What else +could I mean? Could you suppose, sir, the expression which you may +have heard me use--'my downtrodden country'--includes blacks and +mulattoes? What is that up yonder in the sky? The moon. The new +moon, or the old moon, or the moon in her third quarter, but always +the moon! Which part of it? Why, the shining part--the white part, +always and only! Not that there is a prejudice against the negro. +By no means. Wherever he can be of any service in a strictly menial +capacity we kindly and generously tolerate his presence."</p> +<p>Was the immigrant growing wise, or weak, that he remained +silent?</p> +<p>Agricola rose as he concluded and said he would go home. Doctor +Keene gave him his hand lazily, without rising.</p> +<p>"Frowenfeld," he said, with a smile and in an undertone, as +Agricola's footsteps died away, "don't you know who that woman +is?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Well, I'll tell you."</p> +<p>He told him.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>On that lonely plantation at the Cannes Brulées, where +Aurore Nancanou's childhood had been passed without brothers or +sisters, there had been given her, according to the well-known +custom of plantation life, a little quadroon slave-maid as her +constant and only playmate. This maid began early to show herself +in many ways remarkable. While yet a child she grew tall, lithe, +agile; her eyes were large and black, and rolled and sparkled if +she but turned to answer to her name. Her pale yellow forehead, low +and shapely, with the jet hair above it, the heavily pencilled +eyebrows and long lashes below, the faint red tinge that blushed +with a kind of cold passion through the clear yellow skin of the +cheek, the fulness of the red, voluptuous lips and the roundness of +her perfect neck, gave her, even at fourteen, a barbaric and +magnetic beauty, that startled the beholder like an unexpected +drawing out of a jewelled sword. Such a type could have sprung only +from high Latin ancestry on the one side and--we might +venture--Jaloff African on the other. To these charms of person she +added mental acuteness, conversational adroitness, concealed +cunning, and noiseless but visible strength of will; and to these, +that rarest of gifts in one of her tincture, the purity of true +womanhood.</p> +<p>At fourteen a necessity which had been parleyed with for two +years or more became imperative, and Aurore's maid was taken from +her. Explanation is almost superfluous. Aurore was to become a lady +and her playmate a lady's maid; but not <i>her</i> maid, because +the maid had become, of the two, the ruling spirit. It was a +question of grave debate in the mind of M. De Grapion what +disposition to make of her.</p> +<p>About this time the Grandissimes and De Grapions, through +certain efforts of Honoré's father (since dead) were making +some feeble pretences of mutual good feeling, and one of those +Kentuckian dealers in corn and tobacco whose flatboat fleets were +always drifting down the Mississippi, becoming one day M. De +Grapion's transient guest, accidentally mentioned a wish of +Agricola Fusilier. Agricola, it appeared, had commissioned him to +buy the most beautiful lady's maid that in his extended journeyings +he might be able to find; he wanted to make her a gift to his +niece, Honoré's sister. The Kentuckian saw the demand met in +Aurore's playmate. M. De Grapion would not sell her. (Trade with a +Grandissime? Let them suspect he needed money?) No; but he would +ask Agricola to accept the services of the waiting-maid for, say, +ten years. The Kentuckian accepted the proposition on the spot and +it was by and by carried out. She was never recalled to the Cannes +Brulées, but in subsequent years received her freedom from +her master, and in New Orleans became Palmyre la Philosophe, as +they say in the corrupt French of the old Creoles, or Palmyre +Philosophe, noted for her taste and skill as a hair-dresser, for +the efficiency of her spells and the sagacity of her divinations, +but most of all for the chaste austerity with which she practised +the less baleful rites of the voudous.</p> +<p>"That's the woman," said Doctor Keene, rising to go, as he +concluded the narrative,--"that's she, Palmyre Philosophe. Now you +get a view of the vastness of Agricole's generosity; he tolerates +her even though she does not present herself in the 'strictly +menial capacity.' Reason why--<i>he's afraid of her</i>."</p> +<p>Time passed, if that may be called time which we have to measure +with a clock. The apothecary of the rue Royale found better ways of +measurement. As quietly as a spider he was spinning information +into knowledge and knowledge into what is supposed to be wisdom; +whether it was or not we shall see. His unidentified merchant +friend who had adjured him to become acclimated as "they all did" +had also exhorted him to study the human mass of which he had +become a unit; but whether that study, if pursued, was sweetening +and ripening, or whether it was corrupting him, that friend did not +come to see; it was the busy time of year. Certainly so young a +solitary, coming among a people whose conventionalities were so at +variance with his own door-yard ethics, was in sad danger of being +unduly--as we might say--Timonized. His acquaintances continued to +be few in number.</p> +<p>During this fermenting period he chronicled much wet and some +cold weather. This may in part account for the uneventfulness of +its passage; events do not happen rapidly among the Creoles in bad +weather. However, trade was good.</p> +<p>But the weather cleared; and when it was getting well on into +the Creole spring and approaching the spring of the almanacs, +something did occur that extended Frowenfeld's acquaintance without +Doctor Keene's assistance.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>A CALL FROM THE RENT-SPECTRE</h3> +<br> +<p>It is nearly noon of a balmy morning late in February. Aurore +Nancanou and her daughter have only this moment ceased sewing, in +the small front room of No. 19 rue Bienville. Number 19 is the +right-hand half of a single-story, low-roofed tenement, washed with +yellow ochre, which it shares generously with whoever leans against +it. It sits as fast on the ground as a toad. There is a kitchen +belonging to it somewhere among the weeds in the back yard, and +besides this room where the ladies are, there is, directly behind +it, a sleeping apartment. Somewhere back of this there is a little +nook where in pleasant weather they eat. Their cook and housemaid +is the plain person who attends them on the street. Her bedchamber +is the kitchen and her bed the floor. The house's only other +protector is a hound, the aim of whose life is to get thrust out of +the ladies' apartments every fifteen minutes.</p> +<p>Yet if you hastily picture to yourself a forlorn-looking +establishment, you will be moving straight away from the fact. +Neatness, order, excellence, are prevalent qualities in all the +details of the main house's inward garniture. The furniture is +old-fashioned, rich, French, imported. The carpets, if not new, are +not cheap, either. Bits of crystal and silver, visible here and +there, are as bright as they are antiquated; and one or two +portraits, and the picture of Our Lady of Many Sorrows, are +passably good productions. The brass work, of which there is much, +is brilliantly burnished, and the front room is bright and +cheery.</p> +<p>At the street door of this room somebody has just knocked. +Aurore has risen from her seat. The other still sits on a low chair +with her hands and sewing dropped into her lap, looking up +steadfastly into her mother's face with a mingled expression of +fondness and dismayed expectation. Aurore hesitates beside her +chair, desirous of resuming her seat, even lifts her sewing from +it; but tarries a moment, her alert suspense showing in her eyes. +Her daughter still looks up into them. It is not strange that the +dwellers round about dispute as to which is the fairer, nor that in +the six months during which the two have occupied Number 19 the +neighbors have reached no conclusion on this subject. If some young +enthusiast compares the daughter--in her eighteenth year--to a +bursting blush rosebud full of promise, some older one immediately +retorts that the other--in her thirty-fifth--is the red, red, +full-blown, faultless joy of the garden. If one says the maiden has +the dew of youth,--"But!" cry two or three mothers in a breath, +"that other one, child, will never grow old. With her it will +always be morning. That woman is going to last forever; +ha-a-a-a!--even longer!"</p> +<p>There was one direction in which the widow evidently had the +advantage; you could see from the street or the opposite windows +that she was a wise householder. On the day they moved into Number +19 she had been seen to enter in advance of all her other movables, +carrying into the empty house a new broom, a looking-glass, and a +silver coin. Every morning since, a little watching would have +discovered her at the hour of sunrise sprinkling water from her +side casement, and her opposite neighbors often had occasion to +notice that, sitting at her sewing by the front window, she never +pricked her finger but she quickly ran it up behind her ear, and +then went on with her work. Would anybody but Joseph Frowenfeld +ever have lived in and moved away from the two-story brick next +them on the right and not have known of the existence of such a +marvel?</p> +<p>"Ha!" they said, "she knows how to keep off bad luck, that +Madame yonder. And the younger one seems not to like it. Girls +think themselves so smart these days."</p> +<p>Ah, there was the knock again, right there on the street-door, +as loud as if it had been given with a joint of sugar-cane!</p> +<p>The daughter's hand, which had just resumed the needle, stood +still in mid-course with the white thread half-drawn. Aurore +tiptoed slowly over the carpeted floor. There came a shuffling +sound, and the corner of a folded white paper commenced appearing +and disappearing under the door. She mounted a chair and peeped +through that odd little <i>jalousie</i> which formerly was in +almost all New Orleans street-doors; but the missive had meantime +found its way across the sill, and she saw only the unpicturesque +back of a departing errand-boy. But that was well. She had a pride, +to maintain which--and a poverty, to conceal which--she felt to be +necessary to her self-respect; and this made her of necessity a +trifle unsocial in her own castle. Do you suppose she was going to +put on the face of having been born or married to this degraded +condition of things?</p> +<p>Who knows?--the knock might have been from 'Sieur +Frowenfel'--ha, ha! He might be just silly enough to call so early; +or it might have been from that <i>polisson</i> of a +Grandissime,--which one didn't matter, they were all +detestable,--coming to collect the rent. That was her original +fear; or, worse still, it might have been, had it been softer, the +knock of some possible lady visitor. She had no intention of +admitting any feminine eyes to detect this carefully covered up +indigence. Besides, it was Monday. There is no sense in trifling +with bad luck. The reception of Monday callers is a source of +misfortune never known to fail, save in rare cases when good luck +has already been secured by smearing the front walk or the +banquette with Venetian red.</p> +<p>Before the daughter could dart up and disengage herself from her +work her mother had pounced upon the paper. She was standing and +reading, her rich black lashes curtaining their downcast eyes, her +infant waist and round, close-fitted, childish arms harmonizing +prettily with her mock frown of infantile perplexity, and her long, +limp robe heightening the grace of her posture, when the younger +started from her seat with the air of determining not to be left at +a disadvantage.</p> +<p>But what is that on the dark eyelash? With a sudden additional +energy the daughter dashes the sewing and chair to right and left, +bounds up, and in a moment has Aurore weeping in her embrace and +has snatched the note from her hand.</p> +<p>"<i>Ah! maman! Ah! ma chère mère</i>!"</p> +<p>The mother forced a laugh. She was not to be mothered by her +daughter; so she made a dash at Clotilde's uplifted hand to recover +the note, which was unavailing. Immediately there arose in colonial +French the loveliest of contentions, the issue of which was that +the pair sat down side by side, like two sisters over one +love-letter, and undertook to decipher the paper. It read as +follows:</p> +<blockquote>"NEW ORLEANS, 20 Feb're, 1804.<br> +<br> +"MADAME NANCANOU: I muss oblige to ass you for rent of that house +whare you living, it is at number 19 Bienville street whare I do +not received thos rent from you not since tree mons and I demand +you this is mabe thirteen time. And I give to you notice of 19 das +writen in Anglish as the new law requi. That witch the law make +necessare only for 15 das, and when you not pay me those rent in 19 +das till the tense of Marh I will rekes you to move out. That witch +make me to be verry sorry. I have the honor to remain, Madam,<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"Your humble servant,<br> +"H. Grandissime.<br> +"<i>per</i> Z.F."</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<p>There was a short French postscript on the opposite page signed +only by M. Zénon François, explaining that he, who +had allowed them in the past to address him as their landlord and +by his name, was but the landlord's agent; that the landlord was a +far better-dressed man than he could afford to be; that the writing +opposite was a notice for them to quit the premises they had rented +(not leased), or pay up; that it gave the writer great pain to send +it, although it was but the necessary legal form and he only an +irresponsible drawer of an inadequate salary, with thirteen +children to support; and that he implored them to tear off and burn +up this postscript immediately they had read it.</p> +<p>"Ah, the miserable!" was all the comment made upon it as the two +ladies addressed their energies to the previous English. They had +never suspected him of being M. Grandissime.</p> +<p>Their eyes dragged slowly and ineffectually along the lines to +the signature.</p> +<p>"H. Grandissime! Loog ad 'im!" cried the widow, with a sudden +short laugh, that brought the tears after it like a wind-gust in a +rose-tree. She held the letter out before them as if she was +lifting something alive by the back of the neck, and to intensify +her scorn spoke in the hated tongue prescribed by the new courts. +"Loog ad 'im! dad ridge gen'leman oo give so mudge money to de +'ozpill!"</p> +<p>"Bud, <i>maman</i>," said the daughter, laying her hand +appeasingly upon her mother's knee, "<i>ee</i> do nod know 'ow we +is poor."</p> +<p>"Ah!" retorted Aurore, "<i>par example! Non?</i> Ee thingue we +is ridge, eh? Ligue his oncle, eh? Ee thing so, too, eh?" She cast +upon her daughter the look of burning scorn intended for Agricola +Fusilier. "You wan' to tague the pard of dose Grandissime'?"</p> +<p>The daughter returned a look of agony.</p> +<p>"No," she said, "bud a man wad godd some 'ouses to rend, muz ee +nod boun' to ged 'is rend?"</p> +<p>"Boun' to ged--ah! yez ee muz do 'is possible to ged 'is rend. +Oh! certain<i>lee</i>. Ee is ridge, bud ee need a lill money, bad, +bad. Fo' w'at?" The excited speaker rose to her feet under a sudden +inspiration. "<i>Tenez, Mademoiselle!</i>" She began to make great +show of unfastening her dress.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, comment?</i>" demanded the suffering daughter.</p> +<p>"Yez!" continued Aurore, keeping up the demonstration, "you wand +'im to 'ave 'is rend so bad! An' I godd honely my cloze; so you juz +tague diz to you' fine gen'lemen, 'Sieur Honoré +Grandissime."</p> +<p>"Ah-h-h-h!" cried the martyr.</p> +<p>"An' you is righd," persisted the tormentor, still unfastening; +but the daughter's tears gushed forth, and the repentant tease +threw herself upon her knees, drew her child's head into her bosom +and wept afresh.</p> +<p>Half an hour was passed in council; at the end of which they +stood beneath their lofty mantelshelf, each with a foot on a brazen +fire-dog, and no conclusion reached.</p> +<p>"Ah, my child!"--they had come to themselves now and were +speaking in their peculiar French--"if we had here in these hands +but the tenth part of what your papa often played away in one night +without once getting angry! But we have not. Ah! but your father +was a fine fellow; if he could have lived for you to know him! So +accomplished! Ha, ha, ha! I can never avoid laughing, when I +remember him teaching me to speak English; I used to enrage him +so!"</p> +<p>The daughter brought the conversation back to the subject of +discussion. There were nineteen days yet allowed them. God +knows--by the expiration of that time they might be able to pay. +With the two music scholars whom she then had and three more whom +she had some hope to get, she made bold to say they could pay the +rent.</p> +<p>"Ah, Clotilde, my child," exclaimed Aurore, with sudden +brightness, "you don't need a mask and costume to resemble your +great-grandmother, the casket-girl!" Aurore felt sure, on her part, +that with the one embroidery scholar then under her tutelage, and +the three others who had declined to take lessons, they could +easily pay the rent--and how kind it was of Monsieur, the aged +father of that one embroidery scholar, to procure those invitations +to the ball! The dear old man! He said he must see one more ball +before he should die.</p> +<p>Aurore looked so pretty in the reverie into which she fell that +her daughter was content to admire her silently.</p> +<p>"Clotilde," said the mother, presently looking up, "do you +remember the evening you treated me so ill?"</p> +<p>The daughter smiled at the preposterous charge.</p> +<p>"I did not treat you ill."</p> +<p>"Yes, don't you know--the evening you made me lose my +purse?"</p> +<p>"Certainly, I know!" The daughter took her foot from the +andiron; her eyes lighted up aggressively. "For losing your purse +blame yourself. For the way you found it again--which was far +worse--thank Palmyre. If you had not asked her to find it and +shared the gold with her we could have returned with it to 'Sieur +Frowenfel'; but now we are ashamed to let him see us. I do not +doubt he filled the purse."</p> +<p>"He? He never knew it was empty. It was Nobody who filled it. +Palmyre says that Papa Lébat--"</p> +<p>"Ha!" exclaimed Clotilde at this superstitious mention.</p> +<p>The mother tossed her head and turned her back, swallowing the +unendurable bitterness of being rebuked by her daughter. But the +cloud hung over but a moment.</p> +<p>"Clotilde," she said, a minute after, turning with a look of +sun-bright resolve, "I am going to see him."</p> +<p>"To see whom?" asked the other, looking back from the window, +whither she had gone to recover from a reactionary trembling.</p> +<p>"To whom, my child? Why--"</p> +<p>"You do not expect mercy from Honoré Grandissime? You +would not ask it?"</p> +<p>"No. There is no mercy in the Grandissime blood; but cannot I +demand justice? Ha! it is justice that I shall demand!"</p> +<p>"And you will really go and see him?"</p> +<p>"You will see, Mademoiselle," replied Aurore, dropping a broom +with which she had begun to sweep up some spilled buttons.</p> +<p>"And I with you?"</p> +<p>"No! To a counting-room? To the presence of the chief of that +detestable race? No!"</p> +<p>"But you don't know where his office is."</p> +<p>"Anybody can tell me."</p> +<p>Preparation began at once. By and by--</p> +<p>"Clotilde."</p> +<p>Clotilde was stooping behind her mother, with a ribbon between +her lips, arranging a flounce.</p> +<p>"M-m-m."</p> +<p>"You must not watch me go out of sight; do you hear? ... But it +<i>is</i> dangerous. I knew of a gentleman who watched his wife go +out of his sight and she never came back!"</p> +<p>"Hold still!" said Clotilde.</p> +<p>"But when my hand itches," retorted Aurore in a high key, +"haven't I got to put it instantly into my pocket if I want the +money to come there? Well, then!"</p> +<p>The daughter proposed to go to the kitchen and tell Alphonsina +to put on her shoes.</p> +<p>"My child," cried Aurore, "you are crazy! Do you want Alphonsina +to be seized for the rent?"</p> +<p>"But you cannot go alone--and on foot!"</p> +<p>"I must go alone; and--can you lend me your carriage? Ah, you +have none? Certainly I must go alone and on foot if I am to say I +cannot pay the rent. It is no indiscretion of mine. If anything +happens to me it is M. Grandissime who is responsible."</p> +<p>Now she is ready for the adventurous errand. She darts to the +mirror. The high-water marks are gone from her eyes. She wheels +half around and looks over her shoulder. The flaring bonnet and +loose ribbons gave her a more girlish look than ever.</p> +<p>"Now which is the older, little old woman?" she chirrups, and +smites her daughter's cheek softly with her palm.</p> +<p>"And you are not afraid to go alone?"</p> +<p>"No; but remember! look at that dog!"</p> +<p>The brute sinks apologetically to the floor. Clotilde opens the +street door, hands Aurore the note, Aurore lays a frantic kiss upon +her lips, pressing it on tight so as to get it again when she comes +back, and--while Clotilde calls the cook to gather up the buttons +and take away the broom, and while the cook, to make one trip of +it, gathers the hound into her bosom and carries broom and dog out +together--Aurore sallies forth, leaving Clotilde to resume her +sewing and await the coming of a guitar scholar.</p> +<p>"It will keep her fully an hour," thought the girl, far from +imagining that Aurore had set about a little private business which +she proposed to herself to accomplish before she even started in +the direction of M. Grandissime's counting-rooms.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>BEFORE SUNSET</h3> +<br> +<p>In old times, most of the sidewalks of New Orleans not in the +heart of town were only a rough, rank turf, lined on the side next +the ditch with the gunwales of broken-up flatboats--ugly, narrow, +slippery objects. As Aurora--it sounds so much pleasanter to +anglicize her name--as Aurora gained a corner where two of these +gunwales met, she stopped and looked back to make sure that +Clotilde was not watching her. That others had noticed her here and +there she did not care; that was something beauty would have to +endure, and it only made her smile to herself.</p> +<p>"Everybody sees I am from the country--walking on the street +without a waiting-maid."</p> +<p>A boy passed, hushing his whistle, and gazing at the lone lady +until his turning neck could twist no farther. She was so dewy +fresh! After he had got across the street he turned to look again. +Where could she have disappeared?</p> +<p>The only object to be seen on the corner from which she had +vanished was a small, yellow-washed house much like the one Aurora +occupied, as it was like hundreds that then characterized and still +characterize the town, only that now they are of brick instead of +adobe. They showed in those days, even more than now, the wide +contrast between their homely exteriors and the often elegant +apartments within. However, in this house the front room was merely +neat. The furniture was of rude, heavy pattern, Creole-made, and +the walls were unadorned; the day of cheap pictures had not come. +The lofty bedstead which filled one corner was spread and hung with +a blue stuff showing through a web of white needlework. The brazen +feet of the chairs were brightly burnished, as were the brass +mountings of the bedstead and the brass globes on the cold +andirons. Curtains of blue and white hung at the single window. The +floor, from habitual scrubbing with the common weed which +politeness has to call <i>Helenium autumnale</i>, was stained a +bright, clean yellow. On it were, here and there in places, white +mats woven of bleached palmetto-leaf. Such were the room's +appointments; there was but one thing more, a singular bit of +fantastic carving,--a small table of dark mahogany supported on the +upward-writhing images of three scaly serpents.</p> +<p>Aurora sat down beside this table. A dwarf Congo woman, as black +as soot, had ushered her in, and, having barred the door, had +disappeared, and now the mistress of the house entered.</p> +<p>February though it was, she was dressed--and looked +comfortable--in white. That barbaric beauty which had begun to bud +twenty years before was now in perfect bloom. The united grace and +pride of her movement was inspiring but--what shall we +say?--feline? It was a femininity without humanity,--something that +made her, with all her superbness, a creature that one would want +to find chained. It was the woman who had received the gold from +Frowenfeld--Palmyre Philosophe.</p> +<p>The moment her eyes fell upon Aurora her whole appearance +changed. A girlish smile lighted up her face, and as Aurora rose up +reflecting it back, they simultaneously clapped hands, laughed and +advanced joyously toward each other, talking rapidly without regard +to each other's words.</p> +<p>"Sit down," said Palmyre, in the plantation French of their +childhood, as they shook hands.</p> +<p>They took chairs and drew up face to face as close as they could +come, then sighed and smiled a moment, and then looked grave and +were silent. For in the nature of things, and notwithstanding the +amusing familiarity common between Creole ladies and the menial +class, the unprotected little widow should have had a very serious +errand to bring her to the voudou's house.</p> +<p>"Palmyre," began the lady, in a sad tone.</p> +<p>"Momselle Aurore."</p> +<p>"I want you to help me." The former mistress not only cast her +hands into her lap, lifted her eyes supplicatingly and dropped them +again, but actually locked her fingers to keep them from +trembling.</p> +<p>"Momselle Aurore--" began Palmyre, solemnly.</p> +<p>"Now, I know what you are going to say--but it is of no use to +say it; do this much for me this one time and then I will let +voudou alone as much as you wish--forever!"</p> +<p>"You have not lost your purse <i>again?</i>"</p> +<p>"Ah! foolishness, no."</p> +<p>Both laughed a little, the philosophe feebly, and Aurora with an +excited tremor.</p> +<p>"Well?" demanded the quadroon, looking grave again.</p> +<p>Aurora did not answer.</p> +<p>"Do you wish me to work a spell for you?"</p> +<p>The widow nodded, with her eyes cast down.</p> +<p>Both sat quite still for some time; then the philosophe gently +drew the landlord's letter from between Aurora's hands.</p> +<p>"What is this?" She could not read in any language.</p> +<p>"I must pay my rent within nineteen days."</p> +<p>"Have you not paid it?"</p> +<p>The delinquent shook her head.</p> +<p>"Where is the gold that came into your purse? All gone?"</p> +<p>"For rice and potatoes," said Aurora, and for the first time she +uttered a genuine laugh, under that condition of mind which Latins +usually substitute for fortitude. Palmyre laughed too, very +properly.</p> +<p>Another silence followed. The lady could not return the +quadroon's searching gaze.</p> +<p>"Momselle Aurore," suddenly said Palmyre, "you want me to work a +spell for something else."</p> +<p>Aurora started, looked up for an instant in a frightened way, +and then dropped her eyes and let her head droop, murmuring:</p> +<p>"No, I do not."</p> +<p>Palmyre fixed a long look upon her former mistress. She saw that +though Aurora might be distressed about the rent, there was +something else,--a deeper feeling,--impelling her upon a course the +very thought of which drove the color from her lips and made her +tremble.</p> +<p>"You are wearing red," said the philosophe.</p> +<p>Aurora's hand went nervously to the red ribbon about her +neck.</p> +<p>"It is an accident; I had nothing else convenient."</p> +<p>"Miché Agoussou loves red," persisted Palmyre. (Monsieur +Agoussou is the demon upon whom the voudous call in matters of +love.)</p> +<p>The color that came into Aurora's cheek ought to have suited +Monsieur precisely.</p> +<p>"It is an accident," she feebly insisted.</p> +<p>"Well," presently said Palmyre, with a pretence of abandoning +her impression, "then you want me to work you a spell for money, do +you?"</p> +<p>Aurora nodded, while she still avoided the quadroon's +glance.</p> +<p>"I know better," thought the philosophe. "You shall have the +sort you want."</p> +<p>The widow stole an upward glance.</p> +<p>"Oh!" said Palmyre, with the manner of one making a decided +digression, "I have been wanting to ask you something. That evening +at the pharmacy--was there a tall, handsome gentleman standing by +the counter?"</p> +<p>"He was standing on the other side."</p> +<p>"Did you see his face?"</p> +<p>"No; his back was turned."</p> +<p>"Momselle Aurore," said Palmyre, dropping her elbows upon her +knees and taking the lady's hand as if the better to secure the +truth, "was that the gentleman you met at the ball?"</p> +<p>"My faith!" said Aurora, stretching her eyebrows upward. "I did +not think to look. Who was it?"</p> +<p>But Palmyre Philosophe was not going to give more than she got, +even to her old-time Momselle; she merely straightened back into +her chair with an amiable face.</p> +<p>"Who do you think he is?" persisted Aurora, after a pause, +smiling downward and toying with her rings.</p> +<p>The quadroon shrugged.</p> +<p>They both sat in reverie for a moment--a long moment for such +sprightly natures--and Palmyre's mien took on a professional +gravity. She presently pushed the landlord's letter under the +lady's hands as they lay clasped in her lap, and a moment after +drew Aurora's glance with her large, strong eyes and asked:</p> +<p>"What shall we do?"</p> +<p>The lady immediately looked startled and alarmed and again +dropped her eyes in silence. The quadroon had to speak again.</p> +<p>"We will burn a candle."</p> +<p>Aurora trembled.</p> +<p>"No," she succeeded in saying.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Palmyre, "you must get your rent money." But the +charm which she was meditating had no reference to rent money. "She +knows that," thought the voudou.</p> +<p>As she rose and called her Congo slave-woman, Aurora made as if +to protest further; but utterance failed her. She clenched her +hands and prayed to fate for Clotilde to come and lead her away as +she had done at the apothecary's. And well she might.</p> +<p>The articles brought in by the servant were simply a little +pound-cake and cordial, a tumbler half-filled with the <i>sirop +naturelle</i> of the sugar-cane, and a small piece of candle of the +kind made from the fragrant green wax of the candleberry myrtle. +These were set upon the small table, the bit of candle standing, +lighted, in the tumbler of sirup, the cake on a plate, the cordial +in a wine-glass. This feeble child's play was all; except that as +Palmyre closed out all daylight from the room and received the +offering of silver that "paid the floor" and averted +<i>guillons</i> (interferences of outside imps), Aurora,--alas! +alas!--went down upon her knees with her gaze fixed upon the +candle's flame, and silently called on Assonquer (the imp of good +fortune) to cast his snare in her behalf around the mind and heart +of--she knew not whom.</p> +<p>By and by her lips, which had moved at first, were still and she +only watched the burning wax. When the flame rose clear and long it +was a sign that Assonquer was enlisted in the coveted endeavor. +When the wick sputtered, the devotee trembled in fear of failure. +Its charred end curled down and twisted away from her and her heart +sank; but the tall figure of Palmyre for a moment came between, the +wick was snuffed, the flame tapered up again, and for a long time +burned, a bright, tremulous cone. Again the wick turned down, but +this time toward her,--a propitious omen,--and suddenly fell +through the expended wax and went out in the sirup.</p> +<p>The daylight, as Palmyre let it once more into the apartment, +showed Aurora sadly agitated. In evidence of the innocence of her +fluttering heart, guilt, at least for the moment, lay on it, an +appalling burden.</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2102.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2102.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2102.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Aurora,--alas! alas!--went down upon her knees with her gaze +fixed upon the candle's flame".</b></p> +<br> +<p>"That is all, Palmyre, is it not? I am sure that is all--it must +be all. I cannot stay any longer. I wish I was with Clotilde; I +have stayed too long."</p> +<p>"Yes; all for the present," replied the quadroon. "Here, here is +some charmed basil; hold it between your lips as you walk--"</p> +<p>"But I am going to my landlord's office!"</p> +<p>"Office? Nobody is at his office now; it is too late. You would +find that your landlord had gone to dinner. I will tell you, +though, where you <i>must</i> go. First go home; eat your dinner; +and this evening [the Creoles never say afternoon], about a +half-hour before sunset, walk down Royale to the lower corner of +the Place d'Armes, pass entirely around the square and return up +Royale. Never look behind until you get into your house again."</p> +<p>Aurora blushed with shame.</p> +<p>"Alone?" she exclaimed, quite unnerved and tremulous.</p> +<p>"You will seem to be alone; but I will follow behind you when +you pass here. Nothing shall hurt you. If you do that, the charm +will certainly work; if you do not--"</p> +<p>The quadroon's intentions were good. She was determined to see +who it was that could so infatuate her dear little Momselle; and, +as on such an evening as the present afternoon promised to merge +into all New Orleans promenaded on the Place d'Armes and the levee, +her charm was a very practical one.</p> +<p>"And that will bring the money, will it?" asked Aurora.</p> +<p>"It will bring anything you want."</p> +<p>"Possible?"</p> +<p>"These things that <i>you</i> want, Momselle Aurore, are easy to +bring. You have no charms working against you. But, oh, I wish to +God I could work the <i>curse</i> I want to work!" The woman's eyes +blazed, her bosom heaved, she lifted her clenched hand above her +head and looked upward, crying: "I would give this right hand off +at the wrist to catch Agricola Fusilier where I could work him a +curse! But I shall; I shall some day be revenged!" She pitched her +voice still higher. "I cannot die till I have been! There is +nothing that could kill me, I want my revenge so bad!" As suddenly +as she had broken out, she hushed, unbarred the door, and with a +stern farewell smile saw Aurora turn homeward.</p> +<p>"Give me something to eat, <i>chérie</i>," cried the +exhausted lady, dropping into Clotilde's chair and trying to +die.</p> +<p>"Ah! <i>maman</i>, what makes you look so sick?"</p> +<p>Aurora waved her hand contemptuously and gasped.</p> +<p>"Did you see him? What kept you so long--so long?"</p> +<p>"Ask me nothing; I am so enraged with disappointment. He was +gone to dinner!"</p> +<p>"Ah! my poor mother!"</p> +<p>"And I must go back as soon as I can take a little +<i>sieste</i>. I am determined to see him this very day."</p> +<p>"Ah! my poor mother!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>ROLLED IN THE DUST</h3> +<br> +<p>"No, Frowenfeld," said little Doctor Keene, speaking for the +after-dinner loungers, "you must take a little human advice. Go, +get the air on the Plaza. We will keep shop for you. Stay as long +as you like and come home in any condition you think best." And +Joseph, tormented into this course, put on his hat and went +out.</p> +<p>"Hard to move as a cow in the moonlight," continued Doctor +Keene, "and knows just about as much of the world. He wasn't aware, +until I told him to-day, that there are two Honoré +Grandissimes." [Laughter.]</p> +<p>"Why did you tell him?"</p> +<p>"I didn't give him anything but the bare fact. I want to see how +long it will take him to find out the rest."</p> +<p>The Place d'Armes offered amusement to every one else rather +than to the immigrant. The family relation, the most noticeable +feature of its' well-pleased groups, was to him too painful a +reminder of his late losses, and, after an honest endeavor to +flutter out of the inner twilight of himself into the outer glare +of a moving world, he had given up the effort and had passed beyond +the square and seated himself upon a rude bench which encircled the +trunk of a willow on the levee.</p> +<p>The negress, who, resting near by with a tray of cakes before +her, has been for some time contemplating the three-quarter face of +her unconscious neighbor, drops her head at last with a small, +Ethiopian, feminine laugh. It is a self-confession that, pleasant +as the study of his countenance is, to resolve that study into +knowledge is beyond her powers; and very pardonably so it is, she +being but a <i>marchande des gâteaux</i> (an itinerant +cake-vender), and he, she concludes, a man of parts. There is a +purpose, too, as well as an admission, in the laugh. She would like +to engage him in conversation. But he does not notice. Little +supposing he is the object of even a cake-merchant's attention, he +is lost in idle meditation.</p> +<p>One would guess his age to be as much as twenty-six. His face is +beardless, of course, like almost everybody's around him, and of a +German kind of seriousness. A certain diffidence in his look may +tend to render him unattractive to careless eyes, the more so since +he has a slight appearance of self-neglect. On a second glance, his +refinement shows out more distinctly, and one also sees that he is +not shabby. The little that seems lacking is woman's care, the +brush of attentive fingers here and there, the turning of a fold in +the high-collared coat, and a mere touch on the neckerchief and +shirt-frill. He has a decidedly good forehead. His blue eyes, while +they are both strong and modest, are noticeable, too, as betraying +fatigue, and the shade of gravity in them is deepened by a certain +worn look of excess--in books; a most unusual look in New Orleans +in those days, and pointedly out of keeping with the scene which +was absorbing his attention.</p> +<p>You might mistake the time for mid-May. Before the view lies the +Place d'Armes in its green-breasted uniform of new spring grass +crossed diagonally with white shell walks for facings, and dotted +with the <i>élite</i> of the city for decorations. Over the +line of shade-trees which marks its farther boundary, the +white-topped twin turrets of St. Louis Cathedral look across it and +beyond the bared site of the removed battery (built by the busy +Carondelet to protect Louisiana from herself and Kentucky, and +razed by his immediate successors) and out upon the Mississippi, +the color of whose surface is beginning to change with the changing +sky of this beautiful and now departing day. A breeze, which is +almost early June, and which has been hovering over the bosom of +the great river and above the turf-covered levee, ceases, as if it +sank exhausted under its burden of spring odors, and in the +profound calm the cathedral bell strikes the sunset hour. From its +neighboring garden, the convent of the Ursulines responds in a tone +of devoutness, while from the parapet of the less pious little Fort +St. Charles, the evening gun sends a solemn ejaculation rumbling +down the "coast;" a drum rolls, the air rises again from the water +like a flock of birds, and many in the square and on the levee's +crown turn and accept its gentle blowing. Rising over the levee +willows, and sinking into the streets,--which are lower than the +water,--it flutters among the balconies and in and out of dim +Spanish arcades, and finally drifts away toward that part of the +sky where the sun is sinking behind the low, unbroken line of +forest. There is such seduction in the evening air, such sweetness +of flowers on its every motion, such lack of cold, or heat, or +dust, or wet, that the people have no heart to stay in-doors; nor +is there any reason why they should. The levee road is dotted with +horsemen, and the willow avenue on the levee's crown, the whole +short mile between Terre aux Boeufs gate on the right and +Tchoupitoulas gate on the left, is bright with promenaders, +although the hour is brief and there will be no twilight; for, so +far from being May, it is merely that same nineteenth of which we +have already spoken,--the nineteenth of Louisiana's delicious +February.</p> +<p>Among the throng were many whose names were going to be written +large in history. There was Casa Calvo,--Sebastian de Casa Calvo de +la Puerta y O'Farril, Marquis of Casa Calvo,--a man then at the +fine age of fifty-three, elegant, fascinating, perfect in Spanish +courtesy and Spanish diplomacy, rolling by in a showy equipage +surrounded by a clanking body-guard of the Catholic king's cavalry. +There was young Daniel Clark, already beginning to amass those +riches which an age of litigation has not to this day consumed; it +was he whom the French colonial prefect, Laussat, in a late letter +to France, had extolled as a man whose "talents for intrigue were +carried to a rare degree of excellence." There was Laussat himself, +in the flower of his years, sour with pride, conscious of great +official insignificance and full of petty spites--he yet tarried in +a land where his beautiful wife was the "model of taste." There was +that convivial old fox, Wilkinson, who had plotted for years with +Miro and did not sell himself and his country to Spain because--as +we now say--"he found he could do better;" who modestly confessed +himself in a traitor's letter to the Spanish king as a man "whose +head may err, but whose heart cannot deceive!" and who brought +Governor Gayoso to an early death-bed by simply out-drinking him. +There also was Edward Livingston, attorney-at-law, inseparably +joined to the mention of the famous Batture cases--though that was +later. There also was that terror of colonial peculators, the old +ex-Intendant Morales, who, having quarrelled with every governor of +Louisiana he ever saw, was now snarling at Casa Calvo from force of +habit.</p> +<p>And the Creoles--the Knickerbockers of Louisiana--but time would +fail us. The Villeres and Destrehans--patriots and patriots' sons; +the De La Chaise family in mourning for young Auguste La Chaise of +Kentuckian-Louisianian-San Domingan history; the Livaudaises, +<i>père et fils</i>, of Haunted House fame, descendants of +the first pilot of the Belize; the pirate brothers Lafitte, moving +among the best; Marigny de Mandeville, afterwards the marquis +member of Congress; the Davezacs, the Mossys, the Boulignys, the +Labatuts, the Bringiers, the De Trudeaus, the De Macartys, the De +la Houssayes, the De Lavilleboeuvres, the Grandprés, the +Forstalls; and the proselyted Creoles: Étienne de +Boré (he was the father of all such as handle the +sugar-kettle); old man Pitot, who became mayor; Madame Pontalba and +her unsuccessful suitor, John McDonough; the three Girods, the two +Graviers, or the lone Julian Poydras, godfather of orphan girls. +Besides these, and among them as shining fractions of the +community, the numerous representatives of the not only noble, but +noticeable and ubiquitous, family of Grandissime: Grandissimes +simple and Grandissimes compound; Brahmins, Mandarins and +Fusiliers. One, 'Polyte by name, a light, gay fellow, with classic +features, hair turning gray, is standing and conversing with this +group here by the mock-cannon inclosure of the grounds. Another, +his cousin, Charlie Mandarin, a tall, very slender, bronzed +gentleman in a flannel hunting-shirt and buckskin leggings, is +walking, in moccasins, with a sweet lady in whose tasteful attire +feminine scrutiny, but such only, might detect economy, but whose +marked beauty of yesterday is retreating and reappearing in the +flock of children who are noisily running round and round them, +nominally in the care of three fat and venerable black nurses. +Another, yonder, Théophile Grandissime, is whipping his +stockings with his cane, a lithe youngster in the height of the +fashion (be it understood the fashion in New Orleans was five years +or so behind Paris), with a joyous, noble face, a merry tongue and +giddy laugh, and a confession of experiences which these pages, +fortunately for their moral tone, need not recount. All these were +there and many others.</p> +<p>This throng, shifting like the fragments of colored glass in the +kaleidoscope, had its far-away interest to the contemplative +Joseph. To them he was of little interest, or none. Of the many +passers, scarcely an occasional one greeted him, and such only with +an extremely polite and silent dignity which seemed to him like +saying something of this sort: "Most noble alien, give you +good-day--stay where you are. Profoundly yours--"</p> +<p>Two men came through the Place d'Armes on conspicuously fine +horses. One it is not necessary to describe. The other, a man of +perhaps thirty-three or thirty-four years of age, was extremely +handsome and well dressed, the martial fashion of the day showing +his tall and finely knit figure to much advantage. He sat his horse +with an uncommon grace, and, as he rode beside his companion, spoke +and gave ear by turns with an easy dignity sufficient of itself to +have attracted popular observation. It was the apothecary's unknown +friend. Frowenfeld noticed them while they were yet in the middle +of the grounds. He could hardly have failed to do so, for some one +close beside his bench in undoubted allusion to one of the +approaching figures exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Here comes Honoré Grandissime."</p> +<p>Moreover, at that moment there was a slight unwonted stir on the +Place d'Armes. It began at the farther corner of the square, hard +by the Principal, and spread so quickly through the groups near +about, that in a minute the entire company were quietly made aware +of something going notably wrong in their immediate presence. There +was no running to see it. There seemed to be not so much as any +verbal communication of the matter from mouth to mouth. Rather a +consciousness appeared to catch noiselessly from one to another as +the knowledge of human intrusion comes to groups of deer in a park. +There was the same elevating of the head here and there, the same +rounding of beautiful eyes. Some stared, others slowly approached, +while others turned and moved away; but a common indignation was in +the breast of that thing dreadful everywhere, but terrible in +Louisiana, the Majority. For there, in the presence of those good +citizens, before the eyes of the proudest and fairest mothers and +daughters of New Orleans, glaringly, on the open Plaza, the Creole +whom Joseph had met by the graves in the field, Honoré +Grandissime, the uttermost flower on the topmost branch of the +tallest family tree ever transplanted from France to Louisiana, +Honoré,--the worshiped, the magnificent,--in the broad light +of the sun's going down, rode side by side with the Yankee governor +and was not ashamed!</p> +<p>Joseph, on his bench, sat contemplating the two parties to this +scandal as they came toward him. Their horses' flanks were damp +from some pleasant gallop, but their present gait was the soft, +mettlesome movement of animals who will even submit to walk if +their masters insist. As they wheeled out of the broad diagonal +path that crossed the square, and turned toward him in the highway, +he fancied that the Creole observed him. He was not mistaken. As +they seemed about to pass the spot where he sat, M. Grandissime +interrupted the governor with a word and, turning his horse's head, +rode up to the bench, lifting his hat as he came.</p> +<p>"Good-evening, Mr. Frowenfeld."</p> +<p>Joseph, looking brighter than when he sat unaccosted, rose and +blushed.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, you know my uncle very well, I +believe--Agricole Fusilier--long beard?"</p> +<p>"Oh! yes, sir, certainly."</p> +<p>"Well, Mr. Frowenfeld, I shall be much obliged if you will tell +him--that is, should you meet him this evening--that I wish to see +him. If you will be so kind?"</p> +<p>"Oh! yes, sir, certainly."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's diffidence made itself evident in this reiterated +phrase.</p> +<p>"I do not know that you will see him, but if you should, you +know--"</p> +<p>"Oh, certainly, sir!"</p> +<p>The two paused a single instant, exchanging a smile of amiable +reminder from the horseman and of bashful but pleased +acknowledgment from the one who saw his precepts being reduced to +practice.</p> +<p>"Well, good-evening, Mr. Frowenfeld."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime lifted his hat and turned. Frowenfeld sat +down.</p> +<p>"<i>Bou zou, Miché Honoré!</i>" called the +<i>marchande</i>.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment to yé, Clemence?</i>"</p> +<p>The merchant waved his hand as he rode away with his +companion.</p> +<p>"<i>Beau Miché, là</i>," said the +<i>marchande</i>, catching Joseph's eye.</p> +<p>He smiled his ignorance and shook his head.</p> +<p>"Dass one fine gen'leman," she repeated. "<i>Mo pa'lé +Anglé</i>," she added with a chuckle.</p> +<p>"You know him?"</p> +<p>"Oh! yass, sah; Mawse Honoré knows me, yass. All de +gen'lemens knows me. I sell de <i>calas;</i> mawnin's sell +<i>calas</i>, evenin's sell zinzer-cake. <i>You</i> know me" (a +fact which Joseph had all along been aware of). "Dat me w'at pass +in rue Royale ev'y mawnin' holl'in' '<i>Bé calas touts +chauds</i>,' an' singin'; don't you know?"</p> +<p>The enthusiasm of an artist overcame any timidity she might have +been supposed to possess, and, waiving the formality of an +invitation, she began, to Frowenfeld's consternation, to sing, in a +loud, nasal voice.</p> +<p>But the performance, long familiar, attracted no public +attention, and he for whose special delight it was intended had +taken an attitude of disclaimer and was again contemplating the +quiet groups of the Place d'Armes and the pleasant hurry of the +levee road.</p> +<p>"Don't you know?" persisted the woman. "Yass, sah, dass me; I's +Clemence."</p> +<p>But Frowenfeld was looking another way.</p> +<p>"You know my boy," suddenly said she.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld looked at her.</p> +<p>"Yass, sah. Dat boy w'at bring you de box of <i>basilic</i> lass +Chrismus; dass my boy."</p> +<p>She straightened her cakes on the tray and made some changes in +their arrangement that possibly were important.</p> +<p>"I learned to speak English in Fijinny. Bawn dah."</p> +<p>She looked steadily into the apothecary's absorbed countenance +for a full minute, then let her eyes wander down the highway. The +human tide was turning cityward. Presently she spoke again.</p> +<p>"Folks comin' home a'ready, yass."</p> +<p>Her hearer looked down the road.</p> +<p>Suddenly a voice that, once heard, was always known,--deep and +pompous, as if a lion roared,--sounded so close behind him as to +startle him half from his seat.</p> +<p>"Is this a corporeal man, or must I doubt my eyes? Hah! +Professor Frowenfeld!" it said.</p> +<p>"Mr. Fusilier!" exclaimed Frowenfeld in a subdued voice, while +he blushed again and looked at the new-comer with that sort of awe +which children experience in a menagerie.</p> +<p>"<i>Citizen</i> Fusilier," said the lion.</p> +<p>Agricola indulged to excess the grim hypocrisy of brandishing +the catchwords of new-fangled reforms; they served to spice a +breath that was strong with the praise of the "superior liberties +of Europe,"--those old, cast-iron tyrannies to get rid of which +America was settled.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld smiled amusedly and apologetically at the same +moment.</p> +<p>"I am glad to meet you. I--"</p> +<p>He was going on to give Honoré Grandissime's message, but +was interrupted.</p> +<p>"My young friend," rumbled the old man in his deepest key, +smiling emotionally and holding and solemning continuing to shake +Joseph's hand, "I am sure you are. You ought to thank God that you +have my acquaintance."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld colored to the temples.</p> +<p>"I must acknowledge--" he began.</p> +<p>"Ah!" growled the lion, "your beautiful modesty leads you to +misconstrue me, sir. You pay my judgment no compliment. I know your +worth, sir; I merely meant, sir, that in me--poor, humble me--you +have secured a sympathizer in your tastes and plans. Agricola +Fusilier, sir, is not a cock on a dunghill, to find a jewel and +then scratch it aside."</p> +<p>The smile of diffidence, but not the flush, passed from the +young man's face, and he sat down forcibly.</p> +<p>"You jest," he said.</p> +<p>The reply was a majestic growl.</p> +<p>"I <i>never</i> jest!" The speaker half sat down, then +straightened up again. "Ah, the Marquis of Caso Calvo!--I must bow +to him, though an honest man's bow is more than he deserves."</p> +<p>"More than he deserves?" was Frowenfeld's query.</p> +<p>"More than he deserves!" was the response.</p> +<p>"What has he done? I have never heard----"</p> +<p>The denunciator turned upon Frowenfeld his most royal frown, and +retorted with a question which still grows wild in Louisiana:</p> +<p>"What"--he seemed to shake his mane--"what has he <i>not</i> +done, sir?" and then he withdrew his frown slowly, as if to add, +"You'll be careful next time how you cast doubt upon a public +official's guilt."</p> +<p>The marquis's cavalcade came briskly jingling by. Frowenfeld saw +within the carriage two men, one in citizen's dress, the other in a +brilliant uniform. The latter leaned forward, and, with a +cordiality which struck the young spectator as delightful, bowed. +The immigrant glanced at Citizen Fusilier, expecting to see the +greeting returned with great haughtiness; instead of which that +person uncovered his leonine head, and, with a solemn sweep of his +cocked hat, bowed half his length. Nay, he more than bowed, he +bowed down--so that the action hurt Frowenfeld from head to +foot.</p> +<p>"What large gentlemen was that sitting on the other side?" asked +the young man, as his companion sat down with the air of having +finished an oration.</p> +<p>"No gentleman at all!" thundered the citizen. "That fellow" +(beetling frown), "that <i>fellow</i> is Edward Livingston."</p> +<p>"The great lawyer?"</p> +<p>"The great villain!"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld himself frowned.</p> +<p>The old man laid a hand upon his junior's shoulder and growled +benignantly:</p> +<p>"My young friend, your displeasure delights me!"</p> +<p>The patience with which Frowenfeld was bearing all this forced a +chuckle and shake of the head from the <i>marchande</i>.</p> +<p>Citizen Fusilier went on speaking in a manner that might be +construed either as address or soliloquy, gesticulating much and +occasionally letting out a fervent word that made passers look +around and Joseph inwardly wince. With eyes closed and hands folded +on the top of the knotted staff which he carried but never used, he +delivered an apostrophe to the "spotless soul of youth," enticed by +the "spirit of adventure" to "launch away upon the unploughed sea +of the future!" He lifted one hand and smote the back of the other +solemnly, once, twice, and again, nodding his head faintly several +times without opening his eyes, as who should say, "Very +impressive; go on," and so resumed; spoke of this spotless soul of +youth searching under unknown latitudes for the "sunken treasures +of experience"; indulged, as the reporters of our day would say, in +"many beautiful nights of rhetoric," and finally depicted the +loathing with which the spotless soul of youth "recoils!"--suiting +the action to the word so emphatically as to make a pretty little +boy who stood gaping at him start back--"on encountering in the +holy chambers of public office the vultures hatched in the nests of +ambition and avarice!"</p> +<p>Three or four persons lingered carelessly near by with ears wide +open. Frowenfeld felt that he must bring this to an end, and, like +any young person who has learned neither deceit nor disrespect to +seniors, he attempted to reason it down.</p> +<p>"You do not think many of our public men are dishonest!"</p> +<p>"Sir!" replied the rhetorician, with a patronizing smile, "h-you +must be thinking of France!"</p> +<p>"No, sir; of Louisiana."</p> +<p>"Louisiana! Dishonest? All, sir, all. They are all as corrupt as +Olympus, sir!"</p> +<p>"Well," said Frowenfeld, with more feeling than was called for, +"there is one who, I feel sure, is pure. I know it by his +face!"</p> +<p>The old man gave a look of stern interrogation.</p> +<p>"Governor Claiborne."</p> +<p>"Ye-e-e g-hods! Claiborne! <i>Claiborne!</i> Why, he is a +Yankee!"</p> +<p>The lion glowered over the lamb like a thundercloud.</p> +<p>"He is a Virginian," said Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"He is an American, and no American can be honest."</p> +<p>"You are prejudiced," exclaimed the young man.</p> +<p>Citizen Fusilier made himself larger.</p> +<p>"What is prejudice? I do not know."</p> +<p>"I am an American myself," said Frowenfeld, rising up with his +face burning.</p> +<p>The citizen rose up also, but unruffled.</p> +<p>"My beloved young friend," laying his hand heavily upon the +other's shoulder, "you are not. You were merely born in +America."</p> +<p>But Frowenfeld was not appeased.</p> +<p>"Hear me through," persisted the flatterer. "You were merely +born in America. I, too, was born in America--but will any man +responsible for his opinion mistake me--Agricola Fusilier--for an +American?"</p> +<p>He clutched his cane in the middle and glared around, but no +person seemed to be making the mistake to which he so scornfully +alluded, and he was about to speak again when an outcry of alarm +coming simultaneously from Joseph and the <i>marchande</i> directed +his attention to a lady in danger.</p> +<p>The scene, as afterward recalled to the mind of the un-American +citizen, included the figures of his nephew and the new governor +returning up the road at a canter; but, at the time, he knew only +that a lady of unmistakable gentility, her back toward him, had +just gathered her robes and started to cross the road, when there +was a general cry of warning, and the <i>marchande</i> cried, +"<i>Garde choual!</i>" while the lady leaped directly into the +danger and his nephew's horse knocked her to the earth!</p> +<p>Though there was a rush to the rescue from every direction, she +was on her feet before any one could reach her, her lips +compressed, nostrils dilated, cheek burning, and eyes flashing a +lady's wrath upon a dismounted horseman. It was the governor. As +the crowd had rushed in, the startled horses, from whom the two +riders had instantly leaped, drew violently back, jerking their +masters with them and leaving only the governor in range of the +lady's angry eye.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle!" he cried, striving to reach her.</p> +<p>She pointed him in gasping indignation to his empty saddle, and, +as the crowd farther separated them, waved away all permission to +apologize and turned her back.</p> +<p>"Hah!" cried the crowd, echoing her humor.</p> +<p>"Lady," interposed the governor, "do not drive us to the +rudeness of leaving--"</p> +<p>"<i>Animal, vous!</i>" cried half a dozen, and the lady gave him +such a look of scorn that he did not finish his sentence.</p> +<p>"Open the way, there," called a voice in French.</p> +<p>It was Honoré Grandissime. But just then he saw that the +lady had found the best of protectors, and the two horsemen, having +no choice, remounted and rode away. As they did so, M. Grandissime +called something hurriedly to Frowenfeld, on whose arm the lady +hung, concerning the care of her; but his words were lost in the +short yell of derision sent after himself and his companion by the +crowd.</p> +<p>Old Agricola, meanwhile, was having a trouble of his own. He had +followed Joseph's wake as he pushed through the throng; but as the +lady turned her face he wheeled abruptly away. This brought again +into view the bench he had just left, whereupon he, in turn, cried +out, and, dashing through all obstructions, rushed back to it, +lifting his ugly staff as he went and flourishing it in the face of +Palmyre Philosophe.</p> +<p>She stood beside the seat with the smile of one foiled and +intensely conscious of peril, but neither frightened nor suppliant, +holding back with her eyes the execution of Agricola's threat +against her life.</p> +<p>Presently she drew a short step backward, then another, then a +third, and then turned and moved away down the avenue of willows, +followed for a few steps by the lion and by the laughing comment of +the <i>marchande</i>, who stood looking after them with her tray +balanced on her head.</p> +<p>"<i>Ya, ya! ye connais voudou bien!</i><a name= +"FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1">[1]</a>"</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a> +"They're up in the voudou arts."</blockquote> +<p>The old man turned to rejoin his companion. The day was rapidly +giving place to night and the people were withdrawing to their +homes. He crossed the levee, passed through the Place d'Armes and +on into the city without meeting the object of his search. For +Joseph and the lady had hurried off together.</p> +<p>As the populace floated away in knots of three, four and five, +those who had witnessed mademoiselle's (?) mishap told it to those +who had not; explaining that it was the accursed Yankee governor +who had designedly driven his horse at his utmost speed against the +fair victim (some of them butted against their hearers by way of +illustration); that the fiend had then maliciously laughed; that +this was all the Yankees came to New Orleans for, and that there +was an understanding among them--"Understanding, indeed!" exclaimed +one, "They have instructions from the President!"--that unprotected +ladies should be run down wherever overtaken. If you didn't believe +it you could ask the tyrant, Claiborne, himself; he made no secret +of it. One or two--but they were considered by others +extravagant--testified that, as the lady fell, they had seen his +face distorted with a horrid delight, and had heard him cry: "Daz +de way to knog them!"</p> +<p>"But how came a lady to be out on the levee, at sunset, on foot +and alone?" asked a citizen, and another replied--both using the +French of the late province:</p> +<p>"As for being on foot"--a shrug. "But she was not alone; she had +a <i>milatraisse</i> behind her."</p> +<p>"Ah! so; that was well."</p> +<p>"But--ha, ha!--the <i>milatraisse</i>, seeing her mistress out +of danger, takes the opportunity to try to bring the curse upon +Agricola Fusilier by sitting down where he had just risen up, and +had to get away from him as quickly as possible to save her own +skull."</p> +<p>"And left the lady?"</p> +<p>"Yes; and who took her to her home at last, but Frowenfeld, the +apothecary!"</p> +<p>"Ho, ho! the astrologer! We ought to hang that fellow."</p> +<p>"With his books tied to his feet," suggested a third citizen. +"It is no more than we owe to the community to go and smash his +show-window. He had better behave himself. Come, gentlemen, a +little <i>taffia</i> will do us good. When shall we ever get +through these exciting times?"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>STARLIGHT IN THE RUE CHARTRES</h3> +<br> +<p>"Oh! M'sieur Frowenfel', tague me ad home!"</p> +<p>It was Aurora, who caught the apothecary's arm vehemently in +both her hands with a look of beautiful terror. And whatever +Joseph's astronomy might have previously taught him to the +contrary, he knew by his senses that the earth thereupon turned +entirely over three times in two seconds.</p> +<p>His confused response, though unintelligible, answered all +purposes, as the lady found herself the next moment hurrying across +the Place d'Armes close to his side, and as they by-and-by passed +its farther limits she began to be conscious that she was clinging +to her protector as though she would climb up and hide under his +elbow. As they turned up the rue Chartres she broke the +silence.</p> +<p>"Oh!-h!"--breathlessly,--"'h!--M'sieur Frowenf'--you walkin' so +faz!"</p> +<p>"Oh!" echoed Frowenfeld, "I did not know what I was doing."</p> +<p>"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the lady, "me, too, juz de sem lag you! +<i>attendez</i>; wait."</p> +<p>They halted; a moment's deft manipulation of a veil turned it +into a wrapping for her neck.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', oo dad man was? You know 'im?"</p> +<p>She returned her hand to Frowenfeld's arm and they moved on.</p> +<p>"The one who spoke to you, or--you know the one who got near +enough to apologize is not the one whose horse struck you!"</p> +<p>"I din know. But oo dad odder one? I saw h-only 'is back, bud I +thing it is de sem--"</p> +<p>She identified it with the back that was turned to her during +her last visit to Frowenfeld's shop; but finding herself about to +mention a matter so nearly connected with the purse of gold, she +checked herself; but Frowenfeld, eager to say a good word for his +acquaintance, ventured to extol his character while he concealed +his name.</p> +<p>"While I have never been introduced to him, I have some +acquaintance with him, and esteem him a noble gentleman."</p> +<p>"W'ere you meet him?"</p> +<p>"I met him first," he said, "at the graves of my parents and +sisters."</p> +<p>There was a kind of hush after the mention, and the lady made no +reply.</p> +<p>"It was some weeks after my loss," resumed Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"In wad <i>cimetière</i> dad was?"</p> +<p>"In no cemetery--being Protestants, you know--"</p> +<p>"Ah, yes, sir?" with a gentle sigh.</p> +<p>"The physician who attended me procured permission to bury them +on some private land below the city."</p> +<p>"Not in de groun'<a name="FNanchor2"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_2">[2]</a>?"</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a> +Only Jews and paupers are buried in the ground in New +Orleans.</blockquote> +<p>"Yes; that was my father's expressed wish when he died."</p> +<p>"You 'ad de fivver? Oo nurse you w'en you was sick?"</p> +<p>"An old hired negress."</p> +<p>"Dad was all?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Hm-m-m!" she said piteously, and laughed in her sleeve.</p> +<p>Who could hope to catch and reproduce the continuous lively +thrill which traversed the frame of the escaped book-worm as every +moment there was repeated to his consciousness the knowledge that +he was walking across the vault of heaven with the evening star on +his arm--at least, that he was, at her instigation, killing time +along the dim, ill-lighted <i>trottoirs</i> of the rue Chartres, +with Aurora listening sympathetically at his side. But let it go; +also the sweet broken English with which she now and then +interrupted him; also the inward, hidden sparkle of her dancing +Gallic blood; her low, merry laugh; the roguish mental reservation +that lurked behind her graver speeches; the droll bravados she +uttered against the powers that be, as with timid fingers he +brushed from her shoulder a little remaining dust of the late +encounter--these things, we say, we let go,--as we let butterflies +go rather than pin them to paper.</p> +<p>They had turned into the rue Bienville, and were walking toward +the river, Frowenfeld in the midst of a long sentence, when a low +cry of tearful delight sounded in front of them, some one in long +robes glided forward, and he found his arm relieved of its burden +and that burden transferred to the bosom and passionate embrace of +another--we had almost said a fairer--Creole, amid a bewildering +interchange of kisses and a pelting shower of Creole French.</p> +<p>A moment after, Frowenfeld found himself introduced to "my +dotter, Clotilde," who all at once ceased her demonstrations of +affection and bowed to him with a majestic sweetness, that seemed +one instant grateful and the next, distant.</p> +<p>"I can hardly understand that you are not sisters," said +Frowenfeld, a little awkwardly.</p> +<p>"Ah! <i>ecoutez!</i>" exclaimed the younger.</p> +<p>"Ah! <i>par exemple!</i>" cried the elder, and they laughed down +each other's throats, while the immigrant blushed.</p> +<p>This encounter was presently followed by a silent surprise when +they stopped and turned before the door of Number 19, and +Frowenfeld contrasted the women with their painfully humble +dwelling. But therein is where your true Creole was, and still +continues to be, properly, yea, delightfully un-American; the +outside of his house may be as rough as the outside of a bird's +nest; it is the inside that is for the birds; and the front room of +this house, when the daughter presently threw open the batten +shutters of its single street door, looked as bright and happy, +with its candelabra glittering on the mantel, and its curtains of +snowy lace, as its bright-eyed tenants.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', if you pliz to come in," said Aurora, and +the timid apothecary would have bravely accepted the invitation, +but for a quick look which he saw the daughter give the mother; +whereupon he asked, instead, permission to call at some future day, +and received the cordial leave of Aurora and another bow from +Clotilde.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>THAT NIGHT</h3> +<br> +<p>Do we not fail to accord to our nights their true value? We are +ever giving to our days the credit and blame of all we do and +mis-do, forgetting those silent, glimmering hours when plans--and +sometimes plots--are laid; when resolutions are formed or changed; +when heaven, and sometimes heaven's enemies, are invoked; when +anger and evil thoughts are recalled, and sometimes hate made to +inflame and fester; when problems are solved, riddles guessed, and +things made apparent in the dark, which day refused to reveal. Our +nights are the keys to our days. They explain them. They are also +the day's correctors. Night's leisure untangles the mistakes of +day's haste. We should not attempt to comprise our pasts in the +phrase, "in those days;" we should rather say "in those days and +nights."</p> +<p>That night was a long-remembered one to the apothecary of the +rue Royale. But it was after he had closed his shop, and in his +back room sat pondering the unusual experiences of the evening, +that it began to be, in a higher degree, a night of events to most +of those persons who had a part in its earlier incidents.</p> +<p>That Honoré Grandissime whom Frowenfeld had only this day +learned to know as <i>the</i> Honoré Grandissime and the +young governor-general were closeted together.</p> +<p>"What can you expect, my-de'-seh?" the Creole was asking, as +they confronted each other in the smoke of their choice tobacco. +"Remember, they are citizens by compulsion. You say your best and +wisest law is that one prohibiting the slave-trade; my-de'-seh, I +assure you, privately, I agree with you; but they abhor your +law!</p> +<p>"Your principal danger--at least, I mean difficulty--is this: +that the Louisianais themselves, some in pure lawlessness, some +through loss of office, some in a vague hope of preserving the old +condition of things, will not only hold off from all participation +in your government, but will make all sympathy with it, all +advocacy of its principles, and especially all office-holding under +it, odious--disreputable--infamous. You may find yourself +constrained to fill your offices with men who can face down the +contumely of a whole people. You know what such men generally are. +One out of a hundred may be a moral hero--the ninety-nine will be +scamps; and the moral hero will most likely get his brains blown +out early in the day.</p> +<p>"Count O'Reilly, when he established the Spanish power here +thirty-five years ago, cut a similar knot with the executioner's +sword; but, my-de'-seh, you are here to establish a <i>free</i> +government; and how can you make it freer than the people wish it? +There is your riddle! They hold off and say, 'Make your government +as free as you can, but do not ask us to help you;' and before you +know it you have no retainers but a gang of shameless mercenaries, +who will desert you whenever the indignation of this people +overbalances their indolence; and you will fall the victim of what +you may call our mutinous patriotism."</p> +<p>The governor made a very quiet, unappreciative remark about a +"patriotism that lets its government get choked up with corruption +and then blows it out with gunpowder!"</p> +<p>The Creole shrugged.</p> +<p>"And repeats the operation indefinitely," he said.</p> +<p>The governor said something often heard, before and since, to +the effect that communities will not sacrifice themselves for mere +ideas.</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh," replied the Creole, "you speak like a true +Anglo-Saxon; but, sir! how many communities have <i>committed</i> +suicide. And this one?--why, it is <i>just</i> the kind to do +it!"</p> +<p>"Well," said the governor, smilingly, "you have pointed out what +you consider to be the breakers, now can you point out the +channel?"</p> +<p>"Channel? There is none! And you, nor I, cannot dig one. Two +great forces <i>may</i> ultimately do it, Religion and +Education--as I was telling you I said to my young friend, the +apothecary,--but still I am free to say what would be my first and +principal step, if I was in your place--as I thank God I am +not."</p> +<p>The listener asked him what that was.</p> +<p>"Wherever I could find a Creole that I could venture to trust, +my-de'-seh, I would put him in office. Never mind a little +political heterodoxy, you know; almost any man can be trusted to +shoot away from the uniform he has on. And then--"</p> +<p>"But," said the other, "I have offered you--"</p> +<p>"Oh!" replied the Creole, like a true merchant, "me, I am too +busy; it is impossible! But, I say, I would <i>compel</i>, +my-de'-seh, this people to govern themselves!"</p> +<p>"And pray, how would you give a people a free government and +then compel them to administer it?"</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh, you should not give one poor Creole the puzzle +which belongs to your whole Congress; but you may depend on this, +that the worst thing for all parties--and I say it only because it +is worst for all--would be a feeble and dilatory punishment of bad +faith."</p> +<p>When this interview finally drew to a close the governor had +made a memorandum of some fifteen or twenty Grandissimes, scattered +through different cantons of Louisiana, who, their kinsman +Honoré thought, would not decline appointments.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Certain of the Muses were abroad that night. Faintly audible to +the apothecary of the rue Royale through that deserted stillness +which is yet the marked peculiarity of New Orleans streets by +night, came from a neighboring slave-yard the monotonous chant and +machine-like tune-beat of an African dance. There our lately met +<i>marchande</i> (albeit she was but a guest, fortified against the +street-watch with her master's written "pass") led the ancient +Calinda dance with that well-known song of derision, in whose ever +multiplying stanzas the helpless satire of a feeble race still +continues to celebrate the personal failings of each newly +prominent figure among the dominant caste. There was a new distich +to the song to-night, signifying that the pride of the Grandissimes +must find his friends now among the Yankees:</p> +<blockquote>"Miché Hon'ré, allé! +h-allé!<br> +Trouvé to zamis parmi les Yankis.<br> +Dancé calinda, bou-joum! bou-joum!<br> +Dancé calinda, bou-joum! bou-joum!</blockquote> +<p>Frowenfeld, as we have already said, had closed his shop, and +was sitting in the room behind it with one arm on his table and the +other on his celestial globe, watching the flicker of his small +fire and musing upon the unusual experiences of the evening. Upon +every side there seemed to start away from his turning glance the +multiplied shadows of something wrong. The melancholy face of that +Honoré Grandissime, his landlord, at whose mention Dr. Keene +had thought it fair to laugh without explaining; the tall, +bright-eyed <i>milatraisse</i>; old Agricola; the lady of the +basil; the newly identified merchant friend, now the more +satisfactory Honoré,--they all came before him in his +meditation, provoking among themselves a certain discord, faint but +persistent, to which he strove to close his ear. For he was +brain-weary. Even in the bright recollection of the lady and her +talk he became involved among shadows, and going from bad to worse, +seemed at length almost to gasp in an atmosphere of hints, +allusions, faint unspoken admissions, ill-concealed antipathies, +unfinished speeches, mistaken identities and whisperings of hidden +strife. The cathedral clock struck twelve and was answered again +from the convent belfry; and as the notes died away he suddenly +became aware that the weird, drowsy throb of the African song and +dance had been swinging drowsily in his brain for an unknown lapse +of time.</p> +<p>The apothecary nodded once or twice, and thereupon rose up and +prepared for bed, thinking to sleep till morning.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Aurora and her daughter had long ago put out their chamber +light. Early in the evening the younger had made favorable mention +of retiring, to which the elder replied by asking to be left awhile +to her own thoughts. Clotilde, after some tender protestations, +consented, and passed through the open door that showed, beyond it, +their couch. The air had grown just cool and humid enough to make +the warmth of one small brand on the hearth acceptable, and before +this the fair widow settled herself to gaze beyond her tiny, +slippered feet into its wavering flame, and think. Her thoughts +were such as to bestow upon her face that enhancement of beauty +that comes of pleasant reverie, and to make it certain that that +little city afforded no fairer sight,--unless, indeed, it was the +figure of Clotilde just beyond the open door, as in her white +nightdress, enriched with the work of a diligent needle, she knelt +upon the low <i>prie-Dieu</i> before the little family altar, and +committed her pure soul to the Divine keeping.</p> +<p>Clotilde could not have been many minutes asleep when Aurora +changed her mind and decided to follow. The shade upon her face had +deepened for a moment into a look of trouble; but a bright +philosophy, which was part of her paternal birthright, quickly +chased it away, and she passed to her room, disrobed, lay softly +down beside the beauty already there and smiled herself to +sleep,--</p> +<blockquote>"Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,<br> +As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again."</blockquote> +<p>But she also wakened again, and lay beside her unconscious +bedmate, occupied with the company of her own thoughts. "Why should +these little concealments ruffle my bosom? Does not even Nature +herself practise wiles? Look at the innocent birds; do they build +where everybody can count their eggs? And shall a poor human +creature try to be better than a bird? Didn't I say my prayers +under the blanket just now?"</p> +<p>Her companion stirred in her sleep, and she rose upon one elbow +to bend upon the sleeper a gaze of ardent admiration. "Ah, +beautiful little chick! how guileless! indeed, how deficient in +that respect!" She sat up in the bed and hearkened; the bell struck +for midnight. Was that the hour? The fates were smiling! Surely M. +Assonquer himself must have wakened her to so choice an +opportunity. She ought not to despise it. Now, by the application +of another and easily wrought charm, that darkened hour lately +spent with Palmyre would have, as it were, its colors set.</p> +<p>The night had grown much cooler. Stealthily, by degrees, she +rose and left the couch. The openings of the room were a window and +two doors, and these, with much caution, she contrived to open +without noise. None of them exposed her to the possibility of +public view. One door looked into the dim front room; the window +let in only a flood of moonlight over the top of a high house which +was without openings on that side; the other door revealed a +weed-grown back yard, and that invaluable protector, the cook's +hound, lying fast asleep.</p> +<p>In her night-clothes as she was, she stood a moment in the +centre of the chamber, then sank upon one knee, rapped the floor +gently but audibly thrice, rose, drew a step backward, sank upon +the other knee, rapped thrice, rose again, stepped backward, knelt +the third time, the third time rapped, and then, rising, murmured a +vow to pour upon the ground next day an oblation of champagne--then +closed the doors and window and crept back to bed. Then she knew +how cold she had become. It seemed as though her very marrow was +frozen. She was seized with such an uncontrollable shivering that +Clotilde presently opened her eyes, threw her arm about her +mother's neck, and said:</p> +<p>"Ah! my sweet mother, are you so cold?"</p> +<p>"The blanket was all off of me," said the mother, returning the +embrace, and the two sank into unconsciousness together.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Into slumber sank almost at the same moment Joseph Frowenfeld. +He awoke, not a great while later, to find himself standing in the +middle of the floor. Three or four men had shouted at once, and +three pistol-shots, almost in one instant, had resounded just +outside his shop. He had barely time to throw himself into half his +garments when the knocker sounded on his street door, and when he +opened it Agricola Fusilier entered, supported by his nephew +Honoré on one side and Doctor Keene on the other. The +latter's right hand was pressed hard against a bloody place in +Agricola's side.</p> +<p>"Give us plenty of light, Frowenfeld," said the doctor, "and a +chair and some lint, and some Castile soap, and some towels and +sticking-plaster, and anything else you can think of. Agricola's +about scared to death--"</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld," groaned the aged citizen, "I am basely +and mortally stabbed!"</p> +<p>"Right on, Frowenfeld," continued the doctor, "right on into the +back room. Fasten that front door. Here, Agricola, sit down here. +That's right, Frow., stir up a little fire. Give me--never mind, +I'll just cut the cloth open."</p> +<p>There was a moment of silent suspense while the wound was being +reached, and then the doctor spoke again.</p> +<p>"Just as I thought; only a safe and comfortable gash that will +keep you in-doors a while with your arm in a sling. You are more +scared than hurt, I think, old gentleman."</p> +<p>"You think an infernal falsehood, sir!"</p> +<p>"See here, sir," said the doctor, without ceasing to ply his +dexterous hands in his art, "I'll jab these scissors into your back +if you say that again."</p> +<p>"I suppose," growled the "citizen," "it is just the thing your +professional researches have qualified you for, sir!"</p> +<p>"Just stand here, Mr. Frowenfeld," said the little doctor, +settling down to a professional tone, "and hand me things as I ask +for them. Honoré, please hold this arm; so." And so, after a +moderate lapse of time, the treatment that medical science of those +days dictated was applied--whatever that was. Let those who do not +know give thanks.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime explained to Frowenfeld what had occurred.</p> +<p>"You see, I succeeded in meeting my uncle, and we went together +to my office. My uncle keeps his accounts with me. Sometimes we +look them over. We stayed until midnight; I dismissed my carriage. +As we walked homeward we met some friends coming out of the rooms +of the Bagatelle Club; five or six of my uncles and cousins, and +also Doctor Keene. We all fell a-talking of my grandfather's +<i>fête de grandpère</i> of next month, and went to +have some coffee. When we separated, and my uncle and my cousin +Achille Grandissime and Doctor Keene and myself came down Royal +street, out from that dark alley behind your shop jumped a little +man and stuck my uncle with a knife. If I had not caught his arm he +would have killed my uncle."</p> +<p>"And he escaped," said the apothecary.</p> +<p>"No, sir!" said Agricola, with his back turned.</p> +<p>"I think he did. I do not think he was struck."</p> +<p>"And Mr.----, your cousin?"</p> +<p>"Achille? I have sent him for a carriage."</p> +<p>"Why, Agricola," said the doctor, snipping the loose ravellings +from his patient's bandages, "an old man like you should not have +enemies."</p> +<p>"I am <i>not</i> an old man, sir!"</p> +<p>"I said <i>young</i> man."</p> +<p>"I am not a <i>young</i> man, sir!"</p> +<p>"I wonder who the fellow was," continued Doctor Keene, as he +readjusted the ripped sleeve.</p> +<p>"That is <i>my</i> affair, sir; I know who it was."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"And yet she insists," M. Grandissime was asking Frowenfeld, +standing with his leg thrown across the celestial globe, "that I +knocked her down intentionally?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, about to answer, was interrupted by a rap on the +door.</p> +<p>"That is my cousin, with the carriage," said M. Grandissime, +following the apothecary into the shop.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld opened to a young man,--a rather poor specimen of the +Grandissime type, deficient in stature but not in stage manner.</p> +<p>"<i>Est il mort</i>?" he cried at the threshold.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, let me make you acquainted with my cousin, +Achille Grandissime."</p> +<p>Mr. Achille Grandissime gave Frowenfeld such a bow as we see now +only in pictures.</p> +<p>"Ve'y 'appe to meck, yo' acquaintenz!"</p> +<p>Agricola entered, followed by the doctor, and demanded in +indignant thunder-tones, as he entered:</p> +<p>"Who--ordered--that--carriage?"</p> +<p>"I did," said Honoré. "Will you please get into it at +once."</p> +<p>"Ah! dear Honoré!" exclaimed the old man, "always too +kind! I go in it purely to please you."</p> +<p>Good-night was exchanged; Honoré entered the vehicle and +Agricola was helped in. Achille touched his hat, bowed and waved +his hand to Joseph, and shook hands with the doctor, and saying, +"Well, good-night. Doctor Keene," he shut himself out of the shop +with another low bow. "Think I am going to shake hands with an +apothecary?" thought M. Achille.</p> +<p>Doctor Keene had refused Honoré's invitation to go with +them.</p> +<p>"Frowenfeld," he said, as he stood in the middle of the shop +wiping a ring with a towel and looking at his delicate, freckled +hand, "I propose, before going to bed with you, to eat some of your +bread and cheese. Aren't you glad?"</p> +<p>"I shall be, Doctor," replied the apothecary, "if you will tell +me what all this means."</p> +<p>"Indeed I will not,--that is, not to-night. What? Why, it would +take until breakfast to tell what 'all this means,'--the story of +that pestiferous darky Bras Coupé, with the rest? Oh, no, +sir. I would sooner not have any bread and cheese. What on earth +has waked your curiosity so suddenly, anyhow?"</p> +<p>"Have you any idea who stabbed Citizen Fusilier?" was Joseph's +response.</p> +<p>"Why, at first I thought it was the other Honoré +Grandissime; but when I saw how small the fellow was, I was at a +loss, completely. But, whoever it is, he has my bullet in him, +whatever Honoré may think."</p> +<p>"Will Mr. Fusilier's wound give him much trouble?" asked Joseph, +as they sat down to a luncheon at the fire.</p> +<p>"Hardly; he has too much of the blood of Lufki-Humma in him. But +I need not say that; for the Grandissime blood is just as strong. A +wonderful family, those Grandissimes! They are an old, illustrious +line, and the strength that was once in the intellect and will is +going down into the muscles. I have an idea that their greatness +began, hundreds of years ago, in ponderosity of arm,--of frame, +say,--and developed from generation to generation, in a rising +scale, first into fineness of sinew, then, we will say, into force +of will, then into power of mind, then into subtleties of genius. +Now they are going back down the incline. Look at Honoré; he +is high up on the scale, intellectual and sagacious. But look at +him physically, too. What an exquisite mold! What compact strength! +I should not wonder if he gets that from the Indian Queen. What +endurance he has! He will probably go to his business by and by and +not see his bed for seventeen or eighteen hours. He is the flower +of the family, and possibly the last one. Now, old Agricola shows +the downward grade better. Seventy-five, if he is a day, with, +maybe, one-fourth the attainments he pretends to have, and still +less good sense; but strong--as an orang-outang. Shall we go to +bed?"</p> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/gs2141.jpg" width="40%" alt=""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<p class="lft"><img src="images/gs2143.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>NEW LIGHT UPON DARK PLACES</h3> +<br> +<p>When the long, wakeful night was over, and the doctor gone, +Frowenfeld seated himself to record his usual observations of the +weather; but his mind was elsewhere--here, there, yonder. There are +understandings that expand, not imperceptibly hour by hour, but as +certain flowers do, by little explosive ruptures, with periods of +quiescence between. After this night of experiences it was natural +that Frowenfeld should find the circumference of his perceptions +consciously enlarged. The daylight shone, not into his shop alone, +but into his heart as well. The face of Aurora, which had been the +dawn to him before, was now a perfect sunrise, while in pleasant +timeliness had come in this Apollo of a Honoré Grandissime. +The young immigrant was dazzled. He felt a longing to rise up and +run forward in this flood of beams. He was unconscious of fatigue, +or nearly so--would, have been wholly so but for the return by and +by of that same dim shadow, or shadows, still rising and darting +across every motion of the fancy that grouped again the actors in +last night's scenes; not such shadows as naturally go with sunlight +to make it seem brighter, but a something which qualified the +light's perfection and the air's freshness.</p> +<p>Wherefore, resolved: that he would compound his life, from this +time forward, by a new formula: books, so much; observation, so +much; social intercourse, so much; love--as to that, time enough +for that in the future (if he was in love with anybody, he +certainly did not know it); of love, therefore, amount not yet +necessary to state, but probably (when it should be introduced), in +the generous proportion in which physicians prescribe <i>aqua</i>. +Resolved, in other words, without ceasing to be Frowenfeld the +studious, to begin at once the perusal of this newly found book, +the Community of New Orleans. True, he knew he should find it a +difficult task--not only that much of it was in a strange tongue, +but that it was a volume whose displaced leaves would have to be +lifted tenderly, blown free of much dust, re-arranged, some torn +fragments laid together again with much painstaking, and even the +purport of some pages guessed out. Obviously, the place to commence +at was that brightly illuminated title-page, the ladies +Nancanou.</p> +<p>As the sun rose and diffused its beams in an atmosphere whose +temperature had just been recorded as 50° F., the apothecary +stepped half out of his shop-door to face the bracing air that came +blowing upon his tired forehead from the north. As he did so, he +said to himself:</p> +<p>"How are these two Honoré Grandissimes related to each +other, and why should one be thought capable of attempting the life +of Agricola?"</p> +<p>The answer was on its way to him.</p> +<p>There is left to our eyes but a poor vestige of the picturesque +view presented to those who looked down the rue Royale before the +garish day that changed the rue Enghien into Ingine street, and +dropped the 'e' from Royale. It was a long, narrowing perspective +of arcades, lattices, balconies, <i>zaguans</i>, dormer windows, +and blue sky--of low, tiled roofs, red and wrinkled, huddled down +into their own shadows; of canvas awnings with fluttering borders, +and of grimy lamp-posts twenty feet in height, each reaching out a +gaunt iron arm over the narrow street and dangling a lamp from its +end. The human life which dotted the view displayed a variety of +tints and costumes such as a painter would be glad to take just as +he found them: the gayly feathered Indian, the slashed and +tinselled Mexican, the leather-breeched raftsmen, the blue-or +yellow-turbaned <i>négresse</i>, the sugar-planter in white +flannel and moccasins, the average townsman in the last suit of +clothes of the lately deceased century, and now and then a +fashionable man in that costume whose union of tight-buttoned +martial severity, swathed throat, and effeminate superabundance of +fine linen seemed to offer a sort of state's evidence against the +pompous tyrannies and frivolities of the times.</p> +<p>The <i>marchande des calas</i> was out. She came toward Joseph's +shop, singing in a high-pitched nasal tone this new song:</p> +<blockquote>"Dé'tit zozos--yé té assis--<br> +Dé'tit zozos--si la barrier.<br> +Dé'tit zozos, qui zabotté;<br> +Qui ça yé di' mo pas conné.<br> +<br> +"Manzeur-poulet vini simin,<br> +Croupé si yé et croqué yé;<br> +Personn' pli' 'tend' yé zabotté--<br> +Dé'tit zozos si la barrier."</blockquote> +<p>"You lak dat song?" she asked, with a chuckle, as she let down +from her turbaned head a flat Indian basket of warm rice cakes.</p> +<p>"What does it mean?"</p> +<p>She laughed again--more than the questioner could see occasion +for.</p> +<p>"Dat mean--two lill birds; dey was sittin' on de fence an' +gabblin' togeddah, you know, lak you see two young gals sometime', +an' you can't mek out w'at dey sayin', even ef dey know demself? +H-ya! Chicken-hawk come 'long dat road an' jes' set down an' munch +'em, an' nobody can't no mo' hea' deir lill gabblin' on de fence, +you know."</p> +<p>Here she laughed again.</p> +<p>Joseph looked at her with severe suspicion, but she found refuge +in benevolence.</p> +<p>"Honey, you ought to be asleep dis werry minit; look lak folks +been a-worr'in' you. I's gwine to pick out de werry bes' +<i>calas</i> I's got for you."</p> +<p>As she delivered them she courtesied, first to Joseph and then, +lower and with hushed gravity, to a person who passed into the shop +behind him, bowing and murmuring politely as he passed. She +followed the new-comer with her eyes, hastily accepted the price of +the cakes, whispered, "Dat's my mawstah," lifted her basket to her +head and went away. Her master was Frowenfeld's landlord.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld entered after him, calas in hand, and with a grave +"Good-morning, sir."</p> +<p>"--m'sieu'," responded the landlord, with a low bow.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld waited in silence.</p> +<p>The landlord hesitated, looked around him, seemed about to +speak, smiled, and said, in his soft, solemn voice, feeling his way +word by word through the unfamiliar language:</p> +<p>"Ah lag to teg you apar'."</p> +<p>"See me alone?"</p> +<p>The landlord recognized his error by a fleeting smile.</p> +<p>"Alone," said he.</p> +<p>"Shall we go into my room?"</p> +<p>"<i>S'il vous plait, m'sieu'</i>."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's breakfast, furnished by contract from a neighboring +kitchen, stood on the table. It was a frugal one, but more +comfortable than formerly, and included coffee, that subject of +just pride in Creole cookery. Joseph deposited his <i>calas</i> +with these things and made haste to produce a chair, which his +visitor, as usual, declined.</p> +<p>"Idd you' bregfuz, m'sieu'."</p> +<p>"I can do that afterward," said Frowenfeld; but the landlord +insisted and turned away from him to look up at the books on the +wall, precisely as that other of the same name had done a few weeks +before.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, as he broke his loaf, noticed this, and, as the +landlord turned his face to speak, wondered that he had not before +seen the common likeness.</p> +<p>"Dez stog," said the sombre man.</p> +<p>"What, sir? Oh!--dead stock? But how can the materials of an +education be dead stock?"</p> +<p>The landlord shrugged. He would not argue the point. One +American trait which the Creole is never entirely ready to +encounter is this gratuitous Yankee way of going straight to the +root of things.</p> +<p>"Dead stock in a mercantile sense, you mean," continued the +apothecary; "but are men right in measuring such things only by +their present market value?"</p> +<p>The landlord had no reply. It was little to him, his manner +intimated; his contemplation dwelt on deeper flaws in human right +and wrong; yet--but it was needless to discuss it. However, he did +speak.</p> +<p>"Ah was elevade in Pariz."</p> +<p>"Educated in Paris," exclaimed Joseph, admiringly. "Then you +certainly cannot find your education dead stock."</p> +<p>The grave, not amused, smile which was the landlord's only +rejoinder, though perfectly courteous, intimated that his tenant +was sailing over depths of the question that he was little aware +of. But the smile in a moment gave way for the look of one who was +engrossed with another subject.</p> +<p>"M'sieu'," he began; but just then Joseph made an apologetic +gesture and went forward to wait upon an inquirer after "Godfrey's +Cordial;" for that comforter was known to be obtainable at +"Frowenfeld's." The business of the American drug-store was daily +increasing. When Frowenfeld returned his landlord stood ready to +address him, with the air of having decided to make short of a +matter.</p> +<p>"M'sieu'----"</p> +<p>"Have a seat, sir," urged the apothecary.</p> +<p>His visitor again declined, with his uniform melancholy grace. +He drew close to Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Ah wand you mague me one <i>ouangan</i>," he said.</p> +<p>Joseph shook his head. He remembered Doctor Keene's expressed +suspicion concerning the assault of the night before.</p> +<p>"I do not understand you, sir; what is that?"</p> +<p>"You know."</p> +<p>The landlord offered a heavy, persuading smile.</p> +<p>"An unguent? Is that what you mean--an ointment?"</p> +<p>"M'sieu'," said the applicant, with a not-to-be-deceived +expression, "<i>vous êtes astrologue--magicien</i>--"</p> +<p>"God forbid!"</p> +<p>The landlord was grossly incredulous.</p> +<p>"You godd one 'P'tit Albert.'"</p> +<p>He dropped his forefinger upon an iron-clasped book on the +table, whose title much use had effaced.</p> +<p>"That is the Bible. I do not know what the Tee Albare is!"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld darted an aroused glance into the ever-courteous eyes +of his visitor, who said without a motion:</p> +<p>"You di'n't gave Agricola Fusilier <i>une ouangan, la nuit +passé</i>?"</p> +<p>"Sir?"</p> +<p>"Ee was yeh?--laz nighd?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Fusilier was here last night--yes. He had been attacked by +an assassin and slightly wounded. He was accompanied by his nephew, +who, I suppose, is your cousin: he has the same name."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, hoping he had changed the subject, concluded with a +propitiatory smile, which, however, was not reflected.</p> +<p>"Ma bruzzah," said the visitor.</p> +<p>"Your brother!"</p> +<p>"Ma whide bruzzah; ah ham nod whide, m'sieu'."</p> +<p>Joseph said nothing. He was too much awed to speak; the +ejaculation that started toward his lips turned back and rushed +into his heart, and it was the quadroon who, after a moment, broke +the silence:</p> +<p>"Ah ham de holdez son of Numa Grandissime."</p> +<p>"Yes--yes," said Frowenfeld, as if he would wave away something +terrible.</p> +<p>"Nod sell me--<i>ouangan</i>?" asked the landlord, again.</p> +<p>"Sir," exclaimed Frowenfeld, taking a step backward, "pardon me +if I offend you; that mixture of blood which draws upon you the +scorn of this community is to me nothing--nothing! And every +invidious distinction made against you on that account I despise! +But, sir, whatever may be either your private wrongs, or the wrongs +you suffer in common with your class, if you have it in your mind +to employ any manner of secret art against the interests or person +of any one--"</p> +<p>The landlord was making silent protestations, and his tenant, +lost in a wilderness of indignant emotions, stopped.</p> +<p>"M'sieu'," began the quadroon, but ceased and stood with an +expression of annoyance every moment deepening on his face, until +he finally shook his head slowly, and said with a baffled smile: +"Ah can nod spig Engliss."</p> +<p>"Write it," said Frowenfeld, lifting forward a chair.</p> +<p>The landlord, for the first time in their acquaintance, accepted +a seat, bowing low as he did so, with a demonstration of profound +gratitude that just perceptibly heightened his even dignity. Paper, +quills, and ink were handed down from a shelf and Joseph retired +into the shop.</p> +<p>Honoré Grandissime, f.m.c. (these initials could hardly +have come into use until some months later, but the convenience +covers the sin of the slight anachronism), Honoré +Grandissime, free man of color, entered from the rear room so +silently that Joseph was first made aware of his presence by +feeling him at his elbow. He handed the apothecary--but a few words +in time, lest we misjudge.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The father of the two Honorés was that Numa +Grandissime--that mere child--whom the Grand Marquis, to the great +chagrin of the De Grapions, had so early cadetted. The commission +seems not to have been thrown away. While the province was still in +first hands, Numa's was a shining name in the annals of Kerlerec's +unsatisfactory Indian wars; and in 1768 (when the colonists, +ill-informed, inflammable, and long ill-governed, resisted the +transfer of Louisiana to Spain), at a time of life when most young +men absorb all the political extravagances of their day, he had +stood by the side of law and government, though the popular cry was +a frenzied one for "liberty." Moreover, he had held back his whole +chafing and stamping tribe from a precipice of disaster, and had +secured valuable recognition of their office-holding capacities +from that really good governor and princely Irishman whose one act +of summary vengeance upon a few insurgent office-coveters has +branded him in history as Cruel O'Reilly. But the experience of +those days turned Numa gray, and withal he was not satisfied with +their outcome. In the midst of the struggle he had weakened in one +manly resolve--against his will he married. The lady was a +Fusilier, Agricola's sister, a person of rare intelligence and +beauty, whom, from early childhood, the secret counsels of his +seniors had assigned to him. Despite this, he had said he would +never marry; he made, he said, no pretensions to severe +conscientiousness, or to being better than others, but--as between +his Maker and himself--he had forfeited the right to wed, they all +knew how. But the Fusiliers had become very angry and Numa, finding +strife about to ensue just when without unity he could not bring an +undivided clan through the torrent of the revolution, had "nobly +sacrificed a little sentimental feeling," as his family defined it, +by breaking faith with the mother of the man now standing at Joseph +Frowenfeld's elbow, and who was then a little toddling boy. It was +necessary to save the party--nay, that was a slip; we should say, +to save the family; this is not a parable. Yet Numa loved his wife. +She bore him a boy and a girl, twins; and as her son grew in +physical, intellectual, and moral symmetry, he indulged the hope +that--the ambition and pride of all the various Grandissimes now +centering in this lawful son, and all strife being lulled--he +should yet see this Honoré right the wrongs which he had not +quite dared to uproot. And Honoré inherited the hope and +began to make it an intention and aim even before his departure +(with his half-brother the other Honoré) for school in +Paris, at the early age of fifteen. Numa soon after died, and +Honoré, after various fortunes in Paris, London, and +elsewhere, in the care, or at least company, of a pious uncle in +holy orders, returned to the ancestral mansion. The father's +will--by the law they might have set it aside, but that was not +their way--left the darker Honoré the bulk of his fortune, +the younger a competency. The latter--instead of taking office, as +an ancient Grandissime should have done--to the dismay and +mortification of his kindred, established himself in a prosperous +commercial business. The elder bought houses and became a +<i>rentier</i>.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The landlord handed the apothecary the following writing:</p> +<blockquote>MR. JOSEPH FROWENFELD:<br> +<br> +Think not that anybody is to be either poisoned by me nor yet to be +made a sufferer by the exercise of anything by me of the character +of what is generally known as grigri, otherwise magique. This, sir, +I do beg your permission to offer my assurance to you of the same. +Ah, no! it is not for that! I am the victim of another entirely and +a far differente and dissimilar passion, <i>i.e.</i>, Love. +Esteemed sir, speaking or writing to you as unto the only man of +exclusively white blood whom I believe is in Louisiana willing to +do my dumb, suffering race the real justice, I love Palmyre la +Philosophe with a madness which is by the human lips or tongues not +possible to be exclaimed (as, I may add, that I have in the same +like manner since exactley nine years and seven months and some +days). Alas! heavens! I can't help it in the least particles at +all! What, what shall I do, for ah! it is pitiful! She loves me not +at all, but, on the other hand, is (if I suspicion not wrongfully) +wrapped up head and ears in devotion of one who does not love her, +either, so cold and incapable of appreciation is he. I allude to +Honoré Grandissime.<br> +<br> +Ah! well do I remember the day when we returned--he and me--from +the France. She was there when we landed on that levee, she was +among that throng of kindreds and domestiques, she shind like the +evening star as she stood there (it was the first time I saw her, +but she was known to him when at fifteen he left his home, but I +resided not under my own white father's roof--not at all--far from +that). She cried out "A la fin to vini!" and leap herself with both +resplendant arm around his neck and kist him twice on the one cheek +and the other, and her resplendant eyes shining with a so great +beauty.<br> +<br> +If you will give me a <i>poudre d'amour</i> such as I doubt not +your great knowledge enable you to make of a power that cannot to +be resist, while still at the same time of a harmless character +toward the life or the health of such that I shall succeed in its +use to gain the affections of that emperice of my soul, I hesitate +not to give you such price as it may please you to nominate up as +high as to $l,000--nay, more. Sir, will you do that?<br> +<br> +I have the honor to remain, sir,<br> +<br> +Very respectfully, your obedient servant,<br> +<br> +H. Grandissime.</blockquote> +<p>Frowenfeld slowly transferred his gaze from the paper to his +landlord's face. Dejection and hope struggled with each other in +the gaze that was returned; but when Joseph said, with a +countenance full of pity, "I have no power to help you," the +disappointed lover merely looked fixedly for a moment in the +direction of the street, then lifted his hat toward his head, +bowed, and departed.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>ART AND COMMERCE</h3> +<br> +<p>It was some two or three days after the interview just related +that the apothecary of the rue Royale found it necessary to ask a +friend to sit in the shop a few minutes while he should go on a +short errand. He was kept away somewhat longer than he had intended +to stay, for, as they were coming out of the cathedral, he met +Aurora and Clotilde. Both the ladies greeted him with a cordiality +which was almost inebriating, Aurora even extending her hand. He +stood but a moment, responding blushingly to two or three trivial +questions from her; yet even in so short a time, and although +Clotilde gave ear with the sweetest smiles and loveliest changes of +countenance, he experienced a lively renewal of a conviction that +this young lady was most unjustly harboring toward him a vague +disrelish, if not a positive distrust. That she had some mental +reservation was certain.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Aurora, as he raised his hat for +good-day, "you din come home yet."</p> +<p>He did not understand until he had crimsoned and answered he +knew not what--something about having intended every day. He felt +lifted he knew not where, Paradise opened, there was a flood of +glory, and then he was alone; the ladies, leaving adieus sweeter +than the perfume they carried away with them, floated into the +south and were gone. Why was it that the elder, though plainly +regarded by the younger with admiration, dependence, and +overflowing affection, seemed sometimes to be, one might almost +say, watched by her? He liked Aurora the better.</p> +<p>On his return to the shop his friend remarked that if he +received many such visitors as the one who had called during his +absence, he might be permitted to be vain. It was Honoré +Grandissime, and he had left no message.</p> +<p>"Frowenfeld," said his friend, "it would pay you to employ a +regular assistant."</p> +<p>Joseph was in an abstracted mood.</p> +<p>"I have some thought of doing so."</p> +<p>Unlucky slip! As he pushed open his door next morning, what was +his dismay to find himself confronted by some forty men. Five of +them leaped up from the door-sill, and some thirty-five from the +edge of the <i>trottoir</i>, brushed that part of their +wearing-apparel which always fits with great neatness on a Creole, +and trooped into the shop. The apothecary fell behind his defences, +that is to say, his prescription desk, and explained to them in a +short and spirited address that he did not wish to employ any of +them on any terms. Nine-tenths of them understood not a word of +English; but his gesture was unmistakable. They bowed gratefully, +and said good-day.</p> +<p>Now Frowenfeld did these young men an injustice; and though they +were far from letting him know it, some of them felt it and +interchanged expressions of feeling reproachful to him as they +stopped on the next corner to watch a man painting a sign. He had +treated them as if they all wanted situations. Was this so? Far +from it. Only twenty men were applicants; the other twenty were +friends who had come to see them get the place. And again, though, +as the apothecary had said, none of them knew anything about the +drug business--no, nor about any other business under the +heavens--they were all willing that he should teach them--except +one. A young man of patrician softness and costly apparel tarried a +moment after the general exodus, and quickly concluded that on +Frowenfeld's account it was probably as well that he could not +qualify, since he was expecting from France an important government +appointment as soon as these troubles should be settled and +Louisiana restored to her former happy condition. But he had a +friend--a cousin--whom he would recommend, just the man for the +position; a splendid fellow; popular, accomplished--what? the best +trainer of dogs that M. Frowenfeld might ever hope to look upon; a +"so good fisherman as I never saw! "--the marvel of the +ball-room--could handle a partner of twice his weight; the speaker +had seen him take a lady so tall that his head hardly came up to +her bosom, whirl her in the waltz from right to left--this way! and +then, as quick as lightning, turn and whirl her this way, from left +to right--"so grezful ligue a peajohn! He could read and write, and +knew more comig song!"--the speaker would hasten to secure him +before he should take some other situation.</p> +<p>The wonderful waltzer never appeared upon the scene; yet Joseph +made shift to get along, and by and by found a man who partially +met his requirements. The way of it was this: With his forefinger +in a book which he had been reading, he was one day pacing his shop +floor in deep thought. There were two loose threads hanging from +the web of incident weaving around him which ought to connect +somewhere; but where? They were the two visits made to his shop by +the young merchant, Honoré Grandissime. He stopped still to +think; what "train of thought" could he have started in the mind of +such a man?</p> +<p>He was about to resume his walk, when there came in, or more +strictly speaking, there shot in, a young, auburn-curled, blue-eyed +man, whose adolescent buoyancy, as much as his delicate, +silver-buckled feet and clothes of perfect fit, pronounced him +all-pure Creole. His name, when it was presently heard, accounted +for the blond type by revealing a Franco-Celtic origin.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," he said, advancing like a boy coming in +after recess, "I 'ave somet'ing beauteeful to place into yo' +window."</p> +<p>He wheeled half around as he spoke and seized from a naked black +boy, who at that instant entered, a rectangular object enveloped in +paper.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's window was fast growing to be a place of art +exposition. A pair of statuettes, a golden tobacco-box, a costly +jewel-casket, or a pair of richly gemmed horse-pistols--the +property of some ancient gentleman or dame of emaciated fortune, +and which must be sold to keep up the bravery of good clothes and +pomade that hid slow starvation--went into the shop-window of the +ever-obliging apothecary, to be disposed of by <i>tombola</i>. And +it is worthy of note in passing, concerning the moral education of +one who proposed to make no conscious compromise with any sort of +evil, that in this drivelling species of gambling he saw nothing +hurtful or improper. But "in Frowenfeld's window" appeared also +articles for simple sale or mere transient exhibition; as, for +instance, the wonderful tapestries of a blind widow of ninety; +tremulous little bunches of flowers, proudly stated to have been +made entirely of the bones of the ordinary catfish; others, large +and spreading, the sight of which would make any botanist fall down +"and die as mad as the wild waves be," whose ticketed merit was +that they were composed exclusively of materials produced upon +Creole soil; a picture of the Ursulines' convent and chapel, done +in forty-five minutes by a child of ten years, the daughter of the +widow Felicie Grandissime; and the siege of Troy, in ordinary ink, +done entirely with the pen, the labor of twenty years, by "a +citizen of New Orleans." It was natural that these things should +come to "Frowenfeld's corner," for there, oftener than elsewhere, +the critics were gathered together. Ah! wonderful men, those +critics; and, fortunately, we have a few still left.</p> +<p>The young man with auburn curls rested the edge of his burden +upon the counter, tore away its wrappings and disclosed a +painting.</p> +<p>He said nothing--with his mouth; but stood at arm's length +balancing the painting and casting now upon it and now upon Joseph +Frowenfeld a look more replete with triumph than Caesar's +three-worded dispatch.</p> +<p>The apothecary fixed upon it long and silently the gaze of a +somnambulist. At length he spoke:</p> +<p>"What is it?"</p> +<p>"Louisiana rif-using to hanter de h-Union!" replied the Creole, +with an ecstasy that threatened to burst forth in hip-hurrahs.</p> +<p>Joseph said nothing, but silently wondered at Louisiana's +anatomy.</p> +<p>"Gran' subjec'!" said the Creole.</p> +<p>"Allegorical," replied the hard-pressed apothecary.</p> +<p>"Allegoricon? No, sir! Allegoricon never saw dat pigshoe. If you +insist to know who make dat pigshoe--de hartis' stan' bif-ore +you!"</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2162.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2162.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2162.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"The young man with auburn curls rested the edge of his burden +upon the counter,<br> +tore away its wrappings and disclosed a painting".</b></p> +<br> +<p>"It is your work?"</p> +<p>"'Tis de work of me, Raoul Innerarity, cousin to de disting-wish +Honoré Grandissime. I swear to you, sir, on stack of Bible' +as 'igh as yo' head!"</p> +<p>He smote his breast.</p> +<p>"Do you wish to put it in the window?"</p> +<p>"Yes, seh."</p> +<p>"For sale?"</p> +<p>M. Raoul Innerarity hesitated a moment before replying:</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', I think it is a foolishness to be too proud, +eh? I want you to say, 'My frien', 'Sieur Innerarity, never care to +sell anything; 'tis for egs-hibby-shun'; <i>mais</i>--when somebody +look at it, so," the artist cast upon his work a look of +languishing covetousness, "'you say, <i>foudre tonnerre!</i> what +de dev'!--I take dat ris-pon-sibble-ty--you can have her for two +hun'red fifty dollah!' Better not be too proud, eh, 'Sieur +Frowenfel'?"</p> +<p>"No, sir," said Joseph, proceeding to place it in the window, +his new friend following him about spanielwise; "but you had better +let me say plainly that it is for sale."</p> +<p>"Oh--I don't care--<i>mais</i>--my rillation' will never forgive +me! <i>Mais</i>--go-ahead-I-don't-care! 'T is for sale."</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," he resumed, as they came away from the +window, "one week ago"--he held up one finger--"what I was doing? +Makin' bill of ladin', my faith!--for my cousin Honoré! an' +now, I ham a hartis'! So soon I foun' dat, I say, 'Cousin +Honoré,'"--the eloquent speaker lifted his foot and +administered to the empty air a soft, polite kick--"I never goin' +to do anoder lick o' work so long I live; adieu!"</p> +<p>He lifted a kiss from his lips and wafted it in the direction of +his cousin's office.</p> +<p>"Mr. Innerarity," exclaimed the apothecary, "I fear you are +making a great mistake."</p> +<p>"You tink I hass too much?"</p> +<p>"Well, sir, to be candid, I do; but that is not your greatest +mistake."</p> +<p>"What she's worse?"</p> +<p>The apothecary simultaneously smiled and blushed.</p> +<p>"I would rather not say; it is a passably good example of Creole +art; there is but one way by which it can ever be worth what you +ask for it."</p> +<p>"What dat is?"</p> +<p>The smile faded and the blush deepened as Frowenfeld +replied:</p> +<p>"If it could become the means of reminding this community that +crude ability counts next to nothing in art, and that nothing else +in this world ought to work so hard as genius, it would be worth +thousands of dollars!"</p> +<p>"You tink she is worse a t'ousand dollah?" asked the Creole, +shadow and sunshine chasing each other across his face.</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>The unwilling critic strove unnecessarily against his smile.</p> +<p>"Ow much you tink?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Innerarity, as an exercise it is worth whatever truth or +skill it has taught you; to a judge of paintings it is ten dollars' +worth of paint thrown away; but as an article of sale it is worth +what it will bring without misrepresentation."</p> +<p>"Two--hun-rade an'--fifty--dollahs or--not'in'!" said the +indignant Creole, clenching one fist, and with the other hand +lifting his hat by the front corner and slapping it down upon the +counter. "Ha, ha, ha! a pase of waint--a wase of paint! 'Sieur +Frowenfel', you don' know not'in' 'bout it! You har a jedge of +painting?" he added cautiously.</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, bien! foudre tonnerre</i>!--look yeh! you know? 'Sieur +Frowenfel'? Dat de way de publique halways talk about a hartis's +firs' pigshoe. But, I hass you to pardon me, Monsieur Frowenfel', +if I 'ave speak a lill too warm."</p> +<p>"Then you must forgive me if, in my desire to set you right, I +have spoken with too much liberty. I probably should have said only +what I first intended to say, that unless you are a person of +independent means--"</p> +<p>"You t'ink I would make bill of ladin'? Ah! Hm-m!"</p> +<p>"--that you had made a mistake in throwing up your means of +support--"</p> +<p>"But 'e 'as fill de place an' don' want me no mo'. You want a +clerk?--one what can speak fo' lang-widge--French, Eng-lish, +Spanish, <i>an'</i> Italienne? Come! I work for you in de mawnin' +an' paint in de evenin'; come!"</p> +<p>Joseph was taken unaware. He smiled, frowned, passed his hand +across his brow, noticed, for the first time since his delivery of +the picture, the naked little boy standing against the edge of a +door, said, "Why--," and smiled again.</p> +<p>"I riffer you to my cousin Honoré," said Innerarity.</p> +<p>"Have you any knowledge of this business?"</p> +<p>"I 'ave.'</p> +<p>"Can you keep shop in the forenoon or afternoon indifferently, +as I may require?"</p> +<p>"Eh? Forenoon--afternoon?" was the reply.</p> +<p>"Can you paint sometimes in the morning and keep shop in the +evening?"</p> +<p>"Yes, seh."</p> +<p>Minor details were arranged on the spot. Raoul dismissed the +black boy, took off his coat and fell to work decanting something, +with the understanding that his salary, a microscopic one, should +begin from date if his cousin should recommend him.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," he called from under the counter, later in +the day, "you t'ink it would be hanny disgrace to paint de pigshoe +of a niggah?"</p> +<p>"Certainly not."</p> +<p>"Ah, my soul! what a pigshoe I could paint of +Bras-Coupé!"</p> +<p>We have the afflatus in Louisiana, if nothing else.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>A VERY NATURAL MISTAKE</h3> +<br> +<p>MR. Raoul Innerarity proved a treasure. The fact became patent +in a few hours. To a student of the community he was a key, a lamp, +a lexicon, a microscope, a tabulated statement, a book of heraldry, +a city directory, a glass of wine, a Book of Days, a pair of wings, +a comic almanac, a diving bell, a Creole <i>veritas</i>. Before the +day had had time to cool, his continual stream of words had done +more to elucidate the mysteries in which his employer had begun to +be befogged than half a year of the apothecary's slow and +scrupulous guessing. It was like showing how to carve a strange +fowl. The way he dovetailed story into story and drew forward in +panoramic procession Lufki-Humma and Epaminondas Fusilier, Zephyr +Grandissime and the lady of the <i>lettre de cachet</i>, +Demosthenes De Grapion and the <i>fille à +l'hôpital</i>, Georges De Grapion and the <i>fille à +la cassette</i>, Numa Grandissime, father of the two +Honorés, young Nancanou and old Agricola,--the way he made +them</p> +<blockquote>"Knit hands and beat the ground<br> +In a light, fantastic round,"</blockquote> +<p>would have shamed the skilled volubility of Sheharazade.</p> +<p>"Look!" said the story-teller, summing up; "you take hanny +'istory of France an' see the hage of my familie. Pipple talk about +de Boulignys, de Sauvés, de Grandprès, de Lemoynes, +de St. Maxents,--bla-a-a! De Grandissimes is as hole as de dev'! +What? De mose of de Creole families is not so hold as plenty of my +yallah kinfolks!"</p> +<p>The apothecary found very soon that a little salt improved M. +Raoul's statements.</p> +<p>But here he was, a perfect treasure, and Frowenfeld, fleeing +before his illimitable talking power in order to digest in +seclusion the ancestral episodes of the Grandissimes and De +Grapions, laid pleasant plans for the immediate future. To-morrow +morning he would leave the shop in Raoul's care and call on M. +Honoré Grandissime to advise with him concerning the +retention of the born artist as a drug-clerk. To-morrow evening he +would pluck courage and force his large but bashful feet up to the +doorstep of Number 19 rue Bienville. And the next evening he would +go and see what might be the matter with Doctor Keene, who had +looked ill on last parting with the evening group that lounged in +Frowenfeld's door, some three days before. The intermediate hours +were to be devoted, of course, to the prescription desk and his +"dead stock."</p> +<p>And yet after this order of movement had been thus compactly +planned, there all the more seemed still to be that abroad which, +now on this side, and now on that, was urging him in a nervous +whisper to make haste. There had escaped into the air, it seemed, +and was gliding about, the expectation of a crisis.</p> +<p>Such a feeling would have been natural enough to the tenants of +Number 19 rue Bienville, now spending the tenth of the eighteen +days of grace allowed them in which to save their little fortress. +For Palmyre's assurance that the candle burning would certainly +cause the rent-money to be forthcoming in time was to Clotilde +unknown, and to Aurora it was poor stuff to make peace of mind of. +But there was a degree of impracticability in these ladies, which, +if it was unfortunate, was, nevertheless, a part of their Creole +beauty, and made the absence of any really brilliant outlook what +the galaxy makes a moonless sky. Perhaps they had not been as +diligent as they might have been in canvassing all possible ways +and means for meeting the pecuniary emergency so fast bearing down +upon them. From a Creole standpoint, they were not bad managers. +They could dress delightfully on an incredibly small outlay; could +wear a well-to-do smile over an inward sigh of stifled hunger; +could tell the parents of their one or two scholars to consult +their convenience, and then come home to a table that would make +any kind soul weep; but as to estimating the velocity of +bills-payable in their orbits, such trained sagacity was not +theirs. Their economy knew how to avoid what the Creole-African +apothegm calls <i>commerce Man Lizon--qui asseté pou' trois +picaillons et vend' pou' ein escalin</i> (bought for three +picayunes and sold for two); but it was an economy that made their +very hound a Spartan; for, had that economy been half as wise as it +was heroic, his one meal a day would not always have been the +cook's leavings of cold rice and the lickings of the gumbo +plates.</p> +<p>On the morning fixed by Joseph Frowenfeld for calling on M. +Grandissime, on the banquette of the rue Toulouse, directly in +front of an old Spanish archway and opposite a blacksmith's +shop,--this blacksmith's shop stood between a jeweller's store and +a large, balconied and dormer-windowed wine-warehouse--Aurore +Nancanou, closely veiled, had halted in a hesitating way and was +inquiring of a gigantic negro cartman the whereabouts of the +counting-room of M. Honoré Grandissime.</p> +<p>Before he could respond she descried the name upon a staircase +within the archway, and, thanking the cartman as she would have +thanked a prince, hastened to ascend. An inspiring smell of warm +rusks, coming from a bakery in the paved court below, rushed +through the archway and up the stair and accompanied her into the +cemetery-like silence of the counting-room. There were in the +department some fourteen clerks. It was a den of Grandissimes. More +than half of them were men beyond middle life, and some were yet +older. One or two were so handsome, under their noble silvery +locks, that almost any woman--Clotilde, for instance,--would have +thought, "No doubt that one, or that one, is the head of the +house." Aurora approached the railing which shut in the silent +toilers and directed her eyes to the farthest corner of the room. +There sat there at a large desk a thin, sickly-looking man with +very sore eyes and two pairs of spectacles, plying a quill with a +privileged loudness.</p> +<p>"H-h-m-m!" said she, very softly.</p> +<p>A young man laid down his rule and stepped to the rail with a +silent bow. His face showed a jaded look. Night revelry, rather +than care or years, had wrinkled it; but his bow was high-bred.</p> +<p>"Madame,"--in an undertone.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, it is M. Grandissime whom I wish to see," she said in +French.</p> +<p>But the young man responded in English.</p> +<p>"You har one tenant, ent it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, seh."</p> +<p>"Zen eet ees M. De Brahmin zat you 'ave to see."</p> +<p>"No, seh; M. Grandissime."</p> +<p>"M. Grandissime nevva see one tenant."</p> +<p>"I muz see M. Grandissime."</p> +<p>Aurora lifted her veil and laid it up on her bonnet.</p> +<p>The clerk immediately crossed the floor to the distant desk. The +quill of the sore-eyed man scratched louder--scratch, scratch--as +though it were trying to scratch under the door of Number 19 rue +Bienville--for a moment, and then ceased. The clerk, with one hand +behind him and one touching the desk, murmured a few words, to +which the other, after glancing under his arm at Aurora, gave a +short, low reply and resumed his pen. The clerk returned, came +through a gateway in the railing, led the way into a rich inner +room, and turning with another courtly bow, handed her a cushioned +armchair and retired.</p> +<p>"After eighteen years," thought Aurora, as she found herself +alone. It had been eighteen years since any representative of the +De Grapion line had met a Grandissime face to face, so far as she +knew; even that representative was only her deceased husband, a +mere connection by marriage. How many years it was since her +grandfather, Georges De Grapion, captain of dragoons, had had his +fatal meeting with a Mandarin de Grandissime, she did not remember. +There, opposite her on the wall, was the portrait of a young man in +a corslet who might have been M. Mandarin himself. She felt the +blood of her race growing warmer in her veins. "Insolent tribe," +she said, without speaking, "we have no more men left to fight you; +but now wait. See what a woman can do."</p> +<p>These thoughts ran through her mind as her eye passed from one +object to another. Something reminded her of Frowenfeld, and, with +mingled defiance at her inherited enemies and amusement at the +apothecary, she indulged in a quiet smile. The smile was still +there as her glance in its gradual sweep reached a small +mirror.</p> +<p>She almost leaped from her seat.</p> +<p>Not because that mirror revealed a recess which she had not +previously noticed; not because behind a costly desk therein sat a +youngish man, reading a letter; not because he might have been +observing her, for it was altogether likely that, to avoid +premature interruption, he had avoided looking up; nor because this +was evidently Honoré Grandissime; but because Honoré +Grandissime, if this were he, was the same person whom she had seen +only with his back turned in the pharmacy--the rider whose horse +ten days ago had knocked her down, the Lieutenant of Dragoons who +had unmasked and to whom she had unmasked at the ball! Fly! But +where? How? It was too late; she had not even time to lower her +veil. M. Grandissime looked up at the glass, dropped the letter +with a slight start of consternation and advanced quickly toward +her. For an instant her embarrassment showed itself in a mantling +blush and a distressful yearning to escape; but the next moment she +rose, all a-flutter within, it is true, but with a face as nearly +sedate as the inborn witchery of her eyes would allow.</p> +<p>He spoke in Parisian French:</p> +<p>"Please be seated, madame."</p> +<p>She sank down.</p> +<p>"Do you wish to see me?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>She did not see her way out of this falsehood, but--she couldn't +say yes.</p> +<p>Silence followed.</p> +<p>"Whom do--"</p> +<p>"I wish to see M. Honoré Grandissime."</p> +<p>"That is my name, madame."</p> +<p>"Ah!"--with an angelic smile; she had collected her wits now, +and was ready for war. "You are not one of his clerks?"</p> +<p>M. Grandissime smiled softly, while he said to himself: "You +little honey-bee, you want to sting me, eh?" and then he answered +her question.</p> +<p>"No, madame; I am the gentleman you are looking for."</p> +<p>"The gentleman she was look--" her pride resented the fact. +"Me!"--thought she--"I am the lady whom, I have not a doubt, you +have been longing to meet ever since the ball;" but her look was +unmoved gravity. She touched her handkerchief to her lips and +handed him the rent notice.</p> +<p>"I received that from your office the Monday before last."</p> +<p>There was a slight emphasis in the announcement of the time; it +was the day of the run-over.</p> +<p>Honoré Grandissime, stopping with the rent-notice only +half unfolded, saw the advisability of calling up all the resources +of his sagacity and wit in order to answer wisely; and as they +answered his call a brighter nobility so overspread face and person +that Aurora inwardly exclaimed at it even while she exulted in her +thrust.</p> +<p>"Monday before last?"</p> +<p>She slightly bowed.</p> +<p>"A serious misfortune befell me that day," said M. +Grandissime.</p> +<p>"Ah?" replied the lady, raising her brows with polite distress, +"but you have entirely recovered, I suppose."</p> +<p>"It was I, madame, who that evening caused you a mortification +for which I fear you will accept no apology."</p> +<p>"On the contrary," said Aurora, with an air of generous +protestation, "it is I who should apologize; I fear I injured your +horse."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime only smiled, and opening the rent-notice dropped +his glance upon it while he said in a preoccupied tone:</p> +<p>"My horse is very well, I thank you."</p> +<p>But as he read the paper, his face assumed a serious air and he +seemed to take an unnecessary length of time to reach the bottom of +it.</p> +<p>"He is trying to think how he will get rid of me," thought +Aurora; "he is making up some pretext with which to dismiss me, and +when the tenth of March comes we shall be put into the street."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime extended the letter toward her, but she did not +lift her hands.</p> +<p>"I beg to assure you, madame, I could never have permitted this +notice to reach you from my office; I am not the Honoré +Grandissime for whom this is signed."</p> +<p>Aurora smiled in a way to signify clearly that that was just the +subterfuge she had been anticipating. Had she been at home she +would have thrown herself, face downward, upon the bed; but she +only smiled meditatively upward at the picture of an East Indian +harbor and made an unnecessary rearrangement of her handkerchief +under her folded hands.</p> +<p>"There are, you know,"--began Honoré, with a smile which +changed the meaning to "You know very well there are"--"two +Honoré Grandissimes. This one who sent you this letter is a +man of color--"</p> +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Aurora, with a sudden malicious sparkle.</p> +<p>"If you will entrust this paper to me," said Honoré, +quietly, "I will see him and do now engage that you shall have no +further trouble about it. Of course, I do not mean that I will pay +it, myself; I dare not offer to take such a liberty."</p> +<p>Then he felt that a warm impulse had carried him a step too +far.</p> +<p>Aurora rose up with a refusal as firm as it was silent. She +neither smiled nor scintillated now, but wore an expression of +amiable practicality as she presently said, receiving back the +rent-notice as she spoke:</p> +<p>"I thank you, sir, but it might seem strange to him to find his +notice in the hands of a person who can claim no interest in the +matter. I shall have to attend to it myself."</p> +<p>"Ah! little enchantress," thought her grave-faced listener, as +he gave attention, "this, after all--ball and all--is the mood in +which you look your very, very best"--a fact which nobody knew +better than the enchantress herself.</p> +<p>He walked beside her toward the open door leading back into the +counting-room, and the dozen or more clerks, who, each by some +ingenuity of his own, managed to secure a glimpse of them, could +not fail to feel that they had never before seen quite so fair a +couple. But she dropped her veil, bowed M. Grandissime a polite "No +farther," and passed out.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime walked once up and down his private office, gave +the door a soft push with his foot and lighted a cigar.</p> +<p>The clerk who had before acted as usher came in and handed him a +slip of paper with a name written on it. M. Grandissime folded it +twice, gazed out the window, and finally nodded. The clerk +disappeared, and Joseph Frowenfeld paused an instant in the door +and then advanced, with a buoyant good-morning.</p> +<p>"Good-morning," responded M. Grandissime.</p> +<p>He smiled and extended his hand, yet there was a mechanical and +preoccupied air that was not what Joseph felt justified in +expecting.</p> +<p>"How can I serve you, Mr. Frhowenfeld?" asked the merchant, +glancing through into the counting-room. His coldness was almost +all in Joseph's imagination, but to the apothecary it seemed such +that he was nearly induced to walk away without answering. However, +he replied:</p> +<p>"A young man whom I have employed refers to you to recommend +him."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir? Prhay, who is that?"</p> +<p>"Your cousin, I believe, Mr. Raoul Innerarity."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime gave a low, short laugh, and took two steps +toward his desk.</p> +<p>"Rhaoul? Oh yes, I rhecommend Rhaoul to you. As an assistant in +yo' sto'?--the best man you could find."</p> +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Joseph, coldly. "Good-morning!" he added +turning to go.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frhowenfeld," said the other, "do you evva rhide?"</p> +<p>"I used to ride," replied the apothecary, turning, hat in hand, +and wondering what such a question could mean.</p> +<p>"If I send a saddle-hoss to yo' do' on day aftah to-morrhow +evening at fo' o'clock, will you rhide out with me for-h about a +hour-h and a half--just for a little pleasu'e?"</p> +<p>Joseph was yet more astonished than before. He hesitated, +accepted the invitation, and once more said good-morning.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>DOCTOR KEENE RECOVERS HIS BULLET</h3> +<br> +<p>It early attracted the apothecary's notice, in observing the +civilization around him, that it kept the flimsy false bottoms in +its social errors only by incessant reiteration. As he re-entered +the shop, dissatisfied with himself for accepting M. Grandissime's +invitation to ride, he knew by the fervent words which he overheard +from the lips of his employee that the f.m.c. had been making one +of his reconnoisances, and possibly had ventured in to inquire for +his tenant.</p> +<p>"I t'ink, me, dat hanny w'ite man is a gen'leman; but I don't +care if a man are good like a h-angel, if 'e har not pu'e w'ite +'<i>ow can</i> 'e be a gen'leman?"</p> +<p>Raoul's words were addressed to a man who, as he rose up and +handed Frowenfeld a note, ratified the Creole's sentiment by a +spurt of tobacco juice and an affirmative "Hm-m."</p> +<p>The note was a lead-pencil scrawl, without date.</p> +<blockquote>DEAR JOE: Come and see me some time this evening.<br> +I am on my back in bed. Want your help in a little<br> +matter. Yours, Keene.<br> +<br> +I have found out who ---- ----"</blockquote> +<p>Frowenfeld pondered: "I have found out who ---- ----" Ah! Doctor +Keene had found out who stabbed Agricola.</p> +<p>Some delays occurred in the afternoon, but toward sunset the +apothecary dressed and went out. From the doctor's bedside in the +rue St. Louis, if not delayed beyond all expectation, he would +proceed to visit the ladies at Number 19 rue Bienville. The air was +growing cold and threatening bad weather.</p> +<p>He found the Doctor prostrate, wasted, hoarse, cross and almost +too weak for speech. He could only whisper, as his friend +approached his pillow:</p> +<p>"These vile lungs!"</p> +<p>"Hemorrhage?"</p> +<p>The invalid held up three small, freckled fingers.</p> +<p>Joseph dared not show pity in his gaze, but it seemed savage not +to express some feeling, so after standing a moment he began to +say:</p> +<p>"I am very sorry--"</p> +<p>"You needn't bother yourself!" whispered the doctor, who lay +frowning upward. By and by he whispered again.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld bent his ear, and the little man, so merry when well, +repeated, in a savage hiss:</p> +<p>"Sit down!"</p> +<p>It was some time before he again broke the silence.</p> +<p>"Tell you what I want--you to do--for me."</p> +<p>"Well, sir--"</p> +<p>"Hold on!" gasped the invalid, shutting his eyes with +impatience,--"till I get through."</p> +<p>He lay a little while motionless, and then drew from under his +pillow a wallet, and from the wallet a pistol-ball.</p> +<p>"Took that out--a badly neglected wound--last day I saw you." +Here a pause, an appalling cough, and by and by a whisper: "Knew +the bullet in an instant." He smiled wearily. "Peculiar size." He +made a feeble motion. Frowenfeld guessed the meaning of it and +handed him a pistol from a small table. The ball slipped softly +home. "Refused two hundred dollars--those pistols"--with a sigh and +closed eyes. By and by again--"Patient had smart fever--but it will +be gone--time you get--there. Want you to--take care--t' I get +up."</p> +<p>"But, Doctor--"</p> +<p>The sick man turned away his face with a petulant frown; but +presently, with an effort at self-control, brought it back and +whispered:</p> +<p>"You mean you--not physician?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"No. No more are half--doc's. You can do it. Simple gun-shot +wound in the shoulder." A rest. "Pretty wound; ranges"--he gave up +the effort to describe it. "You'll see it." Another rest. "You +see--this matter has been kept quiet so far. I don't want any +one--else to know--anything about it." He sighed audibly and looked +as though he had gone to sleep, but whispered again, with his eyes +closed--"'specially on culprit's own account."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld was silent: but the invalid was waiting for an +answer, and, not getting it, stirred peevishly.</p> +<p>"Do you wish me to go to-night?" asked the apothecary.</p> +<p>"To-morrow morning. Will you--?"</p> +<p>"Certainly, Doctor."</p> +<p>The invalid lay quite still for several minutes, looking +steadily at his friend, and finally let a faint smile play about +his mouth,--a wan reminder of his habitual roguery.</p> +<p>"Good boy," he whispered.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld rose and straightened the bedclothes, took a few +steps about the room, and finally returned. The Doctor's restless +eye had followed him at every movement.</p> +<p>"You'll go?"</p> +<p>"Yes," replied the apothecary, hat in hand; "where is it?"</p> +<p>"Corner Bienville and Bourbon,--upper river corner,--yellow +one-story house, doorsteps on street. You know the house?"</p> +<p>"I think I do."</p> +<p>"Good-night. Here!--I wish you would send that black girl in +here--as you go out--make me better fire--Joe!" the call was a +ghostly whisper.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld paused in the door.</p> +<p>"You don't mind my--bad manners, Joe?"</p> +<p>The apothecary gave one of his infrequent smiles.</p> +<p>"No, Doctor."</p> +<p>He started toward Number 19 rue Bienville, but a light, cold +sprinkle set in, and he turned back toward his shop. No sooner had +the rain got him there than it stopped, as rain sometimes will +do.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>WARS WITHIN THE BREAST</h3> +<br> +<p>The next morning came in frigid and gray. The unseasonable +numerals which the meteorologist recorded in his tables might have +provoked a superstitious lover of better weather to suppose that +Monsieur Danny, the head imp of discord, had been among the +aërial currents. The passionate southern sky, looking down and +seeing some six thousand to seventy-five hundred of her favorite +children disconcerted and shivering, tried in vain, for two hours, +to smile upon them with a little frozen sunshine, and finally burst +into tears.</p> +<p>In thus giving way to despondency, it is sad to say, the sky was +closely imitating the simultaneous behavior of Aurora Nancanou. +Never was pretty lady in cheerier mood than that in which she had +come home from Honoré's counting-room. Hard would it be to +find the material with which to build again the castles-in-air that +she founded upon two or three little discoveries there made. Should +she tell them to Clotilde? Ah! and for what? No, Clotilde was a +dear daughter--ha! few women were capable of having such a daughter +as Clotilde; but there were things about which she was entirely too +scrupulous. So, when she came in from that errand profoundly +satisfied that she would in future hear no more about the rent than +she might choose to hear, she had been too shrewd to expose herself +to her daughter's catechising. She would save her little +revelations for disclosure when they might be used to advantage. As +she threw her bonnet upon the bed, she exclaimed, in a tone of +gentle and wearied reproach:</p> +<p>"Why did you not remind me that M. Honoré Grandissime, +that precious somebody-great, has the honor to rejoice in a +quadroon half-brother of the same illustrious name? Why did you not +remind me, eh?"</p> +<p>"Ah! and you know it as well as A, B, C," playfully retorted +Clotilde.</p> +<p>"Well, guess which one is our landlord?"</p> +<p>"Which one?"</p> +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>! how do <i>I</i> know? I had to wait a shameful +long time to see <i>Monsieur le prince</i>,--just because I am a De +Grapion, I know. When at last I saw him, he says, 'Madame, this is +the other Honoré Grandissime.' There, you see we are the +victims of a conspiracy; if I go to the other, he will send me back +to the first. But, Clotilde, my darling," cried the beautiful +speaker, beamingly, "dismiss all fear and care; we shall have no +more trouble about it."</p> +<p>"And how, indeed, do you know that?"</p> +<p>"Something tells it to me in my ear. I feel it! Trust in +Providence, my child. Look at me, how happy I am; but you--you +never trust in Providence. That is why we have so much +trouble,--because you don't trust in Providence. Oh! I am so +hungry, let us have dinner."</p> +<p>"What sort of a person is M. Grandissime in his appearance?" +asked Clotilde, over their feeble excuse for a dinner.</p> +<p>"What sort? Do you imagine I had nothing better to do than +notice whether a Grandissime is good-looking or not? For all I know +to the contrary, he is--some more rice, please, my dear."</p> +<p>But this light-heartedness did not last long. It was based on an +unutterable secret, all her own, about which she still had +trembling doubts; this, too, notwithstanding her consultation of +the dark oracles. She was going to stop that. In the long run, +these charms and spells themselves bring bad luck. Moreover, the +practice, indulged in to excess, was wicked, and she had promised +Clotilde,--that droll little saint,--to resort to them no more. +Hereafter, she should do nothing of the sort, except, to be sure, +to take such ordinary precautions against misfortune as casting +upon the floor a little of whatever she might be eating or drinking +to propitiate M. Assonquer. She would have liked, could she have +done it without fear of detection, to pour upon the front door-sill +an oblation of beer sweetened with black molasses to Papa +Lébat (who keeps the invisible keys of all the doors that +admit suitors), but she dared not; and then, the hound would surely +have licked it up. Ah me! was she forgetting that she was a +widow?</p> +<p>She was in poor plight to meet the all but icy gray morning; +and, to make her misery still greater, she found, on dressing, that +an accident had overtaken her, which she knew to be a trustworthy +sign of love grown cold. She had lost--alas! how can we communicate +it in English!--a small piece of lute-string ribbon, about <i>so +long</i>, which she used for--not a necktie exactly, but--</p> +<p>And she hunted and hunted, and couldn't bear to give up the +search, and sat down to breakfast and ate nothing, and rose up and +searched again (not that she cared for the omen), and struck the +hound with the broom, and broke the broom, and hunted again, and +looked out the front window, and saw the rain beginning to fall, +and dropped into a chair--crying, "Oh! Clotilde, my child, my +child! the rent collector will be here Saturday and turn us into +the street!" and so fell a-weeping.</p> +<p>A little tear-letting lightened her unrevealable burden, and she +rose, rejoicing that Clotilde had happened to be out of +eye-and-ear-shot. The scanty fire in the fireplace was ample to +warm the room; the fire within her made it too insufferably hot! +Rain or no rain, she parted the window-curtains and lifted the +sash. What a mark for Love's arrow she was, as, at the window, she +stretched her two arms upward! And, "right so," who should chance +to come cantering by, the big drops of rain pattering after him, +but the knightliest man in that old town, and the fittest to +perfect the fine old-fashioned poetry of the scene!</p> +<p>"Clotilde," said Aurora, turning from her mirror, whither she +had hastened to see if her face showed signs of tears (Clotilde was +entering the room), "we shall never be turned out of this house by +Honoré Grandissime!"</p> +<p>"Why?" asked Clotilde, stopping short in the floor, forgetting +Aurora's trust in Providence, and expecting to hear that M. +Grandissime had been found dead in his bed.</p> +<p>"Because I saw him just now; he rode by on horseback. A man with +that noble face could never <i>do such a thing</i>!"</p> +<p>The astonished Clotilde looked at her mother searchingly. This +sort of speech about a Grandissime? But Aurora was the picture of +innocence.</p> +<p>Clotilde uttered a derisive laugh.</p> +<p>"<i>Impertinente</i>!" exclaimed the other, laboring not to join +in it.</p> +<p>"Ah-h-h!" cried Clotilde, in the same mood, "and what face had +he when he wrote that letter?"</p> +<p>"What face?"</p> +<p>"Yes, what face?"</p> +<p>"I do not know what face you mean," said Aurora.</p> +<p>"What face," repeated Clotilde, "had Monsieur Honoré de +Grandissime on the day that he wrote--"</p> +<p>"Ah, f-fah!" cried Aurora, and turned away, "you don't know what +you are talking about! You make me wish sometimes that I were +dead!"</p> +<p>Clotilde had gone and shut down the sash, as it began to rain +hard and blow. As she was turning away, her eye was attracted by an +object at a distance.</p> +<p>"What is it?" asked Aurora, from a seat before the fire.</p> +<p>"Nothing," said Clotilde, weary of the sensational,--"a man in +the rain."</p> +<p>It was the apothecary of the rue Royale, turning from that +street toward the rue Bourbon, and bowing his head against the +swirling norther.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>FROWENFELD KEEPS HIS APPOINTMENT</h3> +<br> +<p>Doctor Keene, his ill-humor slept off, lay in bed in a quiescent +state of great mental enjoyment. At times he would smile and close +his eyes, open them again and murmur to himself, and turn his head +languidly and smile again. And when the rain and wind, all tangled +together, came against the window with a whirl and a slap, his +smile broadened almost to laughter.</p> +<p>"He's in it," he murmured, "he's just reaching there. I would +give fifty dollars to see him when he first gets into the house and +sees where he is."</p> +<p>As this wish was finding expression on the lips of the little +sick man, Joseph Frowenfeld was making room on a narrow doorstep +for the outward opening of a pair of small batten doors, upon which +he had knocked with the vigorous haste of a man in the rain. As +they parted, he hurriedly helped them open, darted within, heedless +of the odd black shape which shuffled out of his way, wheeled and +clapped them shut again, swung down the bar and then turned, and +with the good-natured face that properly goes with a ducking, +looked to see where he was.</p> +<p>One object--around which everything else instantly became +nothing--set his gaze. On the high bed, whose hangings of blue we +have already described, silently regarding the intruder with a pair +of eyes that sent an icy thrill through him and fastened him where +he stood, lay Palmyre Philosophe. Her dress was a long, snowy +morning-gown, wound loosely about at the waist with a cord and +tassel of scarlet silk; a bright-colored woollen shawl covered her +from the waist down, and a necklace of red coral heightened to its +utmost her untamable beauty.</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2188.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2188.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2188.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Silently regarding the intruder with a pair of eyes that sent +an icy chill through him<br> +and fastened him where he stood, lay Palmyre Philosophe".</b></p> +<br> +<p>An instantaneous indignation against Doctor Keene set the face +of the speechless apothecary on fire, and this, being as +instantaneously comprehended by the philosophe, was the best of +introductions. Yet her gaze did not change.</p> +<p>The Congo negress broke the spell with a bristling protest, all +in African b's and k's, but hushed and drew off at a single word of +command from her mistress.</p> +<p>In Frowenfeld's mind an angry determination was taking shape, to +be neither trifled with nor contemned. And this again the quadroon +discerned, before he was himself aware of it.</p> +<p>"Doctor Keene"--he began, but stopped, so uncomfortable were her +eyes.</p> +<p>She did not stir or reply.</p> +<p>Then he bethought him with a start, and took off his dripping +hat.</p> +<p>At this a perceptible sparkle of imperious approval shot along +her glance; it gave the apothecary speech.</p> +<p>"The doctor is sick, and he asked me to dress your wound."</p> +<p>She made the slightest discernible motion of the head, remained +for a moment silent, and then, still with the same eye, motioned +her hand toward a chair near a comfortable fire.</p> +<p>He sat down. It would be well to dry himself. He drew near the +hearth and let his gaze fall into the fire. When he presently +lifted his eyes and looked full upon the woman with a steady, +candid glance, she was regarding him with apparent coldness, but +with secret diligence and scrutiny, and a yet more inward and +secret surprise and admiration. Hard rubbing was bringing out the +grain of the apothecary. But she presently suppressed the feeling. +She hated men.</p> +<p>But Frowenfeld, even while his eyes met hers, could not resent +her hostility. This monument of the shame of two races--this +poisonous blossom of crime growing out of crime--this final, +unanswerable white man's accuser--this would-be murderess--what +ranks and companies would have to stand up in the Great Day with +her and answer as accessory before the fact! He looked again into +the fire.</p> +<p>The patient spoke:</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bi'n, Miché</i>?" Her look was severe, but less +aggressive. The shuffle of the old negress's feet was heard and she +appeared bearing warm and cold water and fresh bandages; after +depositing them she tarried.</p> +<p>"Your fever is gone," said Frowenfeld, standing by the bed. He +had laid his fingers on her wrist. She brushed them off and once +more turned full upon him the cold hostility of her passionate +eyes.</p> +<p>The apothecary, instead of blushing, turned pale.</p> +<p>"You--" he was going to say, "You insult me;" but his lips came +tightly together. Two big cords appeared between his brows, and his +blue eyes spoke for him. Then, as the returning blood rushed even +to his forehead, he said, speaking his words one by one;</p> +<p>"Please understand that you must trust me."</p> +<p>She may not have understood his English, but she comprehended, +nevertheless. She looked up fixedly for a moment, then passively +closed her eyes. Then she turned, and Frowenfeld put out one strong +arm, helped her to a sitting posture on the side of the bed and +drew the shawl about her.</p> +<p>"Zizi," she said, and the negress, who had stood perfectly still +since depositing the water and bandages, came forward and proceeded +to bare the philosophe's superb shoulder. As Frowenfeld again put +forward his hand, she lifted her own as if to prevent him, but he +kindly and firmly put it away and addressed himself with silent +diligence to his task; and by the time he had finished, his womanly +touch, his commanding gentleness, his easy despatch, had inspired +Palmyre not only with a sense of safety, comfort, and repose, but +with a pleased wonder.</p> +<p>This woman had stood all her life with dagger drawn, on the +defensive against what certainly was to her an unmerciful world. +With possibly one exception, the man now before her was the only +one she had ever encountered whose speech and gesture were clearly +keyed to that profound respect which is woman's first, foundation +claim on man. And yet, by inexorable decree, she belonged to what +we used to call "the happiest people under the sun." We ought to +stop saying that.</p> +<p>So far as Palmyre knew, the entire masculine wing of the mighty +and exalted race, three-fourths of whose blood bequeathed her none +of its prerogatives, regarded her as legitimate prey. The man +before her did not. There lay the fundamental difference that, in +her sight, as soon as she discovered it, glorified him. Before this +assurance the cold fierceness of her eyes gave way, and a +friendlier light from them rewarded the apothecary's final touch. +He called for more pillows, made a nest of them, and, as she let +herself softly into it, directed his next consideration toward his +hat and the door.</p> +<p>It was many an hour after he had backed out into the trivial +remains of the rain-storm before he could replace with more +tranquillizing images the vision of the philosophe reclining among +her pillows, in the act of making that uneasy movement of her +fingers upon the collar button of her robe, which women make when +they are uncertain about the perfection of their dishabille, and +giving her inaudible adieu with the majesty of an empress.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>FROWENFELD MAKES AN ARGUMENT</h3> +<br> +<p>On the afternoon of the same day on which Frowenfeld visited the +house of the philosophe, the weather, which had been so unfavorable +to his late plans, changed; the rain ceased, the wind drew around +to the south, and the barometer promised a clear sky. Wherefore he +decided to leave his business, when he should have made his evening +weather notes, to the care of M. Raoul Innerarity, and venture to +test both Mademoiselle Clotilde's repellent attitude and Aurora's +seeming cordiality at Number 19 rue Bienville.</p> +<p>Why he should go was a question which the apothecary felt +himself but partially prepared to answer. What necessity called +him, what good was to be effected, what was to happen next, were +points he would have liked to be clear upon. That he should be +going merely because he was invited to come--merely for the +pleasure of breathing their atmosphere--that he should be supinely +gravitating toward them--this conclusion he positively could not +allow; no, no; the love of books and the fear of women alike +protested.</p> +<p>True, they were a part of that book which is pronounced "the +proper study of mankind,"--indeed, that was probably the reason +which he sought: he was going to contemplate them as a frontispiece +to that unwriteable volume which he had undertaken to con. Also, +there was a charitable motive. Doctor Keene, months before, had +expressed a deep concern regarding their lack of protection and +even of daily provision; he must quietly look into that. Would some +unforeseen circumstance shut him off this evening again from this +very proper use of time and opportunity?</p> +<p>As he was sitting at the table in his back room, registering his +sunset observations, and wondering what would become of him if +Aurora should be out and that other in, he was startled by a loud, +deep voice exclaiming, close behind him:</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, bien! Monsieur le Professeur!</i>"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld knew by the tone, before he looked behind him, that +he would find M. Agricola Fusilier very red in the face; and when +he looked, the only qualification he could make was that the +citizen's countenance was not so ruddy as the red handkerchief in +which his arm was hanging.</p> +<p>"What have you there?" slowly continued the patriarch, taking +his free hand off his fettered arm and laying it upon the page as +Frowenfeld hurriedly rose, and endeavored to shut the book.</p> +<p>"Some private memoranda," answered the meteorologist, managing +to get one page turned backward, reddening with confusion and +indignation, and noticing that Agricola's spectacles were upside +down.</p> +<p>"Private! Eh? No such thing, sir! Professor Frowenfeld, allow +me" (a classic oath) "to say to your face, sir, that you are the +most brilliant and the most valuable man--of your years--in +afflicted Louisiana! Ha!" (reading:) "'Morning observation; +Cathedral clock, 7 A.M. Thermometer 70 degrees.' Ha! 'Hygrometer +l5'--but this is not to-day's weather? Ah! no. Ha! 'Barometer +30.380.' Ha! 'Sky cloudy, dark; wind, south, light.' Ha! 'River +rising.' Ha! Professor Frowenfeld, when will you give your splendid +services to your section? You must tell me, my son, for I ask you, +my son, not from curiosity, but out of impatient interest."</p> +<p>"I cannot say that I shall ever publish my tables," replied the +"son," pulling at the book.</p> +<p>"Then, sir, in the name of Louisiana," thundered the old man, +clinging to the book, "I can! They shall be published! Ah! yes, +dear Frowenfeld. The book, of course, will be in French, eh? You +would not so affront the most sacred prejudices of the noble people +to whom you owe everything as to publish it in English? You--ah! +have we torn it?"</p> +<p>"I do not write French," said the apothecary, laying the torn +edges together.</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld, men are born for each other. What do I +behold before me? I behold before me, in the person of my gifted +young friend, a supplement to myself! Why has Nature strengthened +the soul of Agricola to hold the crumbling fortress of this body +until these eyes--which were once, my dear boy, as proud and +piercing as the battle-steed's--have become dim?"</p> +<p>Joseph's insurmountable respect for gray hairs kept him +standing, but he did not respond with any conjecture as to Nature's +intentions, and there was a stern silence.</p> +<p>The crumbling fortress resumed, his voice pitched low like the +beginning of the long roll. He knew Nature's design.</p> +<p>"It was in order that you, Professor Frowenfeld, might become my +vicar! Your book shall be in French! We must give it a wide scope! +It shall contain valuable geographical, topographical, +biographical, and historical notes. It shall contain complete lists +of all the officials in the province (I don't say territory, I say +province) with their salaries and perquisites; ah! we will expose +that! And--ha! I will write some political essays for it. Raoul +shall illustrate it. Honoré shall give you money to publish +it. Ah! Professor Frowenfeld, the star of your fame is rising out +of the waves of oblivion! Come--I dropped in purposely to ask +you--come across the street and take a glass of <i>taffia</i> with +Agricola Fusilier."</p> +<p>This crowning honor the apothecary was insane enough to decline, +and Agricola went away with many professions of endearment, but +secretly offended because Joseph had not asked about his wound.</p> +<p>All the same the apothecary, without loss of time, departed for +the yellow-washed cottage, Number 19 rue Bienville.</p> +<p>"To-morrow, at four P.M.," he said to himself, "if the weather +is favorable, I ride with M. Grandissime."</p> +<p>He almost saw his books and instruments look up at him +reproachfully.</p> +<p>The ladies were at home. Aurora herself opened the door, and +Clotilde came forward from the bright fireplace with a cordiality +never before so unqualified. There was something about these +ladies--in their simple, but noble grace, in their half-Gallic, +half-classic beauty, in a jocund buoyancy mated to an amiable +dignity--that made them appear to the scholar as though they had +just bounded into life from the garlanded procession of some old +fresco. The resemblance was not a little helped on by the costume +of the late Revolution (most acceptably chastened and belated by +the distance from Paris). Their black hair, somewhat heavier on +Clotilde's head, where it rippled once or twice, was knotted <i>en +Grecque</i>, and adorned only with the spoils of a nosegay given to +Clotilde by a chivalric small boy in the home of her music +scholar.</p> +<p>"We was expectin' you since several days," said Clotilde, as the +three sat down before the fire, Frowenfeld in a cushioned chair +whose moth-holes had been carefully darned.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld intimated, with tolerable composure, that matters +beyond his control had delayed his coming, beyond his +intention.</p> +<p>"You gedd'n' ridge," said Aurora, dropping her wrists across +each other.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, for once, laughed outright, and it seemed so odd in +him to do so that both the ladies followed his example. The +ambition to be rich had never entered his thought, although in an +unemotional, German way, he was prospering in a little city where +wealth was daily pouring in, and a man had only to keep step, so to +say, to march into possessions.</p> +<p>"You hought to 'ave a mo' larger sto' an' some clerque," pursued +Aurora.</p> +<p>The apothecary answered that he was contemplating the +enlargement of his present place or removal to a roomier, and that +he had already employed an assistant.</p> +<p>"Oo it is, 'Sieur Frowenfel'?"</p> +<p>Clotilde turned toward the questioner a remonstrative +glance.</p> +<p>"His name," replied Frowenfeld, betraying a slight +embarrassment, "is--Innerarity; Mr. Raoul Innerarity; he is--"</p> +<p>"Ee pain' dad pigtu' w'at 'angin' in yo' window?"</p> +<p>Clotilde's remonstrance rose to a slight movement and a +murmur.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld answered in the affirmative, and possibly betrayed +the faint shadow of a smile. The response was a peal of laughter +from both ladies.</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2198.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2198.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2198.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"On their part, they would sit in deep attention, shielding +their faces from the fire, and responding to enunciations directly +contrary to their convictions with an occasional 'yes-seh,' or +'ceddenly,' or 'of coze,' or,--prettier affirmation still,--a +solemn drooping of the eyelids".</b></p> +<br> +<p>"He is an excellent drug clerk," said Frowenfeld +defensively.</p> +<p>Whereat Aurora laughed again, leaning over and touching +Clotilde's knee with one finger.</p> +<p>"An' excellen' drug cl'--ha, ha, ha! oh!"</p> +<p>"You muz podden uz, M'sieu' Frowenfel'," said Clotilde, with +forced gravity.</p> +<p>Aurora sighed her participation in the apology; and, a few +moments later, the apothecary and both ladies (the one as fond of +the abstract as the other two were ignorant of the concrete) were +engaged in an animated, running discussion on art, society, +climate, education,--all those large, secondary <i>desiderata</i> +which seem of first importance to young ambition and secluded +beauty, flying to and fro among these subjects with all the +liveliness and uncertainty of a game of pussy-wants-a-corner.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld had never before spent such an hour. At its +expiration, he had so well held his own against both the others, +that the three had settled down to this sort of entertainment: +Aurora would make an assertion, or Clotilde would ask a question; +and Frowenfeld, moved by that frankness and ardent zeal for truth +which had enlisted the early friendship of Dr. Keene, amused and +attracted Honoré Grandissime, won the confidence of the +f.m.c., and tamed the fiery distrust and enmity of Palmyre, would +present his opinions without the thought of a reservation either in +himself or his hearers. On their part, they would sit in deep +attention, shielding their faces from the fire, and responding to +enunciations directly contrary to their convictions with an +occasional "yes-seh," or "ceddenly," or "of coze," or,--prettier +affirmation still,--a solemn drooping of the eyelids, a slight +compression of the lips, and a low, slow declination of the +head.</p> +<p>"The bane of all Creole art-effort"--(we take up the +apothecary's words at a point where Clotilde was leaning forward +and slightly frowning in an honest attempt to comprehend his +condensed English)--"the bane of all Creole art-effort, so far as I +have seen it, is amateurism."</p> +<p>"Amateu--" murmured Clotilde, a little beclouded on the main +word and distracted by a French difference of meaning, but planting +an elbow on one knee in the genuineness of her attention, and +responding with a bow.</p> +<p>"That is to say," said Frowenfeld, apologizing for the +homeliness of his further explanation by a smile, "a kind of +ambitious indolence that lays very large eggs, but can neither see +the necessity for building a nest beforehand, nor command the +patience to hatch the eggs afterward."</p> +<p>"Of coze," said Aurora.</p> +<p>"It is a great pity," said the sermonizer, looking at the face +of Clotilde, elongated in the brass andiron; and, after a pause: +"Nothing on earth can take the place of hard and patient labor. But +that, in this community, is not esteemed; most sorts of it are +contemned; the humbler sorts are despised, and the higher are +regarded with mingled patronage and commiseration. Most of those +who come to my shop with their efforts at art hasten to explain, +either that they are merely seeking pastime, or else that they are +driven to their course by want; and if I advise them to take their +work back and finish it, they take it back and never return. +Industry is not only despised, but has been degraded and disgraced, +handed over into the hands of African savages."</p> +<p>"Doze Creole' is <i>lezzy</i>," said Aurora.</p> +<p>"That is a hard word to apply to those who do not +<i>consciously</i> deserve it," said Frowenfeld; "but if they could +only wake up to the fact,--find it out themselves--"</p> +<p>"Ceddenly," said Clotilde.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Aurora, leaning her head on one side, +"some pipple thing it is doze climade; 'ow you lag doze +climade?"</p> +<p>"I do not suppose," replied the visitor, "there is a more +delightful climate in the world."</p> +<p>"Ah-h-h!"--both ladies at once, in a low, gracious tone of +acknowledgment.</p> +<p>"I thing Louisiana is a paradize-me!" said Aurora. "W'ere you +goin' fin' sudge a h-air?" She respired a sample of it. "W'ere you +goin' fin' sudge a so ridge groun'? De weed' in my bag yard is +twenny-five feet 'igh!"</p> +<p>"Ah! maman!"</p> +<p>"Twenty-six!" said Aurora, correcting herself. "W'ere you fin' +sudge a reever lag dad Mississippi? <i>On dit</i>," she said, +turning to Clotilde, "<i>que ses eaux ont la +propriété de contribuer même à +multiplier l'espèce humaine</i>--ha, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>Clotilde turned away an unmoved countenance to hear +Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld had contracted a habit of falling into meditation +whenever the French language left him out of the conversation.</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, breaking a contemplative pause, "the climate is +<i>too</i> comfortable and the soil too rich,--though I do not +think it is entirely on their account that the people who enjoy +them are so sadly in arrears to the civilized world." He blushed +with the fear that his talk was bookish, and felt grateful to +Clotilde for seeming to understand his speech.</p> +<p>"W'ad you fin' de rizzon is, 'Sieur Frowenfel'?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I do not wish to philosophize," he answered.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, go hon." "<i>Mais</i>, go ahade," said both +ladies, settling themselves.</p> +<p>"It is largely owing," exclaimed Frowenfeld, with sudden fervor, +"to a defective organization of society, which keeps this +community, and will continue to keep it for an indefinite time to +come, entirely unprepared and disinclined to follow the course of +modern thought."</p> +<p>"Of coze," murmured Aurora, who had lost her bearings almost at +the first word.</p> +<p>"One great general subject of thought now is human +rights,--universal human rights. The entire literature of the world +is becoming tinctured with contradictions of the dogmas upon which +society in this section is built. Human rights is, of all subjects, +the one upon which this community is most violently determined to +hear no discussion. It has pronounced that slavery and caste are +right, and sealed up the whole subject. What, then, will they do +with the world's literature? They will coldly decline to look at +it, and will become, more and more as the world moves on, a +comparatively illiterate people."</p> +<p>"Bud, 'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Clotilde, as Frowenfeld +paused--Aurora was stunned to silence,--"de Unitee State' goin' pud +doze nigga' free, aind it?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld pushed his hair hard back. He was in the stream now, +and might as well go through.</p> +<p>"I have heard that charge made, even by some Americans. I do not +know. But there is a slavery that no legislation can abolish,--the +slavery of caste. That, like all the slaveries on earth, is a +double bondage. And what a bondage it is which compels a community, +in order to preserve its established tyrannies, to walk behind the +rest of the intelligent world! What a bondage is that which incites +a people to adopt a system of social and civil distinctions, +possessing all the enormities and none of the advantages of those +systems which Europe is learning to despise! This system, moreover, +is only kept up by a flourish of weapons. We have here what you may +call an armed aristocracy. The class over which these instruments +of main force are held is chosen for its servility, ignorance, and +cowardice; hence, indolence in the ruling class. When a man's +social or civil standing is not dependent on his knowing how to +read, he is not likely to become a scholar."</p> +<p>"Of coze," said Aurora, with a pensive respiration, "I thing id +is doze climade," and the apothecary stopped, as a man should who +finds himself unloading large philosophy in a little parlor.</p> +<p>"I thing, me, dey hought to pud doze quadroon' free?" It was +Clotilde who spoke, ending with the rising inflection to indicate +the tentative character of this daringly premature declaration.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld did not answer hastily.</p> +<p>"The quadroons," said he, "want a great deal more than mere free +papers can secure them. Emancipation before the law, though it may +be a right which man has no right to withhold, is to them little +more than a mockery until they achieve emancipation in the minds +and good will of the people--'the people,' did I say? I mean the +ruling class." He stopped again. One must inevitably feel a little +silly, setting up tenpins for ladies who are too polite, even if +able, to bowl them down.</p> +<p>Aurora and the visitor began to speak simultaneously; both +apologized, and Aurora said:</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', w'en I was a lill girl,"--and Frowenfeld +knew that he was going to hear the story of Palmyre. Clotilde +moved, with the obvious intention to mend the fire. Aurora asked, +in French, why she did not call the cook to do it, and Frowenfeld +said, "Let me,"--threw on some wood, and took a seat nearer +Clotilde. Aurora had the floor.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>AURORA AS A HISTORIAN</h3> +<br> +<p>Alas! the phonograph was invented three-quarters of a century +too late. If type could entrap one-half the pretty oddities of +Aurora's speech,--the arch, the pathetic, the grave, the earnest, +the matter-of-fact, the ecstatic tones of her voice,--nay, could it +but reproduce the movement of her hands, the eloquence of her eyes, +or the shapings of her mouth,--ah! but type--even the +phonograph--is such an inadequate thing! Sometimes she laughed; +sometimes Clotilde, unexpectedly to herself, joined her; and twice +or thrice she provoked a similar demonstration from the ox-like +apothecary,--to her own intense amusement. Sometimes she shook her +head in solemn scorn; and, when Frowenfeld, at a certain point +where Palmyre's fate locked hands for a time with that of +Bras-Coupé, asked a fervid question concerning that strange +personage, tears leaped into her eyes, as she said:</p> +<p>"Ah! 'Sieur Frowenfel', iv I tra to tell de sto'y of +Bras-Coupé, I goin' to cry lag a lill bebby."</p> +<p>The account of the childhood days upon the plantation at Cannes +Brulées may be passed by. It was early in Palmyre's +fifteenth year that that Kentuckian, 'mutual friend' of her master +and Agricola, prevailed with M. de Grapion to send her to the +paternal Grandissime mansion,--a complimentary gift, through +Agricola, to Mademoiselle, his niece,--returnable ten years after +date.</p> +<p>The journey was made in safety; and, by and by, Palmyre was +presented to her new mistress. The occasion was notable. In a great +chair in the centre sat the <i>grandpère</i>, a Chevalier de +Grandissime, whose business had narrowed down to sitting on the +front veranda and wearing his decorations,--the cross of St. Louis +being one; on his right, Colonel Numa Grandissime, with one arm +dropped around Honoré, then a boy of Palmyre's age, +expecting to be off in sixty days for France; and on the left, with +Honoré's fair sister nestled against her, "Madame Numa," as +the Creoles would call her, a stately woman and beautiful, a great +admirer of her brother Agricola. (Aurora took pains to explain that +she received these minutiae from Palmyre herself in later years.) +One other member of the group was a young don of some twenty years' +age, not an inmate of the house, but only a cousin of Aurora on her +deceased mother's side. To make the affair complete, and as a seal +to this tacit Grandissime-de-Grapion treaty, this sole available +representative of the "other side" was made a guest for the +evening. Like the true Spaniard that he was, Don José +Martinez fell deeply in love with Honoré's sister. Then +there came Agricola leading in Palmyre. There were others, for the +Grandissime mansion was always full of Grandissimes; but this was +the central group.</p> +<p>In this house Palmyre grew to womanhood, retaining without +interruption the place into which she seemed to enter by right of +indisputable superiority over all competitors,--the place of +favorite attendant to the sister of Honoré. Attendant, we +say, for servant she never seemed. She grew tall, arrowy, lithe, +imperial, diligent, neat, thorough, silent. Her new mistress, +though scarcely at all her senior, was yet distinctly her mistress; +she had that through her Fusilier blood; experience was just then +beginning to show that the Fusilier Grandissime was a superb +variety; she was a mistress one could wish to obey. Palmyre loved +her, and through her contact ceased, for a time, at least, to be +the pet leopard she had been at the Cannes Brulées.</p> +<p>Honoré went away to Paris only sixty days after Palmyre +entered the house. But even that was not soon enough.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Aurora, in her recital, "Palmyre, she +never tole me dad, <i>mais</i> I am shoe, <i>shoe</i> dad she fall +in love wid Honoré Grandissime. 'Sieur Frowenfel', I thing +dad Honoré Grandissime is one bad man, ent it? Whad you +thing, 'Sieur Frowenfel'?"</p> +<p>"I think, as I said to you the last time, that he is one of the +best, as I know that he is one of the kindest and most enlightened +gentlemen in the city," said the apothecary.</p> +<p>"Ah, 'Sieur Frowenfel'! ha, ha!"</p> +<p>"That is my conviction."</p> +<p>The lady went on with her story.</p> +<p>"Hanny'ow, I know she <i>con</i>tinue in love wid 'im all doze +ten year' w'at 'e been gone. She baig Mademoiselle Grandissime to +wrad dad ledder to my papa to ass to kip her two years mo'."</p> +<p>Here Aurora carefully omitted that episode which Doctor Keene +had related to Frowenfeld,--her own marriage and removal to Fausse +Rivière, the visit of her husband to the city, his +unfortunate and finally fatal affair with Agricola, and the +surrender of all her land and slaves to that successful +duellist.</p> +<p>M. de Grapion, through all that, stood by his engagement +concerning Palmyre; and, at the end of ten years, to his own +astonishment, responded favorably to a letter from Honoré's +sister, irresistible for its goodness, good sense, and eloquent +pleading, asking leave to detain Palmyre two years longer; but this +response came only after the old master and his pretty, stricken +Aurora had wept over it until they were weak and gentle,--and was +not a response either, but only a silent consent.</p> +<p>Shortly before the return of Honoré--and here it was that +Aurora took up again the thread of her account--while his mother, +long-widowed, reigned in the paternal mansion, with Agricola for +her manager, Bras-Coupé appeared. From that advent, and the +long and varied mental sufferings which its consequences brought +upon her, sprang that second change in Palmyre, which made her +finally untamable, and ended in a manumission, granted her more for +fear than for conscience' sake. When Aurora attempted to tell those +experiences, even leaving Bras-Coupé as much as might be out +of the recital, she choked with tears at the very start, stopped, +laughed, and said:</p> +<p>"<i>C'est tout</i>--daz all. 'Sieur Frowenfel', oo you fine dad +pigtu' to loog lag, yonnah, hon de wall?"</p> +<p>She spoke as if he might have overlooked it, though twenty +times, at least, in the last hour, she had seen him glance at +it.</p> +<p>"It is a good likeness," said the apothecary, turning to +Clotilde, yet showing himself somewhat puzzled in the matter of the +costume.</p> +<p>The ladies laughed.</p> +<p>"Daz ma grade-gran'-mamma," said Clotilde.</p> +<p>"Dass one <i>fille à la cassette</i>," said Aurora, "my +gran'-muzzah; <i>mais</i>, ad de sem tarn id is Clotilde." She +touched her daughter under the chin with a ringed finger. "Clotilde +is my gran'-mamma."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld rose to go.</p> +<p>"You muz come again, 'Sieur Frowenfel'," said both ladies, in a +breath.</p> +<p>What could he say?</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>A RIDE AND A RESCUE</h3> +<br> +<p>"Douane or Bienville?"</p> +<p>Such was the choice presented by Honoré Grandissime to +Joseph Frowenfeld, as the former on a lively brown colt and the +apothecary on a nervy chestnut fell into a gentle, preliminary trot +while yet in the rue Royale, looked after by that great admirer of +both, Raoul Innerarity.</p> +<p>"Douane?" said Frowenfeld. (It was the street we call +Custom-house.)</p> +<p>"It has mud-holes," objected Honoré.</p> +<p>"Well, then, the rue du Canal?"</p> +<p>"The canal--I can smell it from here. Why not rue +Bienville?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld said he did not know. (We give the statement for what +it is worth.)</p> +<p>Notice their route. A spirit of perversity seems to have entered +into the very topography of this quarter. They turned up the rue +Bienville (up is toward the river); reaching the levee, they took +their course up the shore of the Mississippi (almost due south), +and broke into a lively gallop on the Tchoupitoulas road, which in +those days skirted that margin of the river nearest the sunsetting, +namely, the <i>eastern</i> bank.</p> +<p>Conversation moved sluggishly for a time, halting upon trite +topics or swinging easily from polite inquiry to mild affirmation, +and back again. They were men of thought, these two, and one of +them did not fully understand why he was in his present position; +hence some reticence. It was one of those afternoons in early March +that make one wonder how the rest of the world avoids emigrating to +Louisiana in a body.</p> +<p>"Is not the season early?" asked Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime believed it was; but then the Creole spring +always seemed so, he said.</p> +<p>The land was an inverted firmament of flowers. The birds were an +innumerable, busy, joy-compelling multitude, darting and fluttering +hither and thither, as one might imagine the babes do in heaven. +The orange-groves were in blossom; their dark-green boughs seemed +snowed upon from a cloud of incense, and a listening ear might +catch an incessant, whispered trickle of falling petals, dropping +"as the honey-comb." The magnolia was beginning to add to its dark +and shining evergreen foliage frequent sprays of pale new leaves +and long, slender, buff buds of others yet to come. The oaks, both +the bare-armed and the "green-robed senators," the willows, and the +plaqueminiers, were putting out their subdued florescence as if +they smiled in grave participation with the laughing gardens. The +homes that gave perfection to this beauty were those old, large, +belvidered colonial villas, of which you may still here and there +see one standing, battered into half ruin, high and broad, among +foundries, cotton-and tobacco-sheds, junk-yards, and longshoremen's +hovels, like one unconquered elephant in a wreck of artillery. In +Frowenfeld's day the "smell of their garments was like Lebanon." +They were seen by glimpses through chance openings in lofty hedges +of Cherokee-rose or bois-d'arc, under boughs of cedar or +pride-of-China, above their groves of orange or down their long, +overarched avenues of oleander; and the lemon and the pomegranate, +the banana, the fig, the shaddock, and at times even the mango and +the guava, joined "hands around" and tossed their fragrant locks +above the lilies and roses. Frowenfeld forgot to ask himself +further concerning the probable intent of M. Grandissime's +invitation to ride; these beauties seemed rich enough in good +reasons. He felt glad and grateful.</p> +<p>At a certain point the two horses turned of their own impulse, +as by force of habit, and with a few clambering strides mounted to +the top of the levee and stood still, facing the broad, dancing, +hurrying, brimming river.</p> +<p>The Creole stole an amused glance at the elated, self-forgetful +look of his immigrant friend.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld," he said, as the delighted apothecary turned +with unwonted suddenness and saw his smile, "I believe you like +this better than discussion. You find it easier to be in harmony +with Louisiana than with Louisianians, eh?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld colored with surprise. Something unpleasant had +lately occurred in his shop. Was this to signify that M. +Grandissime had heard of it?</p> +<p>"I am a Louisianian," replied he, as if this were a point +assailed.</p> +<p>"I would not insinuate otherwise," said M. Grandissime, with a +kindly gesture. "I would like you to feel so. We are citizens now +of a different government from that under which we lived the +morning we first met. Yet"--the Creole paused and smiled--"you are +not, and I am glad you are not, what we call a Louisianian."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's color increased. He turned quickly in his saddle as +if to say something very positive, but hesitated, restrained +himself and asked:</p> +<p>"Mr. Grandissime, is not your Creole 'we' a word that does much +damage?"</p> +<p>The Creole's response was at first only a smile, followed by a +thoughtful countenance; but he presently said, with some +suddenness:</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh, yes. Yet you see I am, even this moment, forgetting +we are not a separate people. Yes, our Creole 'we' does damage, and +our Creole 'you' does more. I assure you, sir, I try hard to get my +people to understand that it is time to stop calling those who come +and add themselves to the community, aliens, interlopers, invaders. +That is what I hear my cousins, 'Polyte and Sylvestre, in the heat +of discussion, called you the other evening; is it so?"</p> +<p>"I brought it upon myself," said Frowenfeld. "I brought it upon +myself."</p> +<p>"Ah!" interrupted M. Grandissime, with a broad smile, "excuse +me--I am fully prepared to believe it. But the charge is a false +one. I told them so. My-de'-seh--I know that a citizen of the +United States in the United States has a right to become, and to be +called, under the laws governing the case, a Louisianian, a +Vermonter, or a Virginian, as it may suit his whim; and even if he +should be found dishonest or dangerous, he has a right to be +treated just exactly as we treat the knaves and ruffians who are +native born! Every discreet man must admit that."</p> +<p>"But if they do not enforce it, Mr. Grandissime," quickly +responded the sore apothecary, "if they continually forget it--if +one must surrender himself to the errors and crimes of the +community as he finds it--"</p> +<p>The Creole uttered a low laugh.</p> +<p>"Party differences, Mr. Frowenfeld; they have them in all +countries."</p> +<p>"So your cousins said," said Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"And how did you answer them?"</p> +<p>"Offensively," said the apothecary, with sincere +mortification.</p> +<p>"Oh! that was easy," replied the other, amusedly; "but how?"</p> +<p>"I said that, having here only such party differences as are +common elsewhere, we do not behave as they elsewhere do; that in +most civilized countries the immigrant is welcome, but here he is +not. I am afraid I have not learned the art of courteous debate," +said Frowenfeld, with a smile of apology.</p> +<p>"'Tis a great art," said the Creole, quietly, stroking his +horse's neck. "I suppose my cousins denied your statement with +indignation, eh?"</p> +<p>"Yes; they said the honest immigrant is always welcome."</p> +<p>"Well, do you not find that true?"</p> +<p>"But, Mr. Grandissime, that is requiring the immigrant to prove +his innocence!" Frowenfeld spoke from the heart. "And even the +honest immigrant is welcome only when he leaves his peculiar +opinions behind him. Is that right, sir?"</p> +<p>The Creole smiled at Frowenfeld's heat.</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh, my cousins complain that you advocate measures +fatal to the prevailing order of society."</p> +<p>"But," replied the unyielding Frowenfeld, turning redder than +ever, "that is the very thing that American liberty gives me the +right--peaceably--to do! Here is a structure of society defective, +dangerous, erected on views of human relations which the world is +abandoning as false; yet the immigrant's welcome is modified with +the warning not to touch these false foundations with one of his +fingers."</p> +<p>"Did you tell my cousins the foundations of society here are +false?"</p> +<p>"I regret to say I did, very abruptly. I told them they were +privately aware of the fact."</p> +<p>"You may say," said the ever-amiable Creole, "that you allowed +debate to run into controversy, eh?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld was silent; he compared the gentleness of this +Creole's rebukes with the asperity of his advocacy of right, and +felt humiliated. But M. Grandissime spoke with a rallying +smile.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, you never make pills with eight corners +eh?"</p> +<p>"No, sir." The apothecary smiled.</p> +<p>"No, you make them round; cannot you make your doctrines the +same way? My-de'-seh, you will think me impertinent; but the reason +I speak is because I wish very much that you and my cousins would +not be offended with each other. To tell you the truth, my-de'-seh, +I hoped to use you with them--pardon my frankness."</p> +<p>"If Louisiana had more men like you, M. Grandissime," cried the +untrained Frowenfeld, "society would be less sore to the +touch."</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh," said the Creole, laying his hand out toward his +companion and turning his horse in such a way as to turn the other +also, "do me one favor; remember that it <i>is</i> sore to the +touch."</p> +<p>The animals picked their steps down the inner face of the levee +and resumed their course up the road at a walk.</p> +<p>"Did you see that man just turn the bend of the road, away +yonder?" the Creole asked.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Did you recognize him?"</p> +<p>"It was--my landlord, wasn't it?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Did he not have a conversation with you lately, too?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir; why do you ask?"</p> +<p>"It has had a bad effect on him. I wonder why he is out here on +foot?"</p> +<p>The horses quickened their paces. The two friends rode along in +silence. Frowenfeld noticed his companion frequently cast an eye up +along the distant sunset shadows of the road with a new anxiety. +Yet, when M. Grandissime broke the silence it was only to say:</p> +<p>"I suppose you find the blemishes in our state of society can +all be attributed to one main defect, Mr. Frowenfeld?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld was glad of the chance to answer:</p> +<p>"I have not overlooked that this society has disadvantages as +well as blemishes; it is distant from enlightened centres; it has a +language and religion different from that of the great people of +which it is now called to be a part. That it has also positive +blemishes of organism--"</p> +<p>"Yes," interrupted the Creole, smiling at the immigrant's sudden +magnanimity, "its positive blemishes; do they all spring from one +main defect?"</p> +<p>"I think not. The climate has its influence, the soil has its +influence--dwellers in swamps cannot be mountaineers."</p> +<p>"But after all," persisted the Creole, "the greater part of our +troubles comes from--"</p> +<p>"Slavery," said Frowenfeld, "or rather caste."</p> +<p>"Exactly," said M. Grandissime.</p> +<p>"You surprise me, sir," said the simple apothecary. "I supposed +you were--"</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh," exclaimed M. Grandissime, suddenly becoming very +earnest, "I am nothing, nothing! There is where you have the +advantage of me. I am but a <i>dilettante</i>, whether in politics, +in philosophy, morals, or religion. I am afraid to go deeply into +anything, lest it should make ruin in my name, my family, my +property."</p> +<p>He laughed unpleasantly.</p> +<p>The question darted into Frowenfeld's mind, whether this might +not be a hint of the matter that M. Grandissime had been trying to +see him about.</p> +<p>"Mr. Grandissime," he said, "I can hardly believe you would +neglect a duty either for family, property, or society."</p> +<p>"Well, you mistake," said the Creole, so coldly that Frowenfeld +colored.</p> +<p>They galloped on. M. Grandissime brightened again, almost to the +degree of vivacity. By and by they slackened to a slow trot and +were silent. The gardens had been long left behind, and they were +passing between continuous Cherokee-rose hedges on the right and on +the left, along that bend of the Mississippi where its waters, +glancing off three miles above from the old De Macarty levee (now +Carrollton), at the slightest opposition in the breeze go whirling +and leaping like a herd of dervishes across to the ever-crumbling +shore, now marked by the little yellow depot-house of Westwego. +Miles up the broad flood the sun was disappearing gorgeously. From +their saddles, the two horsemen feasted on the scene without +comment.</p> +<p>But presently, M. Grandissime uttered a low ejaculation and +spurred his horse toward a tree hard by, preparing, as he went, to +fasten his rein to an overhanging branch. Frowenfeld, agreeable to +his beckon, imitated the movement.</p> +<p>"I fear he intends to drown himself," whispered M. Grandissime, +as they hurriedly dismounted.</p> +<p>"Who? Not--"</p> +<p>"Yes, your landlord, as you call him. He is on the flatboat; I +saw his hat over the levee. When we get on top the levee, we must +get right into it. But do not follow him into the water in front of +the flat; it is certain death; no power of man could keep you from +going under it."</p> +<p>The words were quickly spoken; they scrambled to the levee's +crown. Just abreast of them lay a flatboat, emptied of its cargo +and moored to the levee. They leaped into it. A human figure +swerved from the onset of the Creole and ran toward the bow of the +boat, and in an instant more would have been in the river.</p> +<p>"Stop!" said Frowenfeld, seizing the unresisting f.m.c. firmly +by the collar.</p> +<p>Honoré Grandissime smiled, partly at the apothecary's +brief speech, but much more at his success.</p> +<p>"Let him go, Mr. Frowenfeld," he said, as he came near.</p> +<p>The silent man turned away his face with a gesture of shame.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime, in a gentle voice, exchanged a few words with +him, and he turned and walked away, gained the shore, descended the +levee, and took a foot-path which soon hid him behind a hedge.</p> +<p>"He gives his pledge not to try again," said the Creole, as the +two companions proceeded to resume the saddle. "Do not look after +him." (Joseph had cast a searching look over the hedge.)</p> +<p>They turned homeward.</p> +<p>"Ah! Mr. Frowenfeld," said the Creole, suddenly, "if the +<i>immygrant</i> has cause of complaint, how much more has +<i>that</i> man! True, it is only love for which he would have just +now drowned himself; yet what an accusation, my-de'-seh, is his +whole life against that 'caste' which shuts him up within its +narrow and almost solitary limits! And yet, Mr. Frowenfeld, this +people esteem this very same crime of caste the holiest and most +precious of their virtues. My-de'-seh, it never occurs to us that +in this matter we are interested, and therefore disqualified, +witnesses. We say we are not understood; that the jury (the +civilized world) renders its decision without viewing the body; +that we are judged from a distance. We forget that we ourselves are +too <i>close</i> to see distinctly, and so continue, a spectacle to +civilization, sitting in a horrible darkness, my-de'-seh!" He +frowned.</p> +<p>"The shadow of the Ethiopian," said the grave apothecary.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime's quick gesture implied that Frowenfeld had said +the very word.</p> +<p>"Ah! my-de'-seh, when I try sometimes to stand outside and look +at it, I am <i>ama-aze</i> at the length, the blackness of that +shadow!" (He was so deeply in earnest that he took no care of his +English.) "It is the <i>Némésis</i> w'ich, instead of +coming afteh, glides along by the side of this morhal, political, +commercial, social mistake! It blanches, my-de'-seh, ow whole +civilization! It drhags us a centurhy behind the rhes' of the +world! It rhetahds and poisons everhy industrhy we got!--mos' of +all our-h immense agrhicultu'e! It brheeds a thousan' cusses that +nevva leave home but jus' flutter-h up an' rhoost, my-de'-seh, on +ow <i>heads</i>; an' we nevva know it!--yes, sometimes some of us +know it."</p> +<p>He changed the subject.</p> +<p>They had repassed the ruins of Fort St. Louis, and were well +within the precincts of the little city, when, as they pulled up +from a final gallop, mention was made of Doctor Keene. He was +improving; Honoré had seen him that morning; so, at another +hour, had Frowenfeld. Doctor Keene had told Honoré about +Palmyre's wound.</p> +<p>"You was at her house again this morning?" asked the Creole.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime shook his head warningly.</p> +<p>"'Tis a dangerous business. You are almost sure to become the +object of slander. You ought to tell Doctor Keene to make some +other arrangement, or presently you, too, will be under the--" he +lowered his voice, for Frowenfeld was dismounting at the shop door, +and three or four acquaintances stood around--"under the 'shadow of +the Ethiopian.'"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>THE FÊTE DE GRANDPÈRE</h3> +<br> +<p>Sojourners in New Orleans who take their afternoon drive down +Esplanade street will notice, across on the right, between it and +that sorry streak once fondly known as Champs +Élysées, two or three large, old houses, rising above +the general surroundings and displaying architectural features +which identify them with an irrevocable past--a past when the +faithful and true Creole could, without fear of contradiction, +express his religious belief that the antipathy he felt for the +Américain invader was an inborn horror laid lengthwise in +his ante-natal bones by a discriminating and appreciative +Providence. There is, for instance, or was until lately, one house +which some hundred and fifteen years ago was the suburban residence +of the old sea-captain governor, Kerlerec. It stands up among the +oranges as silent and gray as a pelican, and, so far as we know, +has never had one cypress plank added or subtracted since its +master was called to France and thrown into the Bastile. Another +has two dormer windows looking out westward, and, when the setting +sun strikes the panes, reminds one of a man with spectacles +standing up in an audience, searching for a friend who is not there +and will never come back. These houses are the last remaining--if, +indeed, they were not pulled down yesterday--of a group that once +marked from afar the direction of the old highway between the +city's walls and the suburb St. Jean. Here clustered the earlier +aristocracy of the colony; all that pretty crew of counts, +chevaliers, marquises, colonels, dons, etc., who loved their kings, +and especially their kings' moneys, with an <i>abandon</i> which +affected the accuracy of nearly all their accounts.</p> +<p>Among these stood the great mother-mansion of the Grandissimes. +Do not look for it now; it is quite gone. The round, +white-plastered brick pillars which held the house fifteen feet up +from the reeking ground and rose on loftily to sustain the great +overspreading roof, or clustered in the cool, paved basement; the +lofty halls, with their multitudinous glitter of gilded brass and +twinkle of sweet-smelling wax-candles; the immense encircling +veranda, where twenty Creole girls might walk abreast; the great +front stairs, descending from the veranda to the garden, with a +lofty palm on either side, on whose broad steps forty Grandissimes +could gather on a birthday afternoon; and the belvidere, whence you +could see the cathedral, the Ursulines', the governor's mansion, +and the river, far away, shining between the villas of +Tchoupitoulas Coast--all have disappeared as entirely beyond recall +as the flowers that bloomed in the gardens on the day of this +<i>fête de grandpère</i>.</p> +<p>Odd to say, it was not the grandpère's birthday that had +passed. For weeks the happy children of the many Grandissime +branches--the Mandarins, the St. Blancards, the Brahmins--had been +standing with their uplifted arms apart, awaiting the signal to +clap hands and jump, and still, from week to week, the appointed +day had been made to fall back, and fall back before--what think +you?--an inability to understand Honoré.</p> +<p>It was a sad paradox in the history of this majestic old house +that her best child gave her the most annoyance; but it had long +been so. Even in Honoré's early youth, a scant two years +after she had watched him, over the tops of her green myrtles and +white and crimson oleanders, go away, a lad of fifteen, supposing +he would of course come back a Grandissime of the Grandissimes--an +inflexible of the inflexibles--he was found "inciting" (so the +stately dames and officials who graced her front veranda called it) +a Grandissime-De Grapion reconciliation by means of transatlantic +letters, and reducing the flames of the old feud, rekindled by the +Fusilier-Nancanou duel, to a little foul smoke. The main difficulty +seemed to be that Honoré could not be satisfied with a clean +conscience as to his own deeds and the peace and fellowships of +single households; his longing was, and had ever been-- he had +inherited it from his father--to see one unbroken and harmonious +Grandissime family gathering yearly under this venerated roof +without reproach before all persons, classes, and races with whom +they had ever had to do. It was not hard for the old mansion to +forgive him once or twice; but she had had to do it often. It seems +no over-stretch of fancy to say she sometimes gazed down upon his +erring ways with a look of patient sadness in her large and +beautiful windows.</p> +<p>And how had that forbearance been rewarded? Take one short +instance: when, seven years before this present <i>fête de +grandpère</i>, he came back from Europe, and she (this old +home which we cannot help but personify), though in trouble then--a +trouble that sent up the old feud flames again--opened her halls to +rejoice in him with the joy of all her gathered families, he +presently said such strange things in favor of indiscriminate human +freedom that for very shame's sake she hushed them up, in the fond +hope that he would outgrow such heresies. But he? On top of all the +rest, he declined a military commission and engaged in +commerce--"shopkeeping, <i>parbleu!</i>"</p> +<p>However, therein was developed a grain of consolation. +Honoré became--as he chose to call it--more prudent. With +much tact, Agricola was amiably crowded off the dictator's chair, +to become, instead, a sort of seneschal. For a time the family +peace was perfect, and Honoré, by a touch here to-day and a +word there to-morrow, was ever lifting the name, and all who bore +it, a little and a little higher; when suddenly, as in his father's +day--that dear Numa who knew how to sacrifice his very soul, as a +sort of Iphigenia for the propitiation of the family gods--as in +Numa's day came the cession to Spain, so now fell this other +cession, like an unexpected tornado, threatening the wreck of her +children's slave-schooners and the prostration alike of their +slave-made crops and their Spanish liberties; and just in the +fateful moment where Numa would have stood by her, Honoré +had let go. Ah, it was bitter!</p> +<p>"See what foreign education does!" cried a Mandarin de +Grandissime of the Baton Rouge Coast. "I am sorry +now"--derisively--"that I never sent <i>my</i> boy to France, am I +not? No! No-o-o! I would rather my son should never know how to +read, than that he should come back from Paris repudiating the +sentiments and prejudices of his own father. Is education better +than family peace? Ah, bah! My son make friends with +Américains and tell me they--that call a negro +'monsieur'--are as good as his father? But that is what we get for +letting Honoré become a merchant. Ha! the degradation! +Shaking hands with men who do not believe in the slave trade! Shake +hands? Yes; associate--fraternize! with apothecaries and +negrophiles. And now we are invited to meet at the <i>fête de +grandpère</i>, in the house where he is really the +chief--the <i>caçique!</i>"</p> +<p>No! The family would not come together on the first appointment; +no, nor on the second; no, not if the grandpapa did express his +wish; no, nor on the third--nor on the fourth.</p> +<p>"<i>Non, Messieurs</i>!" cried both youth and reckless age; and, +sometimes, also, the stronger heads of the family, the men of +means, of force and of influence, urged on from behind by their +proud and beautiful wives and daughters.</p> +<p>Arms, generally, rather than heads, ruled there in those days. +Sentiments (which are the real laws) took shape in accordance with +the poetry, rather than the reason, of things, and the community +recognized the supreme domination of "the gentleman" in questions +of right and of "the ladies" in matters of sentiment. Under such +conditions strength establishes over weakness a showy protection +which is the subtlest of tyrannies, yet which, in the very moment +of extending its arm over woman, confers upon her a power which a +truer freedom would only diminish; constitutes her in a large +degree an autocrat of public sentiment and thus accepts her +narrowest prejudices and most belated errors as veriest need-be's +of social life.</p> +<p>The clans classified easily into three groups; there were those +who boiled, those who stewed, and those who merely steamed under a +close cover. The men in the first two groups were, for the most +part, those who were holding office under old Spanish commissions, +and were daily expecting themselves to be displaced and Louisiana +thereby ruined. The steaming ones were a goodly fraction of the +family--the timid, the apathetic, the "conservative." The +conservatives found ease better than exactitude, the trouble of +thinking great, the agony of deciding harrowing, and the +alternative of smiling cynically and being liberal so much +easier--and the warm weather coming on with a rapidity-wearying to +contemplate.</p> +<p>"The Yankee was an inferior animal."</p> +<p>"Certainly."</p> +<p>"But Honoré had a right to his convictions."</p> +<p>"Yes, that was so, too."</p> +<p>"It looked very traitorous, however."</p> +<p>"Yes, so it did."</p> +<p>"Nevertheless, it might turn out that Honoré was +advancing the true interests of his people."</p> +<p>"Very likely."</p> +<p>"It would not do to accept office under the Yankee +government."</p> +<p>"Of course not."</p> +<p>"Yet it would never do to let the Yankees get the offices, +either."</p> +<p>"That was true; nobody could deny that."</p> +<p>"If Spain or France got the country back, they would certainly +remember and reward those who had held out faithfully."</p> +<p>"Certainly! That was an old habit with France and Spain."</p> +<p>"But if they did not get the country back--"</p> +<p>"Yes, that is so; Honoré is a very good fellow, +and--"</p> +<p>And, one after another, under the mild coolness of +Honoré's amiable disregard, their indignation trickled back +from steam to water, and they went on drawing their stipends, some +in Honoré's counting-room, where they held positions, some +from the provisional government, which had as yet made but few +changes, and some, secretly, from the cunning Casa-Calvo; for, blow +the wind east or blow the wind west, the affinity of the average +Grandissime for a salary abideth forever.</p> +<p>Then, at the right moment, Honoré made a single happy +stroke, and even the hot Grandissimes, they of the interior +parishes and they of Agricola's squadron, slaked and crumbled when +he wrote each a letter saying that the governor was about to send +them appointments, and that it would be well, if they wished to +<i>evade</i> them, to write the governor at once, surrendering +their present commissions. Well! Evade? They would evade nothing! +Do you think they would so belittle themselves as to write to the +usurper? They would submit to keep the positions first.</p> +<p>But the next move was Honoré's making the whole town +aware of his apostasy. The great mansion, with the old +grandpère sitting out in front, shivered. As we have seen, +he had ridden through the Place d'Armes with the arch-usurper +himself. Yet, after all, a Grandissime would be a Grandissime +still; whatever he did he did openly. And wasn't that +glorious--never to be ashamed of anything, no matter how bad? It +was not everyone who could ride with the governor.</p> +<p>And blood was so much thicker than vinegar that the family, that +would not meet either in January or February, met in the first week +of March, every constituent one of them.</p> +<p>The feast has been eaten. The garden now is joyous with children +and the veranda resplendent with ladies. From among the latter the +eye quickly selects one. She is perceptibly taller than the others; +she sits in their midst near the great hall entrance; and as you +look at her there is no claim of ancestry the Grandissimes can make +which you would not allow. Her hair, once black, now lifted up into +a glistening snow-drift, augments the majesty of a still beautiful +face, while her full stature and stately bearing suggest the finer +parts of Agricola, her brother. It is Madame Grandissime, the +mother of Honoré.</p> +<p>One who sits at her left, and is very small, is a favorite +cousin. On her right is her daughter, the widowed señora of +José Martinez; she has wonderful black hair and a white brow +as wonderful. The commanding carriage of the mother is tempered in +her to a gentle dignity and calm, contrasting pointedly with the +animated manners of the courtly matrons among whom she sits, and +whose continuous conversation takes this direction or that, at the +pleasure of Madame Grandissime.</p> +<p>But if you can command your powers of attention, despite those +children who are shouting Creole French and sliding down the rails +of the front stair, turn the eye to the laughing squadron of +beautiful girls, which every few minutes, at an end of the veranda, +appears, wheels and disappears, and you note, as it were by +flashes, the characteristics of face and figure that mark the +Louisianaises in the perfection of the new-blown flower. You see +that blondes are not impossible; there, indeed, are two sisters who +might be undistinguishable twins but that one has blue eyes and +golden hair. You note the exquisite pencilling of their eyebrows, +here and there some heavier and more velvety, where a less +vivacious expression betrays a share of Spanish blood. As +Grandissimes, you mark their tendency to exceed the medium Creole +stature, an appearance heightened by the fashion of their robes. +There is scarcely a rose in all their cheeks, and a full +red-ripeness of the lips would hardly be in keeping; but there is +plenty of life in their eyes, which glance out between the curtains +of their long lashes with a merry dancing that keeps time to the +prattle of tongues. You are not able to get a straight look into +them, and if you could you would see only your own image cast back +in pitiful miniature; but you turn away and feel, as you fortify +yourself with an inward smile, that they know you, you man, through +and through, like a little song. And in turning, your sight is glad +to rest again on the face of Honoré's mother. You see, this +time, that she <i>is</i> his mother, by a charm you had overlooked, +a candid, serene and lovable smile. It is the wonder of those who +see that smile that she can ever be harsh.</p> +<p>The playful, mock-martial tread of the delicate Creole feet is +all at once swallowed up by the sound of many heavier steps in the +hall, and the fathers, grandfathers, sons, brothers, uncles and +nephews of the great family come out, not a man of them that +cannot, with a little care, keep on his feet. Their descendants of +the present day sip from shallower glasses and with less marked +results.</p> +<p>The matrons, rising, offer the chief seat to the first comer, +the great-grandsire--the oldest living Grandissime--Alcibiade, a +shaken but unfallen monument of early colonial days, a browned and +corrugated souvenir of De Vaudreuil's pomps, of O'Reilly's iron +rule, of Galvez' brilliant wars--a man who had seen Bienville and +Zephyr Grandissime. With what splendor of manner Madame Fusilier de +Grandissime offers, and he accepts, the place of honor! Before he +sits down he pauses a moment to hear out the companion on whose arm +he had been leaning. But Théophile, a dark, graceful youth +of eighteen, though he is recounting something with all the +oblivious ardor of his kind, becomes instantly silent, bows with +grave deference to the ladies, hands the aged forefather gracefully +to his seat, and turning, recommences the recital before one who +hears all with the same perfect courtesy--his beloved cousin +Honoré.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, the gentlemen throng out. Gallant crew! These are +they who have been pausing proudly week after week in an endeavor +(?) to understand the opaque motives of Numa's son.</p> +<p>In the middle of the veranda pauses a tall, muscular man of +fifty, with the usual smooth face and an iron-gray queue. That is +Colonel Agamemnon Brahmin de Grandissime, purveyor to the family's +military pride, conservator of its military glory, and, after +Honoré, the most admired of the name. Achille Grandissime, +he who took Agricola away from Frowenfeld's shop in the carriage, +essays to engage Agamemnon in conversation, and the colonel, with a +glance at his kinsman's nether limbs and another at his own, and +with that placid facility with which the graver sort of Creoles +take up the trivial topics of the lighter, grapples the subject of +boots. A tall, bronzed, slender young man, who prefixes to +Grandissime the maternal St. Blancard, asks where his wife is, is +answered from a distance, throws her a kiss and sits down on a +step, with Jean Baptiste de Grandissime, a piratical-looking +black-beard, above him, and Alphonse Mandarin, an olive-skinned +boy, below. Valentine Grandissime, of Tchoupitoulas, goes quite +down to the bottom of the steps and leans against the balustrade. +He is a large, broad-shouldered, well-built man, and, as he stands +smoking a cigar, with his black-stockinged legs crossed, he glances +at the sky with the eye of a hunter--or, it may be, of a +sailor.</p> +<p>"Valentine will not marry," says one of two ladies who lean over +the rail of the veranda above. "I wonder why."</p> +<p>The other fixes on her a meaning look, and she twitches her +shoulders and pouts, seeing she has asked a foolish question, the +answer to which would only put Valentine in a numerous class and do +him no credit.</p> +<p>Such were the choice spirits of the family. Agricola had +retired. Raoul was there; his pretty auburn head might have been +seen about half-way up the steps, close to one well sprinkled with +premature gray.</p> +<p>"No such thing!" exclaimed his companion.</p> +<p>(The conversation was entirely in Creole French.)</p> +<p>"I give you my sacred word of honor!" cried Raoul.</p> +<p>"That Honoré is having all his business carried on in +English?" asked the incredulous Sylvestre. (Such was his name.)</p> +<p>"I swear--" replied Raoul, resorting to his favorite pledge--"on +a stack of Bibles that high!"</p> +<p>"Ah-h-h-h, pf-f-f-f-f!"</p> +<p>This polite expression of unbelief was further emphasized by a +spasmodic flirt of one hand, with the thumb pointed outward.</p> +<p>"Ask him! ask him!" cried Raoul.</p> +<p>"Honoré!" called Sylvestre, rising up. Two or three +persons passed the call around the corner of the veranda.</p> +<p>Honoré came with a chain of six girls on either arm. By +the time he arrived, there was a Babel of discussion.</p> +<p>"Raoul says you have ordered all your books and accounts to be +written in English," said Sylvestre.</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"It is not true, is it?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>The entire veranda of ladies raised one long-drawn, deprecatory +"Ah!" except Honoré's mother. She turned upon him a look of +silent but intense and indignant disappointment.</p> +<p>"Honoré!" cried Sylvestre, desirous of repairing his +defeat, "Honoré!"</p> +<p>But Honoré was receiving the clamorous abuse of the two +half dozens of girls.</p> +<p>"Honoré!" cried Sylvestre again, holding up a torn scrap +of writing-paper which bore the marks of the counting-room floor +and of a boot-heel, "how do you spell 'la-dee?'"</p> +<p>There was a moment's hush to hear the answer.</p> +<p>"Ask Valentine," said Honoré.</p> +<p>Everybody laughed aloud. That taciturn man's only retort was to +survey the company above him with an unmoved countenance, and to +push the ashes slowly from his cigar with his little finger. M. +Valentine Grandissime, of Tchoupitoulas, could not read.</p> +<p>"Show it to Agricola," cried two or three, as that great man +came out upon the veranda, heavy-eyed, and with tumbled hair.</p> +<p>Sylvestre, spying Agricola's head beyond the ladies, put the +question.</p> +<p>"How is it spelled on that paper?" retorted the king of +beasts.</p> +<p>"L-a-y--"</p> +<p>"Ignoramus!" growled the old man.</p> +<p>"I did not spell it," cried Raoul, and attempted to seize the +paper. But Sylvestre throwing his hand behind him, a lady snatched +the paper, two or three cried "Give it to Agricola!" and a pretty +boy, whom the laughter and excitement had lured from the garden, +scampered up the steps and handed it to the old man.</p> +<p>"Honoré!" cried Raoul, "it must not be read. It is one of +your private matters."</p> +<p>But Raoul's insinuation that anybody would entrust him with a +private matter brought another laugh.</p> +<p>Honoré nodded to his uncle to read it out, and those who +could not understand English, as well as those who could, listened. +It was a paper Sylvestre had picked out of a waste-basket on the +day of Aurore's visit to the counting-room. Agricola read:</p> +<blockquote>"What is that layde want in thare with +Honoré?"<br> +"Honoré is goin giv her bac that proprety--that is<br> +Aurore De Grapion what Agricola kill the husband."</blockquote> +<p>That was the whole writing, but Agricola never finished. He was +reading aloud--"that is Aurore De Grap--"</p> +<p>At that moment he dropped the paper and blackened with wrath; a +sharp flash of astonishment ran through the company; an instant of +silence followed and Agricola's thundering voice rolled down upon +Sylvestre in a succession of terrible imprecations.</p> +<p>It was painful to see the young man's face as, speechless, he +received this abuse. He stood pale and frightened, with a smile +playing about his mouth, half of distress and half of defiance, +that said as plain as a smile could say, "Uncle Agricola, you will +have to pay for this mistake."</p> +<p>As the old man ceased, Sylvestre turned and cast a look downward +to Valentine Grandissime, then walked up the steps, and passing +with a courteous bow through the group that surrounded Agricola, +went into the house. Valentine looked at the zenith, then at his +shoe-buckles, tossed his cigar quietly into the grass and passed +around a corner of the house to meet Sylvestre in the rear.</p> +<p>Honoré had already nodded to his uncle to come aside with +him, and Agricola had done so. The rest of the company, save a few +male figures down in the garden, after some feeble efforts to keep +up their spirits on the veranda, remarked the growing coolness or +the waning daylight, and singly or in pairs withdrew. It was not +long before Raoul, who had come up upon the veranda, was left +alone. He seemed to wait for something, as, leaning over the rail +while the stars came out, he sang to himself, in a soft undertone, +a snatch of a Creole song:</p> +<blockquote>"La pluie--la pluie tombait,<br> +Crapaud criait,<br> +Moustique chantait--"</blockquote> +<p>The moon shone so brightly that the children in the garden did +not break off their hide-and-seek, and now and then Raoul suspended +the murmur of his song, absorbed in the fate of some little elf +gliding from one black shadow to crouch in another. He was himself +in the deep shade of a magnolia, over whose outer boughs the +moonlight was trickling, as if the whole tree had been dipped in +quicksilver.</p> +<p>In the broad walk running down to the garden gate some six or +seven dark forms sat in chairs, not too far away for the light of +their cigars to be occasionally seen and their voices to reach his +ear; but he did not listen. In a little while there came a light +footstep, and a soft, mock-startled "Who is that?" and one of that +same sparkling group of girls that had lately hung upon +Honoré came so close to Raoul, in her attempt to discern his +lineaments, that their lips accidentally met. They had but a moment +of hand-in-hand converse before they were hustled forth by a +feminine scouting party and thrust along into one of the great +rooms of the house, where the youth and beauty of the Grandissimes +were gathered in an expansive semicircle around a languishing fire, +waiting to hear a story, or a song, or both, or half a dozen of +each, from that master of narrative and melody, Raoul +Innerarity.</p> +<p>"But mark," they cried unitedly, "you have got to wind up with +the story of Bras-Coupé!"</p> +<p>"A song! A song!"</p> +<p>"<i>Une chanson Créole! Une chanson des +nègres!</i>"</p> +<p>"Sing 'yé tolé dancé la doung y doung +doung!'" cried a black-eyed girl.</p> +<p>Raoul explained that it had too many objectionable phrases.</p> +<p>"Oh, just hum the objectionable phrases and go right on."</p> +<p>But instead he sang them this:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>La prémier' fois mo té 'oir li,<br> +Li té posé au bord so lit;<br> +Mo di', Bouzon, bel n'amourèse!<br> +L'aut' fois li té si' so la saise<br> +Comme vié Madam dans so fauteil,<br> +Quand li vivé cóté soleil.<br> +<br> +So giés yé té plis noir passé la +nouitte,<br> +So dé la lev' plis doux passe la quitte!<br> +Tou' mo la vie, zamein mo oir<br> +Ein n' amourèse zoli comme ça!<br> + Mo' blié manzé--mo' +blié boir'--<br> + Mo' blié tout dipi ç' +temps-là--<br> + Mo' blié parlé--mo' +blié dormi,<br> + Quand mo pensé aprés +zami!</i>"</blockquote> +<p>"And you have heard Bras-Coupé sing that, yourself?"</p> +<p>"Once upon a time," said Raoul, warming with his subject, "we +were coming down from Pointe Macarty in three pirogues. We had been +three days fishing and hunting in Lake Salvador. Bras-Coupé +had one pirogue with six paddles--"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes!" cried a youth named Baltazar; "sing that, Raoul!"</p> +<p>And he sang that.</p> +<p>"But oh, Raoul, sing that song the negroes sing when they go out +in the bayous at night, stealing pigs and chickens!"</p> +<p>"That boat song, do you mean, which they sing as a signal to +those on shore?" He hummed.</p> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/250.png" width="100%" alt=""></p> +<blockquote>"Dé zabs, dé zabs, dé counou +ouaïe ouaïe,<br> +Dé zabs, dé zabs, dé counou ouaïe +ouaïe,<br> +Counou ouaïe ouaïe ouaïe ouaïe,<br> +Counou ouaïe ouaïe ouaïe ouaïe,<br> +Counou ouaïe ouaïe ouaïe, momza;<br> +Momza, momza, momza, momza,<br> +Roza, roza, roza-et--momza."</blockquote> +<p>This was followed by another and still another, until the hour +began to grow late. And then they gathered closer around him and +heard the promised story. At the same hour Honoré +Grandissime, wrapping himself in a greatcoat and giving himself up +to sad and somewhat bitter reflections, had wandered from the +paternal house, and by and by from the grounds, not knowing why or +whither, but after a time soliciting, at Frowenfeld's closing door, +the favor of his company. He had been feeling a kind of +suffocation. This it was that made him seek and prize the presence +and hand-grasp of the inexperienced apothecary. He led him out to +the edge of the river. Here they sat down, and with a laborious +attempt at a hard and jesting mood, Honoré told the same +dark story.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>THE STORY OF BRAS-COUPÉ</h3> +<br> +<p>"A very little more than eight years ago," began +Honoré--but not only Honoré, but Raoul also; and not +only they, but another, earlier on the same day,--Honoré, +the f.m.c. But we shall not exactly follow the words of any one of +these.</p> +<p>Bras-Coupé, they said, had been, in Africa and under +another name, a prince among his people. In a certain war of +conquest, to which he had been driven by <i>ennui</i>, he was +captured, stripped of his royalty, marched down upon the beach of +the Atlantic, and, attired as a true son of Adam, with two goodly +arms intact, became a commodity. Passing out of first hands in +barter for a looking-glass, he was shipped in good order and +condition on board the good schooner <i>Égalité</i>, +whereof Blank was master, to be delivered without delay at the port +of Nouvelle Orléans (the dangers of fire and navigation +excepted), unto Blank Blank. In witness whereof, He that made men's +skins of different colors, but all blood of one, hath entered the +same upon His book, and sealed it to the day of judgment.</p> +<p>Of the voyage little is recorded--here below; the less the +better. Part of the living merchandise failed to keep; the weather +was rough, the cargo large, the vessel small. However, the captain +discovered there was room over the side, and there--all flesh is +grass--from time to time during the voyage he jettisoned the +unmerchantable.</p> +<p>Yet, when the reopened hatches let in the sweet smell of the +land, Bras-Coupé had come to the upper--the favored--the +buttered side of the world; the anchor slid with a rumble of relief +down through the muddy fathoms of the Mississippi, and the prince +could hear through the schooner's side the savage current of the +river, leaping and licking about the bows, and whimpering low +welcomes home. A splendid picture to the eyes of the royal captive, +as his head came up out of the hatchway, was the little +Franco-Spanish-American city that lay on the low, brimming bank. +There were little forts that showed their whitewashed teeth; there +was a green parade-ground, and yellow barracks, and cabildo, and +hospital, and cavalry stables, and custom-house, and a most +inviting jail, convenient to the cathedral--all of dazzling white +and yellow, with a black stripe marking the track of the +conflagration of 1794, and here and there among the low roofs a +lofty one with round-topped dormer windows and a breezy belvidere +looking out upon the plantations of coffee and indigo beyond the +town.</p> +<p>When Bras-Coupé staggered ashore, he stood but a moment +among a drove of "likely boys," before Agricola Fusilier, managing +the business adventures of the Grandissime estate, as well as the +residents thereon, and struck with admiration for the physical +beauties of the chieftain (a man may even fancy a negro--as a +negro), bought the lot, and, both to resell him with the rest to +some unappreciative 'Cadian, induced Don José Martinez' +overseer to become his purchaser.</p> +<p>Down in the rich parish of St. Bernard (whose boundary line now +touches that of the distended city) lay the plantation, known +before Bras-Coupé passed away as La Renaissance. Here it was +that he entered at once upon a chapter of agreeable surprises. He +was humanely met, presented with a clean garment, lifted into a +cart drawn by oxen, taken to a whitewashed cabin of logs, finer +than his palace at home, and made to comprehend that it was a free +gift. He was also given some clean food, whereupon he fell sick. At +home it would have been the part of piety for the magnate next the +throne to launch him heavenward at once; but now, healing doses +were administered, and to his amazement he recovered. It reminded +him that he was no longer king.</p> +<p>His name, he replied to an inquiry touching that subject, +was--------, something in the Jaloff tongue, which he by and by +condescended to render into Congo: Mioko-Koanga; in French +Bras-Coupé; the Arm Cut Off. Truly it would have been easy +to admit, had this been his meaning, that his tribe, in losing him, +had lost its strong right arm close off at the shoulder; not so +easy for his high-paying purchaser to allow, if this other was his +intent: that the arm which might no longer shake the spear or swing +the wooden sword was no better than a useless stump never to be +lifted for aught else. But whether easy to allow or not, that was +his meaning. He made himself a type of all Slavery, turning into +flesh and blood the truth that all Slavery is maiming.</p> +<p>He beheld more luxury in a week than all his subjects had seen +in a century. Here Congo girls were dressed in cottons and flannels +worth, where he came from, an elephant's tusk apiece. Everybody +wore clothes--children and lads alone excepted. Not a lion had +invaded the settlement since his immigration. The serpents were as +nothing; an occasional one coming up through the floor--that was +all. True, there was more emaciation than unassisted conjecture +could explain--a profusion of enlarged joints and diminished +muscles, which, thank God, was even then confined to a narrow +section and disappeared with Spanish rule. He had no experimental +knowledge of it; nay, regular meals, on the contrary, gave him +anxious concern, yet had the effect--spite of his apprehension that +he was being fattened for a purpose--of restoring the herculean +puissance which formerly in Africa had made him the terror of the +battle.</p> +<p>When one day he had come to be quite himself, he was invited out +into the sunshine, and escorted by the driver (a sort of foreman to +the overseer), went forth dimly wondering. They reached a field +where some men and women were hoeing. He had seen men and +women--subjects of his--labor--a little--in Africa. The driver +handed him a hoe; he examined it with silent interest--until by +signs he was requested to join the pastime.</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>He spoke, not with his lips, but with the recoil of his splendid +frame and the ferocious expansion of his eyes. This invitation was +a cataract of lightning leaping down an ink-black sky. In one +instant of all-pervading clearness he read his sentence--WORK.</p> +<p>Bras-Coupé was six feet five. With a sweep as quick as +instinct the back of the hoe smote the driver full in the head. +Next, the prince lifted the nearest Congo crosswise, brought +thirty-two teeth together in his wildly kicking leg and cast him +away as a bad morsel; then, throwing another into the branches of a +willow, and a woman over his head into a draining-ditch, he made +one bound for freedom, and fell to his knees, rocking from side to +side under the effect of a pistol-ball from the overseer. It had +struck him in the forehead, and running around the skull in search +of a penetrable spot, tradition--which sometimes jests--says came +out despairingly, exactly where it had entered.</p> +<p>It so happened that, except the overseer, the whole company were +black. Why should the trivial scandal be blabbed? A plaster or two +made everything even in a short time, except in the driver's +case--for the driver died. The woman whom Bras-Coupé had +thrown over his head lived to sell <i>calas</i> to Joseph +Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>Don José, young and austere, knew nothing about +agriculture and cared as much about human nature. The overseer +often thought this, but never said it; he would not trust even +himself with the dangerous criticism. When he ventured to reveal +the foregoing incidents to the señor he laid all the blame +possible upon the man whom death had removed beyond the reach of +correction, and brought his account to a climax by hazarding the +asserting that Bras-Coupé was an animal that could not be +whipped.</p> +<p>"Caramba!" exclaimed the master, with gentle emphasis, "how +so?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps señor had better ride down to the quarters," +replied the overseer.</p> +<p>It was a great sacrifice of dignity, but the master made it.</p> +<p>"Bring him out."</p> +<p>They brought him out--chains on his feet, chains on his wrists, +an iron yoke on his neck. The Spanish Creole master had often seen +the bull, with his long, keen horns and blazing eye, standing in +the arena; but this was as though he had come face to face with a +rhinoceros.</p> +<p>"This man is not a Congo," he said.</p> +<p>"He is a Jaloff," replied the encouraged overseer. "See his +fine, straight nose; moreover, he is a <i>candio</i>--a prince. If +I whip him he will die."</p> +<p>The dauntless captive and fearless master stood looking into +each other's eyes until each recognized in the other his peer in +physical courage, and each was struck with an admiration for the +other which no after difference was sufficient entirely to destroy. +Had Bras-Coupé's eye quailed but once--just for one little +instant--he would have got the lash; but, as it was--</p> +<p>"Get an interpreter," said Don José; then, more +privately, "and come to an understanding. I shall require it of +you."</p> +<p>Where might one find an interpreter--one not merely able to +render a Jaloff's meaning into Creole French, or Spanish, but with +such a turn for diplomatic correspondence as would bring about an +"understanding" with this African buffalo? The overseer was left +standing and thinking, and Clemence, who had not forgotten who +threw her into the draining-ditch, cunningly passed by.</p> +<p>"Ah, Clemence--"</p> +<p>"<i>Mo pas capabe! Mo pas capabe!</i> (I cannot, I cannot!) +<i>Ya, ya, ya! 'oir Miché Agricol' Fusilier! ouala yune bon +monture, oui!</i>"--which was to signify that Agricola could +interpret the very Papa Lébat.</p> +<p>"Agricola Fusilier! The last man on earth to make peace."</p> +<p>But there seemed to be no choice, and to Agricola the overseer +went. It was but a little ride to the Grandissime place.</p> +<p>"I, Agricola Fusilier, stand as an interpreter to a negro? +H-sir!"</p> +<p>"But I thought you might know of some person," said the +weakening applicant, rubbing his ear with his hand.</p> +<p>"Ah!" replied Agricola, addressing the surrounding scenery, "if +I did not--who would? You may take Palmyre."</p> +<p>The overseer softly smote his hands together at the happy +thought.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Agricola, "take Palmyre; she has picked up as many +negro dialects as I know European languages."</p> +<p>And she went to the don's plantation as interpreter, followed by +Agricola's prayer to Fate that she might in some way be overtaken +by disaster. The two hated each other with all the strength they +had. He knew not only her pride, but her passion for the absent +Honoré. He hated her, also, for her intelligence, for the +high favor in which she stood with her mistress, and for her +invincible spirit, which was more offensively patent to him than to +others, since he was himself the chief object of her silent +detestation.</p> +<p>It was Palmyre's habit to do nothing without painstaking. "When +Mademoiselle comes to be Señora," thought she--she knew that +her mistress and the don were affianced--"it will be well to have a +Señor's esteem. I shall endeavor to succeed." It was from +this motive, then, that with the aid of her mistress she attired +herself in a resplendence of scarlet and beads and feathers that +could not fail the double purpose of connecting her with the +children of Ethiopia and commanding the captive's instant +admiration.</p> +<p>Alas for those who succeed too well! No sooner did the African +turn his tiger glance upon her than the fire of his eyes died out; +and when she spoke to him in the dear accents of his native tongue, +the matter of strife vanished from his mind. He loved.</p> +<p>He sat down tamely in his irons and listened to Palmyre's +argument as a wrecked mariner would listen to ghostly church-bells. +He would give a short assent, feast his eyes, again assent, and +feast his ears; but when at length she made bold to approach the +actual issue, and finally uttered the loathed word, <i>Work</i>, he +rose up, six feet five, a statue of indignation in black +marble.</p> +<p>And then Palmyre, too, rose up, glorying in him, and went to +explain to master and overseer. Bras-Coupé understood, she +said, that he was a slave--it was the fortune of war, and he was a +warrior; but, according to a generally recognized principle in +African international law, he could not reasonably be expected to +work.</p> +<p>"As Señor will remember I told him," remarked the +overseer; "how can a man expect to plow with a zebra?"</p> +<p>Here he recalled a fact in his earlier experience. An African of +this stripe had been found to answer admirably as a "driver" to +make others work. A second and third parley, extending through two +or three days, were held with the prince, looking to his +appointment to the vacant office of driver; yet what was the +master's amazement to learn at length that his Highness declined +the proffered honor.</p> +<p>"Stop!" spoke the overseer again, detecting a look of alarm in +Palmyre's face as she turned away, "he doesn't do any such thing. +If Señor will let me take the man to Agricola--"</p> +<p>"No!" cried Palmyre, with an agonized look, "I will tell. He +will take the place and fill it if you will give me to him for his +own--but oh, messieurs, for the love of God--I do not want to be +his wife!"</p> +<p>The overseer looked at the Señor, ready to approve +whatever he should decide. Bras-Coupé's intrepid audacity +took the Spaniard's heart by irresistible assault.</p> +<p>"I leave it entirely with Señor Fusilier," he said.</p> +<p>"But he is not my master; he has no right--"</p> +<p>"Silence!"</p> +<p>And she was silent; and so, sometimes, is fire in the wall.</p> +<p>Agricola's consent was given with malicious promptness, and as +Bras-Coupé's fetters fell off it was decreed that, should he +fill his office efficiently, there should be a wedding on the rear +veranda of the Grandissime mansion simultaneously with the one +already appointed to take place in the grand hall of the same house +six months from that present day. In the meanwhile Palmyre should +remain with Mademoiselle, who had promptly but quietly made up her +mind that Palmyre should not be wed unless she wished to be. +Bras-Coupé made no objection, was royally worthless for a +time, but learned fast, mastered the "gumbo" dialect in a few +weeks, and in six months was the most valuable man ever bought for +gourde dollars. Nevertheless, there were but three persons within +as many square miles who were not most vividly afraid of him.</p> +<p>The first was Palmyre. His bearing in her presence was ever one +of solemn, exalted respect, which, whether from pure magnanimity in +himself, or by reason of her magnetic eye, was something worth +being there to see. "It was royal!" said the overseer.</p> +<p>The second was not that official. When Bras-Coupé +said--as, at stated intervals, he did say--"<i>Mo courri c'ez +Agricole Fusilier pou' 'oir 'namourouse</i> (I go to Agricola +Fusilier to see my betrothed,)" the overseer would sooner have +intercepted a score of painted Chickasaws than that one lover. He +would look after him and shake a prophetic head. "Trouble coming; +better not deceive that fellow;" yet that was the very thing +Palmyre dared do. Her admiration for Bras-Coupé was almost +boundless. She rejoiced in his stature; she revelled in the +contemplation of his untamable spirit; he seemed to her the +gigantic embodiment of her own dark, fierce will, the expanded +realization of her lifetime longing for terrible strength. But the +single deficiency in all this impassioned regard was--what so many +fairer loves have found impossible to explain to so many gentler +lovers--an entire absence of preference; her heart she could not +give him--she did not have it. Yet after her first prayer to the +Spaniard and his overseer for deliverance, to the secret surprise +and chagrin of her young mistress, she simulated content. It was +artifice; she knew Agricola's power, and to seem to consent was her +one chance with him. He might thus be beguiled into withdrawing his +own consent. That failing, she had Mademoiselle's promise to come +to the rescue, which she could use at the last moment; and that +failing, there was a dirk in her bosom, for which a certain hard +breast was not too hard. Another element of safety, of which she +knew nothing, was a letter from the Cannes Brulée. The word +had reached there that love had conquered--that, despite all hard +words, and rancor, and positive injury, the Grandissime hand--the +fairest of Grandissime hands--was about to be laid into that of one +who without much stretch might be called a De Grapion; that there +was, moreover, positive effort being made to induce a restitution +of old gaming-table spoils. Honoré and Mademoiselle, his +sister, one on each side of the Atlantic, were striving for this +end. Don José sent this intelligence to his kinsman as glad +tidings (a lover never imagines there are two sides to that which +makes him happy), and, to add a touch of humor, told how Palmyre, +also, was given to the chieftain. The letter that came back to the +young Spaniard did not blame him so much: <i>he</i> was ignorant of +all the facts; but a very formal one to Agricola begged to notify +him that if Palmyre's union with Bras-Coupé should be +completed, as sure as there was a God in heaven, the writer would +have the life of the man who knowingly had thus endeavored to +dishonor one who <i>shared the blood of the De Grapions</i>. +Thereupon Agricola, contrary to his general character, began to +drop hints to Don José that the engagement of +Bras-Coupé and Palmyre need not be considered irreversible; +but the don was not desirous of disappointing his terrible pet. +Palmyre, unluckily, played her game a little too deeply. She +thought the moment had come for herself to insist on the match, and +thus provoke Agricola to forbid it. To her incalculable dismay she +saw him a second time reconsider and become silent.</p> +<p>The second person who did not fear Bras-Coupé was +Mademoiselle. On one of the giant's earliest visits to see Palmyre +he obeyed the summons which she brought him, to appear before the +lady. A more artificial man might have objected on the score of +dress, his attire being a single gaudy garment tightly enveloping +the waist and thighs. As his eyes fell upon the beautiful white +lady he prostrated himself upon the ground, his arms outstretched +before him. He would not move till she was gone. Then he arose like +a hermit who has seen a vision. "<i>Bras-Coupé n' pas +oulé oir zombis</i> (Bras-Coupé dares not look upon a +spirit)." From that hour he worshipped. He saw her often; every +time, after one glance at her countenance, he would prostrate his +gigantic length with his face in the dust.</p> +<p>The third person who did not fear him was--Agricola? Nay, it was +the Spaniard--a man whose capability to fear anything in nature or +beyond had never been discovered.</p> +<p>Long before the end of his probation Bras-Coupé would +have slipped the entanglements of bondage, though as yet he felt +them only as one feels a spider's web across the face, had not the +master, according to a little affectation of the times, promoted +him to be his game-keeper. Many a day did these two living +magazines of wrath spend together in the dismal swamps and on the +meagre intersecting ridges, making war upon deer and bear and +wildcat; or on the Mississippi after wild goose and pelican; when +even a word misplaced would have made either the slayer of the +other. Yet the months ran smoothly round and the wedding night drew +nigh<a name="FNanchor3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3">[3]</a>. A goodly +company had assembled. All things were ready. The bride was +dressed, the bridegroom had come. On the great back piazza, which +had been inclosed with sail-cloth and lighted with lanterns, was +Palmyre, full of a new and deep design and playing her deceit to +the last, robed in costly garments to whose beauty was added the +charm of their having been worn once, and once only, by her beloved +Mademoiselle.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor3">[3]</a> +An over-zealous Franciscan once complained bitterly to the bishop +of Havana, that people were being married in Louisiana in their own +houses after dark and thinking nothing of it. It is not certain +that he had reference to the Grandissime mansion; at any rate he +was tittered down by the whole community.</blockquote> +<p>But where was Bras-Coupé?</p> +<p>The question was asked of Palmyre by Agricola with a gaze that +meant in English, "No tricks, girl!"</p> +<p>Among the servants who huddled at the windows and door to see +the inner magnificence a frightened whisper was already going +round.</p> +<p>"We have made a sad discovery, Miché Fusilier," said the +overseer. "Bras-Coupé is here; we have him in a room just +yonder. But--the truth is, sir, Bras-Coupé is a voudou."</p> +<p>"Well, and suppose he is; what of it? Only hush; do not let his +master know it. It is nothing; all the blacks are voudous, more or +less."</p> +<p>"But he declines to dress himself--has painted himself all rings +and stripes, antelope fashion."</p> +<p>"Tell him Agricola Fusilier says, 'dress immediately!'"</p> +<p>"Oh, Miché, we have said that five times already, and his +answer--you will pardon me--his answer is--spitting on the +ground--that you are a contemptible <i>dotchian</i> (white +trash)."</p> +<p>There is nothing to do but privily to call the very bride--the +lady herself. She comes forth in all her glory, small, but oh, so +beautiful! Slam! Bras-Coupé is upon his face, his +finger-tips touching the tips of her snowy slippers. She gently +bids him go and dress, and at once he goes.</p> +<p>Ah! now the question may be answered without whispering. There +is Bras-Coupé, towering above all heads, in ridiculous red +and blue regimentals, but with a look of savage dignity upon him +that keeps every one from laughing. The murmur of admiration that +passed along the thronged gallery leaped up into a shout in the +bosom of Palmyre. Oh, Bras-Coupé--heroic soul! She would not +falter. She would let the silly priest say his say--then her +cunning should help her <i>not to be</i> his wife, yet to show his +mighty arm how and when to strike.</p> +<p>"He is looking for Palmyre," said some, and at that moment he +saw her.</p> +<p>"Ho-o-o-o-o!"</p> +<p>Agricola's best roar was a penny trumpet to Bras-Coupé's +note of joy. The whole masculine half of the indoor company flocked +out to see what the matter was. Bras-Coupé was taking her +hand in one of his and laying his other upon her head; and as some +one made an unnecessary gesture for silence, he sang, beating slow +and solemn time with his naked foot and with the hand that dropped +hers to smite his breast:</p> +<blockquote>"'<i>En haut la montagne, zami,<br> +Mo pé coupé canne, zami,<br> +Pou' fé l'a'zen' zami,<br> +Pou' mo baille Palmyre.<br> +Ah! Palmyre, Palmyre mo c'ere,<br> +Mo l'aimé 'ou'--mo l'aimé 'ou'</i>.'"</blockquote> +<p>"<i>Montagne?</i>" asked one slave of another, "<i>qui est +çà, montagne? gnia pas quiç 'ose comme +çà dans la Louisiana?</i> (What's a mountain?" We +haven't such things in Louisiana.)"</p> +<p>"<i>Mein ye gagnein plein montagnes dans l'Afrique</i>, +listen!"</p> +<blockquote>"'<i>Ah! Palmyre, Palmyre, mo' piti zozo,'<br> +Mo l'aimé 'ou'--mo l'aimé, l'aimé +'ou'</i>.'"</blockquote> +<p>"Bravissimo!--" but just then a counter-attraction drew the +white company back into the house. An old French priest with +sandalled feet and a dirty face had arrived. There was a moment of +handshaking with the good father, then a moment of palpitation and +holding of the breath, and then--you would have known it by the +turning away of two or three feminine heads in tears--the lily hand +became the don's, to have and to hold, by authority of the Church +and the Spanish king. And all was merry, save that outside there +was coming up as villanous a night as ever cast black looks in +through snug windows.</p> +<p>It was just as the newly-wed Spaniard, with Agricola and all the +guests, were concluding the byplay of marrying the darker couple, +that the hurricane struck the dwelling. The holy and jovial father +had made faint pretence of kissing this second bride; the ladies, +colonels, dons, etc.,--though the joke struck them as a trifle +coarse--were beginning to laugh and clap hands again and the gowned +jester to bow to right and left, when Bras-Coupé, tardily +realizing the consummation of his hopes, stepped forward to embrace +his wife.</p> +<p>"Bras-Coupé!"</p> +<p>The voice was that of Palmyre's mistress. She had not been able +to comprehend her maid's behavior, but now Palmyre had darted upon +her an appealing look.</p> +<p>The warrior stopped as if a javelin had flashed over his head +and stuck in the wall.</p> +<p>"Bras-Coupé must wait till I give him his wife."</p> +<p>He sank, with hidden face, slowly to the floor.</p> +<p>"Bras-Coupé hears the voice of zombis; the voice is +sweet, but the words are very strong; from the same sugar-cane +comes <i>sirop</i> and <i>tafia</i>; Bras-Coupé says to +zombis, 'Bras-Coupé will wait; but if the <i>dotchians</i> +deceive Bras-Coupé--" he rose to his feet with his eyes +closed and his great black fist lifted over his +head--"Bras-Coupé will call Voudou-Magnan!"</p> +<p>The crowd retreated and the storm fell like a burst of infernal +applause. A whiff like fifty witches flouted up the canvas curtain +of the gallery and a fierce black cloud, drawing the moon under its +cloak, belched forth a stream of fire that seemed to flood the +ground; a peal of thunder followed as if the sky had fallen in, the +house quivered, the great oaks groaned, and every lesser thing +bowed down before the awful blast. Every lip held its breath for a +minute--or an hour, no one knew--there was a sudden lull of the +wind, and the floods came down. Have you heard it thunder and rain +in those Louisiana lowlands? Every clap seems to crack the world. +It has rained a moment; you peer through the black pane--your house +is an island, all the land is sea.</p> +<p>However, the supper was spread in the hall and in due time the +guests were filled. Then a supper was spread in the big hall in the +basement, below stairs, the sons and daughters of Ham came down +like the fowls of the air upon a rice-field, and Bras-Coupé, +throwing his heels about with the joyous carelessness of a smutted +Mercury, for the first time in his life tasted the blood of the +grape. A second, a fifth, a tenth time he tasted it, drinking more +deeply each time, and would have taken it ten times more had not +his bride cunningly concealed it. It was like stealing a tiger's +kittens.</p> +<p>The moment quickly came when he wanted his eleventh bumper. As +he presented his request a silent shiver of consternation ran +through the dark company; and when, in what the prince meant as a +remonstrative tone, he repeated the petition--splitting the table +with his fist by way of punctuation--there ensued a hustling up +staircases and a cramming into dim corners that left him alone at +the banquet.</p> +<p>Leaving the table, he strode upstairs and into the chirruping +and dancing of the grand salon. There was a halt in the cotillion +and a hush of amazement like the shutting off of steam. +Bras-Coupé strode straight to his master, laid his paw upon +his fellow-bridegroom's shoulder and in a thunder-tone +demanded:</p> +<p>"More!"</p> +<p>The master swore a Spanish oath, lifted his hand and--fell, +beneath the terrific fist of his slave, with a bang that jingled +the candelabra. Dolorous stroke!--for the dealer of it. Given, +apparently to him--poor, tipsy savage--in self-defence, punishable, +in a white offender, by a small fine or a few days' imprisonment, +it assured Bras-Coupé the death of a felon; such was the old +<i>Code Noir</i>. (We have a <i>Code Noir</i> now, but the new one +is a mental reservation, not an enactment.)</p> +<p>The guests stood for an instant as if frozen, smitten stiff with +the instant expectation of insurrection, conflagration and rapine +(just as we do to-day whenever some poor swaggering Pompey rolls up +his fist and gets a ball through his body), while, single-handed +and naked-fisted in a room full of swords, the giant stood over his +master, making strange signs and passes and rolling out in wrathful +words of his mother tongue what it needed no interpreter to tell +his swarming enemies was a voudou malediction.</p> +<p>"<i>Nous sommes grigis!</i>" screamed two or three ladies, "we +are bewitched!"</p> +<p>"Look to your wives and daughters!" shouted a +Brahmin-Mandarin.</p> +<p>"Shoot the black devils without mercy!" cried a +Mandarin-Fusilier, unconsciously putting into a single outflash of +words the whole Creole treatment of race troubles.</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2260.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2260.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2260.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Bras-Coupé was practically declaring his independence on +a slight rise of ground hardly sixty feet in circumference and +lifted scarce above the water in the inmost depths of the +swamp".</b></p> +<br> +<p>With a single bound Bras-Coupé reached the drawing-room +door; his gaudy regimentals made a red and blue streak down the +hall; there was a rush of frilled and powdered gentlemen to the +rear veranda, an avalanche of lightning with Bras-Coupé in +the midst making for the swamp, and then all without was blackness +of darkness and all within was a wild commingled chatter of Creole, +French, and Spanish tongues,--in the midst of which the reluctant +Agricola returned his dresssword to its scabbard.</p> +<p>While the wet lanterns swung on crazily in the trees along the +way by which the bridegroom was to have borne his bride; while +Madame Grandissime prepared an impromptu bridalchamber; while the +Spaniard bathed his eye and the blue gash on his cheek-bone; while +Palmyre paced her room in a fever and wild tremor of conflicting +emotions throughout the night, and the guests splashed home after +the storm as best they could, Bras-Coupé was practically +declaring his independence on a slight rise of ground hardly sixty +feet in circumference and lifted scarce above the water in the +inmost depths of the swamp.</p> +<p>And amid what surroundings! Endless colonnades of cypresses; +long, motionless drapings of gray moss; broad sheets of noisome +waters, pitchy black, resting on bottomless ooze; cypress knees +studding the surface; patches of floating green, gleaming +brilliantly here and there; yonder where the sunbeams wedge +themselves in, constellations of water-lilies, the many-hued iris, +and a multitude of flowers that no man had named; here, too, +serpents great and small, of wonderful colorings, and the dull and +loathsome moccasin sliding warily off the dead tree; in dimmer +recesses the cow alligator, with her nest hard by; turtles a +century old; owls and bats, raccoons, opossums, rats, centipedes +and creatures of like vileness; great vines of beautiful leaf and +scarlet fruit in deadly clusters; maddening mosquitoes, parasitic +insects, gorgeous dragon-flies and pretty water-lizards: the blue +heron, the snowy crane, the red-bird, the moss-bird, the night-hawk +and the chuckwill's-widow; a solemn stillness and stifled air only +now and then disturbed by the call or whir of the summer duck, the +dismal ventriloquous note of the rain-crow, or the splash of a dead +branch falling into the clear but lifeless bayou.</p> +<p>The pack of Cuban hounds that howl from Don José's +kennels cannot snuff the trail of the stolen canoe that glides +through the sombre blue vapors of the African's fastnesses. His +arrows send no telltale reverberations to the distant clearing. +Many a wretch in his native wilderness has Bras-Coupé +himself, in palmier days, driven to just such an existence, to +escape the chains and horrors of the barracoons; therefore not a +whit broods he over man's inhumanity, but, taking the affair as a +matter of course, casts about him for a future.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>THE STORY OF BRAS-COUPÉ, CONTINUED</h3> +<br> +<p>Bras-Coupé let the autumn pass, and wintered in his +den.</p> +<p>Don José, in a majestic way, endeavored to be happy. He +took his señora to his hall, and under her rule it took on +for a while a look and feeling which turned it from a hunting-lodge +into a home. Wherever the lady's steps turned--or it is as correct +to say wherever the proud tread of Palmyre turned--the features of +bachelor's-hall disappeared; guns, dogs, oars, saddles, nets, went +their way into proper banishment, and the broad halls and lofty +chambers--the floors now muffled with mats of palmetto-leaf--no +longer re-echoed the tread of a lonely master, but breathed a +redolence of flowers and a rippling murmur of well-contented +song.</p> +<p>But the song was not from the throat of Bras-Coupé's +"<i>piti zozo</i>." Silent and severe by day, she moaned away whole +nights heaping reproaches upon herself for the impulse--now to her, +because it had failed, inexplicable in its folly--which had +permitted her hand to lie in Bras-Coupé's and the priest to +bind them together.</p> +<p>For in the audacity of her pride, or, as Agricola would have +said, in the immensity of her impudence, she had held herself +consecrate to a hopeless love. But now she was a black man's wife! +and even he unable to sit at her feet and learn the lesson she had +hoped to teach him. She had heard of San Domingo; for months the +fierce heart within her silent bosom had been leaping and shouting +and seeing visions of fire and blood, and when she brooded over the +nearness of Agricola and the remoteness of Honoré these +visions got from her a sort of mad consent. The lesson she would +have taught the giant was Insurrection. But it was too late. +Letting her dagger sleep in her bosom, and with an undefined belief +in imaginary resources, she had consented to join hands with her +giant hero before the priest; and when the wedding had come and +gone like a white sail, she was seized with a lasting, fierce +despair. A wild aggressiveness that had formerly characterized her +glance in moments of anger--moments which had grown more and more +infrequent under the softening influence of her Mademoiselle's +nature--now came back intensified, and blazed in her eye +perpetually. Whatever her secret love may have been in kind, its +sinking beyond hope below the horizon had left her fifty times the +mutineer she had been before--the mutineer who has nothing to +lose.</p> +<p>"She loves her <i>candio</i>" said the negroes.</p> +<p>"Simple creatures!" said the overseer, who prided himself on his +discernment, "she loves nothing; she hates Agricola; it's a case of +hate at first sight--the strongest kind."</p> +<p>Both were partly right; her feelings were wonderfully knit to +the African; and she now dedicated herself to Agricola's ruin.</p> +<p>The señor, it has been said, endeavored to be happy; but +now his heart conceived and brought forth its first-born fear, +sired by superstition--the fear that he was bewitched. The negroes +said that Bras-Coupé had cursed the land. Morning after +morning the master looked out with apprehension toward the fields, +until one night the worm came upon the indigo, and between sunset +and sunrise every green leaf had been eaten up and there was +nothing left for either insect or apprehension to feed upon.</p> +<p>And then he said--and the echo came back from the Cannes +Brulées--that the very bottom culpability of this thing +rested on the Grandissimes, and specifically on their fugleman +Agricola, through his putting the hellish African upon him. +Moreover, fever and death, to a degree unknown before, fell upon +his slaves. Those to whom life was spared--but to whom strength did +not return--wandered about the place like scarecrows, looking for +shelter, and made the very air dismal with the reiteration, "<i>No' +ouanga</i> (we are bewitched), <i>Bras-Coupé fé moi +des grigis</i> (the voudou's spells are on me)." The ripple of song +was hushed and the flowers fell upon the floor.</p> +<p>"I have heard an English maxim," wrote Colonel De Grapion to his +kinsman, "which I would recommend you to put into practice--'Fight +the devil with fire.'"</p> +<p>No, he would not recognize devils as belligerents.</p> +<p>But if Rome commissioned exorcists, could not he employ one?</p> +<p>No, he would not! If his hounds could not catch +Bras-Coupé, why, let him go. The overseer tried the hounds +once more and came home with the best one across his saddle-bow, an +arrow run half through its side.</p> +<p>Once the blacks attempted by certain familiar rum-pourings and +nocturnal charm-singing to lift the curse; but the moment the +master heard the wild monotone of their infernal worship, he +stopped it with a word.</p> +<p>Early in February came the spring, and with it some resurrection +of hope and courage. It may have been--it certainly was, in +part--because young Honoré Grandissime had returned. He was +like the sun's warmth wherever he went; and the other Honoré +was like his shadow. The fairer one quickly saw the meaning of +these things, hastened to cheer the young don with hopes of a +better future, and to effect, if he could, the restoration of +Bras-Coupé to his master's favor. But this latter effort was +an idle one. He had long sittings with his uncle Agricola to the +same end, but they always ended fruitless and often angrily.</p> +<p>His dark half-brother had seen Palmyre and loved her. +Honoré would gladly have solved one or two riddles by +effecting their honorable union in marriage. The previous ceremony +on the Grandissime back piazza need be no impediment; all +slave-owners understood those things. Following Honoré's +advice, the f.m.c., who had come into possession of his paternal +portion, sent to Cannes Brulées a written offer, to buy +Palmyre at any price that her master might name, stating his +intention to free her and make her his wife. Colonel De Grapion +could hardly hope to settle Palmyre's fate more satisfactorily, yet +he could not forego an opportunity to indulge his pride by +following up the threat he had hung over Agricola to kill whosoever +should give Palmyre to a black man. He referred the subject and the +would-be purchaser to him. It would open up to the old braggart a +line of retreat, thought the planter of the Cannes +Brulées.</p> +<p>But the idea of retreat had left Citizen Fusilier.</p> +<p>"She is already married," said he to M. Honoré +Grandissime, f.m.c. "She is the lawful wife of Bras-Coupé; +and what God has joined together let no man put asunder. You know +it, sirrah. You did this for impudence, to make a show of your +wealth. You intended it as an insinuation of equality. I overlook +the impertinence for the sake of the man whose white blood you +carry; but h-mark you, if ever you bring your Parisian airs and +self-sufficient face on a level with mine again, h-I will slap +it."</p> +<p>The quadroon, three nights after, was so indiscreet as to give +him the opportunity, and he did it--at that quadroon ball to which +Dr. Keene alluded in talking to Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>But Don José, we say, plucked up new spirit..</p> +<p>"Last year's disasters were but fortune's freaks," he said. +"See, others' crops have failed all about us."</p> +<p>The overseer shook his head.</p> +<p>"<i>C'est ce maudit cocodri' là bas</i> (It is that +accursed alligator, Bras-Coupé, down yonder in the +swamp)."</p> +<p>And by and by the master was again smitten with the same belief. +He and his neighbors put in their crops afresh. The spring waned, +summer passed, the fevers returned, the year wore round, but no +harvest smiled. "Alas!" cried the planters, "we are all poor men!" +The worst among the worst were the fields of Bras-Coupé's +master--parched and shrivelled. "He does not understand planting," +said his neighbors; "neither does his overseer. Maybe, too, it is +true as he says, that he is voudoued."</p> +<p>One day at high noon the master was taken sick with fever.</p> +<p>The third noon after--the sad wife sitting by the +bedside--suddenly, right in the centre of the room, with the door +open behind him, stood the magnificent, half-nude form of +Bras-Coupé. He did not fall down as the mistress's eyes met +his, though all his flesh quivered. The master was lying with his +eyes closed. The fever had done a fearful three days' work.</p> +<p>"<i>Mioko-Koanga oulé so' femme</i> (Bras-Coupé +wants his wife)."</p> +<p>The master started wildly and stared upon his slave.</p> +<p>"<i>Bras-Coupé oulé so' femme</i>!" repeated the +black.</p> +<p>"Seize him!" cried the sick man, trying to rise.</p> +<p>But, though several servants had ventured in with frightened +faces, none dared molest the giant. The master turned his +entreating eyes upon his wife, but she seemed stunned, and only +covered her face with her hands and sat as if paralyzed by a +foreknowledge of what was coming.</p> +<p>Bras-Coupé lifted his great black palm and commenced:</p> +<p>"<i>Mo cé voudrai que la maison ci là, et tout +ça qui pas femme' ici, s'raient encore maudits</i>! (May +this house, and all in it who are not women, be accursed)."</p> +<p>The master fell back upon his pillow with a groan of helpless +wrath.</p> +<p>The African pointed his finger through the open window.</p> +<p>"May its fields not know the plough nor nourish the herds that +overrun it."</p> +<p>The domestics, who had thus far stood their ground, suddenly +rushed from the room like stampeded cattle, and at that moment +appeared Palmyre.</p> +<p>"Speak to him," faintly cried the panting invalid.</p> +<p>She went firmly up to her husband and lifted her hand. With an +easy motion, but quick as lightning, as a lion sets foot on a dog, +he caught her by the arm.</p> +<p>"<i>Bras-Coupé oulé so' femme</i>," he said, and +just then Palmyre would have gone with him to the equator.</p> +<p>"You shall not have her!" gasped the master.</p> +<p>The African seemed to rise in height, and still holding his wife +at arm's length, resumed his malediction:</p> +<p>"May weeds cover the ground until the air is full of their odor +and the wild beasts of the forest come and lie down under their +cover."</p> +<p>With a frantic effort the master lifted himself upon his elbow +and extended his clenched fist in speechless defiance; but his +brain reeled, his sight went out, and when again he saw, Palmyre +and her mistress were bending over him, the overseer stood +awkwardly by, and Bras-Coupé was gone.</p> +<p>The plantation became an invalid camp. The words of the voudou +found fulfilment on every side. The plough went not out; the herds +wandered through broken hedges from field to field and came up with +staring bones and shrunken sides; a frenzied mob of weeds and +thorns wrestled and throttled each other in a struggle for +standing-room--rag-weed, smart-weed, sneeze-weed, bindweed, +iron-weed--until the burning skies of midsummer checked their +growth and crowned their unshorn tops with rank and dingy +flowers.</p> +<p>"Why in the name of--St. Francis," asked the priest of the +overseer, "didn't the señora use her power over the black +scoundrel when he stood and cursed, that day?"</p> +<p>"Why, to tell you the truth, father," said the overseer, in a +discreet whisper, "I can only suppose she thought Bras-Coupé +had half a right to do it."</p> +<p>"Ah, ah, I see; like her brother Honoré--looks at both +sides of a question--a miserable practice; but why couldn't Palmyre +use <i>her</i> eyes? They would have stopped him."</p> +<p>"Palmyre? Why Palmyre has become the best <i>monture</i> +(Plutonian medium) in the parish. Agricola Fusilier himself is +afraid of her. Sir, I think sometimes Bras-Coupé is dead and +his spirit has gone into Palmyre. She would rather add to his curse +than take from it."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said the jovial divine, with a fat smile, "castigation +would help her case; the whip is a great sanctifier. I fancy it +would even make a Christian of the inexpugnable +Bras-Coupé."</p> +<p>But Bras-Coupé kept beyond the reach alike of the lash +and of the Latin Bible.</p> +<p>By and by came a man with a rumor, whom the overseer brought to +the master's sick-room, to tell that an enterprising Frenchman was +attempting to produce a new staple in Louisiana, one that worms +would not annihilate. It was that year of history when the +despairing planters saw ruin hovering so close over them that they +cried to heaven for succor. Providence raised up Étienne de +Boré. "And if Étienne is successful," cried the +news-bearer, "and gets the juice of the sugar-cane to crystallize, +so shall all of us, after him, and shall yet save our lands and +homes. Oh, Señor, it will make you strong again to see these +fields all cane and the long rows of negroes and negresses cutting +it, while they sing their song of those droll African numerals, +counting the canes they cut," and the bearer of good tidings sang +them for very joy:</p> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/282.png" width="100%" alt=""></p> +<br> +<br> +<p>"And Honoré Grandissime is going to introduce it on his +lands," said Don José.</p> +<p>"That is true," said Agricola Fusilier, coming in. +Honoré, the indefatigable peacemaker, had brought his uncle +and his brother-in-law for the moment not only to speaking, but to +friendly, terms.</p> +<p>The señor smiled.</p> +<p>"I have some good tidings, too," he said; "my beloved lady has +borne me a son."</p> +<p>"Another scion of the house of Grand--I mean Martinez!" +exclaimed Agricola. "And now, Don José, let me say that +<i>I</i> have an item of rare intelligence!"</p> +<p>The don lifted his feeble head and opened his inquiring eyes +with a sudden, savage light in them.</p> +<p>"No," said Agricola, "he is not exactly taken yet, but they are +on his track."</p> +<p>"Who?"</p> +<p>"The police. We may say he is virtually in our grasp."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>It was on a Sabbath afternoon that a band of Choctaws having +just played a game of racquette behind the city and a similar game +being about to end between the white champions of two rival +faubourgs, the beating of tom-toms, rattling of mules' jawbones and +sounding of wooden horns drew the populace across the fields to a +spot whose present name of Congo Square still preserves a reminder +of its old barbaric pastimes. On a grassy plain under the ramparts, +the performers of these hideous discords sat upon the ground facing +each other, and in their midst the dancers danced. They gyrated in +couples, a few at a time, throwing their bodies into the most +startling attitudes and the wildest contortions, while the whole +company of black lookers-on, incited by the tones of the weird +music and the violent posturing of the dancers, swayed and writhed +in passionate sympathy, beating their breasts, palms and thighs in +time with the bones and drums, and at frequent intervals lifting, +in that wild African unison no more to be described than forgotten, +the unutterable songs of the Babouille and Counjaille dances, with +their ejaculatory burdens of "<i>Aie! Aie! Voudou Magnan!</i>" and +"<i>Aie Calinda! Dancé Calinda!</i>" The volume of sound +rose and fell with the augmentation or diminution of the dancers' +extravagances. Now a fresh man, young and supple, bounding into the +ring, revived the flagging rattlers, drummers and trumpeters; now a +wearied dancer, finding his strength going, gathered all his force +at the cry of "<i>Dancé zisqu'a mort!</i>" rallied to a +grand finale and with one magnificent antic fell, foaming at the +mouth.</p> +<p>The amusement had reached its height. Many participants had been +lugged out by the neck to avoid their being danced on, and the +enthusiasm had risen to a frenzy, when there bounded into the ring +the blackest of black men, an athlete of superb figure, in breeches +of "Indienne"--the stuff used for slave women's best +dresses--jingling with bells, his feet in moccasins, his tight, +crisp hair decked out with feathers, a necklace of alligator's +teeth rattling on his breast and a living serpent twined about his +neck.</p> +<p>It chanced that but one couple was dancing. Whether they had +been sent there by advice of Agricola is not certain. Snatching a +tambourine from a bystander as he entered, the stranger thrust the +male dancer aside, faced the woman and began a series of +saturnalian antics, compared with which all that had gone before +was tame and sluggish; and as he finally leaped, with tinkling +heels, clean over his bewildered partner's head, the multitude +howled with rapture.</p> +<p>Ill-starred Bras-Coupé. He was in that extra-hazardous +and irresponsible condition of mind and body known in the +undignified present as "drunk again."</p> +<p>By the strangest fortune, if not, as we have just hinted, by +some design, the man whom he had once deposited in the willow +bushes, and the woman Clemence, were the very two dancers, and no +other, whom he had interrupted. The man first stupidly regarded, +next admiringly gazed upon, and then distinctly recognized, his +whilom driver. Five minutes later the Spanish police were putting +their heads together to devise a quick and permanent capture; and +in the midst of the sixth minute, as the wonderful fellow was +rising in a yet more astounding leap than his last, a lasso fell +about his neck and brought him, crashing like a burnt tree, face +upward upon the turf.</p> +<p>"The runaway slave," said the old French code, continued in +force by the Spaniards, "the runaway slave who shall continue to be +so for one month from the day of his being denounced to the +officers of justice shall have his ears cut off and shall be +branded with the flower de luce on the shoulder; and on a second +offence of the same nature, persisted in during one month of his +being denounced, he shall be hamstrung, and be marked with the +flower de luce on the other shoulder. On the third offence he shall +die." Bras-Coupé had run away only twice. "But," said +Agricola, "these 'bossals' must be taught their place. Besides, +there is Article 27 of the same code: 'The slave who, having struck +his master, shall have produced a bruise, shall suffer capital +punishment'--a very necessary law!" He concluded with a scowl upon +Palmyre, who shot back a glance which he never forgot.</p> +<p>The Spaniard showed himself very merciful--for a Spaniard; he +spared the captive's life. He might have been more merciful still; +but Honoré Grandissime said some indignant things in the +African's favor, and as much to teach the Grandissimes a lesson as +to punish the runaway, he would have repented his clemency, as he +repented the momentary truce with Agricola, but for the tearful +pleading of the señora and the hot, dry eyes of her maid. +Because of these he overlooked the offence against his person and +estate, and delivered Bras-Coupé to the law to suffer only +the penalties of the crime he had committed against society by +attempting to be a free man.</p> +<p>We repeat it for the credit of Palmyre, that she pleaded for +Bras-Coupé. But what it cost her to make that intercession, +knowing that his death would leave her free, and that if he lived +she must be his wife, let us not attempt to say.</p> +<p>In the midst of the ancient town, in a part which is now +crumbling away, stood the Calaboza, with its humid vaults and +grated cells, its iron cages and its whips; and there, soon enough, +they strapped Bras-Coupé face downward and laid on the lash. +And yet not a sound came from the mutilated but unconquered African +to annoy the ear of the sleeping city.</p> +<p>("And you suffered this thing to take place?" asked Joseph +Frowenfeld of Honoré Grandissime.</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh!" exclaimed the Creole, "they lied to me--said they +would not harm him!")</p> +<p>He was brought at sunrise to the plantation. The air was sweet +with the smell of the weed-grown fields. The long-horned oxen that +drew him and the naked boy that drove the team stopped before his +cabin.</p> +<p>"You cannot put that creature in there," said the thoughtful +overseer. "He would suffocate under a roof--he has been too long +out-of-doors for that. Put him on my cottage porch." There, at +last, Palmyre burst into tears and sank down, while before her, on +a soft bed of dry grass, rested the helpless form of the captive +giant, a cloth thrown over his galled back, his ears shorn from his +head, and the tendons behind his knees severed. His eyes were dry, +but there was in them that unspeakable despair that fills the eye +of the charger when, fallen in battle, he gazes with +sidewise-bended neck on the ruin wrought upon him. His eye turned +sometimes slowly to his wife. He need not demand her now--she was +always by him.</p> +<p>There was much talk over him--much idle talk. He merely lay +still under it with a fixed frown; but once some incautious tongue +dropped the name of Agricola. The black man's eyes came so quickly +round to Palmyre that she thought he would speak; but no; his words +were all in his eyes. She answered their gleam with a fierce +affirmative glance, whereupon he slowly bent his head and spat upon +the floor.</p> +<p>There was yet one more trial of his wild nature. The mandate +came from his master's sick-bed that he must lift the curse.</p> +<p>Bras-Coupé merely smiled. God keep thy enemy from such a +smile!</p> +<p>The overseer, with a policy less Spanish than his master's, +endeavored to use persuasion. But the fallen prince would not so +much as turn one glance from his parted hamstrings. Palmyre was +then besought to intercede. She made one poor attempt, but her +husband was nearer doing her an unkindness than ever he had been +before; he made a slow sign for silence--with his fist; and every +mouth was stopped.</p> +<p>At midnight following, there came, on the breeze that blew from +the mansion, a sound of running here and there, of wailing and +sobbing--another Bridegroom was coming, and the Spaniard, with much +such a lamp in hand as most of us shall be found with, neither +burning brightly nor wholly gone out, went forth to meet Him.</p> +<p>"Bras-Coupé," said Palmyre, next evening, speaking low in +his mangled ear, "the master is dead; he is just buried. As he was +dying, Bras-Coupé, he asked that you would forgive him."</p> +<p>The maimed man looked steadfastly at his wife. He had not spoken +since the lash struck him, and he spoke not now; but in those +large, clear eyes, where his remaining strength seemed to have +taken refuge as in a citadel, the old fierceness flared up for a +moment, and then, like an expiring beacon, went out.</p> +<p>"Is your mistress well enough by this time to venture here?" +whispered the overseer to Palmyre. "Let her come. Tell her not to +fear, but to bring the babe--in her own arms, tell +her--quickly!"</p> +<p>The lady came, her infant boy in her arms, knelt down beside the +bed of sweet grass and set the child within the hollow of the +African's arm. Bras-Coupé turned his gaze upon it; it +smiled, its mother's smile, and put its hand upon the runaway's +face, and the first tears of Bras-Coupé's life, the dying +testimony of his humanity, gushed from his eyes and rolled down his +cheek upon the infant's hand. He laid his own tenderly upon the +babe's forehead, then removing it, waved it abroad, inaudibly moved +his lips, dropped his arm, and closed his eyes. The curse was +lifted.</p> +<p>"<i>Le pauv' dgiab'</i>!" said the overseer, wiping his eyes and +looking fieldward. "Palmyre, you must get the priest."</p> +<p>The priest came, in the identical gown in which he had appeared +the night of the two weddings. To the good father's many tender +questions Bras-Coupé turned a failing eye that gave no +answers; until, at length:</p> +<p>"Do you know where you are going?" asked the holy man.</p> +<p>"Yes," answered his eyes, brightening.</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>He did not reply; he was lost in contemplation, and seemed +looking far away.</p> +<p>So the question was repeated.</p> +<p>"Do you know where you are going?"</p> +<p>And again the answer of the eyes. He knew.</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>The overseer at the edge of the porch, the widow with her babe, +and Palmyre and the priest bending over the dying bed, turned an +eager ear to catch the answer.</p> +<p>"To--" the voice failed a moment; the departing hero essayed +again; again it failed; he tried once more, lifted his hand, and +with an ecstatic, upward smile, whispered, "To--Africa"--and was +gone.</p> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/gs2279.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<p class="lft"><img src="images/gs2281.jpg" width="60%" alt=""></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>PARALYSIS</h3> +<br> +<p>As we have said, the story of Bras-Coupé was told that +day three times: to the Grandissime beauties once, to Frowenfeld +twice. The fair Grandissimes all agreed, at the close; that it was +pitiful. Specially, that it was a great pity to have hamstrung +Bras-Coupé, a man who even in his cursing had made an +exception in favor of the ladies. True, they could suggest no +alternative; it was undeniable that he had deserved his fate; +still, it seemed a pity. They dispersed, retired and went to sleep +confirmed in this sentiment. In Frowenfeld the story stirred deeper +feelings.</p> +<p>On this same day, while it was still early morning, +Honoré Grandissime, f.m.c., with more than even his wonted +slowness of step and propriety of rich attire, had reappeared in +the shop of the rue Royale. He did not need to say he desired +another private interview. Frowenfeld ushered him silently and at +once into his rear room, offered him a chair (which he accepted), +and sat down before him.</p> +<p>In his labored way the quadroon stated his knowledge that +Frowenfeld had been three times to the dwelling of Palmyre +Philosophe. Why, he further intimated, he knew not, nor would he +ask; but <i>he</i>--when <i>he</i> had applied for admission--had +been refused. He had laid open his heart to the apothecary's +eyes--"It may have been unwisely--"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld interrupted him; Palmyre had been ill for several +days; Doctor Keene--who, Mr. Grandissime probably knew, was her +physician--</p> +<p>The landlord bowed, and Frowenfeld went on to explain that +Doctor Keene, while attending her, had also fallen sick and had +asked him to take the care of this one case until he could himself +resume it. So there, in a word, was the reason why Joseph had, and +others had not, been admitted to her presence.</p> +<p>As obviously to the apothecary's eyes as anything intangible +could be, a load of suffering was lifted from the quadroon's mind, +as this explanation was concluded. Yet he only sat in meditation +before his tenant, who regarded him long and sadly. Then, seized +with one of his energetic impulses, he suddenly said:</p> +<p>"Mr. Grandissime, you are a man of intelligence, +accomplishments, leisure and wealth; why" (clenchings his fists and +frowning), "why do you not give yourself--your +time--wealth--attainments--energies--everything--to the cause of +the downtrodden race with which this community's scorn unjustly +compels you to rank yourself?"</p> +<p>The quadroon did not meet Frowenfeld's kindled eyes for a +moment, and when he did, it was slowly and dejectedly.</p> +<p>"He canno' be," he said, and then, seeing his words were not +understood, he added: "He 'ave no Cause. Dad peop' 'ave no Cause." +He went on from this with many pauses and gropings after words and +idiom, to tell, with a plaintiveness that seemed to Frowenfeld +almost unmanly, the reasons why the people, a little of whose blood +had been enough to blast his life, would never be free by the force +of their own arm. Reduced to the meanings which he vainly tried to +convey in words, his statement was this: that that people was not a +people. Their cause--was in Africa. They upheld it there--they lost +it there--and to those that are here the struggle was over; they +were, one and all, prisoners of war.</p> +<p>"You speak of them in the third person," said Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Ah ham nod a slev."</p> +<p>"Are you certain of that?" asked the tenant.</p> +<p>His landlord looked at him.</p> +<p>"It seems to me," said Frowenfeld, "that you--your class--the +free quadroons--are the saddest slaves of all. Your men, for a +little property, and your women, for a little amorous attention, +let themselves be shorn even of the virtue of discontent, and for a +paltry bait of sham freedom have consented to endure a tyrannous +contumely which flattens them into the dirt like grass under a +slab. I would rather be a runaway in the swamps than content myself +with such a freedom. As your class stands before the world +to-day--free in form but slaves in spirit--you are--I do not know +but I was almost ready to say--a warning to philanthropists!"</p> +<p>The free man of color slowly arose.</p> +<p>"I trust you know," said Frowenfeld, "that I say nothing in +offence."</p> +<p>"Havery word is tru'," replied the sad man.</p> +<p>"Mr. Grandissime," said the apothecary, as his landlord sank +back again into his seat, "I know you are a broken-hearted +man."</p> +<p>The quadroon laid his fist upon his heart and looked up.</p> +<p>"And being broken-hearted, you are thus specially fitted for a +work of patient and sustained self-sacrifice. You have only those +things to lose which grief has taught you to despise--ease, money, +display. Give yourself to your people--to those, I mean, who groan, +or should groan, under the degraded lot which is theirs and yours +in common."</p> +<p>The quadroon shook his head, and after a moment's silence, +answered:</p> +<p>"Ah cannod be one Toussaint l'Ouverture. Ah cannod trah to be. +Hiv I trah, I h-only s'all soogceed to be one +Bras-Coupé."</p> +<p>"You entirely misunderstand me," said Frowenfeld in quick +response. "I have no stronger disbelief than my disbelief in +insurrection. I believe that to every desirable end there are two +roads, the way of strife and the way of peace. I can imagine a man +in your place, going about among his people, stirring up their +minds to a noble discontent, laying out his means, sparingly here +and bountifully there, as in each case might seem wisest, for their +enlightenment, their moral elevation, their training in skilled +work; going, too, among the men of the prouder caste, among such as +have a spirit of fairness, and seeking to prevail with them for a +public recognition of the rights of all; using all his cunning to +show them the double damage of all oppression, both great and +petty--"</p> +<p>The quadroon motioned "enough." There was a heat in his eyes +which Frowenfeld had never seen before.</p> +<p>"M'sieu'," he said, "waid till Agricola Fusilier ees keel."</p> +<p>"Do you mean 'dies'?"</p> +<p>"No," insisted the quadroon; "listen." And with slow, +painstaking phrase this man of strong feeling and feeble will (the +trait of his caste) told--as Frowenfeld felt he would do the moment +he said "listen"--such part of the story of Bras-Coupé as +showed how he came by his deadly hatred of Agricola.</p> +<p>"Tale me," said the landlord, as he concluded the recital, "w'y +deen Bras Coupé mague dad curze on Agricola Fusilier? Becoze +Agricola ees one sorcier! Elz 'e bin dade sinz long tamm."</p> +<p>The speaker's gestures seemed to imply that his own hand, if +need be, would have brought the event to pass.</p> +<p>As he rose to say adieu, Frowenfeld, without previous intention, +laid a hand upon his visitor's arm.</p> +<p>"Is there no one who can make peace between you?"</p> +<p>The landlord shook his head.</p> +<p>"'Tis impossib'. We don' wand."</p> +<p>"I mean," insisted Frowenfeld, "Is there no man who can stand +between you and those who wrong you, and effect a peaceful +reparation?"</p> +<p>The landlord slowly moved away, neither he nor his tenant +speaking, but each knowing that the one man in the minds of both, +as a possible peacemaker, was Honoré Grandissime.</p> +<p>"Should the opportunity offer," continued Joseph, "may I speak a +word for you myself?"</p> +<p>The quadroon paused a moment, smiled politely though bitterly, +and departed repeating again:</p> +<p>"'Tis impossib'. We don' wand."</p> +<p>"Palsied," murmured Frowenfeld, looking after him, +regretfully,--"like all of them."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's thoughts were still on the same theme when, the day +having passed, the hour was approaching wherein Innerarity was +exhorted to tell his good-night story in the merry circle at the +distant Grandissime mansion. As the apothecary was closing his last +door for the night, the fairer Honoré called him out into +the moonlight.</p> +<p>"Withered," the student was saying audibly to himself, "not in +the shadow of the Ethiopian, but in the glare of the white +man."</p> +<p>"Who is withered?" pleasantly demanded Honoré. The +apothecary started slightly.</p> +<p>"Did I speak? How do you do, sir? I meant the free +quadroons."</p> +<p>"Including the gentleman from whom you rent your store?"</p> +<p>"Yes, him especially; he told me this morning the story of +Bras-Coupé."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime laughed. Joseph did not see why, nor did the +laugh sound entirely genuine.</p> +<p>"Do not open the door, Mr Frowenfeld," said the Creole, "Get +your greatcoat and cane and come take a walk with me; I will tell +you the same story."</p> +<p>It was two hours before they approached this door again on their +return. Just before they reached it, Honoré stopped under +the huge street-lamp, whose light had gone out, where a large stone +lay before him on the ground in the narrow, moonlit street. There +was a tall, unfinished building at his back.</p> +<p>"Mr Frowenfeld,"--he struck the stone with his cane,--"this +stone is Bras-Coupé--we cast it aside because it turns the +edge of our tools."</p> +<p>He laughed. He had laughed to-night more than was comfortable to +a man of Frowenfeld's quiet mind.</p> +<p>As the apothecary thrust his shopkey into the lock and so paused +to hear his companion, who had begun again to speak, he wondered +what it could be--for M. Grandissime had not disclosed it--that +induced such a man as he to roam aimlessly, as it seemed, in +deserted streets at such chill and dangerous hours. "What does he +want with me?" The thought was so natural that it was no miracle +the Creole read it.</p> +<p>"Well," said he, smiling and taking an attitude, "you are a +great man for causes, Mr. Frowenfeld; but me, I am for results, ha, +ha! You may ponder the philosophy of Bras-Coupé in your +study, but <i>I</i> have got to get rid of his results, me. You +know them."</p> +<p>"You tell me it revived a war where you had made a peace," said +Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Yes--yes--that is his results; but good night, Mr. +Frowenfeld."</p> +<p>"Good night, sir."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<h3>ANOTHER WOUND IN A NEW PLACE</h3> +<br> +<p>Each day found Doctor Keene's strength increasing, and on the +morning following the incidents last recorded he was imprudently +projecting an outdoor promenade. An announcement from Honoré +Grandissime, who had paid an early call, had, to that gentleman's +no small surprise, produced a sudden and violent effect on the +little man's temper.</p> +<p>He was sitting alone by his window, looking out upon the levee, +when the apothecary entered the apartment.</p> +<p>"Frowenfeld," he instantly began, with evident displeasure most +unaccountable to Joseph, "I hear you have been visiting the +Nancanous."</p> +<p>"Yes, I have been there."</p> +<p>"Well, you had no business to go!"</p> +<p>Doctor Keene smote the arm of his chair with his fist.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld reddened with indignation, but suppressed his retort. +He stood still in the middle of the floor, and Doctor Keene looked +out of the window.</p> +<p>"Doctor Keene," said the visitor, when his attitude was no +longer tolerable, "have you anything more to say to me before I +leave you?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"It is necessary for me, then, to say that in fulfilment of my +promise, I am going from here to the house of Palmyre, and that she +will need no further attention after to-day. As to your present +manner toward me, I shall endeavor to suspend judgment until I have +some knowledge of its cause."</p> +<p>The doctor made no reply, but went on looking out of the window, +and Frowenfeld turned and left him.</p> +<p>As he arrived in the philosophe's sick-chamber--where he found +her sitting in a chair set well back from a small fire--she +half-whispered "Miché" with a fine, greeting smile, as if to +a brother after a week's absence. To a person forced to lie abed, +shut away from occupation and events, a day is ten, three are a +month: not merely in the wear and tear upon the patience, but also +in the amount of thinking and recollecting done. It was to be +expected, then, that on this, the apothecary's fourth visit, +Palmyre would have learned to take pleasure in his coming.</p> +<p>But the smile was followed by a faint, momentary frown, as if +Frowenfeld had hardly returned it in kind. Likely enough, he had +not. He was not distinctively a man of smiles; and as he engaged in +his appointed task she presently thought of this.</p> +<p>"This wound is doing so well," said Joseph, still engaged with +the bandages, "that I shall not need to come again." He was not +looking at her as he spoke, but he felt her give a sudden start. +"What is this?" he thought, but presently said very quietly: "With +the assistance of your slave woman, you can now attend to it +yourself."</p> +<p>She made no answer.</p> +<p>When, with a bow, he would have bade her good morning, she held +out her hand for his. After a barely perceptible hesitation, he +gave it, whereupon she held it fast, in a way to indicate that +there was something to be said which he must stay and hear.</p> +<p>She looked up into his face. She may have been merely framing in +her mind the word or two of English she was about to utter; but an +excitement shone through her eyes and reddened her lips, and +something sent out from her countenance a look of wild +distress.</p> +<p>"You goin' tell 'im?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Who? Agricola?"</p> +<p>"<i>Non</i>!"</p> +<p>He spoke the next name more softly.</p> +<p>"Honoré?"</p> +<p>Her eyes looked deeply into his for a moment, then dropped, and +she made a sign of assent.</p> +<p>He was about to say that Honoré knew already, but saw no +necessity for doing so, and changed his answer.</p> +<p>"I will never tell any one."</p> +<p>"You know?" she asked, lifting her eyes for an instant. She +meant to ask if he knew the motive that had prompted her murderous +intent.</p> +<p>"I know your whole sad history."</p> +<p>She looked at him for a moment, fixedly; then, still holding his +hand with one of hers, she threw the other to her face and turned +away her head. He thought she moaned.</p> +<p>Thus she remained for a few moments, then suddenly she turned, +clasped both hands about his, her face flamed up and she opened her +lips to speak, but speech failed. An expression of pain and +supplication came upon her countenance, and the cry burst from +her:</p> +<p>"Meg 'im to love me!"</p> +<p>He tried to withdraw his hand, but she held it fast, and, +looking up imploringly with her wide, electric eyes, cried:</p> +<p>"<i>Vous pouvez le faire, vous pouvez le faire</i> (You can do +it, you can do it); <i>vous êtes sorcier, mo conné +bien vous êtes sorcier</i> (you are a sorcerer, I know)."</p> +<p>However harmless or healthful Joseph's touch might be to the +philosophe, he felt now that hers, to him, was poisonous. He dared +encounter her eyes, her touch, her voice, no longer. The better man +in him was suffocating. He scarce had power left to liberate his +right hand with his left, to seize his hat and go.</p> +<p>Instantly she rose from her chair, threw herself on her knees in +his path, and found command of his language sufficient to cry as +she lifted her arms, bared of their drapery:</p> +<p>"Oh, my God! don' rif-used me--don' rif-used me!"</p> +<p>There was no time to know whether Frowenfeld wavered or not. The +thought flashed into his mind that in all probability all the care +and skill he had spent upon the wound was being brought to naught +in this moment of wild posturing and excitement; but before it +could have effect upon his movements, a stunning blow fell upon the +back of his head, and Palmyre's slave woman, the Congo dwarf, under +the impression that it was the most timely of strokes, stood +brandishing a billet of pine and preparing to repeat the blow.</p> +<p>He hurled her, snarling and gnashing like an ape, against the +farther wall, cast the bar from the street door and plunged out, +hatless, bleeding and stunned.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> +<h3>INTERRUPTED PRELIMINARIES</h3> +<br> +<p>About the same time of day, three gentlemen (we use the term +gentlemen in its petrified state) were walking down the rue Royale +from the direction of the Faubourg Ste. Marie.</p> +<p>They were coming down toward Palmyre's corner. The middle one, +tall and shapely, might have been mistaken at first glance for +Honoré Grandissime, but was taller and broader, and wore a +cocked hat, which Honoré did not. It was Valentine. The +short, black-bearded man in buckskin breeches on his right was +Jean-Baptiste Grandissime, and the slight one on the left, who, +with the prettiest and most graceful gestures and balancings, was +leading the conversation, was Hippolyte Brahmin-Mandarin, a cousin +and counterpart of that sturdy-hearted challenger of Agricola, +Sylvestre.</p> +<p>"But after all," he was saying in Louisiana French, "there is no +spot comparable, for comfortable seclusion, to the old orange grove +under the levee on the Point; twenty minutes in a skiff, five +minutes for preliminaries--you would not want more, the ground has +been measured off five hundred times--'are you ready?'--"</p> +<p>"Ah, bah!" said Valentine, tossing his head, "the Yankees would +be down on us before you could count one."</p> +<p>"Well, then, behind the Jesuits' warehouses, if you insist. I +don't care. Perdition take such a government! I am almost sorry I +went to the governor's reception."</p> +<p>"It was quiet, I hear; a sort of quiet ball, all promenading and +no contra-dances. One quadroon ball is worth five of such."</p> +<p>This was the opinion of Jean-Baptiste.</p> +<p>"No, it was fine, anyhow. There was a contra-dance. The music +was--tárata joonc, tará, tará--tárata +joonc, tarárata joonc, tará--oh! it was the finest +thing--and composed here. They compose as fine things here as they +do anywhere in the--look there! That man came out of Palmyre's +house; see how he staggered just then!"</p> +<p>"Drunk," said Jean-Baptiste.</p> +<p>"No, he seems to be hurt. He has been struck on the head. Oho, I +tell you, gentlemen, that same Palmyre is a wonderful animal! Do +you see? She not only defends herself and ejects the wretch, but +she puts her mark upon him; she identifies him, ha, ha, ha! Look at +the high art of the thing; she keeps his hat as a small souvenir +and gives him a receipt for it on the back of his head. Ah! but +hasn't she taught him a lesson? Why, gentlemen,--it is--if it isn't +that sorcerer of an apothecary!"</p> +<p>"What?" exclaimed the other two; "well, well, but this is too +good! Caught at last, ha, ha, ha, the saintly villain! Ah, ha, ha! +Will not Honoré be proud of him now? <i>Ah! voilà un +joli Joseph!</i> What did I tell you? Didn't I <i>always</i> tell +you so?"</p> +<p>"But the beauty of it is, he is caught so cleverly. No +escape--no possible explanation. There he is, gentlemen, as plain +as a rat in a barrel, and with as plain a case. Ha, ha, ha! Isn't +it just glorious?"</p> +<p>And all three laughed in such an ecstasy of glee that Frowenfeld +looked back, saw them, and knew forthwith that his good name was +gone. The three gentlemen, with tears of merriment still in their +eyes, reached a corner and disappeared.</p> +<p>"Mister," said a child, trotting along under Frowenfeld's +elbow,--the odd English of the New Orleans street-urchin was at +that day just beginning to be heard--"Mister, dey got some blood on +de back of you' hade!"</p> +<p>But Frowenfeld hurried on groaning with mental anguish.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> +<h3>UNKINDEST CUT OF ALL</h3> +<br> +<p>It was the year 1804. The world was trembling under the tread of +the dread Corsican. It was but now that he had tossed away the +whole Valley of the Mississippi, dropping it overboard as a little +sand from a balloon, and Christendom in a pale agony of suspense +was watching the turn of his eye; yet when a gibbering black fool +here on the edge of civilization merely swings a pine-knot, the +swinging of that pine-knot becomes to Joseph Frowenfeld, student of +man, a matter of greater moment than the destination of the +Boulogne Flotilla. For it now became for the moment the foremost +necessity of his life to show, to that minute fraction of the +earth's population which our terror misnames "the world," that a +man may leap forth hatless and bleeding from the house of a New +Orleans quadroon into the open street and yet be pure white within. +Would it answer to tell the truth? Parts of that truth he was +pledged not to tell; and even if he could tell it all it was +incredible--bore all the features of a flimsy lie.</p> +<p>"Mister," repeated the same child who had spoken before, +reinforced by another under the other elbow, "dey got some +<i>blood</i> on de back of you' hade."</p> +<p>And the other added the suggestion:</p> +<p>"Dey got one drug-sto', yondah."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld groaned again. The knock had been a hard one, the +ground and sky went round not a little, but he retained withal a +white-hot process of thought that kept before him his hopeless +inability to explain. He was coffined alive. The world (so-called) +would bury him in utter loathing, and write on his headstone the +one word--hypocrite. And he should lie there and helplessly +contemplate Honoré pushing forward those purposes which he +had begun to hope he was to have had the honor of furthering. But +instead of so doing he would now be the by-word of the street.</p> +<p>"Mister," interposed the child once more, spokesman this time +for a dozen blacks and whites of all sizes trailing along before +and behind, "<i>dey got some blood</i> on de back of you' +<i>hade</i>."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>That same morning Clotilde had given a music-scholar her +appointed lesson, and at its conclusion had borrowed of her +patroness (how pleasant it must have been to have such things to +lend!) a little yellow maid, in order that, with more propriety, +she might make a business call. It was that matter of the rent--one +that had of late occasioned her great secret distress. "It is +plain," she had begun to say to herself, unable to comprehend +Aurora's peculiar trust in Providence, "that if the money is to be +got I must get it." A possibility had flashed upon her mind; she +had nurtured it into a project, had submitted it to her +father-confessor in the cathedral, and received his unqualified +approval of it, and was ready this morning to put it into +execution. A great merit of the plan was its simplicity. It was +merely to find for her heaviest bracelet a purchaser in time, and a +price sufficient, to pay to-morrow's "maturities." See there +again!--to her, her little secret was of greater import than the +collision of almost any pine-knot with almost any head.</p> +<p>It must not be accepted as evidence either of her unwillingness +to sell or of the amount of gold in the bracelet, that it took the +total of Clotilde's moral and physical strength to carry it to the +shop where she hoped--against hope--to dispose of it.</p> +<p>'Sieur Frowenfeld, M. Innerarity said, was out, but would +certainly be in in a few minutes, and she was persuaded to take a +chair against the half-hidden door at the bottom of the shop with +the little borrowed maid crouched at her feet.</p> +<p>She had twice or thrice felt a regret that she had undertaken to +wait, and was about to rise and go, when suddenly she saw before +her Joseph Frowenfeld, wiping the sweat of anguish from his brow +and smeared with blood from his forehead down. She rose quickly and +silently, turned sick and blind, and laid her hand upon the back of +the chair for support. Frowenfeld stood an instant before her, +groaned, and disappeared through the door. The little maid, +retreating backward against her from the direction of the +street-door, drew to her attention a crowd of sight-seers which had +rushed up to the doors and against which Raoul was hurriedly +closing the shop.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> +<h3>CLOTILDE AS A SURGEON</h3> +<br> +<p>Was it worse to stay, or to fly? The decision must be +instantaneous. But Raoul made it easy by crying in their common +tongue, as he slammed a massive shutter and shot its bolt:</p> +<p>"Go to him! he is down--I heard him fall. Go to him!"</p> +<p>At this rallying cry she seized her shield--that is to say, the +little yellow attendant--and hurried into the room. Joseph lay just +beyond the middle of the apartment, face downward. She found water +and a basin, wet her own handkerchief, and dropped to her knees +beside his head; but the moment he felt the small feminine hands he +stood up. She took him by the arm.</p> +<p>"<i>Asseyez-vous, Monsieu'</i>--pliz to give you'sev de pens to +seet down, 'Sieu' Frowenfel'."</p> +<p>She spoke with a nervous tenderness in contrast with her alarmed +and entreating expression of face, and gently pushed him into a +chair.</p> +<p>The child ran behind the bed and burst into frightened sobs, but +ceased when Clotilde turned for an instant and glared at her.</p> +<p>"Mague yo' 'ead back," said Clotilde, and with tremulous +tenderness she softly pressed back his brow and began wiping off +the blood. "W'ere you is 'urted?"</p> +<p>But while she was asking her question she had found the gash and +was growing alarmed at its ugliness, when Raoul, having made +everything fast, came in with:</p> +<p>"Wat's de mattah, 'Sieur Frowenfel'? w'at's de mattah wid you? +Oo done dat, 'Sieur Frowen fel'?"</p> +<p>Joseph lifted his head and drew away from it the small hand and +wet handkerchief, and without letting go the hand, looked again +into Clotilde's eyes, and said:</p> +<p>"Go home; oh, go home!"</p> +<p>"Oh! no," protested Raoul, whereupon Clotilde turned upon him +with a perfectly amiable, nurse's grimace for silence.</p> +<p>"I goin' rad now," she said.</p> +<p>Raoul's silence was only momentary.</p> +<p>"Were you lef you' hat, 'Sieur Frowenfel'?" he asked, and stole +an artist's glance at Clotilde, while Joseph straightened up, and +nerving himself to a tolerable calmness of speech, said:</p> +<p>"I have been struck with a stick of wood by a half-witted person +under a misunderstanding of my intentions; but the circumstances +are such as to blacken my character hopelessly; but I am innocent!" +he cried, stretching forward both arms and quite losing his +momentary self-control.</p> +<p>"'Sieu' Frowenfel'!" cried Clotilde, tears leaping to her eyes, +"I am shoe of it!"</p> +<p>"I believe you! I believe you, 'Sieur Frowenfel'!" exclaimed +Raoul with sincerity.</p> +<p>"You will not believe me," said Joseph. "You will not; it will +be impossible."</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>" cried Clotilde, "id shall nod be impossib'!"</p> +<p>But the apothecary shook his head.</p> +<p>"All I can be suspected of will seem probable; the truth only is +incredible."</p> +<p>His head began to sink and a pallor to overspread his face.</p> +<p>"<i>Allez, Monsieur, allez</i>," cried Clotilde to Raoul, a +picture of beautiful terror which he tried afterward to paint from +memory, "<i>appelez</i> Doctah Kin!"</p> +<p>Raoul made a dash for his hat, and the next moment she heard, +with unpleasant distinctness, his impetuous hand slam the shop door +and lock her in.</p> +<p>"<i>Baille ma do l'eau</i>" she called to the little mulattress, +who responded by searching wildly for a cup and presently bringing +a measuring-glass full of water.</p> +<p>Clotilde gave it to the wounded man, and he rose at once and +stood on his feet.</p> +<p>"Raoul."</p> +<p>"'E gone at Doctah Kin."</p> +<p>"I do not need Doctor Keene; I am not badly hurt. Raoul should +not have left you here in this manner. You must not stay."</p> +<p>"Bud, 'Sieur Frowenfel', I am afred to paz dad gangue!"</p> +<p>A new distress seized Joseph in view of this additional +complication. But, unmindful of this suggestion, the fair Creole +suddenly exclaimed:</p> +<p>"'Sieu' Frowenfel', you har a hinnocen' man! Go, hopen yo' do's +an' stan juz as you har ub biffo dad crowd and sesso! My God! +'Sieu' Frowenfel', iv you cannod stan' ub by you'sev--"</p> +<p>She ceased suddenly with a wild look, as if another word would +have broken the levees of her eyes, and in that instant Frowenfeld +recovered the full stature of a man.</p> +<p>"God bless you!" he cried. "I will do it!" He started, then +turned again toward her, dumb for an instant, and said: "And God +reward you! You believe in me, and you do not even know me."</p> +<p>Her eyes became wilder still as she looked up into his face with +the words:</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, I does know you--betteh'n you know annyt'in' boud +it!" and turned away, blushing violently.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld gave a start. She had given him too much light. He +recognized her, and she knew it. For another instant he gazed at +her averted face, and then with forced quietness said:</p> +<p>"Please go into the shop."</p> +<p>The whole time that had elapsed since the shutting of the doors +had not exceeded five minutes; a sixth sufficed for Clotilde and +her attendant to resume their original position in the nook by the +private door and for Frowenfeld to wash his face and hands. Then +the alert and numerous ears without heard a drawing of bolts at the +door next to that which Raoul had issued, its leaves opened +outward, and first the pale hands and then the white, weakened face +and still bloody hair and apparel of the apothecary made their +appearance. He opened a window and another door. The one locked by +Raoul, when unbolted, yielded without a key, and the shop stood +open.</p> +<p>"My friends," said the trembling proprietor, "if any of you +wishes to buy anything, I am ready to serve him. The rest will +please move away."</p> +<p>The invitation, though probably understood, was responded to by +only a few at the banquette's edge, where a respectable face or two +wore scrutinizing frowns. The remainder persisted in silently +standing and gazing in at the bloody man.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld bore the gaze. There was one element of emphatic +satisfaction in it--it drew their observation from Clotilde at the +other end of the shop. He stole a glance backward; she was not +there. She had watched her chance, safely escaped through the side +door, and was gone.</p> +<p>Raoul returned.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', Doctor Keene is took worse ag'in. 'E is in +bed; but 'e say to tell you in dat lill troubl' of dis mawnin' it +is himseff w'at is inti'lie wrong, an' 'e hass you poddon. 'E says +sen' fo' Doctor Conrotte, but I din go fo' him; dat ole +scoun'rel--he believe in puttin' de niggas fre'."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld said he would not consult professional advisers; with +a little assistance from Raoul, he could give the cut the slight +attention it needed. He went back into his room, while Raoul turned +back to the door and addressed the public.</p> +<p>"Pray, Messieurs, come in and be seated." He spoke in the Creole +French of the gutters. "Come in. M. Frowenfeld is dressing, and +desires that you will have a little patience. Come in. Take chairs. +You will not come in? No? Nor you, Monsieur? No? I will set some +chairs outside, eh? No?"</p> +<p>They moved by twos and threes away, and Raoul, retiring, gave +his employer such momentary aid as was required. When Joseph, in +changed dress, once more appeared, only a child or two lingered to +see him, and he had nothing to do but sit down and, as far as he +felt at liberty to do so, answer his assistant's questions.</p> +<p>During the recital, Raoul was obliged to exercise the severest +self-restraint to avoid laughing,--a feeling which was modified by +the desire to assure his employer that he understood this sort of +thing perfectly, had run the same risks himself, and thought no +less of a man, <i>providing he was a gentleman</i>, because of an +unlucky retributive knock on the head. But he feared laughter would +overclimb speech; and, indeed, with all expression of sympathy +stifled, he did not succeed so completely in hiding the conflicting +emotion but that Joseph did once turn his pale, grave face +surprisedly, hearing a snuffling sound, suddenly stifled in a +drawer of corks. Said Raoul, with an unsteady utterance, as he +slammed the drawer:</p> +<p>"H-h-dat makes me dat I can't 'elp to laugh w'en I t'ink of dat +fool yesse'dy w'at want to buy my pigshoe for honly one 'undred +dolla'--ha, ha ha, ha!"</p> +<p>He laughed almost indecorously.</p> +<p>"Raoul," said Frowenfeld, rising and closing his eyes, "I am +going back for my hat. It would make matters worse for that person +to send it to me, and it would be something like a vindication for +me to go back to the house and get it."</p> +<p>Mr. Innerarity was about to make strenuous objection, when there +came in one whom he recognized as an attaché of his cousin +Honoré's counting-room, and handed the apothecary a note. It +contained Honoré's request that if Frowenfeld was in his +shop he would have the goodness to wait there until the writer +could call and see him.</p> +<p>"I will wait," was the reply.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +<h3>"FO' WAD YOU CRYNE?"</h3> +<br> +<p>Clotilde, a step or two from home, dismissed her attendant, and +as Aurora, with anxious haste, opened to her familiar knock, +appeared before her pale and trembling.</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, ma fille</i>--"</p> +<p>The overwrought girl dropped her head and wept without restraint +upon her mother's neck. She let herself be guided to a chair, and +there, while Aurora nestled close to her side, yielded a few +moments to reverie before she was called upon to speak. Then Aurora +first quietly took possession of her hands, and after another +tender pause asked in English, which was equivalent to +whispering:</p> +<p>"Were you was, <i>chérie?</i>"</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'--"</p> +<p>Aurora straightened up with angry astonishment and drew in her +breath for an emphatic speech, but Clotilde, liberating her own +hands, took Aurora's, and hurriedly said, turning still paler as +she spoke:</p> +<p>"'E godd his 'ead strigue! 'Tis all knog in be'ine! 'E come in +blidding--"</p> +<p>"In w'ere?" cried Aurora.</p> +<p>"In 'is shob."</p> +<p>"You was in dad shob of 'Sieur Frowenfel'?"</p> +<p>"I wend ad 'is shob to pay doze rend."</p> +<p>"How--you wend ad 'is shob to pay--"</p> +<p>Clotilde produced the bracelet. The two looked at each other in +silence for a moment, while Aurora took in without further +explanation Clotilde's project and its failure.</p> +<p>"An' 'Sieur Frowenfel'--dey kill 'im? Ah! <i>Ma +chère</i>, fo' wad you mague me to hass all dose +question?"</p> +<p>Clotilde gave a brief account of the matter, omitting only her +conversation with Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, oo strigue 'im?" demanded Aurora, impatiently.</p> +<p>"Addunno!" replied the other. "Bud I does know 'e is +hinnocen'!"</p> +<p>A small scouting-party of tears reappeared on the edge of her +eyes.</p> +<p>"Innocen' from wad?"</p> +<p>Aurora betrayed a twinkle of amusement.</p> +<p>"Hev'ryt'in', iv you pliz!" exclaimed Clotilde, with most +uncalled-for warmth.</p> +<p>"An' you crah bic-ause 'e is nod guiltie?"</p> +<p>"Ah! foolish!"</p> +<p>"Ah, non, my chile, I know fo' wad you cryne: 't is h-only de +sighd of de blood."</p> +<p>"Oh, sighd of blood!"</p> +<p>Clotilde let a little nervous laugh escape through her +dejection.</p> +<p>"Well, then,"--Aurora's eyes twinkled like stars,--"id muz be +bic-ause 'Sieur Frowenfel' bump 'is 'ead--ha, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>"'Tis nod tru'!" cried Clotilde; but, instead of laughing, as +Aurora had supposed she would, she sent a double flash of light +from her eyes, crimsoned, and retorted, as the tears again sprang +from their lurking-place, "You wand to mague ligue you don't kyah! +But <i>I</i> know! I know verrie well! You kyah fifty time' as +mudge as me! I know you! I know you! I bin wadge you!"</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2308.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2308.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2308.jpg" width="55%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"'Ma lill dotter, wad dad meggin you cry? Iv you will tell me +wad dad mague you cry, I will tell you--on ma <i>second word of +honor</i>'--she rolled up her fist--'juz wad I thing about dad +'Sieur Frowenfel!'".</b></p> +<br> +<p>Aurora was quite dumb for a moment, and gazed at Clotilde, +wondering what could have made her so unlike herself. Then she half +rose up, and, as she reached forward an arm, and laid it tenderly +about her daughter's neck, said:</p> +<p>"Ma lill dotter, wad dad meggin you cry? Iv you will tell me wad +dad mague you cry, I will tell you--on ma <i>second word of +honor</i>"--she rolled up her fist--"juz wad I thing about dad +'Sieur Frowenfel'!"</p> +<p>"I don't kyah wad de whole worl' thing aboud 'im!"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, anny'ow, tell me fo' wad you cryne!"</p> +<p>Clotilde gazed aside for a moment and then confronted her +questioner consentingly.</p> +<p>"I tole 'im I knowed 'e was h-innocen'."</p> +<p>"Eh, Men, dad was h-only de poli-i-idenez. Wad 'e said?"</p> +<p>"E said I din knowed 'im 'tall."</p> +<p>"An' you," exclaimed Aurora, "it is nod pozzyble dad you--"</p> +<p>"I tole 'im I know 'im bette'n 'e know annyt'in' 'boud id!"</p> +<p>The speaker dropped her face into her mother's lap.</p> +<p>"Ha, ha!" laughed Aurora, "an' wad of dad? I would say dad, me, +fo' time' a day. I gi'e you my word 'e don godd dad sens' to know +wad dad mean."</p> +<p>"Ah! don godd sens'!" cried Clotilde, lifting her head up +suddenly with a face of agony. "'E reg--'e reggo-ni-i-ize me!"</p> +<p>Aurora caught her daughter's cheeks between her hands and +laughed all over them.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, don you see 'ow dad was luggy? Now, you know?--'e +goin' fall in love wid you an' you goin' 'ave dad sadizfagzion to +rif-use de biggis' hand in Noo-'leans. An' you will be h-even, ha, +ha! Bud me--you wand to know wad I thing aboud 'im? I thing 'e is +one--egcellen' drug-cl--ah, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>Clotilde replied with a smile of grieved incredulity.</p> +<p>"De bez in de ciddy!" insisted the other. She crossed the +forefinger of one hand upon that of the other and kissed them, +reversed the cross and kissed them again. "<i>Mais</i>, ad de sem +tam," she added, giving her daughter time to smile, "I thing 'e is +one <i>noble gen'leman</i>. Nod to sood me, of coze, <i>mais, +çà fait rien</i>--daz nott'n; me, I am now a h'ole +woman, you know, eh? Noboddie can' nevva sood me no mo', nod ivven +dad Govenno' Cleb-orne."</p> +<p>She tried to look old and jaded.</p> +<p>"Ah, Govenno' Cleb-orne!" exclaimed Clotilde.</p> +<p>"Yass!--Ah, you!--you thing iv a man is nod a Creole 'e bown to +be no 'coun'! I assu' you dey don' godd no boddy wad I fine a so +nize gen'leman lag Govenno' Cleb-orne! Ah! Clotilde, you godd no +lib'ral'ty!"</p> +<p>The speaker rose, cast a discouraged parting look upon her +narrow-minded companion and went to investigate the slumbrous +silence of the kitchen.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> +<h3>AURORA'S LAST PICAYUNE</h3> +<br> +<p>Not often in Aurora's life had joy and trembling so been mingled +in one cup as on this day. Clotilde wept; and certainly the +mother's heart could but respond; yet Clotilde's tears filled her +with a secret pleasure which fought its way up into the beams of +her eyes and asserted itself in the frequency and heartiness of her +laugh despite her sincere participation in her companion's +distresses and a fearful looking forward to to-morrow.</p> +<p>Why these flashes of gladness? If we do not know, it is because +we have overlooked one of her sources of trouble. From the night of +the <i>bal masqué</i> she had--we dare say no more than that +she had been haunted; she certainly would not at first have +admitted even so much to herself. Yet the fact was not thereby +altered, and first the fact and later the feeling had given her +much distress of mind. Who he was whose image would not down, for a +long time she did not know. This, alone, was torture; not merely +because it was mystery, but because it helped to force upon her +consciousness that her affections, spite of her, were ready and +waiting for him and he did not come after them. That he loved her, +she knew; she had achieved at the ball an overwhelming victory, to +her certain knowledge, or, depend upon it, she never would have +unmasked--never.</p> +<p>But with this torture was mingled not only the ecstasy of +loving, but the fear of her daughter. This is a world that allows +nothing without its obverse and reverse. Strange differences are +often seen between the two sides; and one of the strangest and most +inharmonious in this world of human relations is that coinage which +a mother sometimes finds herself offering to a daughter, and which +reads on one side, Bridegroom, and on the other, Stepfather.</p> +<p>Then, all this torture to be hidden under smiles! Worse still, +when by and by Messieurs Agoussou, Assonquer, Danny and others had +been appealed to and a Providence boundless in tender compassion +had answered in their stead, she and her lover had simultaneously +discovered each other's identity only to find that he was a +Montague to her Capulet. And the source of her agony must be +hidden, and falsely attributed to the rent deficiency and their +unprotected lives. Its true nature must be concealed even from +Clotilde. What a secret--for what a spirit--to keep from what a +companion!--a secret yielding honey to her, but, it might be, gall +to Clotilde. She felt like one locked in the Garden of Eden all +alone--alone with all the ravishing flowers, alone with all the +lions and tigers. She wished she had told the secret when it was +small and had let it increase by gradual accretions in Clotilde's +knowledge day by day. At first it had been but a garland, then it +had become a chain, now it was a ball and chain; and it was oh! and +oh! if Clotilde would only fall in love herself! How that would +simplify matters! More than twice or thrice she had tried to reveal +her overstrained heart in broken sections; but on her approach to +the very outer confines of the matter, Clotilde had always behaved +so strangely, so nervously, in short, so beyond Aurora's +comprehension, that she invariably failed to make any +revelation.</p> +<p>And now, here in the very central darkness of this cloud of +troubles, comes in Clotilde, throws herself upon the defiant little +bosom so full of hidden suffering, and weeps tears of innocent +confession that in a moment lay the dust of half of Aurora's +perplexities. Strange world! The tears of the orphan making the +widow weep for joy, if she only dared.</p> +<p>The pair sat down opposite each other at their little +dinner-table. They had a fixed hour for dinner. It is well to have +a fixed hour; it is in the direction of system. Even if you have +not the dinner, there is the hour. Alphonsina was not in perfect +harmony with this fixed-hour idea. It was Aurora's belief, often +expressed in hungry moments with the laugh of a vexed Creole lady +(a laugh worthy of study), that on the day when dinner should +really be served at the appointed hour, the cook would drop dead of +apoplexy and she of fright. She said it to-day, shutting her arms +down to her side, closing her eyes with her eyebrows raised, and +dropping into her chair at the table like a dead bird from its +perch. Not that she felt particularly hungry; but there is a +certain desultoriness allowable at table more than elsewhere, and +which suited the hither-thither movement of her conflicting +feelings. This is why she had wished for dinner.</p> +<p>Boiled shrimps, rice, claret-and-water, bread--they were dining +well the day before execution. Dining is hardly correct, either, +for Clotilde, at least, did not eat; they only sat. Clotilde had, +too, if not her unknown, at least her unconfessed emotions. +Aurora's were tossed by the waves, hers were sunken beneath them. +Aurora had a faith that the rent would be paid--a faith which was +only a vapor, but a vapor gilded by the sun--that is, by Apollo, +or, to be still more explicit, by Honoré Grandissime. +Clotilde, deprived of this confidence, had tried to raise means +wherewith to meet the dread obligation, or, rather, had tried to +try and had failed. To-day was the ninth, to-morrow, the street. +Joseph Frowenfeld was hurt; her dependence upon his good offices +was gone. When she thought of him suffering under public contumely, +it seemed to her as if she could feel the big drops of blood +dropping from her heart; and when she recalled her own actions, +speeches, and demonstrations in his presence, exaggerated by the +groundless fear that he had guessed into the deepest springs of her +feelings, then she felt those drops of blood congeal. Even if the +apothecary had been duller of discernment than she supposed, here +was Aurora on the opposite side of the table, reading every thought +of her inmost soul. But worst of all was 'Sieur Frowenfel's +indifference. It is true that, as he had directed upon her that +gaze of recognition, there was a look of mighty gladness, if she +dared believe her eyes. But no, she dared not; there was nothing +there for her, she thought,--probably (when this anguish of public +disgrace should by any means be lifted) a benevolent smile at her +and her betrayal of interest. Clotilde felt as though she had been +laid entire upon a slide of his microscope.</p> +<p>Aurora at length broke her reverie.</p> +<p>"Clotilde,"--she spoke in French--"the matter with you is that +you have no heart. You never did have any. Really and truly, you do +not care whether 'Sieur Frowenfel' lives or dies. You do not care +how he is or where he is this minute. I wish you had some of my too +large heart. I not only have the heart, as I tell you, to think +kindly of our enemies, those Grandissime, for example"--she waved +her hand with the air of selecting at random--"but I am burning up +to know what is the condition of that poor, sick, noble 'Sieur +Frowenfel', and I am going to do it!"</p> +<p>The heart which Clotilde was accused of not having gave a stir +of deep gratitude. Dear, pretty little mother! Not only knowing +full well the existence of this swelling heart and the +significance, to-day, of its every warm pulsation, but kindly +covering up the discovery with make-believe reproaches. The tears +started in her eyes; that was her reply.</p> +<p>"Oh, now! it is the rent again, I suppose," cried Aurora, +"always the rent. It is not the rent that worries <i>me</i>, it is +'Sieur Frowenfel', poor man. But very well, Mademoiselle Silence, I +will match you for making me do all the talking." She was really +beginning to sink under the labor of carrying all the sprightliness +for both. "Come," she said, savagely, "propose something."</p> +<p>"Would you think well to go and inquire?"</p> +<p>"Ah, listen! Go and what? No, Mademoiselle, I think not."</p> +<p>"Well, send Alphonsina."</p> +<p>"What? And let him know that I am anxious about him? Let me tell +you, my little girl, I shall not drag upon myself the +responsibility of increasing the self-conceit of any of that +sex."</p> +<p>"Well, then, send to buy a picayune's worth of something."</p> +<p>"Ah, ha, ha! An emetic, for instance. Tell him we are poisoned +on mushrooms, ha, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>Clotilde laughed too.</p> +<p>"Ah, no," she said. "Send for something he does not sell."</p> +<p>Aurora was laughing while Clotilde spoke; but as she caught +these words she stopped with open-mouthed astonishment, and, as +Clotilde blushed, laughed again.</p> +<p>"Oh, Clotilde, Clotilde, Clotilde!"--she leaned forward over the +table, her face beaming with love and laughter--"you rowdy! you +rascal! You are just as bad as your mother, whom you think so +wicked! I accept your advice. Alphonsina!"</p> +<p>"Momselle!"</p> +<p>The answer came from the kitchen.</p> +<p>"Come go--or, rather,--<i>vini 'ci courri dans boutique de +l'apothecaire</i>. Clotilde," she continued, in better French, +holding up the coin to view, "look!"</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>"The last picayune we have in the world--ha, ha, ha!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> +<h3>HONORÉ MAKES SOME CONFESSIONS</h3> +<br> +<p>"Comment çà va, Raoul?" said Honoré +Grandissime; he had come to the shop according to the proposal +contained in his note. "Where is Mr. Frowenfeld?"</p> +<p>He found the apothecary in the rear room, dressed, but just +rising from the bed at sound of his voice. He closed the door after +him; they shook hands and took chairs.</p> +<p>"You have fever," said the merchant. "I have been troubled that +way myself, some, lately." He rubbed his face all over, hard, with +one hand,' and looked at the ceiling. "Loss of sleep, I suppose, in +both of us; in your case voluntary--in pursuit of study, most +likely; in my case--effect of anxiety." He smiled a moment and then +suddenly sobered as after a pause he said:</p> +<p>"But I hear you are in trouble; may I ask--"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld had interrupted him with almost the same words:</p> +<p>"May I venture to ask, Mr. Grandissime, what--"</p> +<p>And both were silent for a moment.</p> +<p>"Oh," said Honoré, with a gesture. "My trouble--I did not +mean to mention it; 't is an old matter--in part. You know, Mr. +Frowenfeld, there is a kind of tree not dreamed of in botany, that +lets fall its fruit every day in the year--you know? We call +it--with reverence--'our dead father's mistakes.' I have had to eat +much of that fruit; a man who has to do that must expect to have +now and then a little fever."</p> +<p>"I have heard," replied Frowenfeld, "that some of the titles +under which your relatives hold their lands are found to be of the +kind which the State's authorities are pronouncing worthless. I +hope this is not the case."</p> +<p>"I wish they had never been put into my custody," said M. +Grandissime.</p> +<p>Some new thought moved him to draw his chair closer.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, those two ladies whom you went to see the other +evening--"</p> +<p>His listener started a little:</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Did they ever tell you their history?"</p> +<p>"No, sir; but I have heard it."</p> +<p>"And you think they have been deeply wronged, eh? Come, Mr. +Frowenfeld, take right hold of the acacia-bush." M. Grandissime did +not smile.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld winced. "I think they have."</p> +<p>"And you think restitution should be made them, no doubt, +eh?"</p> +<p>"I do."</p> +<p>"At any cost?"</p> +<p>The questioner showed a faint, unpleasant smile, that stirred +something like opposition in the breast of the apothecary.</p> +<p>"Yes," he answered.</p> +<p>The next question had a tincture even of fierceness:</p> +<p>"You think it right to sink fifty or a hundred people into +poverty to lift one or two out?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Grandissime," said Frowenfeld, slowly, "you bade me study +this community."</p> +<p>"I adv--yes; what is it you find?"</p> +<p>"I find--it may be the same with other communities, I suppose it +is, more or less--that just upon the culmination of the moral issue +it turns and asks the question which is behind it, instead of the +question which is before it."</p> +<p>"And what is the question before me?"</p> +<p>"I know it only in the abstract."</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>The apothecary looked distressed.</p> +<p>"You should not make me say it," he objected.</p> +<p>"Nevertheless," said the Creole, "I take that liberty."</p> +<p>"Well, then," said Frowenfeld, "the question behind is +Expediency and the question in front, Divine Justice. You are +asking yourself--"</p> +<p>He checked himself.</p> +<p>"Which I ought to regard," said M. Grandissime, quickly. +"Expediency, of course, and be like the rest of mankind." He put on +a look of bitter humor. "It is all easy enough for you, Mr. +Frowenfeld, my-de'-seh; you have the easy part--the +theorizing."</p> +<p>He saw the ungenerousness of his speech as soon as it was +uttered, yet he did not modify it.</p> +<p>"True, Mr. Grandissime," said Frowenfeld; and after a +pause--"but you have the noble part--the doing."</p> +<p>"Ah, my-de'-seh!" exclaimed Honoré; "the noble part! +There is the bitterness of the draught! The opportunity to act is +pushed upon me, but the opportunity to act nobly has passed +by."</p> +<p>He again drew his chair closer, glanced behind him and spoke +low:</p> +<p>"Because for years I have had a kind of custody of all my +kinsmen's property interests, Agricola's among them, it is supposed +that he has always kept the plantation of Aurore Nancanou (or +rather of Clotilde--who, you know, by our laws is the real heir). +That is a mistake. Explain it as you please, call it remorse, +pride, love--what you like--while I was in France and he was +managing my mother's business, unknown to me he gave me that +plantation. When I succeeded him I found it and all its revenues +kept distinct--as was but proper--from all other accounts, and +belonging to me. 'Twas a fine, extensive place, had a good overseer +on it and--I kept it. Why? Because I was a coward. I did not want +it or its revenues; but, like my father, I would not offend my +people. Peace first and justice afterwards--that was the principle +on which I quietly made myself the trustee of a plantation and +income which you would have given back to their owners, eh?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld was silent.</p> +<p>"My-de'-seh, recollect that to us the Grandissime name is a +treasure. And what has preserved it so long? Cherishing the unity +of our family; that has done it; that is how my father did it. Just +or unjust, good or bad, needful or not, done elsewhere or not, I do +not say; but it is a Creole trait. See, even now" (the speaker +smiled on one side of his mouth) "in a certain section of the +territory certain men, Creoles" (he whispered, gravely), "<i>some +Grandissimes among them</i>, evading the United States revenue laws +and even beating and killing some of the officials: well! Do the +people at large repudiate those men? My-de'-seh, in no wise, seh! +No; if they were <i>Américains</i>--but a Louisianian--is a +Louisianian; touch him not; when you touch him you touch all +Louisiana! So with us Grandissimes; we are legion, but we are one. +Now, my-de'-seh, the thing you ask me to do is to cast overboard +that old traditional principle which is the secret of our +existence."</p> +<p>"<i>I</i> ask you?"</p> +<p>"Ah, bah! you know you expect it. Ah! but you do not know the +uproar such an action would make. And no 'noble part' in it, +my-de'-seh, either. A few months ago--when we met by those +graves--if I had acted then, my action would have been one of +pure--even violent--<i>self</i>-sacrifice. Do you remember--on the +levee, by the Place d'Armes--me asking you to send Agricola to me? +I tried then to speak of it. He would not let me. Then, my people +felt safe in their land-titles and public offices; this restitution +would have hurt nothing but pride. Now, titles in doubt, government +appointments uncertain, no ready capital in reach for any purpose, +except that which would have to be handed over with the plantation +(for to tell you the fact, my-de'-seh, no other account on my books +has prospered), with matters changed in this way, I become the +destroyer of my own flesh and blood! Yes, seh! and lest I might +still find some room to boast, another change moves me into a +position where it suits me, my-de'-seh, to make the restitution so +fatal to those of my name. When you and I first met, those ladies +were as much strangers to me as to you--as far as I <i>knew</i>. +Then, if I had done this thing--but now--now, my-de'-seh, I find +myself in love with one of them!"</p> +<p>M. Grandissime looked his friend straight in the eye with the +frowning energy of one who asserts an ugly fact.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, regarding the speaker with a gaze of respectful +attention, did not falter; but his fevered blood, with an impulse +that started him half from his seat, surged up into his head and +face; and then--</p> +<p>M. Grandissime blushed.</p> +<p>In the few silent seconds that followed, the glances of the two +friends continued to pass into each other's eyes, while about +Honoré's mouth hovered the smile of one who candidly +surrenders his innermost secret, and the lips of the apothecary set +themselves together as though he were whispering to himself behind +them, "Steady."</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld," said the Creole, taking a sudden breath and +waving a hand, "I came to ask about <i>your</i> trouble; but if you +think you have any reason to withhold your confidence--"</p> +<p>"No, sir; no! But can I be no help to you in this matter?"</p> +<p>The Creole leaned back smilingly in his chair and knit his +fingers.</p> +<p>"No, I did not intend to say all this; I came to offer my help +to you; but my mind is full--what do you expect? My-de'-seh, the +foam must come first out of the bottle. You see"--he leaned forward +again, laid two fingers in his palm and deepened his tone--"I will +tell you: this tree--'our dead father's mistakes'--is about to drop +another rotten apple. I spoke just now of the uproar this +restitution would make; why, my-de'-seh, just the mention of the +lady's name at my house, when we lately held the <i>fête de +grandpère</i>, has given rise to a quarrel which is likely +to end in a duel."</p> +<p>"Raoul was telling me," said the apothecary.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime made an affirmative gesture.</p> +<p>"Mr. Frowenfeld, if you--if any one--could teach my people--I +mean my family--the value of peace (I do not say the duty, +my-de'-seh; a merchant talks of values); if you could teach them +the value of peace, I would give you, if that was your price"--he +ran the edge of his left hand knife-wise around the wrist of his +right--"that. And if you would teach it to the whole +community--well--I think I would not give my head; maybe you +would." He laughed.</p> +<p>"There is a peace which is bad," said the contemplative +apothecary.</p> +<p>"Yes," said the Creole, promptly, "the very kind that I have +been keeping all this time--and my father before me!"</p> +<p>He spoke with much warmth.</p> +<p>"Yes," he said again, after a pause which was not a rest, "I +often see that we Grandissimes are a good example of the Creoles at +large; we have one element that makes for peace; that--pardon the +self-consciousness--is myself; and another element that makes for +strife--led by my uncle Agricola; but, my-de'-seh, the peace +element is that which ought to make the strife, and the strife +element is that which ought to be made to keep the peace! Mr. +Frowenfeld, I propose to become the strife-maker; how then, can I +be a peacemaker at the same time? There is my diffycultie."</p> +<p>"Mr. Grandissime," exclaimed Frowenfeld, "if you have any design +in view founded on the high principles which I know to be the +foundations of all your feelings, and can make use of the aid of a +disgraced man, use me."</p> +<p>"You are very generous," said the Creole, and both were silent. +Honoré dropped his eyes from Frowenfeld's to the floor, +rubbed his knee with his palm, and suddenly looked up.</p> +<p>"You are innocent of wrong?"</p> +<p>"Before God."</p> +<p>"I feel sure of it. Tell me in a few words all about it. I ought +to be able to extricate you. Let me hear it."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld again told as much as he thought he could, +consistently with his pledges to Palmyre, touching with extreme +lightness upon the part taken by Clotilde.</p> +<p>"Turn around," said M. Grandissime at the close; "let me see the +back of your head. And it is that that is giving you this fever, +eh?"</p> +<p>"Partly," replied Frowenfeld; "but how shall I vindicate my +innocence? I think I ought to go back openly to this woman's house +and get my hat. I was about to do that when I got your note; yet it +seems a feeble--even if possible--expedient."</p> +<p>"My friend," said Honoré, "leave it to me. I see your +whole case, both what you tell and what you conceal. I guess it +with ease. Knowing Palmyre so well, and knowing (what you do not) +that all the voudous in town think you a sorcerer, I know just what +she would drop down and beg you for--a <i>ouangan</i>, ha, ha! You +see? Leave it all to me--and your hat with Palmyre, take a +febrifuge and a nap, and await word from me."</p> +<p>"And may I offer you no help in your difficulty?" asked the +apothecary, as the two rose and grasped hands.</p> +<p>"Oh!" said the Creole, with a little shrug, "you may do anything +you can--which will be nothing."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> +<h3>TESTS OF FRIENDSHIP</h3> +<br> +<p>Frowenfeld turned away from the closing door, caught his head +between his hands and tried to comprehend the new wildness of the +tumult within. Honoré Grandissime avowedly in love with one +of them--<i>which one</i>? Doctor Keene visibly in love with one of +them--<i>which one</i>? And he! What meant this bounding joy that, +like one gorgeous moth among innumerable bats, flashed to and fro +among the wild distresses and dismays swarming in and out of his +distempered imagination? He did not answer the question; he only +knew the confusion in his brain was dreadful. Both hands could not +hold back the throbbing of his temples; the table did not steady +the trembling of his hands; his thoughts went hither and thither, +heedless of his call. Sit down as he might, rise up, pace the room, +stand, lean his forehead against the wall--nothing could quiet the +fearful disorder, until at length he recalled Honoré's +neglected advice and resolutely lay down and sought sleep; and, +long before he had hoped to secure it, it came.</p> +<p>In the distant Grandissime mansion, Agricola Fusilier was +casting about for ways and means to rid himself of the heaviest +heart that ever had throbbed in his bosom. He had risen at sunrise +from slumber worse than sleeplessness, in which his dreams had +anticipated the duel of to-morrow with Sylvestre. He was trying to +get the unwonted quaking out of his hands and the memory of the +night's heart-dissolving phantasms from before his inner vision. To +do this he had resort to a very familiar, we may say time-honored, +prescription--rum. He did not use it after the voudou fashion; the +voudous pour it on the ground--Agricola was an anti-voudou. It +finally had its effect. By eleven o'clock he seemed, outwardly at +least, to be at peace with everything in Louisiana that he +considered Louisianian, properly so-called; as to all else he was +ready for war, as in peace one should be. While in this mood, and +performing at a sideboard the solemn rite of <i>las onze</i>, news +incidentally reached him, by the mouth of his busy second, +Hippolyte, of Frowenfeld's trouble, and despite 'Polyte's +protestations against the principal in a pending "affair" appearing +on the street, he ordered the carriage and hurried to the +apothecary's.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When Frowenfeld awoke, the fingers of his clock were passing the +meridan. His fever was gone, his brain was calm, his strength in +good measure had returned. There had been dreams in his sleep, too; +he had seen Clotilde standing at the foot of his bed. He lay now, +for a moment, lost in retrospection.</p> +<p>"There can be no doubt about it," said he, as he rose up, +looking back mentally at something in the past.</p> +<p>The sound of carriage-wheels attracted his attention by ceasing +before his street door. A moment later the voice of Agricola was +heard in the shop greeting Raoul. As the old man lifted the head of +his staff to tap on the inner door, Frowenfeld opened it.</p> +<p>"Fusilier to the rescue!" said the great Louisianian, with a +grasp of the apothecary's hand and a gaze of brooding +admiration.</p> +<p>Joseph gave him a chair, but with magnificent humility he +insisted on not taking it until "Professor Frowenfeld" had himself +sat down.</p> +<p>The apothecary was very solemn. It seemed to him as if in this +little back room his dead good name was lying in state, and these +visitors were coming in to take their last look. From time to time +he longed for more light, wondering why the gravity of his +misadventure should seem so great.</p> +<p>"H-m-h-y dear Professor!" began the old man. Pages of print +could not comprise all the meanings of his smile and accent; +benevolence, affection, assumed knowledge of the facts, disdain of +results, remembrance of his own youth, charity for pranks, +patronage--these were but a few. He spoke very slowly and deeply +and with this smile of a hundred meanings. "Why did you not send +for me, Joseph? Sir, whenever you have occasion to make a list of +the friends who will stand by you, <i>right or wrong</i>--h-write +the name of Citizen Agricola Fusilier at the top! Write it large +and repeat it at the bottom! You understand me, Joseph?--and, mark +me,--right or wrong!"</p> +<p>"Not wrong," said Frowenfeld, "at least not in defence of wrong; +I could not do that; but, I assure you, in this matter I have +done--"</p> +<p>"No worse than any one else would have done under the +circumstances, my dear boy!--Nay, nay, do not interrupt me; I +understand you, I understand you. H-do you imagine there is +anything strange to me in this--at my age?"</p> +<p>"But I am--"</p> +<p>"--all right, sir! that is <i>what</i> you are. And you are +under the wing of Agricola Fusilier, the old eagle; that is +<i>where</i> you are. And you are one of my brood; that is +<i>who</i> you are. Professor, listen to your old father. +<i>The--man--makes--the--crime!</i> The wisdom of mankind never +brought forth a maxim of more gigantic beauty. If the different +grades of race and society did not have corresponding moral and +civil liberties, varying in degree as they vary--h-why! <i>this</i> +community, at least, would go to pieces! See here! Professor +Frowenfeld is charged with misdemeanor. Very well, who is he? +Foreigner or native? Foreigner by sentiment and intention, or only +by accident of birth? Of our mental fibre--our aspirations--our +delights--our indignations? I answer for you, Joseph, yes!--yes! +What then? H-why, then the decision! Reached how? By apologetic +reasonings? By instinct, sir! h-h-that guide of the nobly proud! +And what is the decision? Not guilty. Professor Frowenfeld, +<i>absolvo te!</i>"</p> +<p>It was in vain that the apothecary repeatedly tried to interrupt +this speech. "Citizen Fusilier, do you know me no +better?"--"Citizen Fusilier, if you will but listen!"--such were +the fragments of his efforts to explain. The old man was not so +confident as he pretended to be that Frowenfeld was that complete +proselyte which alone satisfies a Creole; but he saw him in a +predicament and cast to him this life-buoy, which if a man should +refuse, he would deserve to drown.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld tried again to begin.</p> +<p>"Mr. Fusilier--"</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier!"</p> +<p>"Citizen, candor demands that I undeceive--"</p> +<p>"Candor demands--h-my dear Professor, let me tell you exactly +what she demands. She demands that in here--within this +apartment--we understand each other. That demand is met."</p> +<p>"But--" Frowenfeld frowned impatiently.</p> +<p>"That demand, Joseph, is fully met! I understand the whole +matter like an eye-witness! Now there is another demand to be met, +the demand of friendship! In here, candor; outside, friendship; in +here, one of our brethren has been adventurous and unfortunate; +outside"--the old man smiled a smile of benevolent +mendacity--"outside, nothing has happened."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld insisted savagely on speaking; but Agricola raised +his voice, and gray hairs prevailed.</p> +<p>"At least, what <i>has</i> happened? The most ordinary thing in +the world; Professor Frowenfeld lost his footing on a slippery +gunwale, fell, cut his head upon a protruding spike, and went into +the house of Palmyre to bathe his wound; but finding it worse than +he had at first supposed it, immediately hurried out again and came +to his store. He left his hat where it had fallen, too muddy to be +worth recovery. Hippolyte Brahmin-Mandarin and others, passing at +the time, thought he had met with violence in the house of the +hair-dresser, and drew some natural inferences, but have since been +better informed; and the public will please understand that +Professor Frowenfeld is a white man, a gentleman, and a +Louisianian, ready to vindicate his honor, and that Citizen +Agricola Fusilier is his friend!"</p> +<p>The old man looked around with the air of a bull on a +hill-top.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, vexed beyond degree, restrained himself only for the +sake of an object in view, and contented himself with repeating for +the fourth or fifth time,--</p> +<p>"I cannot accept any such deliverance."</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld, friendship--society--demands it; our +circle must be protected in all its members. You have nothing to do +with it. You will leave it with me, Joseph."</p> +<p>"No, no," said Frowenfeld, "I thank you, but--"</p> +<p>"Ah! my dear boy, thank me not; I cannot help these impulses; I +belong to a warm-hearted race. But"--he drew back in his chair +sidewise and made great pretence of frowning--"you decline the +offices of that precious possession, a Creole friend?"</p> +<p>"I only decline to be shielded by a fiction."</p> +<p>"Ah-h!" said Agricola, further nettling his victim by a gaze of +stagy admiration. "'<i>Sans peur et sans reproche</i>'--and yet you +disappoint me. Is it for naught, that I have sallied forth from +home, drawing the curtains of my carriage to shield me from the +gazing crowd? It was to rescue my friend--my vicar--my +coadjutor--my son--from the laughs and finger-points of the vulgar +mass. H-I might as well have stayed at home--or better, for my +peculiar position to-day rather requires me to keep in--"</p> +<p>"No, citizen," said Frowenfeld, laying his hand upon Agricola's +arm, "I trust it is not in vain that you have come out. There +<i>is</i> a man in trouble whom only you can deliver."</p> +<p>The old man began to swell with complacency.</p> +<p>"H-why, really--"</p> +<p>"<i>He</i>, Citizen, is truly of your kind--"</p> +<p>"He must be delivered, Professor Frowenfeld--"</p> +<p>"He is a native Louisianian, not only by accident of birth but +by sentiment and intention," said Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>The old man smiled a benign delight, but the apothecary now had +the upper hand, and would not hear him speak.</p> +<p>"His aspirations," continued the speaker, "his +indignations--mount with his people's. His pulse beats with yours, +sir. He is a part of your circle. He is one of your caste."</p> +<p>Agricola could not be silent.</p> +<p>"Ha-a-a-ah! Joseph, h-h-you make my blood tingle! Speak to the +point; who--"</p> +<p>"I believe him, moreover, Citizen Fusilier, innocent of the +charge laid--"</p> +<p>"H-innocent? H-of course he is innocent, sir! We will +<i>make</i> him inno--"</p> +<p>"Ah! Citizen, he is already under sentence of death!"</p> +<p>"<i>What?</i> A Creole under sentence!" Agricola swore a heathen +oath, set his knees apart and grasped his staff by the middle. +"Sir, we will liberate him if we have to overturn the +government!"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld shook his head.</p> +<p>"You have got to overturn something stronger than +government."</p> +<p>"And pray what--"</p> +<p>"A conventionality," said Frowenfeld, holding the old man's +eye.</p> +<p>"Ha, ha! my b-hoy, h-you are right. But we will +overturn--eh?"</p> +<p>"I say I fear your engagements will prevent. I hear you take +part to-morrow morning in--"</p> +<p>Agricola suddenly stiffened.</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld, it strikes me, sir, you are taking +something of a liberty."</p> +<p>"For which I ask pardon," exclaimed Frowenfeld. "Then I may not +expect--"</p> +<p>The old man melted again.</p> +<p>"But who is this person in mortal peril?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld hesitated.</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier," he said, looking first down at the floor and +then up into the inquirer's face, "on my assurance that he is not +only a native Creole, but a Grandissime--"</p> +<p>"It is not possible!" exclaimed Agricola.</p> +<p>"--a Grandissime of the purest blood, will you pledge me your +aid to liberate him from his danger, 'right or wrong'?"</p> +<p>"<i>Will</i> I? H-why, certainly! Who is he?"</p> +<p>"Citizen--it is Sylves--"</p> +<p>Agricola sprang up with a thundering oath.</p> +<p>The apothecary put out a pacifying hand, but it was spurned.</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2334.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2334.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2334.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"His head was bowed, a heavy grizzled lock fell down upon his +dark, frowning brow, one hand clenched the top of his staff, the +other his knee, and both trembled violently".</b></p> +<br> +<p>"Let me go! How dare you, sir? How dare you, sir?" bellowed +Agricola.</p> +<p>He started toward the door, cursing furiously and keeping his +eye fixed on Frowenfeld with a look of rage not unmixed with +terror.</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier," said the apothecary, following him with one +palm uplifted, as if that would ward off his abuse, "don't go! I +adjure you, don't go! Remember your pledge, Citizen Fusilier!"</p> +<p>Agricola did not pause a moment; but when he had swung the door +violently open the way was still obstructed. The painter of +"Louisiana refusing to enter the Union" stood before him, his head +elevated loftily, one foot set forward and his arm extended like a +tragedian's.</p> +<p>"Stan' bag-sah!"</p> +<p>"Let me pass! Let me pass, or I will kill you!"</p> +<p>Mr. Innerarity smote his bosom and tossed his hand aloft.</p> +<p>"Kill me-firse an' pass aftah!"</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier," said Frowenfeld, "I beg you to hear me."</p> +<p>"Go away! Go away!"</p> +<p>The old man drew back from the door and stood in the corner +against the book-shelves as if all the horrors of the last night's +dreams had taken bodily shape in the person of the apothecary. He +trembled and stammered:</p> +<p>"Ke--keep off! Keep off! My God! Raoul, he has insulted me!" He +made a miserable show of drawing a weapon. "No man may insult me +and live! If you are a man, Professor Frowenfeld, you will defend +yourself!"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld lost his temper, but his hasty reply was drowned by +Raoul's vehement speech.</p> +<p>"'Tis not de trute!" cried Raoul. "He try to save you from +hell-'n'-damnation w'en 'e h-ought to give you a good cuss'n!"--and +in the ecstasy of his anger burst into tears.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, in an agony of annoyance, waved him away and he +disappeared, shutting the door.</p> +<p>Agricola, moved far more from within than from without, had sunk +into a chair under the shelves. His head was bowed, a heavy +grizzled lock fell down upon his dark, frowning brow, one hand +clenched the top of his staff, the other his knee, and both +trembled violently. As Frowenfeld, with every demonstration of +beseeching kindness, began to speak, he lifted his eyes and said, +piteously:</p> +<p>"Stop! Stop!"</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier, it is you who must stop. Stop before God +Almighty stops you, I beg you. I do not presume to rebuke you. I +<i>know</i> you want a clear record. I know it better to-day than I +ever did before. Citizen Fusilier, I honor your intentions--"</p> +<p>Agricola roused a little and looked up with a miserable attempt +at his habitual patronizing smile.</p> +<p>"H-my dear boy, I overlook"--but he met in</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's eyes a spirit so superior to his dissimulation that +the smile quite broke down and gave way to another of deprecatory +and apologetic distress. He reached up an arm.</p> +<p>"I could easily convince you, Professor, of your error"--his +eyes quailed and dropped to the floor--"but I--your arm, my dear +Joseph; age is creeping upon me." He rose to his feet. "I am +feeling really indisposed to-day--not at all bright; my solicitude +for you, my dear b--"</p> +<p>He took two or three steps forward, tottered, clung to the +apothecary, moved another step or two, and grasping the edge of the +table stumbled into a chair which Frowenfeld thrust under him. He +folded his arms on the edge of the board and rested his forehead on +them, while Frowenfeld sat down quickly on the opposite side, drew +paper and pen across the table and wrote.</p> +<p>"Are you writing something, Professor?" asked the old man, +without stirring. His staff tumbled to the floor. The apothecary's +answer was a low, preoccupied one. Two or three times over he wrote +and rejected what he had written.</p> +<p>Presently he pushed back his chair, came around the table, laid +the writing he had made before the bowed head, sat down again and +waited.</p> +<p>After a long time the old man looked up, trying in vain to +conceal his anguish under a smile.</p> +<p>"I have a sad headache."</p> +<p>He cast his eyes over the table and took mechanically the pen +which Frowenfeld extended toward him.</p> +<p>"What can I do for you, Professor? Sign something? There is +nothing I would not do for Professor Frowenfeld. What have you +written, eh?"</p> +<p>He felt helplessly for his spectacles.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld read:</p> +<p>"<i>Mr. Sylvestre Grandissime: I spoke in haste</i>."</p> +<p>He felt himself tremble as he read. Agricola fumbled with the +pen, lifted his eyes with one more effort at the old look, said, +"My dear boy, I do this purely to please you," and to Frowenfeld's +delight and astonishment wrote:</p> +<p>"<i>Your affectionate uncle, Agricola Fusilier</i>."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> +<h3>LOUISIANA STATES HER WANTS</h3> +<br> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Raoul as that person turned in the +front door of the shop after watching Agricola's carriage roll +away--he had intended to unburden his mind to the apothecary with +all his natural impetuosity; but Frowenfeld's gravity as he turned, +with the paper in his hand, induced a different manner. Raoul had +learned, despite all the impulses of his nature, to look upon +Frowenfeld with a sort of enthusiastic awe. He dropped his voice +and said--asking like a child a question he was perfectly able to +answer--</p> +<p>"What de matta wid Agricole?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld, for the moment well-nigh oblivious of his own +trouble, turned upon his assistant a look in which elation was +oddly blended with solemnity, and replied as he walked by:</p> +<p>"Rush of truth to the heart."</p> +<p>Raoul followed a step.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel'--"</p> +<p>The apothecary turned once more. Raoul's face bore an expression +of earnest practicability that invited confidence.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', Agricola writ'n' to Sylvestre to stop dat +dool?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"You goin' take dat lett' to Sylvestre?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', dat de wrong g-way. You got to take it to +'Polyte Brahmin-Mandarin, an' 'e got to take it to Valentine +Grandissime, an' '<i>e</i> got to take it to Sylvestre. You see, +you got to know de manner to make. Once 'pon a time I had a +diffycultie wid--"</p> +<p>"I see," said Frowenfeld; "where may I find Hippolyte +Brahmin-Mandarin at this time of day?"</p> +<p>Raoul shrugged.</p> +<p>"If the pre-parish-ions are not complitted, you will not find +'im; but if they har complitted--you know 'im?"</p> +<p>"By sight."</p> +<p>"Well, you may fine him at Maspero's, or helse in de front of de +Veau-qui-tête, or helse at de Café Louis +Quatorze--mos' likely in front of de Veau-qui-tête. You know, +dat diffycultie I had, dat arise itseff from de discush'n of one of +de mil-littery mov'ments of ca-valry; you know, I--"</p> +<p>"Yes," said the apothecary; "here, Raoul, is some money; please +go and buy me a good, plain hat."</p> +<p>"All right." Raoul darted behind the counter and got his hat out +of a drawer. "Were at you buy your hats?"</p> +<p>"Anywhere."</p> +<p>"I will go at <i>my</i> hatter."</p> +<p>As the apothecary moved about his shop awaiting Raoul's return, +his own disaster became once more the subject of his anxiety. He +noticed that almost every person who passed looked in. "This is the +place,"--"That is the man,"--how plainly the glances of passers +sometimes speak! The people seemed, moreover, a little nervous. +Could even so little a city be stirred about such a petty, private +trouble as this of his? No; the city was having tribulations of its +own.</p> +<p>New Orleans was in that state of suppressed excitement which, in +later days, a frequent need of reassuring the outer world has +caused to be described by the phrase "never more peaceable." Raoul +perceived it before he had left the shop twenty paces behind. By +the time he reached the first corner he was in the swirl of the +popular current. He enjoyed it like a strong swimmer. He even drank +of it. It was better than wine and music mingled.</p> +<p>"Twelve weeks next Thursday, and no sign of re-cession!" said +one of two rapid walkers just in front of him. Their talk was in +the French of the province.</p> +<p>"Oh, re-cession!" exclaimed the other angrily. "The cession is a +reality. That, at least, we have got to swallow. Incredulity is +dead."</p> +<p>The first speaker's feelings could find expression only in +profanity.</p> +<p>"The cession--we wash our hands of it!" He turned partly around +upon his companion, as they hurried along, and gave his hands a +vehement dry washing. "If Incredulity is dead, Non-participation +reigns in its stead, and Discontent is prime minister!" He +brandished his fist as they turned a corner.</p> +<p>"If we must change, let us be subjects of the First Consul!" +said one of another pair whom Raoul met on a crossing.</p> +<p>There was a gathering of boys and vagabonds at the door of a +gun-shop. A man inside was buying a gun. That was all.</p> +<p>A group came out of a "coffee-house." The leader turned about +upon the rest:</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, bah! cette</i> Amayrican libetty!"</p> +<p>"See! see! it is this way!" said another of the number, taking +two others by their elbows, to secure an audience, "we shall do +nothing ourselves; we are just watching that vile Congress. It is +going to tear the country all to bits!"</p> +<p>"Ah, my friend, you haven't got the <i>inside</i> news," said +still another--Raoul lingered to hear him--"Louisiana is going to +state her wants! We have the liberty of free speech and are going +to use it!"</p> +<p>His information was correct; Louisiana, no longer incredulous of +her Americanization, had laid hold of her new liberties and was +beginning to run with them, like a boy dragging his kite over the +clods. She was about to state her wants, he said.</p> +<p>"And her don't-wants," volunteered one whose hand Raoul shook +heartily. "We warn the world. If Congress doesn't take heed, we +will not be responsible for the consequences!"</p> +<p>Raoul's hatter was full of the subject. As Mr. Innerarity +entered, he was saying good-day to a customer in his native tongue, +English, and so continued:</p> +<p>"Yes, under Spain we had a solid, quiet government--Ah! Mr. +Innerarity, overjoyed to see you! We were speaking of these +political troubles. I wish we might see the last of them. It's a +terrible bad mess; corruption to-day--I tell you what--it will be +disruption to-morrow. Well, it is no work of ours; we shall merely +stand off and see it."</p> +<p>"Mi-frien'," said Raoul, with mingled pity and superiority, "you +haven't got doze <i>inside</i> nooz; Louisiana is goin' to state +w'at she want."</p> +<p>On his way back toward the shop Mr. Innerarity easily learned +Louisiana's wants and don't-wants by heart. She wanted a Creole +governor; she did not want Casa Calvo invited to leave the country; +she wanted the provisions of the Treaty of Cession hurried up; "as +soon as possible," that instrument said; she had waited long +enough; she did not want "dat trile bi-ju'y"--execrable trash! she +wanted an <i>unwatched import trade!</i> she did not want a single +additional Américain appointed to office; she wanted the +slave trade.</p> +<p>Just in sight of the bareheaded and anxious Frowenfeld, Raoul +let himself be stopped by a friend.</p> +<p>The remark was exchanged that the times were exciting.</p> +<p>"And yet," said the friend, "the city was never more peaceable. +It is exasperating to see that coward governor looking so +diligently after his police and hurrying on the organization of the +Américain volunteer militia!" He pointed savagely here and +there. "M. Innerarity, I am lost in admiration at the all but +craven patience with which our people endure their wrongs! Do my +pistols show <i>too</i> much through my coat? Well, good-day; I +must go home and clean my gun; my dear friend, one don't know how +soon he may have to encounter the Recorder and Register of +Land-titles."</p> +<p>Raoul finished his errand.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', excuse me--I take dat lett' to 'Polyte for +you if you want." There are times when mere shopkeeping--any +peaceful routine--is torture.</p> +<p>But the apothecary felt so himself; he declined his assistant's +offer and went out toward the Veau-qui-tête.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> +<h3>FROWENFELD FINDS SYLVESTRE</h3> +<br> +<p>The Veau-qui-tête restaurant occupied the whole ground +floor of a small, low, two-story, tile-roofed, brick-and-stucco +building which still stands on the corner of Chartres and St. Peter +streets, in company with the well-preserved old Cabildo and the +young Cathedral, reminding one of the shabby and swarthy Creoles +whom we sometimes see helping better-kept kinsmen to murder time on +the banquettes of the old French Quarter. It was a favorite +rendezvous of the higher classes, convenient to the court-rooms and +municipal bureaus. There you found the choicest legal and political +gossips, with the best the market afforded of meat and drink.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld found a considerable number of persons there. He had +to move about among them to some extent, to make sure he was not +overlooking the object of his search.</p> +<p>As he entered the door, a man sitting near it stopped talking, +gazed rudely as he passed, and then leaned across the table and +smiled and murmured to his companion. The subject of his jest felt +their four eyes on his back.</p> +<p>There was a loud buzz of conversation throughout the room, but +wherever he went a wake of momentary silence followed him, and once +or twice he saw elbows nudged. He perceived that there was +something in the state of mind of these good citizens that made the +present sight of him particularly discordant.</p> +<p>Four men, leaning or standing at a small bar, were talking +excitedly in the Creole patois. They made frequent anxious, yet +amusedly defiant, mention of a certain <i>Pointe Canadienne</i>. It +was a portion of the Mississippi River "coast" not far above New +Orleans, where the merchants of the city met the smugglers who came +up from the Gulf by way of Barrataria Bay and Bayou. These four men +did not call it by the proper title just given; there were +commercial gentlemen in the Creole city, Englishmen, Scotchmen, +Yankees, as well as French and Spanish Creoles, who in public +indignantly denied, and in private tittered over, their complicity +with the pirates of Grand Isle, and who knew their trading +rendezvous by the sly nickname of "Little Manchac." As Frowenfeld +passed these four men they, too, ceased speaking and looked after +him, three with offensive smiles and one with a stare of +contempt.</p> +<p>Farther on, some Creoles were talking rapidly to an +Américain, in English.</p> +<p>"And why?" one was demanding. "Because money is scarce. Under +other governments we had any quantity!"</p> +<p>"Yes," said the venturesome Américain in retort, "such as +it was; <i>assignats, liberanzas, bons</i>--Claiborne will give us +better money than that when he starts his bank."</p> +<p>"Hah! his bank, yes! John Law once had a bank, too; ask my old +father. What do we want with a bank? Down with banks!" The speaker +ceased; he had not finished, but he saw the apothecary. Frowenfeld +heard a muttered curse, an inarticulate murmur, and then a loud +burst of laughter.</p> +<p>A tall, slender young Creole whom he knew, and who had always +been greatly pleased to exchange salutations, brushed against him +without turning his eyes.</p> +<p>"You know," he was saying to a companion, "everybody in +Louisiana is to be a citizen, except the negroes and mules; that is +the kind of liberty they give us--all eat out of one trough."</p> +<p>"What we want," said a dark, ill-looking, but finely-dressed +man, setting his claret down, "and what we have got to have, +is"--he was speaking in French, but gave the want in +English--"Representesh'n wizout Taxa--" There his eye fell upon +Frowenfeld and followed him with a scowl.</p> +<p>"Mah frang," he said to his table companion, "wass you sink of a +mane w'at hask-a one neegrow to 'ave-a one shair wiz 'im, eh?--in +ze sem room?"</p> +<p>The apothecary found that his fame was far wider and more +general than he had supposed. He turned to go out, bowing as he did +so, to an Américain merchant with whom he had some +acquaintance.</p> +<p>"Sir?" asked the merchant, with severe politeness, "wish to see +me? I thought you--As I was saying, gentlemen, what, after all, +does it sum up?"</p> +<p>A Creole interrupted him with an answer:</p> +<p>"Leetegash'n, Spoleeash'n, Pahtitsh'n, Disintegrhash'n!"</p> +<p>The voice was like Honoré's. Frowenfeld looked; it was +Agamemnon Grandissime.</p> +<p>"I must go to Maspero's," thought the apothecary, and he started +up the rue Chartres. As he turned into the rue St. Louis, he +suddenly found himself one of a crowd standing before a +newly-posted placard, and at a glance saw it to be one of the +inflammatory publications which were a feature of the times, +appearing both daily and nightly on walls and fences.</p> +<p>"One Amerry-can pull' it down, an' Camille Brahmin 'e pas'e it +back," said a boy at Frowenfeld's side.</p> +<p>Exchange Alley was once <i>Passage de la Bourse</i>, and led +down (as it now does to the State House--late St. Louis Hotel) to +an establishment which seems to have served for a long term of +years as a sort of merchants' and auctioneers' coffee-house, with a +minimum of china and a maximum of glass: Maspero's--certainly +Maspero's as far back as 1810, and, we believe, Maspero's the day +the apothecary entered it, March 9, 1804. It was a livelier spot +than the Veau-qui-tête; it was to that what commerce is to +litigation, what standing and quaffing is to sitting and sipping. +Whenever the public mind approached that sad state of public +sentiment in which sanctity signs politicians' memorials and +chivalry breaks into the gun-shops, a good place to feel the thump +of the machinery was in Maspero's.</p> +<p>The first man Frowenfeld saw as he entered was M. Valentine +Grandissime. There was a double semicircle of gazers and listeners +in front of him; he was talking, with much show of unconcern, in +Creole French.</p> +<p>"Policy? I care little about policy." He waved his hand. "I know +my rights--and Louisiana's. We have a right to our opinions. We +have"--with a quiet smile and an upward turn of his extended +palm--"a right to protect them from the attack of interlopers, even +if we have to use gunpowder. I do not propose to abridge the +liberties of even this army of fortune-hunters. <i>Let</i> them +think." He half laughed. "Who cares whether they share our opinions +or not? Let them have their own. I had rather they would. But let +them hold their tongues. Let them remember they are Yankees. Let +them remember they are unbidden guests." All this without the least +warmth.</p> +<p>But the answer came aglow with passion, from one of the +semicircle, whom two or three seemed disposed to hold in check. It +also was in French, but the apothecary was astonished to hear his +own name uttered.</p> +<p>"But this fellow Frowenfeld"--the speaker did not see +Joseph--"has never held his tongue. He has given us good reason +half a dozen times, with his too free speech and his high moral +whine, to hang him with the lamppost rope! And now, when we have +borne and borne and borne and borne with him, and he shows up, all +at once, in all his rottenness, you say let him alone! One would +think you were defending Honoré Grandissime!" The back of +one of the speaker's hands fluttered in the palm of the other.</p> +<p>Valentine smiled.</p> +<p>"Honoré Grandissime? Boy, you do not know what you are +talking about. Not Honoré, ha, ha! A man who, upon his own +avowal, is guilty of affiliating with the Yankees. A man whom we +have good reason to suspect of meditating his family's dishonor and +embarrassment!" Somebody saw the apothecary and laid a cautionary +touch on Valentine's arm, but he brushed it off. "As for Professor +Frowenfeld, he must defend himself."</p> +<p>"Ha-a-a-ah!"--a general cry of derision from the listeners.</p> +<p>"Defend himself!" exclaimed their spokesman; "shall I tell you +again what he is?" In his vehemence, the speaker wagged his chin +and held his clenched fists stiffly toward the floor. "He is--he +is--he is--"</p> +<p>He paused, breathing like a fighting dog. Frowenfeld, large, +white, and immovable, stood close before him.</p> +<p>"Dey 'ad no bizniz led 'im come oud to-day," said a bystander, +edging toward a pillar.</p> +<p>The Creole, a small young man not unknown to us, glared upon the +apothecary; but Frowenfeld was far above his blushing mood, and was +not disconcerted. This exasperated the Creole beyond bound; he made +a sudden, angry change of attitude, and demanded:</p> +<p>"Do you interrup' two gen'lemen in dey conve'sition, you Yankee +clown? Do you igno' dad you 'ave insult me, off-scow'ing?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's first response was a stern gaze. When he spoke, he +said:</p> +<p>"Sir, I am not aware that I have ever offered you the slightest +injury or affront; if you wish to finish your conversation with +this gentleman, I will wait till you are through."</p> +<p>The Creole bowed, as a knight who takes up the gage. He turned +to Valentine.</p> +<p>"Valentine, I was sayin' to you dad diz pusson is a cowa'd and a +sneak; I repead thad! I repead id! I spurn you! Go f'om yeh!"</p> +<p>The apothecary stood like a cliff.</p> +<p>It was too much for Creole forbearance. His adversary, with a +long snarl of oaths, sprang forward and with a great sweep of his +arm slapped the apothecary on the cheek. And then--</p> +<p>What a silence!</p> +<p>Frowenfeld had advanced one step; his opponent stood half turned +away, but with his face toward the face he had just struck and his +eyes glaring up into the eyes of the apothecary. The semicircle was +dissolved, and each man stood in neutral isolation, motionless and +silent. For one instant objects lost all natural proportion, and to +the expectant on-lookers the largest thing in the room was the big, +upraised, white fist of Frowenfeld. But in the next--how was this? +Could it be that that fist had not descended?</p> +<p>The imperturbable Valentine, with one preventing arm laid across +the breast of the expected victim and an open hand held +restrainingly up for truce, stood between the two men and said:</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld--one moment--"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's face was ashen.</p> +<p>"Don't speak, sir!" he exclaimed. "If I attempt to parley I +shall break every bone in his body. Don't speak! I can guess your +explanation--he is drunk. But take him away."</p> +<p>Valentine, as sensible as cool, assisted by the kinsman who had +laid a hand on his arm, shuffled his enraged companion out. +Frowenfeld's still swelling anger was so near getting the better of +him that he unconsciously followed a quick step or two; but as +Valentine looked back and waved him to stop, he again stood +still.</p> +<p>"<i>Professeur</i>--you know,--" said a stranger, "daz Sylvestre +Grandissime."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld rather spoke to himself than answered:</p> +<p>"If I had not known that, I should have--" He checked himself +and left the place.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>While the apothecary was gathering these experiences, the free +spirit of Raoul Innerarity was chafing in the shop like an eagle in +a hen-coop. One moment after another brought him straggling +evidences, now of one sort, now of another, of the "never more +peaceable" state of affairs without. If only some pretext could be +conjured up, plausible or flimsy, no matter; if only some man would +pass with a gun on his shoulder, were it only a blow-gun; or if his +employer were any one but his beloved Frowenfeld, he would clap up +the shutters as quickly as he had already done once to-day, and be +off to the wars. He was just trying to hear imaginary pistol-shots +down toward the Place d'Armes, when the apothecary returned.</p> +<p>"D' you fin' him?"</p> +<p>"I found Sylvestre."</p> +<p>"'E took de lett'?"</p> +<p>"I did not offer it." Frowenfeld, in a few compact sentences, +told his adventure.</p> +<p>Raoul was ablaze with indignation.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', gimmy dat lett'!" He extended his pretty +hand.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld pondered.</p> +<p>"Gimmy 'er!" persisted the artist; "befo' I lose de sight from +dat lett' she goin' to be hanswer by Sylvestre Grandissime, an' 'e +goin' to wrat you one appo-logie! Oh! I goin' mek 'im crah fo' +shem!"</p> +<p>"If I could know you would do only as I--"</p> +<p>"I do it!" cried Raoul, and sprang for his hat; and in the end +Frowenfeld let him have his way.</p> +<p>"I had intended seeing him--" the apothecary said.</p> +<p>"Nevvamine to see; I goin' tell him!" cried Raoul, as he crowded +his hat fiercely down over his curls and plunged out.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> +<h3>TO COME TO THE POINT</h3> +<br> +<p>It was equally a part of Honoré Grandissime's nature and +of his art as a merchant to wear a look of serene leisure. With +this look on his face he reëntered his counting-room after his +morning visit to Frowenfeld's shop. He paused a moment outside the +rail, gave the weak-eyed gentleman who presided there a quiet +glance equivalent to a beckon, and, as that person came near, +communicated two or three items of intelligence or instruction +concerning office details, by which that invaluable diviner of +business meanings understood that he wished to be let alone for an +hour. Then M. Grandissime passed on into his private office, and, +shutting the door behind him, walked briskly to his desk and sat +down.</p> +<p>He dropped his elbows upon a broad paper containing some +recently written, unfinished memoranda that included figures in +column, cast his eyes quite around the apartment, and then covered +his face with his palms--a gesture common enough for a tired man of +business in a moment of seclusion; but just as the face disappeared +in the hands, the look of serene leisure gave place to one of great +mental distress. The paper under his elbows, to the consideration +of which he seemed about to return, was in the handwriting of his +manager, with additions by his own pen. Earlier in the day he had +come to a pause in the making of these additions, and, after one or +two vain efforts to proceed, had laid down his pen, taken his hat, +and gone to see the unlucky apothecary. Now he took up the broken +thread. To come to a decision; that was the task which forced from +him his look of distress. He drew his face slowly through his +palms, set his lips, cast up his eyes, knit his knuckles, and then +opened and struck his palms together, as if to say: "Now, come; let +me make up my mind."</p> +<p>There may be men who take every moral height at a dash; but to +the most of us there must come moments when our wills can but just +rise and walk in their sleep. Those who in such moments wait for +clear views find, when the issue is past, that they were only +yielding to the devil's chloroform.</p> +<p>Honoré Grandissme bent his eyes upon the paper. But he +saw neither its figures nor its words. The interrogation, +"Surrender Fausse Rivière?" appeared to hang between his +eyes and the paper, and when his resolution tried to answer "Yes," +he saw red flags; he heard the auctioneer's drum; he saw his +kinsmen handing house-keys to strangers; he saw the old servants of +the great family standing in the marketplace; he saw kinswomen +pawning their plate; he saw his clerks (Brahmins, Mandarins, +Grandissimes) standing idle and shabby in the arcade of the Cabildo +and on the banquettes of Maspero's and the Veau-qui-tête; he +saw red-eyed young men in the Exchange denouncing a man who, they +said, had, ostensibly for conscience's sake, but really for love, +forced upon the woman he had hoped to marry a fortune filched from +his own kindred. He saw the junto of doctors in Frowenfeld's door +charitably deciding him insane; he saw the more vengeful of his +family seeking him with half-concealed weapons; he saw himself shot +at in the rue Royale, in the rue Toulouse, and in the Place +d'Armes: and, worst of all, missed.</p> +<p>But he wiped his forehead, and the writing on the paper became, +in a measure, visible. He read:</p> +<blockquote>Total mortgages on the lands of all the Grandissimes +$--<br> +Total present value of same, titles at buyers' risk --<br> +Cash, goods, and accounts --<br> +Fausse Rivière Plantation account --</blockquote> +<p>There were other items, but he took up the edge of the paper +mechanically, pushed it slowly away from him, leaned back in his +chair and again laid his hands upon his face.</p> +<p>"Suppose I retain Fausse Rivière," he said to himself, as +if he had not said it many times before.</p> +<p>Then he saw memoranda that were not on any paper before +him--such a mortgage to be met on such a date; so much from Fausse +Rivière Plantation account retained to protect that mortgage +from foreclosure; such another to be met on such a date--so much +more of same account to protect it. He saw Aurora and Clotilde +Nancanou, with anguished faces, offering woman's pleadings to deaf +constables. He saw the remainder of Aurora's plantation account +thrown to the lawyers to keep the question of the Grandissime +titles languishing in the courts. He saw the fortunes of his clan +rallied meanwhile and coming to the rescue, himself and kindred +growing independent of questionable titles, and even Fausse +Rivière Plantation account restored, but Aurora and Clotilde +nowhere to be found. And then he saw the grave, pale face of Joseph +Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>He threw himself forward, drew the paper nervously toward him, +and stared at the figures. He began at the first item and went over +the whole paper, line by line, testing every extension, proving +every addition, noting if possibly any transposition of figures had +been made and overlooked, if something was added that should have +been subtracted, or subtracted that should have been added. It was +like a prisoner trying the bars of his cell.</p> +<p>Was there no way to make things happen differently? Had he not +overlooked some expedient? Was not some financial manoeuvre +possible which might compass both desired ends? He left his chair +and walked up and down, as Joseph at that very moment was doing in +the room where he had left him, came back, looked at the paper, and +again walked up and down. He murmured now and then to himself: +"<i>Self</i>-denial--that is not the hard work. Penniless +myself--<i>that</i> is play," and so on. He turned by and by and +stood looking up at that picture of the man in the cuirass which +Aurora had once noticed. He looked at it, but he did not see it. He +was thinking--"Her rent is due to-morrow. She will never believe I +am not her landlord. She will never go to my half-brother." He +turned once more and mentally beat his breast as he muttered: "Why +do I not decide?"</p> +<p>Somebody touched the doorknob. Honoré stepped forward and +opened it. It was a mortgager.</p> +<p>"<i>Ah! entrez, Monsieur</i>."</p> +<p>He retained the visitor's hand, leading him in and talking +pleasantly in French until both had found chairs. The conversation +continued in that tongue through such pointless commercial gossip +as this:</p> +<p>"So the brig <i>Equinox</i> is aground at the head of the +Passes," said M. Grandissime.</p> +<p>"I have just heard she is off again."</p> +<p>"Aha?"</p> +<p>"Yes; the Fort Plaquemine canoe is just up from below. I +understand John McDonough has bought the entire cargo of the +schooner <i>Freedom</i>."</p> +<p>"No, not all; Blanque et Fils bought some twenty boys and women +out of the lot. Where is she lying?"</p> +<p>"Right at the head of the Basin."</p> +<p>And much more like this; but by and by the mortgager came to the +point with the casual remark:</p> +<p>"The excitement concerning land titles seems to increase rather +than subside."</p> +<p>"They must have <i>something</i> to be excited about, I +suppose," said M. Grandissime, crossing his legs and smiling. It +was tradesman's talk.</p> +<p>"Yes," replied the other; "there seems to be an idea current +to-day that all holders under Spanish titles are to be immediately +dispossessed, without even process of court. I believe a very +slight indiscretion on the part of the Governor-General would +precipitate a riot."</p> +<p>"He will not commit any," said M. Grandissime with a quiet +gravity, changing his manner to that of one who draws upon a +reserve of private information. "There will be no outbreak."</p> +<p>"I suppose not. We do not know, really, that the American +Congress will throw any question upon titles; but still--"</p> +<p>"What are some of the shrewdest Americans among us doing?" asked +M. Grandissime.</p> +<p>"Yes," replied the mortgager, "it is true they are buying these +very titles; but they may be making a mistake?"</p> +<p>Unfortunately for the speaker, he allowed his face an expression +of argumentative shrewdness as he completed this sentence, and M. +Grandissime, the merchant, caught an instantaneous full view of his +motive; he wanted to buy. He was a man whose known speculative +policy was to "go in" in moments of panic.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime was again face to face with the question of the +morning. To commence selling must be to go on selling. This, as a +plan, included restitution to Aurora; but it meant also dissolution +to the Grandissimes, for should their <i>sold</i> titles be +pronounced bad, then the titles of other lands would be bad; many +an asset among M. Grandissime's memoranda would shrink into +nothing, and the meagre proceeds of the Grandissime estates, left +to meet the strain without the aid of Aurora's accumulated fortune, +would founder in a sea of liabilities; while should these titles, +after being parted with, turn out good, his incensed kindred, +shutting their eyes to his memoranda and despising his exhibits, +would see in him only the family traitor, and he would go about the +streets of his town the subject of their implacable denunciation, +the community's obloquy, and Aurora's cold evasion. So much, should +he sell. On the other hand, to decline to sell was to enter upon +that disingenuous scheme of delays which would enable him to avail +himself and his people of that favorable wind and tide of fortune +which the Cession had brought. Thus the estates would be lost, if +lost at all, only when the family could afford to lose them, and +Honoré Grandissime would continue to be Honoré the +Magnificent, the admiration of the city and the idol of his clan. +But Aurora--and Clotilde--would have to eat the crust of poverty, +while their fortunes, even in his hands, must bear all the jeopardy +of the scheme. That was all. Retain Fausse Rivière and its +wealth, and save the Grandissimes; surrender Fausse Rivière, +let the Grandissime estates go, and save the Nancanous. That was +the whole dilemma.</p> +<p>"Let me see," said M. Grandissime. "You have a mortgage on one +of our Golden Coast plantations. Well, to be frank with you, I was +thinking of that when you came in. You know I am partial to prompt +transactions--I thought of offering you either to take up that +mortgage or to sell you the plantation, as you may prefer. I have +ventured to guess that it would suit you to own it."</p> +<p>And the speaker felt within him a secret exultation in the idea +that he had succeeded in throwing the issue off upon a Providence +that could control this mortgager's choice.</p> +<p>"I would prefer to leave that choice with you," said the coy +would-be purchaser; and then the two went coquetting again for +another moment.</p> +<p>"I understand that Nicholas Girod is proposing to erect a +four-story brick building on the corner of Royale and St. Pierre. +Do you think it practicable? Do you think our soil will support +such a structure?"</p> +<p>"Pitot thinks it will. Boré says it is perfectly +feasible."</p> +<p>So they dallied.</p> +<p>"Well," said the mortgager, presently rising, "you will make up +your mind and let me know, will you?"</p> +<p>The chance repetition of those words "make up your mind" touched +Honoré Grandissime like a hot iron. He rose with the +visitor.</p> +<p>"Well, sir, what would you give us for our title in case we +should decide to part with it?"</p> +<p>The two men moved slowly, side by side, toward the door, and in +the half-open doorway, after a little further trifling, the title +was sold.</p> +<p>"Well, good-day," said M. Grandissime. "M. de Brahmin will +arrange the papers for us to-morrow."</p> +<p>He turned back toward his private desk.</p> +<p>"And now," thought he, "I am acting without resolving. No merit; +no strength of will; no clearness of purpose; no emphatic decision; +nothing but a yielding to temptation."</p> +<p>And M. Grandissime spoke truly; but it is only whole men who so +yield--yielding to the temptation to do right.</p> +<p>He passed into the counting-room, to M. De Brahmin, and standing +there talked in an inaudible tone, leaning over the upturned +spectacles of his manager, for nearly an hour. Then, saying he +would go to dinner, he went out. He did not dine at home nor at the +Veau-qui-tête, nor at any of the clubs; so much is known; he +merely disappeared for two or three hours and was not seen again +until late in the afternoon, when two or three Brahmins and +Grandissimes, wandering about in search of him, met him on the +levee near the head of the rue Bienville, and with an exclamation +of wonder and a look of surprise at his dusty shoes, demanded to +know where he had hid himself while they had been ransacking the +town in search of him.</p> +<p>"We want you to tell us what you will do about our titles."</p> +<p>He smiled pleasantly, the picture of serenity, and replied:</p> +<p>"I have not fully made up my mind yet; as soon as I do so I will +let you know."</p> +<p>There was a word or two more exchanged, and then, after a moment +of silence, with a gentle "Eh, bien," and a gesture to which they +were accustomed, he stepped away backward, they resumed their +hurried walk and talk, and he turned into the rue Bienville.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> +<h3>AN INHERITANCE OF WRONG</h3> +<br> +<p>"I tell you," Doctor Keene used to say, "that old woman's a +thinker." His allusion was to Clemence, the <i>marchande des +calas</i>. Her mental activity was evinced not more in the cunning +aptness of her songs than in the droll wisdom of her sayings. Not +the melody only, but the often audacious, epigrammatic philosophy +of her tongue as well, sold her <i>calas</i> and gingercakes.</p> +<p>But in one direction her wisdom proved scant. She presumed too +much on her insignificance. She was a "study," the gossiping circle +at Frowenfeld's used to say; and any observant hearer of her odd +aphorisms could see that she herself had made a life-study of +herself and her conditions; but she little thought that +others--some with wits and some with none--young hare-brained +Grandissimes, Mandarins and the like--were silently, and for her +most unluckily, charging their memories with her knowing speeches; +and that of every one of those speeches she would ultimately have +to give account.</p> +<p>Doctor Keene, in the old days of his health, used to enjoy an +occasional skirmish with her. Once, in the course of chaffering +over the price of <i>calas</i>, he enounced an old current +conviction which is not without holders even to this day; for we +may still hear it said by those who will not be decoyed down from +the mountain fastnesses of the old Southern doctrines, that their +slaves were "the happiest people under the sun." Clemence had made +bold to deny this with argumentative indignation, and was +courteously informed in retort that she had promulgated a falsehood +of magnitude.</p> +<p>"W'y, Mawse Chawlie," she replied, "does you s'pose one po' +nigga kin tell a big lie? No, sah! But w'en de whole people tell +w'at ain' so--if dey know it, aw if dey don' know it--den dat +<i>is</i> a big lie!" And she laughed to contortion.</p> +<p>"What is that you say?" he demanded, with mock ferocity. "You +charge white people with lying?"</p> +<p>"Oh, sakes, Mawse Chawlie, no! De people don't mek up dat ah; de +debble pass it on 'em. Don' you know de debble ah de grett +cyount'-feiteh? Ev'y piece o' money he mek he tek an' put some +debblemen' on de under side, an' one o' his pootiess lies on top; +an' 'e gilt dat lie, and 'e rub dat lie on 'is elbow, an' 'e shine +dat lie, an' 'e put 'is bess licks on dat lie; entel ev'ybody say: +'Oh, how pooty!' An' dey tek it fo' good money, yass--and pass it! +Dey b'lieb it!"</p> +<p>"Oh," said some one at Doctor Keene's side, disposed to quiz, +"you niggers don't know when you are happy."</p> +<p>"Dass so, Mawse--<i>c'est vrai, oui</i>!" she answered quickly: +"we donno no mo'n white folks!"</p> +<p>The laugh was against him.</p> +<p>"Mawse Chawlie," she said again, "w'a's dis I yeh 'bout dat +Eu'ope country? 's dat true de niggas is all free in Eu'ope!"</p> +<p>Doctor Keene replied that something like that was true.</p> +<p>"Well, now, Mawse Chawlie, I gwan t' ass you a riddle. If dat is +<i>so</i>, den fo' w'y I yeh folks bragg'n 'bout de 'stayt o' +s'iety in Eu'ope'?"</p> +<p>The mincing drollery with which she used this fine phrase +brought another peal of laughter. Nobody tried to guess.</p> +<p>"I gwan tell you," said the <i>marchande</i>; "'t is becyaze dey +got a 'fixed wuckin' class.'" She sputtered and giggled with the +general ha, ha. "Oh, ole Clemence kin talk proctah, yass!"</p> +<p>She made a gesture for attention.</p> +<p>"D' y' ebber yeh w'at de cya'ge-hoss say w'en 'e see de +cyaht-hoss tu'n loose in de sem pawstu'e wid he, an' knowed dat +some'ow de cyaht gotteh be haul'? W'y 'e jiz snawt an' kick up 'is +heel'"--she suited the action to the word--"an' tah' roun' de fiel' +an' prance up to de fence an' say: 'Whoopy! shoo! shoo! dis yeh +country gittin' <i>too</i> free!'"</p> +<p>"Oh," she resumed, as soon as she could be heard, "white folks +is werry kine. Dey wants us to b'lieb we happy--dey <i>wants to +b'lieb</i> we is. W'y, you know, dey 'bleeged to b'lieb it--fo' dey +own cyumfut. 'Tis de sem weh wid de preache's; dey buil' we ow own +sep'ate meet'n-houses; dey b'liebs us lak it de bess, an' dey +<i>knows</i> dey lak it de bess."</p> +<p>The laugh at this was mostly her own. It is not a laughable +sight to see the comfortable fractions of Christian communities +everywhere striving, with sincere, pious, well-meant, criminal +benevolence, to make their poor brethren contented with the ditch. +Nor does it become so to see these efforts meet, or seem to meet, +some degree of success. Happily man cannot so place his brother +that his misery will continue unmitigated. You may dwarf a man to +the mere stump of what he ought to be, and yet he will put out +green leaves. "Free from care," we benignly observe of the dwarfed +classes of society; but we forget, or have never thought, what a +crime we commit when we rob men and women of their cares.</p> +<p>To Clemence the order of society was nothing. No upheaval could +reach to the depth to which she was sunk. It is true, she was one +of the population. She had certain affections toward people and +places; but they were not of a consuming sort.</p> +<p>As for us, our feelings, our sentiments, affections, etc., are +fine and keen, delicate and many; what we call refined. Why? +Because we get them as we get our old swords and gems and +laces--from our grandsires, mothers, and all. Refined they +are--after centuries of refining. But the feelings handed down to +Clemence had come through ages of African savagery; through fires +that do not refine, but that blunt and blast and blacken and char; +starvation, gluttony, drunkenness, thirst, drowning, nakedness, +dirt, fetichism, debauchery, slaughter, pestilence and the +rest--she was their heiress; they left her the cinders of human +feelings. She remembered her mother. They had been separated in her +childhood, in Virginia when it was a province. She remembered, with +pride, the price her mother had brought at auction, and remarked, +as an additional interesting item, that she had never seen or heard +of her since. She had had children, assorted colors--had one with +her now, the black boy that brought the basil to Joseph; the others +were here and there, some in the Grandissime households or +field-gangs, some elsewhere within occasional sight, some dead, +some not accounted for. Husbands--like the Samaritan woman's. We +know she was a constant singer and laugher.</p> +<p>And so on that day, when Honoré Grandissime had advised +the Governor-General of Louisiana to be very careful to avoid +demonstration of any sort if he wished to avert a street war in his +little capital, Clemence went up one street and down another, +singing her song and laughing her professional merry laugh. How +could it be otherwise? Let events take any possible turn, how could +it make any difference to Clemence? What could she hope to gain? +What could she fear to lose? She sold some of her goods to Casa +Calvo's Spanish guard and sang them a Spanish song; some to +Claiborne's soldiers and sang them Yankee Doodle with unclean words +of her own inspiration, which evoked true soldiers' laughter; some +to a priest at his window, exchanging with him a pious comment or +two upon the wickedness of the times generally and their +Américain Protestant-poisoned community in particular; and +(after going home to dinner and coming out newly furnished) she +sold some more of her wares to the excited groups of Creoles to +which we have had occasion to allude, and from whom, insensible as +she was to ribaldry, she was glad to escape. The day now drawing to +a close, she turned her steps toward her wonted crouching-place, +the willow avenue on the levee, near the Place d'Armes. But she had +hardly defined this decision clearly in her mind, and had but just +turned out of the rue St. Louis, when her song attracted an ear in +a second-story room under whose window she was passing. As usual, +it was fitted to the passing event:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Apportez moi mo' sabre,<br> +Ba boum, ba boum, boum, boum</i>."</blockquote> +<p>"Run, fetch that girl here," said Dr. Keene to the slave woman +who had just entered his room with a pitcher of water.</p> +<p>"Well, old eavesdropper," he said, as Clemence came, "what is +the scandal to-day?"</p> +<p>Clemence laughed.</p> +<p>"You know, Mawse Chawlie, I dunno noth'n' 'tall 'bout nobody. +I'se a nigga w'at mine my own business."</p> +<p>"Sit down there on that stool, and tell me what is going on +outside."</p> +<p>"I d' no noth'n' 'bout no goin's on; got no time fo' sit down, +me; got sell my cakes. I don't goin' git mix' in wid no white +folks's doin's."</p> +<p>"Hush, you old hypocrite; I will buy all your cakes. Put them +out there on the table."</p> +<p>The invalid, sitting up in bed, drew a purse from behind his +pillow and tossed her a large price. She tittered, courtesied and +received the money.</p> +<p>"Well, well, Mawse Chawlie, 'f you ain' de funni'st gen'leman I +knows, to be sho!"</p> +<p>"Have you seen Joseph Frowenfeld to-day?" he asked.</p> +<p>"He, he, he! W'at I got do wid Mawse Frowenfel'? I goes on de +off side o' sich folks--folks w'at cann' 'have deyself no bette'n +dat--he, he, he! At de same time I did happen, jis chancin' by +accident, to see 'im."</p> +<p>"How is he?"</p> +<p>Dr. Keene made plain by his manner that any sensational account +would receive his instantaneous contempt, and she answered within +bounds.</p> +<p>"Well, now, tellin' the simple trufe, he ain' much hurt."</p> +<p>The doctor turned slowly and cautiously in bed.</p> +<p>"Have you seen Honoré Grandissime?"</p> +<p>"W'y--das funny you ass me dat. I jis now see 'im dis werry +minnit."</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>"Jis gwine into de house wah dat laydy live w'at 'e runned over +dat ah time."</p> +<p>"Now, you old hag," cried the sick man, his weak, husky voice +trembling with passion, "you know you're telling me a lie."</p> +<p>"No, Mawse Chawlie," she protested with a coward's frown, "I +swah I tellin' you de God's trufe!"</p> +<p>"Hand me my clothes off that chair."</p> +<p>"Oh! but, Mawse Chawlie--"</p> +<p>The little doctor cursed her. She did as she was bid, and made +as if to leave the room.</p> +<p>"Don't you go away."</p> +<p>"But Mawse Chawlie, you' undress'--he, he!"</p> +<p>She was really abashed and half frightened.</p> +<p>"I know that; and you have got to help me put my clothes +on."</p> +<p>"You gwan kill yo'se'f, Mawse Chawlie," she said, handling a +garment.</p> +<p>"Hold your black tongue."</p> +<p>She dressed him hastily, and he went down the stairs of his +lodging-house and out into the street. Clemence went in search of +her master.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> +<h3>THE EAGLE VISITS THE DOVES IN THEIR NEST</h3> +<br> +<p>Alphonsina--only living property of Aurora and Clotilde--was +called upon to light a fire in the little parlor. Elsewhere, +although the day was declining, few persons felt such a need; but +in No. 19 rue Bienville there were two chilling influences combined +requiring an artificial offset. One was the ground under the floor, +which was only three inches distant, and permanently saturated with +water; the other was despair.</p> +<p>Before this fire the two ladies sat down together like watchers, +in that silence and vacuity of mind which come after an exhaustive +struggle ending in the recognition of the inevitable; a torpor of +thought, a stupefaction of feeling, a purely negative state of +joylessness sequent to the positive state of anguish. They were now +both hungry, but in want of some present friend acquainted with the +motions of mental distress who could guess this fact and press them +to eat. By their eyes it was plain they had been weeping much; by +the subdued tone, too, of their short and infrequent speeches.</p> +<p>Alphonsina, having made the fire, went out with a bundle. It was +Aurora's last good dress. She was going to try to sell it.</p> +<p>"It ought not to be so hard," began Clotilde, in a quiet manner +of contemplating some one else's difficulty, but paused with the +saying uncompleted, and sighed under her breath.</p> +<p>"But it <i>is</i> so hard," responded Aurora.</p> +<p>"No, it ought not to be so hard--"</p> +<p>"How, not so hard?"</p> +<p>"It is not so hard to live," said Clotilde; "but it is hard to +be ladies. You understand--" she knit her fingers, dropped them +into her lap and turned her eyes toward Aurora, who responded with +the same motions, adding the crossing of her silk-stockinged ankles +before the fire.</p> +<p>"No," said Aurora, with a scintillation of irrepressible +mischief in her eyes.</p> +<p>"After all," pursued Clotilde, "what troubles us is not how to +make a living, but how to get a living without making it."</p> +<p>"Ah! that would be magnificent!" said Aurora, and then added, +more soberly; "but we are compelled to make a living."</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"No-o? Ah! what do you mean with your 'no'?"</p> +<p>"I mean it is just the contrary; we are compelled not to make a +living. Look at me: I can cook, but I must not cook; I am skillful +with the needle, but I must not take in sewing; I could keep +accounts; I could nurse the sick; but I must not. I could be a +confectioner, a milliner, a dressmaker, a vest-maker, a cleaner of +gloves and laces, a dyer, a bird-seller, a mattress-maker, an +upholsterer, a dancing-teacher, a florist--"</p> +<p>"Oh!" softly exclaimed Aurora, in English, "you could be--you +know w'ad?--an egcellen' drug-cl'--ah, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>"Now--"</p> +<p>But the threatened irruption was averted by a look of tender +apology from Aurora, in reply to one of martyrdom from +Clotilde.</p> +<p>"My angel daughter," said Aurora, "if society has decreed that +ladies must be ladies, then that is our first duty; our second is +to live. Do you not see why it is that this practical world does +not permit ladies to make a living? Because if they could, none of +them would ever consent to be married. Ha! women talk about +marrying for love; but society is too sharp to trust them, yet! It +makes it <i>necessary</i> to marry. I will tell you the honest +truth; some days when I get very, very hungry, and we have nothing +but rice--all because we are ladies without male protectors--I +think society could drive even me to marriage!--for your sake, +though, darling; of course, only for your sake!"</p> +<p>"Never!" replied Clotilde; "for my sake, never; for your own +sake if you choose. I should not care. I should be glad to see you +do so if it would make you happy; but never for my sake and never +for hunger's sake; but for love's sake, yes; and God bless thee, +pretty maman."</p> +<p>"Clotilde, dear," said the unconscionable widow, "let me assure +you, once for all,--starvation is preferable. I mean for me, you +understand, simply for me; that is my feeling on the subject."</p> +<p>Clotilde turned her saddened eyes with a steady scrutiny upon +her deceiver, who gazed upward in apparently unconscious reverie, +and sighed softly as she laid her head upon the high chair-back and +stretched out her feet.</p> +<p>"I wish Alphonsina would come back," she said. "Ah!" she added, +hearing a footfall on the step outside the street door, "there she +is."</p> +<p>She arose and drew the bolt. Unseen to her, the person whose +footsteps she had heard stood upon the doorstep with a hand lifted +to knock, but pausing to "makeup his mind." He heard the bolt shoot +back, recognized the nature of the mistake, and, feeling that here +again he was robbed of volition, rapped.</p> +<p>"That is not Alphonsina!"</p> +<p>The two ladies looked at each other and turned pale.</p> +<p>"But you must open it," whispered Clotilde, half rising.</p> +<p>Aurora opened the door, and changed from white to crimson. +Clotilde rose up quickly. The gentleman lifted his hat.</p> +<p>"Madame Nancanou."</p> +<p>"M. Grandissime?"</p> +<p>"Oui, Madame."</p> +<p>For once, Aurora was in an uncontrollable flutter. She +stammered, lost her breath, and even spoke worse French than she +needed to have done.</p> +<p>"Be pl--pleased, sir--to enter. Clotilde, my daughter--Monsieur +Grandissime. P-please be seated, sir. Monsieur Grandissime,"--she +dropped into a chair with an air of vivacity pitiful to behold,--"I +suppose you have come for the rent." She blushed even more +violently than before, and her hand stole upward upon her heart to +stay its violent beating. "Clotilde, dear, I should be glad if you +would put the fire before the screen; it is so much too warm." She +pushed her chair back and shaded her face with her hand. "I think +the warmer is growing weather outside, is it--is it not?"</p> +<p>The struggles of a wounded bird could not have been more +piteous. Monsieur Grandissime sought to speak. Clotilde, too, +nerved by the sight of her mother's embarrassment, came to her +support, and she and the visitor spoke in one breath.</p> +<p>"Maman, if Monsieur--pardon--"</p> +<p>"Madame Nancanou, the--pardon, Mademoiselle--"</p> +<p>"I have presumed to call upon you," resumed M. Grandissime, +addressing himself now to both ladies at once, "to see if I may +enlist you in a purely benevolent undertaking in the interest of +one who has been unfortunate--a common acquaintance--"</p> +<p>"Common acquaint--" interrupted Aurora, with a hostile lighting +of her eyes.</p> +<p>"I believe so--Professor Frowenfeld." M. Grandissme saw Clotilde +start, and in her turn falsely accuse the fire by shading her face: +but it was no time to stop. "Ladies," he continued, "please allow +me, for the sake of the good it may effect, to speak plainly and to +the point."</p> +<p>The ladies expressed acquiescence by settling themselves to +hear.</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld had the extraordinary misfortune this +morning to incur the suspicion of having entered a house for the +purpose of--at least, for a bad design--"</p> +<p>"He is innocent!" came from Clotilde, against her intention; +Aurora covertly put out a hand, and Clotilde clutched it +nervously.</p> +<p>"As, for example, robbery," said the self-recovered Aurora, +ignoring Clotilde's look of protestation.</p> +<p>"Call it so," responded M. Grandissime. "Have you heard at whose +house this was?"</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"It was at the house of Palmyre Philosophe."</p> +<p>"Palmyre Philosophe!" exclaimed Aurora, in low astonishment. +Clotilde let slip, in a tone of indignant incredulity, a soft "Ah!" +Aurora turned, and with some hope that M. Grandissime would not +understand, ventured to say in Spanish, quietly:</p> +<p>"Come, come, this will never do."</p> +<p>And Clotilde replied in the same tongue:</p> +<p>"I know it, but he is innocent."</p> +<p>"Let us understand each other," said their visitor. "There is +not the faintest idea in the mind of one of us that Professor +Frowenfeld is guilty of even an intention of wrong; otherwise I +should not be here. He is a man simply incapable of anything +ignoble."</p> +<p>Clotilde was silent. Aurora answered promptly, with the air of +one not to be excelled in generosity:</p> +<p>"Certainly, he is very incapabl'."</p> +<p>"Still," resumed the visitor, turning especially to Clotilde, +"the known facts are these, according to his own statement: he was +in the house of Palmyre on some legitimate business which, +unhappily, he considers himself on some account bound not to +disclose, and by some mistake of Palmyre's old Congo woman, was set +upon by her and wounded, barely escaping with a whole skull into +the street, an object of public scandal. Laying aside the +consideration of his feelings, his reputation is at stake and +likely to be ruined unless the affair can be explained clearly and +satisfactorily, and at once, by his friends."</p> +<p>"And you undertake--" began Aurora.</p> +<p>"Madame Nancanou," said Honoré Grandissime, leaning +toward her earnestly, "you know--I must beg leave to appeal to your +candor and confidence--you know everything concerning Palmyre that +I know. You know me, and who I am; you know it is not for me to +undertake to confer with Palmyre. I know, too, her old affection +for you; she lives but a little way down this street upon which you +live; there is still daylight enough at your disposal; if you will, +you can go to see her, and get from her a full and complete +exoneration of this young man. She cannot come to you; she is not +fit to leave her room."</p> +<p>"Cannot leave her room?"</p> +<p>"I am, possibly, violating confidence in this disclosure, but it +is unavoidable--you have to know: she is not fully recovered from a +pistol-shot wound received between two and three weeks ago."</p> +<p>"Pistol-shot wound!"</p> +<p>Both ladies started forward with open lips and exclamations of +amazement.</p> +<p>"Received from a third person--not myself and not Professor +Frowenfeld--in a desperate attempt made by her to avenge the wrongs +which she has suffered, as you, Madam, as well as I, are aware, at +the hands of--"</p> +<p>Aurora rose up with a majestic motion for the speaker to +desist.</p> +<p>"If it is to mention the person of whom your allusion reminds +me, that you have honored us with a call this evening, +Monsieur--"</p> +<p>Her eyes were flashing as he had seen them flash in front of the +Place d'Armes.</p> +<p>"I beg you not to suspect me of meanness," he answered, gently, +and with a remonstrative smile. "I have been trying all day, in a +way unnecessary to explain, to be generous."</p> +<p>"I suppose you are incapabl'," said Aurora, following her double +meaning with that combination of mischievous eyes and unsmiling +face of which she was master. She resumed her seat, adding: "It is +generous for you to admit that Palmyre has suffered wrongs."</p> +<p>"It <i>would</i> be," he replied, "to attempt to repair them, +seeing that I am not responsible for them, but this I cannot claim +yet to have done. I have asked of you, Madam, a generous act. I +might ask another of you both jointly. It is to permit me to say +without offence, that there is one man, at least, of the name of +Grandissime who views with regret and mortification the yet deeper +wrongs which you are even now suffering."</p> +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Aurora, inwardly ready for fierce tears, but +with no outward betrayal save a trifle too much grace and an +over-bright smile, "Monsieur is much mistaken; we are quite +comfortable and happy, wanting nothing, eh, Clotilde?--not even our +rights, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>She rose and let Alphonsina in. The bundle was still in the +negress's arms. She passed through the room and disappeared in the +direction of the kitchen.</p> +<p>"Oh! no, sir, not at all," repeated Aurora, as she once more sat +down.</p> +<p>"You ought to want your rights," said M. Grandissime. "You ought +to have them."</p> +<p>"You think so?"</p> +<p>Aurora was really finding it hard to conceal her growing +excitement, and turned, with a faint hope of relief, toward +Clotilde.</p> +<p>Clotilde, looking only at their visitor, but feeling her +mother's glance, with a tremulous and half-choked voice, said +eagerly:</p> +<p>"Then why do you not give them to us?"</p> +<p>"Ah!" interposed Aurora, "we shall get them to-morrow, when the +sheriff comes."</p> +<p>And, thereupon what did Clotilde do but sit bolt upright, with +her hands in her lap, and let the tears roll, tear after tear, down +her cheeks.</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur," said Aurora, smiling still, "those that you see +are really tears. Ha, ha, ha! excuse me, I really have to laugh; +for I just happened to remember our meeting at the masked ball last +September. We had such a pleasant evening and were so much indebted +to you for our enjoyment,--particularly myself,--little thinking, +you know, that you were one of that great family which believes we +ought to have our rights, you know. There are many people who ought +to have their rights. There was Bras-Coupé; indeed, he got +them--found them in the swamp. Maybe Clotilde and I shall find ours +in the street. When we unmasked in the theatre, you know, I did not +know you were my landlord, and you did not know that I could not +pay a few picayunes of rent. But you must excuse those tears; +Clotilde is generally a brave little woman, and would not be so +rude as to weep before a stranger; but she is weak to-day--we are +both weak to-day, from the fact that we have eaten nothing since +early morning, although we have abundance of food--for want of +appetite, you understand. You must sometimes be affected the same +way, having the care of so much wealth <i>of all sorts</i>."</p> +<p>Honoré Grandissime had risen to his feet and was standing +with one hand on the edge of the lofty mantel, his hat in the other +dropped at his side and his eye fixed upon Aurora's beautiful face, +whence her small nervous hand kept dashing aside the tears through +which she defiantly talked and smiled. Clotilde sat with clenched +hands buried in her lap, looking at Aurora and still weeping.</p> +<p>And M. Grandissime was saying to himself:</p> +<p>"If I do this thing now--if I do it here--I do it on an impulse; +I do it under constraint of woman's tears; I do it because I love +this woman; I do it to get out of a corner; I do it in weakness, +not in strength; I do it without having made up my mind whether or +not it is the best thing to do."</p> +<p>And then, without intention, with scarcely more consciousness of +movement than belongs to the undermined tree which settles, roots +and all, into the swollen stream, he turned and moved toward the +door.</p> +<p>Clotilde rose.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Grandissime."</p> +<p>He stopped and looked back.</p> +<p>"We will see Palmyre at once, according to your request."</p> +<p>He turned his eyes toward Aurora.</p> +<p>"Yes," said she, and she buried her face in her handkerchief and +sobbed aloud.</p> +<p>She heard his footstep again; it reached the door; the door +opened--closed; she heard his footstep again; was he gone?</p> +<p>He was gone.</p> +<p>The two women threw themselves into each other's arms and wept. +Presently Clotilde left the room. She came back in a moment from +the rear apartment, with a bonnet and veil in her hands.</p> +<p>"No," said Aurora, rising quickly, "I must do it."</p> +<p>"There is no time to lose," said Clotilde. "It will soon be +dark."</p> +<p>It was hardly a minute before Aurora was ready to start. A kiss, +a sorrowful look of love exchanged, the veil dropped over the +swollen eyes, and Aurora was gone.</p> +<p>A minute passed, hardly more, and--what was this?--the soft +patter of Aurora's knuckles on the door.</p> +<p>"Just here at the corner I saw Palmyre leaving her house and +walking down the rue Royale. We must wait until morn--"</p> +<p>Again a footfall on the doorstep, and the door, which was +standing ajar, was pushed slightly by the force of the masculine +knock which followed.</p> +<p>"Allow me," said the voice of Honoré Grandissime, as +Aurora bowed at the door. "I should have handed you this; +good-day."</p> +<p>She received a missive. It was long, like an official document; +it bore evidence of having been carried for some hours in a +coat-pocket, and was folded in one of those old, troublesome ways +in use before the days of envelopes. Aurora pulled it open.</p> +<p>"It is all figures; light a candle."</p> +<p>The candle was lighted by Clotilde and held over Aurora's +shoulder; they saw a heading and footing more conspicuous than the +rest of the writing.</p> +<p>The heading read:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Aurora and Clotilde Nancanou, owners of Fausse +Rivière<br> +Plantation, in account with Honoré +Grandissime</i>."</blockquote> +<p>The footing read:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Balance at credit, subject to order of Aurora and +Clotilde<br> +Nancanou, $105,000.00</i>."</blockquote> +<p>The date followed:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>March</i> 9, 1804."</blockquote> +<p>and the signature:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>H. Grandissime</i>."</blockquote> +<p>A small piece of torn white paper slipped from the account to +the floor. Clotilde's eye followed it, but Aurora, without +acknowledgement of having seen it, covered it with her foot.</p> +<p>In the morning Aurora awoke first. She drew from under her +pillow this slip of paper. She had not dared look at it until now. +The writing on it had been roughly scratched down with a pencil. It +read:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Not for love of woman, but in the name of justice +and the<br> +fear of God</i>."</blockquote> +<p>"And I was so cruel," she whispered.</p> +<p>Ah! Honoré Grandissime, she was kind to that little +writing! She did not put it back under her pillow; she <i>kept it +warm</i>, Honoré Grandissime, from that time forth.</p> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/gs2382.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<p class="lft"><img src="images/gs2383.jpg" width="60%" alt=""></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> +<h3>BAD FOR CHARLIE KEENE</h3> +<br> +<p>On the same evening of which we have been telling, about the +time that Aurora and Clotilde were dropping their last tear of joy +over the document of restitution, a noticeable figure stood alone +at the corner of the rue du Canal and the rue Chartres. He had +reached there and paused, just as the brighter glare of the set sun +was growing dim above the tops of the cypresses. After walking with +some rapidity of step, he had stopped aimlessly, and laid his hand +with an air of weariness upon a rotting China-tree that leaned over +the ditch at the edge of the unpaved walk.</p> +<p>"Setting in cypress," he murmured. We need not concern ourselves +as to his meaning.</p> +<p>One could think aloud there with impunity. In 1804, Canal street +was the upper boundary of New Orleans. Beyond it, to southward, the +open plain was dotted with country-houses, brick-kilns, clumps of +live-oak and groves of pecan. At the hour mentioned the outlines of +these objects were already darkening. At one or two points the sky +was reflected from marshy ponds. Out to westward rose conspicuously +the old house and willow-copse of Jean Poquelin. Down the empty +street or road, which stretched with arrow-like straightness toward +the northwest, the draining-canal that gave it its name tapered +away between occasional overhanging willows and beside broken ranks +of rotting palisades, its foul, crawling waters blushing, gilding +and purpling under the swiftly waning light, and ending suddenly in +the black shadow of the swamp. The observer of this dismal prospect +leaned heavily on his arm, and cast his glance out along the +beautified corruption of the canal. His eye seemed quickened to +detect the smallest repellant details of the scene; every cypress +stump that stood in, or overhung, the slimy water; every ruined +indigo-vat or blasted tree, every broken thing, every bleached bone +of ox or horse--and they were many--for roods around. As his eye +passed them slowly over and swept back again around the dreary +view, he sighed heavily and said: "Dissolution," and then +again--"Dissolution! order of the day--"</p> +<p>A secret overhearer might have followed, by these occasional +exclamatory utterances, the course of a devouring trouble prowling +up and down through his thoughts, as one's eye tracks the shark by +the occasional cutting of his fin above the water.</p> +<p>He spoke again:</p> +<p>"It is in such moods as this that fools drown themselves."</p> +<p>His speech was French. He straightened up, smote the tree softly +with his palm, and breathed a long, deep sigh--such a sigh, if the +very truth be told, as belongs by right to a lover. And yet his +mind did not dwell on love.</p> +<p>He turned and left the place; but the trouble that was plowing +hither and thither through the deep of his meditations went with +him. As he turned into the rue Chartres it showed itself thus:</p> +<p>"Right; it is but right;" he shook his head slowly--"it is but +right."</p> +<p>In the rue Douane he spoke again:</p> +<p>"Ah! Frowenfeld"--and smiled unpleasantly, with his head +down.</p> +<p>And as he made yet another turn, and took his meditative way +down the city's front, along the blacksmith's shops in the street +afterward called Old Levee, he resumed, in English, and with a +distinctness that made a staggering sailor halt and look after +him:</p> +<p>"There are but two steps to civilization, the first easy, the +second difficult; to construct--to reconstruct--ah! there it is! +the tearing down! The tear'--"</p> +<p>He was still, but repeated the thought by a gesture of distress +turned into a slow stroke of the forehead.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Honoré Grandissime," said a voice just +ahead.</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, bien</i>?"</p> +<p>At the mouth of an alley, in the dim light of the streep lamp, +stood the dark figure of Honoré Grandissime, f.m.c., holding +up the loosely hanging form of a small man, the whole front of +whose clothing was saturated with blood.</p> +<p>"Why, Charlie Keene! Let him down again, quickly--quickly; do +not hold him so!"</p> +<p>"Hands off," came in a ghastly whisper from the shape.</p> +<p>"Oh, Chahlie, my boy--"</p> +<p>"Go and finish your courtship," whispered the doctor.</p> +<p>"Oh Charlie, I have just made it forever impossible!"</p> +<p>"Then help me back to my bed; I don't care to die in the +street."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2> +<h3>MORE REPARATION</h3> +<br> +<p>"That is all," said the fairer Honoré, outside Doctor +Keene's sick-room about ten o'clock at night. He was speaking to +the black son of Clemence, who had been serving as errand-boy for +some hours. He spoke in a low tone just without the half-open door, +folding again a paper which the lad had lately borne to the +apothecary of the rue Royale, and had now brought back with +Joseph's answer written under Honoré's inquiry.</p> +<p>"That is all," said the other Honoré, standing partly +behind the first, as the eyes of his little menial turned upon him +that deprecatory glance of inquiry so common to slave children. The +lad went a little way down the corridor, curled up upon the floor +against the wall, and was soon asleep. The fairer Honoré +handed the darker the slip of paper; it was received and returned +in silence. The question was:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Can you state anything positive concerning the +duel</i>?"</blockquote> +<p>And the reply:</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Positively there will be none. Sylvestre my sworn +friend for<br> +life</i>."</blockquote> +<p>The half-brothers sat down under a dim hanging lamp in the +corridor, and except that every now and then one or the other +stepped noiselessly to the door to look in upon the sleeping sick +man, or in the opposite direction to moderate by a push with the +foot the snoring of Clemence's "boy," they sat the whole night +through in whispered counsel.</p> +<p>The one, at the request of the other, explained how he had come +to be with the little doctor in such extremity.</p> +<p>It seems that Clemence, seeing and understanding the doctor's +imprudence, had sallied out with the resolve to set some person on +his track. We have said that she went in search of her master. Him +she met, and though she could not really count him one of the +doctor's friends, yet, rightly believing in his humanity, she told +him the matter. He set off in what was for him a quick pace in +search of the rash invalid, was misdirected by a too confident +child and had given up the hope of finding him, when a faint sound +of distress just at hand drew him into an alley, where, close down +against a wall, with his face to the earth, lay Doctor Keene. The +f.m.c. had just raised him and borne him out of the alley when +Honoré came up.</p> +<p>"And you say that, when you would have inquired for him at +Frowenfeld's, you saw Palmyre there, standing and talking with +Frowenfeld? Tell me more exactly."</p> +<p>And the other, with that grave and gentle economy of words which +made his speech so unique, recounted what we amplify:</p> +<p>Palmyre had needed no pleading to induce her to exonerate +Joseph. The doctors were present at Frowenfeld's in more than usual +number. There was unusualness, too, in their manner and their talk. +They were not entirely free from the excitement of the day, and as +they talked--with an air of superiority, of Creole inflammability, +and with some contempt--concerning Camille Brahmin's and Charlie +Mandarin's efforts to precipitate a war, they were yet visibly in a +state of expectation. Frowenfeld, they softly said, had in his odd +way been indiscreet among these inflammables at Maspero's just when +he could least afford to be so, and there was no telling what they +might take the notion to do to him before bedtime. All that over +and above the independent, unexplained scandal of the early +morning. So Joseph and his friends this evening, like Aurora and +Clotilde in the morning, were, as we nowadays say of buyers and +sellers, "apart," when suddenly and unannounced, Palmyre presented +herself among them. When the f.m.c. saw her, she had already handed +Joseph his hat and with much sober grace was apologizing for her +slave's mistake. All evidence of her being wounded was concealed. +The extraordinary excitement of the morning had not hurt her, and +she seemed in perfect health. The doctors sat or stood around and +gave rapt attention to her patois, one or two translating it for +Joseph, and he blushing to the hair, but standing erect and +receiving it at second hand with silent bows. The f.m.c. had gazed +on her for a moment, and then forced himself away. He was among the +few who had not heard the morning scandal, and he did not +comprehend the evening scene. He now asked Honoré concerning +it, and quietly showed great relief when it was explained.</p> +<p>Then Honoré, breaking a silence, called the attention of +the f.m.c. to the fact that the latter had two tenants at Number 19 +rue Bienville. Honoré became the narrator now and told all, +finally stating that the die was cast--restitution made.</p> +<p>And then the darker Honoré made a proposition to the +other, which, it is little to say, was startling. They discussed it +for hours.</p> +<p>"So just a condition," said the merchant, raising his whisper so +much that the rentier laid a hand in his elbow,--"such mere +justice," he said, more softly, "ought to be an easy condition. God +knows"--he lifted his glance reverently--"my very right to exist +comes after yours. You are the elder."</p> +<p>The solemn man offered no disclaimer.</p> +<p>What could the proposition be which involved so grave an issue, +and to which M. Grandissime's final answer was "I will do it"?</p> +<p>It was that Honoré f.m.c. should become a member of the +mercantile house of H. Grandissime, enlisting in its capital all +his wealth. And the one condition was that the new style should be +<i>Grandissime Brothers</i>.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2> +<h3>THE PIQUE-EN-TERRE LOSES ONE OF HER CREW</h3> +<br> +<p>Ask the average resident of New Orleans if his town is on an +island, and he will tell you no. He will also wonder how any one +could have got that notion,--so completely has Orleans Island, +whose name at the beginning of the present century was in +everybody's mouth, been forgotten. It was once a question of +national policy, a point of difference between Republican and +Federalist, whether the United States ought to buy this little +strip of semi-submerged land, or whether it would not be more +righteous to steal it. The Kentuckians kept the question at a red +heat by threatening to become an empire by themselves if one course +or the other was not taken; but when the First Consul offered to +sell all Louisiana, our commissioners were quite robbed of breath. +They had approached to ask a hair from the elephant's tail, and +were offered the elephant.</p> +<p>For Orleans Island--island it certainly was until General +Jackson closed Bayou Manchac--is a narrow, irregular, flat tract of +forest, swamp, city, prairie and sea-marsh, lying east and west, +with the Mississippi, trending southeastward, for its southern +boundary, and for its northern, a parallel and contiguous chain of +alternate lakes and bayous, opening into the river through Bayou +Manchac, and into the Gulf through the passes of the Malheureuse +Islands. On the narrowest part of it stands New Orleans. Turning +and looking back over the rear of the town, one may easily see from +her steeples Lake Pontchartrain glistening away to the northern +horizon, and in his fancy extend the picture to right and left till +Pontchartrain is linked in the west by Pass Manchac to Lake +Maurepas, and in the east by the Rigolets and Chef Menteur to Lake +Borgne.</p> +<p>An oddity of the Mississippi Delta is the habit the little +streams have of running away from the big ones. The river makes its +own bed and its own banks, and continuing season after season, +through ages of alternate overflow and subsidence, to elevate those +banks, creates a ridge which thus becomes a natural elevated +aqueduct. Other slightly elevated ridges mark the present or former +courses of minor outlets, by which the waters of the Mississippi +have found the sea. Between these ridges lie the cypress swamps, +through whose profound shades the clear, dark, deep bayous creep +noiselessly away into the tall grasses of the shaking prairies. The +original New Orleans was built on the Mississippi ridge, with one +of these forest-and-water-covered basins stretching back behind her +to westward and northward, closed in by Metairie Ridge and Lake +Pontchartrain. Local engineers preserve the tradition that the +Bayou Sauvage once had its rise, so to speak, in Toulouse street. +Though depleted by the city's present drainage system and most +likely poisoned by it as well, its waters still move seaward in a +course almost due easterly, and empty into Chef Menteur, one of the +watery threads of a tangled skein of "passes" between the lakes and +the open Gulf. Three-quarters of a century ago this Bayou Sauvage +(or Gentilly--corruption of Chantilly) was a navigable stream of +wild and sombre beauty.</p> +<p>On a certain morning in August, 1804, and consequently some five +months after the events last mentioned, there emerged from the +darkness of Bayou Sauvage into the prairie-bordered waters of Chef +Menteur, while the morning star was still luminous in the sky above +and in the water below, and only the practised eye could detect the +first glimmer of day, a small, stanch, single-masted, broad and +very light-draught boat, whose innocent character, primarily +indicated in its coat of many colors,--the hull being yellow below +the water line and white above, with tasteful stripings of blue and +red,--was further accentuated by the peaceful name of +<i>Pique-en-terre</i> (the Sandpiper).</p> +<p>She seemed, too, as she entered the Chef Menteur, as if she +would have liked to turn southward; but the wind did not permit +this, and in a moment more the water was rippling after her swift +rudder, as she glided away in the direction of Pointe Aux Herbes. +But when she had left behind her the mouth of the passage, she +changed her course and, leaving the Pointe on her left, bore down +toward Petites Coquilles, obviously bent upon passing through the +Rigolets.</p> +<p>We know not how to describe the joyousness of the effect when at +length one leaves behind him the shadow and gloom of the swamp, and +there bursts upon his sight the widespread, flower-decked, +bird-haunted prairies of Lake Catharine. The inside and outside of +a prison scarcely furnish a greater contrast; and on this fair +August morning the contrast was at its strongest. The day broke +across a glad expanse of cool and fragrant green, silver-laced with +a network of crisp salt pools and passes, lakes, bayous and +lagoons, that gave a good smell, the inspiring odor of interclasped +sea and shore, and both beautified and perfumed the happy earth, +laid bare to the rising sun. Waving marshes of wild oats, drooping +like sated youth from too much pleasure; watery acres hid under +crisp-growing greenth starred with pond-lilies and rippled by +water-fowl; broad stretches of high grass, with thousands of +ecstatic wings palpitating above them; hundreds of thousands of +white and pink mallows clapping their hands in voiceless rapture, +and that amazon queen of the wild flowers, the morning-glory, +stretching her myriad lines, lifting up the trumpet and waving her +colors, white, azure and pink, with lacings of spider's web, heavy +with pearls and diamonds--the gifts of the summer night. The crew +of the <i>Pique-en-terre</i> saw all these and felt them; for, +whatever they may have been or failed to be, they were men whose +heartstrings responded to the touches of nature. One alone of their +company, and he the one who should have felt them most, showed +insensibility, sighed laughingly and then laughed sighingly, in the +face of his fellows and of all this beauty, and profanely confessed +that his heart's desire was to get back to his wife. He had been +absent from her now for nine hours!</p> +<p>But the sun is getting high; Petites Coquilles has been passed +and left astern, the eastern end of Las Conchas is on the +after-larboard-quarter, the briny waters of Lake Borgne flash far +and wide their dazzling white and blue, and, as the little boat +issues from the deep channel of the Rigolets, the white-armed waves +catch her and toss her like a merry babe. A triumph for the +helmsman--he it is who sighs, at intervals of tiresome frequency, +for his wife. He had, from the very starting-place in the upper +waters of Bayou Sauvage, declared in favor of the Rigolets as--wind +and tide considered--the most practicable of all the passes. Now +that they were out, he forgot for a moment the self-amusing plaint +of conjugal separation to flaunt his triumph. Would any one +hereafter dispute with him on the subject of Louisiana sea-coast +navigation? He knew every pass and piece of water like A, B, C, and +could tell, faster, much faster than he could repeat the +multiplication table (upon which he was a little slow and +doubtful), the amount of water in each at ebb tide--Pass Jean or +Petit Pass, Unknown Pass, Petit Rigolet, Chef Menteur,--</p> +<p>Out on the far southern horizon, in the Gulf--the Gulf of +Mexico--there appears a speck of white. It is known to those on +board the <i>Pique-en-terre</i>, the moment it is descried, as the +canvas of a large schooner. The opinion, first expressed by the +youthful husband, who still reclines with the tiller held firmly +under his arm, and then by another member of the company who sits +on the centreboard-well, is unanimously adopted, that she is making +for the Rigolets, will pass Petites Coquilles by eleven o'clock, +and will tie up at the little port of St. Jean, on the bayou of the +same name, before sundown, if the wind holds anywise as it is.</p> +<p>On the other hand, the master of the distant schooner shuts his +glass, and says to the single passenger whom he has aboard that the +little sail just visible toward the Rigolets is a sloop with a +half-deck, well filled with men, in all probability a pleasure +party bound to the Chandeleurs on a fishing and gunning excursion, +and passes into comments on the superior skill of landsmen over +seamen in the handling of small sailing craft.</p> +<p>By and by the two vessels near each other. They approach within +hailing distance, and are announcing each to each their identity, +when the young man at the tiller jerks himself to a squatting +posture, and, from under a broad-brimmed and slouched straw hat, +cries to the schooner's one passenger:</p> +<p>"Hello, Challie Keene."</p> +<p>And the passenger more quietly answers back:</p> +<p>"Hello, Raoul, is that you?"</p> +<p>M. Innerarity replied, with a profane parenthesis, that it was +he.</p> +<p>"You kin hask Sylvestre!" he concluded.</p> +<p>The doctor's eye passed around a semicircle of some eight men, +the most of whom were quite young, but one or two of whom were +gray, sitting with their arms thrown out upon the wash-board, in +the dark négligé of amateur fishermen and with that +exultant look of expectant deviltry in their handsome faces which +characterizes the Creole with his collar off.</p> +<p>The mettlesome little doctor felt the odds against him in the +exchange of greetings.</p> +<p>"Ola, Dawctah!"</p> +<p>"<i>Hé</i>, Doctah, <i>que-ce qui t'après +fé?</i>"</p> +<p>"<i>Ho, ho, compère Noyo!</i>"</p> +<p>"<i>Comment va</i>, Docta?"</p> +<p>A light peppering of profanity accompanied each salute.</p> +<p>The doctor put on defensively a smile of superiority to the +juniors and of courtesy to the others, and responsively spoke their +names:</p> +<p>"'Polyte--Sylvestre--Achille--Émile--ah! Agamemnon."</p> +<p>The Doctor and Agamemnon raised their hats.</p> +<p>As Agamemnon was about to speak, a general expostulatory outcry +drowned his voice. The <i>Pique-en-terre</i> was going about close +abreast of the schooner, and angry questions and orders were flying +at Raoul's head like a volley of eggs.</p> +<p>"Messieurs," said Raoul, partially rising but still stooping +over the tiller, and taking his hat off his bright curls with mock +courtesy, "I am going back to New Orleans. I would not give +<i>that</i> for all the fish in the sea; I want to see my wife. I +am going back to New Orleans to see my wife--and to congratulate +the city upon your absence." Incredulity, expostulation, reproach, +taunt, malediction--he smiled unmoved upon them all.</p> +<p>"Messieurs, I <i>must</i> go and see my wife."</p> +<p>Amid redoubled outcries he gave the helm to Camille Brahmin, and +fighting his way with his pretty feet against half-real efforts to +throw him overboard, clambered forward to the mast, whence a moment +later, with the help of the schooner-master's hand, he reached the +deck of the larger vessel. The <i>Pique-en-terre</i> turned, and +with a little flutter spread her smooth wing and skimmed away.</p> +<p>"Doctah Keene, look yeh!" M. Innerarity held up a hand whose +third finger wore the conventional ring of the Creole bridegroom. +"W'at you got to say to dat?"</p> +<p>The little doctor felt a faintness run through his veins, and a +thrill of anger follow it. The poor man could not imagine a love +affair that did not include Clotilde Nancanou.</p> +<p>"Whom have you married?"</p> +<p>"De pritties' gal in de citty."</p> +<p>The questioner controlled himself.</p> +<p>"M-hum," he responded, with a contraction of the eyes.</p> +<p>Raoul waited an instant for some kindlier comment, and finding +the hope vain, suddenly assumed a look of delighted admiration.</p> +<p>"Hi, yi, yi! Doctah, 'ow you har lookingue fine."</p> +<p>The true look of the doctor was that he had not much longer to +live. A smile of bitter humor passed over his face, and he looked +for a near seat, saying:</p> +<p>"How's Frowenfeld?"</p> +<p>Raoul struck an ecstatic attitude and stretched forth his hand +as if the doctor could not fail to grasp it. The invalid's heart +sank like lead.</p> +<p>"Frowenfeld has got her," he thought.</p> +<p>"Well?" said he with a frown of impatience and restraint; and +Raoul cried:</p> +<p>"I sole my pigshoe!"</p> +<p>The doctor could not help but laugh.</p> +<p>"Shades of the masters!"</p> +<p>"No; 'Louizyanna rif-using to hantre de h-Union.'"</p> +<p>The doctor stood corrected.</p> +<p>The two walked across the deck, following the shadow of the +swinging sail. The doctor lay down in a low-swung hammock, and +Raoul sat upon the deck <i>à la Turque</i>.</p> +<p>"Come, come, Raoul, tell me, what is the news?"</p> +<p>"News? Oh, I donno. You 'eard concernin' the dool?"</p> +<p>"You don't mean to say--"</p> +<p>"Yesseh!"</p> +<p>"Agricola and Sylvestre?"</p> +<p>"W'at de dev'! No! Burr an' 'Ammiltong; in Noo-Juzzy-las-June. +Collonnel Burr, 'e--"</p> +<p>"Oh, fudge! yes. How is Frowenfeld?"</p> +<p>"'E's well. Guess 'ow much I sole my pigshoe."</p> +<p>"Well, how much?"</p> +<p>"Two 'ondred fifty." He laid himself out at length, his elbow on +the deck, his head in his hand. "I believe I'm sorry I sole +'er."</p> +<p>"I don't wonder. How's Honoré? Tell me what has happened. +Remember, I've been away five months."</p> +<p>"No; I am verrie glad dat I sole 'er. What? Ha! I should think +so! If it have not had been fo' dat I would not be married to-day. +You think I would get married on dat sal'rie w'at Proffis-or +Frowenfel' was payin' me? Twenty-five dolla' de mont'? Docta Keene, +no gen'leman h-ought to git married if 'e 'ave not anny'ow fifty +dolla' de mont'! If I wasn' a h-artiz I wouldn' git married; I gie +you my word!"</p> +<p>"Yes," said the little doctor, "you are right. Now tell me the +news."</p> +<p>"Well, dat Cong-ress gone an' make--"</p> +<p>"Raoul, stop. I know that Congress has divided the province into +two territories; I know you Creoles think all your liberties are +lost; I know the people are in a great stew because they are not +allowed to elect their own officers and legislatures, and that in +Opelousas and Attakapas they are as wild as their cattle about +it--"</p> +<p>"We 'ad two big mitting' about it," interrupted Raoul; "my +bro'r-in-law speak at both of them!"</p> +<p>"Who?"</p> +<p>"Chahlie Mandarin."</p> +<p>"Glad to hear it," said Doctor Keene,--which was the truth. +"Besides that, I know Laussat has gone to Martinique; that the +Américains have a newspaper, and that cotton is two-bits a +pound. Now what I want to know is, how are my friends? What has +Honoré done? What has Frowenfeld done? And Palmyre,--and +Agricole? They hustled me away from here as if I had been caught +trying to cut my throat. Tell me everything."</p> +<p>And Raoul sank the artist and bridegroom in the historian, and +told him.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2> +<h3>THE NEWS</h3> +<br> +<p>"My cousin Honoré,--well, you kin jus' say 'e bitray' 'is +'ole fam'ly."</p> +<p>"How so?" asked Doctor Keene, with a handkerchief over his face +to shield his eyes from the sun.</p> +<p>"Well,--ce't'nly 'e did! Di'n' 'e gave dat money to Aurora De +Grapion?--one 'undred five t'ousan' dolla'? Jis' as if to say, +'Yeh's de money my h-uncle stole from you' 'usban'.' Hah! w'en I +will swear on a stack of Bible' as 'igh as yo' head, dat Agricole +win dat 'abitation fair!--If I see it? No, sir; I don't 'ave to see +it! I'll swear to it! Hah!"</p> +<p>"And have she and her daughter actually got the money?"</p> +<p>"She--an'--heh--daughtah--ac--shilly--got-'at-money-sir! W'at? +Dey livin' in de rue Royale in mag-<i>niff</i>ycen' style on top de +drug-sto' of Proffis-or Frowenfel'."</p> +<p>"But how, over Frowenfeld's, when Frowenfeld's is a +one-story--"</p> +<p>"My dear frien'! Proffis-or Frowenfel' is <i>moove!</i> You +rickleck dat big new t'ree-story buildin' w'at jus' finished in de +rue Royale, a lill mo' farther up town from his old shop? Well, we +open dare <i>a big sto'!</i> An' listen! You think Honoré +di'n' bitrayed' 'is family? Madame Nancanou an' heh daughtah livin' +upstair an' rissy-ving de finess soci'ty in de Province!--an' +<i>me?</i>--downstair' meckin' pill! You call dat justice?"</p> +<p>But Doctor Keene, without waiting for this question, had asked +one:</p> +<p>"Does Frowenfeld board with them?"</p> +<p>"Psh-sh-sh! Board! Dey woon board de Marquis of Casa Calvo! I +don't b'lieve dey would board Honoré Grandissime! All de +king' an' queen' in de worl' couldn' board dare! No, sir!--'Owever, +you know, I think dey are splendid ladies. Me an' my wife, we know +them well. An' Honoré--I think my cousin Honoré's a +splendid gen'leman, too." After a moment's pause he resumed, with a +happy sigh, "Well, I don' care, I'm married. A man w'at's married, +'e don' care.</p> +<p>"But I di'n' t'ink Honoré could ever do lak dat odder +t'ing."</p> +<p>"Do he and Joe Frowenfeld visit there?"</p> +<p>"Doctah Keene," demanded Raoul, ignoring the question, "I hask +you now, plain, don' you find dat mighty disgressful to do dat way, +lak Honoré?"</p> +<p>"What way?"</p> +<p>"W'at? You dunno? You don' yeh 'ow 'e gone partner' wid a +nigga?"</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>Doctor Keene drew the handkerchief off his face and half lifted +his feeble head.</p> +<p>"Yesseh! 'e gone partner' wid dat quadroon w'at call 'imself +Honoré Grandissime, seh!"</p> +<p>The doctor dropped his head again and laid the handkerchief back +on his face.</p> +<p>"What do the family say to that?"</p> +<p>"But w'at <i>can</i> dey say? It save dem from ruin! At de sem +time, me, I think it is a disgress. Not dat he h-use de money, but +it is dat name w'at 'e give de h-establishmen'--Grandissime +Frères! H-only for 'is money we would 'ave catch' dat +quadroon gen'leman an' put some tar and fedder. Grandissime +Frères! Agricole don' spik to my cousin Honoré no +mo'. But I t'ink dass wrong. W'at you t'ink, Doctah?"</p> +<p>That evening, at candle-light, Raoul got the right arm of his +slender, laughing wife about his neck; but Doctor Keene tarried all +night in suburb St. Jean. He hardly felt the moral courage to face +the results of the last five months. Let us understand them better +ourselves.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2> +<h3>AN INDIGNANT FAMILY AND A SMASHED SHOP</h3> +<br> +<p>It was indeed a fierce storm that had passed over the head of +Honoré Grandissime. Taken up and carried by it, as it seemed +to him, without volition, he had felt himself thrown here and +there, wrenched, torn, gasping for moral breath, speaking the right +word as if in delirium, doing the right deed as if by helpless +instinct, and seeing himself in every case, at every turn, tricked +by circumstance out of every vestige of merit. So it seemed to him. +The long contemplated restitution was accomplished. On the morning +when Aurora and Clotilde had expected to be turned shelterless into +the open air, they had called upon him in his private office and +presented the account of which he had put them in possession the +evening before. He had honored it on the spot. To the two ladies +who felt their own hearts stirred almost to tears of gratitude, he +was--as he sat before them calm, unmoved, handling keen-edged facts +with the easy rapidity of one accustomed to use them, smiling +courteously and collectedly, parrying their expressions of +appreciation--to them, we say, at least to one of them, he was "the +prince of gentlemen." But, at the same time, there was within him, +unseen, a surge of emotions, leaping, lashing, whirling, yet ever +hurrying onward along the hidden, rugged bed of his honest +intention.</p> +<p>The other restitution, which even twenty-four hours earlier +might have seemed a pure self-sacrifice, became a self-rescue. The +f.m.c. was the elder brother. A remark of Honoré made the +night they watched in the corridor by Doctor Keene's door, about +the younger's "right to exist," was but the echo of a conversation +they had once had together in Europe. There they had practised a +familiarity of intercourse which Louisiana would not have endured, +and once, when speaking upon the subject of their common +fatherhood, the f.m.c., prone to melancholy speech, had said:</p> +<p>"You are the lawful son of Numa Grandissime; I had no right to +be born."</p> +<p>But Honoré quickly answered:</p> +<p>"By the laws of men, it may be; but by the law of God's justice, +you are the lawful son, and it is I who should not have been +born."</p> +<p>But, returned to Louisiana, accepting with the amiable, +old-fashioned philosophy of conservatism the sins of the community, +he had forgotten the unchampioned rights of his passive +half-brother. Contact with Frowenfeld had robbed him of his +pleasant mental drowsiness, and the oft-encountered apparition of +the dark sharer of his name had become a slow-stepping, silent +embodiment of reproach. The turn of events had brought him face to +face with the problem of restitution, and he had solved it. But +where had he come out? He had come out the beneficiary of this +restitution, extricated from bankruptcy by an agreement which gave +the f.m.c. only a public recognition of kinship which had always +been his due. Bitter cup of humiliation!</p> +<p>Such was the stress within. Then there was the storm without. +The Grandissimes were in a high state of excitement. The news had +reached them all that Honoré had met the question of titles +by selling one of their largest estates. It was received with +wincing frowns, indrawn breath, and lifted feet, but without +protest, and presently with a smile of returning confidence.</p> +<p>"Honoré knew; Honoré was informed; they had all +authorized Honoré; and Honoré, though he might have +his odd ways and notions, picked up during that unfortunate stay +abroad, might safely be trusted to stand by the interests of his +people."</p> +<p>After the first shock some of them even raised a laugh:</p> +<p>"Ha, ha, ha! Honoré would show those Yankees!"</p> +<p>They went to his counting-room and elsewhere, in search of him, +to smite their hands into the hands of their far-seeing young +champion. But, as we have seen, they did not find him; none dreamed +of looking for him in an enemy's camp (19 Bienville) or on the +lonely suburban commons, talking to himself in the ghostly +twilight; and the next morning, while Aurora and Clotilde were +seated before him in his private office, looking first at the face +and then at the back of two mighty drafts of equal amount on +Philadelphia, the cry of treason flew forth to these astounded +Grandissimes, followed by the word that the sacred fire was gone +out in the Grandissime temple (counting-room), that Delilahs in +duplicate were carrying off the holy treasures, and that the +uncircumcised and unclean--even an f.m.c.--was about to be inducted +into the Grandissime priesthood.</p> +<p>Aurora and Clotilde were still there, when the various members +of the family began to arrive and display their outlines in +impatient shadow-play upon the glass door of the private office; +now one, and now another, dallied with the doorknob and by and by +obtruded their lifted hats and urgent, anxious faces half into the +apartment; but Honoré would only glance toward them, and +with a smile equally courteous, authoritative and fleeting, +say:</p> +<p>"Good-morning, Camille" (or Charlie--or Agamemnon, as the case +might be); "I will see you later; let me trouble you to close the +door."</p> +<p>To add yet another strain, the two ladies, like frightened, +rescued children, would cling to their deliverer. They wished him +to become the custodian and investor of their wealth. Ah, woman! +who is a tempter like thee? But Honoré said no, and showed +them the danger of such a course.</p> +<p>"Suppose I should die suddenly. You might have trouble with my +executors."</p> +<p>The two beauties assented pensively; but in Aurora's bosom a +great throb secretly responded that as for her, in that case, she +should have no use for money--in a nunnery.</p> +<p>"Would not Monsieur at least consent to be their financial +adviser?"</p> +<p>He hemmed, commenced a sentence twice, and finally said:</p> +<p>"You will need an agent; some one to take full charge of your +affairs; some person on whose sagacity and integrity you can place +the fullest dependence."</p> +<p>"Who, for instance?" asked Aurora.</p> +<p>"I should say, without hesitation, Professor Frowenfeld, the +apothecary. You know his trouble of yesterday is quite cleared up. +You had not heard? Yes. He is not what we call an enterprising man, +but--so much the better. Take him all in all, I would choose him +above all others; if you--"</p> +<p>Aurora interrupted him. There was an ill-concealed wildness in +her eye and a slight tremor in her voice, as she spoke, which she +had not expected to betray. The quick, though quiet eye of +Honoré Grandissime saw it, and it thrilled him through.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime, I take the risk; I wish you to take care of +my money."</p> +<p>"But, Maman," said Clotilde, turning with a timid look to her +mother, "If Monsieur Grandissime would rather not--"</p> +<p>Aurora, feeling alarmed at what she had said, rose up. Clotilde +and Honoré did the same, and he said:</p> +<p>"With Professor Frowenfeld in charge of your affairs, I shall +feel them not entirely removed from my care also. We are very good +friends."</p> +<p>Clotilde looked at her mother. The three exchanged glances. The +ladies signified their assent and turned to go, but M. Grandissime +stopped them.</p> +<p>"By your leave, I will send for him. If you will be seated +again--"</p> +<p>They thanked him and resumed their seats; he excused himself, +passed into the counting-room, and sent a messenger for the +apothecary.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime's meeting with his kinsmen was a stormy one. +Aurora and Clotilde heard the strife begin, increase, subside, rise +again and decrease. They heard men stride heavily to and fro, they +heard hands smite together, palms fall upon tables and fists upon +desks, heard half-understood statement and unintelligible +counter-statement and derisive laughter; and, in the midst of all, +like the voice of a man who rules himself, the clear-noted, +unimpassioned speech of Honoré, sounding so loftily +beautiful in the ear of Aurora that when Clotilde looked at her, +sitting motionless with her rapt eyes lifted up, those eyes came +down to her own with a sparkle of enthusiasm, and she softly +said:</p> +<p>"It sounds like St. Gabriel!" and then blushed.</p> +<p>Clotilde answered with a happy, meaning look, which intensified +the blush, and then leaning affectionately forward and holding the +maman's eyes with her own, she said:</p> +<p>"You have my consent."</p> +<p>"Saucy!" said Aurora. "Wait till I get my own."</p> +<p>Some of his kinsmen Honoré pacified; some he silenced. He +invited all to withdraw their lands and moneys from his charge, and +some accepted the invitation. They spurned his parting advice to +sell, and the policy they then adopted, and never afterward +modified, was that "all or nothing" attitude which, as years rolled +by, bled them to penury in those famous +cupping-leeching-and-bleeding establishments, the courts of +Louisiana. You may see their grandchildren, to-day, anywhere within +the angle of the old rues Esplanade and Rampart, holding up their +heads in unspeakable poverty, their nobility kept green by +unflinching self-respect, and their poetic and pathetic pride +revelling in ancestral, perennial rebellion against common +sense.</p> +<p>"That is Agricola," whispered Aurora, with lifted head and eyes +dilated and askance, as one deep-chested voice roared above all +others.</p> +<p>Agricola stormed.</p> +<p>"Uncle," Aurora by and by heard Honoré say, "shall I +leave my own counting-room?"</p> +<p>At that moment Joseph Frowenfeld entered, pausing with one hand +on the outer rail. No one noticed him but Honoré, who was +watching for him, and who, by a silent motion, directed him into +the private office.</p> +<p>"H-whe shake its dust from our feet!" said Agricola, gathering +some young retainers by a sweep of his glance and going out down +the stair in the arched way, unmoved by the fragrance of warm +bread. On the banquette he harangued his followers.</p> +<p>He said that in such times as these every lover of liberty +should go armed; that the age of trickery had come; that by +trickery Louisianians had been sold, like cattle, to a nation of +parvenues, to be dragged before juries for asserting the human +right of free trade or ridding the earth of sneaks in the pay of +the government; that laws, so-called, had been forged into +thumbscrews, and a Congress which had bound itself to give them all +the rights of American citizens--sorry boon!--was preparing to slip +their birthright acres from under their feet, and leave them +hanging, a bait to the vultures of the Américain +immigration. Yes; the age of trickery! Its apostles, he said, were +even then at work among their fellow-citizens, warping, distorting, +blasting, corrupting, poisoning the noble, unsuspecting, confiding +Creole mind. For months the devilish work had been allowed, by a +patient, peace-loving people, to go on. But shall it go on forever? +(Cries of "No!" "No!") The smell of white blood comes on the south +breeze. Dessalines and Christophe had recommenced their hellish +work. Virginia, too, trembles for the safety of her fair mothers +and daughters. We know not what is being plotted in the canebrakes +of Louisiana. But we know that in the face of these things the +prelates of trickery are sitting in Washington allowing throats to +go unthrottled that talked tenderly about the "negro slave;" we +know worse: we know that mixed blood has asked for equal rights +from a son of the Louisiana noblesse, and that those sacred rights +have been treacherously, pusillanimously surrendered into its +possession. Why did we not rise yesterday, when the public heart +was stirred? The forbearance of this people would be absurd if it +were not saintly. But the time has, come when Louisiana must +protect herself! If there is one here who will not strike for his +lands, his rights and the purity of his race, let him speak! (Cries +of "We will rise now!" "Give us a leader!" "Lead the way!")</p> +<p>"Kinsmen, friends," continued Agricola, "meet me at nightfall +before the house of this too-long-spared mulatto. Come armed. Bring +a few feet of stout rope. By morning the gentlemen of color will +know their places better than they do to-day; h-whe shall +understand each other! H-whe shall set the negrophiles to +meditating."</p> +<p>He waved them away.</p> +<p>With a huzza the accumulated crowd moved off. Chance carried +them up the rue Royale; they sang a song; they came to +Frowenfeld's. It was an Américain establishment; that was +against it. It was a gossiping place of Américain evening +loungers; that was against it. It was a sorcerer's den--(we are on +an ascending scale); its proprietor had refused employment to some +there present, had refused credit to others, was an impudent +condemner of the most approved Creole sins, had been beaten over +the head only the day before; all these were against it. But, worse +still, the building was owned by the f.m.c., and unluckiest of all, +Raoul stood in the door and some of his kinsmen in the crowd +stopped to have a word with him. The crowd stopped. A nameless +fellow in the throng--he was still singing--said: "Here's the +place," and dropped two bricks through the glass of the +show-window. Raoul, with a cry of retaliative rage, drew and lifted +a pistol; but a kinsman jerked it from him and three others quickly +pinioned him and bore him off struggling, pleased to get him away +unhurt. In ten minutes, Frowenfeld's was a broken-windowed, +open-doored house, full of unrecognizable rubbish that had escaped +the torch only through a chance rumor that the Governor's police +were coming, and the consequent stampede of the mob.</p> +<p>Joseph was sitting in M. Grandissime's private office, in +council with him and the ladies, and Aurora was just saying:</p> +<p>"Well, anny'ow, 'Sieur Frowenfel', ad laz you consen'!" and +gathering her veil from her lap, when Raoul burst in, all sweat and +rage.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenfel', we ruin'! Ow pharmacie knock all in pieces! +My pigshoe is los'!"</p> +<p>He dropped into a chair and burst into tears.</p> +<p>Shall we never learn to withhold our tears until we are sure of +our trouble? Raoul little knew the joy in store for him. 'Polyte, +it transpired the next day, had rushed in after the first volley of +missiles, and while others were gleefully making off with jars of +asafoetida and decanters of distilled water, lifted in his arms and +bore away unharmed "Louisiana" firmly refusing to the last to enter +the Union. It may not be premature to add that about four weeks +later Honoré Grandissime, upon Raoul's announcement that he +was "betrothed," purchased this painting and presented it to a club +of <i>natural connoisseurs</i>.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX</h2> +<h3>OVER THE NEW STORE</h3> +<br> +<p>The accident of the ladies Nancanou making their new home over +Frowenfeld's drug-store occurred in the following rather amusing +way. It chanced that the building was about completed at the time +that the apothecary's stock in trade was destroyed; Frowenfeld +leased the lower floor. Honoré Grandissime f.m.c. was the +owner. He being concealed from his enemies, Joseph treated with +that person's inadequately remunerated employé. In those +days, as still in the old French Quarter, it was not uncommon for +persons, even of wealth, to make their homes over stores, and +buildings were constructed with a view to their partition in this +way. Hence, in Chartres and Decatur streets, to-day--and in the +cross-streets between--so many store-buildings with balconies, +dormer windows, and sometimes even belvideres. This new building +caught the eye and fancy of Aurora and Clotilde. The apartments for +the store were entirely isolated. Through a large +<i>porte-cochère</i>, opening upon the banquette immediately +beside and abreast of the store-front, one entered a high, covered +carriage-way with a tessellated pavement and green plastered walls, +and reached,--just where this way (corridor, the Creoles always +called it) opened into a sunny court surrounded with narrow +parterres,--a broad stairway leading to a hall over the "corridor" +and to the drawing-rooms over the store. They liked it! Aurora +would find out at once what sort of an establishment was likely to +be opened below, and if that proved unexceptionable she would lease +the upper part without more ado.</p> +<p>Next day she said:</p> +<p>"Clotilde, thou beautiful, I have signed the lease!"</p> +<p>"Then the store below is to be occupied by a--what?"</p> +<p>"Guess!"</p> +<p>"Ah!"</p> +<p>"Guess a pharmacien!"</p> +<p>Clotilde's lips parted, she was going to smile, when her thought +changed and she blushed offendedly.</p> +<p>"Not--"</p> +<p>"'Sieur Frowenf--ah, ha, ha, ha!--<i>ha, ha, ha</i>!"</p> +<p>Clotilde burst into tears.</p> +<p>Still they moved in--it was written in the bond; and so did the +apothecary; and probably two sensible young lovers never before nor +since behaved with such abject fear of each other--for a time. +Later, and after much oft-repeated good advice given to each +separately and to both together, Honoré Grandissime +persuaded them that Clotilde could make excellent use of a portion +of her means by reenforcing Frowenfeld's very slender stock and +well filling his rather empty-looking store, and so they signed +regular articles of copartnership, blushing frightfully.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld became a visitor, Honoré not; once +Honoré had seen the ladies' moneys satisfactorily invested, +he kept aloof. It is pleasant here to remark that neither Aurora +nor Clotilde made any waste of their sudden acquisitions; they +furnished their rooms with much beauty at moderate cost, and their +<i>salon</i> with artistic, not extravagant, elegance, and, for the +sake of greater propriety, employed a decayed lady as housekeeper; +but, being discreet in all other directions, they agreed upon one +bold outlay--a volante.</p> +<p>Almost any afternoon you might have seen this vehicle on the +Terre aux Boeuf, or Bayou, or Tchoupitoulas Road; and because of +the brilliant beauty of its occupants it became known from all +other volantes as the "meteor."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld's visits were not infrequent; he insisted on +Clotdlde's knowing just what was being done with her money. Without +indulging ourselves in the pleasure of contemplating his continued +mental unfolding, we may say that his growth became more rapid in +this season of universal expansion; love had entered into his still +compacted soul like a cupid into a rose, and was crowding it wide +open. However, as yet, it had not made him brave. Aurora used to +slip out of the drawing-room, and in some secluded nook of the hall +throw up her clasped hands and go through all the motions of +screaming merriment.</p> +<p>"The little fool!"--it was of her own daughter she whispered +this complimentary remark--"the little fool is afraid of the +fish!"</p> +<p>"You!" she said to Clotilde, one evening after Joseph had gone, +"you call yourself a Creole girl!"</p> +<p>But she expected too much. Nothing so terrorizes a blushing girl +as a blushing man. And then--though they did sometimes +digress--Clotilde and her partner met to talk "business" in a +purely literal sense.</p> +<p>Aurora, after a time, had taken her money into her own +keeping.</p> +<p>"You mighd gid robb' ag'in, you know, 'Sieur Frowenfel'," she +said.</p> +<p>But when he mentioned Clotilde's fortune as subject to the same +contingency, Aurora replied:</p> +<p>"Ah! bud Clotilde mighd gid robb'!"</p> +<p>But for all the exuberance of Aurora's spirits, there was a +cloud in her sky. Indeed, we know it is only when clouds are in the +sky that we get the rosiest tints; and so it was with Aurora. One +night, when she had heard the wicket in the +<i>porte-cochère</i> shut behind three evening callers, one +of whom she had rejected a week before, another of whom she +expected to dispose of similarly, and the last of whom was Joseph +Frowenfeld, she began such a merry raillery at Clotilde and such a +hilarious ridicule of the "Professor" that Clotilde would have wept +again had not Aurora, all at once, in the midst of a laugh, dropped +her face in her hands and run from the room in tears. It is one of +the penalties we pay for being joyous, that nobody thinks us +capable of care or the victim of trouble until, in some moment of +extraordinary expansion, our bubble of gayety bursts. Aurora had +been crying of nights. Even that same night, Clotilde awoke, opened +her eyes and beheld her mother risen from the pillow and sitting +upright in the bed beside her; the moon, shining brightly through +the mosquito-bar revealed with distinctness her head slightly +drooped, her face again in her hands and the dark folds of her hair +falling about her shoulders, half-concealing the richly embroidered +bosom of her snowy gown, and coiling in continuous abundance about +her waist and on the slight summer covering of the bed. Before her +on the sheet lay a white paper. Clotilde did not try to decipher +the writing on it; she knew, at sight, the slip that had fallen +from the statement of account on the evening of the ninth of March. +Aurora withdrew her hands from her face--Clotilde shut her eyes; +she heard Aurora put the paper in her bosom.</p> +<p>"Clotilde," she said, very softly.</p> +<p>"Maman," the daughter replied, opening her eyes, reached up her +arms and drew the dear head down.</p> +<p>"Clotilde, once upon a time I woke this way, and, while you were +asleep, left the bed and made a vow to Monsieur Danny. Oh! it was a +sin! but I cannot do those things now; I have been frightened ever +since. I shall never do so any more. I shall never commit another +sin as long as I live!"</p> +<p>Their lips met fervently.</p> +<p>"My sweet sweet," whispered Clotilde, "you looked so beautiful +sitting up with the moonlight all around you!"</p> +<p>"Clotilde, my beautiful daughter," said Aurora, pushing her +bedmate from her and pretending to repress a smile, "I tell you +now, because you don't know, and it is my duty as your mother to +tell you--the meanest wickedness a woman can do in all this bad, +bad world is to look ugly in bed!"</p> +<p>Clotilde answered nothing, and Aurora dropped her outstretched +arms, turned away with an involuntary, tremulous sigh, and after +two or three hours of patient wakefulness, fell asleep.</p> +<p>But at daybreak next morning, he that wrote the paper had not +closed his eyes.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L</h2> +<h3>A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE</h3> +<br> +<p>There was always some flutter among Frowenfeld's employés +when he was asked for, and this time it was the more pronounced +because he was sought by a housemaid from the upper floor. It was +hard for these two or three young Ariels to keep their Creole feet +to the ground when it was presently revealed to their sharp ears +that the "prof-fis-or" was requested to come upstairs.</p> +<p>The new store was an extremely neat, bright, and well-ordered +establishment; yet to ascend into the drawing-rooms seemed to the +apothecary like going from the hold of one of those smart old +packet-ships of his day into the cabin. Aurora came forward, with +the slippers of a Cinderella twinkling at the edge of her robe. It +seemed unfit that the floor under them should not be clouds.</p> +<p>"Proffis-or Frowenfel', good-day! Teg a cha'." She laughed. It +was the pure joy of existence. "You's well? You lookin' verrie +well! Halways bizzie? You fine dad agriz wid you' healt', 'Sieur +Frowenfel'? Yes? Ha, ha, ha!" She suddenly leaned toward him across +the arm of her chair, with an earnest face. "'Sieur Frowenfel', +Palmyre wand see you. You don' wan' come ad 'er 'ouse, eh?--an' you +don' wan' her to come ad yo' bureau. You know, 'Sieur Frowenfel', +she drez the hair of Clotilde an' mieself. So w'en she tell me dad, +I juz say, 'Palmyre, I will sen' for Proffis-or Frowenfel' to come +yeh; but I don' thing 'e comin'.' You know, I din' wan' you to 'ave +dad troub'; but Clotilde--ha, ha, ha! Clotilde is sudge a +foolish--she nevva thing of dad troub' to you--she say she thing +you was too kine-'arted to call dad troub'--ha, ha, ha! So anny'ow +we sen' for you, eh!"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld said he was glad they had done so, whereupon Aurora +rose lightly, saying:</p> +<p>"I go an' sen' her." She started away, but turned back to add: +"You know, 'Sieur Frowenfel', she say she cann' truz nobody bud +y'u." She ended with a low, melodious laugh, bending her joyous +eyes upon the apothecary with her head dropped to one side in a way +to move a heart of flint.</p> +<p>She turned and passed through a door, and by the same way +Palmyre entered. The philosophe came forward noiselessly and with a +subdued expression, different from any Frowenfeld had ever before +seen. At the first sight of her a thrill of disrelish ran through +him of which he was instantly ashamed; as she came nearer he met +her with a deferential bow and the silent tender of a chair. She +sat down, and, after a moment's pause, handed him a sealed +letter.</p> +<p>He turned it over twice, recognized the handwriting, felt the +disrelish return, and said:</p> +<p>"This is addressed to yourself."</p> +<p>She bowed.</p> +<p>"Do you know who wrote it?" he asked.</p> +<p>She bowed again.</p> +<p>"<i>Oui, Miché</i>."</p> +<p>"You wish me to open it? I cannot read French."</p> +<p>She seemed to have some explanation to offer, but could not +command the necessary English; however, with the aid of +Frowenfeld's limited guessing powers, she made him understand that +the bearer of the letter to her had brought word from the writer +that it was written in English purposely that M. Frowenfeld--the +only person he was willing should see it--might read it. Frowenfeld +broke the seal and ran his eye over the writing, but remained +silent.</p> +<p>The woman stirred, as if to say "Well?" But he hesitated.</p> +<p>"Palmyre," he suddenly said, with a slight, dissuasive smile, +"it would be a profanation for me to read this."</p> +<p>She bowed to signify that she caught his meaning, then raised +her elbows with an expression of dubiety, and said:</p> +<p>"'E hask you--"</p> +<p>"Yes," murmured the apothecary. He shook his head as if to +protest to himself, and read in a low but audible voice:</p> +<blockquote>"Star of my soul, I approach to die. It is not for me +possible to live without Palmyre. Long time have I so done, but +now, cut off from to see thee, by imprisonment, as it may be +called, love is starving to death. Oh, have pity on the faithful +heart which, since ten years, change not, but forget heaven and +earth for you. Now in the peril of the life, hidden away, that +absence from the sight of you make his seclusion the more worse +than death. Halas! I pine! Not other ten years of despair can I +commence. Accept this love. If so I will live for you, but if to +the contraire, I must die for you. Is there anything at all what I +will not give or even do if Palmyre will be my wife? Ah, no, far +otherwise, there is nothing!" ...</blockquote> +<p>Frowenfeld looked over the top of the letter. Palmyre sat with +her eyes cast down, slowly shaking her head. He returned his glance +to the page, coloring somewhat with annoyance at being made a +proposing medium.</p> +<p>"The English is very faulty here," he said, without looking up. +"He mentions Bras-Coupé." Palmyre started and turned toward +him; but he went on without lifting his eyes. "He speaks of your +old pride and affection toward him as one who with your aid might +have been a leader and deliverer of his people." Frowenfeld looked +up. "Do you under--"</p> +<p>"<i>Allez, Miché</i>" said she, leaning forward, her +great eyes fixed on the apothecary and her face full of distress. +"<i>Mo comprend bien</i>."</p> +<p>"He asks you to let him be to you in the place of +Bras-Coupé."</p> +<p>The eyes of the philosophe, probably for the first time since +the death of the giant, lost their pride. They gazed upon +Frowenfeld almost with piteousness; but she compressed her lips and +again slowly shook her head.</p> +<p>"You see," said Frowenfeld, suddenly feeling a new interest, "he +understands their wants. He knows their wrongs. He is acquainted +with laws and men. He could speak for them. It would not be +insurrection--it would be advocacy. He would give his time, his +pen, his speech, his means, to get them justice--to get them their +rights."</p> +<p>She hushed the over-zealous advocate with a sad and bitter smile +and essayed to speak, studied as if for English words, and, +suddenly abandoning that attempt, said, with ill-concealed scorn +and in the Creole patois:</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2424.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2424.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2424.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"The tall figure of Palmyre rose slowly and silently from her +chair, her eyes lifted up and her lips moving noiselessly. She +seemed to have lost all knowledge of place or of human +presence".</b></p> +<br> +<p>"What is all that? What I want is vengeance!"</p> +<p>"I will finish reading," said Frowenfeld, quickly, not caring to +understand the passionate speech.</p> +<blockquote>"Ah, Palmyre! Palmyre! What you love and hope to love +you because his heart keep itself free, he is loving +another!"</blockquote> +<p><i>"Qui ci ça, Miché?"</i></p> +<p>Frowenfeld was loth to repeat. She had understood, as her face +showed; but she dared not believe. He made it shorter:</p> +<p>"He means that Honoré Grandissime loves another +woman."</p> +<p>"'Tis a lie!" she exclaimed, a better command of English coming +with the momentary loss of restraint.</p> +<p>The apothecary thought a moment and then decided to speak.</p> +<p>"I do not think so," he quietly said.</p> +<p>"'Ow you know dat?"</p> +<p>She, too, spoke quietly, but under a fearful strain. She had +thrown herself forward, but, as she spoke, forced herself back into +her seat.</p> +<p>"He told me so himself."</p> +<p>The tall figure of Palmyre rose slowly and silently from her +chair, her eyes lifted up and her lips moving noiselessly. She +seemed to have lost all knowledge of place or of human presence. +She walked down the drawing-room quite to its curtained windows and +there stopped, her face turned away and her hand laid with a +visible tension on the back of a chair. She remained so long that +Frowenfeld had begun to think of leaving her so, when she turned +and came back. Her form was erect, her step firm and nerved, her +lips set together and her hands dropped easily at her side; but +when she came close up before the apothecary she was trembling. For +a moment she seemed speechless, and then, while her eyes gleamed +with passion, she said, in a cold, clear tone, and in her native +patois:</p> +<p>"Very well: if I cannot love I can have my revenge." She took +the letter from him and bowed her thanks, still adding, in the same +tongue, "There is now no longer anything to prevent."</p> +<p>The apothecary understood the dark speech. She meant that, with +no hope of Honoré's love, there was no restraining motive to +withhold her from wreaking what vengeance she could upon Agricola. +But he saw the folly of a debate.</p> +<p>"That is all I can do?" asked he.</p> +<p>"<i>Oui, merci, Miché</i>" she said; then she added, in +perfect English, "but that is not all <i>I</i> can do," and +then--laughed.</p> +<p>The apothecary had already turned to go, and the laugh was a low +one; but it chilled his blood. He was glad to get back to his +employments.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI</h2> +<h3>BUSINESS CHANGES</h3> +<br> +<p>We have now recorded some of the events which characterized the +five months during which Doctor Keene had been vainly seeking to +recover his health in the West Indies.</p> +<p>"Is Mr. Frowenfeld in?" he asked, walking very slowly, and with +a cane, into the new drug-store on the morning of his return to the +city.</p> +<p>"If Professo' Frowenfel' 's in?" replied a young man in +shirt-sleeves, speaking rapidly, slapping a paper package which he +had just tied, and sliding it smartly down the counter. "No, +seh."</p> +<p>A quick step behind the doctor caused him to turn; Raoul was +just entering, with a bright look of business on his face, taking +his coat off as he came.</p> +<p>"Docta Keene! <i>Teck</i> a chair. 'Ow you like de noo sto'? +See? Fo' counters! T'ree clerk'! De whole interieure paint undre +mie h-own direction! If dat is not a beautiful! eh? Look at dat +sign."</p> +<p>He pointed to some lettering in harmonious colors near the +ceiling at the farther end of the house. The doctor looked and +read:</p> +<blockquote>MANDARIN, AG'T, APOTHECARY.</blockquote> +<p>"Why not Frowenfeld?" he asked.</p> +<p>Raoul shrugged.</p> +<p>"'Tis better dis way."</p> +<p>That was his explanation.</p> +<p>"Not the De Brahmin Mandarin who was Honoré's +manager?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Honoré was n' able to kip 'im no long-er. +Honoré is n' so rich lak befo'."</p> +<p>"And Mandarin is really in charge here?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes. Profess-or Frowenfel' all de time at de ole corner, +w'ere 'e <i>con</i>tinue to keep 'is private room and h-use de ole +shop fo' ware'ouse. 'E h-only come yeh w'en Mandarin cann' git +'long widout 'im."</p> +<p>"What does he do there? <i>He's</i> not rich."</p> +<p>Raoul bent down toward the doctor's chair and whispered the dark +secret:</p> +<p>"Studyin'!"</p> +<p>Doctor Keene went out.</p> +<p>Everything seemed changed to the returned wanderer. Poor man! +The changes were very slight save in their altered relation to him. +To one broken in health, and still more to one with a broken heart, +old scenes fall upon the sight in broken rays. A sort of vague +alienation seemed to the little doctor to come like a film over the +long-familiar vistas of the town where he had once walked in the +vigor and complacency of strength and distinction. This was not the +same New Orleans. The people he met on the street were more or less +familiar to his memory, but many that should have recognized him +failed to do so, and others were made to notice him rather by his +cough than by his face. Some did not know he had been away. It made +him cross.</p> +<p>He had walked slowly down beyond the old Frowenfeld corner and +had just crossed the street to avoid the dust of a building which +was being torn down to make place for a new one, when he saw coming +toward him, unconscious of his proximity, Joseph Frowenfeld.</p> +<p>"Doctor Keene!" said Frowenfeld, with almost the enthusiasm of +Raoul.</p> +<p>The doctor was very much quieter.</p> +<p>"Hello, Joe."</p> +<p>They went back to the new drug-store, sat down in a pleasant +little rear corner enclosed by a railing and curtains, and +talked.</p> +<p>"And did the trip prove of no advantage to you?"</p> +<p>"You see. But never mind me; tell me about Honoré; how +does that row with his family progress?"</p> +<p>"It still continues; the most of his people hold ideas of +justice and prerogative that run parallel with family and party +lines, lines of caste, of custom and the like they have imparted +their bad feeling against him to the community at large; very easy +to do just now, for the election for President of the States comes +on in the fall, and though we in Louisiana have little or nothing +to do with it, the people are feverish."</p> +<p>"The country's chill-day," said Doctor Keene; "dumb chill, hot +fever."</p> +<p>"The excitement is intense," said Frowenfeld. "It seems we are +not to be granted suffrage yet; but the Creoles have a way of +casting votes in their mind. For example, they have voted +Honoré Grandissime a traitor; they have voted me an +encumbrance; I hear one of them casting that vote now."</p> +<p>Some one near the front of the store was talking excitedly with +Raoul:</p> +<p>"An'--an'--an' w'at are the consequence? The consequence are +that we smash his shop for him an' 'e 'ave to make a noo-start with +a Creole partner's money an' put 'is sto' in charge of Creole'! If +I know he is yo' frien'? Yesseh! Valuable citizen? An' w'at we care +for valuable citizen? Let him be valuable if he want; it keep' him +from gettin' the neck broke; but--he mus'-tek-kyeh--'ow--he--talk'! +He-mus'-tek-kyeh 'ow he stir the 'ot blood of Louisyanna!"</p> +<p>"He is perfectly right," said the little doctor, in his husky +undertone; "neither you nor Honoré is a bit sound, and I +shouldn't wonder if they would hang you both, yet; and as for that +darkey who has had the impudence to try to make a commercial white +gentleman of himself--it may not be I that ought to say it, but--he +will get his deserts--sure!"</p> +<p>"There are a great many Americans that think as you do," said +Frowenfeld, quietly.</p> +<p>"But," said the little doctor, "what did that fellow mean by +your Creole partner? Mandarin is in charge of your store, but he is +not your partner, is he? Have you one?"</p> +<p>"A silent one," said the apothecary</p> +<p>"So silent as to be none of my business?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Well, who is it, then?"</p> +<p>"It is Mademoiselle Nancanou."</p> +<p>"Your partner in business?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Well, Joseph Frowenfeld,--"</p> +<p>The insinuation conveyed in the doctor's manner was very trying, +but Joseph merely reddened.</p> +<p>"Purely business, I suppose," presently said the doctor, with a +ghastly ironical smile. "Does the arrangem'--" his utterance failed +him--"does it end there?"</p> +<p>"It ends there."</p> +<p>"And you don't see that it ought either not to have begun, or +else ought not to have ended there?"</p> +<p>Frowenfeld blushed angrily. The doctor asked:</p> +<p>"And who takes care of Aurora's money?"</p> +<p>"Herself."</p> +<p>"Exclusively?"</p> +<p>They both smiled more good-naturedly.</p> +<p>"Exclusively."</p> +<p>"She's a coon;" and the little doctor rose up and crawled away, +ostensibly to see another friend, but really to drag himself into +his bedchamber and lock himself in. The next day--the yellow fever +was bad again--he resumed the practice of his profession.</p> +<p>"'Twill be a sort of decent suicide without the element of +pusillanimity," he thought to himself.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII</h2> +<h3>LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING</h3> +<br> +<p>When Honoré Grandissime heard that Doctor Keene had +returned to the city in a very feeble state of health, he rose at +once from the desk where he was sitting and went to see him; but it +was on that morning when the doctor was sitting and talking with +Joseph, and Honoré found his chamber door locked. Doctor +Keene called twice, within the following two days, upon +Honoré at his counting-room; but on both occasions +Honoré's chair was empty. So it was several days before they +met. But one hot morning in the latter part of August,--the August +days were hotter before the cypress forest was cut down between the +city and the lake than they are now,--as Doctor Keene stood in the +middle of his room breathing distressedly after a sad fit of +coughing, and looking toward one of his windows whose closed sash +he longed to see opened, Honoré knocked at the door.</p> +<p>"Well, come in!" said the fretful invalid. "Why, +Honoré,--well, it serves you right for stopping to knock. +Sit down."</p> +<p>Each took a hasty, scrutinizing glance at the other; and, after +a pause, Doctor Keene said:</p> +<p>"Honoré, you are pretty badly stove."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime smiled.</p> +<p>"Do you think so, Doctor? I will be more complimentary to you; +you might look more sick."</p> +<p>"Oh, I have resumed my trade," replied Doctor Keene.</p> +<p>"So I have heard; but, Charlie, that is all in favor of the +people who want a skilful and advanced physician and do not mind +killing him; I should advise you not to do it."</p> +<p>"You mean" (the incorrigible little doctor smiled cynically) "if +I should ask your advice. I am going to get well, +Honoré."</p> +<p>His visitor shrugged.</p> +<p>"So much the better. I do confess I am tempted to make use of +you in your official capacity, right now. Do you feel strong enough +to go with me in your gig a little way?"</p> +<p>"A professional call?"</p> +<p>"Yes, and a difficult case; also a confidential one."</p> +<p>"Ah! confidential!" said the little man, in his painful, husky +irony. "You want to get me into the sort of scrape I got our +'professor' into, eh?"</p> +<p>"Possibly a worse one," replied the amiable Creole.</p> +<p>"And I must be mum, eh?"</p> +<p>"I would prefer."</p> +<p>"Shall I need any instruments? No?"--with a shade of +disappointment on his face.</p> +<p>He pulled a bell-rope and ordered his gig to the street +door.</p> +<p>"How are affairs about town?" he asked, as he made some slight +preparation for the street.</p> +<p>"Excitement continues. Just as I came along, a private +difficulty between a Creole and an Américain drew instantly +half the street together to take sides strictly according to +belongings and without asking a question. My-de'-seh, we are +having, as Frowenfeld says, a war of human acids and alkalies."</p> +<p>They descended and drove away. At the first corner the lad who +drove turned, by Honoré's direction, toward the rue +Dauphine, entered it, passed down it to the rue Dumaine, turned +into this toward the river again and entered the rue Condé. +The route was circuitous. They stopped at the carriage-door of a +large brick house. The wicket was opened by Clemence. They alighted +without driving in.</p> +<p>"Hey, old witch," said the doctor, with mock severity; "not hung +yet?"</p> +<p>The houses of any pretension to comfortable spaciousness in the +closely built parts of the town were all of the one, general, +Spanish-American plan. Honoré led the doctor through the +cool, high, tessellated carriage-hall, on one side of which were +the drawing-rooms, closed and darkened. They turned at the bottom, +ascended a broad, iron-railed staircase to the floor above, and +halted before the open half of a glazed double door with a clumsy +iron latch. It was the entrance to two spacious chambers, which +were thrown into one by folded doors.</p> +<p>The doctor made a low, indrawn whistle and raised his +eyebrows--the rooms were so sumptuously furnished; immovable +largeness and heaviness, lofty sobriety, abundance of finely +wrought brass mounting, motionless richness of upholstery, much +silent twinkle of pendulous crystal, a soft semi-obscurity--such +were the characteristics. The long windows of the farther apartment +could be seen to open over the street, and the air from behind, +coming in over a green mass of fig-trees that stood in the paved +court below, moved through the rooms, making them cool and +cavernous.</p> +<p>"You don't call this a hiding place, do you--in his own +bedchamber?" the doctor whispered.</p> +<p>"It is necessary, now, only to keep out of sight," softly +answered Honoré. "Agricole and some others ransacked this +house one night last March--the day I announced the new firm; but +of course, then, he was not here."</p> +<p>They entered, and the figure of Honoré Grandissime, +f.m.c., came into view in the centre of the farther room, reclining +in an attitude of extreme languor on a low couch, whither he had +come from the high bed near by, as the impression of his form among +its pillows showed. He turned upon the two visitors his slow, +melancholy eyes, and, without an attempt to rise or speak, +indicated, by a feeble motion of the hand, an invitation to be +seated.</p> +<p>"Good morning," said Doctor Keene, selecting a light chair and +drawing it close to the side of the couch.</p> +<p>The patient before him was emaciated. The limp and bloodless +hand, which had not responded to the doctor's friendly pressure but +sank idly back upon the edge of the couch, was cool and moist, and +its nails slightly blue.</p> +<p>"Lie still," said the doctor, reassuringly, as the rentier began +to lift the one knee and slippered foot which was drawn up on the +couch and the hand which hung out of sight across a large, +linen-covered cushion.</p> +<p>By pleasant talk that seemed all chat, the physician soon +acquainted himself with the case before him. It was a very plain +one. By and by he rubbed his face and red curls and suddenly +said:</p> +<p>"You will not take my prescription."</p> +<p>The f.m.c. did not say yes or no.</p> +<p>"Still,"--the doctor turned sideways in his chair, as was his +wont, and, as he spoke, allowed the corners of his mouth to take +that little satirical downward pull which his friends disliked, +"I'll do my duty. I'll give Honoré the details as to diet; +no physic; but my prescription to you is, Get up and get out. Never +mind the risk of rough handling; they can but kill you, and you +will die anyhow if you stay here." He rose. "I'll send you a +chalybeate tonic; or--I will leave it at Frowenfeld's to-morrow +morning, and you can call there and get it. It will give you an +object for going out."</p> +<br> +<a name="gs2436.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/gs2436.jpg"><img src= +"images/gs2436.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"They turned in a direction opposite to the entrance and took +chairs in a cool nook of the paved court, at a small table where +the hospitality of Clemence had placed glasses of +lemonade".</b></p> +<br> +<p>The two visitors presently said adieu and retired together. +Reaching the bottom of the stairs in the carriage "corridor," they +turned in a direction opposite to the entrance and took chairs in a +cool nook of the paved court, at a small table where the +hospitality of Clemence had placed glasses of lemonade.</p> +<p>"No," said the doctor, as they sat down, "there is, as yet, no +incurable organic derangement; a little heart trouble easily +removed; still your--your patient--"</p> +<p>"My half-brother," said Honoré.</p> +<p>"Your patient," said Doctor Keene, "is an emphatic 'yes' to the +question the girls sometimes ask us doctors--Does love ever kill?' +It will kill him <i>soon</i>, if you do not get him to rouse up. +There is absolutely nothing the matter with him but his unrequited +love."</p> +<p>"Fortunately, the most of us," said Honoré, with +something of the doctor's smile, "do not love hard enough to be +killed by it."</p> +<p>"Very few." The doctor paused, and his blue eyes, distended in +reverie, gazed upon the glass which he was slowly turning around +with his attenuated fingers as it stood on the board, while he +added: "However, one <i>may</i> love as hopelessly and harder than +that man upstairs, and yet not die."</p> +<p>"There is comfort in that--to those who must live," said +Honoré with gentle gravity.</p> +<p>"Yes," said the other, still toying with his glass.</p> +<p>He slowly lifted his glance, and the eyes of the two men met and +remained steadfastly fixed each upon each.</p> +<p>"You've got it bad," said Doctor Keene, mechanically.</p> +<p>"And you?" retorted the Creole.</p> +<p>"It isn't going to kill me."</p> +<p>"It has not killed me. And," added M. Grandissime, as they +passed through the carriage-way toward the street, "while I keep in +mind the numberless other sorrows of life, the burials of wives and +sons and daughters, the agonies and desolations, I shall never die +of love, my-de'-seh, for very shame's sake."</p> +<p>This was much sentiment to risk within Doctor Keene's reach; but +he took no advantage of it.</p> +<p>"Honoré," said he, as they joined hands on the banquette +beside the doctor's gig, to say good-day, "if you think there's a +chance for you, why stickle upon such fine-drawn points as I reckon +you are making? Why, sir, as I understand it, this is the only weak +spot your action has shown; you have taken an inoculation of +Quixotic conscience from our transcendental apothecary and +perpetrated a lot of heroic behavior that would have done honor to +four-and-twenty Brutuses; and now that you have a chance to do +something easy and human, you shiver and shrink at the 'looks o' +the thing.' Why, what do you care--"</p> +<p>"Hush!" said Honoré; "do you suppose I have not +temptation enough already?"</p> +<p>He began to move away.</p> +<p>"Honoré," said the doctor, following him a step, "I +couldn't have made a mistake--It's the little Monk,--it's Aurora, +isn't it?"</p> +<p>Honoré nodded, then faced his friend more directly, with +a sudden new thought.</p> +<p>"But, Doctor, why not take your own advice? I know not how you +are prevented; you have as good a right as Frowenfeld."</p> +<p>"It wouldn't be honest," said the doctor; "it wouldn't be the +straight up and down manly thing."</p> +<p>"Why not?"</p> +<p>The doctor stepped into his gig--</p> +<p>"Not till I feel all right <i>here</i>." (In his chest.)</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII</h2> +<h3>FROWENFELD AT THE GRANDISSIME MANSION</h3> +<br> +<p>One afternoon--it seems to have been some time in June, and +consequently earlier than Doctor Keene's return--the Grandissimes +were set all a-tremble with vexation by the discovery that another +of their number had, to use Agricola's expression, "gone over to +the enemy,"--a phrase first applied by him to Honoré.</p> +<p>"What do you intend to convey by that term?" Frowenfeld had +asked on that earlier occasion.</p> +<p>"Gone over to the enemy means, my son, gone over to the enemy!" +replied Agricola. "It implies affiliation with Américains in +matters of business and of government! It implies the exchange of +social amenities with a race of upstarts! It implies a craven +consent to submit the sacredest prejudices of our fathers to the +new-fangled measuring-rods of pert, imported theories upon moral +and political progress! It implies a listening to, and reasoning +with, the condemners of some of our most time-honored and +respectable practices! Reasoning with? N-a-hay! but Honoré +has positively sat down and eaten with them! What?--and h-walked +out into the stre-heet with them, arm in arm! It implies in his +case an act--two separate and distinct acts--so base that--that--I +simply do not understand them! <i>H-you</i> know, Professor +Frowenfeld, what he has done! You know how ignominiously he has +surrendered the key of a moral position which for the honor of the +Grandissime-Fusilier name we have felt it necessary to hold against +our hereditary enemies! And--you--know--" here Agricola actually +dropped all artificiality and spoke from the depths of his +feelings, without figure--"h-h-he has joined himself in business +h-with a man of negro blood! What can we do? What can we say? It is +Honoré Grandissime. We can only say, 'Farewell! He is gone +over to the enemy.'"</p> +<p>The new cause of exasperation was the defection of Raoul +Innerarity. Raoul had, somewhat from a distance, contemplated such +part as he could understand of Joseph Frowenfeld's character with +ever-broadening admiration. We know how devoted he became to the +interests and fame of "Frowenfeld's." It was in April he had +married. Not to divide his generous heart he took rooms opposite +the drug-store, resolved that "Frowenfeld's" should be not only the +latest closed but the earliest opened of all the pharmacies in New +Orleans.</p> +<p>This, it is true, was allowable. Not many weeks afterward his +bride fell suddenly and seriously ill. The overflowing souls of +Aurora and Clotilde could not be so near to trouble and not know +it, and before Raoul was nearly enough recovered from the shock of +this peril to remember that he was a Grandissime, these last two of +the De Grapions had hastened across the street to the small, +white-walled sick-room and filled it as full of universal human +love as the cup of a magnolia is full of perfume. Madame Innerarity +recovered. A warm affection was all she and her husband could pay +such ministration in, and this they paid bountifully; the four +became friends. The little madame found herself drawn most toward +Clotilde; to her she opened her heart--and her wardrobe, and showed +her all her beautiful new underclothing. Raoul found Clotilde to +be, for him, rather--what shall we say?--starry; starrily +inaccessible; but Aurora was emphatically after his liking; he was +delighted with Aurora. He told her in confidence that "Profess-or +Frowenfel'" was the best man in the world; but she boldly said, +taking pains to speak with a tear-and-a-half of genuine +gratitude,--"Egcep' Monsieur Honoré Grandissime," and he +assented, at first with hesitation and then with ardor. The four +formed a group of their own; and it is not certain that this was +not the very first specimen ever produced in the Crescent City of +that social variety of New Orleans life now distinguished as Uptown +Creoles.</p> +<p>Almost the first thing acquired by Raoul in the camp of the +enemy was a certain Aurorean audacity; and on the afternoon to +which we allude, having told Frowenfeld a rousing fib to the effect +that the multitudinous inmates of the maternal Grandissime mansion +had insisted on his bringing his esteemed employer to see them, he +and his bride had the hardihood to present him on the front +veranda.</p> +<p>The straightforward Frowenfeld was much pleased with his +reception. It was not possible for such as he to guess the ire with +which his presence was secretly regarded. New Orleans, let us say +once more, was small, and the apothecary of the rue Royale locally +famed; and what with curiosity and that innate politeness which it +is the Creole's boast that he cannot mortify, the veranda, about +the top of the great front stair, was well crowded with people of +both sexes and all ages. It would be most pleasant to tarry once +more in description of this gathering of nobility and beauty; to +recount the points of Creole loveliness in midsummer dress; to tell +in particular of one and another eye-kindling face, form, manner, +wit; to define the subtle qualities of Creole air and sky and +scene, or the yet more delicate graces that characterize the music +of Creole voice and speech and the light of Creole eyes; to set +forth the gracious, unaccentuated dignity of the matrons and the +ravishing archness of their daughters. To Frowenfeld the experience +seemed all unreal. Nor was this unreality removed by conversation +on grave subjects; for few among either the maturer or the younger +beauty could do aught but listen to his foreign tongue like +unearthly strangers in the old fairy tales. They came, however, in +the course of their talk to the subject of love and marriage. It is +not certain that they entered deeper into the great question than a +comparison of its attendant Anglo-American and Franco-American +conventionalities; but sure it is that somehow--let those young +souls divine the method who can--every unearthly stranger on that +veranda contrived to understand Frowenfeld's English. Suddenly the +conversation began to move over the ground of inter-marriage +between hostile families. Then what eyes and ears! A certain +suspicion had already found lodgement in the universal Grandissime +breast, and every one knew in a moment that, to all intents and +purposes, they were about to argue the case of Honoré and +Aurora.</p> +<p>The conversation became discussion, Frowenfeld, Raoul and +Raoul's little seraph against the whole host, chariots, horse and +archery. Ah! such strokes as the apothecary dealt! And if Raoul and +"Madame Raoul" played parts most closely resembling the blowing of +horns and breaking of pitchers, still they bore themselves +gallantly. The engagement was short; we need not say that nobody +surrendered; nobody ever gives up the ship in parlor or veranda +debate: and yet--as is generally the case in such affairs--truth +and justice made some unacknowledged headway. If anybody on either +side came out wounded--this to the credit of the Creoles as a +people--the sufferer had the heroic good manners not to say so. But +the results were more marked than this; indeed, in more than one or +two candid young hearts and impressible minds the wrongs and rights +of sovereign true love began there on the spot to be more +generously conceded and allowed. "My-de'-seh," Honoré had +once on a time said to Frowenfeld, meaning that to prevail in +conversational debate one should never follow up a faltering +opponent, "you mus' <i>crack</i> the egg, not smash it!" And +Joseph, on rising to take his leave, could the more amiably +overlook the feebleness of the invitation to call again, since he +rejoiced, for Honoré's sake, in the conviction that the egg +was cracked.</p> +<p>Agricola, the Grandissimes told the apothecary, was ill in his +room, and Madame de Grandissime, his sister--Honoré's +mother--begged to be excused that she might keep him company. The +Fusiliers were a very close order; or one might say they garrisoned +the citadel.</p> +<p>But Joseph's rising to go was not immediately upon the close of +the discussion; those courtly people would not let even an +unwelcome guest go with the faintest feeling of disrelish for them. +They were casting about in their minds for some momentary diversion +with which to add a finishing touch to their guest's entertainment, +when Clemence appeared in the front garden walk and was quickly +surrounded by bounding children, alternately begging and demanding +a song. Many of even the younger adults remembered well when she +had been "one of the hands on the place," and a passionate lover of +the African dance. In the same instant half a dozen voices proposed +that for Joseph's amusement Clemence should put her cakes off her +head, come up on the veranda and show a few of her best steps.</p> +<p>"But who will sing?"</p> +<p>"Raoul!"</p> +<p>"Very well; and what shall it be?"</p> +<p>"'Madame Gaba.'"</p> +<p>No, Clemence objected.</p> +<p>"Well, well, stand back--something better than 'Madame +Gaba.'"</p> +<p>Raoul began to sing and Clemence instantly to pace and turn, +posture, bow, respond to the song, start, swing, straighten, stamp, +wheel, lift her hand, stoop, twist, walk, whirl, tiptoe with +crossed ankles, smite her palms, march, circle, leap,--an endless +improvisation of rhythmic motion to this modulated responsive +chant:</p> +<blockquote>Raoul. "<i>Mo pas l'aimein ça</i>."<br> +<br> +Clemence. "<i>Miché Igenne, oap! oap! oap!</i>"<br> +<br> +He. "<i>Yé donné vingt cinq sous pou' manzé +poulé</i>."<br> +<br> +She. "<i>Miché Igenne, dit--dit--dit--</i>"<br> +<br> +He. "<i>Mo pas l'aimein ça!</i>"<br> +<br> +She. "<i>Miché Igenne, oap! oap! oap!</i>"<br> +<br> +He. "<i>Mo pas l'aimein ça!</i>"<br> +<br> +She. "<i>Miché Igenne, oap! oap! oap!</i>"</blockquote> +<p>Frowenfeld was not so greatly amused as the ladies thought he +should have been, and was told that this was not a fair indication +of what he would see if there were ten dancers instead of one.</p> +<p>How much less was it an indication of what he would have seen in +that mansion early the next morning, when there was found just +outside of Agricola's bedroom door a fresh egg, not cracked, +according to Honoré's maxim, but smashed, according to the +lore of the voudous. Who could have got in in the night? And did +the intruder get in by magic, by outside lock-picking, or by inside +collusion? Later in the morning, the children playing in the +basement found--it had evidently been accidentally dropped, since +the true use of its contents required them to be scattered in some +person's path--a small cloth bag, containing a quantity of dogs' +and cats' hair, cut fine and mixed with salt and pepper.</p> +<p>"Clemence?"</p> +<p>"Pooh! Clemence. No! But as sure as the sun turns around the +world--Palmyre Philosophe!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV</h2> +<h3>"CAULDRON BUBBLE"</h3> +<br> +<p>The excitement and alarm produced by the practical threat of +voudou curses upon Agricola was one thing, Creole lethargy was +quite another; and when, three mornings later, a full quartette of +voudou charms was found in the four corners of Agricola's pillow, +the great Grandissime family were ignorant of how they could have +come there. Let us examine these terrible engines of mischief. In +one corner was an acorn drilled through with two holes at right +angles to each other, a small feather run through each hole; in the +second a joint of cornstalk with a cavity scooped from the middle, +the pith left intact at the ends, and the space filled with parings +from that small callous spot near the knee of the horse, called the +"nail;" in the third corner a bunch of parti-colored feathers; +something equally meaningless in the fourth. No thread was used in +any of them. All fastening was done with the gum of trees. It was +no easy task for his kindred to prevent Agricola, beside himself +with rage and fright, from going straight to Palmyre's house and +shooting her down in open day.</p> +<p>"We shall have to watch our house by night," said a gentleman of +the household, when they had at length restored the Citizen to a +condition of mind which enabled them to hold him in a chair.</p> +<p>"Watch this house?" cried a chorus. "You don't suppose she comes +near here, do you? She does it all from a distance. No, no; watch +<i>her</i> house."</p> +<p>Did Agricola believe in the supernatural potency of these +gimcracks? No, and yes. Not to be foolhardy, he quietly slipped +down every day to the levee, had a slave-boy row him across the +river in a skiff, landed, re-embarked, and in the middle of the +stream surreptitiously cast a picayune over his shoulder into the +river. Monsieur D'Embarras, the imp of death thus placated, must +have been a sort of spiritual Cheap John.</p> +<p>Several more nights passed. The house of Palmyre, closely +watched, revealed nothing. No one came out, no one went in, no +light was seen. They should have watched in broad daylight. At +last, one midnight, 'Polyte Grandissime stepped cautiously up to +one of the batten doors with an auger, and succeeded, without +arousing any one, in boring a hole. He discovered a lighted candle +standing in a glass of water.</p> +<p>"Nothing but a bedroom light," said one.</p> +<p>"Ah, bah!" whispered the other; "it is to make the spell work +strong."</p> +<p>"We will not tell Agricola first; we had better tell +Honoré," said Sylvestre.</p> +<p>"You forget," said 'Polyte, "that I no longer have any +acquaintance with Monsieur Honoré Grandissime."</p> +<p>They told Agamemnon; and it would have gone hard with the +"<i>milatraise</i>" but for the additional fact that suspicion had +fastened upon another person; but now this person in turn had to be +identified. It was decided not to report progress to old Agricola, +but to wait and seek further developments. Agricola, having lost +all ability to sleep in the mansion, moved into a small cottage in +a grove near the house. But the very next morning, he turned cold +with horror to find on his doorstep a small black-coffined doll, +with pins run through the heart, a burned-out candle at the head +and another at the feet.</p> +<p>"You know it is Palmyre, do you?" asked Agamemnon, seizing the +old man as he was going at a headlong pace through the garden gate. +"What if I should tell you that by watching the Congo +dancing-ground at midnight to-night, you will see the real author +of this mischief--eh?"</p> +<p>"And why to-night?"</p> +<p>"Because the moon rises at midnight."</p> +<p>There was firing that night in the deserted Congo +dancing-grounds under the ruins of Fort St. Joseph, or, as we would +say now, in Congo Square, from three pistols--Agricola's, +'Polyte's, and the weapon of an ill-defined, retreating figure +answering the description of the person who had stabbed Agricola +the preceding February. "And yet," said 'Polyte, "I would have +sworn that it was Palmyre doing this work."</p> +<p>Through Raoul these events came to the ear of Frowenfield. It +was about the time that Raoul's fishing party, after a few days' +mishaps, had returned home. Palmyre, on several later dates, had +craved further audiences and shown other letters from the hidden +f.m.c. She had heard them calmly, and steadfastly preserved the one +attitude of refusal. But it could not escape Frowenfeld's notice +that she encouraged the sending of additional letters. He easily +guessed the courier to be Clemence; and now, as he came to ponder +these revelations of Raoul, he found that within twenty-four hours +after every visit of Clemence to the house of Palmyre, Agricola +suffered a visitation.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV</h2> +<h3>CAUGHT</h3> +<br> +<p>The fig-tree, in Louisiana, sometimes sheds its leaves while it +is yet summer. In the rear of the Grandissme mansion, about two +hundred yards northwest of it and fifty northeast of the cottage in +which Agricola had made his new abode, on the edge of the grove of +which we have spoken, stood one of these trees, whose leaves were +beginning to lie thickly upon the ground beneath it. An ancient and +luxuriant hedge of Cherokee-rose started from this tree and +stretched toward the northwest across the level country, until it +merged into the green confusion of gardened homes in the vicinity +of Bayou St. Jean, or, by night, into the common obscurity of a +starlit perspective. When an unclouded moon shone upon it, it cast +a shadow as black as velvet.</p> +<p>Under this fig-tree, some three hours later than that at which +Honoré bade Joseph good-night, a man was stooping down and +covering something with the broad, fallen leaves.</p> +<p>"The moon will rise about three o'clock," thought he. "That, the +hour of universal slumber, will be, by all odds, the time most +likely to bring developments."</p> +<p>He was the same person who had spent the most of the day in a +blacksmith's shop in St. Louis street, superintending a piece of +smithing. Now that he seemed to have got the thing well hid, he +turned to the base of the tree and tried the security of some +attachment. Yes, it was firmly chained. He was not a robber; he was +not an assassin; he was not an officer of police; and what is more +notable, seeing he was a Louisianian, he was not a soldier nor even +an ex-soldier; and this although, under his clothing, he was +encased from head to foot in a complete suit of mail. Of steel? No. +Of brass? No. It was all one piece--<i>a white skin</i>; and on his +head he wore an invisible helmet--the name of Grandissime. As he +straightened up and withdrew into the grove, you would have +recognized at once--by his thick-set, powerful frame, clothed +seemingly in black, but really, as you might guess, in blue +cottonade, by his black beard and the general look of a seafarer--a +frequent visitor at the Grandissime mansion, a country member of +that great family, one whom we saw at the <i>fête de +grandpère</i>.</p> +<p>Capitain Jean-Baptiste Grandissime was a man of few words, no +sentiments, short methods; materialistic, we might say; quietly +ferocious; indifferent as to means, positive as to ends, quick of +perception, sure in matters of saltpetre, a stranger at the +custom-house, and altogether--<i>take him right</i>--very much of a +gentleman. He had been, for a whole day, beset with the idea that +the way to catch a voudou was--to catch him; and as he had caught +numbers of them on both sides of the tropical and semi-tropical +Atlantic, he decided to try his skill privately on the one who--his +experience told him--was likely to visit Agricola's doorstep +to-night. All things being now prepared, he sat down at the root of +a tree in the grove, where the shadow was very dark, and seemed +quite comfortable. He did not strike at the mosquitoes; they +appeared to understand that he did not wish to trifle. Neither did +his thoughts or feelings trouble him; he sat and sharpened a small +penknife on his boot.</p> +<p>His mind--his occasional transient meditation--was the more +comfortable because he was one of those few who had coolly and +unsentimentally allowed Honoré Grandissime to sell their +lands. It continued to grow plainer every day that the grants with +which theirs were classed--grants of old French or Spanish +under-officials--were bad. Their sagacious cousin seemed to have +struck the right standard, and while those titles which he still +held on to remained unimpeached, those that he had parted with to +purchasers--as, for instance, the grant held by this Capitain +Jean-Baptiste Grandissime--could be bought back now for half what +he had got for it. Certainly, as to that, the Capitain might well +have that quietude of mind which enabled him to find occupation in +perfecting the edge of his penknife and trimming his nails in the +dark.</p> +<p>By and by he put up the little tool and sat looking out upon the +prospect. The time of greatest probability had not come, but the +voudou might choose not to wait for that; and so he kept watch. +There was a great stillness. The cocks had finished a round and +were silent. No dog barked. A few tiny crickets made the quiet land +seem the more deserted. Its beauties were not entirely +overlooked--the innumerable host of stars above, the twinkle of +myriad fireflies on the dark earth below. Between a quarter and a +half-mile away, almost in a line with the Cherokee hedge, was a +faint rise of ground, and on it a wide-spreading live-oak. There +the keen, seaman's eye of the Capitain came to a stop, fixed upon a +spot which he had not noticed before. He kept his eye on it, and +waited for the stronger light of the moon.</p> +<p>Presently behind the grove at his back she rose; and almost the +first beam that passed over the tops of the trees, and stretched +across the plain, struck the object of his scrutiny. What was it? +The ground, he knew; the tree, he knew; he knew there ought to be a +white paling enclosure about the trunk of the tree: for there were +buried--ah!--he came as near laughing at himself as ever he did in +his life; the apothecary of the rue Royale had lately erected some +marble headstones there, and--</p> +<p>"Oh! my God!"</p> +<p>While Capitain Jean-Baptiste had been trying to guess what the +tombstones were, a woman had been coming toward him in the shadow +of the hedge. She was not expecting to meet him; she did not know +that he was there; she knew she had risks to run, but was ignorant +of what they were; she did not know there was anything under the +fig-tree which she so nearly and noiselessly approached. One moment +her foot was lifted above the spot where the unknown object lay +with wide-stretched jaws under the leaves, and the next, she +uttered that cry of agony and consternation which interrupted the +watcher's meditation. She was caught in a huge steel-trap.</p> +<p>Capitain Jean-Baptiste Grandissime remained perfectly still. She +fell, a snarling, struggling, groaning heap, to the ground, wild +with pain and fright, and began the hopeless effort to draw the +jaws of the trap apart with her fingers.</p> +<p>"<i>Ah! bon Dieu, bon Dieu!</i> Quit a-<i>bi-i-i-i-tin' me</i>! +Oh! Lawd 'a' mussy! Ow-ow-ow! lemme go! Dey go'n' to kyetch an' +hang me! Oh! an' I hain' done nutt'n' 'gainst <i>no</i>body! Ah! +<i>bon Dieu! ein pov' vié négresse</i>! Oh! Jemimy! I +cyan' gid dis yeh t'ing loose--oh! m-m-m-m! An' dey'll tra to mek +out't I voudou' Mich-Agricole! An' I did n' had nutt'n' do wid it! +Oh Lawd, oh <i>Lawd</i>, you'll be mighty good ef you lemme loose! +I'm a po' nigga! Oh! dey had n' ought to mek it so +<i>pow</i>'ful!"</p> +<p>Hands, teeth, the free foot, the writhing body, every +combination of available forces failed to spread the savage jaws, +though she strove until hands and mouth were bleeding.</p> +<p>Suddenly she became silent; a thought of precaution came to her; +she lifted from the earth a burden she had dropped there, struggled +to a half-standing posture, and, with her foot still in the trap, +was endeavoring to approach the end of the hedge near by, to thrust +this burden under it, when she opened her throat in a speechless +ecstasy of fright on feeling her arm grasped by her captor.</p> +<p>"O-o-o-h! Lawd! o-o-oh! Lawd!" she cried, in a frantic, husky +whisper, going down upon her knees, "<i>Oh, Miché! pou' +l'amou' du bon Dieu! Pou' l'amou du bon Dieu ayez pitié +d'ein pov' négresse! Pov' négresse, Miché</i>, +w'at nevva done nutt'n' to nobody on'y jis sell <i>calas</i>! I iss +comin' 'long an' step inteh dis-yeh bah-trap by acci<i>dent</i>! +Ah! <i>Miché, Miché</i>, ple-e-ease be good! <i>Ah! +mon Dieu</i>!--an' de Lawd'll reward you--'deed 'E will, +<i>Miché</i>!"</p> +<p>"<i>Qui ci ça?</i>" asked the Capitain, sternly, stooping +and grasping her burden, which she had been trying to conceal under +herself.</p> +<p>"Oh, Miché, don' trouble dat! Please jes tek dis yeh trap +offen me--da's all! Oh, don't, mawstah, ple-e-ease don' spill all +my wash'n' t'ings! 'Tain't nutt'n' but my old dress roll' up into a +ball. Oh, please--now, you see? nutt'n' but a po' nigga's +dr--<i>oh! fo' de love o' God, Miché Jean-Baptiste, don' +open dat ah box! Y'en a rien du tout la-dans, Miché +Jean-Baptiste; du tout, du tout</i>! Oh, my God! +<i>Miché</i>, on'y jis teck dis-yeh t'ing off'n my laig, ef +yo' <i>please</i>, it's bit'n' me lak a <i>dawg</i>!--if you +<i>please, Miché</i>! Oh! you git kill' if you open dat ah +box, Mawse Jean-Baptiste! <i>Mo' parole d'honneur le plus +sacre</i>--I'll kiss de cross! Oh, <i>sweet Miché Jean, +laisse moi aller</i>! Nutt'n' but some dutty close <i>la-dans</i>." +She repeated this again and again, even after Capitain +Jean-Baptiste had disengaged a small black coffin from the old +dress in which it was wrapped. "<i>Rien du tout, Miché</i>; +nutt'n' but some wash'n' fo' one o' de boys."</p> +<p>He removed the lid and saw within, resting on the cushioned +bottom, the image, in myrtle-wax, moulded and painted with some +rude skill, of a negro's bloody arm cut off near the shoulder--a +<i>bras coupé</i>--with a dirk grasped in its hand.</p> +<p>The old woman lifted her eyes to heaven; her teeth chattered; +she gasped twice before she could recover utterance. "<i>Oh, +Miché</i> Jean-Baptiste, I di' n' mek dat ah! <i>Mo' +té pas fé ça</i>! I swea' befo' God! Oh, no, +no, no! 'Tain' nutt'n' nohow but a lill play-toy, +<i>Miché</i>. Oh, sweet <i>Miché Jean</i>, you not +gwan to kill me? I di' n' mek it! It was--ef you lemme go, I tell +you who mek it! Sho's I live I tell you, <i>Miché +Jean</i>--ef you lemme go! Sho's God's good to me--ef you lemme go! +Oh, God A'mighty, <i>Miché Jean</i>, sho's God's good to +me."</p> +<p>She was becoming incoherent.</p> +<p>Then Capitain Jean-Baptiste Grandissime for the first time spoke +at length:</p> +<p>"Do you see this?" he spoke the French of the Atchafalaya. He +put his long flintlock pistol close to her face. "I shall take the +trap off; you will walk three feet in front of me; if you make it +four I blow your brains out; we shall go to Agricole. But right +here, just now, before I count ten, you will tell me who sent you +here; at the word ten, if I reach it, I pull the trigger. +One--two--three--"</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>Miché</i>, she gwan to gib me to de devil wid +<i>houdou</i> ef I tell you--Oh, good <i>Lawdy</i>!"</p> +<p>But he did not pause.</p> +<p>"Four--five--six--seven--eight--"</p> +<p>"Palmyre!" gasped the negress, and grovelled on the ground.</p> +<p>The trap was loosened from her bleeding leg, the burden placed +in her arms, and they disappeared in the direction of the +mansion.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>A black shape, a boy, the lad who had carried the basil to +Frowenfeld, rose up from where he had all this time lain, close +against the hedge, and glided off down its black shadow to warn the +philosophe.</p> +<p>When Clemence was searched, there was found on her person an old +table-knife with its end ground to a point.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI</h2> +<h3>BLOOD FOR A BLOW</h3> +<br> +<p>It seems to be one of the self-punitive characteristics of +tyranny, whether the tyrant be a man, a community, or a caste, to +have a pusillanimous fear of its victim. It was not when Clemence +lay in irons, it is barely now, that our South is casting off a +certain apprehensive tremor, generally latent, but at the slightest +provocation active, and now and then violent, concerning her +"blacks." This fear, like others similar elsewhere in the world, +has always been met by the same one antidote--terrific cruelty to +the tyrant's victim. So we shall presently see the Grandissime +ladies, deeming themselves compassionate, urging their kinsmen to +"give the poor wretch a sound whipping and let her go." Ah! what +atrocities are we unconsciously perpetrating North and South now, +in the name of mercy or defence, which the advancing light of +progressive thought will presently show out in their enormity?</p> +<p>Agricola slept late. He had gone to his room the evening before +much incensed at the presumption of some younger Grandissimes who +had brought up the subject, and spoken in defence, of their cousin +Honoré. He had retired, however, not to rest, but to +construct an engine of offensive warfare which would revenge him a +hundred-fold upon the miserable school of imported thought which +had sent its revolting influences to the very Grandissime +hearthstone; he wrote a "<i>Phillipique Générale +contre la Conduite du Gouvernement de la Louisiane</i>" and a short +but vigorous chapter in English on "The Insanity of Educating the +Masses." This accomplished, he had gone to bed in a condition of +peaceful elation, eager for the next day to come that he might take +these mighty productions to Joseph Frowenfeld, and make him a +present of them for insertion in his book of tables.</p> +<p>Jean-Baptiste felt no need of his advice, that he should rouse +him; and, for a long time before the old man awoke, his younger +kinsmen were stirring about unwontedly, going and coming through +the hall of the mansion, along its verandas and up and down its +outer flight of stairs. Gates were opening and shutting, errands +were being carried by negro boys on bareback horses, Charlie +Mandarin of St. Bernard parish and an Armand Fusilier from Faubourg +Ste. Marie had on some account come--as they told the ladies--"to +take breakfast;" and the ladies, not yet informed, amusedly +wondering at all this trampling and stage whispering, were up a +trifle early. In those days Creole society was a ship, in which the +fair sex were all passengers and the ruder sex the crew. The ladies +of the Grandissime mansion this morning asked passengers' +questions, got sailors' answers, retorted wittily and more or less +satirically, and laughed often, feeling their constrained +insignificance. However, in a house so full of bright-eyed +children, with mothers and sisters of all ages as their +confederates, the secret was soon out, and before Agricola had left +his little cottage in the grove the topic of all tongues was the +abysmal treachery and <i>ingratitude</i> of negro slaves. The whole +tribe of Grandissime believed, this morning, in the doctrine of +total depravity--of the negro.</p> +<p>And right in the face of this belief, the ladies put forth the +generously intentioned prayer for mercy. They were answered that +they little knew what frightful perils they were thus inviting upon +themselves.</p> +<p>The male Grandissimes were not surprised at this exhibition of +weak clemency in their lovely women; they were proud of it; it +showed the magnanimity that was natural to the universal +Grandissime heart, when not restrained and repressed by the stern +necessities of the hour. But Agricola disappointed them. Why should +he weaken and hesitate, and suggest delays and middle courses, and +stammer over their proposed measures as "extreme"? In very truth, +it seemed as though that drivelling, woman-beaten Deutsch +apotheke--ha! ha! ha!--in the rue Royale had bewitched Agricola as +well as Honoré. The fact was, Agricola had never got over +the interview which had saved Sylvestre his life.</p> +<p>"Here, Agricole," his kinsmen at length said, "you see you are +too old for this sort of thing; besides, it would be bad taste for +you, who might be presumed to harbor feelings of revenge, to have a +voice in this council." And then they added to one another: "We +will wait until 'Polyte reports whether or not they have caught +Palmyre; much will depend on that."</p> +<p>Agricola, thus ruled out, did a thing he did not fully +understand; he rolled up the "<i>Philippique +Générale</i>" and "The Insanity of Educating the +Masses," and, with these in one hand and his staff in the other, +set out for Frowenfeld's, not merely smarting but trembling under +the humiliation of having been sent, for the first time in his +life, to the rear as a non-combatant.</p> +<p>He found the apothecary among his clerks, preparing with his own +hands the "chalybeate tonic" for which the f.m.c. was expected to +call. Raoul Innerarity stood at his elbow, looking on with an +amiable air of having been superseded for the moment by his +master.</p> +<p>"Ha-ah! Professor Frowenfeld!"</p> +<p>The old man nourished his scroll.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld said good-morning, and they shook hands across the +counter; but the old man's grasp was so tremulous that the +apothecary looked at him again.</p> +<p>"Does my hand tremble, Joseph? It is not strange; I have had +much to excite me this morning."</p> +<p>"Wat's de mattah?" demanded Raoul, quickly.</p> +<p>"My life--which I admit, Professor Frowenfeld, is of little +value compared with such a one as yours--has been--if not +attempted, at least threatened."</p> +<p>"How?" cried Raoul.</p> +<p>"H-really, Professor, we must agree that a trifle like that +ought not to make old Agricola Fusilier nervous. But I find it +painful, sir, very painful. I can lift up this right hand, Joseph, +and swear I never gave a slave--man or woman--a blow in my life but +according to my notion of justice. And now to find my life +attempted by former slaves of my own household, and taunted with +the righteous hamstringing of a dangerous runaway! But they have +apprehended the miscreants; one is actually in hand, and justice +will take its course; trust the Grandissimes for that--though, +really, Joseph, I assure you, I counselled leniency."</p> +<p>"Do you say they have caught her?" Frowenfeld's question was +sudden and excited; but the next moment he had controlled +himself.</p> +<p>"H-h-my son, I did not say it was a 'her'!"</p> +<p>"Was it not Clemence? Have they caught her?"</p> +<p>"H-yes--"</p> +<p>The apothecary turned to Raoul.</p> +<p>"Go tell Honoré Grandissime."</p> +<p>"But, Professor Frowenfeld--" began Agricola.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld turned to repeat his instruction, but Raoul was +already leaving the store.</p> +<p>Agricola straightened up angrily.</p> +<p>"Pro-hofessor Frowenfeld, by what right do you interfere?"</p> +<p>"No matter," said the apothecary, turning half-way and pouring +the tonic into a vial.</p> +<p>"Sir," thundered the old lion, "h-I demand of you to answer! How +dare you insinuate that my kinsmen may deal otherwise than +justly?"</p> +<p>"Will they treat her exactly as if she were white, and had +threatened the life of a slave?" asked Frowenfeld from behind the +desk at the end of the counter.</p> +<p>The old man concentrated all the indignation of his nature in +the reply.</p> +<p>"No-ho, sir!"</p> +<p>As he spoke, a shadow approaching from the door caused him to +turn. The tall, dark, finely clad form of the f.m.c, in its old +soft-stepping dignity and its sad emaciation, came silently toward +the spot where he stood.</p> +<p>Frowenfeld saw this, and hurried forward inside the counter with +the preparation in his hand.</p> +<p>"Professor Frowenfeld," said Agricola, pointing with his ugly +staff, "I demand of you, as a keeper of a white man's pharmacy, to +turn that negro out."</p> +<p>"Citizen Fusilier!" exclaimed the apothecary; "Mister +Grandis--"</p> +<p>He felt as though no price would be too dear at that moment to +pay for the presence of the other Honoré. He had to go clear +to the end of the counter and come down the outside again to reach +the two men. They did not wait for him. Agricola turned upon the +f.m.c.</p> +<p>"Take off your hat!"</p> +<p>A sudden activity seized every one connected with the +establishment as the quadroon let his thin right hand slowly into +his bosom, and answered in French, in his soft, low voice:</p> +<p>"I wear my hat on my head."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld was hurrying toward them; others stepped forward, and +from two or three there came half-uttered exclamations of protest; +but unfortunately nothing had been done or said to provoke any one +to rush upon them, when Agricola suddenly advanced a step and +struck the f.m.c. on the head with his staff. Then the general +outcry and forward rush came too late; the two crashed together and +fell, Agricola above, the f.m.c. below, and a long knife lifted up +from underneath sank to its hilt, once--twice--thrice,--in the old +man's back.</p> +<p>The two men rose, one in the arms of his friends, the other upon +his own feet. While every one's attention was directed toward the +wounded man, his antagonist restored his dagger to its sheath, took +up his hat and walked away unmolested. When Frowenfeld, with +Agricola still in his arms, looked around for the quadroon, he was +gone.</p> +<p>Doctor Keene, sent for instantly, was soon at Agricola's +side.</p> +<p>"Take him upstairs; he can't be moved any further."</p> +<p>Frowenfeld turned and began to instruct some one to run upstairs +and ask permission, but the little doctor stopped him.</p> +<p>"Joe, for shame! you don't know those women better than that? +Take the old man right up!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII</h2> +<h3>VOUDOU CURED</h3> +<br> +<p>"Honoré," said Agricola, faintly, "where is +Honoré!"</p> +<p>"He has been sent for," said Doctor Keene and the two ladies in +a breath.</p> +<p>Raoul, bearing the word concerning Clemence, and the later +messenger summoning him to Agricola's bedside, reached +Honoré within a minute of each other. His instructions were +quickly given, for Raoul to take his horse and ride down to the +family mansion, to break gently to his mother the news of +Agricola's disaster, and to say to his kinsmen with imperative +emphasis, not to touch the <i>marchande des calas</i> till he +should come. Then he hurried to the rue Royale.</p> +<p>But when Raoul arrived at the mansion he saw at a glance that +the news had outrun him. The family carriage was already coming +round the bottom of the front stairs for three Mesdames Grandissime +and Madame Martinez. The children on all sides had dropped their +play, and stood about, hushed and staring. The servants moved with +quiet rapidity. In the hall he was stopped by two beautiful +girls.</p> +<p>"Raoul! Oh, Raoul, how is he now? Oh! Raoul, if you could only +stop them! They have taken old Clemence down into the swamp--as +soon as they heard about Agricole--Oh, Raoul, surely that would be +cruel! She nursed me--and me--when we were babies!"</p> +<p>"Where is Agamemnon?"</p> +<p>"Gone to the city."</p> +<p>"What did he say about it?"</p> +<p>"He said they were doing wrong, that he did not approve their +action, and that they would get themselves into trouble: that he +washed his hands of it."</p> +<p>"Ah-h-h!" exclaimed Raoul, "wash his hands! Oh, yes, wash his +hands? Suppose we all wash our hands? But where is Valentine? Where +is Charlie Mandarin?"</p> +<p>"Ah! Valentine is gone with Agamemnon, saying the same thing, +and Charlie Mandarin is down in the swamp, the worst of all of +them!"</p> +<p>"But why did you let Agamemnon and Valentine go off that way, +you?"</p> +<p>"Ah! listen to Raoul! What can a woman do?"</p> +<p>"What can a woman--Well, even if I was a woman, I would do +something!"</p> +<p>He hurried from the house, leaped into the saddle and galloped +across the fields toward the forest.</p> +<p>Some rods within the edge of the swamp, which, at this season, +was quite dry in many places, on a spot where the fallen dead +bodies of trees overlay one another and a dense growth of willows +and vines and dwarf palmetto shut out the light of the open fields, +the younger and some of the harsher senior members of the +Grandissime family were sitting or standing about, in an irregular +circle whose centre was a big and singularly misshapen +water-willow. At the base of this tree sat Clemence, motionless and +silent, a wan, sickly color in her face, and that vacant look in +her large, white-balled, brown-veined eyes, with which +hope-forsaken cowardice waits for death. Somewhat apart from the +rest, on an old cypress stump, half-stood, half-sat, in whispered +consultation, Jean-Baptiste Grandissime and Charlie Mandarin.</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>, old woman," said Mandarin, turning, without +rising, and speaking sharply in the negro French, "have you any +reason to give why you should not be hung to that limb over your +head?"</p> +<p>She lifted her eyes slowly to his, and made a feeble gesture of +deprecation.</p> +<p>"<i>Mo té pas fé cette bras</i>, Mawse Challie--I +di'n't mek dat ahm; no 'ndeed I di'n', Mawse Challie. I ain' wuth +hangin', gen'lemen; you'd oughteh jis gimme fawty an' lemme go. +I--I--I--I di'n' 'ten' no hawm to Mawse-Agricole; I wa'n't gwan to +hu't nobody in God's worl'; 'ndeed I wasn'. I done tote dat old +case-knife fo' twenty year'--<i>mo po'te ça dipi vingt +ans</i>. I'm a po' ole <i>marchande des calas; mo courri</i> +'mongs' de sojer boys to sell my cakes, you know, and da's de +onyest reason why I cyah dat ah ole fool knife." She seemed to take +some hope from the silence with which they heard her. Her eye +brightened and her voice took a tone of excitement. "You'd oughteh +tek me and put me in calaboose, an' let de law tek 'is co'se. You's +all nice gen'lemen--werry nice gen'lemen, an' you sorter owes it to +yo'sev's fo' to not do no sich nasty wuck as hangin' a po' ole +nigga wench; 'deed you does. 'Tain' no use to hang me; you gwan to +kyetch Palmyre yit; <i>li courri dans marais;</i> she is in de +swamp yeh, sum'ers; but as concernin' me, you'd oughteh jis gimme +fawty an lemme go. You mus'n't b'lieve all dis-yeh nonsense 'bout +insurrectionin'; all fool-nigga talk. W'at we want to be +insurrectionin' faw? We de happies' people in de God's worl'!" She +gave a start, and cast a furtive glance of alarm behind her. "Yes, +we is; you jis' oughteh gimme fawty an' lemme go! Please, +gen'lemen! God'll be good to you, you nice, sweet gen'lemen!"</p> +<p>Charlie Mandarin made a sign to one who stood at her back, who +responded by dropping a rawhide noose over her head. She bounded up +with a cry of terror; it may be that she had all along hoped that +all was make-believe. She caught the noose wildly with both hands +and tried to lift it over her head.</p> +<p>"Ah! no, mawsteh, you cyan' do dat! It's ag'in' de law! I's +'bleeged to have my trial, yit. Oh, no, no! Oh, good God, no! Even +if I is a nigga! You cyan' jis' murdeh me hyeh in de woods! <i>Mo +dis la zize</i>! I tell de judge on you! You ain' got no mo' biznis +to do me so 'an if I was a white 'oman! You dassent tek a white +'oman out'n de Pa'sh Pris'n an' do 'er so! Oh, sweet mawsteh, fo' +de love o' God! Oh, Mawse Challie, <i>pou' l'amou' du bon Dieu +n'fé pas ça</i>! Oh, Mawse 'Polyte, is you gwan to +let 'em kill ole Clemence? Oh, fo' de mussy o' Jesus Christ, Mawse +'Polyte, leas' of all, <i>you</i>! You dassent help to kill me, +Mawse 'Polyte! You knows why! Oh God, Mawse 'Polyte, you knows why! +Leas' of all you, Mawse 'Polyte! Oh, God 'a' mussy on my wicked ole +soul! I aint fitt'n to die! Oh, gen'lemen, I kyan' look God in de +face! <i>Oh, Michés, ayez pitié de moin! Oh, God +A'mighty ha' mussy on my soul</i>! Oh, gen'lemen, dough yo' +kinfolks kyvvah up yo' tricks now, dey'll dwap f'um undeh you some +day! <i>Solé levé là, li couché +là</i>! Yo' tu'n will come! Oh, God A'mighty! de God o' de +po' nigga wench! Look down, oh God, look down an' stop dis yeh +foolishness! Oh, God, fo' de love o' Jesus! <i>Oh, Michés, +y'en a ein zizement</i>! Oh, yes, deh's a judgmen' day! Den it wont +be a bit o' use to you to be white! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, fo', +fo', fo', de, de, <i>love 0' God! Oh</i>!"</p> +<p>They drew her up.</p> +<p>Raoul was not far off. He heard the woman's last cry, and came +threshing through the bushes on foot. He saw Sylvestre, unconscious +of any approach, spring forward, jerk away the hands that had drawn +the thong over the branch, let the strangling woman down and loosen +the noose. Her eyes, starting out with horror, turned to him; she +fell on her knees and clasped her hands. The tears were rolling +down Sylvestre's face.</p> +<p>"My friends, we must not do this! You <i>shall</i> not do +it!"</p> +<p>He hurled away, with twice his natural strength, one who put out +a hand.</p> +<p>"No, sirs!" cried Raoul, "you shall not do it! I come from +Honoré! Touch her who dares!"</p> +<p>He drew a weapon.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Innerarity," said 'Polyte, "<i>who is</i> Monsieur +Honoré Grandissime? There are two of the name, you +know,--partners--brothers. Which of--but it makes no difference; +before either of them sees this assassin she is going to be a lump +of nothing!"</p> +<p>The next word astonished every one. It was Charlie Mandarin who +spoke.</p> +<p>"Let her go!"</p> +<p>"Let her go!" said Jean-Baptiste Grandissime; "give her a run +for life. Old woman, rise up. We propose to let you go. Can you +run? Never mind, we shall see. Achille, put her upon her feet. Now, +old woman, run!"</p> +<p>She walked rapidly, but with unsteady feet, toward the +fields.</p> +<p>"Run! If you don't run I will shoot you this minute!"</p> +<p>She ran.</p> +<p>"Faster!"</p> +<p>She ran faster.</p> +<p>"Run!"</p> +<p>"Run!"</p> +<p>"Run, Clemence! Ha, ha, ha!" It was so funny to see her +scuttling and tripping and stumbling. "<i>Courri! courri, Clemence! +c'est pou to' vie!</i> ha, ha, ha--"</p> +<p>A pistol-shot rang out close behind Raoul's ear; it was never +told who fired it. The negress leaped into the air and fell at full +length to the ground, stone dead.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII</h2> +<h3>DYING WORDS</h3> +<br> +<p>Drivers of vehicles in the rue Royale turned aside before two +slight barriers spanning the way, one at the corner below, the +other at that above, the house where the aged high-priest of a +doomed civilization lay bleeding to death. The floor of the store +below, the pavement of the corridor where stood the idle volante, +were covered with straw, and servants came and went by the +beckoning of the hand.</p> +<p>"This way," whispered a guide of the four ladies from the +Grandissime mansion. As Honoré's mother turned the angle +half-way up the muffled stair, she saw at the landing above, +standing as if about to part, yet in grave council, a man and a +woman, the fairest--she noted it even in this moment of extreme +distress--she had ever looked upon. He had already set one foot +down upon the stair, but at sight of the ascending group drew back +and said:</p> +<p>"It is my mother;" then turned to his mother and took her hand; +they had been for months estranged, but now they silently +kissed.</p> +<p>"He is sleeping," said Honoré. "Maman, Madame +Nancanou."</p> +<p>The ladies bowed--the one looking very large and splendid, the +other very sweet and small. There was a single instant of silence, +and Aurora burst into tears.</p> +<p>For a moment Madame Grandissime assumed a frown that was almost +a reminder of her brother's, and then the very pride of the +Fusiliers broke down. She uttered an inaudible exclamation, drew +the weeper firmly into her bosom, and with streaming eyes and +choking voice, but yet with majesty, whispered, laying her hand on +Aurora's head:</p> +<p>"Never mind, my child; never mind; never mind."</p> +<p>And Honoré's sister, when she was presently introduced, +kissed Aurora and murmured:</p> +<p>"The good God bless thee! It is He who has brought us +together."</p> +<p>"Who is with him just now?" whispered the two other ladies, +while Honoré and his mother stood a moment aside in hurried +consultation.</p> +<p>"My daughter," said Aurora, "and--"</p> +<p>"Agamemnon," suggested Madame Martinez.</p> +<p>"I believe so," said Aurora.</p> +<p>Valentine appeared from the direction of the sick-room and +beckoned to Honoré. Doctor Keene did the same and continued +to advance.</p> +<p>"Awake?" asked Honoré.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Alas! my brother!" said Madame Grandissime, and started +forward, followed by the other women.</p> +<p>"Wait," said Honoré, and they paused. "Charlie," he said, +as the little doctor persistently pushed by him at the head of the +stair.</p> +<p>"Oh, there's no chance, Honoré, you'd as well all go in +there."</p> +<p>They gathered into the room and about the bed. Madame +Grandissime bent over it.</p> +<p>"Ah! sister," said the dying man, "is that you? I had the +sweetest dream just now--just for a minute." He sighed. "I feel +very weak. Where is Charlie Keene?"</p> +<p>He had spoken in French; he repeated his question in English. He +thought he saw the doctor.</p> +<p>"Charlie, if I must meet the worst I hope you will tell me so; I +am fully prepared. Ah! excuse--I thought it was--</p> +<p>"My eyes seem dim this evening. <i>Est-ce-vous</i>, +Honoré? Ah, Honoré, you went over to the enemy, did +you?--Well,--the Fusilier blood would al--ways--do as it pleased. +Here's your old uncle's hand, Honoré. I forgive you, +Honoré--my noble-hearted, foolish--boy." He spoke feebly, +and with great nervousness.</p> +<p>"Water."</p> +<p>It was given him by Aurora. He looked in her face; they could +not be sure whether he recognized her or not. He sank back, closed +his eyes, and said, more softly and dreamily, as if to himself, "I +forgive everybody. A man must die--I forgive--even the enemies--of +Louisiana."</p> +<p>He lay still a few moments, and then revived excitedly. +"Honoré! tell Professor Frowenfeld to take care of that +<i>Philippique Générale</i>. 'Tis a grand thing, +Honoré, on a grand theme! I wrote it myself in one evening. +Your Yankee Government is a failure, Honoré, a drivelling +failure. It may live a year or two, not longer. Truth will triumph. +The old Louisiana will rise again. She will get back her trampled +rights. When she does, remem'--" His voice failed, but he held up +one finger firmly by way of accentuation.</p> +<p>There was a stir among the kindred. Surely this was a turn for +the better. The doctor ought to be brought back. A little while ago +he was not nearly so strong. "Ask Honoré if the doctor +should not come." But Honoré shook his head. The old man +began again.</p> +<p>"Honoré! Where is Honoré? Stand by me, here, +Honoré; and sister?--on this other side. My eyes are very +poor to-day. Why do I perspire so? Give me a drink. You see--I am +better now; I have ceased--to throw up blood. Nay, let me talk." He +sighed, closed his eyes, and opened them again suddenly. "Oh, +Honoré, you and the Yankees--you and--all--going +wrong--education--masses--weaken--caste--indiscr'--quarrels +settl'--by affidav'--Oh! Honoré."</p> +<p>"If he would only forget," said one, in an agonized whisper, +"that <i>philippique générale</i>!"</p> +<p>Aurora whispered earnestly and tearfully to Madame Grandissime. +Surely they were not going to let him go thus! A priest could at +least do no harm. But when the proposition was made to him by his +sister, he said:</p> +<p>"No;--no priest. You have my will, Honoré,--in your iron +box. Professor Frowenfeld,"--he changed his speech to English,--"I +have written you an article on--" his words died on his lips.</p> +<p>"Joseph, son, I do not see you. Beware, my son, of the doctrine +of equal rights--a bottomless iniquity. Master and man--arch and +pier--arch above--pier below." He tried to suit the gesture to the +words, but both hands and feet were growing uncontrollably +restless.</p> +<p>"Society, Professor,"--he addressed himself to a weeping +girl,--"society has pyramids to build which make menials a +necessity, and Nature furnishes the menials all in dark uniform. +She--I cannot tell you--you will find--all in the <i>Philippique +Générale</i>. Ah! Honoré, is it--"</p> +<p>He suddenly ceased.</p> +<p>"I have lost my glasses."</p> +<p>Beads of sweat stood out upon his face. He grew frightfully +pale. There was a general dismayed haste, and they gave him a +stimulant.</p> +<p>"Brother," said the sister, tenderly.</p> +<p>He did not notice her.</p> +<p>"Agamemnon! Go and tell Jean-Baptiste--" his eyes drooped and +flashed again wildly.</p> +<p>"I am here, Agricole," said the voice of Jean-Baptiste, close +beside the bed.</p> +<p>"I told you to let--that negress--"</p> +<p>"Yes, we have let her go. We have let all of them go."</p> +<p>"All of them," echoed the dying man, feebly, with wandering +eyes. Suddenly he brightened again and tossed his arms. "Why, there +you were wrong, Jean-Baptiste; the community must be protected." +His voice sank to a murmur. "He would not take off--'you must +remem'--" He was silent. "You must remem'--those people are--are +not--white people." He ceased a moment. "Where am I going?" He +began evidently to look, or try to look, for some person; but they +could not divine his wish until, with piteous feebleness, he +called:</p> +<p>"Aurore De Grapion!"</p> +<p>So he had known her all the time.</p> +<p>Honoré's mother had dropped on her knees beside the bed, +dragging Aurora down with her.</p> +<p>They rose together.</p> +<p>The old man groped distressfully with one hand. She laid her own +in it.</p> +<p>"Honoré!</p> +<p>"What could he want?" wondered the tearful family. He was +feeling about with the other hand.</p> +<p>"Hon'--Honoré"--his weak clutch could scarcely close upon +his nephew's hand.</p> +<p>"Put them--put--put them--"</p> +<p>What could it mean? The four hands clasped.</p> +<p>"Ah!" said one, with fresh tears, "he is trying to speak and +cannot."</p> +<p>But he did.</p> +<p>"Aurora De Gra--I pledge'--pledge'--pledged--this union--to your +fa'--father--twenty--years--ago."</p> +<p>The family looked at each other in dejected amazement. They had +never known it.</p> +<p>"He is going," said Agamemnon; and indeed it seemed as though he +was gone; but he rallied.</p> +<p>"Agamemnon! Valentine! Honoré! patriots! protect the +race! Beware of the"--that sentence escaped him. He seemed to fancy +himself haranguing a crowd; made another struggle for intelligence, +tried once, twice, to speak, and the third time succeeded:</p> +<p>"Louis'--Louisian'--a--for--ever!" and lay still.</p> +<p>They put those two words on his tomb.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX</h2> +<h3>WHERE SOME CREOLE MONEY GOES</h3> +<br> +<p>And yet the family committee that ordered the inscription, the +mason who cut it in the marble--himself a sort of half-Grandissime, +half-nobody--and even the fair women who each eve of All-Saints +came, attended by flower-laden slave girls, to lay coronals upon +the old man's tomb, felt, feebly at first, and more and more +distinctly as years went by, that Forever was a trifle long for one +to confine one's patriotic affection to a small fraction of a great +country.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"And you say your family decline to accept the assistance of the +police in their endeavors to bring the killer of your uncle to +justice?" asked some <i>Américain</i> or other of 'Polyte +Grandissime.</p> +<p>"'Sir, mie fam'lie do not want to fetch him to justice!--neither +Palmyre! We are goin' to fetch the justice to them! And sir, when +we cannot do that, sir, by ourselves, sir,--no, sir! no +police!"</p> +<p>So Clemence was the only victim of the family wrath; for the +other two were never taken; and it helps our good feeling for the +Grandissimes to know that in later times, under the gentler +influences of a higher civilization, their old Spanish-colonial +ferocity was gradually absorbed by the growth of better traits. +To-day almost all the savagery that can justly be charged against +Louisiana must--strange to say--be laid at the door of the +<i>Américain</i>. The Creole character has been diluted and +sweetened.</p> +<p>One morning early in September, some two weeks after the death +of Agricola, the same brig which something less than a year before +had brought the Frowenfelds to New Orleans crossed, outward bound, +the sharp line dividing the sometimes tawny waters of Mobile Bay +from the deep blue Gulf, and bent her way toward Europe.</p> +<p>She had two passengers; a tall, dark, wasted yet handsome man of +thirty-seven or thirty-eight years of age, and a woman seemingly +some three years younger, of beautiful though severe countenance; +"very elegant-looking people and evidently rich," so the +brig-master described them,--"had much the look of some of the +Mississippi River 'Lower Coast' aristocracy." Their appearance was +the more interesting for a look of mental distress evident on the +face of each. Brother and sister they called themselves; but, if +so, she was the most severely reserved and distant sister the +master of the vessel had ever seen.</p> +<p>They landed, if the account comes down to us right, at Bordeaux. +The captain, a fellow of the peeping sort, found pastime in keeping +them in sight after they had passed out of his care ashore. They +went to different hotels!</p> +<p>The vessel was detained some weeks in this harbor, and her +master continued to enjoy himself in the way in which he had begun. +He saw his late passengers meet often, in a certain quiet path +under the trees of the Quinconce. Their conversations were low; in +the patois they used they could have afforded to speak louder; +their faces were always grave and almost always troubled. The +interviews seemed to give neither of them any pleasure. The +monsieur grew thinner than ever, and sadly feeble.</p> +<p>"He wants to charter her," the seaman concluded, "but she +doesn't like his rates."</p> +<p>One day, the last that he saw them together, they seemed to be, +each in a way different from the other, under a great strain. He +was haggard, woebegone, nervous; she high-strung, resolute,--with +"eyes that shone like lamps," as said the observer.</p> +<p>"She's a-sendin' him 'way to lew-ard," thought he. Finally the +Monsieur handed her--or rather placed upon the seat near which she +stood, what she would not receive--a folded and sealed document, +seized her hand, kissed it and hurried away. She sank down upon the +seat, weak and pale, and rose to go, leaving the document behind. +The mariner picked it up; it was directed to <i>M. Honoré +Grandissime, Nouvelle Orléans, États Unis, +Amérique</i>. She turned suddenly, as if remembering, or +possibly reconsidering, and received it from him.</p> +<p>"It looked like a last will and testament," the seaman used to +say, in telling the story.</p> +<p>The next morning, being at the water's edge and seeing a number +of persons gathering about something not far away, he sauntered +down toward it to see how small a thing was required to draw a +crowd of these Frenchmen. It was the drowned body of the f.m.c.</p> +<p>Did the brig-master never see the woman again? He always waited +for this question to be asked him, in order to state the more +impressively that he did. His brig became a regular Bordeaux +packet, and he saw the Madame twice or thrice, apparently living at +great ease, but solitary, in the rue--. He was free to relate that +he tried to scrape acquaintance with her, but failed +ignominiously.</p> +<p>The rents of Number 19 rue Bienville and of numerous other +places, including the new drug-store in the rue Royale, were +collected regularly by H. Grandissime, successor to Grandissime +Frères. Rumor said, and tradition repeats, that neither for +the advancement of a friendless people, nor even for the repair of +the properties' wear and tear, did one dollar of it ever remain in +New Orleans; but that once a year Honoré, "as instructed," +remitted to Madame--say Madame Inconnue--of Bordeaux, the +equivalent, in francs, of fifty thousand dollars. It is averred he +did this without interruption for twenty years. "Let us see: fifty +times twenty--one million dollars. That is only a <i>part</i> of +the <i>pecuniary</i> loss which this sort of thing costs +Louisiana."</p> +<p>But we have wandered.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX</h2> +<h3>"ALL RIGHT"</h3> +<br> +<p>The sun is once more setting upon the Place d'Armes. Once more +the shadows of cathedral and town-hall lie athwart the pleasant +grounds where again the city's fashion and beauty sit about in the +sedate Spanish way, or stand or slowly move in and out among the +old willows and along the white walks. Children are again playing +on the sward; some, you may observe, are in black, for Agricola. +You see, too, a more peaceful river, a nearer-seeming and greener +opposite shore, and many other evidences of the drowsy summer's +unwillingness to leave the embrace of this seductive land; the +dreamy quietude of birds; the spreading, folding, re-expanding and +slow pulsating of the all-prevailing fan (how like the unfolding of +an angel's wing is ofttimes the broadening of that little +instrument!); the oft-drawn handkerchief; the pale, cool colors of +summer costume; the swallow, circling and twittering overhead or +darting across the sight; the languid movement of foot and hand; +the reeking flanks and foaming bits of horses; the ear-piercing +note of the cicada; the dancing butterfly; the dog, dropping upon +the grass and looking up to his master with roping jaw and lolling +tongue; the air sweetened with the merchandise of the flower +<i>marchandes</i>.</p> +<p>On the levee road, bridles and saddles, whips, gigs, and +carriages,--what a merry coming and going! We look, perforce, +toward the old bench where, six months ago, sat Joseph Frowenfeld. +There is somebody there--a small, thin, weary-looking man, who +leans his bared head slightly back against the tree, his thin +fingers knit together in his lap, and his chapeau-bras pressed +under his arm. You note his extreme neatness of dress, the bright, +unhealthy restlessness of his eye, and--as a beam from the sun +strikes them--the fineness of his short red curls. It is Doctor +Keene.</p> +<p>He lifts his head and looks forward. Honoré and +Frowenfeld are walking arm-in-arm under the furthermost row of +willows. Honoré is speaking. How gracefully, in +correspondence with his words, his free arm or hand--sometimes his +head or even his lithe form--moves in quiet gesture, while the +grave, receptive apothecary takes into his meditative mind, as into +a large, cool cistern, the valued rain-fall of his friend's +communications. They are near enough for the little doctor easily +to call them; but he is silent. The unhappy feel so far away from +the happy. Yet--"Take care!" comes suddenly to his lips, and is +almost spoken; for the two, about to cross toward the Place d'Armes +at the very spot where Aurora had once made her narrow escape, draw +suddenly back, while the black driver of a volante reins up the +horse he bestrides, and the animal himself swerves and stops.</p> +<p>The two friends, though startled apart, hasten with lifted hats +to the side of the volante, profoundly convinced that one, at +least, of its two occupants is heartily sorry that they were not +rolled in the dust. Ah, ah! with what a wicked, ill-stifled +merriment those two ethereal women bend forward in the faintly +perfumed clouds of their ravishing summer-evening garb, to express +their equivocal mortification and regret.</p> +<p>"Oh! I'm so sawry, oh! Almoze runned o'--ah, ha, ha, ha!"</p> +<p>Aurora could keep the laugh back no longer.</p> +<p>"An' righd yeh befo' haivry <i>boddie</i>! Ah, ha, ha! 'Sieur +Grandissime, 'tis <i>me-e-e</i> w'ad know 'ow dad is bad, ha, ha, +ha! Oh! I assu' you, gen'lemen, id is hawful!"</p> +<p>And so on.</p> +<p>By and by Honoré seemed urging them to do something, the +thought of which made them laugh, yet was entertained as not +entirely absurd. It may have been that to which they presently +seemed to consent; they alighted from the volante, dismissed it, +and walked each at a partner's side down the grassy avenue of the +levee. It was as Clotilde with one hand swept her light robes into +perfect adjustment for the walk, and turned to take the first step +with Frowenfeld, that she raised her eyes for the merest instant to +his, and there passed between them an exchange of glance which made +the heart of the little doctor suddenly burn like a ball of +fire.</p> +<p>"Now we're all right," he murmured bitterly to himself, as, +without having seen him, she took the arm of the apothecary, and +they moved away.</p> +<p>Yes, if his irony was meant for this pair, he divined correctly. +Their hearts had found utterance across the lips, and the future +stood waiting for them on the threshold of a new existence, to +usher them into a perpetual copartnership in all its joys and +sorrows, its disappointments, its imperishable hopes, its aims, its +conflicts, its rewards; and the true--the great--the everlasting +God of love was with them. Yes, it had been "all right," now, for +nearly twenty-four hours--an age of bliss. And now, as they walked +beneath the willows where so many lovers had walked before them, +they had whole histories to tell of the tremors, the dismays, the +misconstructions and longings through which their hearts had come +to this bliss; how at such a time, thus and so; and after such and +such a meeting, so and so; no part of which was heard by alien +ears, except a fragment of Clotilde's speech caught by a small boy +in unintentioned ambush.</p> +<p>"--Evva sinze de firze nighd w'en I big-in to nurze you wid de +fivver."</p> +<p>She was telling him, with that new, sweet boldness so wonderful +to a lately accepted lover, how long she had loved him.</p> +<p>Later on they parted at the <i>porte-cochère</i>. +Honoré and Aurora had got there before them, and were +passing on up the stairs. Clotilde, catching, a moment before, a +glimpse of her face, had seen that there was something wrong; +weather-wise as to its indications she perceived an impending +shower of tears. A faint shade of anxiety rested an instant on her +own face. Frowenfeld could not go in. They paused a little within +the obscurity of the corridor, and just to reassure themselves that +everything <i>was</i> "all right," they--</p> +<p>God be praised for love's young dream!</p> +<p>The slippered feet of the happy girl, as she slowly mounted the +stair alone, overburdened with the weight of her blissful reverie, +made no sound. As she turned its mid-angle she remembered Aurora. +She could guess pretty well the source of her trouble; +Honoré was trying to treat that hand-clasping at the bedside +of Agricola as a binding compact; "which, of course, was not fair." +She supposed they would have gone into the front drawing-room; she +would go into the back. But she miscalculated; as she silently +entered the door she saw Aurora standing a little way beyond her, +close before Honoré, her eyes cast down, and the trembling +fan hanging from her two hands like a broken pinion. He seemed to +be reiterating, in a tender undertone, some question intended to +bring her to a decision. She lifted up her eyes toward his with a +mute, frightened glance.</p> +<p>The intruder, with an involuntary murmur of apology, drew back; +but, as she turned, she was suddenly and unspeakably saddened to +see Aurora drop her glance, and, with a solemn slowness whose +momentous significance was not to be mistaken, silently shake her +head.</p> +<p>"Alas!" cried the tender heart of Clotilde. "Alas! M. +Grandissime!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI</h2> +<h3>"NO!"</h3> +<br> +<p>If M. Grandissime had believed that he was prepared for the +supreme bitterness of that moment, he had sadly erred. He could not +speak. He extended his hand in a dumb farewell, when, all +unsanctioned by his will, the voice of despair escaped him in a low +groan. At the same moment, a tinkling sound drew near, and the +room, which had grown dark with the fall of night, began to +brighten with the softly widening light of an evening lamp, as a +servant approached to place it in the front drawing-room.</p> +<p>Aurora gave her hand and withdrew it. In the act the two +somewhat changed position, and the rays of the lamp, as the maid +passed the door, falling upon Aurora's face, betrayed the again +upturned eyes.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime--"</p> +<p>They fell.</p> +<p>The lover paused.</p> +<p>"You thing I'm crool."</p> +<p>She was the statue of meekness.</p> +<p>"Hope has been cruel to me," replied M. Grandissime, "not you; +that I cannot say. Adieu."</p> +<p>He was turning.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime--"</p> +<p>She seemed to tremble.</p> +<p>He stood still.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime,"--her voice was very tender,--"wad you' +horry?"</p> +<p>There was a great silence.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime, you know--teg a chair."</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment and then both sat down. The servant +repassed the door; yet when Aurora broke the silence, she spoke in +English--having such hazardous things to say. It would conceal +possible stammerings.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime--you know dad riz'n I--"</p> +<p>She slightly opened her fan, looking down upon it, and was +still.</p> +<p>"I have no right to ask the reason," said M. Grandissime. "It is +yours--not mine."</p> +<p>Her head went lower.</p> +<p>"Well, you know,"--she drooped it meditatively to one side, with +her eyes on the floor,--"'tis bick-ause--'tis bick-ause I thing in +a few days I'm goin' to die."</p> +<p>M. Grandissime said never a word. He was not alarmed.</p> +<p>She looked up suddenly and took a quick breath, as if to resume, +but her eyes fell before his, and she said, in a tone of +half-soliloquy:</p> +<p>"I 'ave so mudge troub' wit dad hawt."</p> +<p>She lifted one little hand feebly to the cardiac region, and +sighed softly, with a dying languor.</p> +<p>M. Grandissime gave no response. A vehicle rumbled by in the +street below, and passed away. At the bottom of the room, where a +gilded Mars was driving into battle, a soft note told the +half-hour. The lady spoke again.</p> +<p>"Id mague"--she sighed once more--"so strange,--sometime' I +thing I'm git'n' crezzy."</p> +<p>Still he to whom these fearful disclosures were being made +remained as silent and motionless as an Indian captive, and, after +another pause, with its painful accompaniment of small sounds, the +fair speaker resumed with more energy, as befitting the approach to +an incredible climax:</p> +<p>"Some day', 'Sieur Grandissime,--id mague me fo'gid my hage! I +thing I'm young!"</p> +<p>She lifted her eyes with the evident determination to meet his +own squarely, but it was too much; they fell as before; yet she +went on speaking:</p> +<p>"An' w'en someboddie git'n' ti'ed livin' wid 'imsev an' big'n' +to fill ole, an' wan' someboddie to teg de care of 'im an' wan' me +to gid marri'd wid 'im--I thing 'e's in love to me." Her fingers +kept up a little shuffling with the fan. "I thing I'm crezzy. I +thing I muz be go'n' to die torecklie." She looked up to the +ceiling with large eyes, and then again at the fan in her lap, +which continued its spreading and shutting. "An' daz de riz'n, +'Sieur Grandissime." She waited until it was certain he was about +to answer, and then interrupted him nervously: "You know, 'Sieur +Grandissime, id woon be righd! Id woon be de juztiz to <i>you!</i> +An' you de bez man I evva know in my life, 'Sieur Grandissime!" Her +hands shook. "A man w'at nevva wan' to gid marri'd wid noboddie in +'is life, and now trine to gid marri'd juz only to rip-ose de soul +of 'is oncl'--"</p> +<p>M. Grandissime uttered an exclamation of protest, and she +ceased.</p> +<p>"I asked you," continued he, with low-toned emphasis, "for the +single and only reason that I want you for my wife."</p> +<p>"Yez," she quickly replied; "daz all. Daz wad I thing. An' I +thing daz de rad weh to say, 'Sieur Grandissime. Bick-ause, you +know, you an' me is too hole to talg aboud dad <i>lovin'</i>, you +know. An' you godd dad grade <i>rizpeg</i> fo' me, an' me I godd +dad 'ighez rispeg fo' you; bud--" she clutched the fan and her face +sank lower still--"bud--" she swallowed--shook her head--"bud--" +She bit her lip; she could not go on.</p> +<p>"Aurora," said her lover, bending forward and taking one of her +hands. "I <i>do</i> love you with all my soul."</p> +<p>She made a poor attempt to withdraw her hand, abandoned the +effort, and looked up savagely through a pair of overflowing eyes, +demanding:</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, fo' w'y you di' n' wan' to sesso?"</p> +<p>M. Grandissime smiled argumentatively.</p> +<p>"I have said so a hundred times, in every way but in words."</p> +<p>She lifted her head proudly, and bowed like a queen.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, you see 'Sieur Grandissime, you bin meg one +mizteg."</p> +<p>"Bud 'tis corrected in time," exclaimed he, with suppressed but +eager joyousness.</p> +<p>"'Sieur Grandissime," she said, with a tremendous solemnity, +"I'm verrie sawrie; <i>mais</i>--you spogue too lade."</p> +<p>"No, no!" he cried, "the correction comes in time. Say that, +lady; say that!"</p> +<p>His ardent gaze beat hers once more down; but she shook her +head. He ignored the motion.</p> +<p>"And you will correct your answer; ah! say that, too!" he +insisted, covering the captive hand with both his own, and leaning +forward from his seat.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, 'Sieur Grandissime, you know, dad is so verrie +unegspeg'."</p> +<p>"Oh! unexpected!"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, I was thing all dad time id was Clotilde wad +you--"</p> +<p>She turned her face away and buried her mouth in her +handkerchief.</p> +<p>"Ah!" he cried, "mock me no more, Aurore Nancanou!"</p> +<p>He rose erect and held the hand firmly which she strove to draw +away:</p> +<p>"Say the word, sweet lady; say the word!"</p> +<p>She turned upon him suddenly, rose to her feet, was speechless +an instant while her eyes flashed into his, and crying out:</p> +<p>"No!" burst into tears, laughed through them, and let him clasp +her to his bosom.</p> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/gs2491.jpg" width="60%" alt=""></p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12280 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |