[Frontispiece: Yesterday, for the first time, at that same corner, hehad encountered this fair stranger and her urchin escort. ]

THE FLOWER OF THE CHAPDELAINES

BY

GEORGE W. CABLE

WITH FRONTISPIECE BY

F. C. YOHN

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1918

COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

Published March, 1918

The Flower of the Chapdelaines

I

Next morning he saw her again. 

He had left his very new law office, just around in Bienville Street, and had come but a few steps down Royal, when, at the next cornerbelow, she turned into Royal, toward him, out of Conti, coming fromBourbon. 

The same nine-year-old negro boy was at her side, as spotless in broadwhite collar and blue jacket as on the morning before, and carrying thesame droll air of consecration, awe, and responsibility. The young manenvied him. 

Yesterday, for the first time, at that same corner, he had encounteredthis fair stranger and her urchin escort, abruptly, as they were makingthe same turn they now repeated, and all in a flash had wondered whomight be this lovely apparition. Of such patrician beauty, suchelegance of form and bearing, such witchery of simple attire, and suchun-Italian yet Latin type, in this antique Creole, modernly Italianizedquarter--who and what, so early in the day, down here among the shops, where so meagre a remnant of the old high life clung on in thesebalconied upper stories--who, what, whence, whither, and wherefore?

In that flash of time she had passed, and the very liveliness of hisinterest, combined with the urchin's consecrated awe--not to mentionhis own mortifying remembrance of one or two other-day lapses from theausterities of the old street--restrained him from a backward glanceuntil he could cross the way as if to enter the great, white, latelycompleted court-house. Then both she and her satellite had vanished. 

He turned again, but not to enter the building. His watch read buthalf past eight, and his first errand of the day, unless seeing her hadbeen his first, was to go one square farther on, for a look at thewreckers tearing down the old Hotel St. Louis. As he turned, a manneat of dress and well beyond middle age made him a suave gesture. 

"Sir, if you please. You are, I think, Mr. Chester, notary public andattorney at law?"

"That is my name and trade, sir. " Evidently Mr. Geoffry Chester wasalso an American, a Southerner. 

"Pardon, " said his detainer, "I have only my business card. " Hetendered it: "Marcel Castanado, Masques et Costumes, No. 312, rueRoyale, entre Bienville et Conti. "

"I diz-ire your advice, " he continued, "on a very small matter neithernotarial, neither of the law. Yet I must pay you for that, if you canmake your charge as--as small as the matter. "

The young lawyer's own matters were at a juncture where a fee was agodsend, yet he replied:

"If your matter is not of the law I can make you no charge. "

The costumer shrugged: "Pardon, in that case I must seek elsewhere. "He would have moved on, but Chester asked:

"What kind of advice do you want if not legal?"

"Literary. "

The young man smiled: "Why, I'm not literary. "

"I think yes. You know Ovide Landry? Black man? Secon'-han' books, Chartres Street, just yonder?"

"Yes, very pleasantly, for I love old books. "

"Yes, and old buildings, and their histories. I know. You are nowgoing down, as I have just been, to see again the construction of thatold dome they are dim-olishing yonder, of the once state-house, previously Hotel St. Louis. I know. Twice a day you pass my shop. Iam compelled to see, what Ovide also has told me, that, like me and mywife, you have a passion for the _poétique_ and the _pittoresque_!"

"Yes, " Chester laughed, "but that's my limit. I've never written aline for print----"

"This writing is done, since fifty years. "

"I've never passed literary judgment on a written page and don'tsuppose I ever shall. "

"The judgment is passed. The value of the article is pronouncedgreat--by an expert amateur. "

"SHE?" the youth silently asked himself. He spoke: "Why, then whatadvice do you still want--how to find a publisher?"

"No, any publisher will jump at that. But how to so nig-otiate that heshall not be the lion and we the lamb!"

Chester smiled again: "Why, if that's the point--" he mused. The hopecame again that this unusual shopman and his wish had something to dowith _her_. 

"If that's the advice you want, " he resumed, "I think we might construeit as legal, though worth at the most a mere notarial fee. "

"And contingent on--?" the costumer prompted. 

"Contingent, yes, on the author's success. "

"Sir! I am not the author of a manuscript fifty years old!"

"Well, then, on the holder's success. You can agree to that, can'tyou?"

"'Tis agreed. You are my counsel. When will you see the manuscript?"

"Whenever you choose to leave it with me. "

The costumer's smile was firm: "Sir, I cannot permit that to pass frommy hand. "

"Oh! then have a copy typed for me. "

The Creole soliloquized: "That would be expensive. " Then to Chester:"Sir, I will tell you; to-night come at our parlor, over the shop. Iwill read you that!"

"Shall we be alone?" asked Chester, hoping his client would say no. 

"Only excepting my"--a tender brightness--"my wife!" Then a shade ofregret: "We are without children, me and my wife. "

His wife. H'mm! _She_? That amazing one who had vanished within afew yards of his bazaar of "masques et costumes"? Though to ChesterNew Orleans was still new, and though fat law-books and a slim pursekept him much to himself, he was aware that, while some Creoles grewrich, many of them, women, once rich, were being driven even to standbehind counters. Yet no such plight could he imagine of thatbewildering young--young luminary who, this second time, so out oftime, had gleamed on him from mystery's cloud. His earlier hope came athird time: "Excepting only your wife, you say? Why not also youramateur expert?"

"I am sorry, but"--the Latin shrug--"that is--that is not possible. "

"Have I ever seen your wife? She's not a tallish, slender young-----?"

"No, my wife is neither. She's never in the street or shop. She hasno longer the cap-acity. She's become so extraordinarily _un_-slenderthat the only way she can come down-stair' is backward. You'll see. Well, "--he waved--"till then--ah, a word: my close bargaining--I mustexplain you that--in confidence. 'Tis because my wife and me we areanxious to get every picayune we can get for the owners--of thatmanuscript. "

Chester thought to be shrewd: "Oh! is _she_ hard up? the owner?"

"The owners are three, " Castanado calmly said, "and two dip-end on theearnings of a third. " He bowed himself away. 

A few hours later Chester received from him a note begging indefinitepostponement of the evening appointment. Mme. Castanado had fever andprobably _la grippe_. 

II

Early one day some two weeks after the foregoing incident the younglawyer came out of his _pension francaise_, opposite his office, andstood a moment in thought. In those two weeks he had not again seenMr. Castanado. 

Once more it was scant half past eight. He looked across to thewindows of his office and of one bare third-story sleeping-room overit. Eloquent windows! Their meanness reminded him anew how definitelyhe had chosen not merely the simple but the solitary life. Yet now heturned toward Royal Street. But at the third or fourth step he facedabout toward Chartres. The distance to the courthouse was the sameeither way, and its entrances were alike on both streets. 

Thought he as he went the Chartres Street way: "If I go _one more time_by way of Royal I shall owe an abject apology, and yet to try to offerit would only make the matter worse. "

He went grimly, glad to pay this homage of avoidance which would havebeen more to his credit paid a week or so earlier. His frequentfailure to pay it had won him, each time, a glimpse of _her_ and anitching fear that prying eyes were on him inside other balconiedwindows besides those of the unslender Mme. Castanado. 

Temptation is a sly witch. Down at Conti Street, on the court-house'supper riverside corner, he paused to take in the charm of one of themost picturesque groups of old buildings in the _vieux carré_. Butthere, to gather in all the effect, one must turn, sooner or later, andinclude the upper side of Conti Street from Chartres to Royal; and asChester did so, yonder, once more, coming from Bourbon and turning fromConti into Royal, there she was again, the avoided one!

Her black cupid was at her side, tiny even for nine years. Theydisappeared conversing together. With his heart in his throat Chesterturned away, resumed his walk, and passed into the marble halls wherejustice dreamt she dwelt. Up and down one of these, little traversedso early, he paced, with a question burning in his breast, which everynew sigh of mortification fanned hotter: _Had she seen him_?--thistime? those other times? And did those Castanados suspect? Was thatwhy Mme. Castanado had the grippe, and the manuscript was yet unread?

A voice spoke his name and he found himself facing the very blackdealer in second-hand books. 

"I was yonder at Toulouse Street, " said Ovide Landry, "coming up-town, when I saw you at Conti coming down. I have another map of the oldcity for you. At that rate, Mr. Chester, you'll soon have as good acollection as the best. "

The young man was pleased: "Does it show exactly where Maspero'sExchange stood?" he asked. 

Ovide said come to the shop and see. 

"I will, to-day; at six. " Another man came up, "Ah, Mr. Castanado!How--how is your patient?"

"Madame"--the costumer smiled happily--"is once more well. I waslooking for you. You didn't pass in Royal Street this morning. "

[Ah, those eyes behind those windows behind those balconies!]

"No, I--oh! going, Landry? Good day. No, Mr. Castanado, I----"

"Madame hopes Mr. Chezter can at last, this evening, come at home forthat reading. "

"Mr. Castanado, I can't! I'm mighty sorry! My whole evening'sengaged. So is to-morrow's. May I come the next evening after? . . . Thank you. . . . Yes, at seven. Just the three of us, of course?Yes. "

III

Six o'clock found Chester in Ovide's bookshop. 

Had its shelves borne law-books, or had he not needed for law-books allhe dared spend, he might have known the surprisingly informed and refinedshopman better. Ovide had long been a celebrity. Lately a brief summaryof his career had appeared incidentally in a book, a book chiefly aboutothers, white people. "You can't write a Southern book and keep us out, "Ovide himself explained. 

Even as it was, Chester had allowed himself that odd freedom with Landrywhich Southerners feel safe in under the plate armor of their racedistinctions. Receiving his map he asked, as he looked along a shelf ortwo: "Have you that book that tells of you--as a slave? your masterletting you educate yourself; your once refusing your freedom, and yourbeing private secretary to two or three black lieutenant-governors?"

"I had a copy, " Landry said, "but I've sold it. Where did you hear ofit? From Réné Ducatel, in his antique-shop, whose folks 'tis mostlyabout?"

"Yes. An antique himself, in spirit, eh? Yet modern enough to praiseyou highly. "

"H'mm! but only for the virtues of a slave. "

Chester smiled round from the shelves: "I noticed that! I'm afraid wewhite folks, the world over, are prone to do that--with you-all. "

"Yes, when you speak of us at all. "

"Ducatel's opposite neighbor, " Chester remarked, "is an antique even moreinteresting. "

"Ah, yes! Castanado is antique only in that art spirit which the touristtrade is every day killing even in Royal Street. "

"That's the worst decay in this whole decaying quarter, " the young mansaid. 

"And in all this deluge of trade spirit, " Ovide continued, "the best dryland left of it--of that spirit of art--is----"

"Castanado's shop, I dare say. "

"Castanado's and three others in that one square you pass every daywithout discovering the fact. But that's natural; you are a busy lawyer. "

"Not so very. What are the other three?"

"First, the shop of Seraphine Alexandre, embroideries; then of ScipionBeloiseau, ornamental ironwork, opposite Mme. Seraphine and next belowDucatel--Ducatel, alas, he don't count; and third, of Placide La Porte, perfumeries, next to Beloiseau. That's all. "

"Not the watchmaker on the square above?"

"Ah! distantly he's of them: and there _was_ old Manouvrier, taxidermist;but he's gone--where the spirits of art and of worship are twin. "

Chester turned sharply again to the shelves and stood rigid. From aninner room, its glass door opened by Ovide's silver-spectacled wife, camethe little black cupid and his charge. Ah, once more what perfection inhow many points! As she returned to Ovide an old magazine, at last heheard her voice--singularly deep and serene. She thanked the bookman forhis loan and, with the child, went out. 

It disturbed the Southern youth to unbosom himself to a black man, but hesaw no decent alternative: "Landry, I had not the faintest idea that thatyoung lady was nearer than Castanado's shop!"

Ovide shook his head: "You seem yourself to forget that you are here bybusiness appointment. And what of it if you have seen her, or she seenyou, here--or anywhere?"

"Only this: that I've met her so often by pure--by chance, on that squareyou speak of, I bound for the court-house, she for I can't divinewhere--for I've never looked behind me!--that I've had to take anotherstreet to show I'm a gentleman. This very morn'--oh!--and now! here!How can I explain--or go unexplained?"

Ovide lifted a hand: "Will you leave that to my wife, so unlearned yet sowise and good? For the young lady's own sake my wife, _without_explaining, will see that you are not misjudged. "

"Good! Right! Any explanation would simply belie itself. Yes, let herdo it! But, Landry----"

"Yes?"

"For heaven's sake don't let her make me out a goody-goody. I haven'tgot this far into life without making moral mistakes, some of them huge. But in this thing--I say it only to you--I'm making none. I'm neither amarrying man, a villain, nor an ass. "

Ovide smiled: "My wife can manage that. Maybe it's good you came here. It may well be that the young lady herself would be glad if some oneexplained her to you. "

"Hoh! does an angel need an explanation?"

"I should say, in Royal Street, yes. "

"Then for mercy's sake give it! right here! you! come!" The youthlaughed. "Mercy to me, I mean. But--wait! Tell me; couldn't Castanadohave given it, as easily as you?"

"You never gave Castanado this chance. "

"How do you know that? Oh, never mind, go ahead--full speed. "

"Well, she's an orphan, of a fine old family----"

"Obviously! Creole, of course, the family?"

"Yes, though always small in Louisiana. Creole except one New Englandgrandmother. But for that one she would not have been here just now. "

"Humph! that's rather obscure but--go on. "

"Her parents left her without a sou or a relation except two maiden auntsas poor as she. "

"Antiques?"

"Yes. She earns their living and her own. "

"You don't care to say how?"

"She wouldn't like it. 'Twould be to say where. "

"She seems able to dress exquisitely. "

"Mr. Chester, a woman would see with what a small outlay that is done. She has that gift for the needle which a poet has for the pen. "

"Ho! that's _charmingly_ antique. But now tell me how having a Yankeegrandmother caused her to drop in here just now. Your logic's dim. "

"You are soon to go to Castanado's to see that manuscript story, are younot?"

"Oh, is it a story? Have you read it?"

"Yes, I've read it, 'tis short. They wanted my opinion. And 'tis astory, though true. "

"A story! Love story? very absorbing?"

"No, it is not of love--except love of liberty. Whether 'twill absorbyou or no I cannot say. Me it absorbed because it is the story of someof my race, far from here and in the old days, trying, in the old vainway, to gain their freedom. "

"Has--has mademoiselle read it?"

"Certainly. It is her property; hers and her two aunts'. Those two, they bought it lately, of a poor devil--drinking man--for a dollar. Theyhad once known his mother, from the West Indies. "

"He wrote it, or his mother?"

"The mother, long ago. 'Tis not too well done. It absorbs mademoisellealso, but that is because 'tis true. When I saw that effect I told herof a story like it, yet different, and also seeming true, in this oldmagazine. And when I began to tell it she said, 'It _is_ true! MyVermont _grand'mère_ wrote that! It happened to her!'"

"How queer! And, Landry, I see the connection. Your magazine being oneof a set, you couldn't let her read it anywhere but here. "

"I have to keep my own rules. "

"Let me see it. . . . Oh, now, why not? What was the use of either ofus explaining if--if----?"

But Ovide smilingly restored the thing to its stack. "Now, " he said, "'tis Mr. Chester's logic that fails. " Yet as he turned to a customer helet Chester take it down. 

"My job requires me, " the youth said, "to study character. Let's seewhat a _grand'mère_ of a '_tite-fille_, situated so and so, will do. "

Ovide escorted his momentary customer to the sidewalk door. As hereturned, Chester, rolling map and magazine together, said:

"It's getting dark. No, don't make a light, it's your closing time andI've a strict engagement. Here's a deposit for this magazine; a fifty. It's all I have--oh, yes, take it, we'll trade back to-morrow. You mustkeep your own rules and I must read this thing before I touch my bed. "

"Even the first few lines absorb you?"

"No, far from it. Look here. " Chester read out: "'_Now, Maud, ' said myuncle_--Oh, me! Landry, if the tale's true why that old story-book pose?"

"It may be that the writer preferred to tell it as fiction, and that onlysomething in me told me 'tis true. Something still tells me so. "

"'_Now, Maud_, '" Chester smilingly thought to himself when, the evening'slater engagement being gratifyingly fulfilled, he sat down with thestory. "And so you were grand'mère to our Royal Street miracle. And youhad a Southern uncle! So had I! though yours was a planter, mine alawyer, and yours must have been fifty years the older. Well, '_Now, Maud_, ' for my absorption!"

It came. Though the tale was unamazing amazement came. The four chiefcharacters were no sooner set in motion than Chester dropped the pamphletto his knee, agape in recollection of a most droll fact a year or twoold, which now all at once and for the first time arrested his attention. He also had a manuscript! That lawyer uncle of his, saying as he sparedhim a few duplicate volumes from his law library, "Burn that if you don'twant it, " had tossed him a fat document indorsed: "_Memorandum of anEarly Experience_. " Later the nephew had glanced it over, but, like"Maud's" story, its first few lines had annoyed his critical sense and hehad never read it carefully. The amazing point was that "_Now, Maud_"and this "_Memorandum_" most incredibly--with a ridiculous nicety--fittedeach other. 

He lifted the magazine again and, beginning at the beginning a thirdtime, read with a scrutiny of every line as though he studied a witness'sdeposition. And this was what he read:

IV

THE CLOCK IN THE SKY

"Now, Maud, " said uncle jovially as he, aunt, and I drove into theconfines of their beautiful place one spring afternoon of 1860, "don'tforget that to be too near a thing is as bad for a good view of it asto be too far away. "

I was a slim, tallish girl of scant sixteen, who had never seen aslaveholder on his plantation, though I had known these two for years, and loved them dearly, as guests in our Northern home before it wasbroken up by the death of my mother. Father was an abolitionist, andyet he and they had never had a harsh word between them. If thegeneral goodness of those who do some particular thing were any proofthat that particular thing is good to do, they would have convinced me, without a word, that slaveholding was entirely right. But they werenot trying to do any such thing. "Remember, " continued my uncle, smiling round at me, "your dad's trusting you not to bring back ourhonest opinion--of anything--in place of your own. "

"Maud, " my aunt hurried to put in, for she knew the advice I had justheard was not the kind I most needed, "you're going to have for yourown maid the blackest girl you ever saw. "

"And the best, " added my uncle; "she's as good as she is black. "

"She's no common darky, that Sidney, " said aunt. "She'll keep you busyanswering questions, my dear, and I say now, you may tell her anythingshe wants to know; we give you perfect liberty; and you may be just asfree with Hester; that's her mother; or with her father, Silas. "

"We draw the line at Mingo, " said uncle. 

"And who is Mingo?" I inquired. 

"Mingo? he's her brother; a very low and trailing branch of the familytree. "

As we neared the house I was told more of the father and mother; theirsweet content, their piety, their diligence. "If we lived in town, where there's better chance to pick up small earnings, " remarked uncle, "those two and Sidney would have bought their freedom by now, andMingo's too. Silas has got nearly enough to buy his own, as it is. "

Silas, my aunt explained, was a carpenter. "He hands your uncle somuch a week; all he can make beyond that he's allowed to keep. " Thecarriage stopped at the door; half a dozen servants came, smiling, andI knew Sidney and Hester at a glance, they were so finely differentfrom their fellows. 

That night the daughter and I made acquaintance. She was eighteen, tall, lithe and as straight as an arrow. She had not one of thephysical traits that so often make her race uncomely to our eyes; evenher nose was good; her very feet were well made, her hands were slimand shapely, the fingers long and neatly jointed, and there was nothinginky in her amazing blackness, her red blood so enriched it. Yet shewas as really African in her strong, eager mind as in her color, andthe English language, on her tongue, was like a painter's palette andbrushes in the hands of a monkey. Her first question to me after mylast want was supplied came cautiously, after a long gaze at my lightedlamp, from a seat on the floor. "Miss Maud, when was de conwention o'coal-oil 'scuvvud?" And to her good night she added, in allusion to myeventual return to the North, "I hope it be a long time afo' you makedat repass!"

At the next bedtime she began on me with the innocent question of myfavorite flower, but I had not answered three other questions beforeshe had placed me where I must either say I did not believe in theright to hold slaves, or must keep silence; and when I kept silence ofcourse she knew. For a long moment she dropped her eyes, and then, with a soft smile, asked if I would tell her some Bible stories, preferably that of "Moses in de boundaries o' Egyp'. "

She listened in gloating silence, rarely interrupting; but at thewords, "Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, 'Let my people go, '" theresponse, "Pra-aise Gawd!" rose from her lips in such volume that shethrew her hands to her mouth. After that she spoke only soft queries, but they grew more and more significant, and I soon saw that hersupposed content was purely a pious endurance, and that her soul feltbondage as her body would have felt a harrow. So I left the fugitivesof Egyptian slavery under the frown of the Almighty in the wildernessof Sin; Sidney was trusting me; uncle and aunt were trusting me; andbetween them I was getting into a narrow corner. After a meditativesilence my questioner asked:

"Miss Maud, do de Bible anywhuz capitulate dat Moses aw Aaron awJoshaway aw Cable _buy_ his freedom--wid money?"

Her manner was childlike, yet she always seemed to come up out of deepthought when she asked a question; she smiled diffidently until thereply began to come, then took on a reverential gravity, and as soon asit was fully given sank back into thought. "Miss Maud, don't youreckon dat ef Moses had a-save' up money enough to a-boughtened hisfreedom, dat'd a-been de wery sign mos' pleasin' to Gawd dat he 'uzhighly fitten to be sot free widout paying?" To that puzzle she waitedfor no answer beyond the distress I betrayed, but turned to mattersless speculative, and soon said good night. 

On the third evening--my! If I could have given all the topography ofthe entire country between uncle's plantation and my native city on themargin of the Great Lakes, with full account of its every natural andsocial condition, her questions would have wholly gathered them in. She asked if our climate was very hard on negroes; what clothing wewore in summer, and how we kept from freezing in midwinter; aboutwages, the price of food, what crops were raised, and what the"patarolers" did with a negro when they caught one at night without apass. 

She made me desperate, and when the fourth night saw her crouched on myfloor it found me prepared; I plied her with questions from start tofinish. She yielded with a perfect courtesy; told of the poor lot ofthe few free negroes of whom she knew, and of the time-serving andshifty indolence, the thievishness, faithlessness, and unaspiringtorpidity of "some niggehs"; and when I opened the way for her to speakof uncle and aunt she poured forth their praises with an ardor thatbrought her own tears. I asked her if she believed she could ever behappy away from them. 

She smiled with brimming eyes: "Why, I dunno, Miss Maud; whatsomevehcome, and whensomeveh, and howsomeveh de Lawd sen' it, ef us feels hisahm und' us, us ought to be 'shame' not to be happy, oughtn't us?" Allat once she sprang half up: "I tell you de Lawd neveh gi'n no niggeh derights to snuggle down anywhuz an' fo'git de auction-block!"

As suddenly the outbreak passed, yet as she settled down again herexaltation still showed through her fond smile. "You know what datinqui'ance o' yone bring to my 'memb'ance? Dass ow ole Canaan hymn----

 "'O I mus' climb de stony hill Pas' many a sweet desiah, De flow'ry road is not fo' me, I follows cloud an' fiah. '"

After she was gone I lay trying so to contrive our next conversationthat it should not flow, as all before it had so irresistibly done, into that one deep channel of her thoughts which took in everythingthat fell upon her mind, as a great river drinks the rains of all itsvalleys. Presently the open window gave me my cue: the stars! theunvexed and unvexing stars, that shone before human wrongs ever began, and that will be shining after all human wrongs are ended--our talkshould be of them. 

V

At the supper-table on the following evening I became convinced ofsomething which I had felt coming for two or three days, wondering thewhile whether Sidney did not feel the same thing. When we rose auntdrew me aside and with caressing touches on my brow and temples saidshe was sorry to be so slow in bringing me into social contact with theyoung people of the neighboring plantations, but that uncle, on hisarrival at home, had found a letter whose information had kept him, andher as well, busy every waking hour since. "And this evening, " shecontinued, "we can't even sit down with you around the parlor lamp. Can you amuse yourself alone, dear, or with Sidney, while your uncleand I go over some pressing matters together?"

Surely I could. "Auntie, was the information--bad news?"

"It wasn't good, my dear; I may tell you about it to-morrow. "

"Hadn't I better go back to father at once?"

"Oh, my child, not for our sake; if you're not too lonesome we'd ratherkeep you. Let me see; has Mingo ever danced for you? Why, tell Sidneyto make Mingo come dance for you. "

Mingo came; his leaps, turns, postures, steps, and outcries were a mostlaughable wonder, and I should have begged for more than I did, but Isaw that it was a part of Sidney's religion to disapprove the dance. 

"Sidney, " I said, "did you ever hear of the great clock in the sky?Yes, there's one there; it's made all of stars. " We were at the footof some veranda steps that faced the north, and as she and Mingo wereabout to settle down at my feet I said if they would follow me to thetop of the flight I would tell this marvel: what the learned believedthose eternal lamps to be; why some were out of view three-fourths ofthe night, others only half, others not a quarter; how a very few neversank out of sight at all except for daylight or clouds, and yet wentround and round with all the others; and why I called those the clockof heaven; which gained, each night, four minutes, and only four, onthe time we kept by the sun. 

"Pra-aise Gawd!" murmured Sidney. "Miss Maud, please hol' on tellMingo run' fetch daddy an' mammy; dey don't want dat sto'y f'om mesecon' haynded!" Mingo darted off and we waited. "Miss Maud, what dewhite folks mean by de nawth stah? Is dey sich a stah as de nawthstah?"

I tried to explain that since all this seeming movement of the starsaround us was but our own daily and yearly turning, there wouldnecessarily be two opposite points on our earth which would never moveat all, and that any star directly in line with those two points wouldseem as still as they. 

"Like de p'int o' de spin'le on de spinnin'-wheel, Miss Maud? Oh, yass, I b'lieve I un'stand dat; I un'stan' it some. "

I showed her the north star, and told her how to find it; and then Itook from my watch-guard a tiny compass and let her see how it foreverpicked out from among all the stars of heaven that one small light, andheld quiveringly to it. She hung over it with ecstatic sighs. "Do it_see_ de stah, Miss Maud, like de wise men o' de Eas' see de stah o'Jesus?"

I tried to make plain the law it was obeying. 

"And do it p'int dah dess de same in de broad day, an' all daylong?--Pra-aise Gawd! And do it p'int dah in de rain, an' in de stawmywin' a-fulfillin' of his word, when de ain't a single stah admissiblein de ske-eye?--De Lawd's na-ame be pra-aise'!" Her father, mother, and brother were all looking at it with her, now, and she glanced fromone to another with long heavings of rapture. 

"Miss Maud, " said Silas, in a subdued voice, "dat little trick mus' 'a'cos' you a mint o' money. "

"Silas, " put in Hester, "you know dass not a pullite question!" Butshe was ravening for its answer, and I said I had bought it fortwenty-five cents. They laughed with delight. Yet, when I toldSidney she might have it, her thanks were but two words, which her lipsseemed to drop unconsciously while she gazed on the trinket. 

They all sat down on the steps nearest below me, and presently, beginning where I had begun with Sidney, I went on to point out thepolar constellations and to relate the age-worn story of Cepheus andCassiopeia, Andromeda and the divine Perseus. 

"Lawd, my Lawd !" whispered the mother, "was dey--was dey colo'd?"

I said two of them were king and queen of Ethiopia, and a third wastheir daughter. 

"Chain' to de rock, an' yit sa-ave at las'!" exclaimed Sidney. 

While her husband and children still gazed at the royal stars, Hesterspoke softly to me again. "Miss Maud, dass a tryin' sawt o' sto'y totell to a bunch o' po' niggehs; did you dess make dat up--fo' us?"

"Why, Hester, " I said, "that was an old, old story before this countrywas ever known to white folks, or black, " and the eyes of all four wereon me as the daughter asked: "Ain't it in de Bi-ible?"

As all but Sidney bade me good night, I heard her say; "I don' care, Ib'lieb dat be'n in de Bible an' git drap out by mista-ake!"

In my room she grew queerly playful, and continued so until she haddrawn off my shoes and stockings. But then abruptly, she took my feetin her slim black hands, and with eyes lifted tenderly to mine, said:"How bu'ful 'pon de mountain is dem wha' funnish good tidin's!" Sheleaned her forehead on my insteps: "Us bleeged to paht some day, MissMaud. "

I made a poor effort to lift her, but she would not be displaced. "Cayn't no two people count fo' sho' on stayin' togetheh al'ays in disva-ain worl', " and all at once I found my face in my hands and the saltdrops searching through my fingers; Sidney was kissing my feet andwetting them with her tears. 

At close of the next day, a Sabbath, my uncle and aunt called all theirservants around the front steps of the house and with tears more bitterthan any of Sidney's or mine, told them that by the folly of others, far away, they had lost their whole fortune at one stroke and must partwith everything, and with them, by sale. Their dark hearers wept withthem, and Silas, Hester, and Sidney, after the rest had gone back tothe quarters, offered the master and mistress, through many a quaintlymisquoted scripture, the consolations of faith. 

"I wish we had set you free, Silas, " said uncle, "you and yours, whenwe could have done it. Your mistress and I are going to town to-morrowsolely to get somebody to buy you, all four, together. "

"Mawse Ben, " cried the slave, with strange earnestness, "don't you dodat! Don't you was'e no time dat a-way! You go see what you cansa-ave fo' you-all an' yone!"

"For the creditors, you mean, Silas, " said my aunt; "that's done. "

Hester had a question. "Do it all go to de credito's anyhow, Miss'Liza, no matteh how much us bring?" and when aunt said yes, Sidneymurmured to her mother, "I tol' you dat. " I wondered when she had toldher. 

Uncle and aunt tried hard to find one buyer for the four, but failed;nobody who wanted the other three had any use for Mingo. It was afternightfall when they came dragging home. "Now don't you fret one bit'bout dat, Mawse Ben, " exclaimed Sidney, with a happy heroism in hereyes that I remembered afterward. "'De Lawd is perwide!'"

"Strange, " said my aunt to uncle and me aside, smiling in pity, "howslight an impression disaster makes on their minds!" and that too Iremembered afterward. 

As soon as we were alone in my chamber, Sidney and I, she asked me totell her again of the clock in the sky, and at the end of her serviceand of my recital she drew me to my window and showed me how promptlyshe could point out the pole-star at the centre of the clock's vastdial, although at our right a big moon was leaving the tree tops andflooding the sky with its light. Toward this she turned, and liftingan arm with the reverence of a priestess said, in impassioned monotone:

 "'De moon shine full at His comman' An' all de stahs obey. '"

She kissed my hand as she added good-by. "Why, Sidney!" I laughed, "you mean good night, don't you?"

She bent low, tittered softly, and then, with a swift return to herbeautiful straightness, said: "But still, Miss Maud, who eveh know whendey say good night dat it ain't good-by?" She fondled my hand betweenher two as she backed away, kissed it fervently again, and was gone. 

When I awoke my aunt stood in broad though sunless daylight at thebedside, with the waking cup of coffee which it was Sidney's wont tobring. I started from the pillow. "Oh! what--who--wh'--where'sSidney? Why--how long has it been raining?"

"It began at break of day, " she replied, adding pensively, "thank God. "

"Oh! were we in such bad need of rain?"

"_They_ were--precisely when it came. Rain never came straighter fromheaven. "

"They?"--I stared. 

"Yes; Silas and Hester--and Sidney--and Mingo. They must have startedsoon after moonrise, and had the whole bright night, with its blackshadows, for going. "

"For going where, auntie; going where?"

"Then the rain came in God's own hour, " she continued, as if wholly toherself, "and washed out their trail. "

I sprang from the bed. "Aunt 'Liza!"

"Yes, Maud, they've run away, and if only they may _get_ away. God bepraised!"

Of course, I cried like an infant. I threw myself upon her bosom. "Oh, auntie, auntie, I'm afraid it's my fault! But when I tell you howfar I was from meaning it----"

"Don't tell me a word, my child; I wish it were my fault; I'd like tobe in your shoes. And, I don't care how right slavery is, I'll neverown a darky again!"

One day some two months after, at home again with father. Just as Iwas leaving the house on some errand, Sidney--ragged, wet, andbedraggled as a lost dog--sprang into my arms. When I had got herreclothed and fed I eagerly heard her story. Three of the four hadcome safely through; poor Mingo had failed; if I ever tell of him itmust be at some other time. In the course of her tale I asked aboutthe compass. 

"Dat little trick?" she said fondly. "Oh, yass'm, it wah de salvationo' de Lawd 'pon cloudy nights; but time an' ag'in us had to sepa'ate, 'llowin' fo' to rejine togetheh on de bank o' de nex' creek, an' which, de Lawd a-he'pin' of us, h-it al'ays come to pass; an' so, afteh all, Miss Maud, de one thing what stan' us de bes' frien' night 'pon night, next to Gawd hisse'f, dat wah his clock in de ske-eye. "

VI

"Landry, " Chester said next day, bringing back the magazine barely halfan hour after the book-shop had reopened, "that's a true story!"

"Ah, something inside tells you?"

"No need! You remember this, near the end? '_Poor Mingo had failed[to escape]; if I ever tell of him it must be at another time_. 'Landry, it's so absurd that I hardly have the face to say it; I'vegot--ha-ha-ha!--I've got a manuscript! and it fills that gap!" Thespeaker whipped out the "Memorandum"; "Here's the story, by my ownuncle, of how the three got over the border and how Mingo failed. I'dtotally forgotten I had it. I disliked its beginning far more than Idid 'Maud's' yesterday. For I hate masks and costumes as much as Mr. Castanado loves them; and a practical joke--which is what the storybegins with, in costume, though it soon leaves it behind--nauseates me. Comical situation it makes for me, this 'Memorandum, ' doesn'tit--turning up this way?"

Ovide replied meditatively: "To lend it, even to me, would seem asthough you sought----"

"It would put me in a false light! I don't like false lights. "

"It would mask and costume you. "

"Why, not so badly as if I were really in society; as, you know, I'mnot! The only place where any man, but especially a society man, canproperly seek a girl's society is in society. The more he's worthy tomeet her, the more hopelessly--I needn't say hopelessly, butcompletely--he's cut off from meeting her any other way. Isn't that agay situation? Ha-ha-ha!"

"You would probably move much in society, even Creole society, withoutmeeting mademoiselle; she has less time for it than you. "

"Is that so?"

Cupid, the evening before, had carried a flat, square parcel like ashop's account-books to be written up under the home lamp. Staring atLandry, Chester rather dropped the words than spoke them: "Think of it!The awful pity! For the like of her! Of her! Why, how on earth--?No, don't tell! I know what I'd think of any other man following inher wake and asking questions while hard fortune writes her history. Agirl like her, Landry, has no business with a history!"

"Mr. Chester. "

"Yes?"

"Has that 'Memorandum' never been printed? I can find out for you, in_Poole's Index_. "

"Do it! It's good enough, and it's named as if to be printed. See?'The Angel of----'"

"Then why not have Mr. Castanado, while selecting a publisher formademoiselle's manuscript, select for both?"

Chester shone: "Why--why, happy thought! I'll consider that, indeedI will! Well, good mor'----"

"Mr. Chester. "

"Well?"

"Why did you want that new book yesterday?"

"I've met that nice old man the book calls 'the judge, ' and he's coaxedme to break my rules and dine with him, at his home uptown, to-night. "

"I'm glad. Madame, his wife, was my young mistress when I was a slave. I wish her granddaughter and his grandson--they also are married--werenot over in the war--Red Cross. You'd like them--and they would likeyou. "

"Do they know mademoiselle?"

"Indeed, yes! They are the best of her very few friends. But--theAtlantic rolls between. "

Chester went out. In the rear door Ovide's wife appeared, knitting. "Any close-ter?" she asked over her silver-bowed spectacles. 

"Some, " he said, taking down _Poole's Index_. 

She came to his side and they placidly conversed. As she began toleave him, "No, " she said, "we kin wish, but we mustn' meddle. All anyof us want' or got any rights to want is to see 'em on speakin' terms. F'om dat on, hands off. Leave de rest to de fitness o' things, deeverlast'n' fitness o' things!"

VII

At the Castanados', the second evening after, Chester was welcomed intoa specially pretty living-room. But he found three other visitors. Madame, seated on a sort of sofa for one, made no effort to rise. Herface, for all its breadth, was sweet in repose and sweeter when shespoke or smiled. Her hands were comparatively small and the play ofher vast arms was graceful as she said to a slim, tallish, comely womanwith an abundance of soft, well-arranged hair:

"Seraphine, allow me to pres-ent Mr. Chezter. "

She explained that this Mme. Alexandre was her "neighbor of the nextdoor, " and Chester remembered her sign: "Laces and Embroideries. "

"Scipion, " said Castanado to a short, swarthy, broad-bearded man, "Ihave the honor to make you acquaint' with my friend Mr. Chezter. "

Chester pressed the enveloping hand of "S. Beloiseau, Artisan inOrnamental Iron-work. "

"Also, Mr. Chezter, Mr. Rene Ducatel; but with him you are alreadyacquaint', I think, eh?"

Chester shook hands with a small, dapper, early-gray, superdignifiedman, recalling his sign: "Antiques in Furniture, Glass, Bronze, Plate, China, and Jewelry. " M. Ducatel seemed to be already taking leave. His "anceztral 'ome, " he said, was far up-town; he had dropped insolely to borrow--showing it--the _Courrier des Etats-Unis_. 

That journal, Castanado remarked to Chester as at a corner table hepoured him a glass of cordial, brought the war, the trenches, the poiluand the boche closer than any other they knew. Beloiseau and Mme. Alexandre, he softly explained, had come in quite unlooked-for todiscuss the great strife and might depart at any moment. Then thereading!

But Chester himself interested those two and they stayed. When he saidthat Beloiseau's sidewalk samples had often made him covet some excusefor going in and seeing both the stock and the craftsman, "That wasexcuse ab-undant!" was the prompt response, and Castanado put in:

"Scipion he'd rather, always, a non-buying connoisseur than a buyingPhilistine. "

"Come any day! any hour!" said Beloiseau. 

Presently all five were talking of the surviving poetry of bothartistic and historic Royal Street. "Twenty year' ag-o, " said theironworker, "looking down-street from my shop, there was not a buildingin sight without a romantic story. My God! for example, that Hotel St. Louis!"

Chester--"had heard one or two of its episodes only the evening before, at that up-town dinner, from a fine old down-town Creole, a fellowguest, with whom he was to dine the next week. "

"Aha-a-a! precizely ac-rozz the street from Mme. Alexandre!" said thehostess. "M'sieu' et Madame De l'Isle! Now I detec' that!"

"Have they no son?--or--or daughter?" he asked. 

"Not any, " Mme. Alexandre broke in with a significant sparkle; "juz'the two al-lone. "

"They live over my shop, " Beloiseau said. "You muz' know that doublegate nex' adjoining me. "

"Oh, that lovely piece of ironwork? I took that for a part of yourestablishment. "

"I have only the uze of it with them. My _grandpère_ he made thosegate', for the father of Mme. De l'Isle, same year he made those greatopenwork gate' of Hotel St. Louis. You speak of episode'! One summer, renovating that hotel, they paint' those gate'--of iron openwork--inimitation--_mon Dieu_!--of marbl'! _Ciel_! the tragedy of _that_!Yes, they live over me; in the whole square, both side' the street, last remaining of the 'igh society. "

When Mme. Alexandre finally rose to go, and had kissed the upturnedbrow of her hostess, she went by an inner door and rear balcony. Andwhen Chester and Beloiseau began to take leave their host said toChester:

"You dine with M. De l'Isle Tuesday. Well, if you'll come again herethe next evening we'll attend to--that business. "

"Wouldn't that be losing time? I can just as well come sooner. "

"No, " said madame, "better that Wednesday. "

Chester was nettled, but he recovered when the ironworker walked withhim around into Bienville Street and at his _pension_ door lamented thepathetic decay of the useful arts and of artistic taste, since theadvent of castings and machinery. The pair took such liking for eachother's tenets of beauty, morals, art, and life that Chester walkedback to the De l'Isle gates, and their parting at last was at thecorner half-way between their two domiciles. 

Meanwhile madame was saying to her spouse, "Aha! you see? The power ofprayer! Ab-ove all, for the he'pless! By day the fo' corner' of myroom, by night the fo' post' of my bed, are----"

"Yes, _chérie_, I know. "

"Yes, they're to me for Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John! Since threedays every time I heard the cathedral clock I've prayed to them; andnow----!"

"Well, my angel? Now?"

"Well, now! He's dining there next Tuesday!"

"Truly. Yet even now we can only hope----"

"Ah, no! Me, I can also continue to supplicate! From now tillWednesday, every time that clock, I'll pray those four _évangélistes_!and Thursday you'll see--the power of prayer! Oh, 'tis like _magique_, that power of prayer!"

VIII

On Tuesday evening Chester, a country boy yet now and then, was firstat the De l'Isles'. 

Madame lauded him. "Punctualitie! tha'z the soul of pleasure!" Shehad begun to explain why her other guests included but one young lady, when here they came. First, the Prieurs, a still handsome Creolecouple whom he never met again. Then that youthful-aged up-town pair, the Thorndyke-Smiths. And last--while Smith held Chester captive totell him he knew his part of Dixie, having soldiered there in the CivilWar--the one young lady, Mlle. Chapdelaine. As Chester turned towardher she turned away, but her back view was enough to startle him. 

"Aline, " the hostess began as she brought them face to face, butwhatever she said more might as well have been a thunderbolt throughthe roof. For Aline Chapdelaine was SHE. 

They went out together. What a stately dining-room! What carvings!What old china and lace on the board, under what soft, richillumination! The Prieurs held the seats of honor. Chester was on thehostess's left. Mademoiselle sat between him and Mr. Smith. It wouldbe pleasant to tell with what poise the youth and she dropped intoconversation, each intensely mindful--intensely aware that the otherwas mindful--of that Conti Street corner, of Ovide's shop, and of "TheClock in the Sky, " and both alike hungry to know how much each had beentold about the other. Calmly they ignored all earlier encounter andentered into acquaintance on the common ground of the poetry of thenarrow region of decay in which this lovely home lay hid "like a lostjewel. "

"Ah, not quite lost yet, " the girl protested. 

"No, " he conceded, "not while the poetry remains, " and Smith, on herother hand, said:

"Not while this cluster of shops beneath us is kept by those who nowkeep them. "

"My faith!" the hostess broke in, "to real souls 'tis they are thewonder--and the _poésie_--and the jewels! Ask Aline!"

"Ask me, " Chester said, as if for mademoiselle's rescue; "I discoveredthem only last week. "

"And then also, " quietly said Aline, "ask me, for I did not discoverthem only last week. "

M. Prieur joining in enabled Chester to murmur: "May I ask yousomething?"

"You need not. You would ask if I knew you had discovered them--M. Castanado and the rest. "

"And you would answer?"

"That I knew they had discovered you. "

"Discovered, you mean, my spiritual substance?"

"Yes, your spiritual substance. That's a capital expression, Mr. Chester, your 'spiritual substance. ' I must add that to my English. "

"Your English is wonderfully correct. May I ask something else?"

"I can answer without. Yes, I know where you're going to-morrow andfor what; to read that old manuscript. Mr. Chester, that otherstory--of my _grand'mére_, 'Maud'; how did you like that?"

"It left me in love with your _grand'mére_. "

"Notwithstanding she became what they used to call--you know the word. "

"Yes, 'nigger-stealer. ' How did you ever add that to your English?"

"My father _was_ one. Right here in Royal Street. Hotel St. Louis. Else he might never have married my--that's too long to tell here. "

"May I not hear it soon, at your home?"

"Assuredly. Sooner or later. My aunts they are born raconteurs. "

"Oh! your aunts. Hem! Do you know? I had an uncle who once was yourgrandfather's sort of robber, though a Southerner born and bred. "

"Yes, Ovide's wife told me. Will you permit me a question?"

"No, " laughed Chester, "but I can answer it. Yes. Those four poorrunaways to whom your sweet Maud showed the clock in the sky were thesame four my uncle helped on--oh, you've not heard it, and it also istoo long. I can lend you his 'Memorandum' if you'll have it. "

She hesitated. "N-no, " she said. "Ah, no! I couldn't bear thatresponsibility! Listen; Mr. Smith is going to tell a war story of thecity. "

But no, that gentleman's story was yet another too long for the momenteven when the men were left to their cigars. Instead he and Chestermade further acquaintance. When they returned to the ladies, "I wantyou to talk with my wife, " said Mr. Smith, and Chester obeyed. Yetsoon he was at mademoiselle's side again and she was saying in adropped voice:

"To-morrow when you're at the Castanados' to read, so privately, wouldyou be willing for Mme. De l'Isle to be there--just madame alone?"

Oh, but men are dull! "I'd be honored!" he said. "They can modify theprivacy as they please. " Oh, but men are dull! There he had to giveplace to M. Prieur and presently accepted some kind of socialinvitation, seeing no way out of it, from the Smiths. So ended theevening. Mlle. Chapdelaine was taken to her home, "close by, " as shesaid, in the Prieurs' carriage. 

"They are juz' arround in Bourbon Street, those Chapdelaines, " said theDe l'Isles to Chester, last to go. "Y'ought to see their li'l'flower-garden. Like those two aunt' that maintain it, 'tis unique. Y'ought to see that--and them. "

"I have mademoiselle's permission, " he replied. 

"Ah, well, then!--ha, ha!" The pair exchanged a smile which seemed tothe parting guest to say: "After all he's not so utterly deficient!"

IX

Again the Castanados' dainty parlor, more dainty than ever. No onethere was in evening dress, though with its privacy "modified as theCastanados pleased, " it had gathered a company of seven. 

Chester, not yet come, would make an eighth. Madame was in her specialchair. And here, besides her husband, were both M. And Mme. De l'Isle, Mme. Alexandre and Scipion Beloiseau. The seventh was M. PlacideDubroca, perfumer; a man of fifty or so, his black hair and mustacheinclined to curl and his eyes spirited yet sympathetic. Just entered, he was telling how consumed with regret his wife was, to be keptaway--by an old promise to an old friend to go with her to thatwonderful movie, "Les Trois Mousquetaires, " when Chester came in andalmost at once a general debate on Mlle. Chapdelaine's manuscript wasin full coruscation. 

"In the firs' place, " one said--though the best place he could seizewas the seventeenth--"firs' place of all--competition! My frien's, wecannot hope to nig-otiate with that North in the old manner which weare proud, a few of us yet, to _con_-tinue in the rue Royale. Everypublisher----"

Mme. Castanado had a quotation that could not wait: "We got to be 'wiselike snake' an' innocent like pigeon'!'"

"Precizely! Every publisher approach' mus' know he's bidding agains'every other! Maybe they are honess men, and _if_ so they'll berij-oice'!"

A non-listener was trying to squeeze in: "And sec'--and sec'--andsecon' thing--if not firs'--is guarantee! They mus' pay so much profitin advance. Else it be better to publish without a publisher, and withadvertisement' front and back! Tiffany, Royal Baking-Powder, IvorySoap it Float'! Ten thousand dolla' the page that _Ladies' 'OmeJournal_ get', and if we get even ten dolla' the page--I know a manwhat make that way three hundred dolla'!"

"He make that net or gross?" some one asked. 

"Ah! I think, not counting his time _sol_-iciting thoseadvertisement', he make it _nearly_ net. "

Chester made show of breaking in and three speakers at once begged himto proceed: "How much of a book, " he asked Mme. Castanado, "will themanuscript make? How long is it?"

She looked falteringly to her husband: "'Tis about a foot long, nineinch' wide. Marcel, pazz that to monsieur. "

The husband complied. Chester counted the lines of one of the pages. Madame watched him anxiously. 

"Tha'z too wide?" she inquired. 

"It isn't long enough to make a book. To do that would take--oh--seventimes as much. "

"Ah!" Madame's voice grew in sweetness as it rose: "So much thebetter! So much the more room for those advertisement'!--and picture'!"

"And portrait of mademoiselle!" said Mme. Alexandre, and Mme. De l'Islesmiled assent. 

Yet a disappointed silence followed, presently broken by the perfumer:"All the same, what is the matter to make it a pamphlet?"

Beloiseau objected: "No, then you compete aggains' those magazine'. But if you permit one of those magazine' to buy it you get theadvantage of all the picture' in the whole magazine. "

"Ah!" several demurred, "and let that magazine swallow whole all thoseprofit' of all those advertisement'!"

Chester spoke: "I have an idea--" But others had ideas and the floorbesides. 

Castanado lifted a hand: "Frien'--our counsel. "

Counsel tried again: "I have a conviction that we should first offerthis to a magazine--through--yes, of course, through some influentialfriend. If one doesn't want it another may----"

Chorus: "Ho! they will all want it! That was not written laz' night!'Tis fivty year' old; they cannot rif-use that!"

"However, " Chester persisted, "if they should--if all should--I'dadvise----"

"Frien's, " Castanado pleaded, "let us hear. "

"I should advise that we gather together as many such old narratives aswe can find, especially such as can be related to one another----"

"They need not be ril-ated!" cried Dubroca. "_We_ are not ril-ated, and yet see! Ril-ated? where you are goin' to find them, ril-ated?"

"Royal Street!" Scipion retorted. "Royal Street is pave' with oldnarration'!"

"Already, " said Castanado, "we chanze to have three or four. Mademoiselle has that story of her _grand'mère_, and Mr. Chezter hehas--sir, you'll not care if I tell that?--Mr. Chezter has _the sequalto that_, and written by his uncle!"

"Yes, " Chester put in, "but Ovide Landry finds it was printed yearsago. "

"Proof!" proclaimed Mme. Alexandre, "proof that 'tis good to printag-ain! The people that read that before, they are mozely dead. "

"At the same time, " Chester responded, rising and addressing the chair, his hostess, "because that is a sequel to the _grand'-mère's_ story, and because _this_--this West Indian episode--is not a sequel and hasno sequel, and particularly because we ought to let mademoiselle befirst to judge whether my uncle's _memorandum_ is fit company for hertwo stories, I propose, I say, that before we read this West Indianthing we read my uncle's _memorandum_, and that we send and beg her tocome and hear it with us. It's in my pocket. "

Patter, patter, patter, went a dozen hands. 

"Marcel, " the hostess cried in French, "go!"

"I will go with you, " Mme. Alexandra proposed, "she will never comewithout me. "

"Tis but a step, " said Mme. De l'Isle, "the three of us will gotogether. " They went. 

Those who waited talked on of their city's true stories. The vastestand most monstrous war in human history was smoking and roaring justacross the Atlantic, and in it they had racial, national, personalinterests; but for the moment they left all that aside. "One troub', "Dubroca said, "'tis that all those three stone'--and all I canrim-ember--even that story of M'sieu' Smith about the fall of thecity--1862--they all got in them _somewhere_, alas! the nigger. The_publique_ they are not any longer pretty easy to fascinate on thatsubjec'. "

"Ho!" Beloiseau rejoined, "_au contraire_, he's an advantage! If onlyyou keep him for the back-_ground_; biccause in the mind ofevery-_body_ tha'z where he is, and that way he has the advantage toril-ate those storie' together and----"

Mademoiselle came. Her arrival, reception, installation near thehostess and opposite Chester are good enough untold. If elsewhere inthat wide city a like number ever settled down to listen to an untamedwriter's manuscript in as sweet content with one another _their_ storyought to be printed. "Well, " Mme. Castanado chanted, "commence. " AndChester read:

X

THE ANGEL OF THE LORD

When I was twenty-four I lived at the small capital of my nativeSouthern State. 

My parental home was three counties distant. My father, a slaveholdingplanter, was a noble gentleman, whom I loved as he loved me. But wecould not endure each other's politics and I was trying to exist on myprofessional fees, in the law office of one of our ex-governors. I waskindly tolerated by everybody about me but had neglected socialrelations, being a black sheep on every hot question of the time--1860. 

In the world's largest matters my Southern mother had the sanestjudgment I ever knew, and it was from her I had absorbed my notions onslavery. It was at least as much in sympathy for the white man as forthe black that she deprecated it, yet she pointed out to me how idle itwas to fancy that any mere manumission of our slaves would cure us of awhole philosophy of wealth, society, and government as inbred as it wasantiquated. 

One evening my two fellow boarders--state-house clerks, good boys--soglaringly left me out of their plan for a whole day's fishing on themorrow, that I smarted. I was so short of money that I could not havesupplied my own tackle, but no one knew that, and it stung me to beslighted by two chaps I liked so well. I determined to be revenged insome playful way that would make us better friends, and as I walkeddown-street next morning I hit out a scheme. They had been gone sincedaybreak and I was on my way to see a client who kept a livery-stable. 

Now, in college, where I had intended to leave all silly tricks behindme, my most taking pranks had been played in female disguise; for attwenty-four I was as beardless as a child. 

My errand to the stableman was to collect some part of my fee in a suitI had won for him. But I got not a cent, for as to cash his victoryhad been a barren one. However, a part of his booty was an old coachbuilt when carriage people made long journeys in their own equipages. This he would "keep on sale for me free of charge, " etc. 

"Which means you'll never sell it, " I said. 

Oh, he could sell it if any man could!

I smiled. Could he lend me, I asked, for half a day or so, a good spanof horses? He could. 

"Then hitch up the coach and let me try it. "

He bristled: "What are you going to find out by 'trying' it? Whatd'you 'llow it'll do? Blow up? Who'll drive it? _I_ can't spare anyone. "

I was glad. Any man of his would know me, and my scheme called for astranger to both me and the coach. I must find such a person. 

"If I send a driver, " I said, "you'll lend me the span, won't you?"

"Oh, yes. "

But all at once I decided to do without the whole rig. I went back tomy room and had an hour's enjoyment making myself up as a lady dressedfor travel. For a woman I was of just a fine stature. In years Ilooked a refined forty. My hands were not too big for black lacemitts, my bosom was a success, and my feet, in thin morocco, were outof sight and nobody's business. A little oil and a burnt matchdarkened my eyebrows, my wig sat straight, under the weest of bonnets Iwore a chignon, behind one ear a bunch of curls, and, unseen at oneside of a modest bustle, my revolver. Though I say it myself, Imanaged my crinoline with grace. 

["That was pritty co'rect, " the costumer remarked. "Humph!" saidChester. The three mesdames exchanged glances, and the reading wenton. ]

XI

Leaving a note on her door to tell our landlady that business wouldkeep me away an indefinite time, I got out at the front gateunobserved, and with a sweet dignity that charmed me with myself walkedaway under a bewitching parasol, well veiled. 

I knew where to find my two sportsmen. A few hundred paces put thetown and an open field at my back; a few more down a bushy lane broughtme where a dense wood overhung both sides of the narrow way, and thedamp air was full of the smell of penny-royal and of creek sands. Fromhere I proposed to saunter down through the woods to the creek, locatemy fishermen, and draw them my way by cries of distress. 

On their reaching my side my story, told through my veil and betweenmeanings and clingings, was to be that while on a journey in my owncoach, a part of its running-gear having broken, I had sent it on to bemended; that through love of trees and wild flowers I had ventured tostay alone meantime among them, and that a snake had bitten me on theankle. I should describe a harmless one but insist I was poisoned, andyet refuse to show the wound or be borne back to the road, or to leteither man stay with me alone while the other went for a doctor, or todrink their whiskey for a cure. On getting back to the road--with thetwo fellows for crutches--I should send both to town for my coach, keeping with me their tackle and fish. Then I should get myself and myspoils back to our dwelling as best I could and--await the issue. Ifthis poor performance had so come off--but see what occurred instead!

I had shut my parasol and moved into hiding behind some wild vines tomop my face, when near by on the farther side of the way came slylyinto view a negro and negress. They were in haste to cross the roadyet quite as wishful to cross unseen. One, in home-spun gown andsunbonnet, was ungainly, shoeless, bird-heeled, fan-toed, ragged, andwould have been painfully ugly but for a grotesqueness almost winsome. 

"She's a field-hand, " was my thought. 

The other, in very clean shirt, trousers, and shoes, looking ten yearsyounger and hardly full-grown, was shapely and handsome. "That boy, "thought I, "is a house-servant. The two don't belong in the sameharness. And yet I'd bet a new hat they're runaways. "

Now they gathered courage to come over. With a childish parade ofunconcern and with all their glances up and down the road, they came, and were within seven steps of me before they knew I was near. I shallnever forget the ludicrous horror that flashed white and black from theeyes in that sun-bonnet, nor the snort with which its owner, like afrightened heifer, crashed off a dozen yards into the brush and assuddenly stopped. 

"Good morning, boy, " I said to the other, who had gulped withconsternation, yet stood still. 

"Good mawnin', mist'ess. "

The feminine title came luckily. I had forgotten my disguise, sodisarmed was I by the refined dignity of the dark speaker's mellowvoice and graceful modesty. After all, my prejudices were Southern. Ihad rarely seen negroes, at worship, work, or play, without an inwardgroan for some way--righteous way--by which our land might be clean ridof them. But here, in my silly disguise, confronting this unmixedyoung African so manifestly superior to millions of our human swarmwhite or black, my unsympathetic generalizations were clear put toshame. The customary challenge, "Who' d'you belong to?" failed on mylips, and while those soft eyes passed over me from bonnet to mitts Igave my head as winsome a tilt as I could and inquired: "What is yourname?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you; what is it?"

"I'm name', eh, Euonymus; yass'm. "

"Oh, boy, where'd your mother get that name?"

"Why, mist'ess, ain't dat a Bible name?"

"Oh, yes, " I said, remembering Onesimus. With my parasol I indicatedthe other figure, sunbonneted, motionless, gazing on us through thebrush. 

"Has she a Bible name too?"

"Yass'm; Robelia. "

Robelia brought chin and shoulder together and sniggered. "Euonymus, "I asked, "have you seen two young gentlemen, fishing, anywhere nearhere?"

"Yass'm, dey out 'pon a san'bar 'bout two hund'ed yards up de creek. "The black finger that pointed was as clean as mine. 

"You and this woman, " thought I again, "are dodging those men. " With asmile as of curiosity I looked my slim informant over once more. I hadnever seen slavery so flattered yet so condemned. 

All at once I said in my heart: "You, my lad, I'll help to escape!"But when I looked again at the absurd Robelia I saw I must help bothalike. 

"Euonymus, did you ever drive a lady's coach?"

"Me? No'm, I never drove no lady's coach. "

"Well, boy, I'm travelling--in my own outfit. "

"Yass'm. "

"But I hire a new driver and span at each town and send the othersback. "

"Yass'm, " said Euonymus. Robelia came nearer. 

"My coach is now at a livery-stable in town, and I want a driver and alady's maid. "

"Yass'm. "

"I'd prefer free colored people. They could come with me as far asthey pleased, and I shouldn't be responsible for their return. "

"Yass'm, " said Euonymus, edging away from Robelia's nudge. 

"Now, Euonymus, I judge by your being out here in the woods this timeof day, idle, that you're both free, you and your sister, h'm?"

"Ro'--Robelia an' me? Eh, ye'--yass'm, as you may say, in a manneh, yass'm. "

"She is your sister, is she not?"

"Yass'm, " clapped in Robelia, with a happy grin, and Euonymus quietlyadded:

"Us full sisteh an' brotheh--in a manneh. "

"Umh'm. Could you drive my coach, Euonymus?"

"What, me, mist'ess? Why, eh, o' co'se I kin drive _some_, but--" Thesoft, honest eyes, seeking Robelia's, betrayed a mental conflict. Iguessed there were more than two runaways, and that Euonymus wasdebating whether for Robelia's sake to go with me and leave the othersbehind, or not. 

"You kin drive de coach, " blurted the one-ideaed Robelia. "You knowsyou kin. "

"No, mi'ss, takin' all roads as dey come I ain't no ways fitt'n'; no'm. "

"Well, daddy's fitt'n'!" said the sun-bonnet. 

Euonymus flinched, yet smilingly said:

"Yass, da's so, but I ain't daddy, no mo'n you is. "

"Well, us kin go fetch him--in th'ee shakes. "

Euonymus flinched again, yet showed generalship. "Yass'm, us kin go axdaddy. "

I smiled. "Let Robelia go and you stay here. "

Robelia waited on tiptoe. "Go fetch him, " murmured Euonymus, "an' makehas'e. "

"Wait! You're a good boy, Euonymus, ain't you?"

"I cayn't say dat, mi'ss; but I'm glad ef you thinks so. "

"Y' is good!" said Robelia. "You knows you is!"

"Never mind, " I said; "do you belong to--Zion?"

The dark face grew radiant. "Yass'm, I does!"

"Euonymus, how many more of you-all are there besides _daddy andmammy_?"

The surprise was cruel. The runaway's eyes let out a gleam of alarmand then, as I lighted with kindness, filled with rapt wonder at mymiraculous knowledge: "Be'--be'--beside'--beside' d-daddy an' m-mammy?D'ain't no mo', m-mist'ess; no'm!"

"Yass'm, " put in Robelia, "da's all; us fo'. "

"Just you four. Euonymus, a bit ago I noticed on your sister's anklessome white mud. "

"Yass'm. " Another gleam of alarm and then a fine, awesome courage. Robelia stared in panic. 

"The nearest white mud--marl--in the State, Robelia, is forty milessouth of here. "

"Is d'--dat so, mist'ess?"

"Yes, and so you also are travellers, Euonymus. "

"Trav'--y'--yass'm, I--I reckon you mought call us trav'luz, in amanneh, yass'm. "

"Well, my next town is thirty miles north of----"

"Nawth!" Euonymus broke in, thinking furiously. 

"Now, if instead of hiring just your sister and her daddy I should----"

"Yass'm!"

"Suppose I should take all four of you along, as though you were myslaves----"

"De time bein', " Euonymus alertly slipped in. 

"Certainly, that's all. How would that do?"

"Oh, mist'ess! kin you work dat miracle?"

"I can do it if it suits you. "

"Lawd, it suit' _us_! Dey couldn't be noth'n' mo' rep'ehensible!"

Robelia vanished. Euonymus gazed into my eyes. 

[Had my disguise failed?] "What is it, boy?"

"May I ax you a question, mi'ss?"

"You may ask if you won't tell. "

"Oh, I won't tell! Is you a sho' enough 'oman?--Lawd, I knowd youwa'n't! No mo'n you is a man! I seen it f'om de beginnin'!"

"Why, boy, what do you imagine I am?"

"Oh, I don't 'magine, I knows! 'T'uz me prayed Gawd to sen' you. Y'ain't man, y' ain't 'oman! an' yit yo' bofe! Yo' de same what visitAb'am, an' Lot, an' Dan'l, and de motheh de Lawd!"

"Stop! Stop! Never mind who I am; I've got to put you fifty milesfrom here before bedtime. "

"Yes, my Lawd. Oh, yes, my Lawd!"

"Euonymus! you mustn't call me that!"

"Ain't dat what Ab'am called you?"

"I forget! but--call me mistress!--only!"

"Yass, suh--yass, mi'ss!"

"Good. Now, lad, I can take you alone, horseback, which'll be farswifter, safer, surer----"

A new alarm, a new exaltation--"Oh, no, my--mist'ess; no, no! you knowsyou on'y a-temptin' o' dy servant!"

"You wouldn't leave daddy and mammy?"

"Oh, daddy kin stick to mammy, an' her to he! but Robelia got neitherfaith nor gumption, an' let me never see de salvation o' de Lawd ef Icayn't stick by dat--by--by my po' Robelia!"

"But suppose, my boy, we should be mistaken for runaways and trackedand run down. "

"Yass'm, o' co'se. Yass'm. "

"Can you fight--for your sister?"

"Yass, my La'--yass'm, I kin an' I will. I's qualified my soul to'dat, suh; yass'm. "

"Dogs?"

"Yass'm, dawgs. Notinstandin' de dawgs come pass me roun' about, in dename o' de Lawd will I lif up my han' an' will perwail. "

"Have you only your hands?"

"Da's all David had, ag'in lion an' bah. "

"True. Euonymus, I need a man's clothes. "

"Yass'm, on a pinch dey mowt come handy. "

XII

Here Robelia came again, conducting "Luke" and "Rebecca. " Luke'sgarments were amusingly, heroically patched, yet both seniors werethoroughly attractive; not handsome, but reflecting the highest, gentlest rectitude. One of their children had inherited all that wasbest from both parents, beautifully exalting it; the other all that waspoorest in earlier ancestors. They were evolution and reversionpersonified. 

The father was frank yet deferential. Our parley was brief. His onlypomp lay in his manner of calling me madam. I felt myself a queen. Handing him a note to the stable-keeper, "You can read, " I said, "can'tyou? Or your son can?"

"No, madam, I regrets to say we's minus dat. "

I hid my pleasure. "Well, at the stable, if they seem to think thisnote is from a man, or that the coach is owned by a man----"

"Keep silent, " put in Euonymus, "an' see de counsel o' de Lawdovehcome. "

Luke went. I pencilled another note. It requested my landlady to giveEuonymus a hat, boots, and suit from my armoire and speed him back allshe could. (To avoid her queries. )

Rebecca gazed anxiously after this second messenger. Robelia, near by, munched blackberries. 

"Rebecca, did you ever think what you'd do if both your children werein equal danger?"

"Why, yass'm, I is studie' dat, dis ve'y day, ef de trufe got to betol'. "

Thought I: "If anything else has to be told, Robelia'll be my onlyhelper. " I asked Rebecca which one she would try to save first. 

"Why, mist'ess, I could tell dat a heap sight betteh when de time come. De Lawd mowt move me to do most fo' de one what least fitt'n' to"--shechoked--"to die. An' yit ag'in dat mowt depen' on de circumstances o'de time bein'. "

"Well, it mustn't, Rebecca, it mustn't!"

"Y'--yass'm--no'm'm! Mustn' it?"

"No, in any case you must do as I tell you. "

"Oh, o' co'se! yass'm!"

"So promise, now, that in any pinch you'll try first to save your son. "

"Yass'm. " A pang of duplicity showed in her uplifted glance, yet shemurmured again: "Yass'm, I promise you dat. " Nevertheless, I had mydoubts. 

A hum of voices told us my two anglers were approaching, and withRebecca's quieting hand on the pusillanimous Robelia we drew intohiding and saw them cross the corner of a clearing and vanish againdownstream. Then, hearing the coach, we went to meet it. 

Both messengers were on the box. Euonymus passed me my bundle ofstuff. The coach turned round. Bidding Euonymus stay on the box I hadRebecca and Robelia take the front seat inside. Following in Iremarked: "Good boy, that of yours, Luke. "

Luke bowed so reverently that I saw Euonymus's belief in me was not hisalone. "We thaynk de Lawd, " Luke replied, "fo' boy an' gal alike; degood Lawd sawnt 'em bofe. "

"Yet extra thanks for the son wouldn't hurt. "

Robelia buried a sob of laughter in the nearest cushion, and as werolled away gaped at me with a face on which a dozen flies danced andplayed tag. And so we went----. 

Chester ceased reading and stood up. For Mlle. Chapdelaine was rising. All the men rose. 

"And so, also, " she said, "I too must go. "

"Oh, but the story is juz' big-inning, " Mme. Alexandra protested, andMme. De l'Isle said:

"I'm sure 'twill turn out magnificent, yes!"

Mademoiselle declared the tale fascinating. She "would be enchanted tostay, " but her aunts _must_ be considered, etc. ; and when Chesterconfessed the reading would require another session anyhow Mmes. Del'Isle and Alexandre arose, and M. Castanado asked aloud if there wasany of the company who could not return a week from that evening. 

No one was so unlucky. "But!" cried Mme. Alexandre, "why not to myparlor?"

"Because!" said Mme. Castanado, to Chester's vivid enlightenment, "every week-day, all day, you have mademoiselle with you. "

"With me, ah, no! me forever down in my shop, and mademoiselleincessantly upstair'!"

Mme. Castanado prevailed. That same room, one week later. 

Scipion and Dubroca escorted Mme. De l'Isle across to her beautifulgates, and Chester, not in dream but in fact, with M. De l'Isle andMme. Alexandre following well in the rear, walked with mademoiselle tothe high fence and green batten wicket of her olive-scented garden inthe rue Bourbon. So walking, and urged by him, she began to tell ofmatters in her father's life, the old Hotel St. Louis life before hersbegan--matters that gave to "The Clock in the Sky" and "The Angel ofthe Lord" a personal interest beyond all academic values. 

"We'll finish about that another time, " she said, and with "anothertime" singing in his heart like a taut wire he verily enjoyed therasping of the wicket's big lock as he turned away. 

The week wore round. Except M. De l'Isle, kept away by a meeting ofthe Athénée Louisianais, all were regathered; one thing alone delayedthe reading. Each of the three women had separately asked her fatherconfessor how far one might justly--well--lie--to those seeking thetruth only for cruel and wicked ends. But as no two had received thesame answer, and as Chester's uncle was gone to his reward--orpenalty--the question was early tabled. "Well, " Mme. Castanado said:"'And so we went--' in the coach. Go on, read. "

XIII

And so we went, not through the town but around it. 

My attendants were heavy with sleep. Seating Rebecca next me I calledEuonymus into the coach and let mother, son, and daughter slumber atease. 

To the few persons we met I paraded my bonnet and curls. Some, inSouthern fashion, I questioned. I was a widow who had sold herplantation in order to go and live with a widowed brother. Euonymustoo I showed off, who, waking at every halt, presented a face thatseemed any boy's rather than a runaway's. So natural to these Africanswas the supernatural that I could be one of the men who plucked Lotfrom Sodom and yet a becurled widow. 

When at noon, at a farmhouse, we had fed horses and dined, I at theplanter's board, my "slaves" under the house-grove trees, Euonymus tookthe lines, and for five hours Luke slept inside. Then they changedplaces again, and Euonymus and I, face to face, watched the long hotday wane, and pass through gorgeous changes into twilight. Often I sawquestions in the young eyes that watched me so reverently, but I darednot encourage them; dared not be a talkative angel. Also my brain hadits questions. How was I to get out of the most perilous trap intowhich a sane man--if sane I was--ever thrust himself? There was nosign that we were being pursued, but it was a harrowing puzzle how, without drawing suspicion upon the runaways, to get them once moreseparated from me and the coach while I should vanish as a lady andreappear as a gentleman. 

"Euonymus, boy, if I should by and by dress as a man could you putthese woman things on, over what you're wearing, and be a lady in myplace?"

"Why, eh, y'--yass'm. Oh, yass'm, ef you say so, my--mistress;howsomever, you know what de good book say' 'bout de Ethiopium. "

"Can't change--yes, I know; but this would be only for an hour or twoand in the dark. "

"It'd have to be pow'ful dahk, " sighed Euonymus, and from Robelia'ssunbonnet came--"Unh!"

Rebecca interposed: "An' still, o' co'se, we all gwine do ezac'ly whatyou say. "

"Well, " I responded, "maybe we won't do that. " And we never did. Iwas still "Mrs. Southmayd, " as we came into a small railway station. At the ticket-window I asked if any one had come up in the train ofhalf an hour before, inquiring for a lady in a coach. 

"No, ma'am, nobody got off that train. But there's another train athalf past eight. "

"Oh, " I whined, "he won't come on that; he's overrated my speed andgone on to the next station, making five miles more going for me!"

"Why, no, you can give three of your servants a pass to go on with thecarriage, keep your maid and wait for the train. "

"Ah, no! No lady can choose to travel by rail where she can go in herown coach!"

They said no more except to warn Luke of a bad piece of road about twomiles on. Sure enough, in its very middle--crack!--we broke down. "Dekingbolt done gone clean in two!" said Luke, and Robelia repeated thenews explosively. 

"We'll leave the coach, " I announced. "Fold the lap-robes on the backsof the two horses, for Rebecca and me. You-all can walk beside us. "

After a while, so going, we passed a large plantation house, itswindows ruddy with home cheer. A second quarter-mile brought dimly toview a railroad water-tank and an empty flag-station house, and in thenext bit of woods I spoke to Euonymus: "Have you that bundle? Ah, yes. Luke, this boy and I are going off here a step for me to change mydress. If any passer questions you, say I'll be right back. "

"Yass, madam, but, er, eh--wouldn' you sooner take yo' maid, Robelia, instid?"

"No, for as to dress I'll be as much of a man, when I get back, asEuonymus. "

"Is Euonymus gwine change dress too?"

"No, these things that I take off, your wife and Robelia may dividebetween them. "

I started away but Luke lifted a hand. I thought he was going to claimevery dud for Robelia. Not so. 

"We all thanks you mighty much, madam, but in fac', ef de trufe got tobe tol'----"

"It hasn't got to be told _me_, Luke, if I----"

"Oh, no, madam, o' co'se. I 'uz on'y gwine say--a-concernin'Euonymus----"

I hurried off while the wife chided her good man: "Why don't you desshide all dem thing' in yo' heart like _dey_ used to do when d' angel'pear' unto _dem_?"

Alone with Euonymus, as I whipped off my feminine garb and whirled intothe other, I began to say that however suddenly I might leave thefugitives they must rest assured that I was not deserting them. Towhich----

"Oh, my Lawd, " Euonymus replied, "us know dat!"

We reached the pike again. "Rebecca, dismount. Hand me your bridle. Luke, for you-all's better safety I'm going back and return thesehorses. We may not see one another again----"

"Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy!" moaned Rebecca. 

"In dis vain worl' you mean, " Luke said. 

"That's all. Come, don't waste time. You'd better walk on for a shortway in the pike before taking to the woods. Now go all night for allyou're worth. Good-by. " I turned abruptly. But my led horse wasaverse to abruptness, and all the family except the torpid Robeliapoured up their blessings and rained kisses on my very feet. 

In my half-intelligent plan I intended first to stop at the house wehad gone by, and had reached the gate of its front lane when I met oneof its household, a lad of sixteen, on the pike. 

"Yes, he had just seen the disabled coach. "

I said that by business appointment with the lady who had just left thecoach I had gone to the next railway station northward in order to meether. That I had come down the turnpike on a hired horse and met herand her servants pushing forward to our appointment as best they could. Now, I said, our business, a law matter, was accomplished and she wasgone on on my hired horse. This span I was taking back to the stablewhence I had hired them for her in the morning. 

The boy's graciousness shamed me through and through. "Why, certainly!He would have the coach drawn up to the house before sunrise and wouldkeep it as long as I liked. " He asked me in, but I went on to thelittle railway town, repeated my tarradiddle at its "hotel, " and soonwas asleep. 

["'Tarradi'l', '" said Mme. Castanado, "tha'z may be a species ofpaternoster, I suppose, eh?"

"No, " said Scipion, "I think tha'z juz' a fashion of speech that hetook a drink. I do that myself, going to bed. "

Chester explained, but said that to admit one's untruthfulness by evena nickname implied _some_ compunction. Whereat two or three put in:

"Ah! if he acknowledge' his compunction he's all right! But we arestopping the story. "

It went on. ]

XIV

I was awakened, after the breakfast hour, by a tap on my door. Why itgave me consternation I could not have told; I dare say my inveracitiesof the day before had failed to digest. "Come in, " I called, and instepped my two fishermen. 

Their good mornings were pleasant, but, "Fact is, " said one, "we'rebothered about your client. "

"The lady who passed through here last evening?"

"Yes, it looks as though----"

"Go on while I dress. Looks as though--what?"

"As though she wa'n't what you thought, or else----"

I smiled aggressively: "Pardon, I _know_ that lady. 'Or else, ' yousay? What else? Go on. "

"Oh, you go on dressing. Do you know them darkies are hers?"

"Hoh! Are your teeth yours? Why do you ask?"

He handed me a newspaper clipping:

Two Hundred Dollars Reward. Ran away from my plantation in ---- countyof this State, on the ------ day of ------ the following named anddescribed slaves; father, mother, daughter, and son: . . . A reward offifty dollars will be paid to any person for the capture andimprisonment in any jail, of each or either of the above named. Etc. 

With a laugh I returned the thing and went on dressing. "It doesn't, "I said aloud to my busy image in the mirror, "describe my client'sdarkies at all. " I faced round: "Why, gentlemen, if this isn't themost astonishing----"

"Ho-old on. Ho-old on! Finish your dressing. We're told it doesdescribe two of them and we thought we'd just come and see forourselves. "

"And you followed the unprotected lady?"

"We followed four runaway niggers, sir! Else why did they take to thewoods inside of a mile from that house where you left the coach? Oh, you're dressed; come along; time's flying!"

Determined to waste all the time I could, "Wait, " I said, strapping onmy pistol. "Now, gentlemen, we'll follow this matter to the end, beginning now, instantly. But it must be done as----"

"Oh, as privately as possible! Certainly!"

"Certainly. You want the reward and you want it all. But understand, I know you're in error, and I go with you solely to prove you are. Now, by your theory----"

"Oh, come along!" We went. I killed time over my coffee, and ingetting a saddle for one of my hired span. "You must excuse us ifwe're not polite, " my friends apologized after another flash ofimpatience. "Of course those niggers are not on the run in broad day, but their trail's getting cold!"

"You're not as bad-mannered as I am, " I laughed as we mounted, buttheir allusion to hounds made me enjoy the burden of my six-shooter. 

As we ambled off, "What were you going to say, " one asked me, "aboutour 'theory, ' or something?"

"Oh! I see you think Mrs. Southmayd must have met up with company andleft her servants to follow on to the next station alone. "

"Exactly. We tracked the darkies along the edge of the road; but herhorse tracks--we could only see that no horse tracks left the roadwhere any of their man tracks left it. "

When we had gone a mile or so one of the boys turned to leave us by aneighborhood road, saying: "I'll rejoin you, 'cross fields, where youturned back last night. I'm going for the dogs. "

"Stop! Gentlemen, this is too high-handed. Do you reckon I'll let yourun down those four innocent creatures with hounds? I _swear_ youshan't do it, sirs. "

"See here, " said the one still with me, "come on. We'll show you thevery spots where those innocents left the road one by one, and if youdon't say they've used every trick known to a nigger to kill theirtrail, we'll just quit and go home. Does that suit you?"

"Not by a long chalk!" I retorted as I moved with him up the pike. "Those poor simpletons--alone in a strange land, maybe without a pass, at any moment liable to meet a patrol--how easy for them to make thefatal mistake of leaving the road and hiding their tracks!"

"All right, come ahead, you'll see fair play. "

We passed the scene of the breakdown and then the house to which thecoach had been drawn. I saw the coach in a stable door. By and by aturn in the pike revealed the other clerk and a tall, slim horsemanjust dismounting among four lop-eared, black-and-brown dogs coupled twoand two by light steel breast-yokes. With a heavy whip and without afrown this man gave one of them a quick cut over the face as the bruteventured to lift a voice as hollow and melodious as a bell. 

"He's a puppy I'm breaking in, " said the man. "Now here, you see"--hepointed to the middle of the road--"is where you, sir, met up with themadam and her niggers, and given her yo' hoss and taken her span. Here's the tracks o' the span, you takin' 'em back; you can see they'rethe same as these comin' this way. T'other critter's tracks I don'tmake out, but no matter, here's the niggers' along here--and here, see?and here--here--there. " We rode for ten minutes or so. Then haltingagain:

"Look yonder in that lock o' fence. There's where one went over intothe brush. "

Beyond the high worm fence grew a stubborn tangle of briers, vines, andcane. "Mind you, " I began to call after the nigger-chaser, but one ofmy companions spoke for me:

"Mr. Hardy, we got to be dead sure they're runaways before we put thedogs on. "

"No, we ain't, " Hardy called through the back of his head. "Dandy andCharmer'll tell us if they're not, before we've gone three hundredyards, and I can call 'em off so quick it'll turn 'em a somerset. " Hedismounted, and, while unyoking the two older hounds, spoke softly afew words of gusto that put them into a dumb ecstasy. One of the boyspressed his horse up to mine. 

"There's the place, " he said. "Now watch the dogs find it. "

As the pair sprang from Hardy's hands one began to nose the air, theother the earth, to left, to right, and to cross each other's short, swift circuits. With stony face while assuming a voice of wildesteagerness he cried in searching whispers: "Niggeh thah, Dandy! Niggehthah, Charmer! Take him, my lady!"

Skimming the ground with hungry noses, the dogs answered each cry witha single keen yap of preoccupied affirmation. Almost at once Charmercame to the spot pointed out to me, reared her full length upon therails and let out a new note; long, musical, fretful, overjoyed. Hardymounted breast-high to the fence's top, wreathed two fingers in thewilling brute's collar, lifted her, and dropped her on the other side. There she instantly resumed her search. 

At the same time her yoke-mate's deep bay pealed like a trumpet, from afew yards up the roadway. He had struck the broad, frank trail of theother three negroes. The "puppy, " still in leash, replied in a notehardly less deep and mellow, but the whip of cool discipline cut himoff. From an ox-horn the master blew a short, sharp recall and at onceDandy returned and began his work over, knowing now which runaway tosingle out. 

Hardy remained on the fence, watching his favorite, over in the brush. By a stir of the bushes, now here, now there, we could see how busy shewas, and every now and then she sent us, as if begging our patience, her eager promissory yelp. 

Suddenly her master had a new thought. He stepped onward to the nextlock of the fence, scrutinized its top rail, moved to, the next lock, examining the top rail there, then to the next, the next, the next, andat the seventh or eighth beckoned us. 

"See, here?" he asked. "Think that ain't a runaway nigger? Look. " Asplinter had been newly rubbed off the rail. "What you reckon donethat, sir; a bird or a fish? That's where he jumped. Look yonder, where he landed and lit out. "

The merest fraction of a note from the horn brought the two free dogsto their master, and before he could lift Dandy over the fence Charmerwas on the trail. She threw her head high and for the first timefilled the resounding timber with the music of her bay. 

["Mr. Chester, " murmured Mlle. Chapdelaine, and once more he ceased toread. Mme. Castanado had laid her hands tightly to her face. Yet nowshe smilingly dropped them, saying: "Seraphine--Marcel--please to pazzaround that cake an' wine. Well, I su'pose there are yet in theworl'--in Afrique--Asia--even Europe--several kin' of cuztom mo' wickedthan that. And still I'm sorry that ever tranzpire. But, Mr. Chezter, if you'll resume?"

Chester once more resumed. ]

XV

Hardy's incitements were no longer whispers. 

"Dandy! Dandy!" he cried, with wild elation of voice and still noemotion in his face. "Niggeh-fellah thah. Dandy! Ah, Dandy! look himout!"

The music swelled from Dandy's throat. Away went the pair. Theyounger couple, in yoke, trembled and moaned to be after them. The twoclerks had swung down three or four rails from the fence, and withHardy were hurrying their horses through, when the youngest dog, noseto the ground and tugging his yokemate along, let go a cry of discoveryand began to dig furiously under a bottom rail. His master threw himoff and drew from under it "Mrs. Southmayd's" tiny beflowered bonnet. 

"Good God!" exclaimed one of the boys as he held it up, "they've madeway with her!"

"Now, none of _that_ nonsense!" I cried; "she's given it to one of themand they've feared 'twould get them into trouble!" But the three hadspurred off and I could only toss it away and follow. 

The baying had ceased and an occasional half-smothered yap told thatthe scent was broken. A huge grape-vine end, hanging from a loftybough, had enabled the run-away to take a long sidewise swing clear ofthe ground; but as I came up the brutes had recovered the trail andsped on, once more breaking the still air, far and wide, into deepwaves of splendid sound. Close after them, as best they might in yoke, scuttled the younger pair, dragging each other this way and that, theirbroad ears trailing to their feet, and Hardy riding close behind them, reciting their pedigrees and their distinguishing whims. 

Presently we issued from the woods, at the edge of wide fieldssurrounding a plantation-house and slave-quarters, and I hoped to findthe trail broken again; but without a pause the chase turned along aline of fence as if to half encircle the plantation. The master of thehounds, in nervy yet placid words, explained that a runaway knew betterthan to cross open ground by night and set the house-dogs a-barking. It was only on seeing no workers in the fields that I remembered it wasSunday, and feared intensely that the pious fugitives might haveshortened their flight. 

From the plantation's farther bound we ran down a long, gentle slope ofbeautiful open woods. At the bottom of it a clear stream rippledbetween steep banks shrouded with strong vines. Here the scent hadfailed and it was wonderful to see the docile faith and intelligencewith which the dogs resigned the whole work to their master, andfollowed beside him while he sought a crossing-place for his horse. This took many minutes, but by and by they scrambled over, he biddingus wait where we were until the dogs should open again; and as hestarted down-stream along the farther bank the older hounds, at asingle word, ran circling out before him in the tangle, electrified bythe steel-cold eagerness of his implorings. 

But now, to my joy, he found their hungry snufflings as futile as hisown scrutinizings and divinations, and after following the stream untilmy companions fretted openly at the delay, he dropped a note from hishorn, rode back with the four dogs, recrossed, and passed down on ourside with them at his heels, frowning at last and scanning the tangledgrowth of the opposite bank. 

And now again he came back: "You see, this stream runs so nigh the waythey wanted to go that there's no tellin' how fur they waded down it orwhether they was two, three, or four of 'em rej'ined together. They'reshore to 'a' been all together when they left it, but where that washell only knows. Come on. "

We plunged across after him and followed down the farther bank, and atthe point where he had turned back he put the hounds on again. "How doyou know there were more than one here?" I asked. 

"Because, if noth'n' else, this trail at first was a fool's trail andnow it's as smart as cats a-fight'n'--_look 'em out, Dandy_! Everytime the rascals struck a swimmin'-hole they swum it, the men sort o'tote'n' the women, I reckon--_ah, my Charmer! Yes, my sweet lady! take'em! take 'em_!"

As the stream emerged into an old field--"Sun's pow'ful hot foryou-all!" Hardy added. "Ain't see' such a day this time o' year fo' acoon's age. Hosses feel'n' it. Hard to say which is hottest, sun orbrush. "

We had skirted the branch a full mile, beating its margin thoroughly, and were in deep woods again, when all at once Charmer let out a gladpeal. Her mate echoed it and with the stream at their back they wereoff and away in full cry. The trail was broad and strong and with rarebreaks continued so for an hour. Often the dogs made us trot; in opengrounds we galloped. Once, in a thickety wet tract where the still airwas suffocating and a sluggish runlet meandered widely, Hardy wasforced, after long hinderance, to drop the trail and recover it on arising ground beyond. 

There once more we were making good speed when we burst into an opengrove where about a small, unpainted frame church a saddle-horse wastied under every swinging limb. Before the church a gang of boys hadsprung up from their whittling to be our gleeful spectators. Hardywaved them off with the assurance that we wanted neither their help norcompany, and though the trail took us at slackened speed around twosides of the building we passed and were gone while the worshipperswere in the first stanza of a hymn started to keep them on theirbenches. 

Noon, afternoon; we made no pause. "It's ketch 'em before night, " saidHardy as we bent low under beech boughs, "or not till noon to-morrow. "

About mid-afternoon one of the court-house boys, who had been talkingsoftly with the other, turned back with a bare good-by. His friendexplained:

"Got to be at his desk early in the morning. But I'm with you till yourun 'em down. "

Happy for me that he was mistaken. Two hours more were hardly gonewhen, "My Prince is sick!" he cried, drew in, and under a smoke of hisown curses began wildly to unsaddle. Hardy rode on. 

"You'll have to get another mount, " I said. 

"Another hell! I wouldn't leave this horse sick in strange hands for athousand dollars!" Suddenly he struck an imploring key: "Look here!I'll give you fifty dollars cash to stay with me till I get him out o'this!"

"Five hundred, " I called, trotting after Hardy, "wouldn't hire me. "

Till I was out of earshot I could hear him damning and cursing me insnorts and shouts as a sneak who would wear my coat of tar and feathersyet, and I was still wondering whether I ought to or not, when Ioverhauled the nigger-chaser cheering on his dogs. Their prey hadagain tricked them, and again the cry was, "Take him, Dandy!" and "Hi, Charmer, hi!"

Between shouts: "Is yo' nag gwine to hold out?"

"He's got to or perish, " I laughed. 

In time we found ourselves under a vast roof of towering pines. Thehigh green grass beneath them had been burned over within a year. Thedeclining sun gilded both the grass and the lower sides of the soaringboughs. Even Hardy glanced back exaltedly to bid me mark the beauty ofthe scene. But I dared not. The dogs were going more swiftly thanever, and there was a ticklish chance of one's horse breaking a leg inone of the many holes left by burnt-out pine roots. The main risk, moreover, was not to Hardy's trained hunter but to my worn-out livery"nag. "

"We've started 'em, all four, on the run, " he called, "but if we don'ttree 'em befo' they make the river we'll lose 'em after all. "

The land began a steady descent. Soon once more we were in underbrushand presently came square against a staked-and-ridered worm fencearound a "deadening" dense with tall corn. Charmer and Dandy hadclimbed directly over it, scampered through the corn, and were wakingevery echo in a swamp beyond. The younger pair, still yoked, stoodunder the fence, yelping for Hardy's aid. He sprang down and unyokedthem and over they scrambled and were gone, ringing like fire-bells. Outside the fence, both right and left, the ground was miry, yet for usit was best to struggle round through the bushy slough; which we hadbarely done when with sudden curses Hardy spurred forward. The youngerdogs were off on a separate chase of their own. For at the river-bankthe four negroes had divided by couples and gone opposite ways. 

"Call them back!" I urged. "Blow your horn!" But I was ignored. 

XVI

[Chester sat looking at a newly turned page as though it were illegible. 

"I'm wondering, " he lightly said, "what public enormity of to-day thenext generation will be as amazed at as we are at this. "

"Ah, " Mme. Castanado responded, "never mine! Tha'z but the moral!Aline and me we are insane for the story to finizh!" And the story wasresumed, to suffer no further interruption. ]

At the river we burst out upon a broad, gentle bend up and down whichwe could see both heavily wooded banks for a good furlong either way. 

The sun's last beams shone straight up the lower arm of the bend. Onthe upper bayed Charmer and Dandy, unseen. On the lower we heard theyounger pair. On the upper we saw only the clear waters crinkling in awide shallow over a gravel-bar, but down-stream we instantly discoveredLuke and his wife. Silhouetted against the level sunlight, heavingforward with arms upthrown, waist deep in the main current, they weremore than half-way across. At that moment two small dark objects, thetwo dogs, moved out from the shore, after them, each with its wake oftwo long silvery ripples. The "puppy" was leading. 

With a curse their master threw the horn to his lips and blew animperious note. The rear dog turned his head and would have reversedhis course, but seeing his leader keep on he kept on with him. Againthe angry horn re-echoed, and the rear dog promptly turned back thoughthe other swam on. 

Rebecca threw a look behind and it was pitiful to hear her outcry ofdespair and terror. But Luke faced about and, backing after herthrough the flood, prepared to meet the hound naked-handed. Hardysprang to his tiptoes in the stirrups, his curses pealing across thewater. "If you hurt that dog, " he yelled, "I'll shoot you dead!"

Up-stream the other two runaways were out on the gravel-bar, Euonymusbehind Robelia and Robelia splashing ludicrously across the shoal, tearing off and kicking off--in preparation for deep water--sunbonnet, skirt, waist, petticoat, and howling in the self-concern of abjectcowardice. 

"Thank heaven, she's a swimmer, " thought I, "and won't drown herbrother!" For only a swimmer ever cast off garments that way. 

The flight of Euonymus, too, was bare-headed and swift, but it wasunfrenzied and silent. Neither of them saw Luke or Rebecca; the sunwas in their eyes and at that instant Charmer and Dandy, having metsome momentary delay, once more bayed joyously and sprang into view. Like Luke, Euonymus faced the brutes. With another fierce outcry Hardyblew his recall of all the four dogs. 

Three turned at once but the youngster launched himself at Luke'sthroat where he stood breast-high in the glassing current. The slavecaught the dog's whole windpipe in both hands and went with him underthe flood. Hardy's supreme care for Charmer had lost him the strategicmoment, but he fired straight at Rebecca. 

She did not fall and his weapon flew up for a second shot! but by somesheer luck I knocked the pistol spinning yards away into the river. While it spun I saw other things: Rebecca clasping a wounded arm; Lukeand the dog reappearing apart, the dog about to repeat his onset; andHardy dumb with rage. 

"Call the puppy!" I cried, "you'll save him yet. "

The master winded his horn, and the dog swam our way. At the same timehis fellows came about us, while on the farther bank Luke helped hiswife writhe up through the waterside vines, and with her disappeared. Only Euonymus remained in the water, at the far edge of the gravel-bar. 

I was so happy that I laughed. "All right, " I cried, "I'll pay for therevolver. "

Foul epithets were Hardy's reply while he spurred madly to and fro insearch of an opening in the vines to let his horse down into thestream. I rode with him, knee to knee. "You'll pay for this with yourlife !" he yelled down my throat. "I'll kill you, so help me God!_Charmer! Dandy! go, take the nigger!_"

The whole baying pack darted off for Euonymus's crossing. "_Take thenigger, Charmer! Ah! take him, my lady!_" We saw that Euonymus couldnot swim. Still knee to knee with Hardy, I drew and fired. "Puppy's"mate yelped and rolled over, dead. 

"Call them back, " I said, holding my weapon high; but Hardy onlyshrieked curses and cried:

"_Take the nigger, Charmer, take him!_"

I fired again. Poor Dandy! He sprang aside howling piteously, withmelting eyes on his master. 

"Oh, God!" cried Hardy, leaping down beside the wailing dog, thatpushed its head into his bosom like a sick child. "Oh, God, but youshall die for this!"

He was half right but so was I and I checked up barely enough to cryback: "Call 'em off! Call 'em off or I'll shoot Charmer!"

With Dandy clasped close and with eyes streaming he blew the recall. Looking for its effect, I saw Euonymus trying to swim and Charmerquitting the chase. But the young dog kept on. The current wascarrying Euonymus away. Twice through vines and brush, while I cried:"Catch the fallen tree below you! Catch the tree!" I tried to spur myhorse down into the stream, and on the third trial I succeeded. 

The flood had cut the bank from under a great buttonwood. It hungprone over the water, and one dipping fork seized and held the faintingswimmer. The dog was close, but had entered the current too far downand was breasting it while he bayed in protest to his master's horn. Now, as Euonymus struggled along the tree the brute struck for thebank, and the two gained it together. Euonymus ran, but on a bit ofopen grass dropped to one knee, at bay. The dog sprang. In the negrofashion the runaway's head ducked forward to receive the onset, whileboth hands clutched the brute's throat. Not dreaming that they wouldkeep their hold till I could get there, I leaped down in the shoal tofire; but the grip held, though the dog's teeth sank into legs andarms, and all at once Euonymus straightened to full stature, liftingthe dog till his hind legs could but just tiptoe the ground. 

"Right!" I cried; "bully, my boy! Lift him one inch higher and he'swhipped!"

But Euonymus could barely hold him off from face and throat. 

"Turn him broadside to me!" I shouted, having come into waterbreast-deep. "Let me put a hole through him!"

But the fugitive's only response was: "Run, Robelia! 'Ever mind me!Run! Run!"

And here came Hardy across the gravel-bar, in the saddle. I aimed athim: "Stand, sir! Stand!"

He hauled in and lifted the horn. Euonymus had heaved the dog from hisfeet. The horn rang, and with a howl of terror the brute writhed free, leaped into the river and swam toward his master. I sprang on my horseand took the deep water: "Wait, boy! Wait!"

It was hard getting ashore. When I reached the spot of grass I foundonly the front half of the runaway's hickory shirt, in bloody rags. Ispurred to a gap in the bushes, and there, face down, lay Euonymus, insensible. I knelt and turned the slender form; and then I whippedoff my coat and laid it over the still, black bosom. For Euonymus wasa girl. 

XVII

Her eyelids quivered, opened. For a moment the orbs were vacant, butas she drew a deep breath she saw me. Her shapely hand sought herthroat-button, and finding my coat instead she turned once more to thesod, moaning, "Brother! Mingo!"

"Is he Robelia?" I asked. "Come, we'll find him. "

Clutching my coat to her breast, she staggered up. I helped her putthe coat on and sprang into the saddle. "Now mount behind me, " I said, reaching for her hand; but with an anguished look:

"Whah Mingo?" she asked. "Is dey kotch Mingo?"

"No, not yet. Your hand--now spring!"

She landed firmly and we sped into the woods. 

My merely wounding Dandy was fortunate. It kept Hardy from followingme hotfooted or rousing the neighborhood. I dare say he wanted no onebut himself to have the joy of killing me. 

At a "store" and telegraph-station I let my charge down into a wildplum-patch, bought a hickory shirt, left my half-dead beast, telegraphed my livery-stable client where to find him, and so avoidedthe complication of being a horse-thief. Then I recovered Euonymus andabout ten that night the five of us met on the bank of a creek. Nearits farther shore, on a lonely railroad siding, we found a waitingfreight-train and stole into one of its empty cars; and when at closeof the next day hunger drove us out our pursuers were beating the busha hundred miles behind. 

Fed from a negro-cabin and guided by the stars, we fled all of anothernight afoot, and on the following day lost Mingo. At broad noon, withan overseer and his gang close by in a corn-field, the seductions of amelon-patch overcame him and he howled away his freedom in the jaws ofa bear-trap. His father and mother wept dumb tears and laid theirfaces to the ground in prayer. Euonymus was frantic. With all hersuperior sanity, she would not have left the region could she havepersuaded us to go on without her. 

Well! Day by day we lay in the brush, and night after night fled on. I could tell much about the sweet, droll piety of my three fellowrunaways, and the humble generosity of their hearts. No ancientIsraelite ever looked forward to the coming of a political Messiah withmore pious confidence than they to a day when their whole dark raceshould be free and enjoy every right that any other race enjoys. 

"Even a right to cross two races?" I once asked Luke, smilingly, thoughwith intense aversion. 

"No, suh; no, suh! De same Lawd what give' ev'y man a wuck he cayn'tdo ef he ain't dat man, give' ev'y ra-ace a wuck dey cayn't do ef deyain't dat ra-ace. " I fancy he had been years revolving that into aformula; or--he may have merely heard some master or mistress say it. 

"Still, " I suggested, "races have crossed, and made new and betterones. "

"I don't 'spute dat, suh; no, suh. But de Lawd ain't neveh gwine tomake a betteh ra-ace by cross'n' one what done-done e'en-a' most allwhat even yit been done, on to anotheh what, eh----"

Sidney (Onesimus) put in: "What ain't neveh yit done noth'n'!" And hermother sighed, "Amen!"

XVIII

"Yes?" inquired Mme. Castanado. "Well?"

"Ah, surely!" cried several, "Tha'z not all?"

Mme. De l'Isle appealed to her husband: "Even two, three hun'red mile', that din'n' bring the line of Canada, I think. "

"No, but, I suppose, of the Ohio. "

"And that undergroun' railway!" said Scipion. 

"Yes, " Mme. Alexandre agreed, "but that story remain' unfinizh' whilesthat uncle of Mr. Chezter couldn' return at his home. "

"Not even his State, " ventured mademoiselle. 

"But he did, " Chester said; "he came back. "

M. Dubroca spoke up: "Oh, 'tis easy to insert that, at theen'--foot-note. "

"And Hardy?" asked Beloiseau, "him and yo' uncle, they di'n' shoot eitherthe other?"

"I believe they did, each the other. I never quite understood the hintsI got of it, till now. I know that six months in bed with a back full of_somebody's_ buckshot saved my uncle's life. "

"From lynching! That also muz' be insert'!"

Chester thought not. "No, centre the interest in the runaway family, asin mademoiselle's 'Clock in the Sky. '" And so all agreed. 

A second time he walked home with mademoiselle, under the same lenientescort as before. One thus occupied, by moonlight, can moralize as hecannot with any larger number. "It's hard enough at best, " he said, "forus, in our pride of race, to sympathize--seriously--in the joys, thehopes, the sufferings of souls under dark skins yet as human as ours ifnot as white. "

"Yes, 'tis true. Only one man, Mr. Chester, I ever knew, myself, who didthat. "

"Your father?"

"Yes, my dear father. "

"Will you not some day tell me his story?"

"Mr. Castanado will tell you it. Any of those will tell you. "

"I can't question them about you, and besides----"

"Well, here is my gate. 'And besides--' what?"

"Besides, why can't you tell me?"

"Ah, I'll do that--'some day, ' as you say. "

The gate-key went into the lock. 

"But, mademoiselle, our 'Clock in the Sky'--our 'Angel of theLord'--shan't we join them?"

"Ah, they are already one, but you have yet to hear that _first_manuscript, and that is so very separate--as you will see. "

"Isn't it also a story of dark skins?"

"Ah, but barely at all of souls under them; those souls we find it sohard to remember. "

"_Chère fille_"--M. De l'Isle had come up, with Mme. Alexandre--"thethree will go _gran'ly_ together! Not I al-lone perceive that, butScipion also--Castanado--Dubroca. Mr. Chester, my dear sir, thepewblication of that book going to be heard roun' the worl'! Tha'z goingproduse an epoch, that book; yet same time--a bes'-seller!"

Mademoiselle beamed. "Does Mr. Chester think 'twill be that? Abest-seller?"

Chester couldn't prophesy that of any book. "They say not even apublisher can tell. "

"Hah!" monsieur cried, "those cunning pewblisher'! they pref-er _not_ totell. "

"Some poetry, " Chester continued, urged by mademoiselle's eyes, "doesn'tpay the poets over a few thousand a year--per volume; while some novelspay their authors--well--fortunes. "

"That they go, " madame broke in, "and buy some _palaces in Italie_! Andtha'z but the biginning; you have not count' the dramatization--hundredsthe week! and those movie'--the same! and those tranzlation'!"

"Well, I think we will be satisfied, Mr. Chester, with the tenth of that, eh?"

Chester's reply was drowned in monsieur's: "No, my child! Butnine-tenth' _maybe_, yes! No-no-no! if those pewblisher' find out youare satisfi' by one-tenth, one-tenth is all you'll ever see!"

"Ah, " said mademoiselle to madame, "even the one-tenth I mustn't tell tomy aunts. They wouldn't sleep to-night. And myself--'publication, dramatization, movies, translation'--I believe I'll lie awake tilldaylight, making that into a song--a hymn!"

A wonderful sight she was, pausing in the open gate, with the littlehigh-fenced garden at her back, a street-lamp lighting her face. Chesterharked back to that first manuscript. It "ought not to wait anotherweek, " he declared. 

"No, " monsieur said, "and since we all have read that egcept only you. "

Chester looked to mademoiselle: "Then I suppose I might read it with theCastanados alone. "

"No, " madame put in, "you see, you can't riturn at Castanado'simmediately to-morrow or next day. That next day, tha'z Sunday, but youdon't know if madame goin' to have the stren'th for that fati-gue. Yetsame time you can't wait forever! And bisside', yo' Aunt Corinne, AuntYvonne--Mr. Chezter he's never have that lugsury to meet them, and thatwill be a very choice o'casion for Mr. Chezter to do that, if----"

"If he'll take the pains, " the niece broke in, "to call Sunday afternoon. Then I'll have the manuscript back from Mr. Castanado and we'll read itto my Aunt Corinne and my Aunt Yvonne, all four together in the garden. "

"Yes, yet not in this li'l' garden in the front, but in the large, farback from the house, in the h-arbor of 'oneysuckle and by the side of theli'l' lake, eh?" So prompted madame. 

"Assuredly, " said the smiling girl; "not in the front, where is no roomfor a place to sit down!"

Chester's acceptance was eager. Then once more the batten gate closedand the key grated between him and Aline--marvellous, marvellous AlineChapdelaine. 

XIX

The sunbeams of a tedious Sabbath began noticeably to slant. 

For two days, night, morning, noon, and afternoon, Geoffry Chester hadsilently speculated on what he was to see, hear, and otherwise experiencewhen, as early as he might in keeping with the Chapdelaine dignity andhis, he should pull the tiny brass bell-knob on their tall gate-post. 

Chapdelaine! Impressive, patrician title. Impressive too thosebaptismal names; implying a refinement invincible in the vale ofadversity. Killing time up one street and down another--Rampart, Ursuline, Burgundy--he pictured personalities to fit them: for Corinne apresence stately in advanced years and preserved beauty; for Yvonne afragile form suggestive of mother-o'-pearl, of antique lace. Knowledgeof Aline justified such inferences--within bounds. With other charms shehad all these, and must have got them from ancestral sources as trulyMlle. Corinne's and Mlle. Yvonne's as hers. 

"Oh, of course, " he pondered, "there are contrary possibilities. Theymay easily fall short, far short, of her, in outer graces, and show theirkinship only in a reflection of her inner fineness. They may be no moresurprising than those dear old De l'Isles, or the Prieurs, or than Mrs. Thorndyke-Smith. So let it be! Aline----"

"Aline-Aline!" alarmingly echoed his heart. 

"Aline is enough. " Enough? Alas, too much! He felt himself far tooforthpushing in--he would not confess more--a solicitude for her which hecould not stifle; an inextinguishable wish to disentangle her from theofficious care of those by whom she was surrounded--encumbered. "I've noright to this state of mind, " he thought; "none. " He reached the gate. He rang. 

A footfall of daintiest lightness came running! ["Aline-Aline!"] Somight Allegro have tripped it. The key rasped round, ["Aline-Aline!"]the portal drew in, and he found himself getting his first front view ofCupid, the small black satellite. 

A pleasing object. Smaller than ever. White-collared as ever, starchedand brushed to the sheen of a new penny and ugly of face as agargoyle--ugly as his goddess was beautiful. Not merely negroidal, inlips, nose, ears, and tight black wool divided on the absolute equator;not racially but uniquely ugly--till he smiled--and spoke. He smiled andspoke with a joy of soul, a transparency of innocence, a rapture of love, that made his ugliness positively endearing even apart from the entrancedrecognition they radiated. 

"Ladies at home? Yassuh, " he said, with an ecstasy as if he announcedthe world's war suddenly over, all oceans safe, all peoples free. He ledthe way up the cramped white-shell walk with a ceremonial precision thatgave the caller time to notice the garden. It was hardly an empire. Itlay on either side in two right-angled figures, each, say, of sixty byfourteen feet, every foot repeating florally the smile of the child. Therigid beds were curbed with brick water-painted as red as Cupid's gums. The three fences were green with vines, and here and there against thembloomed tall evergreen shrubs. At one upper corner of the main path wasa camellia and at the other a crape-myrtle, symbols respectively, to thevisitor, of Aunt Corinne and Aunt Yvonne. The brick doorstep smiled asred as the garden borders, and as he reached the open door Aline, withher two aunts at her back, received him. 

"Mr. Chester--Mlle. Chapdelaine. Mr. Chester--my Aunt Yvonne. " Neverhad the niece seemed quite so fair--in face, dress, figure, or mentalpoise. She wore that rose whose petals are deep red in their outercircle and pass from middle pink to central white and deepen in tintswith each day's age. If that rose could have been a girl, mind, soul, and all, a Creole girl, there would have been two on one stem. 

And there, on either side of her sat the aunts: the elder much too lean, the younger much too dishevelled, and both as sun-tanned as harvesters, betraying their poverty in flimsy, faded gowns which the dismayed youthnamed to himself not draperies but hangings. Yet they weresweet-mannered, fluent, gay, cordial, and unreserved, though fluttering, twittering, and ultra-feminine. 

The room was like the pair. "Doubtlezz Aline she's told you ab-out that'ouse. No? Ah, chère! is that possible? 'Tis an ancient relique, that'ouse. At the present they don't build any mo' like that 'ouse isbuild'! You see those wall', those floor'? Every wall they are not oflath an' plazter, like to-day; they are of solid plank' of a thicknezz oftwo-inch'--and from Kentucky!"

The guest recognized the second-hand lumber of broken-up flatboats. 

"Tha'z a genuine antique, that 'ouse! Sometime' we think we ought toegspose that 'ouse, to those tourist', admission ten cent'. " [A gaylaugh. ]

"But tha'z only when Aline want' to compel us to buy some new dresses. And tha'z pritty appropriate, that antique 'ouse, for two sizter'themselve' pritty antique--ha, ha, ha!--as well as their anceztors. "

"I fancy they're from 'way back, " said Chester. 

"We are granddaughter' of two _émigrés_ of the Revolution. The other twothey were decapitalize' on that gui'otine. Yet, still, ad the same time, we don't _feel_ antique. We don't feel mo' than ten year'! Andespecially when we are showing those souvenir' of our in-_fancy_. Andthere is nothing we love like that. "

"Aline, _chère_, doubtlezz Mr. Chezter will be very please' to see yo'li'l' dress of baptism! Long time befo', that was also for me, and mysizter. That has the lace and embro'derie of a hundred years aggo, thatli'l' dress of baptism. Show him that! Oh, that is no trouble, that isa _dil_-ight! and if you are please' to enjoy that we'll show you our twodoll', age' forty-three!--bride an' bri'groom. Go, _you_, Yvonne, fedgethem. "

The sister rose but lingered: "Mr. Chezter, you will egscuse if thatbride an' groom don't look pritty fresh; biccause eighteen seventy-threethey have not change' their clothingg!"

"_Chérie_, " said Aline, "I think first we better read the manuscript, and_then_. "

After a breath of hesitation--"Yes! read firs' and _then_. Alway'businezz biffo'!"

All went into the garden; not the part Chester had come through, butanother only a trifle less pinched, at the back of the house. A fewsteps of straight path led them through its stiff ranks of larkspurs, carnations, and the like, to a bower of honeysuckle enclosing two roughwooden benches that faced each other across a six-by-nine goldfish pool. There they had hardly taken seats when Cupid reappeared bearing to thevisitor, on a silver tray, the manuscript. 

It was not opened and dived into with the fine flurry of the modernstage. Its recipient took time to praise the bower and pool, and thesisters laughed gratefully, clutched hands, and merrily called theirniece "tantine. " "You know, Mr. Chezter, 'tantine' tha'z 'auntie, ' an'tha'z j'uz' a li'l' name of affegtion for her, biccause she takes so muchmo' care of us than we of her; you see? But that bower an' that li'l'lake, my sizter an' me we construc' them both, that bower an' that li'l'lake. "

Without blazoning it they would have him know they had not squandered"tantine's" hard earnings on architects and contractors. 

"And we assure you that was not ladies' work. 'Twas not till weeks weachieve' that. That geniuz Aline! _she_ was the arshetec'. And thosegoldfishes--like Aline--are self-su'porting! We dispose them at theapothecary, Dauphine and Toulouse Street--ha, ha, ha! Corinne, tha'z theegstent of commerce we ever been ab'e to make, eh?"

"And now, " said Aline, "the story. "

"Ah, yes, " responded Mlle. Corinne, "at laz' the manuscrip'!" and Mlle. Yvonne echoed, with a queer guilt in her gayety:

"The manuscrip'! the myzteriouz manuscrip'!"

But there the gate bell sounded and she sprang to her feet. Cupid couldanswer it, but some one must be indoors to greet the caller. 

"Yes, you, Yvonne, " the elder sister said, and Aline added: "We'll notread till you return. "

"Ah, yes, yes! Read without me!"

"No-no-no-no-no! We'll wait!"

"We'll wait, Yvonne. " The sister went. 

Chester smoothed out the pages, but then smilingly turned them facedownward, and Aline said:

"First, Hector will tell us who's there. "

Hector was Cupid. He came again, murmuring a name to Mlle. Corinne. Sherose with hands clasped. "C'est M. Et Mme. Rene Ducatel!"

"Well? Hector will give your excuses; you are imperatively engaged. "

"Ah, _chère_, on Sunday evening! Tha'z an incredibility! Must you notlet me go? You 'ave 'Ector. "

"Ah-h! and we are here to read this momentous document to Hector?" Thesparkle of amused command was enchanting to at least one besides Cupid. 

Yet it did not win. "Chère, you make me tremble. Those Ducatel', they've come so far! How can we show them so li'l' civilization whenthey've come so far? An' me I'm convince', and Yvonne she's convince', that you an' Mr. Chezter you'll be ab'e to judge that manuscrip' betteral-lone. Oh, yes! we are convince' of that, biccause, you know--I'm_sorrie_--we are prejudice' in its favor!"

Aline's lifted brows appealed to Chester. "Maybe hearing it, " hehalf-heartedly said, "may correct your aunts' judgment. "

The aunt shook her head in a babe's despair. "No, we've tri' that. " Hersmile was tearful. "Ah, _chérie_, you both muz' pardon. Laz' night wewas both so af-raid about that, an' of a so affegtionate curio-zitie, that we was _compel_' to read that manuscrip' through! An' we areconvince'--though tha'z not ab-out clocks, neither angels, neitherlovers--yet same time tha'z a moz' marvellouz manuscrip'. Biccause, youknow, tha'z a true story, that 'Holy Crozz. ' Tha'z concerning aninsurregtion of slave'--there in Santa Cruz. And 'a slave insurregtion, 'tha'z what they ought to call it, yes!--to prom-ote the sale. Alreadylaz' night Yvonne she say she's convince' that in those Northron citie', where they are since lately _so fon_' of that subjec', there be people by_dozen_'--will _devour_ that story!"

She tripped off to the house. 

"Hector, " said Aline, "you may sit down. "

Cupid slid into the vacated seat. Chester dropped the document into hispocket. 

"For what?" the girl archly inquired. 

"I want to take it to my quarters and judge it there. Why shouldn't I?"

"Yes, you may do that. "

"And now tell me of your father, or his father--the one Beloiseauknew--Théophile Chapdelaine. "

"Both were Théophile. He knew them both. "

"Then tell me of both. "

"Mr. Chester, 'twould be to talk of myself!"

"I won't take it so. Tell the story purely as theirs. It must be fine. They were set, in conscience, against the conscience of their day----"

"So is Mr. Chester. "

"Never mind that, either. We're in a joint commercial enterprise; wewant a few good stories that will hang on one stem. Our business isbusiness; a primrose by the river's brim--nothing more! Although"--thespeaker reddened----

The girl blushed. "Mr. Chester, take away the 'although' and I'll tellthe story. "

"I take it away. Although----"

XX

THE CHAPDELAINES

"A yellow primrose was to him----"

Yonder in the parlor with the Ducatels, ignorant of the poet's lines asthey, the two aunts--those two consciously irremovable, unadjustable, incarnated interdictions to their niece's marriage--saw the primrose, the "business, " as the pair in the bower thought they saw itthemselves. Were not Aline and Chester immersed in that tale ofservile insurrection so destitute of angels, guiding stars, and lovers?And was not Hector with them? And are not three as truly a crowd inFrench as in American?

"Well, to begin, " Chester urged, "your grandfather, ThéophileChapdelaine, was born in this old quarter, in such a street. Royal?"

"Yes. Nearly opposite the ladies' entrance of that Hotel St. Louis nowperishing. "

"Except its dome. I hear there's a movement----

"Yes, to save that. I hope 'twill succeed. To me that old dome is amonument of those two men. "

"But if it comes down the home remains, opposite, where both were born, were they not?"

"Yes. Yet I'd rather the dome. We Creoles, you know, are called veryconservative. "

"Yet no race is more radical than the French. "

"True. And we Chapdelaines have always been radical. _Grandpère_ was, though a slaveholder. "

"Oh, none of _my_ ancestors justified slavery, yet as planters they hadto own negroes. "

"But the Chapdelaines were not planters. They were agents of ships. Fifty times on one page in the old _Picayune_, or in _L'Abeille_--'Forfreight or passage apply to the master on board or to T. Chapdelaine &Son, agents. ' Even then there were two Théophiles, and grandpapa wasthe son. They were wholesale agents also for French exporters ofartistic china, porcelain, glass, bronze. Twice they furnished thehotel with everything of that kind; when it first opened, and when itchanged hands. That's how they came to hold stock in it. Grandpapa, outdoor man of the firm, was every day in the rotunda, under that dome. "

"Yes, " Chester said, "it was a kind of Rialto, I know. They called itthe 'Exchange, ' as earlier they had called Maspero's. "

"You love our small antiquities. So do I. Well, grandpapa did muchbusiness there, both of French goods and of ships; and because thehotel was the favorite of the sugar-planters its rotunda was one of theprincipal places for slave auctions. "

"Yes, they were, I know, almost daily. The old slave-block is shownthere yet, if genuine. "

"Ah, genuine or not, what difference? From one that _was_ there_grandpère_ bought many slaves. He and his father speculated in them. "

"Why! How strange! The son? _your_ grandfather? the radical, whomarried--'Maud'?"

"Yes, the last slave he bought was for her. "

"Why, why, why! He couldn't have met her be'--well--before the year ofLincoln's election. "

"No, let me tell you. You remember 'Sidney'?"

"'Maud's' black maid? my uncle's Euonymus? Yes. "

"Well, when she came to Maud, at Maud's home, in the North, she wasstill in agony about Mingo, who'd been recaptured. So Maud wroteSouth, to her aunt, who wrote back: 'Yes, he had been brought home, andat creditor's auction had been sold to a slave-trader to be resold herein New Orleans. ' So then Sidney begged Maud, who by luck was cominghere, to bring her here to find him. "

"Brave Sidney. Brave Euonymus. "

"Yes--although--her Southern mistress--I know not how legally--had sentto her her free-paper. That made it safer, I suppose, eh?"

"Yes. But--who told you all this so exactly--your _grand'mère_herself, or your _grandpère_?"

"Ah--she, no. I never saw her. And _grandpère_--no, he was killedbefore I was born. "

"_What_?"

"Yes, all that I'll come to. This I'm telling now is from my own papa. He had it from _grandpère_. _Grand'mère_ and Sidney came with friends, a gentleman and his wife, by ship from New York. "

"And all put up at Hotel St. Louis?"

"Yes. From there Maud and Sidney began their search. But now, first, about that speculating in slaves: those two Théophiles, first thefather, then both, hated slavery. 'Twas by nature and in everythingthat they were radical. Their friends knew that, even when they onlysaid, 'Oh, you are extreme!' or 'Those Chapdelaines are extremist. ' Inthose years from about eighteen-forty to 'sixty----"

"When the slavery question was about to blaze----"

"Yes--they voted Whig. That was the most antislavery they could voteand stay here. But under the rose they said: 'All right! extremist, yet Whig; we'll be extreme Whig of a new kind. We'll trade in slaves. '"

Chester laughed. "I begin to see, " he said, and by a sidelong glancebade Aline note the rapt attention of Cupid. Her answering smile wasso confidential that his heart leaped. 

"I'll tell you by and by about that also, " she murmured, and thenresumed: "While _grandpère_ was yet a boy his father had begun that, that slave-buying. On that auction-block he would often see a slaveabout to be sold much below value, or whose value might easily beincreased by training to some trade. You see?--blacksmith, lady'smaid, cook, hair-dresser, engine-driver, butler?"

Chester darkened. "So he made the thing pay?"

"_Seem_ to pay. Looking so simple, so ordinary, 'twas but a mask forsomething else. "

"But in a thing looking so ordinary had he no competitors, to makeprofits difficult?"

"Ah, of a kind, yes; but the men who could do that best would not do itat all. They would not have been respected. "

"But T. Chapdelaine & Son were respected. "

"Yes, _in spite_ of that. Their friends said: 'Let the extremists beextreme that way. '"

"The public mind was not yet quite in flames. "

"No. But--guess who helped _grandpère_ do that. "

"Why, do I know him? Castanado. "

The girl shook her head. 

"Who? Beloiseau?"

"Ah, you! You can guess better. "

"Ovide Lan'--no, Ovide was still a slave. "

"Yet more free than most free negroes. 'Twas he. He was janitor tooffices in the hotel, and always making acquaintance with the slaves ofthe slave-mart. And when he found one who was quite of the rightkind--and Ovide he's a wise judge of men, you know--he would show himto _grandpère_, and at the auction, if the bidding was low, _grandpère_would buy him--or her. "

"What was one of 'quite the right kind'? One willing to buy his ownfreedom?"

"Ah, also to do something more; you see?"

"Yes, I see, " Chester laughed; "to help others run away, wasn't it?"

"Not precisely to run, but----"

"To stow away, on those ships, h'm?" There was rapture in crossing that_h'm_ line of intimacy. "I see it all! Ha-ha, I see it all! Well!that brings us back to 'Maud, ' doesn't it--h'm?"

"Yes. They met, she and grandpère, at a ball, in the hotel. But"--Aline smiled--"that was not their first. Their first was two orthree mornings before, when he, passing in Royal Street, and she--withSidney--looking at old buildings in Conti Street----"

"Mademoiselle! That happened to _them_?--_there_?"

"Yes, to _them_, _there_. " With level gaze narrator and listenerregarded each other. Then they glanced at Cupid. His eyes wereshining on them. 

"Who is our young friend, anyhow?" asked Chester. 

"Ah, I suppose you have guessed. He is the grandson of Sidney. "

XXI

"And another time, on the morning just before the ball, " said Aline, returning to the story, "they had seen each other again. That was atthe slave-auction. That night, before the ball was over, she and_grandpère_ understood--knew, each, from the other, why the other wasat that auction; and he had promised her to find Mingo. 

"Well, after weeks, Ovide helping, all at once there was Mingo, in thegang, by the block, waiting his turn to go on it. Picture that! Anytime I want to shut my eyes I can see it, and I think you can do thesame, h'm?"

Blessed _h'm_; 'twas the flower--of the Chapdelaines--humming back tothe bee. Said the bee, "We'll try it there together some day, h'm?"and Cupid mutely sparkled:

"Oh, by all means! the three of us!"

The flower ignored them both. "There was the auctioneer, " she said;"there were the slaves, there the crowd of bidders; between them theblock, above them the beautiful dome. Very soon Mingo was on theblock, and the first bid was from Sidney. She was the only one in ahurry except Mingo. He was trying to see her, but she was hiding fromhim behind _grandpère_; yet not from the auctioneer. The auctioneerstopped. 

"'Who authorized you to bid here?' he asked her. 

"'Nobody, sir; I's free. ' She held up her paper. 

"_Grandpère_ nodded to the auctioneer. 

"'Will Mr. Chapdelaine please read it out?'

"He read it out, signature and all. 

"'Anybody know any one of that name?' the auctioneer asked, and_grand'mère_ said:

"'That's my aunt. This free girl is my maid. "

"'Oh, bidding for you?' he said; and grand'mere said no, the girl wasbidding on her own account, with her own money. 

"'What kind of money? We can't take shinplasters. ' For 'twas then'sixty-one--year of secession, you know. 

"'Gold!' Sidney called out, and held it up in a black stocking, so highthat every one laughed. "

"Not Mingo, I fancy. "

"Ah, no, nor the keeper of the gang. "

"--Wonder how Mingo was behaving. "

"He? he was shaking and weeping, and begging this and that of the manwho held and threatened him, to keep him quiet. So then the auctioneerbegan to call Sidney's bid. You know how that would be: 'Gentlemen, I'm offered five hundred dollars. Cinq cent piastres, messieurs! Onlyfive hundred for this likely boy worth all of nine! Who'll say six?Going at five hundred, what do I hear?' But he heard nothingtill--'third and last call!' Then the owner of the gang nodded and theauctioneer called out, 'six hundred!"'

"And did Sidney raise it?"

"No, she wept aloud. 'Oh, my brotheh!' she cried, 'Lawd save my po'brotheh! I's los' him ag'in! I done bid my las' dollah at de fustcall!'"

"And Mingo knew her voice, spied her out?"

"Yes, and holloed, 'Sidney! sisteh!' till _grand-mère_ wept too and aman called out, 'No one bid that six hundred!' But _grandpère_ said:'I bid six-fifty and will tell all about this _unlikely_ boy if hisowner bids again. '

"So Mingo was sold to _grandpère_. 'And now, ' _grandpère_ whispered to_grand-mère_ and her friends, 'go pack trunks for the ship as fast asyou can. '"

"And they parted like that? But of course not!"

"No, only expected to. In the Gulf, at the mouth of the river, aConfederate privateer"--the narrator's voice faded out. She began torise. Her aunts were returning. 

XXII

Mademoiselle, we say, began to rise. Chester stood. Also Cupid. Theaunts drew near, speaking with infantile lightness:

"Finizh' already that reading? You muz' have gallop'! Well, and whatis Mr. Chezter's conclusion on that momentouz manuscrip'?"

The niece hurried to answer first: "Ah! we must not ask that soimmediately. Mr. Chester concludes 'tis better for all that he studythat an evening or two in his seclusion. "

"And! you did not read it through together?"

"No, there was no advantage to----"

"Oh! advantage! An' you stop' in the mi'l of that momentouz souvenirof the pas'! Tha'z astonizhing that _anybody_ could do that, an' leas'of all" [confronting Chester] "the daughter of a papa an' gran'papawith such a drama-tique bio-graphie! Mr. Chezter, to pazz the timeAline ought to 'ave tell you that bio-graphie, yes!--of our marvellouzbrother an' papa. Ah, you should some day egstort _that_ story fromour too li'l' communicative girl. "

"Why not to-day, for the book?"

"Oh, no-no-no-no-o! We di'n' mean that!" The sisters laughedexcessively. "A young lady to put her own papa into a book--ah!im-pos-si-ble!"

They laughed on. "Even my sizter an' me, we have never let anybodyegstort that, an' we don't know if Aline ever be persuade'----"

"Yes, some day I'll tell Mr. Chezter--whatever he doesn't know already. "

"Ha-ha! we can be sure tha'z not much, Aline. And, Corinne, if he's_heard_ this or that, tha'z the more reason to tell him co'rec'ly. Only, my soul! not to put in the book, no!"

"Ah, no! Though as between frien', yes. And, moreover, to Mr. Chezter, yes, biccause tha'z so much abbout that Hotel St. Louis and heis so appreciative to old building'. Ah, we've notice' that incident!Tha'z the cause that we egs'ibit you our house--as a relique of thepas'--Yvonne! we are forgetting!--those souvenir' of our in-fancy--toshow them! Come--all!"

Half-way to the house--"Ah, ha-ha! another subjec' of interess! See, Mr. Chezter; see coming! Marie Madeleine! She's mis' both her belovedmiztress' from the house and become anxious, our beautiful cat! Wename' her Marie Madeleine because her great piety! You know, tha'z thesacred truth, that she never catch' a mice on Sunday. "

"Ah, neither the whole of Lent!"

In the parlor--"I really think, " Chester said, "I must ask you to letme take another time for the souvenirs. I'm so eager to save thismanuscript any further delay--" He said good-by. 

Yet he did not hurry to his lodgings. He had had an experience toogreat, too rapt, to be rehearsed in his heart inside any small, meanroom. All the open air and rapid transit he could get were not toomuch, till at lamplight he might sit down somewhere and hold himself tothe manuscript. 

Meantime the Chapdelaines had been but a moment alone when morevisitors rang--a pair! Their feet could be seen under the gate--twomale, two female--that is not a land where women have men's feet. Flattering, fluttering adventure--five callers in one afternoon!"Aline, we are becoming a public institution!" The aunts sprang here, there, and into collision; Cupid sped down the walk; Marie Madeleinestood in the door. 

And who were these but the dear De l'Isles!

"No, " they would not come inside. "But, Corinne, Yvonne, Aline, run, toss on hats for a trip to Spanish Fort. "

One charm of that trip is that the fare is but, five cents, and thecrab gumbo no dearer than in town. "Come! No-no-no, not one, but thethree of you. In pure compassion on us! For, as sometimes in heavenamong cherubim, we are _ennuyés_ of each other!"

The small half-hourly electric train in Rampart Street had barelystarted lakeward into Canal, with the De l'Isle-Chapdelaine five aboardand the sun about to set, when Geoffry Chester entered--and stoppedbefore monsieur, stiff with embarrassment. Nevertheless that made thema glad six, and, as each seat was for two, the two with life beforethem took one. 

XXIII

The small public garden, named for an old redout on the lake shore atthe mouth of Bayou St. John was filled with a yellow sunset as Chesterand Aline moved after the aunts and the De l'Isles from the train intoa shell walk whose artificial lights at that moment flashed on. 

"So far from that, " he was saying, "a story may easily be improved, clarified, beautified, by--what shall I say?--by filtering down througha second and third generation of the right tellers and hearers. "

"Ah, yes! the right, yes! But----"

"And for me you're supremely the right one. "

Instantly he rued his speech. Some delicate mechanism seemed to stop. Had he broken it? As one might lay a rare watch to his ear he waited, listening, while they stood looking off to where water, sky, and sunmet; and presently, to his immeasurable relief, she responded:

"_Grandpère_ was not at that time such a very young man, yet he stilllived with his father. So when _grand'mère_ and her two friends--withSidney and Mingo--returned from the privateer to the hotel they wereopposite neighbors to the Chapdelaines and almost without anotherfriend, in a city--among a people--on fire with war. Then, prettysoon--" the fair narrator stopped and significantly smiled. 

Chester twinkled. "Um-h'm, " he said, "your _grandpère's_ heart becameanother city on fire. "

"Yes, and 'twas in that old hotel--with the war storm coming, liketo-day only everything much more close and terrible, business dead, soldiers every day going to Virginia--you must make Mr. Thorndyke-Smithtell you about that--'twas in that old hotel, at a great free-giftlottery and bazaar, lasting a week, for aid of soldiers' families, andin a balcony of the grand salon, that _grandpère_--" the narratorceased and smiled again. 

"Proposed, " Chester murmured. 

The girl nodded. They sank to a bench, the world behind them, thestars above. "_Grand'mére_, she couldn't say yes till he'd first go toher home, almost at the Canadian line, and ask her family. She, shecouldn't go; she couldn't leave Sidney and Mingo and neither could shetake them. So by railroad at last he got there. But her family tookso long to consent that he got back only the next year and through thefall of the city. Only by ship could he come, and not till he hadbegged President Lincoln himself and promised him to work with hismight to return Louisiana to the Union. Well, of course, he and hisfather had voted against secession, weeping; yet now this was a pledgeterrible to keep, and the more because, you see? what to do, and whenand how to do it----"

"Were left to his own judgment and tact?"

"Oh, and honor! But anyhow he came. Doubtless, bringing the writtenpermission of the family, he was happy. Yet to what bitternesses--canwe say bitternesses in English?"

"Indeed we can, " said Chester. 

"To what bitternesses _grandpére_ had to return!"

"Aline!" Mme. De l'Isle called; "à table!"

"Yes, madame. Tell me--you, Mr. Chester--to your vision, how all thatmust have been. "

"Paint in your sketch? Let me try. Maybe only because you tell thestory, but maybe rather because it's so easy to see in you areincarnation of your _grand'mére_--a Creole incarnation of that young'Maud'--what I see plainest is she. I see her here, two thousand milesfrom home, with but three or four friends among a quarter of a millionenemies. I see her on the day the city fell, looking up and down RoyalStreet from a balcony of the hotel, while from the great dome a fewsteps behind her the Union fleet could be seen, rounding the first tworiver bends below the harbor, engaging a last few Confederate guns atthe old battle-ground, and coming on, with the Stars and Stripes atevery peak. I see her----"

"She was beautiful, you know--_grand'mére_. "

"Yes, I see her so, looking down from that balcony, awestruck, notfearstruck, on the people who in agonies of rage and terror fled thecity by pairs and families, or in armed squads and unarmed mobs sweptthrough the streets and up and down the levee, burning, breaking, andplundering. "

"But that was the worst anybody did, you know. "

"Oh, yes. We never knew till to-day's war came how humane that warwas. It wasn't a war in which beauty, age, and infancy were hideousperils. "

"Ah, never mind about that to-day. But about _grandpère_ and_grand'mère_ go on. Let me see how much you can imagine correctly, h'm?"

"Please, mademoiselle, no. Time has made you--through your father'seyes--they say you have them--an eye-witness. So next you see your_grandpère_ getting back at last, by ship--go on. "

"Yes, I see that, in a harbor whose miles of wharfs without ships criedto him: 'our occupation and your fortune are gone!' Also I see himagain in the streets--Royal, Chartres, Canal, Carondelet--where oldfriends pass him with a stare. I see him and _grand'mère_ married atlast, in a church nearly empty and even the priest unfriendly. "

"Had he no new friends, Unionists?"

"Not yet, at the wedding. There he said: 'Old friends or none. ' Andthat was right, don't you think? Later 'twas different. You see, inthe navy, both of the rivers and the sea, as likewise the army, _grand'mère_ had uncles and cousins; and when the hotel was made amilitary hospital she was there every day. And naturally thosecousins, whether from hospital or no, would call and even bringfriends. Well, of course, _grandpère_ was, at the least, courteous!And then there was his word of honor, to Mr. Lincoln, as also his owndesire, to bring the State back into the Union. "

"Of course. Don't hurry, please. "

"Was I hurrying? Pardon, but I'm afraid they'll be calling us again. "The pair rose, but stood. "Well, when a kind of government was made ofthat part of the State held by the Union, and the military governorwanted both _grandpère_ and his father to take some public offices, hisfather made excuse of his age and of a malady--taken from thathospital--which soon occasioned him to die. "

"I've seen his tomb, in St. Louis cemetery, with its epitaph of barelytwo words--'Adieu, Chapdelaine. ' Who supplied that? Old friends, after all?"

"A few old, a few new, and one the governor. "

"Did the governor propose the words?"

"No. If I tell you you won't tell? Ovide. But _grandpère_ he tookthe office. And so that put him yet more distant from old friendsexcept just two or three who believed the same as he did. "

"And our Royal Street coterie, of course. "

"Ah, not those you see now; but their parents, yes. They werefaithful; though sometimes, some of them, sympathizing differently. Well, and so there was _grandpère_ working to repair a _piece_ of theState, when at last the war finished and the reconstruction of thewhole State commenced. He and Ovide were both of that State conventionthey mobbed in the 'July riot. ' Some men were killed in that riot. _Grandpère_ was wounded, also Ovide. Those were awful times to_grand'mère_, those years of the reconstruction. _Grandpère_ he--"The girl glanced backward, then turned again, smiling. The fourchaperons were going indoors without them. 

"Yes, " Chester said, "your _grandpère_ I can imagine----"

"Well, go ahead; imagine, to me. "

"No. No, except just enough to see him with no choice of partyallegiance but between a rabble up to the elbows in robbery and an oldrégime red-handed with the rabble's blood. "

"Ah, so papa told me, after _grandpère_ was long gone, and me on hisknee asking questions. 'Reconstruction, my dear child--' once heanswered me, ''twas like trying to drive, on the right road, a frantichorse in a rotten harness, and with the reins under his tail!' Ah, Iwish you could have known him, Mr. Chester--my father!"

"I know his daughter. "

"Well, I suppose--I suppose we must go in. "

"With the story almost finished?"

"We'll, maybe finish inside--or--some day. "

XXIV

T. CHAPDELAINE & SON

The seniors were found at a table for four. 

Mme. De l'Isle explained: "But! with only four to sit down there, howwas it possib' to h-ask for a tab'e for six? That wou'n' be logical!"

When the waiter offered to add a smaller table and make one snug boardfor six--"No, " she said; "for feet and hands that be all right; but forthe _mind_, ah! You see, Mr. Chezter, M. De l'Isle he's also precizelyin the mi'l' of a moze overwhelming story of his own------"

"Hiztorical!" the aunts broke in. "Well-known! abbout old house! inthe _vieux carré_!"

"And, " madame insisted, "'twould ruin that story, to us, to commenze tohear it over, while same time 'twould ruin it to you to commenze tohear it in the mi'l'. And beside', Aline, you are doubtlezz yet in themi'l' of your own story and--waiter! make there at that firz' window atab'e for two, and" [to the pair] "we'll run both storie' ad the sametime--if not three!"

"Like that circ'"--the aunts fell into tears of laughter. They touchedeach other with finger-tips, cried, "Like that circuz of Barnum!" andrepeated to the De l'Isles and then to Aline, "Like that circuz ofBarnum an' Bailey!"

At the table for two, as the gumbo was uncovered and Chester asked howit was made, "Ah!" said Aline, "for a veritable gumbo what you wantmost is enthusiasm. The enthusiasm of both my aunts would not be toomuch. And to tell how 'tis made you'd need no less, that would be astory by itself, third ring of the circus. "

"Then tell me, further, of '_grandpère_'"

"And grand'mère? Yes, I must, as I learned about them on papa's knee. Mamma never saw them; they had been years gone when papa first knewher. But Sidney I knew, when she was old and had seen all thosedreadful times; and, though she often would not tell me the story, shewould tell me what to ask papa; you see? You would have liked to talkwith Sidney about old buildings. Mr. Chester, I think it is not thatin New Orleans we are so picturesque, but that all the rest of ourcountry--in the cities--is so starved for the picturesque. Sidneywould have told you that story monsieur is telling now as well as allthe strange history of that old Hotel St. Louis. First, after the warit was changed back from a hospital to a hotel. I think 'twas thenthey called it Hotel Royal. Anyhow 'twas again very fine. Grandpèreand grand'mère were often in that salon where he had first--as theysay--spoken. Because, for one thing, there they met people of theoutside world without the local prejudices, you know?"

"At that time bitter and vindictive?"

"Oh, ferocious! And there they met also people of the most--dignity. "

"Above the average of the other hotels?"

"Well, not so--so brisk. "

"Not so American?"

"Ah, you know. Well, maybe that's one reason the St. Charles, forexample, continued, while the Royal did not. Anyhow theRoyal--grandpère had the life habit of it and 'twas just across thestreet. Daily they ate there; a real economy. "

"But they kept the old home. "

"Yes. 'Twas furnished the same but not 'run' the same. 'Twas verydifficult to keep it, even with all three stories of the servants' wingshut up, you know?--like"--a glance indicated the De l'Isles. 

"But you say Hotel Royal was soon closed. "

"Yes, and then, in the worst of those days, it became the capitol. There, in the most elegant hotel for the most elegant planters of theSouth--anyhow Southwest--sat their slaves, with white men even moreabhorred, and made the laws. In that old dome, second story, they puta floor across, and there sat the Senate! Just over that auction-blockwhere grandpère had bought Mingo. "

"Where was he--Mingo?"

"Dead--of drink. Grandpère was in that government! Long time he wassenator. Mr. Chester, _for that_ papa was proud of him, and I amproud. "

The listener was proud of her pride. "I know, " he said, "from my ownpeople, that in such an attitude--as your grandfather's--there washonor a plenty for any honorable man. Ovide tells me the negroes neverwanted negro supremacy. I wonder if that's so. They were often, hesays, madly foolish and corrupt; yet their fundamental lawmaking wasmostly good. I know the State's constitution was; it was ahead of thetimes. "

Aline made a quick gesture: "And any of the old masters who agreed tothat could help lead!"

"Mademoiselle, how could they agree to it? Some did, I know, butthat's the wonder. Those that could not--who can blame them?"

"Ah! 'tis no longer a question of blame but of judgment. So papa usedto say. Anyhow grandpère agreed, accepted, led; until at the last, oneday, that White League--you've heard of them, how they armed anddrilled and rose against that reconstruction police in a battle on thesteamboat landing? Grandpère was in that. He commanded part of thereconstruction forces. And papa was there, though only thirteen. Grandpère was bayonet-wounded. They carried him away bleeding. Onlyat the State-house a surgeon met them, and there, under that dome, justas papa brought grand'mère and Sidney, he died. " Mademoiselle ceased. 

Chester waited, but she glanced to the other table. Monsieur had endedhis recital. Madame and the aunts chatted merrily. Smilingly theniece's eyes came back. 

"Don't stop, " said Chester. "What followed--for 'Maud'--Sidney--yourboy father--your little-girl aunts? Did the clock in the sky call themNorth again?"

"No. " The speaker rose. "I'll tell you on the train; I hear itcoming. "

XXV

"There's a train every half-hour, " Chester said. 

"Yes, but the day-laborer must be home early. "

On the train--"Well, " the youth urged, "your _grand'mère_ stayed in theold home, I hope, with the three children--and Sidney?"

"Only till she could sell it. But that was nearly three years, andthey were hard, those three. But at last, by the help of that RoyalStreet coterie--who were good friends, Mr. Chester, when friends werescarce--she sold both house and furniture--what was by that timeremaining--and bought that place where we are now living. "

"Was there no life-insurance?"

"A little. We have the yearly interest on it still. 'Tis very small, yet a great help--to my aunts. I tell that only to say that papa wouldnever touch it when he and my aunts--and afterward mamma--were in verynarrow places. "

Chester perceived another reason for the telling of it; the niecewanted to escape the credit of being the sole support of her aunts. She read his thought but ignored it. 

"Papa was very old for his age, " she continued. "You may see that byhis being in the battle with _grandpère_ at thirteen years. Andbecause of that precocity he got much training of the mind--andspirit--from _grandpère_ that usually is got much later. I think thatis what my aunts mean when they tell you papa's life was dramatic. It_was_ so, yet not in the manner they mean, the manner of _grandpère's_life; you understand?"

"You mean it was not melodramatic?"

"Ah! the word I wanted! Mr. Chester, when we get over being children, those of us who do, why do we try so hard to live without melodrama?"

"Oh, mademoiselle, you know well enough. You know that's whatmelodrama does, itself? What is it, in essence, but a struggle to riseout of itself into a higher drama, of the spirit----?"

"A divine comedy! Yes. Well, that is what my father's life seems tome. "

"With tragic elements in it, of course?"

"Oh! How could it be high comedy without? But except that one battlethe tragedy was not--eh--crude, like _grandpère's_; was not physical. Once he said to me: 'There are things in life, in the refined life, very quiet things, that are much more tragic than bloodshed or death orthe defying of death. '"

"In the refined life, " Chester said musingly. 

"Yes! and he _was_ refined, yet never weak. 'Strength, ' he said, 'valor, truth, they are the foundations; better be dead than withoutthem. Yet one can have them, in crude form, and still better be dead. The noble, the humane, the chaste, the beautiful, 'tis with them webuild the superstructure, the temple, of life--Mr. Chester, if you knewFrench I could tell you that better. "

"I doubt it. Go on, please, time's a-flying. "

"Well, you see how tragic was that life! Papa saw it and said: 'Itshall not be tragic alone. I will build on it a comedy higher, finer, than tragedy. That's what life is for; mine, yours, the world's, ' hesaid to me. Mr. Chester, you can imagine how a daughter would love afather like that, and also how mamma loved him--for years--before theycould marry. "

"Your mother was a Creole, I suppose?"

"No, mamma was French. After _grand'mère_ had followed_grandpère_--above--papa, looking up some of the once employees of T. Chapdelaine & Son, to raise the old concern back to life, arranged withthem that while they should reinstitute it here he would go live inFrance, close to the producers of the finest goods possible. You see?And he did that many years with a kind of success; but smaller andsmaller, because little by little the taste for those refinements waspassing, while those department stores and all that kind of thing--youunderstand--h'm?"

The train stopped in Rampart Street, and when one aunt, with madame, and one with monsieur, had followed the junior pair out of thesnarlings and hootings of Canal Street's automobiles and to the quietsidewalks of the old quarter----

"Well?" said Chester, slowing down, and----

"Well, " said Aline, "about mamma: ah, 'tis wonderful how they weresuited to each other, those two. Almost from the first of his livingthere, in France, they were acquainted and much together. She was of afine ancestry, but without fortune; everything lost in the German war, eighteen seventy. They were close neighbor to a convent very famousfor its wonderful work of the needle and of the bobbin. 'Twas thereshe received her education. And she and papa could have married anytime if he could promise to stay always there, in France. But thebusiness couldn't assure that; and so, for years and years, you see?"

"Yes, I see. "

"But then, all at once, almost in a day, mamma, she found herself anorphan, with no inheritance but poor relations and they with alreadytoo many orphans in their care. For, as my aunts say, joking, thatseems to run in our family, to become orphans. 

"They are very fond of joking, my aunts. And so, because to thoseFrench relations America seemed a cure for all troubles, they allowedpapa to marry mamma and bring her here to live, where I was born, andwhere they lived many, many years so happily, because so bravely----"

"And in such refinement--of spirit?"

"Ah, yes, yes. And where we are yet inhabiting, as you perceive, myaunts and me, and--as you see yonder this moment waiting us in thegate--Hector and Marie Madeleine!"

Alone with the De l'Isles in Royal Street Chester asked, "And thebusiness--Chapdelaine & Son?"

"Ah, sinz' long time liquidate'! All tha'z rim-aining is Mme. Alexandre. Mr. Chezter, y' ought to put that! That ought to go in thebook, " said monsieur. 

"If we could only avoid a disjointed effect. "

"Dizjoin'--my dear sir! They are going to read thad book _biccause_the dizjointed--by curio-zity. You'll see! That Am-erican pewblicthey have a passion, an _insanitie_, for the dizjointed!"

XXVI

The week so blissfully begun in the Chapdelaines' garden and at SpanishFort was near its end. 

The _Courier des Etats-Unis_ had told the Royal Street coterie ofmighty doings far away in Italy, of misdoings in Galicia, and ofhorrors on the Atlantic fouler than all its deeps can ever cleanse; butnothing was yet reported to have "tranzpired" in the _vieux carré_. The fortunes of "the book" seemed becalmed. 

It was Saturday evening. The streets had just been lighted. Mlles. Corinne and Yvonne, dingy even by starlight, were in one ofthem--Conti. Now they turned into Royal, and after them turned Chesterand Aline. Presently the four entered the parlor of the Castanados. Their coming made its group eleven, and all being seated Castanado rose. 

After the proper compliments--"They were called, " he said, "toreceive----"

"And discuss, " Chester put in. 

"To receive and discuss the judgment of their----"

"The suggestions, " Chester amended. 

"The judgment and suggestion' of their counsel, how tha'z best topublish the literary treasure they've foun' and which has egspand' fromone story to three or four. Biccause the one which was firzt acquire'is laztly turn' out to be the only one of a su'possibleincompat'--eh--in-com-pat-a-bil-ity--to the others. " His bow yieldedthe floor to Chester. "Remain seated, if you please, " he said. 

"In spite of my wish to save this manuscript all avoidable delay, "Chester began, "I've kept it a week. I like it--much. I think that inquieter times, with the reading world in a more contemplative mood, anypublisher would be glad to print it. At the same time it seems to meto have faults of construction that ought to come out of it before itgoes to a possibly unsympathetic publisher. Yet after--was Mme. Alexandre about----?"

"Juz' to say tha'z maybe better those fault' are there. If thepublisher be not _sympathetique_ we want him to rif-use thatmanuscrip'. "

"Yes!" several responded. "Yes! He can't have it! Tha'z the en' of_that_ publisher. "

"Well, at any rate, " Chester said, "after using up this whole weektrying, fruitlessly, to edit those faults out of it, here it isunaltered. I still feel them, but I have to confess that to feel themis one thing and to find them is quite another. Maybe they're only inme. "

"Tha'z the only plase they are, " said Dubroca, with kind gravity. "Ihad the same feeling--till a dream, which reveal' to me that thefeeling was my fault. The manuscrip' is perfec'. "

"Messieurs, " Mme. Castanado broke in, "please to hear Mlle. Aline. "And Aline spoke:

"Perfect or no, I think that's what we don't require to conclude. Butif that manuscript will join well with those other two--or three, orfour, if we find so many--or if it will rather disjoint them--'tis thatwe must decide; is it not, M. De l'Isle?"

"Yes, and tha'z easy. That story is going to assimilate those other'to a perfegtion! For several reason'. Firz', like those other', 'tisnot figtion; 'tis true. Second, like those, 'tis a personalegsperienze told by the person egsperienzing. Third, every one ofthose person' were known to some of us, an' we can certify that personthat he or she was of the greatez' veracity! Fourth, the United Statesthey've juz' lately purchaze' that island where that story tranzpire. And, fifthly, the three storie' they are joint'; not stiff', likeboard' of a floor, but loozly, like those link' of a chain. They arejointed in the subjec' of friddom! 'Tis true, only friddom of negro', yet still--friddom! An', _messieurs et mesdames_, that is now theprecise moment when that whole worl' is _wile_ on that _topique_;friddom of citizen', friddom of nation', friddom of race', friddom ofthe sea'! And there is ferociouz demand for short storie' joint' onthat _topique_, biccause now at the lazt that whole worl' is biccomefuriouzly conscientiouz to get at the bottom of that _topique_; an'biccause those negro' are the lowez' race, they are there, of co'se, adthe bottom!"

"M. Beloiseau?" the chair--hostess--said; and Scipion, with languor inhis voice but a burning fervor in his eye, responded:

"I think Mr. Chezter he's speaking with a too great modestie--or else_dip_-lomacie. Tha'z not good! If _fid_-elitie to art inspire me aconceitednezz as high"--his upthrown hand quivered at arm's length--"asthe flagpole of Hotel St. Louis dome yonder, tha'z better than amodestie withoud that. That origin-al manuscrip' we don't want thatag-ain; we've all read that. But I think Mr. Chezter he's also maybegot that _riv_-ision in his pocket, an' we ought to hear, now, at ones, that _riv_-ision!"

Miles. Corinne and Yvonne led the applause, and presently Chester wasreading:

XXVII

THE HOLY CROSS

This is a true story. Only that fact gives me the courage to tell it. It happened. 

It occurred under my own eyes when they were far younger than now, on abeautiful island in the Caribbean, some twelve hundred milessoutheastward from Florida, the largest of the Virgin group--the islandof the Holy Cross. Its natives called it Aye-Aye. Columbus piouslynamed it Santa Cruz and bore away a number of its people to Spain asslaves, to show them what Christians looked like in quantity and howthey behaved to one another and to strangers. You can hear much aboutSanta Cruz from anybody in the rum-trade. 

It has had many owners. As with the woman in the Sadducee's riddle, she of many husbands, seven political powers have had this mermaid asbride. Spain, the English, the Dutch, the Spaniards again, the French, the Knights of Malta, the French again, who sold her to the GuianaCompany, who in 1734 passed her over to the Danes, from whom theEnglish captured her in 1807 but restored her again at the close ofNapoleon's wars. Thus, at last, Denmark prevailed as the ruling power;but English remained the speech of the people. The island is abouttwenty-three miles long by six wide. Its two towns are Christianstedon the north and Fredericksted on the south. Christiansted is thecapital. 

In 1848 I lived in Fredericksted, on Kongensgade, or King Street, withmy aunts, Marion, Anna, and Marcia, and my grandmother--whom theservants called Mi'ss Paula--and was just old enough to begin takingcare of my dignity. Whether I was Danish, British, or American Ihardly knew. When grandmamma, whose husband had been of a family thathad furnished a signer of our Declaration, told me stories of BunkerHill and Yorktown I glowed with American patriotism. But when sheturned to English stories, heroic or momentous, she would remind methat my father and mother were born on this island under British sway, and--"Once a Briton always a Briton. " And yet again, my playmateswould say:

"When _you_ were born the island was Danish; you are a subject of KingChristian VIII. "

Kongensgade, though narrow, was one of the main streets that ran thetown's full length from northeast to southwest, and our home was along, low cottage on the street's southern side, between it and thesea. Its grounds sloped upward from the street, widened outextensively at the rear, and then suddenly fell away in bluffs to thebeach. It had been built for "Mi'ss Paula" as a bridal gift from herhusband. But now, in her widowhood, his wealth was gone, and onlyrefinement and inspiring traditions remained. 

The sale or hire of her slaves might have kept her in comfort; but aclergyman, lately from England, convinced her that no Christian shouldhold a slave, and setting them free she accepted a life of self-helpand of no little privation. She was his only convert. His zeal cooledearly. Her ex-slaves, finding no _public_ freedom in custom or law, merely hired their labor unwisely and yearly grew more worthless. 

[The reader lifted his eyes across to Aline:

"I had a notion to name that much 'The Time, ' and this next part 'TheScene. ' What do you think?"

"Yes, I think so. 'Twould make the manner of it less antique. "

"Ah!" cried Mlle. Corinne, "'tis not a movie! Tha'z the charm, thatantie-quitie!"

"Yes, " the niece assented again, "but even with that insertion 'tis yetas old-fashioned as 'Paul and Virginia. '"

"Or 'Rasselas, '" Chester suggested, and resumed his task. ]

XXVIII

(THE SCENE)

Yet to be poor on that island did not compel a sordid narrowing oflife. You would have found our living-room furnished in mahogany richand old. In a corner where the airs came in by a great window stood ajar big enough to hide in, into which trickled a cool thread of waterfrom a huge dripping-stone, while above these a shelf held nativewaterpots whose yellow and crimson surfaces were constantly pearledwith dew oozing through the porous ware. On a low press near by waspiled the remnant of father's library, and on the ancient sideboardwere silver candlesticks, snuffers, and crystal shades. 

But it was neither these things nor cherished traditions that gave theroom its finest charm. It was filled with the glory of the sea. Therewas no need of painted pictures. Living nature hung framed in widehigh windows through which drifted in the distant boom of surf on therocks, and salt breezes perfumed with cassia. 

Outside, round about, there was far more. A broad door led by a flightof stone steps to the couchlike roots of a gigantic turpentine-treewhose deep shade harbored birds of every hue. To me, sitting there, the island's old Carib name of Aye-Aye seemed the eternal consent ofGod to some seraph asking for this ocean pearl. All that poet orprophet had ever said of heaven became comprehensible in its dailytransfigurations of light and color scintillated between wave, landscape, and cloud--its sea like unto crystal, and the trees bearingall manner of fruits. Grace and fragrance everywhere: fruits crimson, gold, and purple; fishes blue, orange, pink; shells of rose and pearl. Distant hills, clouds of sunset and dawn, sky and stream, leaf andflower, bird and butterfly, repeated the splendor, while round allpalpitated the wooing rhythm of the sea's mysterious tides. 

The beach! Along its landward edge the plumed palms stood sentinel, rustling to the lipping waters and to the curious note of theThibet-trees, sounding their long dry pods like castanets in theevening breeze. By the water's margin, and in its shoals and depths, what treasures of the underworld! Here a sponge, with stem bearingfive cups; there a sea-fan, large enough for a Titan's use yet delicateenough to be a mermaid's. Red-lipped shells; mystical eye-stones;shell petals heaped in rocky nooks like rose leaves; and, moving amongthese in grotesque leisure, crabs of a brilliance and variety to taxthe painter. All the rector told of a fallen world seemed but idlewords when the sunset glory was too much for human vision and the youngheart trembled before its ineffable suggestions. 

I often rode a pony. If we turned inland our way was on a roaddouble-lined with cocoa palms, or up some tangled dell where a silverycascade leaped through the deep verdure. On one side the tall mahoganydropped its woody pears. On another, sand-box and calabash treesrattled their huge fruit like warring savages. Here the banyan hungits ropes and yonder the tamarind waved its feathery streamers. Herewas the rubber-tree, here the breadfruit. Now and then a clump of themanchineel weighted the air with the fragrance of its poisonous apples, the banana rustled, or the bamboo tossed its graceful canes. Besidesome stream we might espy black washerwomen beetling their washing. Or, reaching the summit of Blue Mountain, we might look down, elevenhundred feet, on the vast Caribbean dotted with islands, and, nearerby, on breakers curling in noble bays or foaming under rocky cliffs. Northward, the wilderness; eastward, green fields of sugar-cane palingand darkling in the breeze; southward, the wide harbor ofFredericksted, the town, and the black, red-shirted boatmen pushingabout the harbor; westward, the setting sun; and presently, everywhere, the swift fall of the tropical night, with lights beginning to twinklein the town and the boats in the roadstead to leave long wakes ofphosphorescent light. 

Of course nature had also her bad habits. There were sharks in thesea, and venomous things ashore, and there were the earthquake and thehurricane. Every window and door had heavy shutters armed with bars, rings, and ropes that came swiftly into use whenever between July andOctober the word ran through the town, "The barometer's falling. " Thencandles and lamps were lighted indoors, and there was happy excitementfor a courageous child. I would beg hard to have a single pair ofshutters held slightly open by two persons ready to shut them in asecond, and so snatched glimpses of the tortured, flying clouds andwrithing trees, while old Si' Myra, one of the freed slaves who neverhad left us, crouched in a corner and muttered:

"Lo'd sabe us! Lo'd sabe us!"

Once I saw a handsome brig which had failed to leave the harbor soonenough stagger in upon the rocks where it seemed her masts might fallinto our own grounds, and grandmamma told me that thus my father, though born in the island, had first met my mother. 

XXIX

(THE PLAYERS)

Si' Myra was a Congo. She believed the Obi priests could boil waterwithout fire, and in many ways cause frightful woes. To her own mythsshe had added Danish ones. "De wehr-wolf, yes, me chile! Dem nightsw'en de moon shine bright and de dogs a-barkin', you see twelb dogsa-talkin' togedder in a ring, and one in de middle. Dah dem wait tilldem yerry [hear] him; den dem take arter him, me chile, " etc. 

Strangest, wildest practice of the slaves was the hideous misuseChristian masters allowed them to make of Chrismas Day and week. Itwas then they danced the bamboula, incessantly. All through the yearthis Saturnalia was prepared for in meetings held at night by theirleaders. The songs to which they danced were made of white society'sscandals reduced to satirical rhyme; and to the rashest girl or manthere was power in the warning, "You'll get yourself sung about atChristmas. " Yearly a king, queen, and retinue were elected. Thedresses of court and all were a mixture of splendor and tawdriness thatexhausted the savings and pilferings of a twelvemonth. Good-natured"missies" often helped make these outfits. They were of velvet, silk, satin, cotton lace, false flowers, the brilliant seeds of the licoriceand coquelicot, tinsel, beads, and pinch-beck. Sometimes mistresseseven lent--firmly sewed fast--their own jewelry. 

On Christmas Eve, here and there in the town, ground-floor rooms werehired and decorated with palm branches; or palm booths were built, decked with oranges and boughs of cinnamon berries, lighted withcandles and lanterns and furnished with seats for the king, queen, andmusicians, and with buckets of rum punch. Then the "bulrush man" wenthis round. Covered with capes and flounces of rushes and crowned witha high waving fringe of them, he rattled pebbles in calabashes, dancedto their clatter, proclaimed the feast, and begged such of us whitechildren as his dress did not terrify, for stivers from our holidaysavings. 

Soon the dancers began to gather in the booths; women in gorgeoustrailing gowns, the men bearing showy batons and clad in gay shirts orsatin jackets, and with a mongrel infant rabble at their heels. Whenthe goombay--a flour-barrel drum--sounded, the town knew the bamboulahad begun. On two confronting lines, the men in one, the women in theother, a leading couple improvised a song and all took up the refrain. The goombay beat time, and the dancers rattled or tinkled the woodyseed-cases of the sand-box tree set on long handles and with each oftheir lobes painted a separate vivid color; rattles of basketwork; andcalabashes filled with pebbles and shells. All instruments were gaywith floating ribbons. So the lines approached each other by twosteps, receded, advanced, and receded, always in wild cadence to thesignals of voice and instrument; then bowed so low that theytouched--twice--thrice; then pirouetted and resumed the first movement, and now and then, with two or three turns or bows, clashed theirrattles together in time. As night darkened, the rude lights flaredyellow and red upon the dusky forms bedizened with beads, bangles, andgrotesquer trumpery. Faces, necks, arms reeked and shone in the heat, ribbons streamed, gross odors arose, the goombay dominated all, andchildren of the master race--for even I was permitted to witness theseorgies--without comprehending, stood aghast. Close outside, thematchless night lay on land and sea; a relieved sense caught etherealperfumes and was soothed by the exquisite refinement into whose spaceand silence the faint deep voice of the savage drum sobbed one griefand one prayer alike for slave and master. 

The revel always ended with New Year's Day. The next morning brokesilently, and with the rising of the sun the plantation bell or theconch called the bondman and bondwoman into the cane-fields. Then, alike in broadest noon or deepest night, a spectral fear hoveredwherever the master sat among his loved ones or rode from place toplace. Not often did the hand of oppression fall upon any slave withillegal violence, or he or she turn to slaughter or poison theoppressor; but the slaves were in thousands, the masters were buthundreds, the laws were cruel; the whipping-post stood among the town'sbest houses of commerce, justice, and worship, with the thumbscrewshard by. As to armed defense, the well-drilled and finely caparisonedvolunteer "troopers" were but a handful, the Danish garrison a meresquad; the governor was mild and aged, and the two towns were the widthof the island apart. 

XXX

(THE RISING CURTAIN)

In that year, 1848, this unrest was much increased. King Christian hadlately proclaimed a gradual emancipation of all slaves in his WestIndian colonies. A squad of soldiers had marched through the streets, halting at corners and beating a drum--"beating the protocol, " as itwas termed--and reading the royal edict. After twelve years all slaveswere to go free; their owners were to be paid for them; and meantimeevery infant of a slave was to be free at birth. 

I suppose no one knows better than the practical statesman howdisastrous measures are apt to be when designed for the _gradual_righting of a public evil. They rarely satisfy any class concerned. In this case the aged slaves bemoaned a promised land they might neverlive to enter; younger ones dreaded the superior liberty of free-bornchildren; and the planters doubted they would be paid, even ifemancipation did not bring fire, rapine, and death. 

One day, along with all "West-En', " as the negroes calledFredericksted--Christiansted was "Bass-En', "--I saw two BritishEast-Indiamen sail into the harbor. Such ships never touched atFredericksted; what could the Britons want?

"Water, " they said, "and rest"; but they stayed and stayed! theirofficers roaming the island, asking many questions, answering few. What they signified at last I cannot say, except that they became ourrefuge from the black uprising that was near at hand. Likely enoughthat was their only errand. 

Sunday, the 2d of July, was still and fair. To me the Sabbath wasalways a happy day. High-stepping horses prancing up to thechurch-gates brought friends from the plantations. The organ pealed, the choir chanted, the rector read, and read well; the mural tabletstold the virtues of the churchyard sleepers, and out through thewindows I could gaze on the clouds and the hills. After church camethe Sunday-school. Its house was on a breezy height where the windswept through the room unceasingly, giving wings to the children'svoices as we sang, "Now be the gospel banner. "

But this Sunday promised unusual pleasure. I was to go with AuntMarion to dine soon after midday with a Danish family, in real DanishWest Indian fashion, and among the guests were to be some officers ofthe East-Indiamen. I carried with me one fear--that we should havepigeon-pea soup. Whoever ate pigeon-pea soup, Si' Myra said, wouldnever want to leave the island, and I longed for those ships to go. But in due time we were asked:

"Which soup will you have--guava-berry or pigeon-pea?"

Hoping to be imitated I chose the guava-berry; but without anyimmediately visible effect one officer took one and another the other. After soup came an elegant kingfish, and by and by the famous callalouand other delicate and curious viands. For dessert appeared "redgroat"; sago jelly, that is, flavored with guavas, crimsoned with thejuice of the prickly-pear and floating in milk; also other floatingislands of guava jelly beaten with eggs. Pale-green granadillascrowned the feast. These were eaten with sugar and wine, and beforeeach draft the men lifted their glasses high to right and left andcried: "Skoal! Skoal!" As the company finally rose, our host andhostess shook hands with all, these again saluting each other, each twosaying: "Vel be komme"--"May this feast do you good. "

There was strange contrast in store for us. Late in the afternoon westarted home. On the way two friends, a lady and her daughter, persuaded us to turn and take a walk on the north-side road, at thetown's western border. It drew us southward toward "the lagoon, " nearto where this water formed a kind of moat behind the fort, and wasspanned by a slight wooden bridge. While we went the sun slowly sankthrough a golden light toward the purple sea, among temples, towers, and altars of cloud. 

As we neared this bridge two black men crossing it from opposite waysstopped and spoke low:

"Yes, me yerry it; dem say sich t'ing' as nebber bin known befo' goin'be done in West-En' town to-night. "

"Well, you look sharp, me frien'----"

Seeing us, they parted abruptly, one troubled, the other pleased andbrisk. Our friends drew back: "What does he mean, mother?"

"Oh, some meeting to make Christmas songs, I suppose. "

"I think not, " said Aunt Marion. "Let's go back; my mother's alone. "

Just then Gilbert, young son of an intimate neighbor, appeared, sayingto the four of us: "I've come to find you and see you home. Thething's on us. The slaves rise to-night. Some free negroes havebetrayed them. At eight o'clock they, the slaves, are to attack thetown. "

Our home was reached first. Grandmamma heard the news calmly. "We'rein God's hands, " she said. "Gilbert, will you stop at Mr. Kenyon's"[another neighbor] "and send Anna and Marcia home?"

Mr. Kenyon came bringing them and begging that we all go and pass thenight with him. But grandmamma thought we had better stay home, and hewent away to propose to the neighborhood that all the women andchildren be put into the fort, that the men might be the freer todefend them. 

"Marion, " said grandmamma, "let us have supper and prayers. "

The meal was scarcely touched. Aunt Marcia put Bible and prayer-bookby the lamp and barred all the front shutters. When grandmamma hadread we knelt, but the prayer, was scarcely finished when Aunt Marciawas up, crying: "The signal! Hear the signal!"

Out in the still night a high mournful note on a bamboo pipe wasanswered by a conch, and presently the alarm was ringing from point topoint, from shells, pipes and horns, and now and then in the solemnclangor of plantation bells. It came first from the south, then fromthe east, swept around to the north, and answered from the westerncliffs, springing from hilltop to hilltop, long, fierce, exultant. Westood listening and, I fear, pale. But by and by grandmamma took hereasy chair. 

"I will spend the night here, " she said. 

Aunt Anna took a rocking-chair beside her. Aunt Marcia chose the sofa. Aunt Marion spread a pallet for me, lay down at my side, and bade menot fear but sleep. And I slept. 

XXXI

(REVOLT AND RIOT)

Suddenly I was broad awake. Distant but approaching, I heard horses'feet. They came from the direction of the fort. Aunt Marcia wasunbarring the shutters and fastening the inner jalousies so as to lookout unseen. 

"It's nearly one o'clock, " some one said, and I got up, wondering howthe world looked at such an hour. All hearkened to the nearing sound. 

"Ah!" Aunt Marcia gladly cried, "the troopers!"

There were only some fifty of them. Slowly, in a fitful moonlight, they dimly came, hoofs ringing on the narrow macadam, swords clanking, and dark plumes nodding over set faces, while the distant war-signalfrom shell, reed, and horn called before, around, and after them. 

Still later came a knock at the door, and Mr. Kenyon was warilyreadmitted. He explained the passing of the troopers. They hadhurried about the country for hours, assembling their families atpoints easy to defend and then had come to the fort for ammunition andorders; but the captain of the fort, refusing to admit them without thegovernor's order, urged them to go to their homes. 

"But, " Mr. Kenyon had interposed, "a courier can reach the governor inan hour and a half. "

"One will be sent as soon as it is light, " was the best answer thatcould be got. 

Our friend, much excited, went on to tell us that the town militia werewithout ammunition also. He believed the fort's officers wereconniving with the revolt. Presently he left us, saying he had met oneof our freed servants, Jack, who would come soon to protect us. Shortly after daybreak Jack did appear and mounted guard at the frontgate. "Go sleep, ole mis's. Miss Mary Ann" [Marion], "you-all gosleep. Chaw! wha' foo all you set up all night? Si' Myra, you go drawwatah foo bile coffee. "

The dreadful signals had ceased at last, and all lay down to rest; butI remained awake and saw through the great seaward windows thewonderful dawn of the tropics flush over sky and ocean. But presentlyits heavenly silence was broken by the gallop of a single horse, and aDanish orderly, heavily armed, passed the street-side windows, off atlast for Christiansted. 

Soon the conchs and horns began again. With them was blent now thetramp of many feet and the harsh voices of swarming insurgents. Theirlong silence was explained; they had been sharpening their weapons. 

Their first act of violence was to break open a sugar storehouse. Theymixed a barrel of sugar with one of rum, killed a hog, poured in hisblood, added gunpowder, and drank the compound--to make them brave. Then with barrels of rum and sugar they changed a whole cistern ofwater into punch, stirring it with their sharpened hoes, dipping it outwith huge sugar-boiler ladles, and drinking themselves half blind. 

Jack dashed in from the gate: "Oh, Miss Marcia, go look! dem a-comin'!Gin'ral Buddoe at dem head on he w'ite hoss. "

We ran to the jalousies. In the street, coming southward toward thefort, were full two thousand blacks. They walked and ran, the womenwith their skirts tied up in fighting trim, and all armed withhatchets, hoes, cutlasses, and sugar-cane bills. The bills were fittedon stout pole handles, and all their weapons had been ground andpolished until they glittered horridly in their black hands and abovethe gaudy Madras turbans or bare woolly heads and bloodshot eyes. 

"Dem goin' to de fote to ax foo freedom, " Jack cried. 

At their head rode "Gin'ral Buddoe, " large, powerful, black, in acocked hat with a long white plume. A rusty sword rattled at hishorse's flank. As he came opposite my window I saw a white man, alone, step out from the house across the way and silently lift his arms tothe multitude to halt. 

They halted. It was the Roman Catholic priest. For a moment they gaveattention, then howled, brandished their weapons, and pressed on. AuntMarcia dropped to her knees and in tears began to pray aloud; but wecried to her that Rachel, a slave woman, was coming, who must not seeour alarm. Indeed, both Rachel and Tom had already entered. 

"La! Miss Mary Ann, wha' fur you cryin'? Who's goin' tech you?"Rachel held by its four corners a Madras kerchief full of sugar. "Dawhat we done come fur, to tell Miss Paula" [grandmamma] "not befrightened. "

Tom was off again while grandmamma said: "Rachel, you've been stealing. "

"Well, Miss Paula! ain't I gwine hab my sheah w'en dem knock de head'out dem hogsitt' an' tramp de sugah under dah feet an' mix a wholecisron o' punch?"

Rachel told the events of the night. But as she talked a roar withoutrose higher and higher, and I, running with Jack to the gate, beheldtwo smaller mobs coming round a near corner. The foremost was draggingalong the ground by ropes a huge object, howling, striking, and hackingat it. The other was doing the same to something smaller tied to astick of wood, and the air was full of their cries:

"To de sea! Frow it in de sea! You'll nebber hole obbe" [us] "no mo'!You'll be drownded in de sea-watah!" Their victims were thewhipping-post and the thumbscrews. 

Tom returned to say: "Dem done to'e up de cote-house and de Jedge'shouse, an' now dem goin' Bay Street too tear up de sto'es. "

Gilbert came up from the fort telling what he had seen. The blacks hadtried to scale the ramparts, on one another's shoulders, howling forfreedom and defying the garrison to fire. But the commander had notdared without orders from the governor, and his courier had notreturned. A leading merchant standing on the fort wall was lessdiscreet: "Take the responsibility! Fire! Every white man on theisland will sustain you, and you'll end the whole thing here!"

Upon that word off again up-town had gone the whole black swarm, hadsacked the bold merchant's store, and seemed now, by the noises theymade, to be sacking others. "I come, " Gilbert said, "with an offer ofthe ship-captains to take the white people aboard the ships. "

As he turned away groups of negroes began to dash by laden with allsorts of "prog" [booty] from the wrecked stores. Grandmamma had laindown, my aunts were trying to make up some sort of midday meal, and Iwas standing alone behind the jalousies, when a ferocious-looking negrorattled them with his bill. 

"Lidde gal, gi' me some watah. "

"Wait a minute, " I said, and left the room. If I hid he might burst inand murder us. So I brought a bowl of water. 

"Tankee, lidde missee, " he said, returned the bowl, and went away. Tomwas thereupon set to guard the gate, which he did poorly. Anothernegro slipped in and sat down on our steps. He looked around thepretty enclosure, gave a tired grunt, and said:

"Please, missee, lemme res'; I done bruk up. " He held in his hands theworks of a clock, fell to studying them, and became wholly absorbed. 

Rachel asked him who had broken it. He replied:

"Obbe" [our] "Ca'lina. She no like de way it talkin'. She say: 'W'atmek you say, night und day, night und day?' Un' she tuk her bill un'bruk it up. Un' Georgina chop' up de pianneh, 'caze it wouldn' talkfoo her like it talk too buckra. Da shame!"

But now came yells and cheers in the street, the rush and trample ofhundreds, and the cry:

"De gub'nor! de gub'nor a-comin'!"

XXXII

(FREEDOM AND CONFLAGRATION)

We ran to the windows. In an open carriage, with two officialattendants, surrounded by a mounted guard and clad in the uniform of aDanish general, the aged governor came. On his breast were theinsignia of the order of Dannebrog. His cavalcade could hardly makeits way, and when one of the crowd made bold to seize the horses' reinsthe equipage, just before our house, stopped. The governor sat still, very pale. 

Suddenly he rose, uncovered, and with graceful dignity bowed. Then heunfolded a paper with large seals attached, and in a trembling butclear voice began to read. In the name and by the authority of hisMajesty Christian VIII, King of Denmark, he proclaimed freedom to everyslave in the Danish West Indies. 

Our cries of dismay were drowned in the huzzas of the black mob: "Free!Free! God bless de gub'nor! Obbe is free!"

The retinue moved again; but the crowd, ignoring the command todisperse to their homes, surged after it in transports of rejoicing. At the fort the proclamation, with the order to disperse, was readagain. But the mob, suddenly granted all its demands, could notinstantly return to quiet toils made odious by slavery. Mad with joyand drink, it broke into small companies, some content to stay in towncarousing, others roaming out among the island estates to pillage andburn. Here the governor, in failing to employ prompt measures ofpolice, proved himself weak. 

At evening, leaving our house in care of Jack and Tom, we went to spendthe night at Mr. Kenyon's, where several neighbors were gathered, underarms. Our way led us by the ruined court-house, where for severalsquares the ground was completely covered with torn records, books, andother documents. 

The night wore by in fitful sleep or anxious vigils. Near us all wasquiet; but the distant sky was in many places red with incendiaryfires. At dawn Mr. Kenyon, Gilbert, and others ventured out, andreturned with sad tidings brought by courier from Christiansted. Atthe signal on Sunday night the negroes had swarmed there by thousands. Next day, when the governor had just departed for our town, leavingword to do nothing in his absence, they had attacked the fort as theyhad ours. But its commander, of a sturdy temper, had opened fire, killing and wounding many. This had only defended the town at theexpense of the country, into which thousands scattered to break, pillage, and burn. Yet even so no whites had been killed except two orthree men who had opposed the blacks single-handed, although the wholeisland, outside the two towns, was at the mercy of the insurgents. 

However, there was better news. A Danish man-of-war was near by. Aschooner was gone to look her up, and another to ask aid in the islandof Porto Rico, only seventy miles away and heavily garrisoned withSpaniards. Still it was deemed wise to accept for Fredericksted theoffer from the ships and send the women and children on board, so thatthe military might be free to hold the uprising in check until astronger force could extinguish it. 

"Tom, " Mr. Kenyon said, "is to have a boat at the beach to take us offto an American schooner. Pack no trunks. Gather your lightestvaluables in small bundles. Be quick; if a crowd gets there before youyou may be refused. "

We hurried home over a carpet of archives and title-deeds, swallowed asort of breakfast, and began the hard task of choosing the little wecould take from the much we must leave, in a dear home that might soonbe in ashes. 

On the schooner we found a kind welcome, amid a throng of friends andstrangers, and a chaos of boxes, bundles, and _trunks_. Children werecrying to go home, or viewing with babbling delight the wide roadsteaddotted with boats still bringing the fugitives to every anchoredvessel. Women were calling farewells and cautions to the men in thereturning boats, and meeting friends were telling in many tongues thedroll or sad distresses of the hour. 

A friend, with his wife and little daughter, gave us a thrilling story. Except their house-keeper, a young English girl, they three were theonly white persons on their beautiful "North End" estate when on Sundaynight their slaves came to them in force demanding "freedom papers. "

"Not under compulsion, never!"

"Den obbe set eb'ryt'ing on fiah! Wen yo' house bu'n up we try t'inkw'at too do wid you and de missie!" They rushed away to thesugar-works, yelling: "Git bagasse foo bu'n him out!"

The household loaded all the firearms in the house, filled all vesselswith water, and piled blankets here and there to fight fire. Then theymade merry. The wife played her piano till after midnight. Whethermoved by this show or not, the blacks failed to return, and next daythe family escaped to the schooner. 

To grandmamma and the wife of the American consul, the oldest ladies onthe vessel, was given, at nightfall, the only sofa on board. The restdropped asleep on boxes and bundles anywhere. For my couch theboatswain lent me his locker, and for a pillow a bag of something thatfelt like rope ends, and for three successive mornings I was wakenedwith:

"Sorry to disturb you, little miss, but I must get to my locker. "

XXXIII

(AUTHORITY, ORDER, PEACE)

Three days of heat, glare, hubbub, and anxious suspense dragged away, and Thursday's gorgeous sunset brought a change. The Danish frigate, bright with flags and swarming with sailors, swept in, dropped anchor, and wrapped herself in thunder and white smoke. Soon she lowered aboat, a glittering officer took its tiller-ropes, its long oarsflashed, and it bore away to the fort. But evening fell, a starrysilence reigned, and when a late moon rose we slept. 

Next morning we knew that Captain Erminger, of the frigate, had assumedcommand over the whole island, declared martial law, landed hismarines, and begun operations. Soon the harbor was populous again, with refugees returning home. Tom came with his boat. Just as westarted landward a schooner came round the bluffs bringing theSpaniards. At early twilight these landed and marched with muchclatter through the vacant streets to the town's various points ofentrance, there to mount guard, the Danes having gone to scatter theinsurgents. 

The pursuing forces, in two bodies, were to move toward each other fromopposite ends of the island, spanning it from sea to sea and meeting inthe centre, thus entirely breaking up the bands of aimless pillagersinto which the insurrection had already dispersed. This took but a fewdays. Buddoe was almost at once trapped by the baldest flatteries oftwo leading Danish residents and, finding himself without even thehonor of armed capture, betrayed his confederates and disappeared. 

Only one small band of blacks made any marked resistance. Under acertain "Moses" they occupied a hill, hurling down stones upon theirassailants, but were soon captured. Many leaders of the revolt werecondemned and shot, displaying in most cases a total absence offortitude. 

In less than a week from the day of flight to the ships quiet wasrestored, and a meeting of planters was adopting rules and rates forthe employment of the freed slaves. Some estates resumed work at once;on others the ravages of the torch had first to be repaired. Somenegroes would not work, and it was months before all the windmills onthe hills were once more whirling. The Spaniards lingered long, butwere finally relieved by a Danish regiment. Captain Erminger wascommended by his home government. The governor was censured andsuperseded. The planters got no pay for their slaves. 

The government may have argued that the ex-master should no more bepaid for his slave than the ex-slave recover back pay for his labor;and that, after all, a general emancipation was only a moderate raisingof wages unjustly low and uniform. Both kings and congresses will attimes do the easy thing instead of the fair one and let two wrongsoffset each other. Make haste, rising generations! and, as you trulyhonor your fathers, bring to their graves the garlandry of juster lawsand kinder, purer days. 

To different minds this true story will speak, no doubt, a varyingcounsel. Some will believe that the lovely island was saved from theagonies of a Haytian revolution only through iron suppression. Toothers it will appear that the old governor's rashly timorous edictwas, after all, the true source of deliverance. Certainly the questionremains, whether even the most sudden and ill-timed concession ofrights, if only backed by energetic police action, is not a prompter, surer cure for public disorder than whole batteries of artillerywithout the concession of rights. I believe the most blundering effortfor the prompt undoing of a grievous wrong is safer than the shrewdestor strongest effort for its continuance. Meanwhile, with what patiencedoth God wait for man to learn his lessons! The Holy Cross stillglitters on the bosom of its crystal sea, as it shone before the Caribdanced on its snowy sands, and as it will still shine when some newColumbus, as yet unborn, brings to it the Christianity of a purer daythan ours. 

Chester shook the pages together on his knee. 

"Oh-h-h!" cried Mlle. Corinne to Yvonne, to Aline, to Mlle. Castanado, "the en'! and--where is all that abbout that beautiful cat what wasthe proprity of Dora? Everything abbout that cat of Dora--_scratchout_! Ah, Mr. Chezter! Yvonne and me, we find that the moze am-usingpart--that episode of the cat--that large, wonderful, mazculine cat ofDora! Ah, madame" [to the chair], "hardly Marie Madeleine is morewonderful than that--when Jack pritend to lift his li'l' miztressthrough the surf of the sea, how he _flew_ at the throat of Jack, thataztonishing mazculine cat! Ah, M'sieu' Beloiseau!--and to scradgethat!"

But Beloiseau was judicially calm. "Yes, I rim-ember that portion. Scientific-ally I foun' that very interezting; but, like Mr. Chezter, Ithing tha'z better _art_ that the tom-cat be elimin-ate. "

"Well, " said the chair, "w'at we want to settle--shall we accep' thatriv-ision of Mr. Chezter, to combine it in the book--'Clock in theSky, ' 'Angel of the Lord, ' 'Holy Crozz'--seem' to me that combinationgoin' to sell like hot cake'. "

"Yes! Agcept!" came promptly from two or three. 

"Any oppose'? There is not any oppose'--Seraphine--Marcel--you'll beso good to pazz those rif-reshment?"

XXXIV

"Tis gone--to the pewblisher?"

M. De l'Isle, about to enter his double gate, had paused. In his home, overhead, a clock was striking five of the tenth day after that secondreading in the Castanados' parlor. The energetic inquiry was his. 

A single step away, in the door of the iron-worker's shop, Beloiseau, too quick for Chester, at whose elbow he stood, replied: "Tis gonebetter! Tis gone to the editor--of the greatez' magazine of the worl'!"

"Bravo! Sinze how long?"

"A week, " Chester said. 

"Hah! and his _rip_-ly?"

"Hasn't come yet. "

"Ah, look out, now! Look out he don' steal that! You di'n' write him:'Wire answer'? You muz' do that! I'll pay it myseff!"

"I thought I'd wait one more day. He may have other manuscripts toconsider. "

"Mr. Chezter, that manuscrip' is not in a prize contess; 'tis only withitseff! You di'n' say that?"

"I--implied it--as gracefully as I could. "

"Ah! graze'--the h-only way to write those fellow, tha'z with the bigstick! 'Wire h-answer!'"

Beloiseau lifted a finger: "I don' think thad way. Firz' place, bigstick or no, that hiztorie is sure to be accept'. "

M. De l'Isle let out a roar that seemed to tear the lining from histhroat: "Aw-w-w! tha'z not to compel the agceptanze; tha'z to scarethem from stealing it! And to privend that, there's another thing youwant to infer them: that you billong to the Louisiana Branch of theAuthors' Protegtive H-union! Ah, doubtlezz you don't--billong; but allthe same you can infer them!"

Beloiseau's response crowded Chester's out: "Well, they are maybeimportant, those stratagem'; but to me the chieve danger is if maybe_that_ editor shou'n' have the sagacitie--artiztic--commercial--toperceive the brilliancy of thad story. "

"Never mine! in any'ow two days we'll know. Scipion! The day avterthose two, tha'z a pewblic holiday--everything shut!"

"Yes, well?"

"If that news come, 'accepted, ' all of us we'll be so please' thatwe'll be compel to egsprezz that in a joy-ride! and even if 'rifused, 'we'll need that joy-ride to swallow the indignation. "

"Ah! but with whose mash-in', so it won't put uz in bankrup'cy?"

"With two mash-in'--the two of Thorndyke-Smith! He's offer' to borrowme those whiles he's going to be accrozz the lake. You'll drive thelarge, me the small. "

"Hah! Tha'z a gran' scheme. At the en', dinner at Antoine', all themen chipping in! Castanado--Dubroca--me--Mr. Chezter, eh?"

"With the greatest pleasure if I'm included. "

"Include'--hoh! By the laws of nature!" M. De l'Isle went on up-stairs. 

"We had a dinner like that, " Beloiseau said, "only withoud the joy-rideand withoud those three Mlles. Chapdelaine, juz' a few week' biffo' wemake' yo' acquaintanze. That was to celebrade that great victory inFrance and same time the news of savety of our four boys ad the front. "

Chester stood astounded. "What four boys?"

"You di'n' know abboud those? Ah, well, tha'z maybe biccause we don'speak of them biffo' those ladies Chapdelaine. An' still tha'z drollyou di'n' know that, but tha'z maybe biccause each one he's thinkanother he's tol' you, and biccause tha'z not a prettie cheerfulsubjec', eh? Yes, they are two son' of Dubroca and Castanado, soldier', and two of De l'Isle and me, aviateur'. "

"And up to a few weeks ago they were all well?"

"Ah, not well--one wounded, one h'arm broke, one trench-fivver, but allsafe, laz' account. "

"Tell me more about them, Beloiseau. You know I don't easily askpersonal questions. Tell me all I'm welcome to know, will you?"

"I want to do that--to tell you all; but"--M. Ducatel, next neighborabove, was approaching--"better another time--ah, Rene, tha'z a prettywarm evening, eh?"

XXXV

For two days more the vast machinery of the United States mail swungback and forth across the continent and the oceans beyond, and inunnumbered cities and towns the letter-carriers came and went; butnothing they brought into Bienville or Royal Street bore tidings fromthat execrable editor in New York who in salaried ease sat "holding up"the manuscript once the impressionable Dora's, now the gentle Aline's. The holiday--"everything shut up"--had arrived. No carrier was abroad. Neither reason given for the joy-ride held good. Yet the project waswell on foot. The smaller car was at the De l'Isles' lovely gates, with monsieur in the chauffeur's seat, Mme. Alexandre at his side, andDubroca close behind her. The larger machine stood at the oppositecurb, with Beloiseau for driver, and Mme. Dubroca--a very small, trim, well-coiffed woman with a dainty lorgnette--in the first seat behindhim. Castanado waited in the street door at the foot of his stair, down which Mme. Castanado was coming the only way she could come. 

Her crossing of the sidewalk and her elevation first to therunning-board and then to a seat beside Mme. Dubroca took time and thestrength of both men, yet was achieved with a dignity hardlyappreciated by the street children, who covered their mouths, avertedtheir faces, and cheered as the two cars, the smaller leading, movedoff and turned from Royal Street into Conti on their way to pick up thethree Chapdelaines. 

For nearly two hundred years--ever since the city had had apost-office--the post-office had been not too superior to remain in the_vieux carré_. Now, like so many old Creole homes themselves, it was"away up" in the American quarter--or "nine-tenth'"--at LafayetteSquare. On holidays any one anxious enough for his mail to go "away upyondah" between nine and ten A. M. , could have it for the asking. Andsuch a one was Chester. 

He had his reward. Twice and again he read the magazine's name on theenvelope as he bore it to the Camp Street front of the building, butwould not open the missive. That should be _her_ privilege and honor. He lifted his eyes from it and behold, here came the two cars! Butwhere was she? Certainly not in the front one. There he made out, inpairs, M. De l'Isle and Mme. Alexandre. Mlle. Yvonne and M. Dubroca, M. Castanado, and Mme. De l'Isle. Then in the rear car his alarmed eyepicked out Beloiseau and Mlle. Corinne, with Cupid between them; Mmes. Dubroca and Castanado, especially the latter; and then, oh, then!Behind the smaller woman a vacant seat and behind the vaster one AlineChapdelaine. 

"You've heard?" cried M. De Elsie, slowing to the curb. Chesterfluttered his prize. "Click, clap!"--he was in without the stopping ofa wheel and had passed the letter to Aline. 

"Accepted?" asked several, while both cars resumed their speed up-town. 

"We'll open it in Audubon Park, " she said to Chester, and Mme. Castanado and Dubroca passed the word forward to Beloiseau and Mlle. Corinne. These soon got it to Castanado and Mme. De l'Isle. 

"Not to be open' till Audubon Park, " sped the word still forward tillMlle. Yvonne and Dubroca had passed it to Mme. Alexandre and M. Del'Isle. 

"Ahah!" he said, as he turned Lee Circle and went spinning up St. Charles Avenue. "Not in the pewblic street, but in Audubon Park, andto the singing of bird'!"

XXXVI

Out near the riverside end of the park the two cars stopped abreastunder a vast live-oak, and Aline, rising, opened the letter and readaloud:

MY DEAR MR. CHESTER:

Your manuscript, "The Holy Cross, " accompanied by your letter ofthe -- inst. , is received and will have our early attention. 

Very respectfully, THE EDITOR. 

All other outcries ceased half-uttered when the Chapdelaine sistersclapped hands for joy, crying:

"Agcepted! Agcepted! Ah, Aline! by that kindnezz and sag-acitie ofMr. Chezter--and all the rez' of our Royal Street frien'--you arebiccome the diz-ting-uish' and _lucrative_ authorezz, Mlle. Chapdelaine!"

M. De l'Isle's wrath was too hot for his tongue, but Scipion stoodwaiting to speak, and Mme. Castanado beckoned attention and spoke hisname. 

"_Messieurs et mesdames_" he said, "that manuscrip' is no mo' agcept'than rij-ect'. That stadement, tha'z only to rilease those insuranzecompanie' and----"

"And to stop us from telegraphing!" M. De l'Isle broke in, "and tomake us, ad the end, glad to get even a small price! Ah, mesdemoiselles, you don't know those razcal' like me!"

"Oh!" cried the tender Yvonne--original rescuer of Marie Madeleine fromboy lynchers--"you don't have charitie! That way you make _yo'seff_un'appie. "

"Me, I cann' think, " her sister persevered, "that tha'z juz' for theinsuranse. The manuscrip' is receive'? Well! 'ow can you receivesomething if you don't agcept it? And 'ow can you agcep' that if youdon' receive it? Ah-h-h!"

"No, " Beloiseau rejoined, "tha'z only to signify that the editorialdecision--tha'z not decide'. "

Mlle. Corinne lifted both hands to the entire jury: "Oh, frien', Iassure you, that manuscrip' is agcept'. And tha'z the proof; that bothYvonne and me we've had a presentiment of that already sinze thebiggening! Ah-h-h!"

Castanado intervened: "Mademoiselle, that lady yonder"--he gave hiswife a courtier's bow--"will tell you a differenze. Once on a time shereceive' a h-offer of marriage; but 'twas not till after many days thadshe agcept' it. " [Applause. ] "But ad the en', I su'pose tha'z for Mr. Chezter, our legal counsel, to conclude. "

Mr. Chester "thought that although receipt did not imply acceptance thetardiness of this letter did argue a probability that the manuscripthad successfully passed some sort of preliminary reading--orreadings--and now awaited only the verdict of the editor-in-chief. "

"Or, " ventured Mme. Alexandre, "of that editorial board all together. "

M. De l'Isle shook his head and then a stiff finger: "I tell you! Theyare sicretly inquiring Thorndyke-Smith--lit'ry magnet--to fine out ifwe are truz'-worthy! And tha'z the miztake we did---not sen'ing thephotograph of Mlle. Aline ad the biggening. But tha'z not yet toolate; we can wire them from firz' drug-store, 'Suspen' judgment!Portrait of authorezz coming!'"

All eyes, even Cupid's, turned to her. She was shaking her head. "No, " she responded, with a smile as lovely, to Chester's fancy, as itwas final; as final, to the two aunts' conviction, as it was lovely. 

"No photograph would be convincing, " Chester began to plead, butstopped for the aunts. 

"Oh, impossible!" they cried. "That wou'n' be de-corouz!"

"Ladies an' gentlemen, " said M. Castanado, "we are on a joy-ride. "

"An' we 'ave reason!" his wife exclaimed. 

"Biccause hope!" Mme. Alexandre put in. 

"Yes!" said Dubroca. "That manuscrip' is not allone receive'; sinzemore than a week 'tis _rittain'_, whiles they dillib-rate; and thechateau what dillib-rate'--you know, eh? M'sieu' De l'Isle, I move youwe go h-on. "

They went, the De l'Isle car and then Scipion's, back to St. CharlesAvenue, and turned again up-town. On the rearmost seat----

"Why so silent?" Aline inquired of Chester. 

"Because so content, " he said, "except when I think of the book. "

"The half-book?"

"Exactly. We've only half enough stories yet. 

"Though with the _vieux carré_ full of them?"

"Oh! mostly so raw, so bald, so thin!"

"Ah, I knew you would see that. As though human life and characterwere--what would say?"

"I'd say crustacean; their anatomy all on the surface. Such storiesare not life, life in the round; they're only paper silhouettes--of thereal life's poorest facts and moments. I state the thought poorly butyou get it, don't you?"

The girl sparkled, not so much for the thought as for their fellowshipin it. "Once I heard mamma say to my aunts: 'So many of these _vieuxcarré_ stories are but pretty pebbles--a quadroon and a duel, aquadroon and a duel--always the same two peas in the baby's rattle. '"

"There are better stories for a little deeper search, " Chester said. 

"Ah, she said that too! 'And not, ' she said, 'because the _vieuxcarré_ is unlike, but so like the rest of the world. '"

Thus they spoke, happily--even a bit recklessly--conscious that theywere themselves a beautiful story without the flash of a sword or thecloud of a misdeed in range of their sight, and not because the _vieuxcarré_ was unlike, but so like the rest of the world. 

"Where are we going?" Aline inquired, and tried to look forward aroundMme. Castanado. 

"You and I, " Chester said, "are going back to your father's story. Yousaid, the other day, his life was quiet, richer within than without. "

"Yes. Ah, yes; so that while of the inside I cannot tell half, of theoutside there is almost nothing to tell. "

"All the same, tell it. Were not he and these Royal Street men boystogether?"

"Yes, though with M. De l'Isle the oldest, and though papa was awayfrom them many years, over there in France. Yes, they were all hisfriends, as their fathers had been of _grandpère_. And they'll alltell you the same thing; that he was their hero, while at the same timethat his story is destitute of the theatrical. Just he himself, he andmamma--they are the whole story. "

"A sea without a wave?"

"Ah, no; yet without a storm. And, Mr. Chester, I think a sea withouta storm can be just as deep as with, h'm?"

XXXVII

"Well, they married, your father and mother, over there where herpeople are fighting the Germans right now, and came and lived inBourbon Street with your aunts, eh?"

"Yes, or rather my aunts with them, they were of so much more strongnatures than my aunts--more strong and large while just as sweet, andthat's saying much, you know. "

"I see it is. "

"Mr. Chester, what you see, I think, is that my aunts are perhaps thetwo most--well--unworldly women you ever knew. "

"True. In that quality they're childlike. "

"Yes, and because they are so childlike in--above all--the freedom oftheir speech, what I want to say of them, just this one time, is themore to their honor: that in my _whole_ life I've never heard themspeak one word against anybody. "

"Not even Cupid?"

"Ah-h-h! that's a cruel joke, and false! That true Cupid, he's anassassin; while that child, he's faultless?"

The speaker really said "fauklezz, " and it was a joy to Chester to hearher at last fall unwittingly into a Creole accent. "Well, anyhow, " heled on, "the four lived together; and if I guess right your motherbecame, to all this joy-ride company, as much their heroine as yourfather was their hero. "

"'Tis true!"

"But your father's coming back from France--it couldn't save thebusiness?"

"Alas, no! Even together, he and mamma--and you know what a strongbusinezz partner a French wife can be--they could not save it. Both ofthem were, I think, more artist than merchant, and when all that kindof businezz began to be divorce' from art and married tomachinery"--the narrator made a sad gesture. 

"_Kultur_ against culture, was it? and your father not the sort tochange masters. "

"True again. But tha'z not all; hardly was it half. One thing besidewas the miz-conduct of an agent, the man who lately"--a silent smile. 

"What?--sold your aunts that manuscript?"

"Yes. But he didn' count the most. Oh, the whole businezz, exceptpapa's, became, as we say--give me the word!"

"Americanized?"

"No, papa he always refused to call it that. Mr. Chester, he used tosay that those two marvellouz blessings, machinery, democracy, they arein one thing too much alike; they are, at first--say it, you. "

"Vulgarizing?"

"Yes. I suppose that has to be--at the first, h'm? And with thebuying world every day more and more in love with machine work--andseeming itself to become machine work, while at the same timeAmericanized, papa was like a river town"--another gesture--"left bythe river!"

"Yet he never went into bankruptcy? You can point with pride to that, mademoiselle. "

"Ah, Mr. Chester, pride! Once I pointed, and papa--'My daughter, thereare many ways to go bankrupt worse than in money, and to have gonebankrupt in none of them--' there he stopped; he was too noble forpride. No, the businezz, juz' year after year it starved to death. Inthe early days _grandpére_ had two big stores, back to back;whole-sale, Chartres Street; retail, Royal, where now all that is leftof it is the shop of Mme. Alexandre. Both her husband and she werewith papa in the retail store, until it diminish' that he couldn' keepthem, and--in the time of President Roosevelt--some New York men theybought him out. Because a new head of the custom-house, old Creolefriend of papa, without solicitation except maybe of M. Beloiseau andthose, appointed him superintendent of customs warehouses, you know?where they keep all kind of imported goods, so they needn't pay thetariff till they take them out to sell them in the store? h'm?"

"Yes. And he kept that place--how long?"

"Always, till he passed, he and mamma; mamma first, he two years avter. Ad the last he said to me--we chanced to be talking in Englizh--'I'velived the quiet life. If I must go I can go quietly. '

"'And still, ' I said, 'if your life had been as stormy as _grandpére's_you'd have been always for the right, and ad the last content, I think. '

"'Yes, ' he said, 'I believe I never ran away from a storm, while ad thesame time I never ran avter one. ' And then he said something I wrotedown the same night in the fear I might sometime partly forget it. "

"Have you it with you, now, here?" She showed a bit of paper, holdingit low for him to read as she retained it:

On the side of the right all the storms of life--all the storms of theworld--are for the perfection of the quiet life--the active-quietlife--to build it stronger, wider, finer, higher, than is possible forthe stormy life to be. Whether for each man or for the nations, thestormy life is but the means; the active-quiet life, without decay ofcharacter in man or nation but with growth forever--that is the end. 

The pair exchanged a look. "Thank you, " murmured Chester, andpresently added: "So you were left with your two aunts. Then what?"

"I'll tell you. But"---the Creole accent faded out--"we must notdisappoint the De l'Isles, nor those others, we must----"

"I see; we must notice where we're going and give and take our share ofthe joy. "

"We mustn't be as if reading the morning paper, h'm? I think 'tis foryou they've come this way instead of going on those smooth shell-roadsbetween the city and the lake. "

The two cars had come up through old "Carrollton, " where theMississippi, sweeping down from Nine-Mile Point, had been gnawinginland for something like a century, in spite of all man's engineeringcould pile against it, and now were out on the levee road and halfround the bend above. 

To press her policy, "See!" exclaimed Aline, as a light swell of theground brought to view a dazzling sweep of the river, close beyond thelevee's crown and almost on a level with the eye. They were in aregion of wide, highly kept sugar-plantations. Whatever charms belongto the rural life of the Louisiana Delta were at their amplest on everyside. Groves of live-oak, pecan, magnolia, and orange about largemotherly dwellings of the Creole colonial type moved Aline to turn theconversation upon country life in Chester's State, and constrain him totell of his own past and kindred. So time and the river's greatwindings slipped by with the De l'Isles undisappointed, and early inthe afternoon the company lunched in the two cars, under a homesteadgrove. Its master and mistress, old friends of all but Chester, camerunning, followed by maids with gifts of milk and honey. They climbedin among the company; shared, lightly, their bread and wine; heard withmomentary interest the latest news of the great war; spoke English andFrench in alternating clauses; inquired after the coterie's four youngheroes at the French front, but only by stealth and out of Aline'shearing; and cried to Cupid, "'Ello, 'Ector! _comment ça va-t-il_?And 'ow she is, yonder at 'ome, that Marie Madeleine?"

Cupid smiled to his ears, but it was the absentee's two mistresses whoanswered for her, volubly, tenderly: "We was going to bring her, butjuz' at the lazt she discide' she di'n' want to come. You know, tha'zbeautiful, sometime', her capriciouznezz!"

Indoors, outdoors, the visitors spent an hour seeing the place andhearing its history all the way back to early colonial days. Then, inthe two cars once more, with seats much changed about, yet with Alineand Chester still paired, though at the rear of the forward car, theyglided cityward. At Carrollton they turned toward the New Canal, andat West End took the lake shore eastward--but what matter their way?Joy was with ten of them, and bliss with two--three, countingCupid--and it was only by dutiful effort that the blissful ones keptthemselves aware of the world about them while Aline's story ran gentlyon. It had run for some time when a query from Chester evoked thereply:

"No, 'twas easier to bear, I think, because I had _not_ more time andless work. "

"What was your work, mademoiselle? what is it now? Incidentally youkeep books, but mainly you do--what?"

"Mainly--I'll tell you. Papa, you know, he was, like _grandpère_, atrue connoisseur of all those things that belong to the arts ofbeautiful living. Like _grandpère_ he had that perception by threeways--occupation, education, talent. And he had it so abboundinglybecause he had also _the art_--of that beautiful life, h'm?"

"The art beyond the arts, " suggested the listener; "their underlyingphilosophy. "

The narrator glowed. Then, grave again, she said: "Mr. Chezter, I'lltell you something. To you 'twill seem very small, but to me 'tislarge. It muz' have been because of both together, those arts and thatart, that, although papa he was always of a strong enthusiasm andstrong indignation, yet never in my life did I hear him--egcept inplay--speak an exaggeration. 'Sieur Beloiseau he will tell youthat--while ad the same time papa he never rebuke' that in anybodyelse--egcept, of course--his daughter. "

"But I ask about you, your work. "

"Ah! and I'm telling you. Mamma she had the same connoisseur talent aspapa, and even amongs' that people where she was raise', and under theshadow, as you would say, of that convent so famouz for all thoseweavings, laces, tapestries, embro'deries, she was thought to bewonderful with the needle. "

Chester interrupted elatedly: "I see what you're coming to. You, yourself, were born needle in hand--the embroidery-needle. "

"Well, ad the least I can't rimember when I learned it. 'Twas alwaysas if I couldn' live without it. But it was not the needle alone, norembro'deries alone, nor alone the critical eye. Papa he had, pardlyfrom _grand-père_, pardly brought from France, a separate librarieabbout all those arts, and I think before I was five years I knew everypicture in those books, and before ten every page. And always papa andmamma they were teaching me from those books--they couldn' he'p it! Iwas very naughty aboud that. I would bring them the books and if theydidn' teach me I would weep. I think I wasn' ever so naughty aboudanything else. But in the en', with the businezz always diclining, that turn' out fortunate. By and by mamma she persuade' papa to lether take a part in the pursuanze of the businezz. But she did that allout of sight of the public----"

"Had you never a brother or sister?"

"Yes, long ago. We'll not speak of that. A sizter, two brothers;but--scarlet-fever----"

The story did not pause, yet while it pressed on, its hearers musinglingered behind. Why were the long lost ones not to be spoken of? Forfear of betraying some blame of the childlike aunts for thescarlet-fever? The unworthy thought was put aside and the hearer'sattention readjusted. 

"Even mamma, " the girl was saying, "she didn' escape that contagion, and by reason of that she was compelled to let papa put me in her placein the businezz; and after getting well she never was the same and Irittained the place till a year avter, when she pas' away, and I haveit yet. "

"And who filled M. Alexandre's place?"

"Oh, that? Tis fil' partly by Mme. Alexandre and partly by thatdiminishing of the businezz--till the largez' part of it isripairing--of old laces, embro'deries, and so forth. Madame's shop isthe chief place in the city for that. Of that we have all we can do. 'Tis a beautiful work. 

"So tha'z all I have to tell, Mr. Chezter; and I've enjoyed to tell youthat so you can see why we are so content and happy, my aunts andI--and Hector--and Marie Madeleine. H'm?"

"That's all you have to tell?"

"That is all. "

"But not all there is to tell, even of the past, mademoiselle. "

"Ah! and why not?"

"Oh, impossible!" Chester softly laughed and had almost repeated theword when the girl blushed; whereupon he did the same. For he seemedall at once to have spoiled the whole heavenly day, until she smilinglyrestored it by saying:

"Oh, yes! One thing I was forgetting. Just for the laugh I'll tellyou that. You know, even in a life as quiet as mine, sometimes manythings happening together, or even a few, will make you see batsinstead of birds, eh?"

"I know, and mistake feelings for facts. I've done it often, in amoderate way. "

"Yes? Me the same. But very badly, so that the sky seemed falling in, only once. "

Chester thought that if the two aunts, just then telling the biographyof their dolls, were his, his sky would have fallen in at least weekly. "Tell me of that once, " he said, and, knowing not why, called to mindthose four soldiers in France, to her, for some reason, unmentionable. 

"Well, first I'll say that the archbishop he had been the true friendof papa, but now this time, this 'once' when my sky seemed falling, both mamma and papa they were already gone. I don't need to tell youwhat the trouble was about, because it never happened; it onlythreatened to happen. So when I saw there was only me to prevent itand to----"

"To hold the sky up?"

"Yes, seeing that, it seemed to me the best friend to go to was thearchbishop. 

"'Well, my old and dear friend's daughter, ' he said, 'what is it?'

"'Most reverend father in God, 'tis my wish to become a nun. '

"'My child, that is a beautiful sentiment. '

"'But 'tis more; even more than my wish; 'tis my resolution. I must dothat. 'Tis as if I heard that call from heaven to me, AlineChapdelaine!'

"'Ah, but that's not only your name. Your mamma, up yonder, she's alsoAline Chapdelaine. '

"'Yes, but I know that call is to me. Ah, your Grace, surely, surely, you will not forbid me?'

"'No, my daughter. Yet at the same time that is not a thing to be donesuddenly, or in desperation. I'll appoint you a season for reflectionand prayer, and after that if your resolution remains the same youshall become a nun. '

"'But, for the sake of others, will not that season be made short?'

"'For your own sake, my daughter, as well as for others, I'll make itthe shortest possible. Let me see; I was going to say forty but I'llmake it only thirty-nine. '

"'Ah, your Grace, but in thirty-nine days----'

"He stopped me: 'Not days, my child; years. ' What he said after, 'tisno matter now; pretty soon I was kneeling and receiving hisbenediction. "

"And the sky didn't fall?"

"No, but--I can't explain to you--'twas that very visit prevent' itfalling. "

XXXVIII

It was in keeping with the coterie's spiritual make-up that they shouldknow a restaurant in the _vieux carré_, which "that pewblic" knew not, and whose best merits were not music and fresco, but serenity, hospitality, and cuisine---a haven not yet "Ammericanize'. "

Where it was they never told a philistine. The elect they informedunder the voice, as one might betray a bird's nest. It was but a stepfrom the crumbling Hotel St. Louis, and but another or so from thespires of St. Louis Cathedral. 

In it, at a round table, the joy-riders had passed the evening of theirholiday. As the cathedral clock struck nine they rose to part. At theboard Chester had sat next the same joy-mate allowed him all day in thecar. But with how reduced a share of her attention! Half of his ownhe had had to give, at his other elbow, to her aunt Yvonne; half ofAline's had gone to Dubroca. The other half into half of his was buthalf a half and that had to be halved by a quarter coming from the twonearest across the table, one of whom was Mlle. Corinne, whose queriesalways required thought. 

"Mr. Chezter, " she said, when the purchase of an evening paper had madethe great over-seas strife the general theme, "can you egsplain me whythey don' stop that war, when 'tis calculate' to projuce so much hardfeeling?"

Explaining as best he could without previous research, Chester hadturned again to Mlle. Yvonne to let her finish telling--inspire'd by anincoming course of the menu--of those happy childhood days when she andher sister and the unfortunate gentleman from whom they had boughtAline's manuscript went crayfishing in Elysian Fields street canal, always taking the dolls along, "so not to leave them lonesome"; how thedolls had visibly enjoyed the capture of each crayfish; and how she andCorinne and the dolls would delight in the same sport to-day, but, alas! "that can-al was fil' op! and tha'z another thing calculate' toprojuce hard feeling. "

Through such riddles and reminiscences and his replies theretopersistently ran Chester's uneasy question to himself: Why had Alinetold him that story of unnamable trouble which had goaded her to seekthe cloister? Why if not to warn him away from a sentiment which wasgrowing in him like a balloon and straining his heart-strings to holdit to its proper moorings?

Now the two cars let out their passengers at the De l'Isle gates and atthe door of the Castanados. Madame of the latter name, with her spouseheaving under one arm and Chester under the other, while Mme. Alexandrepushed behind, was lifted to her parlor. Returning to the street, Chester found the motors gone, MM. De l'Isle and Beloiseau gone withthem, and only the two Dubrocas, the three Chapdelaines, and Cupidawaiting him. 

And now, with Cupid leading, and sleeping as he led, and with a Dubrocabeside each aunt, and Aline and Chester following, this remnant of thecompany approached the Conti Street corner, on the way to theChapdelaine home. At the turn----

"Mademoiselle, " Chester asked in a desperation too much like hersbefore the arch-bishop, "do you notice that, as the old hymn says, weare treading where the saints have trod? _Your_ saints?"

"My--ah, yes, 'tis true. 'Tis here _grand'mère_----

"Turned that corner in her life where your _grandpère_ first saw her. Al'--Aline. "

"Mr. Chester?"

"I want this corner, from the day I first saw you turn it, to be allthat to you and me. Shall it not?"

She said nothing. Priceless moments glided by, each a dancing ghost. Just there ahead in the dark was Bourbon Street, and a short way downamong its huddled shadows were her board fence and batten gate. It wassenseless to have taken this chance on so poor a margin of time, butwhat's done's done! "Oh, Aline Chapdelaine, say it shall be! Say it, Aline, say it!"

"Mr. Chester, it is impossible! Impossible!"

"It is not! It's the only right thing! It shall be, Aline, it shallbe!"

"No, Mr. Chester, 'tis impossible. You must not ask me why, but 'tisimpossible!"

"It isn't! Aline, and I ask no why. I see the trouble. It's youraunts. Why, I'll take them with you, _of course_! I'll take them intomy care and love as you have them in yours, and keep them there whilethey and I live. I can do it, I've got the wherewithal! Things havehappened to me fast since I first saw you turn that corner behind us. I've inherited property, and only yesterday I was taken into one of thebest law firms in the city. I'll prove all that to you and your auntsto-morrow. Aline, unspeakable treasure, you shall not live theburied-alive life in which you are trying to believe yourself rightlyplaced and happy, my saint! My--adored--_saint_!"

"Yes, I must. What you ask is impossible. "

XXXIX

Long after midnight Chester had not returned to his room. He could nottolerate the confinement even of the narrow streets round about it. 

Far out Esplanade Avenue, uncompanioned, he was walking mile after milebeside a belt line of trolley-cars, or more than one, while at home, inBourbon Street, Cupid slept. 

But now the child awoke, startled. Four small feet were on one of hisarms, and Marie Madeleine was purring, at the top of her purr, in hisear. Drowsily he crowded her away. Purring on, she slowly walkedacross his stomach and dropped to the floor. But soon she leaped upagain to that sensitive region and purred into his nose, not at all asif to claim attention, but as though lost in thought. When he pushedher aside she dropped again to the floor, with such a quadruple thumpthat he looked after her, and as she loitered across his view with tailas straight up as Cleopatra's Needle, he observed just beyond her acondition of affairs that appalled him. 

Cold from his small fingers and toes to his ample heart, he rose, stoleinto the next room, and stood by the bed where lay Mlles. Corinne andYvonne as they had lain every night since their earliest childhood. 

"Ah! oh! h'nn!" Mlle. Corinne sprang to an elbow, nervouslywhispering: "What is it?"

"My back do', " he murmured, "stan'in' opem. "

"Oh, little boy, no, it cannot be! I bolt' it laz' evening when youwas praying. You know?"

"Yass'm, but it opem now; Marie Madeleine dess gone out thu it. "

Mlle. Yvonne sprang up dishevelled beside her dishevelled sister: "_Mondieu_! where is Aline?"

Colder than ever in hands and feet, the wee grandson of the intrepidSidney responded: "Stay still tell I go see. "

"Yes!" whispered Mlle. Corinne, slipping to the floor and tenderlypushing him, "go! safest for everybody! And if you see a burglar _don'threaten him_!"

"No'm, I won't. "

"No, but juz' run quick out the back door and fron' gate and holla'fire'! Go!"

At the crack of the door she listened after him while her sistercrowded close, whispering: "Ah, _pauvre_ Aline, always wise! Like us, silent! And tha'z after all the bravezt!"

In a moment Cupid was back, less frozen yet trembling: "She am' dah. Seem' like 'tis her leave de do' opem. "

"Her clothes--they are gone?"

"No'm, all dah 'cep' de cloak she tuck on de machine. Reckon she outin de honey-sucker bower whah _dey_ sot together Sunday evenin'. Reckon Marie Madeleine gone dah. I'll go see. "

"Ah, fearlezz boy, yes! Make quick!"

This time both women pushed, single file, all the way to the gardendoor. There they strained their sight down the path, beyond him, butthe bower was quite dark. "Corinne, _chére_, ought not one of us togo, yo'seff?--to spare her feelings--from that li'l' negro? You don'think one of us ought to go, yo'seff?"

"No, to sen' him, that is to spare those feel'--listen! . . . Ah, Yvonne, _grâce au ciel_, she's there!"

They frankly wept. "Thangg the good God!"

"Yvonne, _chère_, you know, we are the cause of this. 'Tis biccausejuz'--you and me. And she's gone yonder juz' for one thing; to be asfar from her _misérie_ as she can. "

"Yes, _chère_, I billieve that. I think even, she muz' not see us whenshe's riturning. " No footfall sounded, but the cat came in, tail up, purring. Back in their chamber, with wet cheeks on its unlatched door, the sisters listened. 

"I know what we muz' do, Yvonne, as soon as to-morrow. Tha'z strange Inever saw that biffo'!"

Cupid came and was let in. "She was al-lone, of co'se?" the pair askedfrom the edge of their bed. 

"Oh, yass'm, o' co'se; in a manneh, yass'm. "

"_Mon dieu_! li'l boy. In a manner? But how in a manner? Al-lone isal-lone! What she was doing?"

"Is I got to tell dat?"

"Ah, '_tit garçon_! Have you not got to tell it?"

"Well, she 'uz--she 'uz prayin'. "

"And tha'z the manner she was not al-lone?"

"Yas'm, dass all. " The little fellow dropped to his knees, clutched aknee of either questioner, and wept and sobbed. 

XL

M. Beloiseau reached across his workbench and hung up his hammer andtongs. The varied notes of two or three remote steam-whistles told himthat the hour, of the day after the holiday, was five. 

He glanced behind him, through his shop to the street door, where someone paused awaiting his welcome. He thought of Chester but it wasLandry, with an old broad book under his elbow. 

"Ah, come in, Ovide. "

As he laid aside his apron he handed the visitor the piece of metal hehad been making beautiful, and waved him to the drawing whose lines itwas taking. 

"But those whistles, " the bookman said, "they stop the handworkman too. "

"Yes. In the days of my father, the days of handwork, they meant onlysteamboat', coming, going; but now swarm' of men and women, boys, andgirl', coming, going, living by machinery the machine-made life. "

"'Sieur Beloiseau, " Landry good-naturedly, said, "you're too just tocondemn a gift of the good God for the misuse men make of it. "

Scipion glared and smiled at the same time: "Then let that gift of thegood God be not so hideouzly misuse'. "

But Ovide amiably persisted: "Without machinery--plenty of it--I shouldnot have this book for you, nor I, nor you, ever have been born. "

Chester, entering, found Beloiseau looking eagerly into the volume. "All the same, Landry, " the newcomer said, "you're no more a machineproduct than Mr. Beloiseau himself. "

The bookman smiled his thanks while he followed the craftsman'sscrutiny of the pages. "'Tis what you want?" he asked, and Chester sawthat it was full of designs of ironwork, French and Spanish. 

Scipion beamed: "Ah, you've foun' me that at the lazt, and just whenI'm wanting it furiouzly. "

"Mr. Beloiseau, " said Chester, "has a beautiful commission from the newPan-American Steamship Company. "

"Thanks to Mr. Chezter, " said Beloiseau, "who got me the job. Hencefor this book spot cash. " He turned aside to a locked closet anddrawer. 

"You had a pleasant holiday yesterday, " said Landry to Chester. 

"Who told you?"

"Mesdemoiselles, the two sisters Chapdelaine. I chanced to meet themjust now at the house of the archbishop, on the steps, they coming out, I going in. I had a book also for him. "

"Why! What's taking them to the archbishop?" Chester put away afrown: "Did they reflect the pleasure of the holiday?"

"Mr. Chester, no. " There was an exchange of gazes, but Scipionreturned, counting and tendering the price of the book. 

"Well, good evening, " Landry said, willing to linger; but "goodevening, " said both the others. 

Chester turned: "Beloiseau, I want to talk with you. Go, give yourselfa dip, brush some of that hair, and we'll dine alone in some place awayfrom things. "

"A dip, hah! Always I scrub me any'ow till I come to the skin. AlsoI'll put a clean shirt. You can wait? I'll leave you this book. "

Chester waited. When presently, with Scipion still picturesque thoughclean-shirted, they left the shop together, he gave the book a word ofpraise that set its owner off on the history of his craft. "Buthammered into a matrix"--he drew his watch and halted: "Spanish Fort, juzt too late; half-hour till negs train; I'll show you an example, myfather's work. " They turned back. 

Thus they lost a second train, and dined in the same snug nook as onthe day before with Aline and the rest. At twilight they took seats inJackson Square on a cast-iron bench "hardly worthy of the place, " asChester suggested. 

And Scipion flashed back: "Or, my dear sir, of any worthy place! Butyou was asking me----"

"About those four boys over in France, one of them yours. "

"Biccause sinze all day yesterday----?"

"That's it. I can't help thinking that mademoiselle is somehow thecause of their going. "

"Ah, of three she is, but of my son, no. My son he was already therewhen that war commence', and the cause of that was a very simple andor-_din_-ary in him, but not in the story of my father. I would liketo tell you ab-out that biccause tha'z also ab-out that house where wewas juz' seeing all that open-work on those balconie', and biccause sointerested, you, in old building', you are bound to hear ab-out thatsome day and probably hear it wrong. "

"Let's have it now; she told me yesterday to ask you for it. "

XLI

THE LOST FORTUNE

"Mighty solid, " the ironworker said, "that old house, so square andhigh. They are no Creole brick it is make with, that old house. "

Chester began to speak approvingly of the wide balconies runningunbrokenly around its four sides at both upper stories, but Beloiseaushook his head: "They don't billong to the firz' building of thathouse, else they _might_ have been Spanish, like here on the Cabildoand that old _Café Veau-qui-tête_. They would not be cast iron and ofthat complicate' disign, hah! But they are not even a French castiron, like those and those"--he waved right and left to the widebalconies of the Pontalba buildings flanking the square with suchgraceful dignity. "Oh, they make that old house look pretty good, those balconie', but tha'z a pity they were not wrought iron, biccauseM. Lefevre--he was rich--sugar-planter--could have what he choose, andshe was a very fashionable, his ladie. They tell some strange storiesab-out them and that 'ouse; cruelty to slave', intrigue with slave', duel' ab-out slave'. Maybe tha'z biccause those iron bar' up and downin sidewalk window', old Spanish fashion; maybe biccause in confusionwith that Haunted House in Royal Street, they are so allike, those twohouse'. But they are cock-an'-bull, those tale'. Wha's true theydon't tell, biccause they don' know, and tha'z what I'm telling you adthe present. 

"When my father he was yet a boy, fo'teen, fiv'teen, those Lefevre'they rent' to the _grand-mère_ of both Castanado and Dubroca, turnab-out, a li'l' slave girl so near white you coul'n' see she's black!You coul'n' even _suspec_' that, only seeing she's rent', that way, andknowing that once in a while, those time, that whitenezz coul'n' beav-void'. Myseff, me, I've seen a man, ex-slave, so white you woul'n'think till they tell you; but then you'd see it--black! But that li'l'girl of seven year', nobody coul'n' see that even avter told. Somepeople said: 'Tha'z biccause she's so young; when she's grow' up you'llsee. And some say, 'When she get chil'ren they'll show it, thosechil'ren--an' some be even dark!'

"Any'ow some said she's child of monsieur, and madame want to keep herout of sight that beneficent way. They would bet you any money if yougo on his plantation you find her slave mother by the likenezz. Shedi'n' look like him but they insist' that also come later. Any'owshe's rent' half-an'-half by those _grand-mère_' of Castanado andDubroca, at the firzt just to call 'shop'! at back door when a cuztomercome in, and when growing older to make herseff many other way' uzeful. And by consequence she was oft-en playmate with the chil'ren of allthat coterie there in Royal Street. Excep' my father; he was fo'teenyear' to her seven. "

"Was she a handsome child?" Chester ventured. 

"I think no. But in growing up she bic-came"--the craftsman handed outa pocket flash-light and an old _carte-de-visite_ photograph of ablack-haired, black-eyed girl of twenty or possibly twenty-three years. "You shall tell me, " he said:

"And you'll trust me, my sincerity?"

"Sir! if I di'n' truzt you, _ab-so-lutely_, you shoul'n' touch thatwith a finger. "

"Well, then, I say yes, she's handsome, trusting you not to gild myplain words with your imagination. She's handsome, but in a way easilyoverlooked; a way altogether apart from the charms of color andtexture, I judge, or of any play of feeling; not floral, not startling, not exquisite; but _statuesque_, almost heavily so, and replete withthe virtues of character. "

"Well, " said Beloiseau, putting away the picture, "sixteen year' sherimain' rent' to mesdames that way, and come to look lag that. And allof our parent'--gran'parent'--living that simple life like you see us, their descendant', now, she biccame like one of thosefamilie'--Dubroca--Castanado--or of that coterie entire. 

"So after while they want' to buy her, to put her free. But Mme. Lefevre she rif-use' any price. She say, 'If Fortune'--that was hername--'would be satisfi' to marry a nize black man like Ovide, whowould buy his friddom--ah, yes! But no! If I make her free without, she'll right off want to be marrie' to a white man. Tha'z the onlyarrengement she'll make with him; she's too piouz for any otherarrengement, while same time me I'm too piouz to let her _marry_ awhite man; my faith, that would be a crime! And also she coul'n' neverbe 'appy that way; she's too good and high-mind' to be marrie' to anywhite man wha'z willin' to marry a nigger. '

"So, then, it come to be said in all those card-club' that my fatherhe's try to buy Fortune so to marry her. An' by that he had a quarrelwith one of those young Lefevre', who said pretty much like his mother, only in another manner, pretty insulting. And, same old story, theyfought, like we say, 'under those oak, ' Métairie Ridge, with sharpen'foil'. And my father he got a bad wound. And he had to be nurse' longtime, and biccause all those shop' got to be keep she nurse' him morethan everybody elze. 

"Well, human nature she's strong. So, when he get well he say, 'Papa, I can' stay any mo' in rue Royale, neither in that _vieux carré_, neither in that Louisiana. ' And my grandpère and all that coterie theysay: 'To go at Connect-icut, or Kanzaz, or Californie, tha'z noril-ief; you muz' go at France and Spain, wherever 'tis good to studythe iron-work, whiles we are hoping there will be a renaissance in thatart and that businezz; and same time only the good God know' what hecan cause to happen to lead a child of the faith out of trouble andsorrow. '

"So my father he went, and by reason of that he di'n' have to settlethat queztion of honor what diztress all the balance of the coterie;whether to be on the side of Louisiana, or the Union. He di'n' runaway to ezcape that war; he di'n' know 'twas going to be, and he cameback in the mi'l' of it, whiles the city was in the han' of that Unionarmy. Also what cause him to rit-urn was not that war. 'Twas one ofthose thing' what pro-juce' that saying that the truth 'tis mo'stranger than figtion. 

"Mr. Chezter, 'twas a wonderful! And what make it the mo' wonderful, my father he wasn' hunting for that, neither hadn' ever dream' of it. He was biccome very much a wanderer. One day he juz' chance' to be ina village in Alsace, and there he saw some chil'ren, playing in thestreet. And he was very thirzty, from long time walking, and herequest' them a drink of water. And a li'l' girl fetch' him a drink. But she was modess and di'n' look in his face till he was biggening todrink. Then she look' up--she had only about seven year', and myfather he look' down, and he juz' drop that cup by his feet that itbroke--the handle. And when she cry, and he talk' with her and saydon' cry, he can make a cem-ent juz' at her own house to mend that to aperfegtion, he was astonizh' at her voice as much as her face. Andwhen he ask her name and she tell him, her firz' name, and say tha'zthe name of her _grand'-mère_, he's am-aze'! But when he see hermother meeting them he's not surprise', he's juz' lightning-struck. 

"Same time he try to hide that, and whiles he's mixing that cem-ent andsticking that handle he look' two-three time' into the front of thehair of that li'l' girl, till the mother she get agitate', and sheh-ask him: 'What you're looking? Who told you to look for somethingthere? _Ma foi_! you're looking for the _pompon gris_ of my motherand grandmother! You'll not fine it there. Tha'z biccause she's soyoung; when she's grow' up you'll see; but'--she part' as-ide her ownhair in front and he see', my father, under the black a li'l' patch ofgray, and he juz' say, '_Mon dieu_!' while she egsclaim'--

"'If you know anybody's got that _pompon_ in Louisiana, age of me, orelze, if older, the sizter of my mother, she's lost yonder sinze mo'than twen'y-five year'. My anceztor' they are _name_' Pompon for thatli'l' gray spot. '

"Well, then they--and her 'usband, coming in--they make great frien'. My father he show' them thiz picture, and when he tell them theorigin-al of that also is name' Fortune, like that child an' hermother, and been from in-fancy a slave, they had to cry, all of themtogether. And then they tell my father all ab-out those two sizter', how they get marrie' in that village with two young men, cousin' toeach other, and how one pair, a year avter, emigrate' to Louisiana withli'l' baby name' Fortune, and--once mo' that old story--they are boundto the captain of the ship for the prise of the passage till somebodyin Ammerica rid-eem them and they are bound to him to work that out. And coming accrozz, the father--ship-fever--die', and arriving, thepassage is pay by the devil know' who'. 

"Then my father he tell them that chile muz' be orpheline at two-threeyear', biccause while seeming so white she never think she wasn' black. 

"And so my father, coming ad that village the moz' unhappy in theworl', he went away negs day the moz' happy. And he took with him somephoto' showing that mother and chile with the mother's hair comb' toegspose that _pompon gris_; and also he took copy from those record' ofbabtism of the babtism of that li'l' Fortune, _émigré_. 

"Same time, here at home, _our_ Fortune she was so sick with somethingthe doctor he coul'n' make out the nature, and she coul'n' eat tillthey're af-raid she'll die. And one day the doctor bring her fatherconfessor, there where she's in bed, and break that gently that myfather he's come home, and then that he's bring with him the perfec'proof that she's as white as she look'. Well, negs day she's out ofbed; secon' she's dress--and laughing!--and eating! And every day myfather he's paying his intention', and Mme. Lefevre she's rij-oice, biccause that riproach is pass' from monsieur her 'usband and prittyquick they are marrie', and tha'z my mother. "

After a reverent silence Chester spoke: "And lived long and happilytogether?"

"Yes, a long, beautiful life. Maybe that life woul'n' be of adiztinction sufficient to you, but to them, yes. They are gone butsince lately. "

"And that Lefevre house?"

"Ah, you know! Full of Italian'--ten-twelve familie', with washing onstreet veranda eight day ev'ry week. _Pauvre vieux carré_!"

XLII

MÉLANIE

"I suppose, " Chester said, breaking another silence, "you and thatmother, and your father, have sat in the flowery sunshine of this oldplaza together----"

"A thousan' time', " the ironworker replied, mused a bit, and added: "Myfrien', you are a so patient listener as I never see. Biccause I knowyou are all that time waiting for a differen' story. And now--I shalltell you that?"

"Yes, however it hits me I've got to know it. "

"Well, after that, a year and half, I am born. I grow up. I 'avebrother' and sizter'. We all get marrie', and they, they are scatter'over the face of Louisiana. But me, I'm the oldest and my father takegreat trouble in educating me to sugceed him in his businezz, and so Idid, like you see. And the same with Dubroca and with Castanado--Ducatelhe's different he's come into that antique businezz by his mizfortune andhe's--oh, he's all right only he's not of the same inspiration to be ofthat li'l' clique. He's up-town Creole and with the up-town Creole mind. And those De l'Isle' they also got a son, and Mme. Alexandre she have avery amiable daughter; and, laz', not leazt, you know, thoseChapdelaine'----"

"I certainly do, " Chester murmured. 

"Yes, assuredlie, " said Beloiseau. "Well, now: In those generation'befo' there was in Royal Street--and Bourbon--and Dauphine--bisside'crozz-street'--so many of our--I ignore the Englizh word for that--our_affinité_, that our whole market of mat-_rim_-ony was not juz' in onesquare of Royal; but presently, it break out like an épidémique, ammongs'our chil'ren, to marry juz' accrozz and accrozz the street; a Beloiseauto a Castanado, a Castanado to a Dubroca, and so forth--even fifth!" Thespeaker smiled benignly. "Hah! many year' they work' my geniuz hard tomake iron candlestick'--orig-in-al diz-ign--for wedding-present'. Themoze of them, they marrie' without any romanze, egcep' what cann' beav-oid', inside the heart, when both partie' are young, and in lovetogether, and not rich neither deztitute. But year biffo' laz' we havethe romanze of that daughter of Mme. Alexandre and son of De l'Isle andson of Dubroca. "

"Is that Mélanie, whom you all mention so often but whom I've never seen?"

"Yes. Reason you don't see her---- But I'll tell you that. Mr. Chezter, that would make a beautyful story to go with those other' inthat book of Mlle. Aline--but of co'se by changing those name', and bypreten'ing that happen' at Hong Kong, or Chicago, or Bogota. Presently'tis too short, but you can easy mazk and coztume that in a splendidrhétorique till it's plenty long enough. "

"H'mm!" said Chester, wondering at the artisan's artlessness off hisbeaten track. "Go on. "

"Well, she's not beautyful, Mélanie; same time she's not bad-looking andshe's kindess of the kind, and whoever she love'--her mother, forexample--and Mlle. Aline--tha'z pretty touching, to see with what aninten-_city_ she love'. 

"Now, what I tell you, tha'z a very sicret bitwin you and me. Biccauseeven those Dubroca', _père_ and _mère_, and those De l'Isle', _père_ and_mère_, they do' know _all_ that; and me I know that only from Castanado, who know' it only from his wife; biccause she, she know' it only fromMlle. Aline, and none of them know that I know egcep' those Castanado'. 

"Well! sinze chilehood those three--Mélanie, De l'Isle, Dubroca, --theyare playmate' together, and Dubroca he's always call' Mélanie hisswit-heart. But De l'Isle, no. Always biffo', those De l'Isle they areof the, eh, the _beau monde_ and though li'l' by li'l' losing theirfortune, keeping their frien', some of them rich, yet still ad the sametime nize people. And that young De l'Isle he's a good-looking, well-behave', ambitiouz, and got--what you call--dash!

"That was the condition when they are all graduate' from school and goeach into his o'cupation, or hers, up to the eyebrow'. Mélanie and Mlle. Aline they work' with Mme. Alexandre, though not precizely together, biccause Mélanie she show' only an ability to keep those account' and toassist keeping shop, whiles Mlle. Aline she rimain' always up-stair'employing that great talent tha'z too valu'ble to be interrupt'. "

"Doesn't she keep the books now?"

"Yes, but tha'z only to assist Mélanie whiles Mélanie she's, eh, away. Dubroca he go' into businezz with his father, likewise Castanado with hisfather, but De l'Isle he's made a secretary in City-hall. So he have mo'time than those other' and he go' oft-en into society, and he get thosemanner' and cuztom' of society. And then that young Dubroca biggen veryplain to pay his intention' to Mélanie, and we are all pretty glad tonotiz that, biccause whiles he don't got that dash of De l'Isle, he'smodess, yet still brave to a perfegtion; and he's square and got plentysense, and he's steady and he's kind. Every way they are suit' to eachother and we think--if that poor old rue Royale _con_-tinue to run down, that will even be good to join those two businezz' together. Andbisside', sinze a li'l' shaver Dubroca he ain't never love nobody else, only Mélanie. 

"But also De l'Isle, like Dubroca, he was always pretty glad of everyegscuse to drop in there at Mme. Alexandre and pass word with Mélanie. 'Twas easy to see 'tis to Mlle. Aline he's in love and he come talk toMélanie biccause tha'z the nearess he can reach to Mlle. Aline egcep'juz' saying good-day whiles passing on street or at church door. Oh, hebehave the perfec' gen'leman, and still tha'z one reason she get thatli'l' 'Ector. Yes, we all see that, only Mélanie she don't. So Mlle. Aline she ezcape' him all she could, but, with that dash he's got, hepersevere' to hang on. And tha'z the miztake they both did, him andMélanie, in doing that American way, keeping that to themselve' insteadof--French way--telling their parent'. 

"Then another thing tranzpire'. My son and that son of Castanado bigin, both--but that come' mo' later. Any'ow one day Mélanie she bring Mlle. Aline a note from De l'Isle sol-iciting if she and Mélanie will go atmatinée with him and Dubroca. And when mademoiselle bigin to makeegscuse' Mélanie implore' her to go, biccause Mme. Alexandre say noCreole girl cann' go juz' with one man, or even with two. 'And mammashe's right, ' Mélanie say--with tear', --'even in that Am'erican way theygot a limit, and same time I'm perishing to go!'

"And when mademoiselle hear' what that play is ab-out she consent' at thelazt to go. Biccause tha'z ab-out a girl what billieve' a man's in loveto her, biccause he pay her those li'l' galanterie of high life--li'l'pol-ite figtion'--what every man---unless he's marrie'--egspect to pay toevery girl, to make thing' pleasant, you know?

"And that play turn out a so egcellent that many people, paying admissionad the door, find they got to pay ag-ain, secon' time, ad their seat, intear' that they weep; and that make it not so hard for Mélanie, who weepab-out ten price'. Negs day, Sunday, avter church and dinner, she comeyonder ad the home of mademoiselle, you know, Bourbon Street, and sitwith her in the gol'fish bower of that li'l' garden behine. And she'svery much bow' down. And she h-ask mademoiselle if she ain't notiz sinzlong time how De l'Isle is paying intention to her, Mélanie. Butmademoiselle di'n' have to be embarrazz' what to answer, biccause Mélanieshe's so rattle' she don't wait to hear. And Mélanie she say tha'z onecause that she was wanting De l'Isle to see that play; biccause sinzlately she's notiz he's make himseff very complimentary also tomademoiselle, and she, Mélanie, she want' him to notiz how that way he'sin danger to make mizunderstanding and diztress to himseff and--allconcern'. 

"And she prod-uce' a piece paper _fill_' with memorandum' of compliment'he's say to her one time and other, what she's wrote down whiles frezhspoken and what she billieve' are proof that he's in love to her andinten' to make his proposition so soon he's got good sign' he'll beaccept'. 'But I ain't never give' him sign, ' she say, 'biccause a girlshe cann' never be too careful. And so I think I'm bound to show that toyou, biccause I muz'n' be careful only for myseff, and if he's say suchthing' likewise to you, then tha'z to be false to both of us together. But, I think, ' she say, 'M. De l'Isle he coul'n' never do that!'"

"How did she say all that, angrily or meekly?"

"Oh! meek and weeping till mademoiselle she's compel' to weep likewise. And ad the end she's compel' to tell Mélanie yes, De l'Isle he's pay herthose same kind of sentimental plaisanteries; rosebud' to pin on theheart _outside_, a few minute', till the negs cavalier. Castanado, shesay, Beloiseau, they do the same--even more. 'Ah!' Mélanie say, 'butonly to you! and only biccause to say any mo' they are yet af-raid!Mademoiselle, those both, they are both in love to you!'

"And when Mélanie say that, Mlle. Aline take the both hand' of Mélanie inher both han' and ask her if she ain't herseff put them both, Castanado, Beloiseau, up to that--to fall in love to her. And pretty soon Mélanieshe's compel' to confezz that, not with word', but juz' with thefore-head on the knee of mademoiselle and crying like babie. And she sayshe's sin'. And yet same time while she h-ask' mademoiselle to pray thegood God and the mother of God to forgive that sin, she h-ask her to prayalso that they'll make De l'Isle to love her. 

"Biccause, she say, 'tis those unfortunate rosebud' of sentimentalplaisanterie he give her what firz' make her to love him. Andmademoiselle she ag-ree' to that if Mélanie she'll tell that whole storyalso to her mother; biccause mademoiselle she see what a hole that putthem both in, her and Mélanie, when she, mademoiselle, is bound to knowhe's paying, De l'Isle, all his real intention' to herseff. And Mélanieshe's in agonie and say no-no-no! but if mademoiselle will tell it, yes!And by reason that she's kep' that from her mother sinze the firz', shesay tell not Mme. Alexandre but Mme. Castanado, even when mademoisellesay if Mme. Castanado then also monsieur; biccause madame she'llcertainly make that condition, and biccause monsieur he can assist her tocommenze that whole businezz over, French way. And same time Mélanie shetake very li'l' stock in that French way, by reason that, avter all, those De l'Isle, though their money's gone, are still pretty high-life. 

"And tha'z how it come that those Castanado' have to tell me. Biccausemadame she cann' skip ar-ound pretty light, you know, and biccause theythink my, eh--pull--with those De l'Isle' is the moze of anybody, andbiccause I require to know how they are sure 'tis uzeless any mo' for_my_ son, or _their_ son, than for the son of De l'Isle, to sed the hearton Mlle. Aline. Also tha'z to egsplain me why Mlle. Aline say if allthose intention' to her don't finizh righd there, she got to stop comingad Mme. Alexandre. And of co'se! You see that, I su'pose?"

"And where was young Dubroca in all this?"

"Ah, another migsture! He was nowhere. Any'ow, tha'z how he feel; andthose other three boy' they di'n' feel otherwise. You see? We coul'n'egsplain them anything--ab-out Mlle. Aline, --all we can say: 'Roadclose'--stim-roller. ' So ad the end Dubroca he have, slimly, theadvantage; for him, to Mélanie, the road any 'ow seem' open; yet in vain. So there, all at same time, in that li'l' gang, rue Royale, was fiveheart' blidding for love, and nine other' blidding for those five and forMlle. Aline. 

"Well, of co'se--you see?--nobody cann' stand that! Firzt to find hisway out of that is Mélanie. Mélanie's confessor he think tha'z a sin tokeep any longer those fact' from her mother, and she confezz them to Mme. Alexandre, and ad the end she say: 'Mamma, in our li'l' coterie I cann'look anybody in the face any mo', and I'm going to biccome train' nurse. Tha'z not running away, yet same time tha'z not every evening to begetting me singe' in the same candle. '

"Then, almoze while she saying that, that son of De l'Isle he say to myson--who he's fon' of like a brother, and my son of him likewise, thoughthe one is a so dashing and the other a so quiet--''Oiseau, ' hesay, --biccause tha'z the nickname of my son, --'papa and me we visit' theFrench consul to-day and arrange' a li'l' affair. '

"And when he want' to tell some mo' my son he stop' him: 'Enough! Idiv-ine that. Why you di'n' take me al-ong? You'll arrange to go atthat France, of my _grand'mère_, and that Alsace, of her mother, to befighting _aviateur_, and leave '_Oiseau_ behine? Ah, you cann' do that!'And when that young Dubroca and Castanado get the win' of them, the allfour, all of same sweet maladie, they go together; two to be juz'_poilu_', two, _aviateur_'. That old remedie, you know; if they can'tlove--they'll fight! They are yonder, still al-ive, laz' account. "

Mainly to himself Chester said, "And I am here, my land still at peace, last account. "

"And also you, you've h-ask' mademoiselle, I think, " said the ironworker, "and alas, she's say aggain, no, eh?"

The reply was a gaze and a nod. 

"Well, Mr. Chezter, I'm sorrie! Her reason--you can't tell. 'Tis maybejuz' biccause those hero' are yonder. 'Tis maybe only that those twoaunt' are here. Maybe 'tis biccause both, maybe neither. You can'ttell. Maybe you h-ask too soon. Ad the present she know' you only sinzea few week'. She don't know none of yo' hiztorie, neither yo'familie--egcep' that h-angel of the Lord. Yo' char-_acter_, she may likethat very well yet same time she know' how easy that is for women to makemiztake' about. Maybe y'ought to 'ave ask' M'sieu' Thorndyke-Smith towrite at yo' home-town and get you recommen'. Even a cook he's got to'ave that--or a publisher, eh?"

"I've got that--within reach; my law firm has it. But, pshaw! _I_think, Beloiseau, while all your maybe's may be right the thing thatexplains mademoiselle's whole situation is that she's never seen a manworthy to touch a hem of her robe; and the only argument a lover can layat her feet is that she never will. "

"And you'll lay that, negs time?"

"Not till that manuscript business is settled, don't you see? Come, youmust go to bed. "

XLIII

Shrimps, rice, and watered wine for a sunset dinner. At its end thethree Chapdelaines, each with her small cup of black coffee, left thetable and its remnants to the other two members of the household, andpassed out as usual to the bower benches and the goldfish pool. 

Humming-birds were there, drinking frenziedly from honeysuckle cups tothe health of all things beautiful and ecstatic. Mlle. Yvonne stood ata bench's end to watch one of them dart from bloom to bloom. "Ah, Corinne, " she sighed, "if we could all be juz' humming-bird'!"

"_Chérie_, " cried her sister, "you are spilling yo' coffee!"

Whether for the coffee, for the fact that we can't all behumming-birds, or for some thought not yet spoken, Mlle. Corinne's eyeswere all but spilling their tears. As the trio sat down. Aline saidin gentlest accusation to the younger aunt:

"You are trembling. Why is that?"

The younger sister looked appealingly to the elder. "_Chère_, " Mlle. Corinne said to the girl, "we are anxiouz to confezz you something. Wewoul'n' never be anxiouz to confezz that, only we're af-raid alreadyyou've foun' us out!"

"Yes. I came this evening by Ovide's shop to return a book----"

"An' he tell you he's meet us----?"

"On the steps of the _archevêché_. "

"Ah, _chèrie_, " Yvonne tearfully broke in, "can you ever pardon that tous?"

Aline smiled: "Oh, yes; in the course of time, I suppose. That was notlike a drinking-saloon. "

"Ah-h! not in the leas'! We di'n' touch there a drop--nobodie di'n'offer us!"

The niece addressed the other aunt: "Go on. Tell me why you werethere. "

"Aline, we'll confess us! We wend there biccause--we are orphan'! Ofco'se, we know that biffo', sinze long time, many, many year'; but onlysinze a few day'----"

"Joy-ride day, " Aline put in, a bit tensely. 

"Ah, no! _Chérie_, you muz' not supose----"

"Never mind; 'last few days'--go on. "

"Well, sinze those laz' few day' we bigin to feel like we juz' got totake step' ab-oud that!"

"So you took those steps of the _archevêché_. "

"_Chère_, we'll tell you! Yvonne and me, avter all those many 'appyyear' with you, we think we want--ah, _chérie_, you'll pardon that?--wewant ad the laz' to live independent! So we go ad the archbishop. Andhe say, 'How _I'm_ going to make you that? You think to be independentby biccoming Sizter' of Charitie--of Mercy--of St. Joseph?'

"'Ah, no, ' we say, 'we have not the geniuz to be those; not even to beLi'l'-Sizter'-of-the-Poor. All we want--and we coul'n' make ourselv'the courage to ask you that, only we've save' you so large egspensesnot asking you that already sinze twenty-thirty year' aggo--we want youto put us in orphan asylum. ' We was af-raid at firz' he's goin' to bemad; but he smile very kine and say: 'Yes, yes; you want, like the goodLord say, to biccome like li'l' children, eh?'

"'Ah, yes!' we tell him, 'tha'z what we be glad to do. They gotnothing in the worl' we can do, Yvonne and me, so easy like that! Andsame time we be no egspense, like those li'l' _orpheline_'; we can washdish', make bed', men' apron'; and in that way we be independent!'Well, he scratch his head; yet same time he smile', while he say, 'Go, li'l' children, to yo' home. I'll see if Mère Veronique can figs that, and if yes, I'll san' for you. ' And, _chérie_, juz' the way he saidthat, we are _sure_ he's goin' to san'. "

With her tears running freely Aline softly laughed. She rose, took ahand of each aunt, laid the two together, bent low, and kissed them, saying: "He will not, for he shall not. Nothing shall ever part us butheaven. "

XLIV

One evening M. Castanado sat reading to his wife from a fresh number ofthe weekly _Courier des Etats-Unis_. 

It was not long after the incident last mentioned. Chester had becomeaccustomed to his new lift in fortune, but as yet no further word as tothe manuscript had reached him; he had only just written a secondletter of inquiry after it. Also that summons to the two aunts, fromthe archbishop, of which the pair were so sure, was still unheard; noneed had arisen for Aline to take any counter-step. We _could_ namethe exact date, for it was the day of the week on which the _Courier_always came, and the week was the last in which a Canal Streetmovie-show beautifully presented the matchless Bernhardt as a widowedshopkeeper--like Mme. Alexandre, but with a son, not daughter, in love. 

The door-bell rang. Castanado went down to the street. There, lettingin a visitor, he spoke with such animation that madame, listening fromher special seat, guessed, and before the two were half up-stairs knew, who it was. It was Mélanie Alexandre. 

No one answered her mother's bell, she said, kissing madamelingeringly, twice on the forehead and once on either vast cheek. Shewas short and square, with such serene kindness of face and voice as tobe the last you would ever pick out to fall into a mistake of passion, however exalted. Of course, that serenity may have come since themistake. Both Castanados seemed to take note of it as if it had comesince, and she to be willing they should note it. 

"No, " they said, "Mme. Alexandre had gone with Dubroca and his wife tothat movie of Sarah. "

"And also with M. Beloiseau?" asked Mélanie, with a lurking smile, asshe sat down so fondly close to madame as to leave both her small handsin one of her friend's. 

"Ah, now, " madame exclaimed, "there is nothing in that! You ought tobe rijoice' if there was. "

The new look warmed in Mélanie's eyes. "I'll be very glad if that timeever comes, " she said. 

"Then you billieve in the second love?"

"Ah, in a case like that! Indeed, yes. In their first love they bothwere happy; the second would be in praise of the first. "

"And to separate them there is only the street, " Castanado suggested, "and Royal Street, street of their birth and chilehood, and so narrow, it have the effect to join, not separate. But!"--he made a warymotion--"kip quite, eize they will not go into the net, those oldbird', hah!"

There was a smiling silence, and then--"Well, " madame said, "they areall to stop here as they riturn. Waiting here, you'll see them all. "

"Yes, and beside', I have some good news for you; news anyhow to me. "

The pair smiled brightly: "You 'ave another letter from Dubroca!"

"Yes. He's again wounded and in hospital. "

"Oh-h, terrible! tha'z to you good news?"

"Yes. Look, monsieur; he has, at the front, the chance to be hit somany times. If he's hit and only wounded his chances to be hit againare made one less, eh? And while he's in hospital they are again twoor three less. Shall we not be glad for that? And moreover, how hegot his wound, that is better. He got that taking, by himself, nineBoches! And still the best news is what he writes about his friendCastanado. "

"Ah, Mélanie! And you hold that back till now? And you know we arewithout news of him sinze a month! He's promote'? He's decorate'?"

"He's found a treasure. I think maybe you'll get his letter to-morrow. Me, I got mine soon; passing the post-office I went in and asked. "

"But how, he found a treasure? and what sort?"

"He just happened to dig it up, in a cellar, in Rheims. He'sbetrothed. '

"Mélanie! What are you saying?"

"What he says. And that's all he says. I hope you'll hear all aboutthat to-morrow. "

"Oh, any'ow tha'z the bes' of news!" Castanado said, kissing his wife'shand and each temple. "Doubtlezz he's find some lovely orphan of thathideouz war; we can trus' his good sense, our son. But, Mélanie, hemuz' have been sick, away from the front, to make that courtship. "

"I do not know. Everything happens terribly fast these days. I hopeyou'll hear all about that to-morrow. "

Castanado playfully lifted a finger: "Mélanie, how is that, you passthat poss-office, when it is up-town, while you--?" The question hungunfinished--maybe because Mélanie turned so red, maybe because thedoor-bell rang again. 

Enlivened by the high art they had been enjoying and by the fresh nightair, a full half-dozen came in: M. And Mme. De l'Isle, whom the othershad chanced upon as they left the theatre; Dubroca and his wife; Mme. Alexandre; and finally Beloiseau. "Mélanie!" was the cry of each ofthese as he or she turned from saluting madame; this was one ofmadame's largest joys; to get early report from larger or smallerfractions of the coterie, on the good things they had seen or heard, from which her muchness otherwise debarred her. The De l'Isles, however, were not such a matter of course as the others, and Mme. Del'Isle, as she greeted Mme. Castanado, said, in an atmosphere thattrembled with its load of mingled French and English:

"We got something to show you!"

In the same atmosphere--"And how got you away from yo' patient?" Mme. Alexandre asked her daughter as they embraced a second time. 

"I tore myself, " said Mélanie, while Castanado, to all the rest, wassaying:

"And such great news as Mél'----"

But a sharp glance from Mélanie checked him. "Such great news as wehave receive'! Our son is bethroath'!--to a good, dizcreet, beautifulFrench girl; which he _foun_', in a cellar at Rheims!" When adrum-fire of questions fell on him he grew reticent and answeredquietly: "We have only that by firz' letter. Full particular' prettysoon, perchanze to-morrow. "

"Then to-morrow we'll come hear ab-out it, " Beloiseau said, "and tellab-out the movie. Mme. De l'Isle she's also got fine news, what shecann' tell biffo' biccause"--he waved to Mme. De l'Isle to say why, buther husband spoke for her. 

"Biccause, " he said, "'tis all in a pigture, war pigture, on a New YorkSunday paper, and of co'se we coul'n' stop under street lamp for that;and with yo' permission"--to Mme. Castanado--"we'll show that firz' ofall to Scipion. "

Beloiseau put on glasses and looked. "'General Joffre--'" he began toread. 

"No, no! not that! This one, where you know the _général_ only by theback of his head. "

"Ah--ah, yes; 'Two _aviateur_' riceiving from General Joffre'--my God!De l'Isle--my God! madame, "--Scipion pounded his breast with thepaper--"they are yo' son and mine!"

The company rushed to his elbows. "My faith! Castanado, there aretheir name'! and 'For destrugtion of their eighteenth enemy aeroplane, under circumstance' calling for exceptional coolnezz and intrepid-ity!'"

There was great and general rejoicing and some quite pardonableboasting, under cover of which Mélanie and her mother slipped out bythe inside way, without mention of the young Dubroca, his prisoners, sickness, or letter, except to his father and mother, who told of himmore openly when the Alexandres were safely gone. That brought freshgladness and praise, a fair share of which was for Mélanie. 

So presently the remaining company vanished, leaving Mme. Castanadofree to embrace her kneeling husband and boast again the power ofprayer. 

XLV

The cathedral that year was undergoing repairs. 

Its cypress-log foundations, which had kept sound from colonial days ina soil always wet, had begun to decay when a new drainage system beganto dry it out. Fact, but also allegory. 

It may have been in connection with this work, or with some change inthe house of the Discalceated Sisters of Mt. Carmel, or of thearchbishop, or of St. Augustine's Church, that a certain priest ofexceptional taste, Beloiseau's father confessor, dropped in on him toorder an ornamental wrought-iron grille for the upper half of a newdoor. While looking at patterns he asked:

"And what is the latest word from your son?"

Scipion showed him that picture--he had bought one for himself--thedear old unmistakable back of "Papa Joffre, " and the dear youngunmistakable faces of the two boys, Beloiseau and De l'Isle. 

A talk followed, on the conflict between a father's pride and hisyearning to see his only son safely delivered from constant deadlyperil. They spoke of Aline. Not for the first time; Scipion, unawarethat the good father was her confessor also, had told him before of hisson's hopeless love, to ask if it was not right for him, the father, tohelp Chester win the marvellous girl, since winning would win the twoboys home again. 

Patterns waited while the ironworker said that to the tender chagrin ofall the coterie Chester was refused--a man of such fineness, suchpromise, mind, charm, and integrity, and so fitted for her in years, temperament, and tastes, that no girl, however perfect, could hope tobe courted by more than one such in a lifetime. 

In brief Creole prose he struck the highest key of Shakespeare'ssonnets: "Was she not doing a grievous wrong to herself and Chester, tothe whole coterie that so adored her, especially to the De l'Isles andhimself, and even to society at large? Her reasons, " he said, shiftingto English, "I can guess _at them_, but guessing at 'alf-a-dozenconvinze' me of none!"

"Have you guess' at differenze of rilligious faith?" the priestinquired. 

"Yes, but--nothing doing; I 'ave to guess no. "

"Tha'z a great matter to a good Catholic. "

"Ah, father! Or-_din_-arily, yes. Bud this time no. Any'ow, thistime tha'z not for us Catholic' to be diztress' ab-out. . . . Ah, yes, chil'ren. But, you know? If daughter', they'll be of the faith andconduc' of the mother; if son', faith of the mother, conduc' of thefather; and I think with that even you, pries' of God, be satizfie', eh?

"My dear frien', you know what I billieve? Me, I billieve in heaventhey are _waiting impatiently_ for that marriage. "

The priest may have been professionally delinquent, but he chose toleave the argument unrefuted. He smilingly looked at his watch. "Well, " he said, "I choose this design. Make it so. Good evening. "He turned away. Beloiseau called after him, but the man of God keptstraight on. 

The ironworker loitered back to where the chosen pattern lay, and stoodover it still thinking of Chester. Presently a soft voice sounded soclose by that he turned abruptly. At his side was an extremely winsomestranger. His artistic eye instantly remarked not only herwell-preserved beauty, but its gentle dignity, rare refinement, anduntypical quality. Whether it was Creole or _Américain_, Southern, Northern, or Western, nothing betrayed; on the surface at least, theprovincial, as far as the ironworker could see, was wholly bred out ofher. He noted also the unimpaired excellence of her erect and girlishslightness and, under her pretty hat and early whitened hair, thecarven fineness of her features. Her whole attire pleasantly befittedher years, which might have been anything short of fifty; and yet, ifScipion was right, she might have dressed for thirty. 

"Are you Mr. Beloiseau?" she inquired. 

"I am, " he said. 

"Mr. Beloiseau, I'm the mother of Geoffry Chester. You know him, Ibelieve?"

"Oh, is that possible? He is my esteem' frien', madame. Will you"--hebegan to dust a lone chair. 

"No, thank you; I came to find Geoffry's quarters. I left the hotelwith my memorandum, but must have dropped it. I remember onlyBienville Street. "

"He's not there any mo'. Sinze only two day' he's move'. Mrs. Chezter, if you'll egscuse me till I can change the coat I'll show youthose new quarter'. Whiles I'm changing you can look ad that book ofpattern', and also--here--there's a pigtorial of New York; that--tha'zof my son and the son of my neighbor up-stair', De l'Isle, ric'ivingmedal' from Général Joffre----"

"Why, Mr. Beloiseau can it be!"

"But you know, Mrs. Chezter, he's not there presently, yo' son. He'sgone at St. Martinville, to the court there. "

"Yes, to be back to-morrow or next day. They told me in his officethis forenoon. I reached the city only at eleven, train late. Hedidn't know I was coming. My telegram's on his desk unopened. Buthaving time, I thought I'd see whether he's living comfortably or onlyfancies he is. "

On their way Mrs. Chester and her guide hardly spoke until Scipionasked: "Madame, when you was noticing yo' telegram on the desk of yo'son you di'n' maybe notiz' a letter from New York? We are prettieanxiouz for that to come to yo' son. I do' know if you know about thator no, but M. De l'Isle and madame, and Castanado and his madame, andDubroca and his madame, and Mme. Alexandre and me, and threeChapdelaine', we are all prettie anxiouz for that letter. "

"Yes, I know about it, and there is one, from a New Yorkpublishing-house, on Geoffry's desk. "

"Well, madame, Marais Street, here's the place. Ah! and street-car--orjitney--passing thiz corner will take you ag-ain at yo' hotel. "

XLVI

Satisfied with her son's quarters, Mrs. Chester returned to her hoteland had just dined when her telephone rang. 

"Mme. --oh, Mme. De l'Isle, I'm so please'----"

The instrument reciprocated the pleasure. "If Mrs. Chezter was not toofat-igue' by travelling, monsieur and madame would like to call. "

Soon they appeared and in a moment whose brevity did honor to bothsides had established cordial terms. Rising to go, the pair asked agreat favor. It made them, they said, "very 'appy to perceive that Mr. Chezter, by writing, has make his mother well acquaint' with that li'l'coterie in Royal Street, in which they, sometime', 'ave the honor to beinclude'. " "The honor" meant the modest condescension, and when Mrs. Chester's charming smile recognized the fact the pair took freshdelight in her. "An' that li'l' coterie, sinze hearing that fromBeloiseau juz' this evening, are anxiouz to see you at ones; they are, like ourselve', so fon' of yo' son; and they cannot call alltogether--my faith, that would be a procession! And bi-side', Mme. Castanado she--well--you understan' why that is--she never go' h-out. Same time M. Castanado he's down-stair' waiting----

"Shall I go around there with you? I'll be glad to go. " They went. 

Through that "recommend'" of Chester, got by Thorndyke-Smith for thelaw firm, and by him shown to M. De l'Isle, the coterie knew that thepretty lady whom they welcomed in Castanado's little parlor was of afamily line from which had come three State governors, one of whom hadbeen also his State's chief justice. One of her pleasantestimpressions as she made herself at ease among them, and they around herand Mme. Castanado, was that they regarded this fact as honoring allwhile flattering none. She found herself as much, and as kindly, ontrial before them as they before her, and saw that behind all theirlively conversation on such comparatively light topics as the WorldWar, greater New Orleans, and the decay of the times, the main questionwas not who, but what, she was. As for them, they proved at leastequal to the best her son had ever written of them. 

And they found her a confirmation of the best they had ever discernedin her son. In her fair face they saw both his masculine beauty andthe excellence of his mind better interpreted than they had seen themin his own countenance. A point most pleasing to them was the palpablefact that she was in her son's confidence. Evidently, though arrivingsooner than expected, her coming was due to his initiative. Clearly hehad written things that showed a juncture wherein she, if but promptenough, might render the last great service of her life to his. Oh, how superior to the ordinary American slap-dash of the matrimoniallottery! They felt that they themselves had taken the American way toomuch for granted. Maybe that was where they were unlike Mlle. Aline. But she was not there, to perceive these things, nor her aunts, to beseen and estimated. The evening's outcome could be but inconclusive, but it was a happy beginning. 

Its most significant part was a brief talk following the mention of theCastanado soldier-boy's engagement. His expected letter had come, bringing many pleasant particulars of it, and the two parents wereenjoying a genuine and infectious complacency. "And one thing of thelargez' importanze, Mrs. Chezter, " madame said with sweet enthusiasm, "--the two they are of the one ril-ligion!"

Was the announcement unlucky, or astute? At any rate it threw thesubject wide open by a side door, and Mrs. Chester calmly walked in. 

"That's certainly fortunate, " she said. Every ear was alert andBeloiseau was suddenly eager to speak, but she smilingly went on: "It'strue that, coming of a family of politicians, and being petdaughter--only one--of a judge, I may be a trifle broad on that point. Still I think you're right and to be congratulated. "

The whole coterie felt a glad thrill. "Ah, madame, " Beloiseauexclaimed, "you are co'rec'! But, any'ow, in a caze where the twofaith' _are_ con-_tra_-ry 'tis not for you Protestant' to be diztres'ab-out! You, you don' care so much ab-out those myzterie' of bil-iefas about those rule' of conduc'. Almoze, I may say, you run those_rule_' of conduc' into the groun'--and tha'z right! And bis-ide', you'ave in everything--politic', law, trade, society--so much the upperhan'--in the bes' senze--ah, of co'se in the bes' senze!--that thechil'ren of such a case they are pretty sure goin' to be Protestant!"

Mrs. Chester, having her choice, to say either that marriages acrossdifferences of faith had peculiar risks, or that Geoffry's uncle, the"Angel of the Lord, " had married, happily, a Catholic, chose neither, let the subject be changed, and was able to assure the company that themissive on Geoffry's desk was no bulky manuscript, but a neat thinletter under one two-cent stamp. 

"Accept'!" they cried, "that beautiful true story of 'The 'Oly Crozz'is accept'! Mesdemoiselles they have strug the oil!"

Mme. Castanado had a further conviction:

"'Tis the name of it done that! They coul'n' rif-use that name!--andeven notwithstanding that those publisher' they are maybe Protestant!"

The good nights were very happy. The last were said five squares away, at the hotel, to which the De l'Isles brought her back afoot. "Andto-morrow evening, four o'clock, " madame said, "I'll come and we'll gomake li'l' visite at those Chapdelaine'. "

Mrs. Chester had but just removed her hat when again the telephone;from the hotel office--"Your son is here. Yes, shall we send him up?"

XLVII

With hands under their gray sleeves two white-bonneted _religieuses_turned into Bourbon Street and rang the Chapdelaines' street bell. 

Mlle. Yvonne flutteringly let them into the garden, Mlle. Corinne intothe house. The conversation was in English, for, though SisterConstance was French, Sister St. Anne, young, fair, and the chiefspeaker, was Irish. They came from Sister Superior Veronique, theysaid, to see further about mesdemoiselles entering, eh----

Smilingly mesdemoiselles fluttered more than ever. "Ah, yes, yes!Well, you know, sinze we talk ab-out that with the archbishop we'vetalk' ab-out it with our niece al-_so_, and we think she's got to getmarrie' befo' we can do that, biccause to live al-lone that way she'stoo young. But we 'ave the 'ope she's goin' to marry, and then----!"

"Have you made a will?"

"Will! Ah, we di'n' never think of that! Tha'z a marvellouz we di'n'never think of that--when we are the two-third' owner' of that lovelyproprity there! And we think tha'z always improving in cozt, thatplace, biccause so antique an' so pittoresque. And if Aline shemarrie' and we, we join that asylum doubtlezz Aline she'll be rij-oice'to combine with us to leave that lovely proprity ad the lazt to thechurch! Biccause, you know, to take that to heaven with us, tha'zimpossible, and the church tha'z the nearez' we can come. " Odd as themoment seemed for them, tears rolled down their smiling faces. 

"But"--they dried their eyes--"there's another thing also bisside'. Weare, all three, the authorezz' of a story that we are prettie suretha'z accept' by the publisher'; an' of co'ze if tha'z accept'--and ifthose publisher' they don' swin'le us, like so oftten--we don't need tobe orphan' never any mo', and we'll maybe move up-town and juz' keepthat proprity here for a souvenir of our in-fancy. But that betwo-three days yet biffo' we can be sure ab-oud that. Maybe ad thelaz' we'll 'ave to join the asylum, but tha'z our hope, to move up towninto the _quartier nouveau_ and that beautiful 'garden diztric'. ' Butwe'll always _con_-tinue to love the old 'ouse here. 'Tis a verygenuine ancient _relique_, that 'ouse. You see those wall'? Solidplank of two inch' and from Kentucky!" They went through the wholestory--the house, the relics of their childhood--"Go you, Yvonne, fedgethem!"

The meek _religieuses_ did their best to be both interested andsincere, but somehow found diplomacy to escape the "li'l' lake" and itsgoldfish, and even took the piety of the cat with a dampening absenceof mind. Their departure was almost hurried. There was nothing to doon either side, the four agreed, but to wait the turn of events. 

The two gray robes and white bonnets had but just got away when thebell rang again and Mlle. Yvonne let in Mme. De l'Isle and Mrs. Chester. 

But these calls were in mid-afternoon. The evening previous--"Show Mr. Chester to three-thirty-three, " the hotel clerk had said, and presentlyMrs. Chester was all but perishing in the arms of her son. 

"Geoffry! Geoffry! you needn't be ferocious!"

They took seats facing each other, low seats that touched; but whenthey joined hands a second time he dropped to his knees, asking manyquestions already answered in her regular and frequent letters. Newsis so different by word of mouth when the mouth's the sweetest, sacredest ever kissed. "And how's father?"

As if he didn't know to the last detail!

All at once--"Why didn't you say you were coming?" he savagely demanded. 

"No matter, " his mother replied, "I'm glad I didn't, things havehappened so pleasantly. I've seen your whole Royal Street coterie, except, of course----"

"Yes, of course. "

The mother told her evening's experience. 

"And you like my friends?"

"Why, Geoffry, you're right to love them. But, now, how came you backso soon from St. What's-his-name?"

"Opposing counsel compromised the case without trial. Mother, it's thegreatest professional victory I've ever won. "

"Oh, how fine! Geoffry, how are you getting on, professionally, anyhow?"

"Better than my best hope, dear; far better. I've shot right up!"

"Then why do you look so weary and care-worn?"

"I don't. I'm older, that's all, dear. "

"Oh! Prospering and care-free, and yet you'd drop everything and go toFrance, to war. "

"No, dearie, no. I'm sorry I wrote you what I did, but I only said Ifelt like it. I don't now. I envied those Royal Street boys, whocould do that with a splendid conscience. I--I can't. I can't gokilling men, even murderers, for a remote personal reason. I must waittill my own country calls and my patriotism is pure patriotism. That'shigher honor--to _her_, isn't it?"

"It is to you; I'm not bothering about her. "

"You will when you see her, first sight. To-morrow afternoon, you say. Wish I could be there when your eyes first light on her! Mother, dearie, isn't it as much she as I you've come to see?"

"Well, if it is, what then?"

"I'm glad. But I draw the line at seeing. _Help_, you understand, Idon't want--I won't have!"

"Why, Geoffry, I----!"

"Oh, I say it because there isn't one of that kind-hearted coterie whohasn't wanted to put in something in my favor. I forbid! A dozen toone--I won't allow it! No, nor any two to one, not even we two. Winor lose, I go it alone. 'Twould be fatal to do otherwise if I would. You'll see that the minute you see her. "

"Why, Geoffry! What a heat!"

"Oh, I'll be the only one burned. Good night. I can't see youto-morrow before evening. Shall we dine here?"

"Yes. Oh, Geoffry--that New York letter! Manuscript accepted?"

A shade crossed the son's brow. "Don't you think I ought to tell herfirst?"

"Her first, " the mother--the _mother_--repeated after him. "Maybe so;I don't care. " They kissed. "Good night. "

"Good night . . . Good night . . . Good night, dear, darling mother. Good night!"

XLVIII

At the batten door of her high, tight garden-fence Mlle. Yvonne, werepeat, let in Mme. De l'Isle and Mrs. Chester. 

"Mother of--ah-h-h!" Her rapture was mated to such courteous restraintthat dinginess and dishevelment were easily overlooked. "And 'owmarvellouz that is, that you 'appen to come juz' when he--and us--we'regetting that news of the manu'----"

"What! accepted?"

"Oh, _that_ we di'n' hear _yet_! We only hear he's hear' something, but we're sure tha'z the only something he can hear!" She had begun toclose the gate, but Mrs. Chester lingered in it. 

"That fine large house and garden across the way, " she said, "are theya Creole type?"

"Yes, bez' kind--for in the city. They got very few like that in the_vieux carré_, but up yonder in that beautiful garden diztric' of the_nouveau quartier_ are many, where we'll perchanze go to live some daypritty soon. That old 'ouse we're inhabiting here, tha'z--like us, ha, ha!--a pritty antique. Tha'z mo' suit' for a _relique_ than to livein, especially for Tantine--ha, ha!--tha'z auntie, yet tha'z what wecall our niece. Aline--juz' in _plaisanterie_!--biccause she take' somuch mo' care of us than us of her. "

Mrs. Chester had stopped to look around her. "Whenever you move, " shesaid, "you'll have to leave this delightful little garden behind; itwon't fit out of these quaint surroundings. "

"Ah! We won't want that any mo'!"

They pressed on. "That 'ouse acrozz street, " said Mme. De l'Isle, "Inotiz there the usual sign. "

"Ah, yes, yes! 'For Sale or Rent'; tha'z what always predominate' inthat poor _vieux carré_. But here is my sizter. Corinne, Mrs. Chezter, the mother of Mr. Chezter--as you see by the _image_ of him inthe face! I can have the boldnezz to say that, madame, biccause neverin my life I di'n' see a young man so 'andsome like yo' son!"

The mother blushed--a lifelong failing. "At home, " she said, "he'scalled his father's double. "

"Is that possible? But tha'z the way with people. Some people theyfind Aline the _image_ of Corinne, and some of me. Yet Corinne andme--look!"

The four went in--to the usual entertainment: the solid plank walls, the fine absence of lath and plaster, Aline's "li'l' robe of baptism, "and the bridegroom and bride who had gone a lifetime without a changeof linen. They passed out into the rear garden and told wonderfulstories of those gifted little darlings the goldfish. Hector, unfortunately absent, had a mouth-organ, to whose strains the fisheswould listen so motionless that you could see they were spellbound. Yvonne ran back into the house to get it, but for some cause returnedwith nerves so shaken that the fishes would do nothing but run wildlyto and fro. Still, that was just as startling proof of their amazingwhatever-it-was!

Seats were not taken in the bower. The declining sun filled it. Mrs. Chester moved fondly from one flower-bed to another, and while thesisters eagerly filled her hands with their choicest bloom Yvonneprivately got a disturbed glance to Corinne that drew the four indoorsagain. There the outside quaintness tempted Mrs. Chester at once to afront window, with Mlle. Yvonne at her side. 

The front garden was not as the visitor had seen it shortly beforewhile entering. She turned silently away, while mademoiselle, asthough surprised, cried to her sister and Mme. De l'Isle: "Ah! Alineshe's arrive'! Mrs. Chezter, 'ow tha'z fortunate for us all!"

So with the other three Mrs. Chester looked out again. Half-way up thewalk stood Aline. Her back was to the house. Cupid was just insidethe gate, and between them, closely confronting her, was a thirdfigure--Geoffry Chester. The indoor company could see his face, butnot its mood, so dazzling was the low sun behind him; but certainly itwas not gay. Her hand lay in his through some parting speech, but fellfrom it as both returned toward the gate. Which Cupid opened--sadirony--for Chester, and while the child locked him out Aline cameforward wrapped in sunlight. 

By steps, as she came, her beauty of form, face, and soul grew on Mrs. Chester's sight, and when, in the house, with her sunset halo quenchedand her presence more perfectly humanized, her smile and voice crownedthe revelation, it happened as Geoffry had said it would; the mother'sheart went out to her in fond and complete acceptance. 

To the four women taking seats with her the laying of a graceful hatoff her dark hair was the dissolving of one lovely picture into anotherunmarred by the fact that a letter which she held in her fingers wasthe publishers' latest word to Chester. But now, as her own silentgaze fell on it held in her lap in both hands, so did theirs, till herfingers shook and she bit her lip. Then--"Never mind to read it, chère, " Mme. De l'Isle said, "juz' tell us. We are prepare' for theworz'. They want to poz'pone the pewblication, or they don't want topay in advanz'?"

Aline lifted so bright a smile through her tears that every heart grewlighter. "They don't want it at all, " she said. "They have sent itback!"

"Oh-h-h! Impossible!" exclaimed the two sisters, their eyes filling. "The clerk he's put the wrong letter--letter for another party!"

Aline smiled again. "No; Mr. Chester, he has the manuscript. Ah, youpoor"--again she smiled, biting her lip and wiping her tears. Then sheturned, looked steadfastly into Mrs. Chester's face, and suddenlyhanded her the missive. "Read it out. "

Mrs. Chester did so. As history, it said, the paper's interest was toomerely encyclopaedic for magazine use, while as romance it was too mucha story of peoples, not persons; romantic yet not romance. As to bookform the same drawbacks held, besides the fact that there was notenough of it, not one-fifth enough, for even a small book. 

When the reader would have handed the letter back it was agreed insteadthat she should give it to her son. "What does he purpose to do?" sheinquired. "This is the judgment of but one publisher, and thereare----"

"In the North, " Mme. De l'Isle broke in, "they got mo' than a dozenpewblisher'!"

"Whiles one, " the sisters pleaded, "tha'z all we require!"

"I know that, " said Aline to the four. "'Twas of that we were speakingat the gate. But"--to Mrs. Chester--"that judgment of the onepublisher is become our judgment also. So this evening he will bringyou the manuscript, and in two or three days, when we come to see you, my two aunt' and me--I, you can give it me. "

"May I read it? I've been to Ovide's and read 'The Clock in the Sky. '"

"Yes? Well, if later we have the good, chance to find, in our _vieuxcarré_, we and our _cotérie_, and Ovide, some more stories, trueromances, we'll maybe try again; but till then--ah, no. "

Mrs. Chester touched the girl caressingly. "My dear, you will! Everyhouse looks as if it could tell at least one, including that largehouse and garden just over the way. "

"Ah, " chanted Mlle. Yvonne, "how many time' Corinne and me, we want' tolive there and furnizh, ourseff, that romanz'!"

The five rose. Mrs. Chester "would be delighted to have the threeChapdelaines call. I'm leaving the hotel, you know; I've taken a roomnext Geoffry's. But that's nearer you, is it not?"

"A li'l', yes, " the sisters replied, but Aline's smiling silence said:"No, a little farther off. "

The aunts thanked Mme. De l'Isle for bringing Mrs. Chester and kissedher cheeks. They walked beside her to the gate, led by Cupid with thekey, and by Marie Madeleine crooking the end of her tail like afloor-walker's finger. Mrs. Chester and Aline came last. The sistersventured out to the sidewalk to finish an apology for a significantfault in Marie Madeleine's figure, and Mrs. Chester and Aline foundthemselves alone. 

"Au revoir, " they said, clasping hands. Cupid, under a suddeninspiration, half-closed the gate, the pair stood an eloquent momentgazing eye to eye, and then----

What happened the mother told her son that evening as they sat alone ona moonlit veranda. 

"Mother!"

"Yes, " she said, "and on the lips. "

XLIX

Beginning at dawn, an all-day rain rested the travel-wearied lady. Butthe night cleared and in the forenoon that followed she shopped--forthings, she wrote her husband, not to be found elsewhere in theforty-eight States. 

The afternoon she gave to two or three callers, notably to Mrs. Thorndyke-Smith, who was very pleasing every way, but in nothing morethan in her praises of the Royal Street coterie. Next morning, in ahired car, she had Castanado and Mme. Dubroca, Beloiseau and Mme. Alexandre, not merely show but, as the ironworker said, pinchingforefinger and thumb together in the air, "elucidate" to her, forhours, the _vieux carré_. The day's latter half brought Mlles. Corinneand Yvonne; but Aline--no. 

"She was coming till the laz' moment, " the pair said, "and then she'sso bewzy she 'ave to sen' us word, by 'Ector, 'tis impossib' tocome--till maybe later. Go h-on, juz' we two. "

They sat and talked, and rose and talked, and--sweetlyimportuned--resumed seats and talked, of infant days and the old NewOrleans they loved so well, unembarrassed by a maze of innocentanachronisms, and growingly sure that Aline would come. 

When at sunset they took leave Mrs. Chester, to their delight, followedto the sidewalk, drifted on by a corner or two, and even turned upRampart Street, though without saying that it was by Rampart Street herson daily came--walked--from his office. It had two paved ways forgeneral traffic, with a broad space between, where once, the sistersexplained, had been the rampart's moat but now ran the electric cars!"You know what that is, rampart? Tha'z in the 'Star-Spangle' Banner'ab-oud that. And this high wall where we're passing, tha'z theCarmelite convent, and--ah! ad the last! Aline! Aline!" Also therewas Cupid. 

The four encountered gayly. "Ah, not this time, " Aline said. "I cameonly to meet my aunts; they had locked the gate! But I _will_ call, very soon. "

They walked up to the next corner, the sisters confusingly instructingMrs. Chester how to take a returning street-car. Leaving them, she hadjust got safely across from sidewalk to car-track when Cupid camepattering after, to bid her hail only the car marked "Esplanade Belt. "

As he backed off--"Take care!" was the cry, but he sprang the wrong wayand a hurrying jitney cast him yards distant, where he lay unconsciousand bleeding. The packed street-car emptied. 

"No, he's alive, " said one who lifted him, to the two jitneypassengers, who pushed into the throng. "Arm broke', yes, but he'shurt worst in the head. "

There was an apothecary's shop in sight. They put him and the fourladies into the jitney and sent them there, and the world moved on. 

At the shop he came to, and presently, in the jitney again, he wasblissfully aware of Geoffry Chester on the swift running-board, questioning his mother and Aline by turns. He listened with all hismight. Neither the child nor his mistress had seen or heard thequestioner since the afternoon he was locked out of the garden. 

Nearing that garden now, questions and answers suddenly ceased; thechild had spoken. Limp and motionless, with his head on Aline's bosomand his eyes closed, "Don't let, " he brokenly said, "don't let _him_ go'way. "

To him the answer seemed so long coming that he began to repeat; thenAline said----

"No, dear, he shan't leave you. "

The sisters had telephoned their own physician from the apothecary'sshop, and soon, with Cupid on his cot, pushed close to a cool windowlooking into the rear garden, and the garden lighted by an unseen moon, Mrs. Chester, at the cot's side awaited the doctor's arrival. Therestless sisters brought her a tray of rusks and butter and tea, thoughthey would not, could not, taste anything themselves until they shouldknow how gravely the small sufferer--for now he began to suffer--washurt. 

"Same time tha'z good to be induztriouz"--this was all said directlyabove the moaning child--"while tha'z bad, for the sick, to talk ad thebedside, and we can't stay with you and not talk, and we can't go inthat front yard; that gate is let open so the doctor he needn' ring andthat way excide the patient; and we can't go in the back garden"--theyspread their hands and dropped them; the back garden was hopelesslypre-empted. 

They went to a parlor window and sat looking and longing for the frontgate to swing. They had posted on it in Corinne's minute writing: "Noadmittance excep on business. Open on account sickness. S. V. P. Don't wring the belle!!!"

Cupid lay very flat on his back, his face turned to the open window. He had ceased to moan. When Mrs. Chester stole to where, by leaningover, she could see his eyes they were closed. She hoped he slept, butsat down in uncertainty rather than risk waking him. In the moonlitgarden Aline and Geoffry paced to and fro. To see them his motherwould have to stand and lean over the cot, and neither good mothers norgood nurses do that. She kept her seat, anxiously hoping that themoonlight out there would remain soft enough to veil the worn lookwhich daylight betrayed on her son's face whenever he fell into silence. 

The talk of the pair was labored. Once they went clear to the bowerand turned, without a word. Then Geoffry said: "I know a story I'dlike to tell you, though how it would help us in our project--if we nowhave a project at all--I don't see. "

"'Tis of the _vieux carré_, that story?"

"It's of the _vieux carré_ of the world's heart. "

"I think I know it. "

"May I not tell it?"

"Yes, you may tell it--although--yes, tell it. "

"Well, there was once a beautiful girl, as beautiful in soul as incountenance, and worshipped by a few excellent friends, few onlybecause of conditions in her life that almost wholly exiled her fromsociety. Even so, she had suitors--good, gallant men; not of wealth, yet with good prospects and with gifts more essential. But otherconditions seemed, to her, to forbid marriage. "

"Yes, " Aline interrupted. "Mr. Chester, have you gone in partnershipwith Mr. Castanado--'Masques et Costumes'? Or would it not be maybebetter honor to me--and yourself--to speak----"

"Straight out? Yes, of course. Aline, I've been racking my brain--Istill am--and my heart--to divine what it is that separates us. I hadcome to believe you loved me. I can't quite stifle the conviction yet. I believe that in refusing me you're consciously refusing that whichseems to you yourself a worthy source of supreme happiness if it didnot threaten the happiness of others dearer than your own. "

"Of my aunts, you think?"

"Yes, your aunts. "

"Mr. Chester, even if I had no aunts----"

"Yes, I see. That's my new discovery: you've already had my assurancethat I'd study their happiness as I would yours, ours, mine; but youthink I could never make your aunts and myself happy in the sameatmosphere. You believe in me. You believe I have a future that mustcarry me--would carry us--into a world your aunts don't know and couldnever learn. "

"'Tis true. And yet even if my aunts----"

"Had no existence--yes, I know. I know what you think would stillremain. You can't hint it, for you think I would promptly promise theimpossible, as lovers so easily do. Aline, I would not! 'Twouldn't beimpossible. It shall not be. My mother is helping to prove that evento you, isn't she--without knowing it? I promise you as if it were inthe marriage contract and we were here signing it, that if you will bemy wife I never will, and you never shall, let go, or in any way relax, your hold--or mine--on the intimate friendship of the coterie in RoyalStreet. They are your inheritance from your father and his father, andI love you the more adoringly because you would sooner break your ownheart than forfeit that legacy. " He took one of her hands. "You aretheir 'Clock in the Sky'; you're their 'Angel of the Lord. ' And so youshall be till death do you part. " He took the other hand, held both. 

Cupid turned his face from the window and audibly sobbed. 

"Oh, child, what is it? Does it pain so?"

He shook his head. 

"Doesn't it pain? Is it not pain at all? Why, then, what is it?"

"Joy, " he whispered as the doctor came in. 

L

The child's hurts were not so grave, after all. 

"He may sit up to-morrow, " the doctor said. The fractured arm was putinto a splint and sling, and a collar-bone had to be wrapped in place;but the absorbent cotton bandaged on his head was only for contusions. 

"Corinne!" Mlle. Yvonne gasped, "contusion"! Ah, doctor, I 'ope tha'zsomething you can't 'ave but once!"

"You can't in fatal cases. Mrs. --eh--those scissors, please? Thankyou. "

"Well, Aline, praise be to heaven, any'ow his skull, from ear to ear'tis solid! Ah, I mean, of co'se, roun' the h-outside. Inside 'tishollow. But outside it has not a crack! eh, doctor?"

"Except the sutures he was born with. Now, my little man----"

"Ah, ah, Corinne! Born with shuture'! and we never suzpeg' that!"

"Ah, but, Yvonne, if he's had those sinz' that long they cann' be sovery fatal, no!"

Partly for the little boy's sake three days were let pass before Alinemade her announcement. There was but one place for it--the Castanados'parlor. All the coterie were there--the De l'Isles, even Ovide--butler_pro tem_. 

"You will have refreshments, " he said, with happiest equanimity; "Iwill serve them"; and the whole race problem vanished. Mélanie too waspresent, with an announcement of her own which won ecstatic kisses, many of them tear-moistened but all of them glad. As for Mme. Alexandre and Beloiseau, they announced nothing, but every one knew, and said so in the smiling fervency of their hand-grasps. 

All of which made the evening too hopelessly old-fashioned to be dwelton, though one point cannot be overlooked. It was the lastproclamation of the joyous hour, and was Chester's. He had bought--onwonderfully easy terms--_vieux carré_ terms--the large house andgrounds opposite the Chapdelaine cottage, and there the aunts were todwell with the young pair. 

"Permanently?"

"Ah, only whiles we live!"

The coterie adjourned. 

Already the sisters had begun to move in. Mrs. Chester helped them"marvellouzly. " Also Aline. Also Cupid--that was now his only name. The cat really couldn't; she was too preoccupied. The sisters touchedMrs. Chester's arm and drew a curtain. 

"Look! . . . Eight! Ah, thou unfaithful, if we had ever think you aregoing to so forget yo'seff like that, we woul'n' never name you MarieMadeleine! And still ad the same time you know, Mrs. Chezter, we aresure she's trying to tell us, right now, that this going to be the laz'time!"

"And me, " Yvonne added, "I feel sure any'ow that, as the poet say--I'mprittie sure 'tis the poet say that--she's mo' sin' ag-ainz' thansinning. "

At length one evening so many relics of the Chapdelaine infancy hadbeen gathered in the new home that the sisters went over there to passthe night, and took puss and her offspring along. But not a wink dideither of them sleep the night through, and the first living creaturethey espied the next morning was Marie Madeleine, with a kitten in herteeth, moving back. 

"Aline, " they sobbed as soon as they could find her, "we are sorry, sorry, sorry, to make you such unhappinezz like that, and so soon;continue, you and Geoffry, to live in that new 'ouse; but whiles welive any plaze but heaven we got to live in that home of our in-fancy. "