Part 24

--"O Maximilien!--_Bon-Dié ka ouè toutt, ha connaitt toutt_" (He sees all; He knows all), cried Stéphane.

--"_Y pa pè ouè non pièss atouèlement, moin ben sur!_" (He cannot see us at all now,--I am quite sure) irreverently responded Maximilien....

--"Thou thinkest the Bon-Dié like thyself!--He has not eyes like thou," protested Stéphane. "_Li pas ka tiny coulé; li pas ka tini zié_" (He has not color; He has not eyes), continued the boy, repeating the text of his catechism,--the curious creole catechism of old Perè Goux, of Carbet. [Quaint priest and quaint catechism have both passed away.]

--"_Moin pa save si li pa ka tini coulè_" (I know not if He has not color), answered Maximilien. "But what I well know is that if He has not eyes. He cannot see.... _Fouinq!_--how idiot!"

--"Why, it is in the Catechism," cried Stéphane.... "'_Bon-Dié, li conm vent: vent tout-patout, et nou pa save ouè li;--li ka touché nou,--li ka boulvésé lamnè._" (The Good-God is like the Wind: the Wind is everywhere, and we cannot see It;--It touches us,--It tosses the sea.)

--"If the Bon-Dié is the Wind," responded Maximilien, "then pray thou the Wind to stay quiet."

--"The Bon-Dié is not the Wind," cried Stéphane: "He is like the Wind, but He is not the Wind."...

--"_Ah! soc-soc!--fouinq!_... More better past praying to care we be not upset again and eaten by sharks."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

... Whether the little chabin prayed either to the Wind or to the Bon-Dié, I do not know. But the Wind remained very quiet all that night,--seemed to hold its breath for fear of ruffling the sea. And in the Mouillage of St. Pierre furious American captains swore at the Wind because it would not fill their sails.

V

Perhaps, if there had been a breeze, neither Stéphane nor Maximilien would have seen the sun again. But they saw him rise.

Light pearled in the east, over the edge of the ocean, ran around the rim of the sky and yellowed: then the sun's brow appeared;--a current of gold gushed rippling across the sea before him;--and all the heaven at once caught blue fire from horizon to zenith. Violet from flood to cloud the vast recumbent form of Pelée loomed far behind,--with long reaches of mountaining: pale grays o'ertopping misty blues. And in the north another lofty shape was towering,--strangely jagged and peaked and beautiful,--the silhouette of Dominica: a sapphire saw!... No wandering clouds:--over far Pelée only a shadowy piling of nimbi.... Under them the sea swayed dark as purple ink--a token of tremendous depth.... Still a dead calm, and no sail in sight.

--"_Ça c'est la Dominique_," said Maximilien,--"_Ennou pou ouivage-à!_"

They had lost their little palettes during the night;--they used their naked hands, and moved swiftly. But Dominica was many and many a mile away. Which was the nearer island, it was yet difficult to say;--in the morning sea-haze, both were vapory,--difference of color was largely due to position....

_Sough!--sough!--sough!_--A bird with a white breast passed overhead; and they stopped paddling to look at it,--a gull. Sign of fair weather!--it was making for Dominica.

--"_Moin ni ben faim_," murmured Maximilien. Neither had eaten since the morning of the previous day,--most of which they had passed sitting in their canoe.

--"_Moin ni anni soif_," said Stéphane. And besides his thirst he complained of a burning pain in his head, always growing worse. He still coughed, and spat out pink threads after each burst of coughing.

The heightening sun flamed whiter and whiter: the flashing of waters before his face began to dazzle like a play of lightning.... Now the islands began to show sharper lines, stronger colors; and Dominica was evidently the nearer;--for bright streaks of green were breaking at various angles through its vapor-colored silhouette, and Martinique still remained all blue.

... Hotter and hotter the sun burned; more and more blinding became his reverberation. Maximilien's black skin suffered least; but both lads, accustomed as they were to remaining naked in the sun, found the heat difficult to bear. They would gladly have plunged into the deep water to cool themselves, but for fear of sharks;--all they could do was to moisten their heads, and rinse their mouths with sea-water.

Each from his end of the canoe continually watched the horizon. Neither hoped for a sail, there was no wind; but they looked for the coining of steamers,--the _Orinoco_ might pass, or the English packet, or some one of the small Martinique steamboats might be sent out to find them.

Yet hours went by; and there still appeared no smoke in the ring of the sky,--never a sign in all the round of the sea, broken only by the two huge silhouettes.... But Dominica was certainly nearing;--the green lights were spreading through the luminous blue of her hills.

... Their long immobility in the squatting posture began to tell upon the endurance of both boys,--producing dull throbbing aches in thighs, hips, and loins.... Then, about mid-day, Stéphane declared he could not paddle any more;--it seemed to him as if his head must soon burst open with the pain which filled it: even the sound of his own voice hurt him,--he did not want to talk.

VI

... And another oppression came upon them,--in spite of all the pains, and the blinding dazzle of waters, and the biting of the sun: the oppression of drowsiness. They began to doze at intervals,--keeping their canoe balanced in some automatic way,--as cavalry soldiers, overweary, ride asleep in the saddle.

But at last, Stéphane, awaking suddenly with a paroxysm of coughing, so swayed himself to one side as to overturn the canoe; and both found themselves in the sea.

Maximilien righted the craft, and got in again; but the little chabin twice fell back in trying to raise himself upon his arms. He had become almost helplessly feeble. Maximilien, attempting to aid him, again overturned the unsteady little boat; and this time it required all his skill and his utmost strength to get Stéphane out of the water. Evidently Stéphane could be of no more assistance;--the boy was so weak he could not even sit up straight.

--"_Aïe! ou kê jété nou encò_," panted Maximilien,--"_metté ou toutt longue._"

Stéphane slowly let himself down, so as to lie nearly all his length in the canoe,--one foot on either side of Maximilien's hips. Then he lay very still for a long time,--so still that Maximilien became uneasy.

--"_Ou ben malade?_" he asked.... Stéphane did not seem to hear: his eyes remained closed.

--"Stéphane!" cried Maximilien, in alarm,--"Stéphane!"

--"_C'est lò, papoute_," murmured Stéphane, without lifting his eyelids,--"_ça c'est lò!--ou pa janmain cuè yon bel pièce conm ça?_" (It is gold, little father.... Didst thou ever see a pretty piece like that?... No, thou wilt not beat me, little father?--no, _papoute!_)

--"_Ou ka dòmi, Stéphane?_"--queried Maximilien, wondering,--"art asleep?"

But Stéphane opened his eyes and looked at him so strangely! Never had he seen Stéphane look that way before.

--"_Ça ou ni, Stéphane?_--what ails thee?--_aïe! Bon-Dié, Bon-Dié?_"

--"_Bon-Dié!_"--muttered Stéphane, closing his eyes again at the sound of the great Name,--"He has no color;--He is like the Wind."...

--"Stéphane!"...

--"He feels in the dark;--He has not eyes."...

--"_Stéphane, pa pàlé ça!_"

--"He tosses the sea.... He has no face;--He lifts up the dead... and the leaves."...

--"_Ou fou!_" cried Maximilien, bursting into a wild fit of sobbing,--"Stéphane, thou art mad!"

And all at once he became afraid of Stéphane,--afraid of all he said,--afraid of his touch,--afraid of his eyes... he was growing like a _zombi!_

But Stéphane's eyes remained closed;--he ceased to speak.

... About them deepened the enormous silence of the sea;--low swung the sun again. The horizon was yellowing: day had begun to fade. Tall Dominica was now half green; but there yet appeared no smoke, no sail, no sign of life.

And the tints of the two vast Shapes that shattered the rim of the light shifted as if evanescing,--shifted like tones of West Indian fishes,--of _pisquette_ and _congre_,--of _caringue_ and _gouôs-zié_ and _balaou._ Lower sank the sun;--cloud-fleeces of orange pushed up over the edge of the west;--a thin warm breath caressed the sea,--sent long lilac shudderings over the flanks of the swells. Then colors changed again: violet richened to purple;--greens blackened softly;--grays smouldered into smoky gold.

And the sun went down.

VII

And they floated into the fear of the night together. Again the ghostly fires began to wimple about them: naught else was visible but the high stars.

Black hours passed. From minute to minute Maximilien cried out:--"_Sucou! sucou!_" Stéphane lay motionless and dumb: his feet, touching Maximilien's naked hips, felt singularly cold.

... Something knocked suddenly against the bottom of the canoe,--knocked heavily--making a hollow loud sound. It was not Stéphane;--Stéphane lay still as a stone: it was from the depth below. Perhaps a great fish passing.

It came again,--twice,--shaking the canoe like a great blow. Then Stéphane suddenly moved,--drew up his feet a little,--made as if to speak:--"_Ou_..."; but the speech failed at his lips,--ending in a sound like the moan of one trying to call out in sleep;--and Maximilien's heart almost stopped beating.... Then Stéphane's limbs straightened again; he made no more movement;--Maximilien could not even hear him breathe.... All the sea had begun to whisper.

A breeze was rising;--Maximilien felt it blowing upon him. All at once it seemed to him that he had ceased to be afraid,--that he did not care what might happen. He thought about a cricket he had one day watched in the harbor,--drifting out with the tide, on an atom of dead bark,--and he wondered what had become of it. Then he understood that he himself was the cricket,--still alive. But some boy had found him and pulled off his legs. There they were,--his own legs, pressing against him: he could still feel the aching where they had been pulled off; and they had been dead so long they were now quite cold.... It was certainly Stéphane who had pulled them off....

The water was talking to him. It was saying the same thing over and over again,--louder each time, as if it thought he could not hear. But he heard it very well:--"_Bon-Dié, li conm vent... li ka touché nou... nou pa save ouè li._" (But why had the Bon-Dié shaken the wind?) "_Li pa ka tint zié_," answered the water.... _Ouille!_--He might all the same care not to upset folks in the sea!... _Mi!_...

But even as he thought these things, Maximilien became aware that a white, strange, bearded face was looking at him: the Bon-Dié was there,--bending over him with a lantern,--talking to him in a language he did not understand. And the Bon-Dié certainly had eyes,--great gray eyes that did not look wicked at all. He tried to tell the Bon-Dié how sorry he was for what he had been saying about him;--but found he could not utter a word. He felt great hands lift him up to the stars, and lay him down very near them,--just under them. They burned blue-white, and hurt his eyes like lightning:--he felt afraid of them.... About him he heard voices,--always speaking the same language, which he could not understand.... "_Poor little devils!--poor little devils!_" Then he heard a bell ring; and the Bon-Dié made him swallow something nice and warm;--and everything became black again. The stars went out!...

... Maximilien was lying under an electric-light on board the great steamer _Rio de Janeiro_, and dead Stéphane beside him.... It was four o'clock in the morning.

LA FILLE DE COULEUR

I

Nothing else in the picturesque life of the French colonies of the Occident impresses the traveller on his first arrival more than the costumes of the women of color. They surprise the aesthetic sense agreeably;--they are local and special: you will see nothing resembling them among the populations of the British West Indies; they belong to Martinique, Guadeloupe, Désirade, Marie-Galante, and Cayenne,--in each place differing sufficiently to make the difference interesting, especially in regard to the head-dress. That of Martinique is quite Oriental;--more attractive, although less fantastic than the Cayenne coiffure, or the pretty drooping mouchoir of Guadeloupe.

These costumes are gradually disappearing, for various reasons,--the chief reason being of course the changes in the social condition of the colonies during the last forty years. Probably the question of health had also something to do with the almost universal abandonment in Martinique of the primitive slave dress,--_chemise_ and _jupe_,--which exposed its wearer to serious risks of pneumonia; for as far as economical reasons are concerned, there was no fault to find with it: six francs could purchase it when money was worth more than it is now. The douillette, a long trailing dress, one piece from neck to feet, has taken its place.[37] But there was a luxurious variety of the jupe costume which is disappearing because of its cost; there is no money in the colonies now for such display:--I refer to the celebrated attire of the pet slaves and _belles affranchies_ of the old colonial days. A full costume,--including violet or crimson "petticoat" of silk or satin; chemise with half-sleeves, and much embroidery and lace; "trembling-pins" of gold (_zépingue tremblant_) to attach the folds of the brilliant Madras turban; the great necklace of three or four strings of gold beads bigger than peas (_collier-choux_); the ear-rings, immense but light as egg-shells (_zanneaux-à-clous_ or _zanneaux-chenilles_); the bracelets (_portes-bonheur_); the studs (_boutons-à-clous_); the brooches, not only for the turban, but for the chemise, below the folds of the showy silken foulard or shoulder-scarf,--would sometimes represent over five thousand francs expenditure. This gorgeous attire is becoming less visible every year: it is now rarely worn except on very solemn occasions,--weddings, baptisms, first communions, confirmations. The _da_ (nurse) or "porteuse-de-baptême" who bears the baby to church holds it at the baptismal font, and afterwards carries it from house to house in order that all the friends of the family may kiss it, is thus attired; but nowadays, unless she be a professional (for there are professional _das_, hired only for such occasions), she usually borrows the jewellry. If tall, young, graceful, with a rich gold tone of skin, the effect of her costume is dazzling as that of a Byzantine Virgin. I saw one young da who, thus garbed, scarcely seemed of the earth and earthly;--there was an Oriental something in her appearance difficult to describe,--something that made you think of the Queen of Sheba going to visit Solomon. She had brought a merchant's baby, just christened, to receive the caresses of the family at whose house I was visiting; and when it came to my turn to kiss it, I confess I could not notice the child: I saw only the beautiful dark face, coiffed with orange and purple, bending over it, in an illumination of antique gold.... What a da!... She represented really the type of that _belle affranchie_ of other days, against whose fascination special sumptuary laws were made; romantically she imaged for me the supernatural god-mothers and Cinderellas of the creole fairy-tales. For these become transformed in the West Indian folklore,--adapted to the environment, and to local idealism:--Cinderella, for example, is changed to a beautiful metisse, wearing a quadruple _collier-choux_, _zépingues tremblants_, and all the ornaments of a da.[38] Recalling the impression of that dazzling _da_, I can even now feel the picturesque justice of the fabulist's description of Cinderella's creole costume: _Ça té ka baille ou mal zie!_--(it would have given you a pain in your eyes to look at her!)

... Even the every-day Martinique costume is slowly changing. Year by year the "calendeuses"--the women who paint and fold the turbans--have less work to do;--the colors of the _douiellette_ are becoming less vivid;--while more and more young colored girls are being _élevées en chapeau_ ("brought up in a hat")--i.e., dressed and educated like the daughters of the whites. These, it must be confessed, look far less attractive in the latest Paris fashion, unless white as the whites themselves: on the other hand, few white girls could look well in _douillette_ and _mouchoir_,--not merely because of color contrast, but because they have not that amplitude of limb and particular cambering of the torso peculiar to the half-breed race, with its large bulk and stature. Attractive as certain coolie women are, I observed that all who have adopted the Martinique costume look badly in it: they are too slender of body to wear it to advantage.

Slavery introduced these costumes, even though it probably did not invent them; and they were necessarily doomed to pass away with the peculiar social conditions to which they belonged. If the population clings still to its _douillettes_, _mouchoirs_, and _foulards_, the fact is largely due to the cheapness of such attire. A girl can dress very showily indeed for about twenty francs--shoes excepted;--and thousands never wear shoes. But the fashion will no doubt have become cheaper and uglier within another decade.

At the present time, however, the stranger might be sufficiently impressed by the oddity and brilliancy of these dresses to ask about their origin,--in which case it is not likely that he will obtain any satisfactory answer. After long research I found myself obliged to give up all hope of being able to outline the history of Martinique costume,--partly because books and histories are scanty or defective, and partly because such an undertaking would require a knowledge possible only to a specialist. I found good reason, nevertheless, to suppose that these costumes were in the beginning adopted from certain fashions of provincial France,--that the respective fashions of Guadeloupe, Martinique, and Cayenne were patterned after modes still worn in parts of the mother-country. The old-time garb of the _affranchie_--that still worn by the _da_--somewhat recalls dresses worn by the women of Southern France, more particularly about Montpellier. Perhaps a specialist might also trace back the evolution of the various creole coiffures to old forms of head-dresses which still survive among the French country-fashions of the south and south-west provinces;--but local taste has so much modified the original style as to leave it unrecognizable to those who have never studied the subject. The Martinique fashion of folding and tying the Madras, and of calendering it, are probably local; and I am assured that the designs of the curious semi-barbaric jewellry were all invented in the colony, where the _collier-choux_ is still manufactured by local goldsmiths. Purchasers buy one, two, or three _grains_, or beads, at a time, and string them only on obtaining the requisite number.... This is the sum of all that I was able to learn on the matter; but in the course of searching various West Indian authors and historians for information, I found something far more important than the origin of the _douillette_ or the _collier-choux_: the facts of that strange struggle between nature and interest, between love and law, between prejudice and passion, which forms the evolutional history of the mixed race.

[Footnote 37: The brightly colored douillettes are classified by the people according to the designs of the printed calico:--_robe-à-bambou,--robe-à-bouquet,--robe-arc-en-ciel--robe-à-carreau_,--etc., according as the pattern is in stripes, flower-designs, "rainbow" bands of different tints, or plaidings. _Ronde-en-ronde_ means a stuff printed with disk-patterns, or link-patterns of different colors,--each joined with the other. A robe of one color only is called a _robe-uni._

The general laws of contrasts observed in the costume require the silk foulard, or shoulder-kerchief, to make a sharp relief with the color of the robe, thus:--

_Robe_ _Foulard._ Yellow Blue. Dark blue Yellow. Pink Green. Violet Bright red. Red Violet. Chocolate (cacao) Pale blue. Sky blue Pale rose.

These refer, of course, to dominant or ground colors, as there are usually several tints in the foulard as well as the robe. The painted Madras should always be bright yellow. According to popular ideas of good dressing, the different tints of skin should be relieved by special choice of color in the robe, as follows:--

_Capresse_ (a clear red skin) should wear Pale yellow.

_Mulatresse_ (according to shade) Rose. Blue. {Green.

_Négresse_ {White. {Scarlet, or any violent color.]

[Footnote 38: "_Vouèla Cendrillon evec yon bel ròbe velou grande lakhè.... Ça té ka bail ou mal ziè. Li té tini bel zanneau dans zòreill li, quate-tou-chou, bouoche, bracelet, tremblant,--toutt sòte bel baggaïe conm ça._"...--(_Conte Cendrillon_,--d'après Turiault.)

--"There was Cendrillon with a beautiful long trailing robe of velvet on her!... It was enough to hurt one's eyes to look at her! She had beautiful rings in her ears, and a collier-choux of four rows, brooches, _tremblants_, bracelets,--everything fine of that sort."--(Story of Cinderella in Turinault's Creole Grammar).]

II

Considering only the French peasant colonist and the West African slave as the original factors of that physical evolution visible in the modern _fille-de-couleur_, it would seem incredible;--for the intercrossing alone could not adequately explain all the physical results. To understand them fully, it will be necessary to bear in mind that both of the original races became modified in their lineage to a surprising degree by conditions of climate and environment.