Chapter 11

"Mr. Beloiseau," said Chester, "has a beautiful commission from the new Pan-American Steamship Company."

"Thanks to Mr. Chezter," said Beloiseau, "who got me the job. Hence for this book spot cash." He turned aside to a locked closet and drawer.

"You had a pleasant holiday yesterday," said Landry to Chester.

"Who told you?"

"Mesdemoiselles, the two sisters Chapdelaine. I chanced to meet them just 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 a frown: "Did they reflect the pleasure of the holiday?"

"Mr. Chester, no." There was an exchange of gazes, but Scipion returned, counting and tendering the price of the book.

"Well, good evening," Landry said, willing to linger; but "good evening," said both the others.

Chester turned: "Beloiseau, I want to talk with you. Go, give yourself a dip, brush some of that hair, and we'll dine alone in some place away from things."

"A dip, hah! Always I scrub me any'ow till I come to the skin. Also I'll put a clean shirt. You can wait? I'll leave you this book."

Chester waited. When presently, with Scipion still picturesque though clean-shirted, they left the shop together, he gave the book a word of praise that set its owner off on the history of his craft. "But hammered 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, my father's work." They turned back.

Thus they lost a second train, and dined in the same snug nook as on the day before with Aline and the rest. At twilight they took seats in Jackson Square on a cast-iron bench "hardly worthy of the place," as Chester suggested.

And Scipion flashed back: "Or, my dear sir, of any worthy place! But you 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 the cause of their going."

"Ah, of three she is, but of my son, no. My son he was already there when that war commence', and the cause of that was a very simple and or-_din_-ary in him, but not in the story of my father. I would like to tell you ab-out that biccause tha'z also ab-out that house where we was juz' seeing all that open-work on those balconie', and biccause so interested, you, in old building', you are bound to hear ab-out that some 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 and high. They are no Creole brick it is make with, that old house."

Chester began to speak approvingly of the wide balconies running unbrokenly around its four sides at both upper stories, but Beloiseau shook his head: "They don't billong to the firz' building of that house, else they _might_ have been Spanish, like here on the Cabildo and that old _Café Veau-qui-tête_. They would not be cast iron and of that complicate' disign, hah! But they are not even a French cast iron, like those and those"--he waved right and left to the wide balconies of the Pontalba buildings flanking the square with such graceful dignity. "Oh, they make that old house look pretty good, those balconie', but tha'z a pity they were not wrought iron, biccause M. Lefevre--he was rich--sugar-planter--could have what he choose, and she was a very fashionable, his ladie. They tell some strange stories ab-out them and that 'ouse; cruelty to slave', intrigue with slave', duel' ab-out slave'. Maybe tha'z biccause those iron bar' up and down in sidewalk window', old Spanish fashion; maybe biccause in confusion with that Haunted House in Royal Street, they are so allike, those two house'. But they are cock-an'-bull, those tale'. Wha's true they don't tell, biccause they don' know, and tha'z what I'm telling you ad the 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, turn ab-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, and knowing that once in a while, those time, that whitenezz coul'n' be av-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. Some people said: 'Tha'z biccause she's so young; when she's grow' up you'll see. And some say, 'When she get chil'ren they'll show it, those chil'ren--an' some be even dark!'

"Any'ow some said she's child of monsieur, and madame want to keep her out of sight that beneficent way. They would bet you any money if you go on his plantation you find her slave mother by the likenezz. She di'n' look like him but they insist' that also come later. Any'ow she's rent' half-an'-half by those _grand-mère_' of Castanado and Dubroca, at the firzt just to call 'shop'! at back door when a cuztomer come 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 all that coterie there in Royal Street. Excep' my father; he was fo'teen year' to her seven."

"Was she a handsome child?" Chester ventured.

"I think no. But in growing up she bic-came"--the craftsman handed out a pocket flash-light and an old _carte-de-visite_ photograph of a black-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 that with a finger."

"Well, then, I say yes, she's handsome, trusting you not to gild my plain words with your imagination. She's handsome, but in a way easily overlooked; a way altogether apart from the charms of color and texture, I judge, or of any play of feeling; not floral, not startling, not exquisite; but _statuesque_, almost heavily so, and replete with the virtues of character."

"Well," said Beloiseau, putting away the picture, "sixteen year' she rimain' rent' to mesdames that way, and come to look lag that. And all of our parent'--gran'parent'--living that simple life like you see us, their descendant', now, she biccame like one of those familie'--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 her name--'would be satisfi' to marry a nize black man like Ovide, who would 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 only arrengement she'll make with him; she's too piouz for any other arrengement, while same time me I'm too piouz to let her _marry_ a white man; my faith, that would be a crime! And also she coul'n' never be 'appy that way; she's too good and high-mind' to be marrie' to any white man wha'z willin' to marry a nigger.'

"So, then, it come to be said in all those card-club' that my father he's try to buy Fortune so to marry her. An' by that he had a quarrel with one of those young Lefevre', who said pretty much like his mother, only in another manner, pretty insulting. And, same old story, they fought, 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' long time, and biccause all those shop' got to be keep she nurse' him more than 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 they say: 'To go at Connect-icut, or Kanzaz, or Californie, tha'z no ril-ief; you muz' go at France and Spain, wherever 'tis good to study the iron-work, whiles we are hoping there will be a renaissance in that art and that businezz; and same time only the good God know' what he can cause to happen to lead a child of the faith out of trouble and sorrow.'

"So my father he went, and by reason of that he di'n' have to settle that 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' run away to ezcape that war; he di'n' know 'twas going to be, and he came back in the mi'l' of it, whiles the city was in the han' of that Union army. Also what cause him to rit-urn was not that war. 'Twas one of those 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 in a village in Alsace, and there he saw some chil'ren, playing in the street. And he was very thirzty, from long time walking, and he request' 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 to drink. Then she look' up--she had only about seven year', and my father he look' down, and he juz' drop that cup by his feet that it broke--the handle. And when she cry, and he talk' with her and say don' cry, he can make a cem-ent juz' at her own house to mend that to a perfegtion, he was astonizh' at her voice as much as her face. And when he ask her name and she tell him, her firz' name, and say tha'z the name of her _grand'-mère_, he's am-aze'! But when he see her mother 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 and sticking that handle he look' two-three time' into the front of the hair of that li'l' girl, till the mother she get agitate', and she h-ask him: 'What you're looking? Who told you to look for something there? _Ma foi_! you're looking for the _pompon gris_ of my mother and grandmother! You'll not fine it there. Tha'z biccause she's so young; when she's grow' up you'll see; but'--she part' as-ide her own hair in front and he see', my father, under the black a li'l' patch of gray, and he juz' say, '_Mon dieu_!' while she egsclaim'--

"'If you know anybody's got that _pompon_ in Louisiana, age of me, or elze, 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 that li'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 the origin-al of that also is name' Fortune, like that child an' her mother, and been from in-fancy a slave, they had to cry, all of them together. And then they tell my father all ab-out those two sizter', how they get marrie' in that village with two young men, cousin' to each other, and how one pair, a year avter, emigrate' to Louisiana with li'l' baby name' Fortune, and--once mo' that old story--they are bound to the captain of the ship for the prise of the passage till somebody in Ammerica rid-eem them and they are bound to him to work that out. And coming accrozz, the father--ship-fever--die', and arriving, the passage is pay by the devil know' who'.

"Then my father he tell them that chile muz' be orpheline at two-three year', biccause while seeming so white she never think she wasn' black.

"And so my father, coming ad that village the moz' unhappy in the worl', he went away negs day the moz' happy. And he took with him some photo' showing that mother and chile with the mother's hair comb' to egspose that _pompon gris_; and also he took copy from those record' of babtism of the babtism of that li'l' Fortune, _émigré_.

"Same time, here at home, _our_ Fortune she was so sick with something the doctor he coul'n' make out the nature, and she coul'n' eat till they're af-raid she'll die. And one day the doctor bring her father confessor, there where she's in bed, and break that gently that my father 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 of bed; secon' she's dress--and laughing!--and eating! And every day my father he's paying his intention', and Mme. Lefevre she's rij-oice, biccause that riproach is pass' from monsieur her 'usband and pritty quick they are marrie', and tha'z my mother."

After a reverent silence Chester spoke: "And lived long and happily together?"

"Yes, a long, beautiful life. Maybe that life woul'n' be of a diztinction sufficient to you, but to them, yes. They are gone but since lately."

"And that Lefevre house?"

"Ah, you know! Full of Italian'--ten-twelve familie', with washing on street veranda eight day ev'ry week. _Pauvre vieux carré_!"

XLII

MÉLANIE

"I suppose," Chester said, breaking another silence, "you and that mother, and your father, have sat in the flowery sunshine of this old plaza together----"

"A thousan' time'," the ironworker replied, mused a bit, and added: "My frien', you are a so patient listener as I never see. Biccause I know you are all that time waiting for a differen' story. And now--I shall tell 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 'ave brother' 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 take great trouble in educating me to sugceed him in his businezz, and so I did, like you see. And the same with Dubroca and with Castanado--Ducatel he's different he's come into that antique businezz by his mizfortune and he's--oh, he's all right only he's not of the same inspiration to be of that 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 a very amiable daughter; and, laz', not leazt, you know, those Chapdelaine'----"

"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 one square of Royal; but presently, it break out like an épidémique, ammongs' our chil'ren, to marry juz' accrozz and accrozz the street; a Beloiseau to a Castanado, a Castanado to a Dubroca, and so forth--even fifth!" The speaker smiled benignly. "Hah! many year' they work' my geniuz hard to make iron candlestick'--orig-in-al diz-ign--for wedding-present'. The moze of them, they marrie' without any romanze, egcep' what cann' be av-oid', inside the heart, when both partie' are young, and in love together, and not rich neither deztitute. But year biffo' laz' we have the romanze of that daughter of Mme. Alexandre and son of De l'Isle and son 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' in that book of Mlle. Aline--but of co'se by changing those name', and by preten'ing that happen' at Hong Kong, or Chicago, or Bogota. Presently 'tis too short, but you can easy mazk and coztume that in a splendid rhétorique till it's plenty long enough."

"H'mm!" said Chester, wondering at the artisan's artlessness off his beaten track. "Go on."

"Well, she's not beautyful, Mélanie; same time she's not bad-looking and she's kindess of the kind, and whoever she love'--her mother, for example--and Mlle. Aline--tha'z pretty touching, to see with what an inten-_city_ she love'.

"Now, what I tell you, tha'z a very sicret bitwin you and me. Biccause even 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 from Mlle. Aline, and none of them know that I know egcep' those Castanado'.

"Well! sinze chilehood those three--Mélanie, De l'Isle, Dubroca,--they are playmate' together, and Dubroca he's always call' Mélanie his swit-heart. But De l'Isle, no. Always biffo', those De l'Isle they are of the, eh, the _beau monde_ and though li'l' by li'l' losing their fortune, keeping their frien', some of them rich, yet still ad the same time 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 go each 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 to assist 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 his father, 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 those manner' and cuztom' of society. And then that young Dubroca biggen very plain to pay his intention' to Mélanie, and we are all pretty glad to notiz that, biccause whiles he don't got that dash of De l'Isle, he's modess, yet still brave to a perfegtion; and he's square and got plenty sense, and he's steady and he's kind. Every way they are suit' to each other 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. And bisside', 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 every egscuse 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 to Mélanie 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, he behave the perfec' gen'leman, and still tha'z one reason she get that li'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, he persevere' to hang on. And tha'z the miztake they both did, him and Mélanie, in doing that American way, keeping that to themselve' instead of--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 at matinée with him and Dubroca. And when mademoiselle bigin to make egscuse' Mélanie implore' her to go, biccause Mme. Alexandre say no Creole girl cann' go juz' with one man, or even with two. 'And mamma she's right,' Mélanie say--with tear',--'even in that Am'erican way they got a limit, and same time I'm perishing to go!'

"And when mademoiselle hear' what that play is ab-out she consent' at the lazt to go. Biccause tha'z ab-out a girl what billieve' a man's in love to 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 to every girl, to make thing' pleasant, you know?

"And that play turn out a so egcellent that many people, paying admission ad the door, find they got to pay ag-ain, secon' time, ad their seat, in tear' that they weep; and that make it not so hard for Mélanie, who weep ab-out ten price'. Negs day, Sunday, avter church and dinner, she come yonder ad the home of mademoiselle, you know, Bourbon Street, and sit with her in the gol'fish bower of that li'l' garden behine. And she's very much bow' down. And she h-ask mademoiselle if she ain't notiz sinz long time how De l'Isle is paying intention to her, Mélanie. But mademoiselle di'n' have to be embarrazz' what to answer, biccause Mélanie she's so rattle' she don't wait to hear. And Mélanie she say tha'z one cause that she was wanting De l'Isle to see that play; biccause sinz lately she's notiz he's make himseff very complimentary also to mademoiselle, and she, Mélanie, she want' him to notiz how that way he's in danger to make mizunderstanding and diztress to himseff and--all concern'.

"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 frezh spoken and what she billieve' are proof that he's in love to her and inten' to make his proposition so soon he's got good sign' he'll be accept'. 'But I ain't never give' him sign,' she say, 'biccause a girl she cann' never be too careful. And so I think I'm bound to show that to you, biccause I muz'n' be careful only for myseff, and if he's say such thing' 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 her those same kind of sentimental plaisanteries; rosebud' to pin on the heart _outside_, a few minute', till the negs cavalier. Castanado, she say, Beloiseau, they do the same--even more. 'Ah!' Mélanie say, 'but only 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 in her 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 Mélanie she's compel' to confezz that, not with word', but juz' with the fore-head on the knee of mademoiselle and crying like babie. And she say she's sin'. And yet same time while she h-ask' mademoiselle to pray the good God and the mother of God to forgive that sin, she h-ask her to pray also that they'll make De l'Isle to love her.

"Biccause, she say, 'tis those unfortunate rosebud' of sentimental plaisanterie he give her what firz' make her to love him. And mademoiselle she ag-ree' to that if Mélanie she'll tell that whole story also to her mother; biccause mademoiselle she see what a hole that put them both in, her and Mélanie, when she, mademoiselle, is bound to know he's paying, De l'Isle, all his real intention' to herseff. And Mélanie she'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', she say tell not Mme. Alexandre but Mme. Castanado, even when mademoiselle say if Mme. Castanado then also monsieur; biccause madame she'll certainly make that condition, and biccause monsieur he can assist her to commenze that whole businezz over, French way. And same time Mélanie she take 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. Biccause madame she cann' skip ar-ound pretty light, you know, and biccause they think my, eh--pull--with those De l'Isle' is the moze of anybody, and biccause 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 heart on Mlle. Aline. Also tha'z to egsplain me why Mlle. Aline say if all those intention' to her don't finizh righd there, she got to stop coming ad Mme. Alexandre. And of co'se! You see that, I su'pose?"

"And where was young Dubroca in all this?"