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A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
Bv MARAII ELLIS RYAN. 
 
 SQUAW LLOUISE 
 
 A PAGAN OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 
 
 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 IN LOVE S DOMAINS. 
 
 A Trilogy. 
 
 MERZE ; 
 
 The Story of an Actress. 
 
 Issued iq the " RlALTO SERIES." 
 For Sale at all Booksellers and News Stands. 
 
 RAND, MCNALLY & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE 
 
 U V 
 
 MARAH ELLIS RYAN, 
 
 // 
 
 AUTHOR OK 
 
 Toi.n IN THE HILLS," " SQUAW ELOUISE," "A PACAN <>K TIIK 
 ALLEGHANIES," " IN LOVE S DOMAINS," 
 " MERZE," ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY. 
 
 1894. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY RAND, McNALLv & Co. 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 Flower of France. 
 
THIS, 
 
 A STORY OF OUR SOUTH LANDS, 
 
 TO 
 
 WITH THE EARNEST FRIENDSHIP OF 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 M24632 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 Prologue. The Insurrection, - 
 I. The Brand of the Fleur-de-lis, 
 II. Venda, 
 
 III. Two Strangers from France, 
 
 IV. " Master, Buy Me ! " 
 
 V. An Evening with Monsieur Lamort, - 
 VI. The Next Morning, 
 VII. Denise of the Convent, 
 VIII. The Man Rochelle, 
 IX. The Voudou, 
 X. Echoes from the Past, 
 XI. The Wooing of Ninon, 
 XII. Diego Zanalta Lays Plans and Sefiora 
 Zanalta Speaks Her Mind, 
 
 XIII. Monsieur Lamort Pays a Visit, 
 
 XIV. Diego Sees a Ghost, 
 XV. Venda, - 
 
 XVI. A Rendezvous, 
 XVII. Denise and Sister Andrea, 
 XVIII. Once More Zizi, - 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 9 
 
 9 
 
 33 
 
 49 
 
 63 
 
 73 
 
 1 1 1 
 
 179 
 202 
 229 
 
 244 
 261 
 
 271 
 277 
 289 
 33 
 307 
 
 (7) 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 PROLOGUE.;, \ 
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 
 
 THE golden light of morning crept through the 
 pale curtains of vapor that were .spread over the 
 bayous north of Orleans Island. The awakening 
 beams gilded the gray-green festoons of moss-draped, 
 century-old cypresses, and touched caressingly the 
 white-winged herons that rose softly from shadowy 
 wood-depths and took silent ilight outward and 
 upward in the October air. A flock of vultures, 
 many as a gathering of crows in autumn, sailed low 
 over the swamps and with outstretched necks reached 
 eagerly toward the west, where the mighty river of 
 the New World dragged its way to the sea through 
 many channels. Occult sounds drifted along the 
 brown waters of the bayous smothered, misty 
 sounds of forest creatures. Now and then the shrill 
 scream of a bird would cut sharply across the hum 
 ming song of the insects and the soft rustle of the 
 reeds, and again the muffled howls of animals would 
 come across the vast levels and warn one of dangers 
 lurking in the savage gloom of the forests. 
 
 Small wonder if the slave of the Afric coast and 
 
 (9) 
 
10 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 the courtier from the French court alike dreaded 
 the jungles of that vast unsurveyed portion of New 
 France stretching north and east from the little set 
 tlement of Acadians, and west past the domains of 
 the weak and friendly Alibamon race, and into the 
 huritdng-groujid^pf the fierce nations. 
 
 Demons 6f Ifrdtian* superstition and the avenging 
 .-gQ(Js from*A;^c Ja#d*were known to lurk just out 
 side the c ulfivalrett plantations and hurl strange ills 
 on the colonist who dared to tempt fate by sleeping 
 in the perfumed shadows of those mysterious depths. 
 But past the myrtle and orange orchards (mementos 
 of the banished Jesuits) a pirogue drove through the 
 clear brown water of Bayou Petite and headed 
 toward the places of dread, slipping through the 
 willows where each sinuous belt of water entered 
 seemed just like the one left behind. 
 
 No other canoe was seen on the waters that morn 
 ing. Never a boatman of France or of Spain called 
 greeting across the levels. Of all the colonists, no 
 others were without the gates of the town that 
 morning, where, in the Place d Armes, an excited, 
 gesticulating mass thronged. Cheers for the 
 King of France sounded under the windows of the 
 Spanish governor, while the tricolor was run aloft 
 and floated gracefully, dreamily over the insurrec 
 tionists, who consisted of the French Creoles, the Aca 
 dians who had sought rest in the warm delta lands 
 of the Mississippi, Alsatians cajoled to the New 
 World by that most clever of Scotchmen, John Law, 
 and the few " Amcricains " who had drifted down 
 ward on the water from Kentucky and entered into 
 
THE INSURRECTION. 11 
 
 trade and barter between the eolonists and Indians. 
 Coming thus within the lists of merchants restricted 
 by the hated laws of Spain, laws suited so ill to the 
 struggling life of the new country, dissatisfied, the 
 seed of revolution had been sown, and they had 
 arisen as one man to drive out the representatives 
 of Spanish dominion, to whom their beloved France 
 had faithlessly sold them six years before. 
 
 They were as children ; those warm-blooded, 
 impetuous, but not persevering Creoles; children 
 cast off by the mother-land, to whom their loving 
 hearts turned pathetically ; children made reckless 
 and quick to suspicion by the knowledge that their 
 homes and their hearts were the playthings cf those 
 two kings across the ocean, and that they were sold 
 to a new master as completely as were the girls and 
 boys from Africa whom they themselves bought 
 from the slavers of the Mexican sea. Yet, incon 
 sistent as children or as mobs, it was the buyer 
 against whom their wrath had arisen, while voices, 
 French, Acadian, creole, called under the tricolor 
 the huzzas for fair France, blessings on the good 
 Louis (Louis XV. !), the selfish, unscrupulous figure 
 head of a nation. 
 
 Such was the picture lit by the sunrise that Octo 
 ber morning of 1768. The first blow against foreign 
 dominion in the American colonies was being aimed 
 there by the American Creoles of Louisiana, who, 
 having no flag of their own, waved the beloved tri 
 color and fancied it a symbol of freedom. 
 
 And back of the master race thronged the blacks, 
 three to one of the colonists, and heard their mas- 
 
12 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 ters demand freedom, and looked at each other with 
 memories of Guinea showing in their soft, black, 
 velvet-like eyes, and wondered if the change of the 
 flags would lighten the chains they felt the weight 
 of so often a weight they bent under, they and their 
 children, for a hundred years longer. 
 
 " The town is ours, yet not a life has been lost to 
 gain it," said the youngest of those revolutionary 
 leaders, the ardent Bienville, as he smiled at the 
 array of arms carried by their men, an equipment 
 of old muskets, staves, clubs, knives anything and 
 everything gathered to emphasize their demands 
 for the exodus of Charles III. of Spain in the 
 person of his governor. But Foucault, the crafty, 
 who stood near, heard the young enthusiast s words, 
 and lifted his head in quick remembrance of one 
 unseen. 
 
 " De Bayarde, where is he ? " he asked ; and the 
 faces near turned to each other. 
 
 " Who has seen him since the dawn ? " asked some 
 one else. " He was then beside me near Tchoupi- 
 toulas gate, he and the boy. Did he not enter with 
 us, he so delighted ? " 
 
 Foucault s face grew dark. The delighted ones 
 -the enthusiasts he could not afford to lose they 
 make excellent tools for the plotter they trust. 
 
 " Find Hector de Bayarde," he said ; and a little 
 later some one brought word he was not within the 
 town more, that a young Acadian volunteer had 
 seen him fall near the gate, struck by some missile, 
 but that he had arisen, said it was nothing, and 
 leaned on the banquette as the others marched 
 
THE INSURRECTION. 13 
 
 through. Then all else had been forgotten in the 
 rush of the insurgents. Where the missile came 
 from no one could tell, but the missile itself was 
 found, a broken bowlder the size of a man s clenched 
 hand, and along its sharp edge was the stain of 
 blood scarce dried. The mark of a bloody hand 
 was left on the gate, as though one had staggered 
 there in passing out ; but that was the last trace 
 left. 
 
 And the missing one ? 
 
 He lay in the pirogue threading Bayou Petite as 
 the sun arose. But he saw none of its glories. He 
 did not see even the falling tears of the boy who 
 paddled with all his strength through the still 
 brown water, nor noted the smothered sobs that 
 must have reached his ears. 
 
 He lay with closed eyes, the lids quivering at 
 every rough motion of the boat. Blood-stained was 
 the rough-hewn sides of the tiny vessel, blood 
 stained the yellow ruffle at his neck, the brown 
 cloth of his coat, and death seemed to have touched 
 his pale forehead. 
 
 " Basil," he whispered, <% my little one, have we 
 not yet arrived ? " 
 
 And the " little one," who was perhaps ten years 
 of age, shook back the fair curls from his face, and 
 controlled his voice to reply. 
 
 " Not quite, papa, but soon." 
 
 Each spoke in the tongue of France, the polished 
 intonations of the man suggesting the usages of a 
 different life than that found in the cabins of the 
 colonists. But the boy s speech was not so pure ; he 
 
14 A FLOWER OK FRANCE. 
 
 seemed a pretty Acadian peasant doing- the will of 
 some grand marquis ; yet their tones held love as 
 they spoke to each other. 
 
 "But it must be soon, very soon, Basil," he mur 
 mured, " else it will be too late. Do not weep. You 
 are . . . my brave one ; you will ... in other 
 years, perhaps, carry a sword for the France ... 
 I love . . . and your mother loved. You will 
 remember? Our love will watch over you, and you 
 must work for France." 
 
 The halting whispered words were so low so 
 low ! but the boy s ears were keen. 
 
 " Yes, I will remember," he said. " Rest now, and 
 maybe when we return the good physician " 
 
 " No, it will not be. You, . . . my boy, will be 
 my physician ; . . . you will help me to die . . . 
 in peace. Ah! the way i:; long." 
 
 "We have arrived." And the boy guided the 
 pirogue gently to the slight beach of sand, where 
 thickets of willow threw shadows of pale leaves in 
 the water, and a little up from the wet shore a 
 rock, huge, upright, and solitary, arose like a sentinel 
 over the jungles. 
 
 " We have arrived," he repeated ; and his tears fell 
 on the hand stained that deathly red. " Papa tell 
 me, what is it I must do ? " 
 
 " Take the shovel, dig deep close to the white side 
 of the rock ; deep, so no waters will wash it away." 
 
 It the boy did not know what that meant. In 
 his heart he thought his father was made mad by 
 that murderous blow in the dusk at the gate of the 
 town. He had seen one who was mad in the sum- 
 
THE INSURRECTION. 15 
 
 mer just past a slave brought from over the sea 
 and he had been shot just as a dog- had been that 
 went mad once there in the town. Basil knew, he had 
 heard, and his fright had been great when his father 
 also spoke as though in madness and asked for a 
 pirogvie, while the blood unheeded blinded him. 
 Surely he was mad, but were the silent bayous not 
 preferable to that crowded town where the people 
 shouted, where they might shoot him if they knew 
 it, as they had shot the slave and the dog ? 
 
 Basil thought so, and with his little heart filled with 
 fear, and with the foreshadowing of a great grief 
 over him, he did as he was told, manfully striving to 
 hasten the lifting away of the heavy sand, fashion, 
 ing a hqle there deep as his father wished. 
 
 And then he saw what it was to contain, a decan 
 ter of glass, a thing he had delighted to play with 
 when he was quite little ; but now it was filled with 
 paper instead of sweet syrups, and the sparkling 
 stopper was tied down with strands of hemp black 
 with tar. It did not look pretty as of old, but the 
 man touched it lovingly. 
 
 " Wrap it in the tar-painted cloth you found with 
 the boat," he whispered. "So! Now set it there 
 deep by the great rock ; cover all ; then I will tell 
 you ; but hasten." 
 
 The little hands smoothed effectually all signs of 
 disturbance of the soil. His father could not see ; 
 he was simply trusting that all was clone as he 
 asked ; and the boy was faithful. 
 
 " It is done. What more? " he asked, and Hector 
 de Bayarde s hand raised as though blessing him. 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " My brave one," he said, " we will go back now. 
 Once more I may see the tricolor waving alone in 
 our new land. Go gently. ... I will tell you, . 
 and we will go back. Do you listen ? " 
 
 And as the pirogue crept gently back through the 
 willows the boy heard without being conscious of 
 the significance weighting his father s words. 
 
 He had heard them so often so often those 
 words of the two kings across the water ; of the two 
 flags fluttering as neighbors over the colony, French 
 at heart and Spanish in form. There was another 
 ruler over the sea whom he always got sadly con 
 fused with those two ; it was the British sovereign who 
 had driven the Acadians from their fair homes into 
 heartless exile. His mother had been of those wan. 
 derers. So long as he could remember those tales 
 of the gorgeous oppressors and the pitiful oppressed 
 had been told him, as the stories of saints and of 
 fairies were told to other children ; and it seemed 
 but the same thing over again as his father said : 
 
 " It will always be so ; never forget, my little one. 
 Many nations may assault . . . may control the 
 life of our little city of the great river; but her 
 heart will never change. It is the French heart 
 that will beat through her body while the river runs. 
 Some day you may carry a sword for France, as I 
 have done. She may want help when . . . you 
 are a man. When that time comes you are twenty- 
 five not before, come then to the great rock ; take 
 help from the papers there. They have power; I 
 was exiled; ... a plot; . . . the papers they 
 never got. They have power. When I am dead put 
 your hand on mine ; . . . promise to forget where 
 
THE INSURRECTION. 17 
 
 . . . they are hidden . . . until you are so old; 
 ... to utter no word ; ... no living thing must 
 know ; ... no one." 
 
 " I will promise now ; and, oh, you will live you 
 will live ! " 
 
 But the man knew it could not be. The warm, 
 growing sun was burning mingled fancies into his 
 brain. He seemed striving to keep his thoughts on 
 but one path. 
 
 " La Belle France, . . . mon brav Basil ! It is a 
 good sword. . . . Ah, my wife Suzette ! Basil, 
 through the willows . . ." 
 
 So he murmured, with long pauses between the 
 sentences ; so they moved on through the water 
 toward the warehouse of the king, toward the Place 
 d Armes, where the people shouted for freedom. 
 
 " Back to the flag," he whispered, coaxingly. " I 
 see it no more Basil ! " 
 
 And thus it was that the pirogue was seen close to 
 the willows by the tower gate as the sun rose high, 
 and within it a dying man and the weeping boy, who 
 could satisfy their curiosity so little. 
 
 " He loved the boats and the water, so I took him 
 where he wished to go in and out under the wil 
 lows and now he speaks no more, and I ah! be 
 kind with him. He is so good and he can not 
 speak ! " 
 
 His fears were allayed, and Hector de Bayarde 
 was borne unconscious past the groups of sanguine 
 patriots whom he had striven to serve. Every heart 
 beat less gladly as they learned his fate. Ill would it 
 have been for the thrower of that murderous stone 
 
18 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 had his name been known, for this the first life sac 
 rificed for their cause had been one much loved, 
 much trusted. 
 
 As the sunset light touched the flag native to his 
 heart, he spoke for the last time : 
 
 " Basil mon brav La Belle France ! " 
 
 One year later, when the fleet of Spanish ships 
 rested before the town and the hundreds of Spanish 
 grenadiers landed to enforce, if need be, Spanish 
 laws, those insurrectionists of 68, who had called 
 themselves patriots, were treated as traitors. 
 
 It is a dark page that holds the record of Spain s 
 vengeance on the colony : the hearts pierced by the 
 bullets of her soldiery, the imprisonment of patriots 
 in the Castle of Morro, the lives banished forever 
 from the lands of Louisiana, the confiscation of all 
 properties belonging to the leaders; the power 
 landed with so much pomp and ceremony on their 
 shores was most relentless. 
 
 All of those horrors had been mercifully spared 
 de Bayarde by his death on their first day of triumph. 
 In the records of the Spanish custodians his name 
 occurs as a most earnest rebel a traitor who 
 escaped justice through death. To outraged Spain 
 naught was left but the land owned by him, and the 
 slaves who had called him master. These were 
 accordingly confiscated. 
 
 But in those records no mention is made of the 
 boy who bore his name a name that was all the 
 inheritance allowed him by the new power, the 
 power absolute. And even the name of an insurrec 
 tion leader was made a thing of burden to the 
 bearer in those days. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BRAND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 GREAT changes and grand manners of living fol 
 lowed in time in the wake of those grenadiers of 
 Spain. The languorous life of ereole repose was 
 cramped in the straight-jacket of pomp and form 
 and distracting ceremony. The civil offices of the 
 town were of no more consequence than of old, yet 
 the titles bestowed on the holders of them sounded 
 so grand and fine in the Spanish words that they 
 diffused a sort of awe over the colonists, for back of 
 those many-syllabled titles was the Spanish council, 
 or cabildo, that conferred them, and back of the 
 cabildo ranged the vessels with the soldiers and the 
 ruthless governor-general, and back of them the 
 throne of Spain. 
 
 And La Belle France, and free commerce, self- 
 government, and the many Utopian ideas and 
 shadowy wraiths of hope chased by the Louisi 
 ana Creoles ? 
 
 Alas ! they were spoken of with tears and sadness 
 in those days, but under compulsion the dreamers of 
 those dreams wrote their names in the great book 
 of the cabildo and subscribed themselves subjects of 
 Spain, and were caiite as well off after it as before 
 had their prejudice allowed them to believe it. 
 
 But enough of the old customs remained, though 
 
 (19) 
 
20 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 rechristened, to gradually win them to content. 
 Their religion was left them ; in the ruling of their 
 slaves little was changed; each owner was still 
 invested with full powers of police over his black 
 toilers, and for lack of a newer mark the fleur-de-lis, 
 the flower of France, was still branded as of old on 
 the body of refractory slaves. 
 
 Ah, yes, the new rule had its good points, after 
 all. To be sure the heart of the life there was 
 French ; so at length the Creole lips learned to smile 
 again, to murmur condolences to each other with 
 languorous acceptance of their lot, and as their pos 
 sessions and privileges grew with each blooming of 
 the myrtles, they looked with more kindly eyes on 
 the exiles from Spain. In time their sons and 
 daughters helped to close the breach with lovers 
 promises, and society grew into a tranquil institu 
 tion, with more of leisure for the little refinements 
 of their old lives in the countries of courts. 
 
 And the hunters and traders from the north 
 countries and the lands of the Illinois beheld with 
 wonder the changes each journey witnessed in the 
 palisaded town on Orleans Island. Ships full of 
 stores glided into her harbors, and bore away in 
 exchange the products semi-tropical of the soil and 
 wealth of skins from the creatures of the forests. 
 Not alone Spanish ships, for after a season of ostra 
 cism the ever watchful British crept again into the 
 toleration of the people and moored their trading 
 vessels along the shores. 
 
 One by one the Spanish merchants, bidding for 
 fortune, varied the architectural features of the 
 
THE BRAND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 21 
 
 town by building in the midst of their gardens the 
 picturesque dwellings of old Spain. They were all 
 but one story high, those quaint mansions, with their 
 inner courts where oleanders and orange-bloom 
 shaded the restful galleries from the tropic suns. 
 
 There were Moorish arches under which one 
 walked into those gardens circled by the dwellings, 
 and the latticed windows, long and narrow, were 
 banded by metals from across the ocean, while 
 within the shadowy living-rooms were spread great 
 skins from the bear and the tiger, and bright weav- 
 ings of rugs from the Indian hands of the East. 
 Soft carpets of feathers were formed by slave ringers 
 from the smooth breast of the wild duck, and 
 couches of mahogany were draped in silk and 
 linens ; tables of finest woods were inlaid with the 
 pearl shell of the shores, while vessels of precious 
 metals filled with Spanish wines were borne to the 
 white rulers by half-naked slaves. Surely, of all col 
 onies on our coasts, none bore with it such atmos 
 phere of beauty and gracious oriental fancy as 
 circled the life there shut in from the gaze of the 
 world by the vast wilderness draped with the cur 
 tains of gray moss. 
 
 And so it was that fabulous tales of luxury were 
 told of the Louisianians in many a log cabin of the 
 East, where the hunters wandered tales that raised 
 many conjectures among the simpler pioneers who 
 tilled the earth with plows of wood and ate their 
 dinner of corn and beans from bowls made of 
 gourds and spoons cut from white ash. 
 
 Of a certainty there must be kings dwelling at the 
 
22 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 gate of the great river, they decided only kings 
 drank from jeweled cups and dressed a favorite 
 slave in cloth of silk and silver arm-bands. In the 
 book of books such things were told of, and the God 
 fearing knew they were the temptations of Satan, 
 and warned those wide-ranging traders to beware 
 of his nets that were surely held in those oarbaric 
 hands at that port of the South. 
 
 But in the more ardent adventurous minds those 
 abominations had an aspect most enticing, and ear 
 nestly did they ply the chance traveler with questions 
 of the grandeur down there; of the old governor 
 who had gone away after many years ; of the new 
 governor who had taken his place ; of the jewels, 
 many as the sands, rare gems from the rich mines 
 of Mexico. 
 
 And the wearers of those jewels ; fair they must 
 be, of course, said report, though in truth few of the 
 traders from the inland could testify to that, for caste 
 was a high barrier in those days, and the wives and 
 maids of the rulers were not to be gazed at as freely 
 as were the shy, half-naked sauvage girls who drove 
 their canoes through the lagoons in search of fish. 
 
 But had any of the curious ones been allowed the 
 privileges of the gray parrot that swung so demurely 
 in the garden of Mons. Gaston le Noyens, that one 
 would have found proof positive of the beauty shut 
 in by the high hedges of green. 
 
 For two girls talked under the parrot s perch, 
 and were screened from house and garden by the 
 latticed, vine-covered bower ; two as widely different 
 as light and darkness, yet each surely beautiful. 
 
THE BRAND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 23 
 
 They were very close together; their speech was 
 disjointed and broken at times, as by smothered 
 sobs. The jeweled, lily-like hand of one rested on 
 the silver-banded, bronze arm of the other, who 
 crouched at her feet. One was of the ruling race 
 and color, the other a stray from Africa ; one was 
 mistress, the other slave. 
 
 And on the slave s shoulder, where the snowy 
 chemise was pushed back, was the mark of a cruel 
 deed, the cause of those despairing murmurs ; for 
 crisp and gray on the brown skin was branded the 
 sign of a rebellious slave the deep-burnt fleur- 
 de-lis. 
 
 " But you, Zizi, are not of the insurrection blacks," 
 pleaded the soft French tones of the mistress ; " then 
 
 why ?" 
 
 She stopped speaking and waited for the girl at 
 her feet to answer the muttered question. But the 
 eyes, red from weeping, looked shrinkingly into the 
 tender blue eyes above her. 
 
 "No ; I never go where other black people go 
 to whisper in crowds. No ; some one lied, maybe ; 
 some one jealous" and she moaned a little, repeat 
 ing the words " some one jealous, that I never sent 
 to the rice plantation; that s why, maybe. And 
 now oh ! 
 
 "But, Zizi- 
 
 The slave-girl raised her head and hand ; she had 
 oddly commanding gestures for her race. 
 
 " No ; please, ma m selle good Ma m selle Felice, 
 give me a new name. I m new nigger now ; that s 
 all. Zizi carried no shame burnt with iron on the 
 
24 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 shoulder ; Zizi sung songs all day ; Zizi was happy ; 
 Zizi now dead dead and gone to hell white mas 
 ter s hell. Oam-me ! " 
 
 "Zizi ! " scolded Mademoiselle Felice, half fright 
 ened at the wildness of speech, " never more say 
 such words you hear ? I will not love you, I can 
 not, if you grow wicked. What if the rcgidors 
 (rulers) or alcaldes (judges) should hear words like 
 that ? Could I keep you from the rice fields then ? 
 No; not even your master could do that." 
 
 " Master not care ! " burst out the slave. " Master 
 hope I drop dead, I know. I say few little words, 
 that s all, and he look ooh ! how his eyes look at 
 me ! then he go way. By-in-by cabildo men come, 
 put chains so! pull me to calabozo send me 
 back with this ! " 
 
 Her agitation was so great that her speech 
 
 French, and very imperfect was disjointed. Made 
 moiselle Felice watched the expressive face for the 
 meaning instead of trusting to the words with their 
 decided coloring of the African coast so many 
 words of France, or of English, are impossible to 
 the native of West Africa; and the girl, though 
 wearing a silken sash above her buff linen skirt, and 
 though bands of white metal decked her shapely 
 arms, was yet without doubt a native of the black 
 lands. 
 
 " No ; your master has been a good master to you," 
 contradicted Mademoiselle Felice. " Did he ever 
 make Zizi work on the plantation ? ever make her 
 wear nigger cloth/ like the others? ever make her do 
 work but wait on me ? ever make her sleep but at 
 
THE BRAND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 25 
 
 my door ? No, no, child ; he never want you to die. 
 Some one told him false of you, maybe yes, surely; 
 but your Master Gaston loved you kind, Zizi." 
 
 A queer little sound, like a scornful moan, came 
 from the child, who was perhaps nineteen, and older 
 by a couple of years than Mademoiselle Felice. 
 " Bouf ! kind love white man s love oam-me ! " 
 and she rocked her body in a sort of derisive misery. 
 "Zizi know I know white man s love. Look on 
 my shoulder! White man s love made that." 
 
 Mademoiselle Felice covered her eyes with her 
 hands. " Oh, you poor unfortunate ! My good Zizi, I 
 loved the very name of France ! but now I can not, 
 when I see its emblem burnt in your flesh ; no, never 
 again. The chains and whips of Spain can be no 
 more cruel. But I love you, Zizi. I will buy you if 
 Uncle Gaston can be coaxed, and you will never see 
 the branding-iron again. Ah, how it must burn 
 you ! " 
 
 Zizi s swaying body ceased, and she looked up 
 with a strange expression on her face. 
 
 " I m all black, and you, Ma m selle Felice, are 
 white, like the magnolia blossoms, but maybe we 
 can feel the same ; and if Master Basil, when he 
 slips under the trees to speak with you, would 
 strike you with a whip instead of to kiss your 
 hands, would the pain be more where the whip fell 
 than the ache in the heart? " 
 
 " Zizi, how dare you ! " 
 
 "Ah, ma m selle, sweet ma m selle, be not 
 angered; for see" -and she laid her clinched hand 
 on her half-bared bosom " the hurt is so bad here 
 that I forgot I was only the slave I forget." 
 
26 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Yes, you forget," agreed ma m selle, sadly ; " that 
 is why the cabildo men made you suffer, that is 
 why I must speak unkindly. Why do you forget? 
 The others do not." 
 
 " Heh! the others" and Zizi threw back her head 
 as a young mare of the desert might when touched 
 first by the whip " the others know why. They were 
 slaves always, the many who come in the white 
 master s ship ; two, three work now in your rice 
 lands that I did buy, that I did sell on my own 
 shore. The others were the others born, as I was 
 born, of the king s wife ? Were the others told by 
 the old men of the traps in the king s laws, and the 
 way to rule and make a nation strong ? Were the 
 others carried on woven mats and shaded from the 
 sky by the broadest leaves ? The others ! I, the Zizi 
 of Master Gaston, am not as the others." 
 
 Surely these were the words of the insurrection 
 blacks who were dreaded ; troubled Mademoiselle 
 Felice shook her head sadly. The brand of the 
 flcur-dc-lis was not so difficult to explain now. 
 
 " Zizi, if they hear you speak like that they will 
 take you away to the plantations, and the chains, 
 and the brands, and the whips will kill you, maybe. 
 Is it not better to be still, and to live where I live ? 
 Yes, I think so. The rulers will not say you are 
 different ; they will say the gold did buy you as the 
 rest, and that your master may not keep you in the 
 town." 
 
 " Buy me me never believe ; they may kill me, 
 but never believe." And the strange creature clasped 
 her hands pleadingly. "Ah, good Mademoiselle 
 
THE BRAND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 27 
 
 Felice, white ladies never hear how the white 
 masters trap slaves with kind eyes and softest words. 
 So Zizi was bought ; so she slipped her boat in the 
 night to follow where the big kingdom was, to sit by 
 the kind master and be woman king in a land so big 
 her own could be swallowed by it. Such thoughts 
 had Zizi in her heart. Oam-me ! oam-me ! " 
 
 " Mcrci ! Zizi, you speak like the fairy stories of 
 the foreign prince and the charmed princess," and 
 Mademoiselle Felice tried to laugh lightly, but was 
 embarrassed by the outspoken fantastic desires of 
 the favored slave. They were so droll, these black 
 people ! But Felice had never seen any of them 
 droll after this fashion of Zizi s. She was very cer 
 tain her Uncle Gaston would find grave cause for 
 reproof in the fact that she listened to and showed 
 sympathy with a slave who was under the ban of 
 that flower of France. Yet Mademoiselle Felice 
 Henriette St. Malo had all a woman s interest in 
 puzzling things, and surely these aspirations of Zizi 
 were the most unheard-of, ridiculous things ; from 
 whence had they come ? 
 
 " Well, continue, Zizi ; finish the story." 
 " This has finished the story," and the girl pointed 
 to the brand and arose to her feet. One could see 
 then the wondrous symmetry of the statuesque fig 
 ure. Not the limbs of the rice-worker those. Made 
 moiselle Felice, in her dainty blue and white gown, 
 looked like a pure-lipped lily beside the tawny ori 
 ental beauty of the slave. And the bronze feet, 
 with their jingling anklets, looked strangely slim 
 for the feet of an African. But are there not le- 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 gends of the Moors ranging far down that western 
 coast? Might not those feet be a record of their 
 raids ? 
 
 Not that Zizi s mistress speculated on these ques 
 tions. Zizi was handsomer than all the other slaves ; 
 that was why she was kept like a bright picture in 
 the house. It is pleasant to be waited on by beauty ; 
 and the spirit of voluptuous France was abroad 
 through the land in the eighteenth century. 
 
 " But tell me, Zizi " 
 
 "Mistress "--and the girl s voice had lost its pas 
 sionate coloring, the tones were low and even 
 " Mistress Felice, niggers dream wide-awake some 
 timesthat s all. Zizi dream like that. Zizi say 
 fool things, for reason her fine little mistress is so 
 kind. She be good now ; say fool things not any 
 more only find new name. Please, Ma m selle Fe 
 lice, I hear you some days sing little song like 
 bird ; that song it say so, Vendaient! vendaient! Now 
 what that mean, mistress ? " 
 
 Ma m selle Felice smiled and blushed over all her 
 witchy, softly curved face. 
 
 "Oh, that s a love-ballad, in which the cavalier 
 laments that Monsieur Cupid has betrayed him for a 
 glance from a lady, and sold him for one whisper 
 through a lattice." 
 
 " And vendaient, mistress ? " 
 
 That is but betrayed sold you know; you 
 learn the words so swiftly." 
 
 The slave-girl nodded. " Zizi thought like that 
 - venda vendaient that pretty, fine name. Mis 
 tress, give me that name. Zizi ugly in my ears 
 
THE BRAND OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 29 
 
 now Venda sound good the song sound good. 
 Venda better, anyway. Jocko, who catches fish, has 
 a monkey devil he call Zizi ; so please, mistress, 
 give me a name to myself." 
 
 " Well, if it please you, and if you are good," con 
 sented Mademoiselle Felice, and wondered at the 
 childish petulance about sharing a name with a pet 
 animal she who had been startling in her pain 
 and her passion over weightier matters not an hour 
 ago ; and now she was smiling her thanks, though 
 signs of tears were yet on her cheeks. 
 
 " Um ! I ll be good now Venda will the name 
 is good Venda!" Then she stooped and kissed 
 the white wrist before her. "I ll be good to you, 
 little mistress; I d die for you," she muttered, and 
 turned away. Not another word of that burning 
 brand. Had the gift of the new name driven away 
 the pain ? 
 
 "It is as the planters say they are only chil 
 dren, after all, Zizi too," thought her mistress. 
 
 The home of Mademoiselle Felice was by no 
 means of her own choosing, else it would not have 
 been in that suburban corner of the town, where the 
 streets were yet to be, and where the thick green of 
 the leaves shut one off as effectually from sight of 
 more social New Orleans as if the dwelling-house 
 had been without the banquette among the indigo 
 fields where the slaves worked. 
 
 But Gaston le Noyens, like many another volupt 
 uary, enjoyed all the more the excesses of his 
 barrack associates and the carousals of the warm 
 nights because he went to them from the cloister- 
 
30 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 like shadows where the remnant of his family 
 exhaled a certain atmosphere of innocence about 
 the pomegranate-walled retreat. 
 A man universally liked for his handsome face, 
 his gracious smile, and the fascination which won 
 for him friendship of men and women, though few 
 could have told of any good deeds done by him. 
 
 Indeed, it had been whispered that it was the 
 troublesome fascination of his manner which exiled 
 him from the light of the king s countenance twelve 
 years before. The king who would be paramount in 
 chosen feminine hearts is wise when he banishes 
 courtiers who look voiceless adoration. A suppliant 
 at beauty s feet is much more dangerous as a rival 
 than one who stoops to confer favors, and Louis 
 XV. of France was doubtless aware of the fact. 
 
 But exile seemed to trouble Monsieur le Noyens 
 but little. He had plunged carelessly, recklessly 
 into different schemes and enterprises of the New 
 World. He had crossed the dread lands into Mexico, 
 and came back with strange jewels ; he had spent a 
 year about the northern settlement of Vincennes, and 
 floated down the great river with costly stores of 
 furs ; he had crossed the Mexican sea many times 
 to the slave markets of Barbadoes, and had ranged 
 once that once of which Zizi moaned the west 
 coast of Africa, and on his return had found his 
 widowed sister, lately arrived, dying, of either dis 
 ease or homesickness, and a blue-eyed demoiselle 
 who called him men oncle, and whose presence sug 
 gested the forming of a home against the day when 
 he should grow too old to roam. 
 
THE BRANT) OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 31 
 
 Such was the man, but a type of many in the 
 adventurous life of that new colony owned by the 
 Spanish king. And if he failed in many ways as a 
 guardian, or in his new role of a domestic bachelor, 
 well, it was only a jest to laugh at, and, after all, he 
 thought he did well, since no lady, of whatever rank, 
 was draped as finely as his protegee, and in all the 
 colony none was more delicately cared for. In all 
 the colony there lived no demoiselle so high of 
 birth, so altogether desirable, and at the same time 
 unwedded ; but all the flattering ceremonies of their 
 caste did not prevent the languid days from drag 
 ging wearily to her. Youth loves gay youth, and 
 not the conventionalities of a court ; and the hon 
 eyed phrases tendered her by her uncle s friends 
 had never yet done aught but amuse her or make 
 her weary of their sameness. 
 
 In fact, to the wonder of all, it was* generally 
 supposed Mademoiselle Felice meant to take the 
 veil of conventual life instead of a husband, if one 
 could judge by her indifference to the latter, and 
 her close affection for the nuns, in whose society she 
 passed much of her time ; and in the charity hospital 
 down there by the grasping, treacherous river the 
 girl was not a stranger. 
 
 But never a cavalier strode by the side of Made 
 moiselle Felice. Zizi was there when she went 
 abroad in the streets, and Ponto, a stalwart black of 
 the Congo ; sometimes a Ursuline nun, whose eyes 
 were ever on the ground, but never a social friend, 
 except it be Father Dagobert, of beloved memory 
 and easy penances. 
 
32 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 But ghostly associations stole never a charm of 
 life and youth from the flower face of Felice, and 
 dimmed never the bloom of the velvet mouth ador 
 able the mouth so sweetly tremulous, as from the 
 consciousness of kisses. 
 
 Did a thought like that ever cross the brain of 
 Monsieur le Noyens? If so, he had but to run over 
 the list of eligibles among them his good comrade, 
 Don Diego Zanalta on whom she had smiled a 
 "no," yet retained their devotion. And outside 
 those cavaliers and ecclesiastics the child had no 
 knowledge of man or boy in all the colony, unless, 
 indeed, it be a certain half-caste youth named Basil, 
 who had the trick of picking music from a mandolin 
 and from whom Felice had begged to learn after 
 hearing the notes on the river one night. 
 
 But Monsieur le Noyens counted the music-master 
 not at all among the receivers of his protegee s smiles. 
 A woman of the Le Noyens to stoop to one beneath 
 her! Her guardian would as soon have thought 
 black Ponto among her lucky suitors. And she had 
 not even seemed to regret those lessons of harmony 
 when they ceased so suddenly months ago, and did 
 not even know the fellow s audacity in asking Mon 
 sieur Gaston for her hand, if in five years he could 
 present himself with wealth and name acceptable in 
 the eyes of her family. 
 
 Monsieur Gaston was touched with merriment 
 whenever he remembered that scene. It was, no 
 doubt, the outgrowth of the free air in this new 
 land, that swept over barriers of caste and raised 
 hopes of boatman or merchant to the level of the 
 
VENDA. 33 
 
 ruling blood. But it was ridiculous, entirely. Per 
 haps it had been amusement tempering his anger 
 that day ; anyway, he had dismissed the Pan of the 
 river reeds with no greater hurt than a few sardonic 
 speeches and the suggestion that he at once betake 
 himself from the colony and return to the dcmi- 
 sauvagcs of the Illinois, where there were no objec 
 tionable lines of caste drawn, and where he might 
 aspire to the daughter of some chieftain and meet a 
 surer welcome. 
 
 Monsieur Gaston never could remember aright just 
 the words of the lad s reply ; but he realized that 
 the player of the mandolin, who was also a voyagcur 
 or boatman of the great river, could express much 
 rage without words, and was sadly deficient in the 
 suave manners of courtiers. 
 
 Yet his audacity had soared as high as the hopes 
 of the highest-born cavalier on the new lands ! Well 
 it was that Felice never knew ; her kind heart made 
 her gentle alike to courtier, commoner, or slave, and 
 the guardian of Felice understood that the presump 
 tion of the ranger needed harsher medicines than 
 her sweet-voiced reproof. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 VENDA. 
 
 AND Mademoiselle Felice ? Did Monsieur Gaston 
 never for a moment guess that she might possess 
 something of his own determination even love of 
 
 3 
 
34 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 adventure under the tender mask of her fair face ? 
 And to what hearts do romances appeal most allur 
 ingly ? Surely those shut in by the grays and the 
 whites of the cloister s life. And the blood of youth, 
 so quick to sympathy, reads many a volume from 
 tender answering eyes, and heeds but little the con 
 ventional words of aged guides. Wisdom is good, 
 but wayward folly has a sweetness of its own ; its 
 guidance is such an alluring thing. 
 
 The magnolia and the willow had drooped over 
 many of the sauvage lovers of that semi-tropic land, 
 and they formed many a natural bower for a wooing 
 of courtlier phrases when the athletic young voyageur 
 left the paddle to his comrades and touched the man 
 dolin strings for the pleasure of mademoiselle. 
 
 And the finale ? That day of Zizi s disgrace 
 Zizi s mistress again sat in the arbor of the far 
 gate, but instead of the sobbing slave-girl there 
 was the form of a stalwart monk at her feet, and 
 instead of priestly admonitions on his lips there 
 were warm broken sentences, with which caresses 
 mingled, and on the whiteness of her hands many 
 kisses were pressed. 
 
 And Felice was telling him the horror of Zizi s 
 punishment. 
 
 " And if we are to believe, it was by my uncle s 
 commands ; then think how great would be his 
 anger if he knew all ! Oh, Basil - 
 
 But he stopped her with a smile. 
 
 " No one knows all, my little madame, not even 
 Father Dagobert, much as he loves a love ; and but 
 to-day has Father Luis taken the way into the wil- 
 
VENDA. 35 
 
 derness beyond Vincennes. Our sweetest secret is 
 ours until we choose to speak." 
 
 " But secrets are so terrible ! I grow weak when 
 I think of his anger. Poor Zizi ! " 
 
 " Dear heart, think of the boat on which we will 
 some day sail far from these shores ; think not so 
 long on the fate of a slave, who laughs, perhaps, 
 while you sigh for her. Be not so tender of heart, 
 little one." 
 
 " Ah, and had I been hard of heart a certain 
 voyagcitr we know of would now be with Father 
 Luis in the forests instead of kissing a lady s ringers. 
 Dare you chide me, man brave Basil ? " 
 
 "Mon brave Basil," he repeated, tenderly; "you 
 speak for my father when you say the sweet words ; 
 they are the last of my remembrance of him. But 
 chide you ? I bless and thank you. You make me 
 a prince when you turn from your world of court 
 iers and take my hand. But a brave man borrows 
 no cloak of a priest when he goes wooing," and his 
 face, fair with the light of youth, and softened by 
 curls of brown, grew for a moment dark and discon 
 tented. " Had I but your consent I should claim 
 you before all, and bear you away from their walls 
 of caste, and their empty pride ; only your will 
 holds me back." 
 
 "And your promise your promise to be kept 
 one year no more," she said, coaxingly. "Then 
 all may know, but not yet; they would shut me 
 away from you, perhaps, and then then I should 
 die, oh, love, believe it." 
 
 That his belief was willing and tender none could 
 
36 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 doubt who heard the caressing, reassuring words. 
 The kisses of his lips touched her, and she flushed 
 as a rose under his eager eyes. 
 
 11 A summer ago you would not have been so 
 bold," she whispered ; and he laughed. 
 
 " A summer ago, and all my summers agone, I 
 dreamed dreams of paradise as I sped my boat 
 through the bayous, and the saints you among 
 them have been too good to me, Felice, for the 
 dreams have come true, and paradise has stooped to 
 me while I am yet alive." 
 
 But even in the midst of the joyous boast she 
 raised her hand. " To-day everything makes me 
 afraid," she whispered. " I do not know why, per 
 haps because of Zizi s grief, but every footstep 
 sounds like a bell in the night when the blacks arise ; 
 and now but now did you not hear some one 
 speak?" 
 
 He listened and shook his head. " It is but the 
 laughter of guests there at the house. But you are 
 right, it is not wise to linger at this hour others 
 than we may fancy this shadowed corner; and so 
 until to-morrow - 
 
 His arm was about her as they paced to the door 
 of the arbor and halted for a moment of farewell ; 
 but ere it was spoken a scuffle of feet was heard 
 without, and the girl Zizi was flung from the path 
 by an angry hand, and a face appeared before them 
 at which Felice screamed faintly and strove to draw 
 from the detaining hand of the tall young priest. 
 
 Yet the face was in no sense a fearful one. Its 
 lines were rather handsome, fair, cynical lines, and 
 all touched just then by a smile. 
 
VENDA. 37 
 
 " How is this ? " he inquired, as if a pleasant pict 
 ure had been arranged for his benefit alone. " A 
 scene ardent as the loves of Abelard and that other 
 religious harlot of old France ! Do you, then, gra 
 cious father, take to your arms a daughter of Eve 
 for love of heaven ? " 
 
 In an instant the voyagcur heart broke through the 
 barrier of priestly garb ; swiftly he struck, and the 
 enraged, mocking face of Monsieur Gaston was lev 
 eled to the green grasses ; blood was struck from the 
 mouth that had smiled so insultingly, and at sight 
 of it Felice screamed. 
 
 " He is dead," she cried, wildly. " Oh, good God ! 
 Basil, you have taken the life of my uncle." 
 
 " And stolen the heart of the niece," added another 
 voice, and Felice saw the form of Don Diego Zanalta 
 standing but a few feet away. He had evidently 
 accompanied Monsieur Gaston and been an unseen 
 witness of all that passed. Zizi arose to her feet and 
 cast a look of hate toward him as she caught her 
 mistress, who drooped suddenly on the arm of the 
 priest, pale as a blossom beat down in a tempest. 
 
 "Take her, Zizi," said the man, who seemed a 
 priest to Zanalta "take her from the speech of 
 these men, whose words are sacrilege to purity ! " 
 
 He laid the loved form in the slave-girl s arms. 
 With the watchful eyes of that gay cavalier on him, 
 he refrained from kissing even the hand of her, but 
 he looked adoringly on the pale face, and raised his 
 hands in gesture of blessing above her head, mur 
 muring something unheard by the others. 
 
 He watched so long as a glimpse of her could be 
 
38 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 seen through the shrubbery ; such a heavy weight 
 seemed to fall on his heart when his eyes could rest 
 on her no longer. So few the moments since para 
 dise had been his, and now - 
 
 He straightened himself, remembering that other 
 man, and the owner of the land who lay at his feet. 
 
 " Your friend is not dead," he said, as Monsieur 
 Gaston stirred and attempted to rise. Zanalta as 
 sisted him, but his eyes were curiously on the priest- 
 clad form and face. 
 
 "Who are you?" he demanded, and Basil de 
 Bayarde turned away. 
 
 " Monsieur le Noyens can tell you if he chooses, and 
 for my acts he will always find me ready to answer." 
 
 He walked away, but not until he was seen by two 
 other gentlemen who came hurriedly from the man 
 sion-house, where the arrival of Zizi had disturbed 
 the smoking of gay gallants who liked well the fra 
 grant cigars of Le Noyens. Full of wonder, they 
 gazed at the retreating monkish form, and then at 
 the pale, slightly scarred face of their host. 
 
 " It is but trifling, gentlemen," he reassured them ; 
 " a vagabond employe, whom I had forbidden the 
 grounds, crept back in disguise, for the purpose of 
 theft, no doubt, and gave a great fright to mademoi 
 selle, my niece. We had an altercation, but it is 
 over, and since he is gone we will do well to forget 
 him. I will set a watch for him in future, for these 
 rangers of the rivers are daring thieves." 
 
 His guests agreed, though quietly curious as to 
 why the thief was allowed to walk away unarrested. 
 
 But Zanalta was not content to let his curiosity be 
 
VENDA. 3 
 
 quiet as to the man whom Mademoiselle Felice had 
 called-" Basil" in so intimate a tone. Basil? Basil? 
 In all their circle of the colony he knew none of 
 that name to whom she would turn. But one thing 
 he did know this Basil was the man who had 
 lured her from his arms. This cavalier of the gown 
 should be his game, he promised himself ; for all in 
 an instant he realized that his rival was not the 
 holy church, not the cloister of a nun, but this stal 
 wart unknown. 
 
 " Tell me but one thing, Gaston," he asked, press 
 ing his friend s arm with affectionate sympathy ; 
 " tell the others as little as you like, but remember 
 you and I are more than companions of a season. 
 Remember you have given me Felice, if I can win 
 her ; now give me also the name of the man who 
 is my rival." 
 
 Le Noyens halted where a rustic seat was set in 
 the shade of oleander branches. 
 
 " Ask our friends to excuse my absence for a little 
 while," he asked, " and then come back here. If I 
 speak to you it is best to have no walls about." 
 
 The other gentlemen had already halted at the 
 portal, waiting for the master, but in a few smooth 
 phrases Zanalta excused their host and placed the 
 house at their disposal. On his return he found 
 Gaston no longer reclining ; he was erect, and walk 
 ing backward and forward moodily. He turned at 
 the step of his friend. 
 
 " That we agreed Felice should marry you, if 
 any man, is one of the bitter things I would like to 
 forget just now," he acknowledged. " I feel that 
 
40 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 her guardian-angel will do well to keep her away 
 from me for the present, or I might be tempted to 
 kill her." 
 
 "Gaston ! " 
 
 " You do not know what she has become ! " burst 
 out the other ; " she has disgraced her family she, 
 the first woman of her name to do so. You would 
 not now care to remember that you ever desired 
 her. The women of Zanalta have been noble. You 
 would not want to be first to add to the house a wife 
 who has stooped to the canaille as Felice has 
 stooped. Ah, I tell you why not? You would 
 learn it some day. By the cross of God, she ll pay 
 dearly for her gay meetings ; not another day shall 
 vshe live without the walls of the nuns she pro 
 fessed such liking for. That I, Gaston le Noyens, 
 should have been blinded so long by this praying 
 dame whose eyes dare not rise to meet a man s ! 
 Oh, fool fool ! " 
 
 Diego Zanalta only watched his friend, waiting 
 for the wordy rage to die away. 
 
 " I ask but the name of the man," he said again, 
 quietly; " you have not told me." 
 
 " Then I shall." And Gaston s smile was one of self 
 pity. " Why spare ourselves any of the humiliation 
 she has bought so dearly ? Months ago I told you 
 of a boor a voyageur floating down from the 
 villages of the sauvagcs; he could pick airs from the 
 mandolin. Well, it seems Mademoiselle Felice found 
 her mate in that ignorant, low-bred oarsman, for 
 to-day I surprised them with clasped arms, his kisses 
 on her lips. This meeting was not their first, be sure 
 
VENDA. 41 
 
 of that, Diego. Could I give to my friend a wife 
 who was the leavings of such cattle?" 
 
 " I desire mademoiselle, and hold you to your 
 promise," Zanalta answered; "but the fellow s 
 name?" 
 
 " Basil de Bayarde." 
 
 " De Bayarde ! that is not the name of a plebeian." 
 
 " Bouf ! A name is as easy to borrow or steal as 
 the gown of a priest." 
 
 " De Bayarde the name has a sound familiar, 
 though I know none who answers to it. De Bayarde 
 that name must be for the present written on the 
 clearest page of my memory. De Bayarde?" 
 
 " Yet you seem to care little enough," remarked 
 his friend, looking at him sharply ; " you whom I 
 have seen rage because a little ncgrcssc divided her 
 favors and gave you but half ; you who have left a 
 man dead on the sands of Spain because of a woman 
 whose vows were as false as the jewels she wore, 
 and as cheaply bought. Do I know you even yet, 
 Diego?" 
 
 "Who else if not you? Bend not your eyes on 
 me in such disturbed wonder because I am forget 
 ting the season of the passion flowers for the sake 
 of one fair lily I would have grow in my garden." 
 
 " Fair, perhaps ; foul by the proof." 
 
 " Heed your words!" retorted Zanalta. "I have 
 adored her through a century of waiting, and your 
 croakings shall not mar the visions of my paradise." 
 
 " To which his excellency De Bayarde will raise 
 a locked gate of iron," sneered his friend, whose 
 brooding rage yet pictured itself in glance and tone. 
 
42 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 But Zanalta tapped with white, strong fingers his 
 jeweled snuff-box and gazed sagaciously toward the 
 gate where the priest s gown had disappeared. 
 
 " Have no fear that Basil de Bayarde will be for 
 gotten. Saint Satan will aid me in that, for you 
 know how dearly he hates a monk s hood." 
 
 " Go within, Diego ; you are light as the bubbles on 
 new wine. You, better than myself, can act the host 
 to-night. Look to our friends. I must think." 
 
 But he could not even think in repose ; rage made 
 him restless, and again his feet were turned toward 
 the far gate where he had surprised the lovers. 
 Forward and back he walked with bent head, not 
 seeing the lithe form of the slave-girl who entered 
 the gate from without, panting as one who has run 
 far ; yet her absence had been but short, and she 
 slipped behind the myrtles, stealthily, that he might 
 not think she had been abroad in the roads of 
 Orleans ; it would be so easy for him to fancy the 
 truth that she had followed the lover with word 
 from the mistress. 
 
 Quite near her, as she stood in hiding, there 
 gleamed something bright, as of silver, among the 
 green of the grasses. Bending forward she saw more 
 clearly. It was a slim, curved blade, with a handle 
 of buckhorn; a knife such as the white hunters 
 and the men of the river carry in their belts. It 
 had, no doubt, fallen from under the priestly gown 
 in the altercation so lately passed, and quick-witted 
 Zizi knew that, if found, it would be an added cause 
 of offense against the voyageur. 
 
 " When the morning comes again they will be far 
 
VENDA. 43 
 
 in the wild woods," she told herself. " But Master 
 Gaston walks like that for madness, and the night is 
 long enough for him for devil Zanalta to do bad 
 deeds in, and the knife must not be found by him." 
 
 But as she reached for it and stepped back again 
 the anklets of silver she wore clinked one against 
 the other, and at the sound her master turned 
 quickly. 
 
 She was standing erect, there in the green, watch 
 ing him with somber eyes, and gave him the impres 
 sion of having stood there a long time watching him. 
 
 " Sulking still, you brown devil ? " he growled, as 
 if glad to find some object to vent his wrath upon. 
 " Well, you ll have cause ; doubt it not. When the 
 sun comes up to-morrow, if it finds you absent from 
 the indigo fields, fifty lashes will be added to that 
 fine mark on your shoulder." 
 
 Her face grew ashen at his words. The indigo 
 fields ! There among the black cattle who called her 
 "the proud" and "the favorite." No, death was 
 best ; and she held more closely that knife. 
 
 "Master, have I not been hurt enough? I will 
 be good once more, if only you will be a little kind 
 to Zizi a little kind, as you were in my own land. 
 See, I tremble ; I am afraid, as little children ; listen 
 to me; be kind." 
 
 She approached him, pleadingly, her eyes moist 
 with tears of entreaty, but his face never softened, 
 
 "Be kind to a slave who dictates terms to me? 
 You have been mad for many months. The whip 
 of the overseer will prove a most excellent cure for 
 that malady." 
 
44 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Mad? Yes, she must of a certainty have been 
 that, for the supremacy of the master was forgot 
 ten by her, and she laughed, though her lips seemed 
 stiff. 
 
 " The whip of the driver ! Was the Zizi you knew 
 among the palms ever touched by the whip ? Did 
 the slaves who stooped before her ever feel the 
 weight of hot irons? You are wise and strong, O 
 my master ; but slave Zizi that you did steal is 
 stronger now. Before a whip touches her she will 
 be free from your land." 
 
 " Hah ! You voudou devil, do you mean you 
 will raise the blacks? By the saints, I ll have your 
 bones broken for that threat. To the quarters ! " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 She seemed to him like a pythoness with the head 
 and shoulders of a woman, and her form grew more 
 majestic as if swelling with some dread import 
 not to be worded, and her eyes had yellow lights 
 in them and were terrible. 
 
 " Listen ! " she said, and the words were a half 
 whisper in her earnestness. " I beg to you for the 
 last time. If I die by the whips, you will die too, my 
 master, die in the dark when no one sees. It is the 
 life of you I beg for ; you were ever dearest to Zizi. 
 See ! I plead, I kneel by your feet. I ask that you 
 take again to your heart the thought of our days on 
 my own lands ; the days were sweet ; think of them ! 
 Touch my hand once more once ! " 
 
 Her other hand was hidden under the loose drap 
 eries of her bosom, and the point of the knife was 
 touching the spot over her heart. 
 
VENDA. 45 
 
 But he never dreamed that death was the freedom 
 she meant. 
 
 4i You fool ! " he sneered, and struck her with his 
 foot. " Cattle of the jungles, begone ! " 
 
 It was his- last word, except " Holy God! as he 
 fell, and the knife meant for her own heart was 
 sunk deep into his. 
 
 He never moved, and a great sickness swept over 
 her as she looked at him. The sneer was gone from 
 his lips. He lay as if asleep asleep as he had 
 slept with his head in her lap through the hours of 
 one sweet moon. 
 
 But no knife-hilt rose above his heart then ; and 
 with a moan she turned blindly from the path, not 
 heeding her direction. But the spirits of her Afric 
 land must have led her from discovery, for just then 
 the monk s gown entered again stealthily the outer 
 gate. He was coming in answer to the message she 
 had left with him so lately, but she sank down under 
 the broad leaves of a strange plant there. Earth 
 and sky seemed meeting above her ; she did not see 
 him. 
 
 But other eyes did the eyes of Zanalta. Impa 
 tient of Gaston s absence, he had left the gay party 
 in the house and was moving along the path, when 
 he heard those angry, hurried voices, and an instant 
 later saw his friend stretched across the path. 
 
 He was about to rush forward, when he saw the 
 lover of Felice coming straight in his direction. 
 He watched with a smile in his eyes that presumpt 
 uous ranger of the wilds walking to fate. 
 
 Assuredly Saint Satan was good to him, and to 
 
46 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 perfect his wishes he heard close behind him gay 
 cavaliers, who were calling to him merrily that the 
 wine was so good and that his desertion was not to 
 be pardoned. 
 
 De Bayarde heard them too, and turned to retreat, 
 when his eyes fell on the dead form there dead 
 on the spot where they had quarreled so short a 
 time before dead, with a knife sticking in his 
 heart that knife! 
 
 He ran forward, dropping on his knees beside the 
 body. It was incredible ; the hand he touched was 
 yet warm not a minute had passed since he had 
 been struck down ; but the assassin ? 
 
 He saw that other man coming toward him ; he 
 heard the gay laughter of the guests change into low 
 prayers and words of horror. Questions were 
 poured on the supposed priest, who could answer 
 nothing ; and as he rose from beside the dead form 
 he met the eyes of Zanalta fastened on him with a 
 gaze so peculiar that he instinctively shrank from 
 the meaning of it. 
 
 " But the assassin ? " demanded one of the gentle 
 men. "His heart has scarce ceased to beat; the 
 wretch who did the deed can not have gone far ; we 
 must search." 
 
 " Search not beyond the walls of the garden," 
 answered Zanalta ; < l why even beyond the man 
 whom we found over the corpse ? " 
 " The priest?" 
 
 " No, not a priest ; strip that gown from off the 
 assassin s shoulders, and you will find under it an 
 adventurer, a ranger of the rivers called" 
 
VENDA. 47 
 
 " De Bayarde ! " answered the voyageur, himself 
 flinging aside the disguise no longer needed. " Basil 
 de Bayarde, gentlemen ; but no assassin." 
 
 "Say you so?" asked Zanalta ; " then it is your 
 word against mine, fellow, for I heard your voices 
 in anger in the garden. I hurried here, and found 
 you about to flee from the crime at your feet ; and 
 see, gentlemen, notice the hilt of the knife, a knife 
 such as river men wear." 
 
 " And on it letters the saints guard us ! they 
 spell Bayarde. 
 
 The young ranger gazed on the dark faces in 
 wonder. He seemed stunned by the weight of accu 
 sation brought against him. And then from the 
 house ran Felice to the spot where they told her the 
 master was hurt. But once there she gave scarce a 
 glance at the body of her uncle, but with a face full 
 of horror she turned to her lover. 
 
 " You have killed him this time," she whispered. 
 " Oh, Basil ! " 
 
 " Felice, do you accuse 
 
 " Accuse you ? Never that, never. You hear, gen 
 tlemen ? you listen ? It is my uncle who lies there, 
 yet I accuse accuse no one." 
 
 And for the second time that day she swayed, 
 deathlike, toward him. But he read, as the others 
 read, her real suspicion under that loyal protest, 
 and something like a groan arose at sight of her. 
 
 " You too, Felice ? " he murmured, and then turned 
 to the others. " You wish to arrest me, I see, and 
 for a murder. I have never committed one; but 
 there stands a man who has lied to accuse me, 
 
48 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 and as your good laws, gentlemen, will doubtless ask 
 my life to-morrow, my debts to this world must be 
 paid quickly, and to him I owe death." 
 
 And then he leaped over the body of Le Noyens, 
 and full at Zanalta s throat. But a dozen forms 
 were hurled against him, and he was dragged back 
 ward, leaving Zanalta unharmed but a little breath 
 less ; and as the slave-girl came forward through the 
 shrubbery, as if fascinated by the horror there, the 
 eyes of the Spaniard met hers, with a wealth of 
 meaning in them. 
 
 " Assist your mistress, Zizi. And for this assault 
 upon myself, and for the murder I was witness to, 
 this fellow shall have a sentence heavier than death 
 itself transportation for life to the mines of 
 Mexico." 
 
 The gentlemen looked at each other in horror. 
 The mines were a hell, even to the black giants of 
 their land ; and this bright-haired youth 
 " " Gentlemen, if I am condemned for this crime 
 if there is councilor or judge among you all, I ask 
 of you death for death. I have fought for this col 
 ony against the reds of the north. I ask the death 
 of a soldier." 
 
 At the word * death the slave-girl stepped for 
 ward, but Zanalta checked her with a glance. 
 
 " I am of the council," he retorted, "so I promise 
 you an assassin shall not have the death of a soldier 
 under our laws. Die you .shall but in the mines, 
 where devils of your own kind congregate, and the 
 death will not be swift." 
 
 The accused raised his hand as if in prophecy. 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 49 
 
 " Beware, then, the day of my return, for the dead 
 come back, they say, and on the day when God s 
 hand frees me, I shall remember you? 
 
 Zanalta tried to laugh, but failed ; and as two of 
 the gentlemen touched Bayarde s arms to lead him 
 away, the slave-girl again motioned appealingly to 
 the vSpaniard, but his eyes were bent on her so 
 threateningly that she slowly bowed her head, and 
 avoided the eyes of the prisoner, who turned toward 
 her with a mute farewell for Felice. 
 
 And the old gray parrot in the arbor chattered 
 over and over a name it had heard so lately a new 
 name, and strange as new music on the ear 
 " venda venda vendaient ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 
 
 SLOWLY as time loiters in the South lands, and 
 drowsily as the days pass under the myrtles, yet the 
 seasons are driven onward, each in its turn, and 
 many had passed ere the record of life on the island 
 by the many-mouthed river is resumed. 
 
 And it is a finer life than of old, despite hurri 
 canes that had swept it, and disease that had often 
 weakened it. Names and families had grown 
 stronger, commerce had widened, plantations had 
 driven the jungles farther back from the gulf- 
 only the waters remained the same, and the green- 
 fenced bayous still held many a mystery. 
 
50 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 And of the names known widely in the growing 
 town, none held more power than that of Zanalta. 
 Youth was no longer his, nor yet age ; but the man 
 of forty had developed all the promise of Diego 
 eighteen years earlie r a good comrade, a courte 
 ous cavalier, a thorough politician. Not an office 
 held by a servant of Spain was beyond the range of 
 his ambitious hopes, and many prophesied that he 
 would yet be ruler in the new land. 
 
 Was it for such ambitions that he was yet a bach 
 elor that, despite his gallantries to the many, he 
 had not yet devoted his life to the happiness of any 
 one lady ? 
 
 There were those who remembered that he was 
 once the suitor of beautiful dead Felice St. Malo, 
 and whispered that as the cause of his celibacy. He 
 smiled a little when these whispers reached him, 
 and reaped the benefit of sympathy bent on him 
 through soft eyes. It is so much easier for women 
 to forgive constancy to a dead rival than to a living 
 one. 
 
 But the faces of women were seldom lacking in 
 his establishment. His house was a hospitable one ; 
 a sister-in-law from old Spain, and a half-sister, wid 
 owed, yet childish, were of his household, and 
 beauty of high degree gathered often in his garden 
 and under the arches of his dwelling-place, while 
 slaves by the score called him master. 
 
 And in the spring-time of 92, when a ship of 
 France arrived in the harbor with the exciting- 
 intelligence of revolt that was openly talked of in 
 the streets of Paris, and when among other stran- 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 51 
 
 gers to disembark came two cavaliers, young, engag 
 ing, and utter strangers, it was to the hospitable 
 roof of Diego Zanalta they were recommended by 
 the captain of the vessel. Had they letters of intro 
 duction to people who could not be found ? Then 
 most assuredly Don Diego would be the one to 
 advise them; and the gracious commander, who 
 scented reflected glory from those bejeweled court 
 iers, even took it upon himself to be their messen 
 ger, and found the family about to leave for a fete 
 to be celebrated at the house of one of the high 
 dignitaries of the town one Monsieur Victor 
 Lamort, an exile from the shores of France, but 
 one who had brought so much of wealth into exile 
 with him that he lived like a prince in the city of 
 jungles, and was even called by the people " Le 
 Grande Marquis." 
 
 Don Diego had already gone, but to the dazzled 
 eyes of Le Commandant there appeared instead the 
 vision of a petite dame vested in the bewildering 
 garb of a court lady, and from nodding plume to 
 silvered slipper there floated tissues of rose, and 
 her voice was the voice of a child who laughs. 
 
 " In truth I am sorry my brother is not to be seen, 
 but learning you are commander of the foreign 
 vessel just landed, I have ventured to present my 
 insignificant self in his august stead. Now pray tell 
 me if your business is of weight. If so I may chance 
 to further it." 
 
 Business ! The ruler of a ship and many men 
 was confused and dismayed by so fair an ambassa 
 dress. She prompted a man to make such declara- 
 
52 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 tions of love with his eyes that, abashed by his own 
 willingness, his glances sought the tiled floor while 
 he strove to recall the reason for his presence there. 
 
 Ah, yes ; those annoying cavaliers from France 
 who waited his return. Was he then to open the 
 gate for them to so much of beauty ? How hard it 
 is at times to keep envy out of the heart ! 
 
 And the little lady was interested so greatly. 
 Nobles from France fresh from the court life of 
 Versailles, perhaps of a certainty their society was 
 to be desired. 
 
 " I will myself be their message-bearer to my 
 brother," she conceded, graciously. " Tell me again 
 their names and where they are to be found." 
 
 " Mademoiselle 
 
 "Madame," she corrected; "Madame Ninon Vil- 
 lette." 
 
 " A thousand pardons, madame." 
 
 " One is enough, and it is granted. The names 
 of the gentlemen ?" 
 
 " First, Chevalier Maurice Delogne, late of the 
 king s household, Versailles." 
 
 "Oh-h! this is indeed news of import; and the 
 other?" 
 
 " Monsieur Constante Raynel, a friend of the 
 chevalier." 
 
 " And their wishes ? " 
 
 " They carry letters of introduction to some whose 
 names have been unknown in the town for many 
 years. Don Zanalta having much knowledge of 
 men, I thought would be able to advise them as to 
 where it were best to seek those people." 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 53 
 
 " I am convinced you are a most sensible and 
 kind-hearted gentleman, and you did right to seek 
 our house in the case of the strangers. I go at once 
 to the fete, and am assured my brother will send 
 immediately an invitation for the chevalier and his 
 friend to wait upon him. Where are they to be 
 found?" 
 
 " By my faith, that is a question not so easy to 
 answer, madame. I can only tell where I left them, 
 and that was near the banquette, and the chevalier 
 was bribing little demi-sauvages and black children 
 to stand still, or lie down, or dance, according to the 
 mood of Monsieur Ray n el, who did catch all their 
 strange postures and fix them upon paper by the 
 aid of a charcoal-stick, and the two were laughing 
 like children, and may have wandered far in advent 
 ure ere this." 
 
 The childish eyes of madame grew more round, 
 and she smiled in sympathy with those two whom 
 she had not yet seen. 
 
 " Then I am to think they are not old, those two 
 gentlemen who seek for adventure on our shores? " 
 
 " I venture to say they will never feel old when 
 they look at you, madame." And having thus 
 turned aside her curiosity by a compliment, Monsieur 
 le Commandant withdrew himself from the presence 
 of Ninon Madame Villette and madame, when 
 alone, sighed distressfully, and pouted those fine lips 
 of hers most becomingly. 
 
 " In truth I am sadly weary of these gallants of 
 our Orleans town, and did hope this chevalier and 
 this Constante of the charcoal-stick would at least 
 
54 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 have youth, and make it worth one s time to fash 
 ion new gowns for their eyes. Alas ! this island is a 
 cage, and I am weary of pluming myself when 
 young eyes never look through the bars. * They 
 will never feel old when they look at you, madame, 
 and she bowed mockingly to her own reflection in 
 the mirror ; which means, in short, that they are 
 gray-bearded ancients; Jupiters, who would make 
 love as they forge thunderbolts, ponderously. I 
 prefer an Adonis." 
 
 And those gray-bearded ancients ? 
 
 Down where the water whimpered along the 
 banquette as though afraid of the night coming on 
 strolled the two strangers, rinding the strange out 
 door life much more to their liking than the cafe 
 where they had agreed to live for the present. 
 
 The sun was sending arrows of yellow glinting 
 across the great slow-moving river, and gave so fine 
 a background for the human pictures ever and anon 
 arranging themselves unconsciously for an artist 
 eye. 
 
 " Sacrc! I never before dreamed that a ndgresse 
 could be good to look at," said he of the charcoal- 
 stick, as he stretched himself along a wooden 
 bench and gazed through eyes half-closed at a little 
 black girl whose arm circled a basket of oranges. 
 " Think, Maurice, how disastrous it would be if I 
 should have crossed the seas only to lose my heart 
 to one of these bare-legged bits of bronze flesh, or 
 perchance a feather-trimmed savage of that rich 
 red color such as we saw pass in the log boat. I 
 tremble, my friend ; I warn you I am afraid." 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 55 
 
 " Lose your heart, pouf ! Your head, you mean ; 
 for I ll venture an oath it would not be less than the 
 hundredth heart-break you have lived through since 
 we left our school-books. I wonder much whether 
 it is your art which tempts you to beauty, and love, 
 or love that has rendered you an artist ? " 
 
 " The latter, I do believe. I always fall in love with 
 my model, else the work has no interest for me; hence 
 my rule to paint only that which is beautiful. It is 
 so horrible to fall in love with ugliness, and it is 
 dangerous, too. For once allow an ugly woman to 
 fascinate you, and her chain is of iron ; that of 
 beauty is of flowers, and when faded will fall to 
 pieces of its own weight." 
 
 " You speak wisely as a past-master in the art of 
 love," smiled his friend; "but however entrancing 
 the subject of the sentiments, I deplore the fact that 
 you so frequently succumb to its allurements." 
 
 " Enough ; do not resume on these shores the lect 
 ures on reason which caused me so many weary 
 hours in the land we left ; and, after all, the heart has 
 reasons which reason can not comprehend." 
 
 " You are a hopeless affair, Constante. We arrive 
 here to begin life anew, do work, I know not what 
 yet. Surely our prospects are most serious ; yet we 
 have scarce touched the shore of the strangers when 
 you see a red maiden paddling in a boat, a black one 
 vending fruit on the street, and at once dream of a 
 rendezvous. Ah ! alas for myself that I am fond of 
 you, else my patience would surely break. You de 
 mand everything of life, yet are willing to work for 
 so little. A man s life should hold action as well as 
 
56 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 dreams. And your ambitions your hopes for the 
 future ?" 
 
 " Simple, my friend, most simple, I assure you ; 
 only to live in this semi-tropical land as in the Gar 
 den of Eden our Father Adam lived " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "After the fall!" 
 
 " By my faith, now, but I would like to see some 
 maiden of this savage land bring you to your senses 
 with a love that would burn your light fancies into 
 forgetfulness. You see in love only a pretty comedy, 
 to be played by two, and with a laughing world for 
 an audience, while love, the real, is more often a 
 tragedy. All devotion, passion, is a lonely, serious 
 thing. It is the great teacher, but its eyes do not 
 laugh." 
 
 His friend laughed silently, and made the sign of 
 the cross in the air with which to exorcise so for 
 midable a spirit as serious, tragical devotion. 
 
 "Could I find Monsieur Cupid I would send him 
 to you for lessons, Maurice. You would teach him 
 to make every gallant a poet. I wonder now what 
 fair instructress has influenced your ideas to such 
 serious reflections, you that kiss a lady s fingers ; 
 but oh, well, am I to believe, then, the gossip of 
 the guard-room, and think for a truth that the inter 
 est of Madame la Princess de H- - was that of a 
 butterfly ready to be caught, rather than that of an 
 illustrious patroness of deserving soldiery, or rather 
 one handsome soldier. That finale deserves your 
 best bow, my chevalier." 
 
 "You need a sound caning, Monsieur Imperti- 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 57 
 
 nence," retorted the other, as a slow blush covered 
 his face. " If Madame la Princess needs consolation 
 it will not be to courtiers she will turn, but to God. 
 Her illustrious but unhappy life may make of her a 
 saint, but never a Messalina." 
 
 " You think so because she resisted the temptation 
 of her heart, and sent you so far she could not recall 
 you, eh ? Oh, I see ! I observed several things 
 there at Versailles, my friend, though you give me 
 no credit for seeing things seriously. But I am 
 proud of you, just the same, for doing the thing I 
 fear oh, my tender heart ! I fear I should not have 
 found resolution to do. Your blush and your silence 
 do you honor, Maurice, and they honor that lady 
 across the seas who was so cruel as to banish you." 
 
 " The lady across the seas, whose influence directed 
 me here, was my aunt, Le Marquise de Lescure. 
 Please bear that in mind, Constante. The princess 
 belongs to the life we have left, and is not a subject 
 for jests. It was my aunt who urged my coming 
 here to look after some properties bought here long 
 since by some friend. I have scarce looked at the 
 letters of instructions yet. She asked me not to do so 
 until after my arrival. Even the letters of introduc 
 tion have not been examined by me, though I am 
 convinced they are all right. Since my birth she has 
 been like a mother to me ; and while I am puzzled at 
 her earnest desire that I should leave France for five 
 years, and build up interests here, yet I have refused 
 her nothing all my life, and did not withhold the 
 promise. I only want you to understand, once for 
 all, Constante, that it was for family reasons and my 
 aunt s desire that I am here." 
 
58 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Urn ! yes. I understand, also, that the lovely 
 old marquise is the closest friend, the confidante of 
 Madame la Princess. Ah, Maurice, you would never 
 make a politician, for you would be in the midst of 
 plots, yet never unbend to ferret them out. If 
 they grew too thick, or hedged you around, you 
 would cut your way through with the help of your 
 sword. But when women plot, swords are worthless 
 as the rushes there by the river. And whether you 
 know it or not, my comrade, not one woman, but two, 
 drew up your plan of exile." 
 
 " And how many your own, you romancer? " 
 
 " My own ? Happy am I to answer none. You 
 see I have not had the misfortune to be loved seri 
 ously by a saint ; and the consequence is, I had not 
 to take a discreet farewell by touching a lady s fingers 
 with my mustache. I assure you, no! I kissed 
 three maids of honor most beautifully, and was 
 about to complete a quartette when the husband of 
 number four was so inconsiderate as to enter the 
 audience-chamber. Ah, these husbands! By the 
 time I become one, I hope to have learned the lesson 
 of making my wife happy occasionally by effacing 
 myself." 
 
 " When you are a husband? Who do you fancy 
 will live to see that day?" 
 
 " Both of us, believe it. I am not the Chevalier 
 Maurice Delogne, with an ancient name and prospect 
 ive worldly comforts. I am only that droll rascal 
 Raynel, who has a curious talent with colors, but 
 who lacks the application to make himself great. 
 Well, it is so. I am content, to drift with you and 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 59 
 
 trust to fortune while I may. But I warn you that 
 if a female Croesus should cross our path, I speak for 
 her. She is mine do you comprehend? for I 
 need her, while you do not. And if I should want 
 help in my wooing, or if other suitors intervene and 
 have to be well removed, I bespeak your aid in 
 the cause of true love." 
 
 " Love of the lady s purse, but not her heart. 
 And what if the Lady Croesus should be ugly, and 
 old, and unpleasing, then what would our devotee of 
 beauty do ? " 
 
 " Win her, beyond a doubt ; for I would commence 
 my wooing by painting her a mask with so much of 
 youth and charm in it that she would grant me the 
 rest of her life as a reward for my devotion." 
 
 " Constante, do you never grow weary of your own 
 fanciful dreams? Here have we talked of trifles 
 until the sun has gone. You must wait until another 
 day to continue your finding of pictures." And the 
 chevalier arose to continue the walk to the cafe ? 
 when Constante gripped his arm and made a low 
 whistling sound with his lips an expression of 
 surprise. 
 
 " By all the tints of angel faces no ! " he whis 
 pered ; "turn not too quickly lest she vanish again 
 to paradise, but note that crippled one-armed sailor 
 and the being who bends over him ! Sacre! I 
 myself would lose an arm for such a glance of pity 
 from those eyes. Aye, even my head." 
 
 "You have lost the latter already," returned his 
 friend, irritably ; " and as a cause I see only a slight 
 figure in a nun s dress of gray, but with white 
 
60 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 sleeves. I can see no face, because of that gray 
 nun s hood, so fail to discover your reason for 
 raving. She looks, however, as though she might 
 be the very spirit of charity from the way in which 
 that unfortunate is gazing upward to her but you, 
 my friend, do not need alms, so come." 
 
 They were but a short distance from the object of 
 their conversation, who was in the way of their 
 walk. It seemed a very poor quarter of the town 
 into which they had wandered a sort of open-air 
 hospital for unfortunates and as the gray-garbed 
 nun turned from the crippled man to a woman who 
 held a sickly, complaining child, she came face to 
 face with the two strangers, and the chevalier was so 
 directly in her path that for one awkward instant 
 they essayed to pass each other, yet remained to 
 gaze with mutual wondering attraction into each 
 other s eyes. 
 
 And then he was not surprised at the enthusiasm 
 of his friend, for the face was so wonderful, with 
 all its childishness subdued by the nun-like dress, 
 and the bronze-gold hair framed in the gray hood, 
 and those eyes with their serious directness, in 
 color the blue-gray of the Mexican sea at twilight. 
 
 All this he saw in that moment, and had time to 
 be glad that the waved hair about her face forbade 
 the idea that she was entirely given to the church. 
 And then he found himself with head bared before 
 her, and murmured words for pardon as he stepped 
 from her path. She made no reply, but the grace 
 of her glance was evidence she thought him no cul 
 prit, and the faint flush creeping over her face made 
 his breath come quickly. 
 
TWO STRANGERS FROM FRANCE. 61 
 
 He had forgotten Constante, but that gentleman 
 had neither forgotten nor missed anything of the 
 wordless drama before him. He touched his 
 friend s arm with a comical expression of despair, as 
 though to lead him from temptation, while a pon 
 derous sigh was evidence that he noted his friend s 
 backward glance. 
 
 " And she never looked at me," he complained. 
 " To be sure I am not so largely built as you, but I 
 am quite as handsome. The only thing that con 
 soles me, Maurice, is that she is, by her garb, not 
 my Lady Crcesus, so I can relinquish her to you with 
 one heartache the less." 
 
 " A truce, Constante. It is provoking enough to 
 remember I have stared at that child until her face 
 changed color with vexation ; remind me not of it. 
 But, as gentlemen, is it not a duty for us to remain 
 near until we see her depart from this region in 
 safety? We heard strange, rough oaths down 
 there by those fisher-huts, and that way is her face 
 turned. She may be some innocent who has 
 strayed thus far in work of charity, and suspects not 
 the dangerous surroundings. Is that your idea ? " 
 
 "I have not an idea in my head the last one 
 vanished when I saw her face ; but it may chance 
 I can borrow one from the man she spoke to." 
 
 And before Maurice could remonstrate, the impet 
 uous youth had crossed the walk and was speaking 
 to the one-armed sailor. 
 
 " Who ? Oh, that is our Denise, St. Denise, so the 
 sailors call her ; and many a saint is pictured in for 
 eign churches who had never so kind a hand for the 
 
62 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 poor and miserable, and by my oath was never so 
 beautiful." 
 
 " Ah, that is just it ; we are strangers, and feared 
 that so much of beauty may have cause for fear 
 among those rough comrades over there. Has she 
 friends or guardian near? " 
 
 " Your question proves you a stranger" and the 
 man looked at him with sharp scrutiny "and I 
 would tell you, my fine gallant, that you had best 
 dance elsewhere for a partner. A guardian ? Why, 
 boy, there is not along all this shore a man so low 
 that he would not jump at the honor of fighting for 
 Denise. Guardians ? I could call a score of them 
 from where I sit ; so go your ways and save your 
 time." 
 
 " Come, Constante, you will only be misjudged 
 for your pains ; we will learn of others concerning 
 the lady. But I am glad enough to hear she is so 
 safe." 
 
 " I ll get myself a wooden leg to-morrow," 
 decided the artist. But his friend halted him with 
 a rather close grip on the arm. 
 
 " I will take care that you do nothing of the kind," 
 he answered, decidedly, " and I assure you that the 
 Lady Denise shall not be added to your list of mod 
 els. I have borne with your whims, you must bear 
 with mine in this ; do you comprehend ? " 
 
 Constante only looked at him a little wickedly 
 from out the corner of his eye, but uttered no word 
 beyond a low muttering, which continued as they 
 walked onward, and Maurice noticed that his hands 
 were clasped devoutly. 
 
" MASTER, BUY MB: ! " 63 
 
 "What new mischief are you brewing?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 " Mischief ? Ah, you wrong me, monsieur. I but 
 say a prayer for the memory of Madame la Princess, 
 a memory buried at sunset on the shores of Orleans, 
 and under curls of deepest bronze." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "MASTER, BUY ME !" 
 
 ADVENTURE seemed to be abroad in their path 
 that first evening, for they had but reached again the 
 main thoroughfare, and were passing a caft cJian- 
 tant, where the sons of planters and the younger 
 gallants of the town were often seen, when the door 
 burst open and a struggling couple staggered out, 
 flanked on either side by friends, remonstrating, 
 urging, and cursing. 
 
 The crowd gathering so quickly was of all tints 
 and character, but it seemed impossible for any in 
 authority to penetrate to the doorway where those 
 two struggled for possession and use of a knife held 
 high in the hand of the tallest. 
 
 A gentleman halted near Maurice and Constante, 
 hesitated a moment, and then flung himself against 
 the crowd as if to crush them aside with his 
 weight. 
 
 But quick as light a woman sped before him. 
 
 " Hist ! master," she said, shrilly, and threw up 
 
64 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 her hand to check him ; " for a slave it does not mat 
 ter wait! " 
 
 She had dropped a great basket at the feet of the 
 two strangers, and having succeeded in turning 
 aside the gentleman, she seemed to drop among the 
 feet of the swaying crowd, and an instant later reap 
 peared farther in the circle. 
 
 Room was made for her with astonishing readi 
 ness men shrank from her touch ; and when she 
 reached those two, and leaped upward like an ani 
 mal at that hand holding the knife, there was a 
 smothered cry went up from the watching people. 
 Would it mean death ? 
 
 But the very suddenness of her grasp secured it 
 without a struggle, and in an instant it was flung 
 from her high in the air, and the people scattered, 
 with cries of fear lest it fall on their heads, but they 
 never saw it come down. Oaths came from some 
 mouths, others crossed themselves in fear. 
 
 11 The black witch ! " 
 
 " Think you she swallowed it ? " 
 
 " Ah ! that devil-marked voudou ! " 
 
 And in the excitement the wrangler who had held 
 the knife slipped away, leaving the youth who was 
 his partner in the quarrel standing alone, looking 
 ashamed and puzzled, while the woman walked 
 quietly back and picked up her basket. 
 
 " Thank you, masters," she said, softly, noting 
 that the strangers had guarded it for her; " you are 
 kind." 
 
 Before they could speak, the man whom she had 
 checked crossed to her and touched her arm. 
 
" MASTER, BUY ME ! " 65 
 
 "You sought to favor me, girl, and you did a 
 brave thing there. Tell me your name." 
 
 She dropped her eyes, perhaps in embarrass 
 ment, and arranged a kerchief over her hair hair 
 strangely white above the dark-imaged face hair 
 for which they called her "devil-marked." 
 
 "My name Venda." 
 
 ;< Venda and your master s name? " 
 
 " Master Diego Zanalta." 
 
 "Ah, I know him well, and recall now that I 
 have seen your face in his house. Well, Venda, I 
 shall take heed that your master knows how care 
 ful you are of his friends, and if there is aught 
 beyond a gold-piece I can do for you, speak." 
 
 She hesitated, glancing at the two strangers, and 
 the chevalier bowed to her questioner. 
 
 " Pardon us, monsieur ; we have forgotten we were 
 eavesdroppers in our admiration of the work just 
 performed by this woman, whom you do well to 
 praise. We will withdraw." 
 
 " I beg you, no, young gentlemen ; our interest is 
 mutual, since the case seems strange to us both. 
 Speak, Venda, without fear your wish?" 
 
 "Master Lamort ? " 
 
 "Yes well?" 
 
 Master buy me ! 
 
 " Buy you? Well, on my word, this is a strange 
 request. I shall ask your reasons for it. You are 
 ^valuable, no doubt ; but why should I deprive Don 
 Zanalta of a treasure ? " 
 
 ;< You are Alcalde ; you are kind to slaves, to the 
 red Indians, even. You know many masters take 
 
66 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 slaves because they live on land new-bought ; so 
 Master Zanalta took me and land for debt. He has 
 many others." 
 
 " And so have I, Venda, and life in my house is 
 not joyous as there in that of Zanalta where ladies 
 laugh. I have no beauty for you to serve." 
 
 " Master, I know what you have, many hands to 
 bear burdens, many feet to run swiftly ; but I know 
 what you need, one heart to be faithful, one whose 
 eyes see in the dark, one whose ears are ever awake 
 if danger hides near, one whose hand is ever ready 
 to grasp a knife for your cause, as as Venda did 
 but now, master." 
 
 She dropped her gaze under his sharp scrutiny ; 
 and her eyes filled with tears when he smiled 
 carelessly. 
 
 " To grasp a knife for me in the cause of peace? 
 Well, Venda, you do me honor to make choice of 
 me for master ; but I am growing old and slow of 
 thought ; I must have time before making decision. 
 Above all, I must speak to your master. So mean 
 while 
 
 He yet held in his jeweled fingers the piece of 
 gold drawn from his purse, more than the slave had 
 ever owned, perhaps, but she shook her head. 
 
 " Not your gold, master; so, master, good-night." 
 
 " A most strange one, truly," commented the 
 gentleman, pocketing again the money. " I venture 
 to say her twin has never been born. Pray you, did 
 either of you see the stiletto fall? I have seen 
 such feats among conjurers of the Far East, but it is 
 strange to see it in this new land and through an 
 untaught slave." 
 
" MASTER, BUY ME ! " 67 
 
 " She seems less ignorant than many," declared 
 the chevalier, " and her courage makes her a bit 
 wonderful, so it seems to us, at least ; but we are 
 new to your shores, and have much to grow accus 
 tomed to." 
 
 "You are, then, strangers? I judged as much; 
 and from France ? If so, we are like to meet again, 
 as the passports of strangers often need me for 
 approval. From France, you say? I am Victor 
 Lamort; all the towns-people know me. If I can 
 serve you, command me." 
 
 He did not wait their reply, or names, but bowed 
 like a courtier and walked away, touching his walk 
 ing-stick daintily as he went, and moving in haste, 
 as though too long delayed. 
 
 " There is a man I feel it would be well to meet 
 often, despite his name of gloom," said the chevalier. 
 " He walks like a soldier ; and did you note that scar 
 on the cheek? A battle-wound, I doubt not." 
 
 " Soldiers wear not golden buckles on their street- 
 boots," returned Constante; "and he must be a 
 most valiant warrior to earn with his sword such 
 jewels as gleam among his laces. If one can creep 
 from the ranks up to that in this country, I ll enlist. 
 But I fancy I would grow more pride with my 
 achievements than this grandly careless Monsieur 
 Lamort." And the fun-loving fellow strutted and 
 minced along as though he already bore jeweled 
 decorations, and his cane was flourished as though 
 it were a symbol of sovereignty. 
 
 " Modest? Yes, he is that; but it seems in him 
 a stamp of true greatness. There is a wondrous 
 
68 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 fascination for me in this gray-bearded dignitary. 
 Did you note his musical voice ? " 
 
 " There, there, Maurice to fall in love once in 
 an evening is enough for even me; but you lose 
 your heart on one corner to a gray nun, and a few 
 paces farther yield to the fascinations of a scarred 
 veteran. For my part, I was both bewitched and 
 frightened by the brown dame who uses knives as 
 playthings, and can scatter a mob as though she were 
 a breath of pestilence. The black witch, I heard 
 some call her. Faith ! I will be . sworn she is one ; 
 and she d go begging for a master many a day ere 
 I d consent to make purchase of her." 
 
 And the one called the " voudou " and the " black 
 witch " moved on through the gloaming and the 
 soft breath which falls over the earth when the new 
 moon shines. She was not yet old, but her step 
 dragged heavily ; no one looking on the white hair 
 could have pictured her as ever having been that 
 passionate bright-haired creature who had lived for 
 a season as royal favorite in the days of Gaston le 
 Noyens. 
 
 A judgment had come upon her in the silence of 
 her own heart. Untrained savage though she was, 
 the memory of poor dead Mistress Felice, and more, 
 the lover of Felice those two ghosts of the past 
 days arose before her in the shadows or in the sun 
 shine and held her very soul in their grasp, filling 
 her life with a remorse unexpressed and unexpress- 
 ible. 
 
 Thus it was that she walked ever alone in the 
 midst of the other blacks, who sang and who danced, 
 
" MASTER, BUY ME ! " 69 
 
 choosing mates, and laughing at times through their 
 toil ; but she toiled unsmiling. 
 
 Once only had she been heard to laugh aloud in 
 the home of her new master, where she and many 
 others of the Le Noyens plantation had been taken 
 in payment of a debt to Zanalta. 
 
 And that one day of laughter had been one to 
 remember in the household; for scornful Pepito, who 
 was half white, had jeered tauntingly at fine high 
 Lady Felice, who, it was whispered, had mated to her 
 shame with the river ruffian exiled to the mines as 
 an assassin. 
 
 And then had Venda laughed laughed as one 
 who goes to a festival and had leaped straight at 
 the throat of frightened Pepito, and clung there 
 until they cut her fingers with knives, and tore her 
 loose only when two men lifted her bodily and bore 
 her thus with her bleeding fingers into the presence 
 of her new master. 
 
 " Yes, I strangled Pepito, but not dead, because 
 they were fools and dragged me away. She-devil, 
 Pepito ; say my little mistress bad, wicked ; she say 
 Master Basil bad, assassin that is why." 
 
 And Diego Zanalta looked strangely on those 
 bleeding fingers, so the men who guarded her said, 
 and looked strangely in her dark, desperate face, 
 but uttered no word of chiding. 
 
 " Did you think I would kill you if you killed 
 Pepito?" he asked. "No, Venda; I would have 
 you whipped many times, but I would not let them 
 kill you. Remember that, girl." 
 
 Then he turned to the men. 
 
70 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Tell Pepito she will go to the rice fields if I ever 
 again hear her say ill words of a white lady. Go 
 now, but leave Venda here." 
 
 And they did so, but watched curiously for her 
 appearance. Diego Zanalta with his cool words was 
 feared more by the blacks than any master who 
 would storm and threaten, and many had prophesied 
 that the new woman who had tried to kill poor 
 Pepito would surely fare ill at his hands. They 
 never thought to see her again in the rooms of the 
 house. 
 
 But she walked through them all in insolent silence. 
 They could read neither defeat nor triumph in her 
 slumbrous eyes, but the silver anklets still made 
 music when she walked, her bodice and petticoat 
 were of linen, the scarf she wore was yet a thing of 
 silk and scarlet ; so no outward sign of glory had 
 departed from her. 
 
 " She is a devil voudou, she has put a charm on 
 the master," whispered the others, though they 
 dared not say aught of their fancies in her presence. 
 Others there were of the slaves who would be proud 
 to be spoken of as favorite, but she was different ; 
 she never smiled, and she made them afraid. 
 
 Sometimes they fancied she made the master 
 afraid too, for as the days went by they noted that 
 he never asked of her personal service ; that she 
 served his guests but never the master himself at 
 table ; that she never knowingly entered a room 
 where he was alone, and if by chance she did, one or 
 the other would immediately depart. Once when he 
 was ill for a space, the physician sent cordials and 
 
" MASTER, BUY ME ! " 71 
 
 instructions by her to him. His oaths were emphatic 
 as he bade his serving-man never to open the door 
 to her, and all through one delirious night he mut 
 tered, " Venda, Venda," and begged that she would 
 not be allowed to look at him so. 
 
 Yet he kept her, and thus began the whispers of 
 witchcraft ; and she kept their fancies alive by many 
 strange cures performed by her. If any living 
 thing was likely to bleed to death, Venda, instead of 
 a priest or physician, was called, and with the touch 
 of her hands and a few muttered words the blood 
 would cease to flow. Let the friends say what they 
 would, both the white and the black people went to 
 her for charms, and bought from her the little vials 
 of serpent s-oil with which to cure strange aches in 
 the bones after the fever had been with them. 
 Even the Indian slaves, taken of old from the 
 Natchez tribe, would nod approval of her cures, and 
 call her the silent medicine-woman. 
 
 But for all the help she gave, there were many 
 who feared to pass her in the road when the dusk 
 fell, and as her silk-turbaned hair turned so swiftly 
 to the color of age they called her devil-marked. 
 And that evening when she had begged to be 
 bought by a new master, she walked as usual, silent, 
 through the streets, and never noted the awesome 
 glances cast at her as the natives muttered of the 
 stiletto yet in the air above their heads "a good 
 stiletto," said friends of the owner; "and who was 
 to pay for it ? " 
 
 But heavier thoughts than that of the stiletto 
 weighed her brain. She scarce heeded when her 
 
72 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 steps brought her to the grounds of Zanalta, and 
 would have passed the gate but for black Gourfi, 
 who hailed her. 
 
 " Do you walk under a charm that you pass the 
 master s door and not know ? " he demanded. " Here 
 have they waited, the Mistress Ninon and old Mis 
 tress Mercedes, for you to finish their decking for 
 the fete, and you strolling the streets just to hear 
 your ankle-bands tinkle though you will never 
 take a mate to dance to their music." And he looked 
 at her meaningly, for Gourfi, who could speak well 
 the language of the whites, was in much a steward 
 to his master, and he found Venda good to look 
 upon, seeing no reason why she should be proud 
 w T ith him though she scorned the others. 
 
 But she seemed not to note who spoke, only asked, 
 " Have they departed ? " 
 
 "That they have, with Sandro and Bula to carry 
 the train of old mistress, and she scolding every step 
 to the chair and vowing master must sell you. Si ! 
 but she was in a fine rage ! She ll speak to master, 
 be sure of it. Do you never care, Venda ? " 
 
 " No, I never care." And she walked into the house 
 and left him there watching her sullenly. 
 
 " If I was white if I had gold, Gourfi should be 
 her master. There is none like her among our 
 people. She looks from her eyes like the red Indian 
 slaves, whose race they say did once own these lands ; 
 just like them when they are angry, and silent 
 always silent. Voudou ! I care not for the devil 
 charms if she would but look on me." 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 73 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 
 
 BLACK GOURFI was entirely correct in his state 
 ment that Senora Mercedes Sofie Zanalta was in a 
 fine rage, for so she was, truly. Even the magnifi 
 cence of the new sedan-chair, in which she was 
 borne, did nothing to temper her chagrin, and 
 against the " black faces," singly and in a body, did 
 she exclaim. 
 
 " Oh, aunt, be patient!" entreated Ninon, wearily. 
 " Since you look so magnificent, what matters it 
 whose hands laced your bodice, or clasped the 
 plumes in your hair? I know T they ll be much 
 admired, even by the ladies. And as for Monsieur 
 Lamort well, he is a bachelor, but I dare hope no 
 longer than his eyes rest on you. Come, now ; think 
 no longer of a careless slave, but please your mind 
 with prospects of the fete we are about to enjoy. 
 Few will gather there wearing so fine a gown, I 
 promise you." 
 
 " Si ! the costume is good enough ; the catching of 
 the folds with roses is a trick of Madrid days the 
 saints be blest for the memory of them ! and the 
 veil I decided to wear was a fancy of my illustrious 
 husband St. Jago care for his soul ! He ever liked 
 me to revive our day of wedding by dressing as a 
 bride the good soul has seen but the brides of par 
 adise these thirty years but that devil, Venda ! 
 Think you Anite arranged the wig with the clever 
 ness of that cursed voudou? A pretty pass, a 
 
74 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 very pretty pass, when slaves come and go as they 
 like, and the word of a mistress weighs for nothing ! " 
 
 "But aunt " 
 
 "Seek not to dissuade me from my righteous 
 wrath. I tell you the girl shall be sold or sent to 
 the fields ere another blessed day of God calls us to 
 the chapel. There are other lands than this Louisi 
 ana, and if Diego Zanalta were ten times the brother 
 of my husband, I take charge of his house no longer 
 unless that insolent one is banished to the fields." 
 
 " Insolent, Venda insolent ! Has she ever given 
 saucy speech to you ? " 
 
 " Can one only be insolent by words?" demanded 
 the irate lady; "her very silence is an insolence. 
 Ah, the quiet devil ! " 
 
 They had by this time reached the residence of 
 Lamort, and the blaze of many-colored lights and 
 the low-toned swing of the music made it a place 
 easily marked for enjoyment ; and from the arches 
 of the portico several gentlemen, among them their 
 host, came forward to give welcome to the fairest 
 dame, and the most exacting, that the town held. 
 
 Don Diego approached at the same moment from 
 another direction, but, wise man that he was, dis 
 cerned the frown on the brow of his brother s 
 respected relict, and held aloof until the compli 
 ments of gallants had softened her thoughts toward 
 mankind in general. 
 
 And compliments were seldom lacking for Senora 
 Mercedes, for was she not the outer gate to be capt 
 ured ere a courtier gained the inner tower where 
 Madame Ninon dwelt? 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 75 
 
 She even forgot for a space that provoking wench 
 Venda, as she was led into the mansion by that most 
 engaging Monsieur Lamort, and noticed with a 
 hearty satisfaction that all female eyes within range 
 were turned wonderingly on the rose-draped robe, 
 and on the girlish tissue of white falling from the 
 bewigged head. 
 
 But the name of Zanalta was powerful enough to 
 make amends for any eccentricity by its bearers ; 
 and if one could not do as he liked in this new land, 
 why come ? The scene was a thing semi-oriental in 
 its character; the dress French or Spanish of 
 the ladies, a few in the latest court robes, such as were 
 worn by Marie Antoinette and her maids at Ver 
 sailles, but more, many more, of an older date ; but 
 the unerring taste of the Frenchwomen made those 
 gowns things of grace, and buckles of diamonds fast 
 ened many a shoe over hosiery repaired so often 
 one could scarce find enough of the original material 
 to catch a needle-point in. Then there were half- 
 Moorish dresses of old Spain in rustling brocades 
 and flounced laces. The gentlemen in the gorgeous 
 dress of Louis XV. or the military dress of Spain ; 
 and back of those gracious ladies and gay gallants 
 glided the slaves in gala-dress, bare-armed, bare- 
 throated, wearing sandals lashed to their feet with 
 crimson bands, and necklets of bone and bright cop 
 per above their vestments of crimson and pale yel 
 low. Assuredly Monsieur Lamort understood how 
 to make even those black toilers picturesque. 
 He had brought fanciful ideas of such things from 
 abroad, learnt somewhere in those south seas of which 
 
76 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 he spoke at times, and from which he had brought 
 great white pearls and glimmering jewels, toward 
 which ladies looked languishingly. 
 
 And to-night he had surpassed even himself in 
 his effort to entertain the families of Orleans called 
 noble; and Senora Mercedes was not the only one 
 who had gathered up her dearest bravery for his 
 eye a good clear eye, that gleamed with rare 
 pleasure that night, and swept over the proud assem 
 blage with a glance which seemed to divine every 
 needed attention for a guest. 
 
 "I confess. Monsieur Lamort," said Diego Zan- 
 alta, as the wine of Oporto was served by deft- 
 handed slaves" I confess I tremble at the thought 
 of the desert we would yet be existing in here if 
 that lucky fight in the Floridas had not recom 
 mended us to your knowledge three years ago. We 
 colonists were fast selling ourselves as slaves to 
 commerce and financial advancement, forgetting in 
 our rush that the fine air of salons, after all, does 
 more to enliven the mind and brighten our faculties 
 than the weighing of gold in the market-places. 
 Ah, monsieur, your spirit of fine France has re 
 minded us that our homes may be made palaces 
 here, and cure us of our grieving for courts across 
 the water. Ladies, gentlemen, I salute you. To 
 the health of our host ! " 
 
 The eyes of their host twinkled with a humor sar 
 donic as he glanced over the gracious company 
 drinking to his health there in that Orleans, where 
 the laws of caste were strong as. in any court of 
 Europe. His bow and smiles confessed himself 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 77 
 
 flattered by their distinguished homage, but his 
 veiled eyes held sentiments unuttered by his lips. 
 
 " By my faith, sirs," he returned, " you are remind 
 ing me, by your mention of Florida, that we should 
 repeat many an Ave Maria on this day, in token that 
 we are so much better off than those in the swamps, 
 where the Seminole warriors did battle most wick 
 edly. Even now I can scarce see the black mud of 
 this delta without seeming also to hear the singing 
 of arrows and the wild yells of those savage men. 
 Yes, indeed, my friends, we are better here than we 
 were there." 
 
 "Yet you seemed equally at home in their war 
 fare," remarked a Monsieur Villeneuve, whose 
 youthful admiration for the scarred veteran was 
 apparent in his eyes. " That, my first battle, is a 
 memorable thing to me, especially as I shall always 
 carry with me the vision of your face as I saw it 
 first. It seems to me yet that you were really 
 laughing as you came to our relief across the sands, 
 and gave us and the savages an idea that you had 
 an army at your heels ; few of us would have seen 
 Orleans Island again but for you and your crew." 
 
 "And I might never have become one of your 
 citizens but for the chance that sent my little vessel 
 to the shore there that day. So you see it was I to 
 whom the saints were kind. I was a stranger to your 
 land, but you did not long allow me to remain so ; 
 and now well, the building up of a grand commer 
 cial center here has become a pet fancy of mine, and 
 I am proud to count myself as one of you. But I ask 
 pardon of the ladies for speaking of commerce ; we 
 
78 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 well know they dislike the term, and love only the 
 things it brings to us. Even you, Madame Villette, 
 you own a great warehouse ; but have you not made 
 us all wretched by stating that you will never give 
 your hand to a man who buys or sells in the market 
 places?" 
 
 " Then am I likely to walk alone forever on this 
 island," laughed Ninon, " for the gallants of Orleans 
 are all awake to the advantages of bargains." And 
 the latter part of her speech was discreetly mur 
 mured, and only Monsieur Lamort caught its mean 
 ing or understood the quizzical glance she gave 
 him ; and more than one of those ambitious gallants 
 would have given their youth for the smile of com 
 prehension she exchanged with the scarred veteran. 
 Assuredly, Madame Villette and Monsieur Lamort 
 appeared as good comrades. 
 
 " Oh, but I have a message to deliver here to-night," 
 she cried, suddenly; "I had well-nigh forgotten it, 
 but it has concern with other strangers from France 
 who arrived to-day, on the anniversary of your meet 
 ing with Orleans men, monsieur. And, Brother 
 Diego, I did entertain the commandant of the French 
 ship since I saw you. He came to ask leave of you 
 to present two strangers who sought names, or 
 a name, no longer found in our town. The com 
 mandant seems a good soul, and was anxious to 
 serve the strangers, whom he terms illustrious." 
 
 " And their names, Ninon ? " 
 
 11 Ah ! forgotten already by me, except that one is a 
 Chevalier something or other, and the second has 
 Constante for a part of the name. Beyond that I 
 have forgotten." 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 79 
 
 " You might as well have forgotten in the begin 
 ning," laughed her half-brother, " for we are little 
 the wiser. * Chevalier, of course, tells us somewhat. 
 Captain Nirosse ? Yes, his word is a good pledge. 
 I shall be glad to serve his passengers." 
 
 " Can you remember, madame, if the men were 
 young?" queried their host; and Madame Ninon 
 raised her hands in pretty dismay. 
 
 " Oh, monsieur ! when I have not even seen their 
 faces. The one thing I did hear of them their 
 names I have forgotten. So why ask of so simple 
 a person the impossible?" 
 
 " Be not distressed, madame ; I am only your host 
 this evening, not alcalde, so your evidence is 
 not an imperative necessity to the assembly. But 
 my question was not quite idle, either. This even 
 ing at sunset I met on the street Conde two stran 
 gers from France, most amiable in appearance, and 
 the thought came to me that they may be the ones 
 of whom you speak. Would I had known earlier 
 they were recommended to your interest, Don Diego ; 
 it would have been pleasure to have asked them 
 here this evening. One s first day in a strange land 
 is so often a lonely one." 
 
 " It is like you to remember that on this anni 
 versary," said one fair woman of France whose eyes 
 looked kindly on him, eyes aged through tears 
 instead of years a woman of an exiled family, and 
 whose two sons slept under myrtles there in the 
 sands of Orleans. The suns and the breath of the 
 swamps are often so hard on the new-comers. And 
 those two strangers? 
 
80 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Monsieur Latnort looked across at her, and, coming- 
 nearer, kissed her hand. 
 
 " Madame Vraumont, you help me to remember 
 something more, merely that it may not yet be too 
 kite to ask the presence of those gentlemen. What 
 say you, Don Zanalta? Would it please you, or 
 think you a messenger could find them the cheva 
 lier and Constante address, nowhere?" 
 
 "To be sure, and the thought is a kind one. 
 Through Captain Nirosse they can be found in less 
 than the half of an hour ; and, if they are disposed, 
 we can make their first evening a merry one if 
 indeed they prove not to be gray-heads who have 
 forsworn merriment." 
 
 " For my part, I fear much that is just what you 
 will find," sighed Madame Villette. 
 
 11 Well, whether gray or golden, we will send the 
 message. Don Zanalta, will you word it?" And 
 Monsieur Lamort signaled a slave, who stepped 
 forward. 
 
 "Sebastian, you know where the sailor captains 
 are to be found when ashore?" 
 
 " Yes, master, where many are ; and one can 
 always tell where another may be." 
 
 " Good ! Go there ; ask for Captain Nirosse of the 
 French ship Celestine, just arrived in the harbor. 
 Give to him the letter, and conduct here the gentle 
 men he may command you to. Take carriage, and 
 be swift." 
 
 "Yes, master." 
 
 Don Zanalta came forward with the note he had 
 written and passed it to his host for approval. 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 81 
 
 "Very good. Surely, if they are disposed to be 
 on good terms with Orleans, they can not resist the 
 courtesy of your words ; and as there is yet room 
 for another name, I shall add that of Victor 
 Lamort." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, monsieur. You are very gracious." 
 
 " Not at all. Your guests are welcome under my 
 roof, and as this is the anniversary of my own meet 
 ing with the gentlemen here, why not celebrate it 
 more fully by gathering in other new-comers to 
 your shores ? And, by the way, Zanalta, speaking of 
 the gentlemen whom we hope Sebastian will bring- 
 back ; if they are the ones I met this evening I 
 have special cause to remember the occasion, because 
 of some one who was there, and who belongs to 
 you." 
 
 " Ah ! an adventure ; pray tell us ! " 
 
 " Only a quarrel for a knife at the door of a wine 
 shop. Two men struggled, yet their comrades were 
 so close no peacemaker could approach. I was 
 about to make an attempt to push through and sep 
 arate them one looked a mere boy when a slave 
 of yours bade me wait, stepped before me, reached 
 them as though she had been a spirit, and flung the 
 knife they fought for high in the air before the com 
 batants realized who had secured it. A most strange 
 woman for a black, but she tried to do me a service 
 there. I even feel tempted to offer you fair returns 
 for her if at any time you should choose to part with 
 her. I asked her name. She said Venda." 
 
 " Ah ! that black witch ! " broke in Senora 
 Mercedes, who drew near and heard the last of his 
 
 6 
 
82 A FLOWER OF FRANCE, 
 
 words ; " well might she serve you, who art a soldier, 
 and a brave commander of your own sea-vessel, but 
 to a lady she is very wearing- with her silence and 
 her tricks of witchery with which she affrights the 
 other slaves. Diego, I tell you plainly none other 
 will ever bid for her, and since you yourself love her 
 but little though you never will chide her I say, 
 take Monsieur Lamort at his word." 
 
 Don Zanalta sent one angered glance at her, but 
 his smile came quickly again. 
 
 "Your suggestion has at least one earnest advo 
 cate in my own household," he said, carelessly, to 
 Monsieur Lamort, "but I fancy the recommenda 
 tion my sister-in-law gives with it will not 
 strengthen your intent to purchase." 
 
 " On the contrary, those voudous, as they are 
 called, are an interesting study to me ; and is she 
 one ? I would find it easy to believe, for the knife 
 she threw in the air was not to be seen again." 
 
 " Oh, we have heard many tales of her," agreed 
 one of the ladies. " She is a strange creature, but she 
 does no ill." 
 
 " Except to my aunt s nerves," smiled Madame 
 Villette. " She is a most capable woman, but silent 
 and dreamy while the other blacks sing songs and 
 dance dances. I have no dislike for her, though I 
 certainly would be glad if she was taken away, sim 
 ply because of the antipathy my aunt feels for her." 
 
 Zanalta heard the words, and while the others 
 chattered of Venda and her strange ways, he was 
 thinking- quickly : 
 
 " Well, why not ? The money would come handy. 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 83 
 
 Those games with that infernal Rochelle have made 
 a difference with me. And, after all eighteen 
 years eighteen years I have kept her and feared 
 her; yes, curse her! that s the word, feared her. 
 And all for what ? She dare not speak ; reason tells 
 me that, Then why hesitate ? By the saints ! my 
 mind is settled on it; she shall go." 
 
 It seemed as though Monsieur Lamort as well as 
 Venda was gifted with occult powers, for just at the 
 finish of Zanalta s reasoning he came forward smil 
 ing, as though he knew the result. 
 
 "Well, Don Zanalta, is the voudou to weave her 
 spells in my house instead of yours?" he asked, 
 nonchalantly, " If so, name the amount, and I ll 
 free Senora Zanalta from her bctc noire" 
 
 " Yes "- - and Don Diego spoke with haste of one 
 who was afraid he might repent "yes; it is a 
 strange sale and conducted quickly, I never meant 
 to sell her, though I have had many a war in the 
 house because of her. But she may amuse you, She 
 is strange some say mad so I give you warning ; 
 but she will work well, Yes, she can be very useful, 
 if she chooses, and she is yours at your word." 
 
 Victor Lamort bowed to the agreement. " I will 
 have an article drawn up at any time, to-night as 
 well as another. I fancy her looks. She will make 
 a strange picture in the house. I never saw so 
 young a negress with white hair." 
 
 " It is because of that the other slaves call her 
 devil-marked. But, pardon me, is that not the return 
 of your carriage ? " 
 
 For wheels had just rolled over the shell-lined 
 
84 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 drive, and Zanalta had scarcely spoken when Sebas- 
 tien announced, " Master Chevalier Delogne, Master 
 Constante Raynel," and Victor Lamort went forward 
 to greet the strangers. 
 
 " It is as I fancied you do not come to my house 
 as strangers, gentlemen, for have we not met earlier 
 this evening ? And here is Don Zanalta. It is a 
 pleasure to me that you meet under my roof." 
 And Maurice Delogne found himself looking again 
 into the eyes of the man who had attracted him so 
 strongly but a short time before, and Constante 
 drew a long breath of pure delight at the semi- 
 barbaric surroundings. 
 
 "Ah, messieurs, for a year and a day am I your 
 bond-slave in payment for this evening s glimpse of 
 paradise. See ! I bend my neck for the yoke a 
 year and a day ! " 
 
 Don Zanalta liked more thoroughly the light chat 
 ter of the artist than the more level-eyed youth, who 
 spoke graciously but with less extravagance. 
 
 " He is but a day in your land," smiled Delogne, 
 warningly ; " and lest you, not knowing, take him at 
 his word, let me confess that he is vassal to so 
 many things of impulse that I should fear to vouch 
 for his faithfulness to one." 
 
 " Is not my name Constante? " 
 
 " Would it have been had they waited a few years 
 for your christening ? But aside from this badinage, 
 gentlemen, pray believe that we feel deeply the 
 kindness you have been pleased to show us. To 
 strangers in a strange land, a hand that welcomes 
 means so much." 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 85 
 
 " We have all learned that lesson on these shores, 
 Monsieur Chevalier," assented Lamort. " So few of 
 us were born here that we have all been strangers 
 in the land on some day of our lives. We but give 
 to you from Orleans that which Orleans has granted 
 to us, and that which no doubt you yourself will 
 give in the future to a later comer. But come, I 
 would like to have you meet others of my guests, 
 and you see they have followed the music and left 
 my palm-room." 
 
 Constante was at the same moment exchanging 
 bows with Villeneuve, and" a little later, when these 
 two were left alone for a space, they proceeded, 
 after the fashion of youth, to become at once well 
 acquainted. 
 
 " My faith, monsieur, do you all live like princes 
 in this romantic land of exile? Is our host the 
 reigning sovereign ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; though perhaps an heir apparent who 
 knows ? He is, they say, a power beside the throne 
 here, if not behind it ; at least one thought well of, 
 and deserving of it all. There was a time in this 
 colony when people of France were not in high 
 favor ; but it is said that Victor Lamort has swept 
 away every lingering prejudice in the space of 
 three years. To be of the mother church and of 
 sufficient age and intelligence are all the requisites 
 to position here now. French and Spanish alike con 
 trol the town and guard against their common 
 enemy, the English." 
 
 " Ah ! then the spirit of war is abroad here as 
 well as on the shores of Europe ? " 
 
86 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 "Well yes but whispers, whispers only. The 
 English smugglers are causing much trouble slip, 
 ping into our ports on every thin-veiled excuse. 
 You see our civilized neighbors cause us more 
 trouble than the savage people." 
 
 Constante s eyes were busy noting the strange 
 feathery foliage of palms, and catching now and 
 then glimpses of women s dresses through the 
 green, 
 
 " By my own vision of things you seem to have few 
 troubles here beyond finding the days long enough 
 for your pleasures, and you certainly have nymphs 
 of the tropics to assist you. There goes a face that 
 is enchanting. See the one looking this way, 
 moving there beside the lady with the hum ! 
 ahem ! the bridal-veil over her tresses." 
 
 Villeneuve smiled at the enthusiasm of the 
 stranger, a little pleased to see that Orleans had 
 beauty remarkable even compared with beauty of 
 the French court. 
 
 " Ah, there is golden treasure as well as bright 
 eyes in that group, Monsieur Raynel. It is Madame 
 Villette, the wealthiest widow in the province 
 slaves of her own by the hundred, and vessels of 
 her own on the waters. The other is her relative, 
 Senora Mercedes Zanalta. A good old Spanish 
 name is hers ; but, alas ! she has no gold to gild it." 
 
 " Alas ! " echoed Constante, unconsciously ; for in 
 his own mind he knew at once it was the uncomely 
 old woman who was the wealthy widow, and it was 
 the childish-faced sylph who had only the ancient 
 lineage did not the fates always divide favors in 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 87 
 
 just that miserable way? And yet how charming 
 was that bearer of the ungilded lineage ! 
 
 And at the first opportunity he did a thing very 
 remarkable for Constante. He did not seek presen 
 tation, but slipped alone where the palms were thiek, 
 and where he could see all the room, and couples 
 saluting each other in stateliest fashion, with many 
 a gracious curve of body and many an arch erecting 
 of proud head. And his eyes would wander ever to 
 the dainty grace of that figure in the rose-color 
 and silver tissue, and from her white unjeweled 
 throat he would glance toward the more matured 
 charms of Donna Mercedes, and note the gemmed 
 buckles glinting as she moved. 
 
 And then h? would sigh like a furnace, and assure 
 himself for the hundredth time that he had met 
 fate ; and that it was very hard, in the face of his late 
 decision to wed wealth, that he should meet on 
 the first threshold he crossed a being to tempt him 
 from every wise decision he had ever made. The 
 temptation of St. Anthony bah ! it was trifling, he 
 knew, compared with his own. 
 
 So he assured himself. He was in his imagina 
 tion striving to renounce the one and offer his 
 hand to the other, yet had never spoken to either of 
 them in his life ! 
 
 Oh, love! love! that spirit binding us with a 
 chain of glances from bright eyes, and bringing to 
 us instincts of knowledge deeper than all the philos- 
 ophies. A wild folly when it is another man the 
 madness touches, but a soul s tragedy when it 
 touches ourselves. 
 
88 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 How many a heart lives more fully in visions of 
 what might be than in the life men call the real ! 
 
 vSo if jovial Constante chose for a space to let his 
 thoughts wander in the strange paths of imagina 
 tion well, he was not the first beggar to claim 
 riches from such a source. To be sure, he would 
 marry the widow, despite his sighs for that lovely 
 kinswoman, for Monsieur Raynel was a gentleman 
 of thrifty instincts. Yet, just for the present, ere he 
 had addressed either, how comforting to fancy that 
 the beauty in rose-color owned the slaves and the 
 ships, and that he, Constante, was commander of all ! 
 
 And a sigh, earnest as any Romeo s, touched the 
 palms because of the sweetness within vision, but 
 toward which he must never reach. 
 
 And he courageously turned his eyes to the more 
 matured dame of the golden buckles. There, he 
 knew, was the path for him. Had not he asked for 
 that ? Well, when the saints are kind is it not wise 
 to accept what they send ? Assuredly. 
 
 Constante had devoted this five minutes of his life 
 to a bit of serious contemplation, and arose from it 
 with the grim design of being presented to that 
 widow within the earliest time possible, and then 
 well, trust to Dame Fortune and youth s audacity. 
 
 Maurice, who met him a few moments later, 
 looked at him wonderingly. It was a strange thing 
 for Constante to creep thus modestly from sight, 
 especially if there were ladies to pay court to. 
 
 " What ! you, Constante Raynel, alone there in 
 the garden when all this feast of beauty is spread 
 before your eyes? Why, sir; does it mean that 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 89 
 
 you have closed your book of French folly, and com 
 mence here to peruse the leaves of the New World s 
 wisdom? You are certainly courageous to com 
 mence a reform in the midst of such temptations. 
 Did you note the ladies I spoke to just now? They 
 are most gracious, and Madame Villette has com 
 missioned me to present you." 
 
 Madame Villette?" And Raynel arose with a 
 resigned air and went to meet his fate. 
 
 He met first the entrancing eyes of Ninon. 
 Heavens! she was looking at him at him out of 
 all the room, and looking at him exactly as if there 
 was not another man within a mile. 
 
 " She is adorable," he muttered to himself, and 
 immediately added, " Don t be a fool, Raynel." 
 
 Then he heard the names Senora Zanalta, Madame 
 Villette, and he was bowing to two ladies, and try 
 ing, for his own soul s sake, to avoid the glances 
 of the prettiest, and offered his arm to the veil- 
 bedecked lady while he tried vainly to comfort his 
 heart by gazing on those diamond buckles. 
 
 But if you are young, need I tell how lightly dia 
 monds weigh when one longs instead for the touch 
 of a loved hand. And if you are old well, the old 
 have memories. 
 
 So Constante, on his newly adopted path of wis 
 dom, walked on thorns, and never came so near to 
 hating Maurice as when that gallant led the one 
 adorable into the place of the feast and sat himself 
 at her side, wickedly thoughtless as to his comrade 
 and the dowager. 
 
 But Ninon was not so careless. Her eyes were 
 
90 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 big with wonder as she noted the devout attentions 
 won by her kinswoman from that handsome young 
 stranger -for that he was handsome was a thing 
 quickly decided by her. She even felt that her eyes 
 must have betrayed to him her opinion when their 
 glances met, and her face grew warm at the thought, 
 for had he not turned deliberately from her and 
 given his attention to Donna Mercedes? Did he 
 mean, then, to ignore the beauties of Orleans, and 
 show his indifference by paying court to one of the 
 most antique ? 
 
 Ninon s silvered slipper tapped the floor to em 
 phasize her own thoughts. Ah ! how she would 
 like to teach that Monsieur Indifference one lesson ! 
 Just to bring that handsome head to her feet for 
 once one little minute. Of course she would 
 laugh at him then, and dismiss him, Yes, she would 
 teach him not to slight a lady who had so kindly 
 suggested that he be presented. Ah, the ingrate ! 
 But how handsome he was, and what bright things 
 he was saying to Senora Mercedes and Monsieur 
 Villeneuve. 
 
 And Madame Ninon Villette forgot the Chevalier 
 Delogne who was beside her, and strained her ears 
 to hear the words of the ingrate who would not look 
 at her. 
 
 Alas ! Ninon ; all sweethearts pray for her ! 
 
 But Maurice did not feel especially neglected, even 
 though the lovely widow did note Constante s words 
 more than his own, for Monsieur Lamort was near 
 enough for speech, and the younger man listened to 
 his words with great interest. 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 91 
 
 Some one was speaking of a ghostly craft seen by 
 black sailors on the river but a short time before a 
 phantom of the starlight, over which the masters 
 were laughing. 
 
 " Those are bad subjects to humor the blacks in," 
 decided Monsieur Lamort; "they are so credulous, 
 and one will frighten another, so that in a short 
 space a whole plantation will be panic-stricken. I 
 strive to reason with them in such matters, and if 
 that fails I try ridicule. I find they do not like to 
 be laughed at." 
 
 " Then you think, of course, the return of the dead 
 is a thing ridiculous ?" asked Don Zanalta, with a 
 degree of earnestness noticeable after the careless 
 chatter. 
 
 " I ? " queried Monsieur Lamort. " Well, there is 
 much to consider in that question. And did not the 
 Son of Mary come back to be seen of man after the 
 tomb was sealed ? Yet the blacks in their ignorance 
 should not be given that knowledge ; their minds 
 are too childish to grasp the reasons for it." 
 
 " But I mean men of to-day, not of the past," 
 persisted Zanalta. " Suppose a man vows to him 
 self that he will return, and bends all his thoughts 
 to that end, think you he could win the power? " 
 
 " To make such a vow a person must have an all- 
 absorbing purpose, at least so it seems to me ; and 
 whether or not he could gain tha,t power would, I 
 think, depend on whether or not that purpose was a 
 thing just in the eyes of God." 
 
 Zanalta looked at him a moment, and then said, 
 
92 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 carelessly, " Well, I have heard sailors and soldiers 
 tell strange stories of those who return." 
 
 "And I too," asserted his host; "but I fancy the 
 ghost most men see is conscience. And if a shadow 
 in the moonlight takes the form of a person who 
 once lived, it is sure not to be a stranger, but one 
 whom we have sometime wronged." 
 
 The wine-glass slipped from the fingers of 
 Zanalta and broke on the white floor. The wine 
 splashed and lay like a thin rivulet of blood at his 
 feet. 
 
 " I am growing clumsy in my old age," he said, 
 and laughed; but in the same breath he added, 
 :< The glass scratched my hand. It is a trifle, but 
 wounds are not pleasant things to keep at table. 
 Will you pardon me ? " 
 
 His host bowed assent, but watched him curiously 
 as he arose. Monsieur Lamort had very sharp 
 eyes, yet could detect no wound on the wrist, where 
 the handkerchief was pressed quickly, and his gaze 
 followed his guest, who disappeared amid the 
 palms. 
 
 " A prick of a pin is as annoying in time of peace as 
 a sword-thrust in the heat of battle," he remarked. 
 
 But Colonel Durande, who sat near, looked across 
 knowingly, and spoke more lowly. 
 
 " Poor Diego encourages conversation on that 
 theme, though I fancy he is never the happier for it. 
 You see, Monsieur Lamort, there is a story, known to 
 the older people here, a tragical story, in which he 
 had a slight part nothing to his discredit, you 
 understand, only he was threatened with after-life 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 93 
 
 vengeance by a murderer of this town whom his 
 evidence sent to the galleys, or rather the mines ; 
 and I really fancy he thinks of it at times and grows 
 morbid." 
 
 " Indeed, one can imagine Don Zanalta in any 
 role rather than the tragical. He seems so gener 
 ally in tune with everything that is bright and 
 joyous." 
 
 " You are right. But his memory plays him tricks, 
 no doubt, as it does with us all at times. And it was 
 really a very sad story. A lady of high degree who 
 stooped to be loved by one of the canaille, a shame 
 ful love affair, and the lady s guardian was mur 
 dered by the lover one day in this very garden. 
 Does not that interest you, Monsieur Lamort ? You 
 are living on the stage of a former tragedy." 
 
 " But what part did Don Zanalta play in it, if I 
 may ask ? " 
 
 " He was the friend of the murdered guardian, 
 and saw the crime committed. More, the lady was 
 intended by their families to be his wife ; so it was 
 said, at least. But she died a recluse soon after the 
 man was sentenced. Some say she went mad. Any 
 way, an aged relative removed her to a plantation 
 near the Acadians, and she ended her life there. A 
 sad story ; and a girl so beautiful one can but wonder 
 that evil would lurk in her mind." 
 
 " Yes ; I heard a crime had been done here. The 
 blacks speak of it, and shun one path when the dusk 
 falls. But Don Zanalta said naught of it to me. You 
 know I made purchase of the place from him." 
 
 " Yes, I remember. I was one of the judges on 
 
94 A FLOWER OF FRANCE, 
 
 that trial, and remember also the settlement of the 
 estates, You see, as I said before, Diego and Le 
 Noyens, the murdered man, were close comrades, 
 But Le Noyens lived wild and fast, and many purses 
 of gold had Diego filled for him some over the 
 gaming-table, for Zanalta dearly loves the excite 
 ment of play. At any rate, when the end came it 
 became known that Gaston had given mortgage to 
 Diego for many acres and many slaves ; and thus 
 it was that Zanalta held this property until you took 
 him at his word and made purchase of it." 
 
 In other parts of the i^oom gay words and soft 
 laughter sounded. Villeneuve was beside Ninon, 
 and they were chatting with much spirit, and both 
 laughing a little when they would look at Senora 
 Mercedes, who was rapidly growing as girlish as. her 
 attire under the attentions of the bronzerhaired 
 stranger whose tones were so caressing. 
 
 And Maurice, freed from attendance on any of the 
 fair ones, was pleased to listen to the story thus 
 strangely started a romance of these rooms where 
 gay companions laughed, He had not expected to 
 find romances in the new homes of Orleans, 
 
 " And you were one of those who sentenced the 
 criminal ? " he asked, speaking to Colonel Durande. 
 "I always felt pardon me if I give offense 
 but I feel that, honorable as that position is, I would 
 never wish to fill it. Suppose one should condemn 
 innocent people sentence them to death, perhaps, 
 and learn long after it was unjust, I have read of 
 such things." 
 
 " So have I," smiled the colonel ; " we see such 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. !)f> 
 
 things in romances, but I have not yet met them in 
 life. Yes, I helped to convict Basil de Bayarde, 
 and all the town thought he was lucky not to be 
 executed instead of exiled, In fact, it was to the 
 clemency of Diego Zanalta that he owed his life, 
 for Zanalta opposed execution, Some of the people 
 claimed he should be whipped, as a warning to 
 other aspiring rangers who might fancy a lady s 
 love instead of seeking mates where they belong 
 among the canaille; but that favor was not paid to 
 popular opinion, so he was not whipped, but only 
 sent to the mines for life," 
 
 " De Bayarde ? " repeated Mattrice, who seemed to 
 have heard only the name 4i De Bayarde ? Pardon 
 me, but in France that name is of the nobles, not of 
 the people. Who was the man ? " 
 
 " A ranger of the river, a player of the mandolin, 
 an Indian-fighter, and a conjurer in the game of 
 love, since he bewitched the fairest lady of this 
 province," answered Colonel Durande, lightly ; in 
 fact, the sort of adventurer whose stories read so 
 prettily when set to rhyme, but whom prosaic, 
 respectable people ever avoid." 
 
 Maurice laughed, and glanced from the colonel to 
 his host. 
 
 " I very much fear, then, that I am entering your 
 Orleans under a cloud," he said ; " for, gentlemen, I 
 must confess that the only letter of introduction I 
 have with me is from my aunt, the Marquise de 
 Lescure, and is to an old friend of hers called De 
 Bayarde." 
 
 Both gentlemen showed their surprise, and the 
 
96 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 colonel looked frankly uncomfortable. Assuredly 
 Chevalier Delogne was lacking in the tact of a poli 
 tician. 
 
 " Our theme was unfortunate, Chevalier ; I am dis 
 tressed that I may have made music unpleasant for 
 you. I beg your pardon." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Monsieur le Colonel," returned the 
 other, quickly ; " the coincidence of name is but a 
 jest to laugh at, after all, for the man I seek is not 
 named Basil, and if living he must be quite an old 
 man now. His name is Hector Hector de Bayarde." 
 
 "Was Hector," said the colonel; "but that was 
 many years ago, Chevalier before you were born, 
 no doubt, for he died during the insurrection of 68. 
 
 " Little wonder, then, that you failed to find his 
 address," remarked Monsieur Lamort. " And was 
 he also an adventurer ? " 
 
 u On the contrary," answered the colonel, with 
 decision, " he was a soldier and a patriot. It was 
 a name the Frenchmen here liked to remember. 
 Old men still like to speak of him as a martyr to a 
 lost cause. The saints were good to him that he 
 was not allowed to live for exile and imprisonment 
 such as the others of that revolution lived through. 
 Only of late I was searching old records of the 
 French occupancy, and noticed his name and the 
 list of properties confiscated by the Spanish ruler, 
 for you know all lands and slaves of the revolution 
 leaders were added to the properties of the crown, 
 and used at the pleasure of the governor-general." 
 
 " No, I was not aware of it ; neither, I am sure, was 
 my aunt the marquise. I have not yet examined 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 97 
 
 the papers intrusted to me, but know from her word 
 that Monsieur de Bayarde was one whom she knew 
 well in her youth ; more, that in some way she 
 blamed herself for his exile, and even sent to him a 
 sum of money through a friend, hoping that she 
 would not be suspected as the giver. The money 
 was given with the suggestion that he live as 
 beseemed his station ; but his senses must have 
 been keen, for he detected the plot, and wrote her he 
 had purchased the estate, but for her, not for himself 
 or rather had taken it in his own name, and would 
 forward the papers of transfer as soon as they could 
 be executed. Well, the papers never reached the 
 marquise ; nevertheless she is confident they were 
 sent, for his word was given. But ships were few in 
 those days some were lost, and much that was val 
 uable went down, including, perhaps, De Bayarde s 
 message. And then there was a marquis at that 
 time, and rumor has it that he was most watchful of 
 his fair bride, or any message that came near her ; 
 so who knows? I am here to please my aunt, and 
 whether I find him or no, I am to remain a space 
 and study the new land and my fitness for it. I con 
 fess I feel that I am simply searching for the sequel 
 to an old lady s romance, but so charming an old lady 
 that I am quite willing to swear myself her knight. 
 And, in truth, had I been in De Bayarde s shoes, I 
 should have stolen her in her youth, and not crossed 
 the seas alone ; for she was only a betrothed at that 
 time, and not a wife." 
 
 " I feel like an audience of one, for whom you and 
 Colonel Durande are reading romances of* the past 
 
98 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 this evening," said their host, who seemed closely 
 interested in Maurice and his mission. " But is it 
 not strange that through all these years the mar 
 quise should never have learned of his death ? " 
 
 " Scarcely ; her life has been that of a nun ever 
 since I remember. Only this past year, and at my 
 entreaty, did she return to court. But, monsieur, I 
 beg many pardons for thus filling your evening 
 with my family history. I scarce know how it 
 began, but I am sure it will end with your other 
 guests crying out against my selfishness." 
 
 " From only Madame Villette must we crave 
 grace," answered Monsieur Lamort. " All the rest 
 are too far away to be affected by our withdrawal 
 from their gaiety. Madame, will you pardon us for 
 daring to spend five minutes talking of a lady across 
 the seas when you yourself were within hearing ? 
 We are very humble, and willing to drink any num 
 ber of glasses to your health, if you will but take us 
 into favor once more." 
 
 Ninon nodded, and smiled her assent, inwardly 
 thinking, " A toast then of course he must look 
 this way for an instant, and I will seem not to know 
 he is in the room." 
 
 And Monsieur Lamort arose and asked his guests 
 to drink with him to the health and happiness of 
 Ninon Madame Villette ; and the readiness of all 
 was shown by the smiles directed to charming 
 Ninon. 
 
 There was only one exception. The exception 
 was Monsieur Raynel, who, to be sure, met his host s 
 proposition with a smile, but, strangely enough, 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 99 
 
 looked into the eyes of Senora Mercedes when he 
 lifted his glass, and drained it as though it were a 
 love-potion longed for eagerly. 
 
 And in truth poor Constante was having a glo 
 rious hour of it, and dared not let his glances wan 
 der lest they should never come back to linger on 
 the owner of those uncounted acres. 
 
 " And you are an artist ? " she asked, with the most 
 flattering surprise. " Ah, monsieur, you know not 
 to what a desert you have come ! Art ? the word 
 is forgotten here by any who ever knew its mean 
 ing. But I, well, I am from Madrid, and what need 
 to tell to you, an art lover, of the masterpieces there 
 on which I was used to gaze ? I have missed them 
 sadly here, and can promise you the sympathy of 
 one soul in this town, where alas that it should be 
 so! few people care for aught but a rush for 
 wealth." 
 
 " Sad indeed is it to see humanity waste its ener 
 gies in the pursuit of dross," agreed Constante, with 
 the most spirituclle expression his face was capable 
 of. " It is much to be lamented." 
 
 "Well may you say that, my dear Monsieur 
 Raynel. Indeed your whole manner of conversation 
 betrays you as a gentleman of most exemplary 
 thought. Believe me, I am indeed gratified to have 
 made your acquaintance, and trust we may continue 
 it in my own house, where you will be welcomed 
 most heartily." 
 
 " Ah, madame, you dazzle me with your kindness. 
 What return can a poor artist make for the exquis 
 ite pleasure you have given me ? To be met with 
 
100 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 sympathy for my work on the very threshold 
 of my life here sympathy from a lady such a 
 lady ! Madame, pardon me if I express poorly my 
 thanks ; but be sure your kind invitation will be 
 most gratefully accepted." 
 
 " I shall look forward, then, to many interesting 
 discussions on your chosen art. We possess some 
 examples of portrait-work that are not bad, but 
 nothing late, nothing of my own, in fact, since my 
 marriage, though I have several times contemplated 
 having one made. 
 
 " Ah, madame ! " and Constante looked at her, but 
 his voice, or his conscience, could take him no far 
 ther his meaning was interpreted by a sigh. 
 
 " Well, well, we will see," remarked Donna Mer 
 cedes, coquettishly, and showed by the half-prom 
 ise that the language of sighs was not forgotten by 
 her. u And our church here needs sadly the hand 
 of an artist. In fact, we have spoken more than 
 once of sending to Spain for one. So it may be of 
 substantial interest to you to call when your leisure 
 will permit. My brother-in-law, Don Zanalta, 
 whom you have met, has much power in such decis 
 ions here, and I will see that he is interested." 
 
 " Dear lady," and Monsieur Raynel s tones were 
 infinitely caressing, " it has been said that out of 
 the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh. I 
 turn infidel to that from this night, for to my lips 
 will come no words fit to thank you in." 
 
 And then the rascal gave silent thanks to the 
 saints because the guests were dispersing from the 
 table, and he could betake himself from the widow s 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSlEUR/^AMOfcr ,; 
 
 side for a few blessed minutes a liberty lie took 
 quick advantage of, and found himself a little later 
 beside Maurice, attempting a cigarette, and feeling 
 as tired as a man who has run a long race. 
 
 " Well ? " queried his friend, looking at him smil 
 ingly and speaking in the tone that asks, " How is 
 the world treating you? " 
 
 In fact, he himself had met so many things of 
 interest that he had well-nigh lost sight of Con- 
 stante. But that worthy was not disposed to be con 
 fidential. He scowled slightly at his questioner, and 
 gripped the cigarette until it was twisted past repair. 
 In fact, the mercenary path he had chosen seemed 
 filled with every conceivable annoyance ; and this 
 was only the beginning one short hour borrowed 
 from the paradise he assured himself he would ask 
 ere long of the gracious widow. For had she not 
 shown by her very flattering attention that no 
 advance of his would be thought presuming ? He 
 sighed even while he congratulated himself. 
 
 " You are a fool, a hopeless fool, Constante," he 
 growled to himself. "Is it not what you have 
 asked for money, wealth to last you all your life, 
 leisure with which to enjoy every gift of glorious 
 existence? And the owner of it ready to drop at 
 your touch like a ripe peach ugh ! overripe ! 
 That maddening girl with the eyes ! what is it her 
 concern ? Why must I feel her looking at me, even 
 though I do not see her ? And to look at me, too, 
 with that pretty curl of the lip the insolence of it ! 
 -but the charm of it! Suppose I should build a 
 little cabin, such as I could afford, and ask that por- 
 
A FIOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 tionless mademoiselle to enter it with me? Con- 
 stante, my boy, you are mad, quite mad. Heretofore, 
 however wild your plans may have been, the vision 
 of marriage has never entered into them. It is the 
 free air of this land getting into your brain like 
 wine, but it won t do, it won t do. The common- 
 sense thing for you, Constante, is to ask the widow 
 to go into church some fine morning, and thus settle 
 yourself for life. That will not fulfill your vision of 
 marriage, perhaps, but it will be a very sensible 
 arrangement. And those eyes? Ah, well, they 
 will- serve for a Madonna in the church I am to 
 adorn." 
 
 And a few moments later Delogne missed him 
 again, and found time, in the midst of his pleasures, 
 to wonder what contrary wind had struck Constante ? 
 To be sure, he was always a fellow of whims, but 
 not whims that left him silent and thoughtful where 
 others were gay. 
 
 But Maurice had pleasant things of his own inter 
 est to consider, and it was small wonder if he soon 
 forgot his friend s unusual manner, for Monsieur 
 Lamort had said, when they found themselves alone : 
 
 " Come to me to-morrow, my dear Chevalier, and 
 it may be I can help you to unravel this tangled 
 maze to which you are trying to find the clue. At 
 any rate, if you will so far honor me as to trust me 
 with the letters, I will advise you to the best of my 
 ability. In fact, I confess I feel an interest in your 
 welfare, and as it may be in my power to serve you, 
 I beg that you will at any time come to me freely. 
 No, do not thank me. You are of French blood ; so 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 103 
 
 am I. That alone is a bond on a strange shore ; and 
 you will no doubt often hear my house spoken of as 
 "the place of exiles." So you will be here to-mor 
 row? That is well." 
 
 And Maurice congratulated himself that he had 
 landed in America under a lucky star, for his meet 
 ings had been^nost successful. And that one meet 
 ing down there by the hospital near the river, and 
 the brave yet childish eyes of that girl ? He had 
 but to close his own eyes to see them yet. They had 
 drifted between himself and many another face that 
 evening. 
 
 But in the midst of his selfish reverie he heard 
 the faint cry of a woman near by. The musicians 
 were playing. No one else seemed to note it, and 
 he turned quickly toward the palms from which the 
 sound came. 
 
 But swift as he was, another was more swift, and 
 that other was Constante. Where he came from so 
 quickly was a mystery, but he was there ; in his 
 arms was a slight rose-draped figure and at his feet 
 a sputtering candle smoldered in its frills of paper, 
 now ashes. A smell of burnt silk was in the air, 
 and one wing-like sleeve was gone from Madame 
 Ninon s gown. 
 
 And the closeness of that embrace was explained 
 by the lady s danger, for without doubt the uncere 
 monious grasp had smothered the blazing sleeve, 
 and perhaps averted a very serious accident. 
 
 But at the voice of Maurice the two chief actors in 
 the little drama drew apart like a couple of culprits, 
 Constante white as a sheet, but Madame Villette 
 pink as the gown she wore. 
 
104 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 "I I was frightened, monsieur. I am so 
 sorry to have troubled you," she at last succeeded 
 in saying, but with her eyes on the floor. 
 
 " I beg pardon, mademoiselle, for approaching 
 you so roughly," murmured Constante, meekly, his 
 usually audacious gaze averted. He was so angry 
 with himself because his voice trembled, and he 
 could feel that his face was pale ; and there was 
 Maurice, too Maurice looking at him in wonder. 
 Did it not seem as though the very devils were in 
 league against him ? And his tongue seemed tied 
 fast. 
 
 But as Maurice was the only one whose wits were 
 under control, it was he who offered his arm to 
 Madame Ninon. 
 
 " It is most natural you should be frightened," he 
 assured her. " Permit me to conduct you to a seat. 
 Were you at all burned ? Can I do any service for 
 you ? " 
 
 " No, no. I am recovered quite. The wind 
 but blew the gauze of my sleeve across the chande 
 lier. Then it was quick flame, so quick it did not 
 scorch me, and then your friend did arrive ; and I 
 am distressed, monsieur I am indeed. Were his 
 hands not burned ? Pray go and see do not 
 trouble any one about me. I am heartily glad the 
 others did not hear my cry. I will await you here, if 
 you will but learn if he is hurt." 
 
 " Hurt? " repeated Constante when Maurice ques 
 tioned him. Then he opened his hands, looked at 
 them as if for the first time, picked from his sleeve 
 a shred of silk tissue and retained it in his fingers. 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 105 
 
 " Hurt? No ; a bit scorched, but that is all. What 
 concern had she with the candles that she must 
 festoon them with her draperies? Sacrc! There 
 must be an especial saint in these parts to look after 
 the simple." 
 
 " Fie ! That is by no means a gallant speech, my 
 friend. Come you, and let her see you are not 
 injured." 
 
 " I ? Not a step will I budge. She will find 
 plenty to give sympathy without me making longer 
 the list. I am going to the gardens." 
 
 And out into the lawn he did go, and no words 
 from his friend could prevent him or gain a reason 
 for his whims ; but after a space of loneliness there, 
 and more quiet thought than Constante generally 
 gave any question, the finale of his self-argument 
 was reached, by words not loud, but evidently 
 earnest. 
 
 And the words were, " To the devil may go the 
 diamond buckles ! " 
 
 And having confided that statement to himself, 
 he drew a long breath, as of a man who lets fall a 
 heavy load by the roadside, and walks on without it, 
 free. 
 
 When he saw her again she was seated demurely 
 between Maurice and Colonel Durande. Over her 
 shoulders lay a shawl of lace, and the burnt sleeve 
 was never missed, and the serenity of the evening 
 had not been disturbed by the others hearing of her 
 danger. 
 
 And farther away across the room sat the lady of 
 the diamond buckles. He was delighted to observe 
 
106 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 that she was circled by dowagers, and that no one 
 could be expected to approach. 
 
 He again felt Ninon s eyes on him. Ah, if she 
 knew he had meant to have those diamond buckles ! 
 How grotesque everything was ! 
 
 He approached Monsieur Lamort and Don Zanalta ; 
 the latter was laughing, and held a paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes, it is all satisfactory, and a good business for 
 us both, I suspect," he was saying. " Monsieur 
 Raynel, we may ask you to be witness to a swift 
 bargain we have made this night a droll thing to 
 do at a feast, but why not ? " 
 
 11 And you say she can dance, this very peculiar 
 slave ? " asked Monsieur Lamort ; but the other 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Ninon says so I have never seen her ; but it 
 is no doubt simply extravagant postures such as the 
 Africans use before their idols in their own land. 
 Yet if she were here she should show you. It would 
 be an amusing thing, at least, to see her, and a 
 novelty for the ladies." 
 
 Indeed, yes; we should have thought of it 
 sooner. There are so few diverisons or amusements 
 in this town. Would she were here." 
 
 And Constante nearly fell over a great vase of 
 blossoms when close to him a voice said : 
 
 " Do you want me, master? " 
 
 She came through the curtains of the low window 
 and stood before them Venda. Her dress was 
 different than that of the day. It was all white ; of 
 the coarse linen, it is true, but very white. Her 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 107 
 
 anklets and necklets glinted against the brown skin ; 
 
 her feet bore sandals bound with white, and about 
 
 her waist was a girdle of snake-skin. 
 
 She stood there impassive as a statue, not looking 
 
 at Zanalta ; but he moved a step farther from her, 
 
 and clinched his fingers nervously. She was always 
 
 a ghost to him. 
 
 "Your Mistress Ninon says you dance well, 
 
 Venda," said Monsieur Lamort, kindly. " Your 
 
 master has offered to sell you to me ; will you dance 
 
 for my guests in my house ? " 
 
 " If Venda may speak to the music-players yes, 
 
 master." 
 
 "As you please. Tell them what you want, and 
 
 then commence." 
 
 She did so. Two of them, a violin player and a 
 guitar player, came forward with her down the 
 room to a sing-song cadence that was no tune, yet 
 the motion to it was rhythmical. And those blacks 
 who swayed down the room in advance of her until 
 they reached the center separated that she might 
 go first. Had they all learned together that same 
 chorus of motion in some strange pagan ceremony ? 
 Had they been of those whom she had boasted of 
 buying and selling in her own land ? For their eyes 
 looked proud as they touched the strings to the 
 weird cadence and glanced at each other. 
 
 And the dance? Well, it was not such as the 
 blacks dance together on the threshing-floors or in 
 the yards of their cabins when the moon comes up. 
 There was the semi-oriental obeisance to things 
 unseen, but on which hei eyes appeared to rest. 
 
108 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 There was a crooning- sound from her lips as she 
 swayed backward and forward, with eyes half-closed, 
 as one who charms and draws to her a thing un 
 willing. There was a call triumphant as she leaped 
 forward with hand outstretched to claim a victory ; 
 and then, as though holding an imaginary hand, she 
 danced a dance with the writhing grace of a ser 
 pent through every movement ; the quick dart to 
 right, to left, and then the quick curl of the body ; 
 the quick motion of the head thrown back as if for 
 kisses; and ever that one hand poised as though 
 held by one who danced unseen beside her. Then 
 the touch on the guitar grew swifter, stronger ; on 
 the strings of the violin more fierce and fast ; the 
 waving arms and lithe body whirled with the aban 
 donment of madness before the astonished guests. 
 Then there was a final cry of the music a " hone ! " 
 -from the players, and Venda stood one instant 
 straight as a cypress-tree before them, and then 
 bent low to the master of the house. 
 
 "Did I not tell you?" asked Senora Mercedes of 
 her neighbor. " She dances with the devil for a 
 mate, for what human thing could move alone like 
 that ? Is it wonder that I dread her in the house ? " 
 And, indeed, the lady found many another to sym 
 pathize with her in that notion, for one sorely 
 repented that medicine for rheumatism had been 
 gotten from that same slave to cure a cousin of hers. 
 To be sure, the cousin grew well and sound from it, 
 but who was to tell that the evil one had not a claim 
 on his soul for that cure ? 
 
 And each asked the other if she had seen any 
 
AN EVENING WITH MONSIEUR LAMORT. 109 
 
 feature of that shadow dancing beside the witch ; 
 and one was found who fancied she saw the hand 
 Venda clasped ; another was sure there was the 
 shade of two bodies at Venda s feet ; and all shivered 
 a little, and were glad when the more rational music 
 called the white dancers, who one by one drifted 
 away from the corner where the slave stood. 
 
 But Monsieur Lamort looked at her curiously, 
 though kindly. 
 
 "Well, you have done well, though strangely," he 
 said, and then turned to Don Zanalta, whose face 
 showed wonder, uncertainty, and some complex feel 
 ing that made his hands clinch. " So, Don Zanalta, 
 now that she is here, and has danced so bravely for 
 my guests, is she to remain in my house ? The bar 
 gain, as you said, is a quick one, so why not conclude 
 it ? The paper is ready ; shall we sign ? " 
 
 Zanalta threw back his head as though to shake 
 away some unpleasant thought. 
 
 "Why not? "he asked. "Monsieur Raynel, will 
 you witness this ? " 
 
 " My purse, Sebastian," said Monsieur Lamort ; 
 and directly it was placed, heavy and clinking, on 
 the table. A sum was counted, that stood in little 
 gold columns side by side, and on which Venda s 
 eyes rested, while her hand crept to her throat as if 
 to choke back a sound that arose there. 
 
 Don Zanalta looked at the gold, and stepping for 
 ward took the pen Sebastian held ready. Writing 
 his name, he gave the pen to Constante, who signed 
 as a witness, but kept respectfully distant from the 
 creature purchased. As a product of civilization, he 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 did not quite feel comfortable near this thing from 
 the jungles, who danced, but without mirth, like a 
 prisoner loosed from the inferno. 
 
 And as he moved away the creature crept nearer 
 Monsieur Lamort. As the gold-pieces clinked one 
 against the other she dropped to her knees, and her 
 lips touched his hand. He had not noticed her, and 
 the touch startled him. He looked down quickly, 
 she must have thought angrily, for she raised her 
 hand as though in pleading. 
 
 "Master! it is only that I hear for the first time 
 the sound of gold paid for me. Venda was never 
 before bought with money ; but she kneels to say it 
 is music in her ears, because now for all her life 
 she may call you master." 
 
 Monsieur Lamort glanced at the strange, whimsi 
 cal creature with a smile, and he looked across at 
 Zanalta, expecting to see him amused also at the 
 demonstrative speech, but there was no amusement 
 on the Spaniard s face. 
 
 He was glaring at his lately sold slave as though 
 to compel her to look up and see the threatening, 
 unspoken somctliing in his eyes. Monsieur Lamort 
 did not understand in the least what that something 
 was, though he instinctively felt the savageness of it, 
 and dropping his hand on the Avomans white hair he 
 looked questioningly at Zanalta. 
 
 But the don quickly recovered himself, swept the 
 last gold-piece into his pocket, and bowing as one 
 who ends a discussion, he followed Constante, who 
 was nearing the dancers. A certain lace-draped 
 form there drew that young man s attention in a 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. Ill 
 
 manner most distracting-. And in the stately music 
 of the minuet all seemed to forget the wild, dark 
 dancer, who knelt near the palms, speechless, at the 
 feet of her new master. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NEXT MORNING. 
 
 THE day was yet young when Maurice and Con- 
 stante bade each other good-morning after their 
 first sleep in the new land. Up from the slow- 
 moving river came a breath of the sea, and beyond 
 its silvered land-line quivered the green of the 
 willows. 
 
 " How little we fancied that this exile would lead 
 us amid scenes so oriental as that of last night," 
 remarked Maurice, lazily arousing himself from 
 visions of palms and beauty. " But, Constante, I 
 would give a ring off my finger to know what 
 changed your nature in Monsieur Lamort s house. 
 Why, sir, I had to tax my ingenuity more than once 
 to excuse your lack of appreciation of the beauty 
 about you. I never imagined you could be so indif 
 ferent." 
 
 Indifferent ! Constante looked at him with eyes 
 that had not slept for one moment of the dying 
 night or the growing dawn. What a meager gain 
 sleep would be if in exchange he gave up those 
 waking dreams conjured by two appealing brown 
 
112 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 eyes and one quick, smothering embrace there in 
 the garden of palms ! 
 
 So Constante had kept that which was sweetest to 
 him, and made no reply to the badinage of his 
 friend. His thoughts were concentrated on the 
 fact that in six hours he might possibly risk the 
 consternation of the Zanalta household and call, as 
 the dowager had made request. To be sure they 
 would all wonder at his haste, but in the cause of 
 art ah! that thought was a veritable inspiration. 
 In the service of art one dare be as eccentric as 
 pleases oneself. 
 
 Therefore, in exactly six hours by the clock he 
 would venture across the threshold where the beau 
 tiful one of the ancient name resided. To be sure 
 he would have to see the lady of the diamonds first, 
 and to be sure he would have to tell many curious 
 tales to excuse a call at breakfast-time ; but what 
 mattered all that if in recompense he could see one 
 white hand through a lattice, or meet again those 
 mutinous, wondering brown eyes ? 
 
 The chevalier glanced at him covertly several 
 times during their preparations for the street. For 
 the first time he found Constante a closed book to 
 him, a surly, frowning person one moment and a 
 dreamy, smiling one the next, but never a word. 
 
 "Well," said his friend at last, "if you will not 
 speak, are you able to listen ? I have been look 
 ing over the letter of my aunt the marquise 
 heaven be good to her ! but, much as I love her, the 
 letter does not make me happy. Oh, these plots 
 and damnable intrigues of the court ! " 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 113 
 
 "Hist!" and Constante turned with uplifted 
 hand. Be wary, and less loud with your free 
 speech. Walls may have ears in this land as in the 
 old ; and if you should care to return to France, it 
 is as well not to have treason to answer for." 
 
 "Treason ! Never to France, but to the shifting, 
 vacillating principles of ministration. Who can 
 swear fealty to that which can not assure itself of 
 its right or its stanchness? The ministers are 
 changed as one changes his coat, and each new one 
 has his own little personal ends to secure, let who 
 will suffer. But that I that my name ah ! " 
 
 " W^hat do you mean ? " 
 
 " Read that. It is infamous." 
 
 Constante took the letter, a very long one, and 
 read the sheet pointed to : 
 
 My dear one my son for you are as a son to 
 my heart I ask your pardon for thus sending you 
 from me in ignorance of my reason. I fear you will 
 blame me for making you seem like a coward in the 
 eyes of others ; but be sure I would never have 
 sent you from a battle where the contest was fair. 
 Listen, and forgive me because of my love ; and I 
 hold you to your promise to remain where you are 
 until I ask your return, or until the five years have 
 passed. 
 
 " * Maurice, none knows more clearly than I that 
 you have nothing to blush for in the friendship of 
 Madame la Princess; but it is none the less true that 
 jealous eyes are on her. She is not one to be influ 
 enced by either husband or courtiers from her ideas 
 
 8 
 
114 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 of right; but how shall I say it? there are those 
 high in power who have striven to draw her into 
 plans where she could be of use to them. Her hus 
 band is one of them. His anger has led him to be 
 jealous of some one any one whom he fancies frus 
 trates his plans by rendering her impassive to his 
 influence. Maurice, because of her interest in you, 
 he has chosen to mark you as chief enemy to his con 
 tent. And the reason why I have been so strangely 
 urgent in this matter of your departure ; why I send 
 this letter to you only when I see from the shore that 
 the sails are set the reason for all this is that I fear 
 hourly the gates of the Bastille will be closed on 
 you; and through the princess I know enough to 
 be sure it would be useless to contend against the 
 evidence they have arranged. It has been disclosed 
 to her as a threat of what will be done if she still 
 combats them. She has asked time to consider ; and 
 closely watched as she is, has yet managed to tell 
 me of" the plot. Do not think of returning to help 
 her; it would mean, perhaps, death to you both. 
 She will always have help from me, and mine will 
 not injure her in the eyes of her world, as yours 
 would. Bear that in memory, my son. Any help 
 you could offer would only strengthen their conspir 
 acy against you. She knows you to be innocent, and 
 sends her prayers to you ; heed them, and be con- 
 tent. " 
 
 " Whew ! " whistled Constante as he held the paper 
 at arm s-length ; " that suggestion of the Bastille is 
 quite near enough with the ocean between us. It is 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 11 f) 
 
 as I thought. Well, my friend, I congratulate you 
 on getting away from it so easily." 
 
 " Congratulate pouf ! You do not then consider 
 that I will be accused of flight flight before that 
 figurehead of a princely house. Ah ! it is all ridicu 
 lous." 
 
 " No" and Constante spoke with a gravity unus 
 ual " there is nothing ridiculous in the risks 
 taken by those two ladies to warn you. The mean 
 nesses of his royal highness are most extreme ; 
 but his wife comes of too powerful a family for him 
 to vent his rage openly on her. She will be relieved 
 to know how entirely you have eluded them and 
 more, that you are content to abide by your aunt s 
 judgment and remain. I advise you to write by 
 the first ship that sails, and let the marquise see 
 that you do not rebel against her wishes." 
 
 " Well spoken, Constante ! and I accept your 
 advice and hers but 
 
 " Nay, nay ; not a regret, Maurice. Our life-lines 
 are here ; let us make the best of them." 
 
 "What has made you a philosopher?" smiled the 
 other. " Was it the sparkle of those diamonds you 
 spent last evening so close to? But you are right. 
 I will "seal the good resolution by calling early on 
 Monsieur Lamort and presenting those papers to 
 his notice ; so for an hour or two you will have to 
 seek your own amusement after breakfast. Be wise 
 as you can, and lose no more of your heart to those 
 Indian boat-paddlers." 
 
 And the wily Constante bowed to the advice in 
 silence, and with never a twinge of conscience let 
 
116 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 his friend pass out in ignorance of the heart 
 weighted dreams flitting through his own liead- 
 dreams for the future, a future made luminous by 
 the memory of soft black eyes and a mouth tender 
 in its curves as the mouth of a child. To be sure she 
 might refuse to speak to him, beyond a " thank you " 
 
 for that episode of the blaze. Well, even so that 
 
 spell of love s first illusion was yet with him he was 
 sure he could adore her forever at a distance. 
 
 But once in the ruthless sunshine of the streets, 
 face to face with the lazy yet curious eyes of the 
 natives, he felt the courage of his solitude oozing 
 away at the prospect of meeting also the dame 
 of the diamonds perhaps having to even woo her 
 to win the other. 
 
 Don Zanalta was not at home, by black Gourfi s 
 statement a fact for which Monsieur Raynel was 
 grateful. It is so much more difficult to explain 
 one s enthusiasm to a man women are more sym 
 pathetic, especially if the enthusiast be handsome. 
 
 But Madame Villette the ladies ? Oh, yes the 
 ladies were home ; and even Gourfi s face expressed 
 the thought that it was a strange hour to be any 
 where else breakfast was so lately over. 
 
 " Ask Madame Villette if she can grant me an in 
 terview so early, or if not, to let me know at what 
 hour I may return and see her." 
 
 " And the name, master ? " 
 
 "Constante Raynel." 
 
 Madame Villette gave a little gasp when the mes 
 sage was brought. He so early, and so so de 
 termined to be seen! Ah, this was delicious and 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 117 
 
 unusual all the more delicious because Donna 
 Zanalta had not yet been seen without the walls of 
 her chamber that day ; so it would be a tete-a-tete 
 it even seemed an adventure in her too prosy life. 
 
 And you may be sure Madame Ninon did not 
 leave her chamber without very critical glances at 
 her image in the mirror. Her prettiest slippers 
 were donned, her most delicate-tinted scarf, and, as 
 a crowning charm, she wore on the open-throated 
 white gown a cluster of yellow roses. 
 
 And Constante the hypocrite -- had discov 
 ered on the wall that long-since-painted portrait of 
 the Spanish lady, before which he was posed when 
 he heard that little tap, tap of dainty heels on the 
 waxed floor. 
 
 He turned with his most impressive bow, with 
 eyes drooped in diffidence most charming. 
 
 "Madame Villette ! " murmured the rascal, as 
 though he had waited ages longing for her face. 
 Then his eyes traveled up from her slipper-tips 
 along the childish figure to the adorable face, and 
 suddenly he stood erect and confused. " Mademoi 
 selle ! " he stammered, "I pardon me 
 
 She smiled, and reached out her hand as a friend 
 might. He touched but the tips of her fingers, and 
 looked at her. 
 
 " Pardon you that you served me last night, and 
 that you so kindly come to ask after me to-day, mon 
 sieur?" she said, teasingly. " Do you think, then, 
 that you committed a fault when you smothered 
 those flames ? But pray be seated ; and though you 
 have answered neither of my other questions, I am 
 
118 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 going to ask another. Why do you call me both 
 Madame Villette and mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Because, mademoiselle 
 
 " Nay madame." 
 
 " Madame ? " 
 
 Was the handsome stranger mad? She was 
 really startled at his wild eyes and sharp tones. 
 
 "Madame yes, certainly," she answered, with a 
 certain soothing intonation. " Had you forgotten ? 
 It is so easy for a stranger to forget titles where he 
 meets many new faces ; and then, again, there are 
 those who think they compliment by calling a lady 
 mademoiselle. Perhaps when my hair grows gray I 
 too will want to hear it ; but just yet I am madame." 
 
 Madame ! Constante looked at her stupidly. He 
 wondered if he had been drunk or crazy last night 
 that he had muddled things so, or interpreted them 
 wrongly. Madame ! Then she was a wife some 
 man s wife ! For one instant he felt that the floor 
 was slipping from under his chair. Then with an 
 effort he spoke, and kept his voice steady : 
 
 " It is unpardonable of me to have forgotten any 
 thing concerning you, madame, but your good heart 
 has divined the cause of my mistake. I fancied 
 you were mademoiselle, and your relative madame." 
 
 "You are correct only in her case. She is also 
 madame, or senora, and a widow. I see you pay 
 attention to that painting of her. As an artist, you 
 of course are critical, and we can show you few 
 treasures except some pieces, curious only because of 
 their age ; but my aunt tells me we may hope now 
 to have some worthy work for our church since you 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 119 
 
 have come. The news is welcome. And do you 
 paint portraits too? " 
 
 Paint portraits! Ah, that dreamed-of Madonna 
 with her eyes ! She madame a man s wife ? Then 
 he bowed low and found his voice. 
 
 " You are pleased to be gracious to me, madame, 
 that you show interest in my work. Yes, I have 
 painted portraits, and hope to begin again on your 
 shores. The lady mad ame, your aunt gave me 
 permission to call to-day and hold converse with her 
 concerning works of art. My enthusiasm must be 
 my excuse for so early a visit." 
 
 " Your enthusiasm for art ? " 
 
 Almost his eyes betrayed him, as he felt they 
 must have betrayed him there in the room of the 
 palms last night. And she a wife! It would not have 
 been the first wife to whom Master Constante had 
 uttered love-vows with as little provocation and she 
 was so alluring with the color and perfume of yel 
 low roses about her ; but the confusion of her reve 
 lations was yet over him, and his eyes avoided hers. 
 
 u Yes, madame ; even a wandering artist must have 
 some ideal that serves as an anchor a mistress to 
 whom he swears fealty ; and art is gracious enough 
 to accept all devotion." 
 
 " But art draws to herself so much that we miss 
 in the more human world as a mistress she is 
 to be envied." 
 
 " Nay, nay, madame ; she but soothes the discarded 
 hearts, and recompenses them for the floutings of 
 the world. She accepts so many who would find no 
 welcome in a lady s bower." 
 
120 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 She glanced at him with softly closing eyes and a 
 mutinous moue. A most eloquent glance for a wife 
 to give, thought poor Constante. Alas for his 
 Madonna ! 
 
 u And your friend, Chevalier Delogne, is he also 
 devoted to art, and thus self-exiled from converse 
 with us poor ordinary mortals ? I trust myself to 
 say no to that, for he was not too far in the clouds 
 to know us all last night and even remember our 
 names." 
 
 "Madame, what better excuse would a man need 
 for hearing nothing remembering nothing of 
 the world about him than that he had once looked 
 upon your face ? " 
 
 " Very pretty very pretty indeed, Monsieur 
 Raynel. Would the fine ladies of Versailles pardon 
 forgetfulness for a speech like that ? " 
 
 " Surely ; especially if their own hearts told them 
 they had not been forgotten that it was only the 
 light of their eyes that had banished from one s 
 memory all titles, or conventional bonds of the 
 world. You are pleased to be very unforgiving to 
 me, madame." 
 
 Ninon thought him handsome enough to be 
 granted absolution for any crime. A winning face 
 is a wordless voucher for merit to most women. 
 But she only smiled and gathered her scarf about her. 
 " Come, monsieur. On the subject of art or of mem 
 ory, we do not seem to agree very well. Perhaps on 
 the safer one of flowers we may comprehend each 
 other better. The gardens of Orleans may seem 
 novel to a stranger. Will you walk in ours ? " 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 121 
 
 Would Adam walk through Eden at Eve s call on 
 that first day of her creation ? And Constante fol 
 lowed quite as willingly, but wishing vainly that some 
 one would appear an instant and call her clearly by 
 name and then take himself away again imme 
 diately ; for try as he would he could not settle in his 
 mind her station and that of her aunt. One was 
 senora and one was madame, it appeared ; one was 
 a widow and one was a female Croesus. But either 
 Villeneuve or his own stupidity had confused him 
 much, but he dare not expose himself to her raillery 
 by further questioning ; and he had not yet heard 
 any mention made of " monsieur." 
 
 And how gay she was ; seemingly care-free as the 
 birds among the magnolia-boughs. A wife he 
 had seen no wives like her ; so girlish, so alluring, 
 yet with so much of provoking innocence in her 
 eyes. Should he ever be able to paint all that ? 
 
 " This side of the rose-walk is the special province 
 of my aunt," she remarked, smilingly ; " of course 
 you will want to become acquainted with that." 
 
 " Most assuredly some day when its chatelaine 
 is gracious enough to conduct me; but is there 
 never a bower of your own in all this glow of color 
 - or am I for my sins forbidden entrance to it ? " 
 
 " Have you sins?" she asked, unbelievingly; "if 
 so, of course I shall find you a retreat for prayer. 
 Come ; it is where I used to go when I was naughty 
 and had been told to spend an hour in thoughts of 
 penitence." 
 
 "Is it so? Then rather let us seek a place less 
 sanctified. You went there for prayer, but I, alas ! 
 
122 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 must confess that the sins oftenest to my charge are 
 those of which I can not repent, and such a soul can 
 hope for little grace." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, are you then serious ? But if you 
 would but try to repent, if you would but say you 
 were sorry, surely absolution would be granted you." 
 And the hypocrite felt a wild temptation to cover 
 her hands with kisses as she looked up at him, but 
 he shook his head. 
 
 " Nay, madame, I fear not ; for only this morning 
 I begged pardon for an unwilling offense begged 
 with both heart and lips, but my confessor gave me 
 no hope of forgiveness." 
 
 Ninon looked incredulous, yet full of sympathy 
 for his sorrow. 
 
 " But what a hard heart to turn you away hope 
 less. Was the offense then so grievous? " 
 
 " Most grievous." 
 
 " Yet if you repent 
 
 " So I hoped, madame ; but she " 
 
 " She ? " 
 
 "The lady who thought me unpardonable the 
 lady whose name I had forgotten." 
 
 Fairly caught, Madame Ninon laughed aloud - 
 laughter filled with the music of the universe to 
 Constante ; but the merry sound reached other ears 
 than his, for a window opened near them, and through 
 the lattice the visitor caught a glimpse of a white- 
 draped figure of ample proportions and heard a voice. 
 
 ".Madame Villette ! " it demanded, as from some 
 one within " Madame Ninon Villette laughing 
 like that out there in the garden and entertaining 
 
THE NEXT MORNING. 123 
 
 gentlemen ere people of quality have yet had coffee 
 or prayers ! Give me my gown this moment, Pep- 
 ito ! What ! you can t find it ? That is some of that 
 Venda s work. I doubt if we shall find aught for a 
 good seven days after her departure the beast! 
 Come now move quickly! I will see this gay 
 gallant who laughs under my windows, so 
 
 Her kinswoman did not wait for the conclu 
 sion of the sentence, but beckoning to Monsieur 
 Raynel she sped through the arches of shrubbery 
 and perfume of roses until they reached a little gate 
 at the side of the garden, and halted, flushed and 
 breathless, listening for pursuing footsteps as a 
 naughty child who feared punishment. 
 
 " Sometime when the day has grown older, mon 
 sieur, I beg that you will return to talk of art and its 
 charms to my respected aunt; but if you come 
 earlier than noon I warn you that for a full hour 
 you will have only myself (only, oh, Ninon !) to talk 
 to, and it seems we do not agree well. So I dismiss 
 you most abruptly, lest you have to take your share 
 of a scolding, and art might be the loser. Adios ! 
 I will see you again when you come to paint the 
 portrait of Senora Zanalta." 
 
 Surely this was a most intimate parting for two 
 people who did not agree well. It was so sweetly 
 puzzling to Raynel that the pleasure of it brought a 
 pain in its wake she was a wife ! 
 
 He looked at her with curious scrutiny in his eyes. 
 She was so much engaged in listening that she did 
 not note it. It was all so delightful to her a real 
 adventure ; and the handsome fellow was plainly 
 
124 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 loath to leave her. She was smiling at the certainty 
 of it, when he spoke : 
 
 "If I might hope to do your face as well, 
 madame? " 
 
 "Mine my portrait? Well, perhaps. Yes, I 
 think my brother would like it ; we shall see." 
 
 " I am grateful." But his voice despite his thanks 
 had a certain hardness and directness as he looked 
 at her. It was preposterous of course, but he could 
 not endure uncertainty any longer. " And would 
 monsieur also care for one ? Shall I meet him ? I 
 think I have not yet had that honor." 
 
 " Monsieur ?" 
 
 " Pardon me your husband ? " 
 
 " Mon Dicu ! " And she made a little quick sign of 
 the cross. " Monsieur Villette ! Yes, I truly hope 
 you and he will some day meet. It would be well 
 for you, as he was always a good man." 
 
 "Was?" 
 
 " Certainly, Monsieur Raynel ; and in Paradise, 
 where one lives with angels instead of poor human 
 creatures, he is surely no less excellent." 
 
 " Paradise !"- and all the green garden swam 
 before Constante s eyes. " Oh, madame, pardon me ! 
 You will think me a heartless animal." 
 
 "Not at all" and Madame Ninon s eyes had a 
 twinkle in them not brought there by the memory 
 of that soul in the celestial regions " only a man 
 who is curious 
 
 " Madame ! " 
 
 " My aunt is coming ! Adios, Monsieur Raynel." 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 125 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 
 
 AFTER the noon hour many people were astir in 
 the streets that day. It was a holiday, and the 
 Creoles, eager as children, never missed a day of 
 leisure or of merrymaking. Gay-turbaned negresses 
 rustled their " bettermost " petticoats for the admira 
 tion of their kind, and down by the river where the 
 trees grew they gathered and gathered toward the 
 sun s sinking, waiting for the cool when the music 
 would come for their dancing under the stars 
 their music, in which there never was blended the 
 sound of a drum. That instrument had for so long 
 been the signal by which the masters warned each 
 other of an uprising among their blacks, that it was 
 never used in their merrymakings ; the deep, thun 
 derous tones had too often borne startling messages 
 to the hearts in the black lands, messages of war 
 and devastation. 
 
 Chevalier Delogne walked again on the street by 
 the river, finding all the strange new life most inter 
 esting, but keeping a sharp lookout for Raynel, who 
 had someway drifted into other channels on the 
 alert for artistic material, supposed his friend. 
 
 He heard his name spoken, and turning found 
 Don Zanalta at his elbow, smiling most pleasantly. 
 
 " What, Chevalier, have you already smelled out 
 the corners where the most amusing sport may be 
 
126 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 had ? You make quick strides ; but, after all, it is 
 tame beside Paris." 
 
 " No doubt." And the stranger s voice took on 
 a certain curtness. He did not like much this 
 powdered, perfumed Spaniard with the affected strut 
 that had in it the airs and graces of a dandy, or of a 
 woman who is vain. But his eyes had in them no 
 feminine gentleness. They were keen and alert as 
 they noted the wild whirls of the colored Creoles, 
 especially the bare cream-like arms of one of the 
 women classed among the " brown people." 
 
 "Not bad that," he remarked, appreciatively. 
 " Anything darker has too much of coarseness in 
 feature ; but those yellow ones ape all the fine 
 manners of their mistresses that is what makes 
 them so amusing." 
 
 "To tell the truth," remarked the chevalier, 
 "they do not appear to me in the least amusing - 
 their eyes look to me pathetic as those of driven 
 cattle." 
 
 " That is because some of the prettiest are look 
 ing at you sentimentally," laughed the other. " Oh, 
 it does not take them long to spy out a face and figure 
 like yours. I assure you, you will not have to sue 
 for favors." 
 
 Maurice looked at him in amazement. He had 
 dropped a mask worn the night before, perhaps 
 thinking to fall more quickly into friendship with 
 youth by the use of flattery and allusions that 
 would prove alluring to many a stranger in search 
 of adventure. 
 
 "I am not looking for favors," he returned, care- 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 127 
 
 lessly, " but for my friend Monsieur Raynel. He is 
 sure to be where music sounds." 
 
 " I saw him across there but a few minutes ago. 
 He had a pencil and paper on which he seemed to 
 be fixing the outlines of those three red men who 
 lean against the wall, but never sing and never 
 dance like the black slaves. In truth your friend 
 has strange fancies to picture those sullen slave men 
 instead of the bright faces of the brown girls." 
 
 " Strange fancies yes, many a one ; but I rather 
 like this one of his, for those Indian men make a 
 peculiar picture as they stand there, watching. Does 
 not the taller belong to Monsieur Lamort ? I think I 
 remember seeing his face in the grounds there this 
 morning." 
 
 Don Zanalta laughed shortly. " That proves 
 nothing," he made reply. " All our slaves in the col 
 ony flock to the door of Lamort if they have a 
 grievance to moan over and it is seldom they 
 have not a pretense of one. But I think he owns no 
 Indian slaves, for he has been trying to influence 
 the cabildo to set free all the red men yet in bond 
 age. However, it has not been done." 
 
 The two had by this time sauntered to a seat, 
 where they disposed themselves, and Don Zanalta 
 tendered his snuff-box to the young man, and used 
 it freely himself, in the same delicate, dandified 
 manner peculiar to him. Maurice had heard him 
 spoken of as a clever and subtle mover in the circle 
 of politics, but was inclined to think the reputation 
 very easily won as he noted his little affectations. 
 
128 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Yet he of course was well versed in knowledge of 
 the new land, having lived there so many years. 
 
 " And why set the red slaves free and not the 
 blacks?" asked the stranger. And again the towns 
 man smiled patiently. 
 
 " The blacks sacrc ! No one has dared mention 
 that in the ears of the governor. It would mean 
 revolution no less. And as for the reds well, 
 there are not many of them now. Strange how 
 they die out in captivity, instead of increasing like 
 the Africans. Stranger still when one considers 
 that it is they and not the Africans who are native 
 here ; so it can not be the climate that kills them. 
 But they die nevertheless, and die as they live 
 silent, amid all the music. And Monsieur Lamort 
 has unearthed a neglected declaration of O Reilly s 
 that said the inhabitants of Louisiana must prepare 
 to emancipate the red slaves the natives of the 
 soil." 
 
 " And the declaration has never been enforced, or 
 made into a law? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; it is waiting for the final decision of the 
 king, and his royal wisdom has not yet led him in 
 the direction of that action." 
 
 The chevalier glanced at him quickly to see if 
 there was cynicism in the face as well as the words, 
 but could perceive none. The eyes of the Spaniard 
 were roaming idly over the groups already dispers 
 ing, for the permit of the slaves seldom allowed 
 their absence after nine o clock only the free 
 people were remaining. 
 
 " But has it not been several years since the 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 129 
 
 governor, General O Reilly, made laws for the 
 colony? " 
 
 Don Zanalta looked surprised at the stranger s 
 persistence. 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; twenty-five years, I think it is a 
 lifetime to some of them. But do you too, monsieur, 
 intend taking up the study of the slave trade ? You 
 will find it irksome, I fear." 
 
 "No; but if, as you say, Monsieur Lamort has 
 business with such questions, I shall doubtless hear 
 more of them. This morning we agreed that I am 
 to be his private secretary." 
 
 " Do you tell me so ? Well, well, I must congrat 
 ulate you on having fallen in with so good a general. 
 A wonderful man is Victor Lamort. You will 
 doubtless learn much from him ; but do not let him 
 teach you to upset the slave laws. I, for one, have 
 trouble enough with mine now. But you must come 
 to my house, Chevalier. A member of Monsieur 
 Lamort s household is always welcome to us ; and 
 you, believe me, my young friend, are welcome for 
 your own sake." 
 
 Maurice had but time to murmur his thanks when 
 Zanalta arose abruptly and stood looking across the 
 moving people to one figure walking alone and 
 quickly. Following his glance, the young man felt 
 his heart leap as he saw a gray gown and caught 
 sight of a white sleeve. 
 
 " Pardon me ; I wish to speak to some one," said 
 Zanalta, and walked swiftly across the little open 
 space. There was more of decision and less of 
 affectation in his gait, and he was going to speak to 
 
 9 
 
130 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 the one whom Maurice in his thoughts called St. 
 Denise. 
 
 She raised her eyes as he came close, and looked 
 quickly around as if to turn aside ; but it was too 
 late, and an instant afterward he was bending with 
 head uncovered before her. 
 
 " Ah, mademoiselle, the saints are at last kind to 
 me. Do you know I have watched each morning 
 for your accustomed visits to the poor, and only 
 to-day did I learn that you came no more in the 
 morning? But you must not go alone at nightfall, 
 my child. Let me carry your basket." 
 
 u Monsieur" and the voice of the girl was tremu 
 lous monsieur, perhaps you mean to be kind, but 
 I have not come out at nightfall that I might find 
 some one to carry my basket, and in all this town 
 there is none that will molest me, so I need no cav 
 alier. I have the honor to bid you good-night." 
 
 " Nay, nay, child ; let me walk beside you, at least. 
 It is not seemly that a maiden should venture in 
 this quarter alone." 
 
 " And less so that a gentleman of rank should 
 escort the messenger of the convent. I am safe 
 alone, monsieur. Pardon the plainness of my words, 
 but I am much distressed that you that you persist 
 in meeting me when when 
 
 " When you have said no to all the advantages 
 offered you. Ah, Mademoiselle Denise - 
 
 " I beg you, sir no more ! " And her eyes were 
 both frightened and angry. " I shall never again walk 
 alone on my errands if no hour of the day is to be 
 sacred from these persecutions. By what right 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 131 
 
 "By the right of love," he murmured; "the 
 strongest right the greatest force the world knows, 
 my charming saint and it will yet draw you to 
 meet my thoughts. Ah ! I shall claim sweet words 
 from you some day for the smiles you deny me 
 to-night. Come, now " 
 
 But the girl had caught sight of a face in the 
 scattering groups, a black woman whom she knew, 
 and she slipped quickly to her side. 
 
 " Here, Maum Rosy, carry my basket and walk 
 with me to the Place des Invalides." 
 
 " Hi ! ma m zelle ; Rosy him got go home this 
 minute him got - 
 
 "Come ! " And the girl s fingers closed over the 
 dark arm with compelling force. "Adieu, mon 
 sieur! And she swept him a courtesy with a mock 
 ery strange in one of the gray habit, and walked 
 rapidly away with the protesting Rosy. To Don 
 Zanalta nothing was left but to return her bow 
 courteously, and none in passing would have guessed 
 the small drama enacted there before them all. 
 
 Only the Chevalier Delogne stood apart and noted 
 the brief pantomime. He envied Zanalta the 
 acquaintance permitting him to halt and speak to 
 her in an evidently confidential manner ; but that 
 mocking bow puzzled him. 
 
 He was still standing there when the Don saun 
 tered back, looking serene and unruffled. 
 
 "A charming child, that," he remarked, with a 
 gesture in the direction he had just come. "Too 
 bad that her popularity won by charity and good 
 works is having a frivolous influence over her. It is 
 
132 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 never well for a community to let any one creature 
 fancy himself a necessity." 
 
 " But she seems to be really so to those poor folk 
 by the shore." 
 
 "You know her, then, already?" asked Zanalta, 
 slowly, and eying him with a glance that was sud 
 denly guarded. " You know this Mademoiselle 
 Denise? " 
 
 " I know her name and face, monsieur, and from 
 a crippled sailor we heard last evening a hint of her 
 virtues ; but I have not the honor of being known 
 by the lady." 
 
 " Lady ! Well, she is scarcely given that title ; in 
 fact she is an unclassed sort of being a protegee 
 of the good nuns, and intended, I believe, for their 
 order. Too dull a fate for so pretty a face, eh ? " 
 
 " Not if the convent is one of the gates to heaven. 
 Is not the world called to give its best to God? 
 What fate more tranquil than the life she would 
 live under the sisterhood of Mary." 
 
 But, quietly as he spoke, a chivalrous protest arose 
 in his breast against the force of his words. So fair, 
 so girlish ; and the cross is so cold on young hearts. 
 
 Don Zanalta smiled and twirled his walking-stick 
 jauntily. 
 
 " Very wise decision if made by a graybeard, my 
 dear Chevalier, but not very human when uttered by 
 lips of twenty-five. Nay, do not blush; you will 
 outgrow your age, and haply also such cold-blooded 
 disposal of beauty." 
 
 At that moment a man approached who had been 
 standing a little way off watching those two for 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 133 
 
 several minutes. He looked like a sailor as to dress, 
 and half white, half Indian as to race. He spoke 
 Spanish, and said : 
 
 " Pardon, Don Diego Zanalta, but I bear a mes 
 sage that the Sea Gull rests among the willows 
 to-night, and her captain asks company of yourself 
 and friends." There was the slightest sign of hesi 
 tation in his manner as he glanced at Delogne. 
 
 Dolt!" muttered Zanalta, drawing the man a 
 little aside. " Why speak aloud until you know 
 who listens?" 
 
 The other shrugged his shoulders. " When the 
 words of France are spoken by these people who 
 pass, he opens his ears and smiles ; when Spanish is 
 spoken, he is in the dark and the trail is lost. I 
 watched him ; I know." 
 
 " When did Rochelle come back from the Ala- 
 bamas?" 
 
 The shadow of a smile touched the face of the 
 half-breed. 
 
 " This day ere the sun rose out of the sea." 
 
 " And goes when ? " 
 
 "Who knows?" returned the other with indiffer 
 ence. " Maybe this night, maybe next year. Have 
 you a message? " 
 
 "Yes." But he looked disturbed, and hesitated. 
 " To-night of all nights ; it is most unfortunate this 
 coincidence. Yet must I see Rochelle. He is as 
 whimsical as royalty itself, and yes, I must see him. 
 An hour late perhaps, because of this other ; but 
 Gourfi can keep her guarded till my return. It is 
 the best I can do." Then from these ruminations 
 
134 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 he aroused himself to look at the waiting half-breed. 
 " Say yes. I may not be early, but I will be there. 
 "You comprehend ? " 
 
 The man replied by the slightest inclination of 
 his head and a lazy droop of lids over his watchful 
 Indian eyes. Whoever he served had not taught 
 him to be servile. 
 
 " One would think I held audience on the street 
 Bienville, since even my moments of rest must be 
 distracted here by business," Zanalta remarked in 
 an apologetic way, turning to Delogne. " And have 
 you not yet discovered Monsieur Raynel?" 
 
 " I think I see him now, and coming this way." 
 
 " Then I shall feel the less regret at leaving you, 
 Chevalier, when I see you with as merry a com 
 panion as your friend, and I have some matters that 
 need attention this evening ; so, adios." 
 
 "Ah, there you are!" called Constante, and in a 
 moment was bowing to Zanalta. " What, monsieur, 
 do you withdraw at my approach ? " 
 
 11 To my regret," responded the older man. " My 
 time is limited this evening; but there will be 
 others with better fortune for me, no doubt, and 
 on the earliest night at your convenience I should 
 be pleased if you would dine at my house, gen 
 tlemen." 
 
 " You are kind," began Delogne ; but Zanalta 
 checked him with a gesture and a smile. 
 
 " Kind ! say, rather, lonely. And the ladies will 
 also be glad of your coming, I promise you. My 
 sister-in-law is already much interested in the art 
 work Monsieur Raynel is to produce here. I shall 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 135 
 
 give myself the pleasure of calling on you to 
 morrow." 
 
 They exchanged bows, and he was about to turn 
 away, when Constante seemed to recall another 
 cause for delay. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, just a moment of your time. 
 Pray tell me who one Capitaine Rochelle of the Sea 
 Gull is ; I am curious regarding that character." 
 
 Diego Zanalta wheeled about and gave him a 
 look as though demanding whether the question 
 was prompted by insolence or ignorance, then smiled 
 in a hard way that was half-mocking. 
 
 " I regret that I am unable to satisfy your curi 
 osity on this point, monsieur, but unfortunately my 
 acquaintance does not embrace every smuggler and 
 night-sailing vessel on our waters. In fact it would 
 take a man with no other employment to keep 
 informed on those troublesome points, and as a 
 newcomer I should not advise you to become 
 entangled with their mysteries. Again, buenas 
 HOC lies! " 
 
 Constante stared after him with wide eyes, and 
 then whistled in a manner lacking dignity. 
 
 " What think you of that speech, Maurice ? " 
 
 " Nothing. Why should I ? You have, it appears, 
 made inquiry of some one whom gentlemen are not 
 supposed to know. You have, as oft before, been 
 indiscreet, and Don Zanalta resents it. However, 
 he will learn ere long not to lay so much stress on 
 your words. But who is this debatable one of whom 
 you speak?" 
 
 " Rochelle? Oh, I have been talking to some old 
 
136 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 sailors who sprawl across the green over there. 
 They were telling me wonderful things of sea and 
 land about here (while I paid for their wine), and 
 among other things, of the Sea Gull, a little vessel, 
 seemingly English, that appears like a phantom to 
 the superstitious ; never lays in known harbors, yet 
 is seen fitfully on the waters ; is supposed to deal 
 in wine, but none knows its customers ; is said to 
 have an Indian crew, yet its commander is a white 
 man. Some think him the prince of evil because 
 of his various knowledge. One man there swore to 
 his conviction that he was Bowles, the white chief 
 of the Creek Nation Bowles who was also an actor, 
 an artist, an American tory, an ex-British officer, 
 and the commander of a piratical crew which had 
 proven most disastrous to American and Spanish 
 stores." 
 
 " But how could it be this many-sided Bowles 
 when the Spanish authorities had secured him 
 through some of his treacherous followers, and even 
 now he is captive in the castle at Havana ; and 
 indeed did we not hear of late that he had died 
 there a prisoner ? " 
 
 "True enough, but there are those about who 
 seem to think that that many-sided adventurer was 
 something supernatural ; and just as he disappeared 
 from these shores there came this other one, who is 
 just as strange, from the description they give of 
 him a man who handles the cards as though the 
 devil marked the winning ones for his hands, a man 
 whom no one has seen in the daylight, and who 
 makes music on a viol as though the angels taught 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 137 
 
 him. He also can speak as the red men speak ; but 
 the one difference between him and Bowles is that no 
 one can tell of actual crime he has done, therefore 
 he is not called for by the law. But his mysterious 
 coming 1 and going can not have an innocent mean 
 ing ; and the folk here just think he is the devil 
 the devil who was Bowles and is now Rochelle." 
 
 " By our fortune, now, but you seem to have been 
 studying very closely the history of New World 
 adventurers the past couple of hours ; no wonder 
 Don Zanalta was not flattered by your question. 
 And what for this evening, Constante to the cafe ? 
 Our days together will be few now, as I am prom 
 ised to Monsieur Lamort for a season, so we must 
 make the best of our time." 
 
 " We can not do that in the crowd of the cafe. 
 No, let us stroll so ! I am too restless for a seat 
 at a table. I want to move to walk to fly if I 
 could ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, when you take flight you will 
 leave your intended address, no doubt. Could it by 
 any chance be the house of the gentleman who just 
 left us?" 
 
 " How did you come to guess that house ? " de 
 manded Constante ; and Delogne smiled at the half- 
 assent in the words. 
 
 " How ? My friend, do you forget that you passed 
 all the evening at her side that she was the only 
 lady you noticed ? Whatever the rest of the assem 
 bly thought, I was convinced that you were at last 
 serious and had concluded to be no longer a mere 
 poacher in the field of love." 
 
138 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Constante stared at his friend as though mystified, 
 and then smiled in a forced, half-hearted way. 
 
 " Oh, you thought so, did you ? And the lady 
 tell me what you think, now, for the one who 
 looks on sees best how the game goes, you know 
 think you she will approve will " 
 
 " Approve ! Certainly, Constante, you are grow 
 ing modest when you doubt your own attractions. 
 I venture to say she is ready to say yes to you in 
 less than a fortnight. Does that not cheer you ? " 
 
 Immeasurably," groaned Constante. "Oh, but 
 you are a helpful friend to cheer a poor devil when 
 he is in trouble." 
 
 " Trouble ! You surprise me ! But of course they 
 are heart troubles the only kind you ever have. 
 But if it is not that comfortable Donna Zanalta, 
 then you will have to confess, for I have not been 
 observing you closely for the past few hours, and am 
 ignorant of the latest. Pray whose wife have you 
 been swearing devotion to now?" 
 
 " Maurice, I beg you not to walk brutally over my 
 feelings in that fashion ! I was going to confide in 
 you, but I will reconsider the subject until you are 
 in a more sympathetic mood and I ll repay you," 
 he added, maliciously, "by telling you the other 
 ninety-nine theories I heard about Monsieur Ro- 
 chelle and the Sea Gull." 
 
 Delogne suddenly contracted his brows and made 
 a gesture to his friend for silence. He was trying to 
 think what other voice had uttered that name, the 
 Sea Gull, in his hearing. Not the voice of Con 
 stante, but a lazy, yet melodious, voice a voice with 
 
DENTSE OF THE CONVENT. 139 
 
 certain peculiar intonations the voice of the half- 
 Indian who spoke Spanish. 
 
 " Well," demanded his friend, u I beg" permission to 
 speak when your disposition will warrant it." 
 
 " Constante, have you observed that small as this 
 colony is, it contains several problems to test our 
 wit?" 
 
 " Ah ! have I not ? One alone have I found that I 
 will joyously devote my life to solve." 
 
 The dusk had fallen the odorous darkness of the 
 South-lands. The stars were out here and there in 
 the warm sky, but clouds scurrying up from the sea 
 effaced their glitterings ; and the unlighted street 
 was very shadowy, save at times when a sedan- 
 chair with a lantern on its poles would be borne by 
 trotting negroes across the avenues, and they, few 
 and far between, looked liks fireflies. 
 
 Afar off, along the bank of the river, sounded the 
 strings of a guitar sweet tones of the South and of 
 night. Slave-voices sang somewhere in the dark 
 where boats were moored, and the sounds blended 
 harmoniously with the warm wind under the stars. 
 
 The two friends halted, and smiled into each other s 
 eyes, and by silent mutual consent leaned against an 
 old live-oak and listened. The new land, with its 
 music and strange shadings, its adventurers and 
 grande seigneurs, and withal its remoteness, was as a 
 land of romance to each. 
 
 Standing there so, without words, they listened to 
 the charming sounds of the night, and noted the 
 approach of a small chattering black boy and the 
 gowned form of a priest, who passed within arm s- 
 
140 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 reach of the two in the shadows, yet evidently did 
 not see them, intent no doubt on some soul near 
 death or in sore sickness toward whom he was 
 hastening. 
 
 " That monk is but a part of the picture," remarked 
 Constante. " How well he fits into this scheme of 
 starlight, and far soft music. He brings me fancies 
 of a possible senorita under a rose-trellis, and a pos 
 sible Fra Lippo hastening to a tryst there." 
 
 " It requires but little to start your fancies in that 
 direction ; but have you noticed where we are ? I 
 did not until now ; this is surely one side of the 
 grounds belonging to Monsieur Lamort s dwelling. 
 You see it touches three streets." 
 
 " And a very snug abode for this land of the sav 
 age people. Ah, that palm-room! No wonder my 
 fancies turn readily to trysts here. The very atmos 
 phere suggests adventure." 
 
 " Hist ! look at that! " 
 
 " That " was a form approaching, but not in the 
 frank manner of the priest. It was slipping along 
 in the shadows, and halting every now and then to 
 look backward, as though waiting for some one. As 
 it came nearer, yet without sound, they perceived 
 it was some one barefooted, therefore a negro ; and 
 the stealthy manner of the man made the two in the 
 shadow fairly hold their breath that they might dis 
 cover what purpose he had in view theft, perhaps, 
 as he was approaching the dwelling of Monsieur 
 Lamort in that suspicious manner. 
 
 No other house was very near ; gardens and 
 empty spaces lay around ; the nearest building 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 141 
 
 and that distant was the place of the nuns, 
 where a light glimmered at the gate ; so surely it 
 must be the property of Monsieur Lamort on which 
 the man had designs, and from his manner he was 
 evidently awaiting a comrade. 
 
 They were quite sure of this fact when far down 
 the street another form was seen approaching, walk 
 ing rapidly, but wearing shoes evidently a woman, 
 or else a man wearing a long black cloak. At that 
 distance in the darkness they could not be certain 
 which it was, but one thing they could be sure of 
 was that a third figure, resembling the first, and 
 also barefoot, was following close behind ; and with 
 every moment the three conspirators, if such they 
 were, were drawing closer together. The first to 
 arrive stood in the shadows, awaiting the others. 
 
 Three little notes like the call of a drowsy night- 
 bird sounded through the silence from where he 
 was, and the two strangers in the darkness by the 
 live-oak felt it was a signal to the others that he 
 waited. 
 
 But only the one who came last seemed to heed it, 
 and at the sound his stealthy stride changed to a run. 
 Because of his bare feet he made no noise, and he 
 could almost touch the gowned figure when that 
 waiting one stepped swiftly from the shadows. 
 
 Then there was a smothered scream, a drapery 
 quickly flung over struggling arms, and in less than 
 half a minute the second figure was but a shapeless 
 bundle of dark cloth, being borne lightly in the 
 arms of the two blacks, who fairly ran across the 
 street and directly toward the live-oak tree. 
 
142 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Get to boat, quick ! " muttered the first one, who 
 seemed the leader in the affair ; " place all quiet 
 now, but quick ! " 
 
 And then he uttered a snarl of rage as he was 
 obliged to halt in the midst of his haste. The sword 
 of Chevalier Delogne, glittering in the dim star 
 light, barred the passage of the blacks and their 
 burden. 
 
 " Lay down that person, whoever it be ! " he com 
 manded. 
 
 But the black had no notion of obeying. He 
 caught his load on one arm and with the other 
 whipped out a rapier, with which he lunged forward 
 blindly, without effect, however, for his bared arm 
 was pierced with that long glittering wand of steel, 
 and the weapon fell from his useless hand. 
 
 At the same moment Constante, though wearing no 
 sword, fell on the other black with his cane, to such 
 purpose that the two rogues, seeing a second cham 
 pion make his appearance, concluded they had run 
 into an ambush, and throwing their motionless bur 
 den at the feet of the strangers fled into the shadows 
 and disappeared in the direction of the river. 
 
 The Chevalier sheathed his sword, and Constante 
 picked up the rapier. 
 
 "If the blacks of the country carry blades like 
 this it must be that they have gold in their purses, 
 or else most generous masters," he observed. " What 
 say you now of adventure, Maurice, and what think 
 you we will find in this wrapping of sail-cloth?" 
 
 Maurice did not reply ; he was on his knees beside 
 the swathed figure, unwrapping quickly as he could 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 143 
 
 the smothering stuffs, until out of the folds a limp 
 white hand fell upon his own. 
 
 "A lady, Constante ! Man Dieu ! my heart 
 told me so. Quick ! here, unwind this as I lift her. 
 Heavens ! it is she and she is dead they have 
 smothered her ! " 
 
 But Constante was the wiser, and shook his head 
 as he bent over her. 
 
 " No, indeed ; she will live to see her own grand 
 children, be sure of it. They have frightened her 
 into unconsciousness, and small wonder but it is 
 not death." 
 
 " Then come ! At Moniseur Lamort s we will 
 find help for her. Ah ! the black fiends, to touch 
 you you ! " 
 
 " May I assist ? " began Constante ; but the Cheva 
 lier made no reply, only arose from the ground with 
 the unconscious form in his arms, and bore it swiftly 
 through the grounds to the door of Monsieur Lamort 
 -an open door, through which he strode without 
 ceremony. 
 
 A slave the new slave, Venda came forward 
 at the sound of feet on the tiled floor, and raised her 
 hands with a gesture of wonder at the sight of the 
 young stranger bearing a lady in his arms ; but with 
 ready comprehension she led the way to a couch. 
 
 " How can I serve, master?" she asked, as he laid 
 his charge on the soft cushions. " Is it sickness is 
 it hurt?" 
 
 "A fright that, I think, is all. Care for her 
 quickly tell your master ah! do anything but 
 let her lie there looking like death ! " 
 
144 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Venda called for a black girl to bring water, 
 another to bring wine ; and in the midst of her 
 work of chafing the girl s hands she looked up at 
 Chevalier Delogne with a look of comprehension in 
 her seldom-smiling eyes. 
 
 " You drink also of the wine," she nodded "all 
 your face white like lady s. Lady will live ; its heart 
 beats good now. Master comes ; master knows medi 
 cine him tell you." 
 
 And just at that moment Monsieur Lamort entered 
 the room, drawing back at first when he saw 
 strangers, and then recognizing Delogne he came 
 forward, with surprise and interest at sight of the 
 figure on the couch. 
 
 " A lady, and one in the dress of a nun ! " he 
 exclaimed. " Well may our local government be 
 called faulty when such a one dare be abducted ere 
 darkness is well over our streets. Venda, you know 
 most people who is this ? " 
 
 " Master, she is the Convent Child." 
 
 " But there are many children under the care of 
 the good nuns, and they all have names." 
 
 Venda bowed her head. 
 
 " All have names," she agreed ; " this one is called 
 Sister, and Denise, and the old people call her the 
 Convent Child." 
 
 Monsieur Lamort s eyes were bent on the uncon 
 scious face with a strange baffled expression, as one 
 who tries to recall some elusive memory. 
 
 " A most lovely maiden," was all he said. " Care 
 for her well, Venda." And then he turned to speak to 
 the gentlemen. But Chevalier Delogne was walking 
 
DENTSE OF THE CONVENT. 145 
 
 to and fro with noticeable anxiety, casting every 
 now and then a look toward the privileged couch, 
 and scarce seeming to see the host or think of 
 conversation. 
 
 And the older man must have had a wondrous 
 amount of comprehension of even youth s leanings, 
 for he raised his brows in a comical way and met 
 the glance of Constante with a smile. 
 
 " Ah, well ! Jove might be pardoned, for she is a 
 wondrous fair maid," he remarked ; " and now tell 
 me how it occurred. Have you anything by which 
 you could identify those blacks? " 
 
 " Not I. To me every man of them is as a twin 
 to the last one I saw, save when one is either very 
 large or very small, very old or very young." 
 
 " And they fled whither ?" 
 
 "Across your grounds and toward the river. 
 Now I remember me, they said 4 to the boat. Faith ! 
 I might have followed them. I did not have the 
 lady to carry." 
 
 The lady was reviving under Venda s hands, and 
 Monsieur Lamort drew near as she spoke. 
 
 " Ah ! those wretches ! have they brought me 
 here ? You are his slave you - 
 
 Her head dropped back weakly, and Venda gave 
 her a little wine despite her shrinking murmurs. 
 Monsieur Lamort saw she was still frightened, and 
 spoke. 
 
 "Those wretches you fear have been beaten away 
 by these gentlemen," he explained. " Chevalier, 
 will you come forward and reassure the lady ? She 
 
 seems uncertain as to the hands she has fallen into." 
 10 
 
146 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Maurice did so, blushing- with pleasure as her gaze 
 rested on him, and seemed to say, " I trust you." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, be quite sure that in the house of 
 Monsieur Lamort you are safe. This is he. He 
 is glad to serve you, as are we all. Can you but give 
 us a hint as to who your enemy is, that we may 
 punish him?" 
 
 She turned her eyes to the face of Venda. " You 
 
 you," she muttered, unsteadily. That white-crowned 
 head seemed to hold her attention closer than the 
 others. 
 
 "This is Venda, my slave," explained Lamort. 
 " Do not be afraid ; she is kind of heart." 
 
 " I know," said Denise, more clearly ; "but she is 
 the voudou woman she is the slave of Don 
 Zanalta." 
 
 Her voice had a ring of accusation ; but Monsieur 
 Lamort seemed not to notice it. 
 
 " No ; until yesterday it was so, but now she is 
 of my household, and is at your service." 
 
 She breathed a little sigh of content, and closed 
 her eyes for a moment, but the color was once more 
 creeping into her lips. 
 
 " And I am really in the house of the powerful 
 Lamort?" she asked at last, with a sort of childish 
 pride. " How strange that seems ! " 
 
 " Only the manner of your coming seems strange 
 to me," answered the man she called powerful. 
 " My house will always be honored on the days 
 when the garb of your order enters it, mademoiselle. 
 But you seem to know every one and his calling 
 here." 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 147 
 
 " I know you," she assented. " They say you are 
 pitiless to the rich in the court of law, but I only 
 know you as one who is good to the sick, and who 
 gives money to the convent that the poor may be 
 cared for. Ah! monsieur, I have divided many 
 loaves among the infirm loaves paid for with your 
 gold. You are in our prayers often ; it is not strange 
 that I should know you." 
 
 "Then am I more blest than I dreamed of, my 
 child." And he bowed as to a princess, and touched 
 her fingers with his lips, an act that sent a rosy flush 
 over her pale face. " You give me strength to with 
 stand all the thunderbolts of the nobles when you 
 speak so graciously of the little I have done for your 
 poor." 
 
 " Young mistress drink more wine little bit?" 
 queried Venda ; but the girl shook her head, and 
 her eyes passed over the slave and rested on the 
 two younger men. 
 
 " I think I can rise now, and I should like to thank 
 those gentlemen," she said, shyly ; but the effort to 
 stand was ineffectual, and Monsieur Lamort gently 
 reseated her among the cushions. 
 
 " Not yet, mademoiselle one does not get over 
 a smothering so quickly ; and as for these gentlemen 
 who have been so fortunate as to serve you, they 
 are quite ready to receive their reward here at 
 your feet." 
 
 With a gesture he brought them nearer, and 
 Constante bent low as his name was uttered. 
 
 " I assure you, mademoiselle, we did not half 
 enough in your case. I should at least have brought 
 
148 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 you those slave-heads on a salver. I have not 
 earned a kind look from you. I was not allowed to 
 even lift you from the ground. It was my comrade 
 Chevalier Delogne whose arm and sword did 
 you service." 
 
 " You ! " she said, and looking at Maurice, held 
 out her hand ; but she seemed to find no other 
 words for him, only the shy proffer of her hand, and 
 her eyes thanked him, and to tell the truth he 
 looked as though fully recompensed despite her 
 scant words ; but to Constante she could speak more 
 freely. 
 
 " Nay, monsieur, I am sure your words are less 
 valiant than your deeds. You are at least stanch 
 to your friends, and though I have known few gen 
 tlemen, I am convinced that such men are always 
 the bravest in time of need. You came at my need 
 to-night, and I thank you both." 
 
 "If you could only give us some clue as to the 
 enemy who would do you harm," ventured Mon 
 sieur Lamort. 
 
 But the girl raising her eyes met the level ques 
 tioning gaze of Venda. The face of that slave 
 seemed to disconcert her in some way, and she 
 answered, hurriedly: 
 
 " I ? an enemy ! Sir, if you would ask of all 
 New Orleans who would harm Denise, the answer 
 would be, Not one of us. 
 
 "Then perhaps some stranger?" suggested De- 
 logne. " Those who traffic in slaves would scarce 
 hesitate as to whom they would kidnap. Mademoi 
 selle, when it pleases you to walk again after night- 
 
DENISE OF THE CONVENT. 149 
 
 fall, pray let us know ; I can promise you at least a 
 guard of two." 
 
 " Believe me, monsieur," she replied, in evident 
 distress at what she mistook for reproof, "to-night s 
 delay was an unusual accident, and even now the 
 good sisters will be much disturbed at my absence ; 
 I must go." 
 
 She arose with more determination, and despite 
 Monsieur Lamort s entreaties declared she was 
 strong enough for the walk, which was but short. 
 
 " I will at least send with you a woman, lest you 
 have need of her," he declared ; " and, gentlemen, 
 which of yoti 
 
 " If mademoiselle will allow me the privilege, I 
 will gladly be her escort," answered Delogne ; 4 and 
 Constante 
 
 " He will follow after to see that you return that 
 no one kidnaps you on the way home," Constante 
 amended ; " and, by the way, I ve just had a fancy as 
 to who those blacks were working for. Does Mon 
 sieur Rochelle of the Sea Gull add the kidnaping 
 of ladies to his long list of accomplishments?" 
 
 "Nonsense! Raynel. We have made mademoi 
 selle quite nervous enough with our conjectures," 
 warned Delogne; " and, after all, we have little foun 
 dation to go on how could we, being strangers? 
 But of course you would want to draw your latest 
 enthusiasm into the affair. You talked of him 
 to-night until misfortune was brought to those who 
 walked our road ; so I beg of you - 
 
 Monsieur Lamort glanced at them both, and 
 caught the careless smile on the face of Constante. 
 
150 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Is Monsieur Rochelle so privileged as to be 
 among your friends, then?" he inquired. "If so, 
 you surely have been making rapid strides in your 
 knowledge of the New World and the people who 
 live in it." 
 
 " He is a romancer," explained the chevalier, " and 
 this Rochelle is simply the latest mystery he has 
 stumbled on. The things one does not know about 
 a man are always myterious to the visionary." 
 
 " I protest, monsieur, that the Capitaine Rochelle 
 is mysterious to many besides this gentleman," 
 smiled Denise. " I confess he is so to myself." 
 
 "Ah, mademoiselle," and Constante s hand touched 
 his lip and breast in most profound obeisance, " I 
 pledge myself your faithful servant for so graciously 
 coming to my rescue. Then this picturesque char 
 acter is interesting also to you ? " 
 
 " I can scarcely say that, since I have never yet 
 looked on him, monsieur; but there are strange 
 tales told of his doings, and I have liked to listen to 
 them." 
 
 u But not to-night, I beg you," said Monsieur 
 Lamort, with a. smile. " It is bad enough for a 
 lady s nerves that she begin the evening with kid 
 napers, but to finish it with a recital of wicked old 
 sea-kings it would surely prove fatal to sleep ; and 
 when I call to inquire after you to-morrow I hope 
 to hear an account of dreamless rest." 
 
 " I would that you might come," said the girl, 
 simply, " that our good abbess might thank you with 
 more fitting words than I can use. And now it 
 grows late, gentlemen, and I must go. Yes, I will 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 151 
 
 accept also the service of the black woman, mon 
 sieur, and I thank you I thank you." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MAN ROCHELLE. 
 
 THOSE drifting clouds had been wafted westward 
 by a persistent wind of the sea, and the stars twinkled 
 unmolested over the waters where the reeds grew, 
 and those alluring shadows where huge alligators 
 heaved up heavily from their favorite playground. 
 
 No moon shone, and a gloomy magnificence 
 seemed the prevailing tone of the night. Afar off a 
 twinkle along where the land and water met would 
 show keen eyes where the town lay ; but out there 
 in the alleys of the marshes not a light shone. A 
 ghostly bird drifted low over the reeds at times and 
 buried itself in the far cypresses. 
 
 Yet a schooner lay moored there in a lane so nar 
 row no coastman would have discovered her. The 
 pilot who guided her over that water-path must have 
 had help of angels or of devils ; and the latter were 
 commonly supposed to man her, for it was the Sea 
 Gull. 
 
 Everything was so still about her one might have 
 fancied her a phantom vessel. But suddenly two 
 figures appeared on deck, and the taller ordered a 
 boat lowered. 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Do you go back to shore to-night?" asked the 
 soft French voice of a creole. " Ah, my Capitaine, 
 you are ever restless when so near the shore that 
 you live on both land and water. For me I would 
 rather see you set sail from this country once more, 
 and let us linger in those South seas where the 
 Spanish and Americans need never make us weary 
 with their clashings." 
 
 " Wait, Robert ; when the night of life comes 
 closer we will have a chimney-corner somewhere, 
 and a good bottle ever beside it there we will doze 
 in content, but not to-night. Does that prospect 
 please you?" 
 
 " Aye ; but the flakes of snow in my hair are 
 already many," said the other, ruefully. You will 
 have us wait and wait for evening in this world 
 to claim our rest, but ere we know it we will have 
 reached a morning in another, and the rest will have 
 been left with yesterday." 
 
 The other laughed, and stretched his arms as a 
 man who is only weary of inaction. " Chut ! Sup 
 pose now you were called to a battle, eh how 
 much repose would you halt for then ? No, you 
 only play your infirmities to remind me of my own 
 years years, bah ! I feel like a boy again when I 
 hear the kiss of these waters and the music of these 
 reeds. The night always plays the devil with me ; 
 it bewitches some people, I think. When I was 
 young, darkness on the water made me ambitious to 
 do one of three things : fight the English, whom I 
 hated, play grand music such as I had never heard, 
 but loved, or " 
 
THE MAX ROCHELLE. 153 
 
 He ceased .speaking and watched some ripples on 
 the water made by some unseen sea-creature. 
 
 " Or make love to some fair senorita, eh? " added 
 the other. But the communicative mood appeared 
 to have left the commander. He straightened -up 
 and looked across the dim vista to the tiny twinkles 
 along the shore. 
 
 " You have never been a lover, Robert, else you 
 would know love makes itself," he answered ; and 
 then added, abruptly, " Lower the boat ; Nicholas 
 will take me across. Weigh anchor an hour before 
 day breaks all will be aboard by then. Make no 
 stop until the Apalachees are reached." 
 
 " It is only au rcvoir, Capitaine ; you will sail with 
 us again ? " 
 
 "It is always only au rcvoir; Robert. An hour, 
 a night, a lifetime, and we are together again! 
 So until we meet 
 
 Then the boat dipped with a splash into the dark 
 water, and the capitaine descended, spoke a few 
 words to a wiry dark man bearing the oars, waved 
 his hand to his mate, and dropped full length on the 
 rug of skins spread in the stern, his face turned up 
 toward the sky as though to read something of 
 import in the stars. 
 
 The oarsman glanced at him from time to time, 
 but ventured no word to disturb the thoughts of the 
 one musing there. They were speeding over the 
 water in a boat so light that it flashed through the 
 resisting ripples as a thing alive, and a curl of foam 
 spread outward like wings on which they were 
 borne. 
 
154 
 
 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 And the lights along the shore grew larger. 
 Once the man in the stern noted them and raised 
 his head. 
 
 " Rest the oars, Nic. It is early. I have no long- 
 ing for those shores ; it is better here wild and free 
 on the waters. How do you feel about it? " 
 
 "I? The water is good yes." The man had 
 the words and the curled hair of the black, but not 
 the features. He wore an Arab-looking scarf about 
 his head and beads glinted on his belt. 
 
 " But what of the shore ? " persisted the master, 
 and pointed landward. " That is the land of your 
 people, your mother s people ; how do you feel when 
 you come in sight of it the fair domain of the 
 Spanish king?" 
 
 The sailor threw back his head and looked at the 
 questioner through eyes suddenly narrowed. His 
 teeth showed in a sinister way when he spoke. 
 
 " How you know what man feel here, even if he 
 never speak word?" he demanded. "You know 
 how I am made to feel," and he touched his brow 
 and breast. " You know maybe how I want all the 
 knives the Spanish make to be put in one big knife, 
 and I want all the strength of all the Indian and all 
 the black blood over the sea to be put in one man s 
 arm my arm that I could cut the whites who 
 are thieves from out this country, and pile them 
 many as the stalks of corn when the harvest is. If 
 the priests would give me prayer like they do white 
 man, I would ask that the rainfall of all the world 
 for one year be given in a night to our great river, 
 that it might sweep the Spanish and the other bad 
 whites into the sea ! " 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 155 
 
 His face was the face of a devil, and his voice had 
 in it the hiss of a serpent. But the white man 
 opposite watched him with unmoved scrutiny ; a lit 
 tle smile as of sympathy touched his lips. 
 
 " Yes, you can hate, Nic," he observed. " Did 
 your Indian mother teach you that? " 
 
 " No ; I was only a little child when she was sold 
 away again. But blood tells you things to feel 
 though no one says words to you, heh ? " 
 
 " Does it?" asked the other, watching him as 
 though it was a curious specimen he was studying 
 and understanding. " Let me hear what it tells 
 you." 
 
 " Ugh ! " And the fellow leaned forward on the 
 oars that crossed his knees. " It tells me voudou 
 things, for they were lived when I was not born ; 
 tells me of my mother, a maid of the Natchez, of 
 snaring her in the woods, and shutting her in the 
 ship till the Cuba was reached the white thieves 
 did that ! They gave her on that island to a black 
 man for a wife, and my blood tells me she wanted to 
 kill him, just as I wanted to kill him when I grew 
 older and saw him asleep in the sun. Some black 
 men good him not good. She hated like I hate 
 - I know. Then when her master sold her, but not 
 me, she ran quick up where the cliff rises from the 
 sea and let herself fall where the sharks lay. Every 
 time I see a shark I think of the white men who 
 live along the river that was ours." 
 
 The other man made a queer little sound like 
 a laugh in his throat. 
 
 " There are men who would deem such a posses- 
 
156 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 sion as Nicholas a thing of danger," he soliloquized; 
 and then aloud, " Do you know it is my people you 
 are throwing hate at? " 
 
 " I know," assented the fellow. " You bought me 
 out of hell, and I would make myself a carpet for 
 your feet, but I can not kill the hate for the grand 
 white rulers over there. I can not ; I do not want 
 to." 
 
 " Nor I either," muttered the other. He lay there 
 quiet for a little while, master arid slave alike 
 steeped m reverie, the oars forgotten. They drifted 
 noiselessly under the stars, and the man who was 
 white clinched and flung out his hand, with an 
 imprecation, as if some audible expression must be 
 given to his feelings. 
 
 "Ah, the accursed lot with their paltry titles, 
 their toy aristocracy with its paper walls of caste ! 
 How I long to crush it like a bit of rotted fruit 
 under my heel!" Then he looked across at the 
 sailor, and thought, " He hates like that because of 
 wrongs done ere he was born he, a slave! Then 
 how much my hate should exceed his I who bear 
 in heart and brain the cursed records their jeweled 
 hands have written ah ! Take the oars, Nicholas ; 
 we will move inland. Keep your words about the 
 whites for my ears, my lad ; no other will under- 
 stand them so well. You are a good hater, and such 
 a one is faithful it is good." 
 
 The sailor nodded, and again the boat seemed to 
 wake into life at his touch ; and as they sped over 
 the waters one could picture a tryst to be kept 
 where lattices were not too closely locked, and the 
 
THE MAX ROCHELLE. 157 
 
 man in the stern a cavalier who could carry a knife 
 for a love as well as kisses. 
 
 Not a youthful man by any means, though his 
 full beard was black, and the hair too, hair tied back, 
 but not netted or braided, just left in curled locks 
 about his brow and throat, joining his beard until 
 his eyes and upper face were simply framed in the 
 silky darkness a sea-king truly in appearance, and 
 one would judge him Spanish, yet by his own words 
 he hated the Spanish, and each man of his vessel 
 was of part Indian blood a very good reason for 
 the suspicion that he also was connected with some 
 tribe. 
 
 Nicholas avoided skillfully all craft in the river 
 and guided his boat less swiftly and in perfect 
 silence along the shadowy shore, passing here and 
 there the "flatboats" of Kentucky traders, and of 
 insidious English, who could be trusted for but one 
 thing their certainty to draw strength, as a vam 
 pire sucks blood, from the very heart of the French 
 and Spanish colonies. 
 
 The rjlace they were approaching was by no 
 means the select corner of the town. Hostelry and 
 cafe elbowed each other in house of logs and house 
 of plaster; women s laughter came out across the 
 water at times, and the tinkle-tang of the banjo, or 
 the softer, deeper music of a guitar. 
 
 In one of those places a woman the wife of 
 the accommodating proprietor was singing a song 
 for the pleasure of some Amfricains, who paid 
 for wine and ate and drank like savages a very 
 spirited song, full of so much revolutionary spirit 
 
158 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 that a Spaniard in the military dress raised his 
 finger and shook it at her, with a smile of reproach. 
 But as Senor Grenadier did not look at all ferocious, 
 she rewarded him with a little moue that was like a 
 mute invitation to a kiss, and finished the ballade in 
 triumph. 
 
 " If ill fortune did not force me to be on guard in 
 an hour, I would remain, to be sure that no revolu 
 tionary seed was sown here," he said, jokingly, over 
 his cigar. " Do you know, Madame Manette, that 
 your pretty songs might not be much liked by the 
 senors of the Cabildo ? To be sure you only mean 
 to be merry, but they are dull to comprehend a jest, 
 and if others of the guard should chance in I would 
 have to beg you to cease you comprehend? I 
 only speak in the interest of peace, for civil war is 
 an ugly thing to manage, and from a song might 
 grow a battle." 
 
 "Oh, we thank you, Senor Soldier." And all 
 madame s pretty teeth shone. " It pleases the 
 rangers to hear those ballades of Paris and the 
 revolt, but I assure you I will not sing them for the 
 nobles of the Cabildo; but for your good-will I 
 promise to sing any Spanish song you ask for when 
 you come again. Bucnas nochcs, senor." 
 
 After the departure of the gentleman of the 
 guard, all the remaining visitors were of the ranger 
 class. Kentuckians, with their long knives and 
 their flint-lock muskets, sat around enjoying Spanish 
 tobacco and French wine, though the older ones 
 invariably called for rum, and then the spirits dis 
 tilled at Jamaica filled many a cup quickly emptied. 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 159 
 
 Then there were the semi-French, semi-Indian 
 voyageurs, with their fur-trimmed garments, and the 
 bright gleam of quills and beads glinting over them 
 as they turned in the light. Many slim young faces 
 belonging- to bodies lithe and alert as deer-hounds, 
 and in their expression a sagacity not seen in the 
 young faces of the courts a keen directness to see 
 and judge though there in the cafe by the river 
 their whole attitude spoke of relaxation. They had 
 come far through the wilderness ; had reached, per 
 haps for the first time in a year two years a place 
 where music sounded, where men were merry, and 
 where a roof was the usual thing to sleep under 
 instead of the high sky and the un walled horizon. 
 
 So they paid out their bits of silver coin for the 
 enjoyment so rare to them, and on the tables where 
 they had eaten, the platters were pushed aside and 
 playing-cards were produced. Pretty Madame Man- 
 ette was most helpful in forming the games; and 
 an hour after the Spanish guardsman left more than 
 one player had little piles of silver before him and 
 was striving for the smile of Dame Fortune. 
 
 It was then that a newcomer entered a man in 
 long cloak and slouch-hat, who stood inside the door 
 and swept the room with keen eyes, as if in search 
 of known faces, and not finding them, advanced 
 indifferently. 
 
 " Any one been here for me, madame ? " he asked, 
 as one who is acquainted. 
 
 " No, Senor Zanalta, not yet; but the night is yet 
 early. You see all these are strangers of the north 
 countries, traders and trappers no more." 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " More are coming now." And Zanalta looked 
 toward the door, where steps were heard, but he 
 stepped back into the shadow until the newcomer 
 was seen. 
 
 There was no concealment, however, about the 
 stranger. He strode in and looked around, with a 
 wave of his hand that bespoke good-fellowship. A 
 boy at one of the tables was whistling an air, and 
 ceased in the midst of a strain to place his money, 
 when the stranger coolly took up the measure and 
 whistled the finale of it himself, causing all the 
 heads to turn toward him ; and the youth grinned in 
 a puzzled way, feeling honored by the drollery of so 
 imposing a person directed toward himself. 
 
 "Cracky!" called one of the Amc ricains. "If you 
 can play, mister, as well as you can pipe I ll not be 
 one to enter a game with you, though I d cheerfully 
 pay for your rum to hear the whistle again." 
 
 Anon , returned the other. And how goes your 
 world, Madame Manette ? Faith, you grow more 
 charming with each return trip I make to your 
 port." 
 
 " Then is it seemly I should beg you to come with 
 more frequency," she returned, with an innate 
 coquetry in her shrug and glance. " Though Capi- 
 taine Rochelle can not enter our door too often, 
 because of the merry spirit he ever brings with 
 him. But see, monsieur, there is some one besides 
 me to greet you Don Zanalta." 
 
 " Well met, most gracious senor ! " And the hat of 
 Rochelle was lifted with an exaggerated flourish. 
 A spirit of bravado seemed natural to him ; even his 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 161 
 
 voice, deep and somewhat husky, had ever a sugges 
 tion of buried laughter. 
 
 But the smile of Don Zanalta was not very cordial 
 as he returned the salute. " It is pleasant, of course, 
 to know that our friends are merry over meeting us, 
 monsieur," he said, in a tone showing chagrin ; " but 
 why take this canaille into our confidence?" 
 
 "Oh ho ! " laughed Rochelle ; " that, amigo mio, is 
 one of the disadvantages of being one of the noble. 
 The rulers of the land must never be seen in the 
 modest corners of their domains without a mask, lest 
 they be thought to possess modest aspirations them 
 selves. But I thank the good God I am not proud, 
 in proof of which I am willing to empty a bottle 
 with you, even in this unaristocratic corner." 
 
 The mockery set Zanalta s teeth tight on his lip, 
 but he followed to a table in the corner, though evi 
 dently unwilling. 
 
 " You are, to say the least, in a devil of a mood, to 
 choose this place for meeting," he persisted. " Why 
 not the cabin of your own vessel ? " 
 
 " I can see the cabin of my own vessel every day 
 in the year, if I choose," he returned, carelessly. 
 " But I fancy new faces and walls sometimes. I 
 fancy corners of Orleans unspoiled by the conven 
 tional shackles of aristocracy. You comprehend, 
 my noble friend ? And then the songs of madame 
 have always excellence more than is apparent in 
 the wine she serves us." 
 
 " It is natural you should grow fastidious," assented 
 Zanalta. " You yourself have choice of so many 
 
 wines in your voyages to 
 11 
 
162 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Rochelle laughed. " Never mind the port. You 
 know you enjoy it all the more from the supposed fact 
 that it belongs to lawless traffic. Of course you are 
 a good subject long live the king! but how you 
 all love to cheat him of his perquisites." 
 
 " Be wary, Senor Capitaine ! In your choice of 
 meeting-place who can tell what ears listen ? Who 
 can be sure that the Spanish guard will not echo 
 your steps as you leave here ? " 
 
 "True true enough," assented Rochelle, with a 
 wise smile in his eyes. " But have I not friends in 
 Orleans who will see that no harm comes to me from 
 the state ? I can mention at least six whose good 
 hearts would not let me suffer yours heading the 
 list, amigo mio. But " - and his brow showed a deep 
 wrinkle " where is our friend Senor Ronando 
 to-night ? Is his stomach too weak for this ? " And 
 he nodded toward the assembly in the center of the 
 room. 
 
 " No ; it is awkward, senor, excessively so, but the 
 money he owes you it is impossible for him to raise 
 at this season. His father, the old judge, holds him 
 in bad favor for other things just now." 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 " Yes ; his highness has suddenly drawn the lines 
 very tight about poor Gabriel, though to be sure 
 it is more the fault of Monsieur Lamort than any 
 other. He has been unearthing buried and forgot 
 ten laws, and from his own eminence he looks on all 
 pleasant folly as a crime, and wherever he finds laws 
 to agree with him he takes exceeding pains to 
 enforce them." 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 163 
 
 "You have mentioned this Lamort ere this, so 
 have others." And Rochelle looked interested. "The 
 aristocrats give him wishes that are near curses, I 
 hear, but the canaille look on him in a different 
 light. Drink down your wine, and tell me of this 
 priestly law-giver." 
 
 " Priestly, no; I have never seen him enter a 
 church. But he has a scent like a fiend for a path 
 that is crooked, and chains for a neighbor of his that 
 walks in it. I tell you it is well for you that King 
 Charles men and not Victor Lamort have an 
 interest in knowing when your cargo is unloaded - 
 and where." 
 
 " Bah ! a French adventurer who tries to climb 
 to high places by dragging others down." 
 
 " Not quite. He has refused the high places so 
 far offered him ; therein lies his influence with the 
 Cabildo with the governor himself. When a man 
 punishes vice through love of virtue, you must agree 
 he becomes somewhat of a wonder, and wonders 
 have their influence." 
 
 "And the aristocrats do not love him, though 
 they sit at his table, I dare say. Could you not take 
 a friend of the sea with you some fine evening when 
 you want to sup? " And Rochelle laughed quietly at 
 the dismay on Zanalta s face. "Never mind, I 
 shall call alone to present my respects to him some 
 morning ; and if debts of honor are not looked after 
 more closely in the colony I will take a hand in the 
 game of virtue played by Monsieur Lamort, and 
 might give him some points for his prosecution." 
 " Tut ! you are not serious." 
 
164 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Why not ? I might turn monk or saint yet, and 
 I count on my luck-money buying me peace with 
 heaven." 
 
 " Then I must contribute my share." And Zanalta 
 drew some rolls of gold from his pocket the gold 
 received for Venda and stacked them beside the 
 wine-glasses. " I should not want you left in purga 
 tory because of my debt." 
 
 " Lest my spirit should haunt you ? " said Rochelle, 
 with that laugh in his throat ; but the face of the 
 other changed to a quick frown. 
 
 " Make your jests on some other subject, if you 
 please," he answered, curtly. " I do not relish such 
 things." 
 
 "I see and I wonder why, amigo? Now if it 
 were I I am expected to know something of send 
 ing souls to paradise, and should grow nervous at 
 turning dark corners lest some soul shut out is wait 
 ing me there; but you why, you have been a 
 loyal subject, a proper man, and without a record 
 against you in the courts, so the unhappy dead will 
 not howl at you for a chance of revenge." 
 
 " Cease! can t you?" growled Zanalta, and tossed 
 down another goblet of wine. " By heaven, you are 
 a worse croaker than an old voudou ! I will talk to 
 you some other night ; I am going home." 
 
 "Why such haste? Better wait until the moon 
 comes up ; the night is at its darkest." 
 
 "Its darkest!" Zanalta dropped again into the 
 chair. "Then do something," he suggested; "get 
 the cards sing a song do anything but sit there 
 and talk of gruesome things." 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 165 
 
 " Just as you say I am ready for a game at any 
 hour of the night ; but I remind you that when we 
 played last you insisted you would not touch cards 
 with me again." 
 
 "True the devil played with you that night, 
 and I was vexed at your luck ; but to-night I will 
 not risk enough to spoil my temper." 
 
 The seaman was clearing the glasses from the 
 table, pushing them aside, and dropping the gold 
 in his pocket. 
 
 " You have not even looked at the amount there," 
 remarked Zanalta ; and the other smiled. 
 
 " Never fear that my Orleans friends who know 
 me will ever try to cheat me," he returned. " You 
 see how implicit is my faith in you ? " 
 
 Zanalta said nothing. He was galled by the thinly 
 veiled suggestion of Rochelle s speeches, and once 
 or twice that evening the idea came to him that 
 never before had he presumed to be quite so much 
 given to covert threats; and looking across at the 
 careless roysterer something of temptation to 
 murder crossed his mind. He hated so this fellow 
 of bravado and knowledge. 
 
 But the fellow played with the cards, and hummed 
 a love-song in a deep bass, and seemed to enjoy roll 
 ing out gold-pieces to make the game of interest. 
 
 " So Ronando is in disgrace eh ? " he asked, care 
 lessly. " Is there a cause ? " 
 
 Zanalta, : made a contemptuous motion of the 
 lips. 
 
 "Monsieur Victor Lamort has persuaded the 
 Alcaldes to that effect. The reason given is the 
 
166 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 breaking of the law under Article 6 of the Black 
 Code." 
 
 "Ah ! Has the persistent Lamort then discovered 
 that pretty Creole slave and her white-skinned child 
 on the Ronando plantation to the north? That is 
 a pity. He should have learned wisdom from his 
 father, who was too much of a fox to let his amuse 
 ments be known to his neighbors." 
 
 Zanalta, too astonished to speak at once, simply 
 stared. 
 
 " So you know that? " he said at last. " I have no 
 wonder that people call you a man from the devil." 
 
 " Do they call me so?" smiled Rochelle. " I take 
 it as a compliment to be thought unusual in these 
 straight-jacket days, when the Cabildo decides every 
 thing on Orleans island from the gate by which souls 
 enter heaven to the fashion of a man s temper on 
 earth. And so Monsieur Lamort is looking up those 
 troublesome old slave laws? What an unpleasant 
 neighbor he must be for you, amigo" 
 
 " I have not the honor to understand you/ 
 retorted Zanalta, with a scowl. But his opponent 
 only laughed, and dropped his last card on the table, 
 winning the game. 
 
 " You mean you have not the inclination," he 
 answered. " And there may, after all, be little to 
 understand ; only I have heard of some curious deal 
 ings on this soil dealings accepted by the local 
 government in past days and if this meddler 
 should chance on some of them well, more than 
 Ronando might have slaves confiscated, and acres 
 too." 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 167 
 
 "Ugh! Can t you speak of less somber things? 
 Tell me any word you have for Ronando." 
 
 " Only this, that within thirty days I must have 
 my money." 
 
 " Monstrous ! that is well, he simply can not 
 make settlement." 
 
 The smile in the eyes of Rochelle changed to a 
 fierceness a cruelty, and his fingers clinched. 
 One could tell by a glance at him then what a 
 tyrant the man might be when a passion of his was 
 touched. 
 
 " I am not accustomed to the words can not, 
 Senor Zanalta," he answered, with a cold sneer. 
 " Debts owed to me must be paid to me else - 
 
 "Well what?" 
 
 The seaman recovered himself at the question, 
 and the smile, like a dropped mask, was recovered. 
 
 " Oh " and he sent a shower of cards in the air 
 and caught them by some slight of the hand - "I 
 might think it my duty to kill him if he refused ; 
 and then I might simply lay the case before his 
 august father, the judge." 
 
 " Yes ; and be called on to stand a trial for smug 
 gling." 
 
 " Ah ! perhaps ; but, after all, who knows that I 
 smuggle, if I do? The gossips along the streets, 
 who repeat my name, and fancy me pirate, and 
 Indian, and devil which of them has ever seen me 
 dispose of a sou s worth of merchandise ? Not one. 
 And, on the other hand, the aristocrats like yourself, 
 who have a fancy for wine such as is drank in my 
 cabin well, if a boat touches the shore with kegs 
 
168 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 of that wine for you, are you going to give in evi 
 dence that you have cause to think I smuggled, for 
 you received the goods ? Ah, amigo mio, think not 
 to trap a wolf with cobwebs." 
 
 " But think of Ronando s necessities at present," 
 insisted Zanalta, as if not noting the argument 
 advanced. " He has but just been married, and " 
 
 Rochelle laughed heartlessly, and arose, slipping 
 the gold-bits into his pocket as though he loved the 
 sound of them, letting them fall one on the other 
 with slow deliberation. 
 
 " Married, is he ? That is good. A marriage no 
 doubt arranged with all proper ceremony by the 
 families, as the marriage of an aristocrat always is 
 -a marriage to make glad the heart of the old 
 judge eh? I like to think of that. Wedding- 
 bells ! Well, we can t have them down in this 
 corner, but we can have other jingles. Madame 
 Manette, wine for the house ! And how is it you 
 have no music and dancing to-night? Do you 
 assume mourning for the dead in Paris ? " 
 
 " No, monsieur ; but to tell you truly, that beast 
 that monster, Pierre, has been swilling some vile 
 stuff elsewhere, and he s now stupid under the table 
 of the kitchen. The violin is there yes, but not 
 one to play it; and these strange men from the 
 Kentucky do ask me to sing and sing, and I can sing 
 no more. That beast Pierre ! " 
 
 " Do not grieve your gentle heart, madame. Ho ! 
 lads, are there any of you would shake a foot if the 
 music was made? Good! Then listen. A bottle 
 of wine to the one who changes his steps oftenest, 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 169 
 
 and another to the one who can dance longest. 
 Now dance, you devils, dance ! " 
 
 And they did. Madame Manette had brought to 
 Rochelle the fiddle, and with one long draw of the 
 bow, like a wail, he played. 
 
 Zanalta, standing back near the wall, watched him 
 
 the hat thrown off, the foot keeping time gaily to 
 the music ; his laugh and his jests flung out to any 
 who challenged him. 
 
 " Fiddle ? Oh, yes ; and dance too, Madame Ma 
 nette, if you would be my partner." 
 
 " You play pretty airs, monsieur," she commented, 
 beating time with one graceful upraised hand. 
 
 " Why not ? Have I not your eyes for inspiration ? 
 You drive away prose, and I am young again to-night. 
 Encore, my lad that was good ! Come now, thou 
 hardy ranger, does the dance tire you so much 
 sooner than the chase ? Split the boards, my lad, 
 and another bottle is yours ! Dance now, dance all, 
 and the devil keep time ! " 
 
 So he played there, played, and jested, and laughed 
 
 a lusty Pan scattering gems of music on those 
 uncritical dancers. And the one cultured taste in 
 the cafe stood astounded at the revelation given of 
 musical talent something more than mere talent, 
 a wild sort of genius that spoke through his fingers 
 and set the blood tingling, the spirits leaping. 
 
 " A fiend, I truly believe ; and yet all the people 
 to whom he speaks wish him to speak again," mut 
 tered Zanaka. " By the saints, it was an ill day 
 when our paths crossed. Yet who knows even a 
 savage has, I suppose, some friend of whom he 
 
170 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 grows fond, and of all the men with whom Rochelle 
 has played he seems most kindly to me. Yes, even 
 Ronando noticed that, and thought my influence 
 but bah ! who can influence that bravo there if he 
 once sets his mind to be displeased? I wish with 
 all my heart he would play himself into a fit of 
 apoplexy." 
 
 And with this unchristian thought the Spanish 
 gentleman approached the fiddler. 
 
 "Well, Rochelle, since you are wed to music 
 to-night, I will take myself away. May I not hope 
 to take kinder words to Ronando ? " 
 
 " Assuredly, senor ; take to him what kindly word 
 pleases you all the love of your heart but from 
 me give him the thirty days." 
 
 And the musician smiled, and nodded to the 
 music, and to emphasize his words, and then added, 
 "A moment, senor. I may like your island well 
 enough to be within sight of it for a space. You may 
 need a friend, and I may let you know where I am 
 to be found ; but, amigo, do not come again with the 
 hat and cloak of a disguised brigand. I assure 
 you there are no assassins in these corners waiting 
 in the shadows with hidden knives." 
 
 Zanalta bowed, and walked out into the darkness. 
 
 " Perhaps not, Monsieur Rochelle," he said to him 
 self ; " we shall see." 
 
 The wild beat of the music rang through the 
 room and out into the night. One by one the 
 dancers left the floor until only two danced, encour 
 aged by the laughter of their companions until one 
 suddenly stood still. 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 171 
 
 "What a fool I am to hop like this when no 
 matter which of us wins the wine both will help to 
 drink it," he decided, with late-come wisdom. 
 Whereon the wine was ordered, and all drank thanks 
 to the music that had been like a bit of witchery to 
 their feet. 
 
 But the musician only smiled and nodded his 
 black head, not ceasing his playing, only drifting 
 into different themes music to sing with or pray 
 with, wild airs with storms of the seas rushing 
 through, and sweet calls as of birds after the rain is 
 over and the sun slips through the clouds. 
 
 He appeared oblivious or indifferent to the people 
 about him, though they had all grown less hilarious. 
 Their tones were lowered ; one youth even whispered 
 when he asked, " Who is that ? " And Madame 
 Manette crossed herself and shook her head. To 
 say for a surety that this was the laughing Rochelle 
 she did not know what to tell herself ; but she well 
 knew music like that had never been played before 
 under their roof. 
 
 And when he ceased all drew a longer breath. 
 They began to chatter aloud once more. When 
 madame came forward he handed her the violin and 
 some coin. 
 
 " That for the reckoning ; and there is Pierre s fid 
 dle I may borrow it again. Buenas noches y senora. 
 My lads, adios" 
 
 Not a laugh, not even a smile, as a finale for the 
 evening he had made so hilarious for them. He 
 pulled his hat over his eyes as one does when the 
 sun sets the sands or the water all a-glitter, and 
 
172 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 without further words walked straight through the 
 room and out. 
 
 "Begad, but that furrener is a curious mate to 
 cross trails with," said an old hunter. " I was a-think- 
 ing he d be a prime one to have on a trip if prov 
 ender was short. He d make ye forget all eating 
 and drinking if he had but a riddle." 
 
 " Aye, but I ll go bail he has his sullen fits too," 
 observed another; " and I d choose to be far away 
 when they touch him." 
 
 The semi-French voyageurs from the Illinois chat 
 tered of him in their soft patois, and gesticulated to 
 emphasize the spirit conveyed to them by the music ; 
 and one old north countryman puffed at his pipe 
 and frowned into the smoke as one does who tries 
 to collect scattered memories. 
 
 " Once did I know of one like to this this gentle 
 man of the museec," he remarked at last. " It was 
 of many years gone I have the memory of up 
 the big river to the place where the black gowns 
 built the crosses and taught to the sauvage men the 
 true religion. Yes ; I was young man then. He 
 was young man too a boy who loved the boat on 
 the water and the jungles, and who could sing the 
 songs of the birds, and traded all the skins he got 
 for new things of museec to play on. Ah ! the good 
 priest did make lament over that sometimes ; but 
 the boy was close to his heart after all." 
 
 " Pouf ! Is that all the tale you will tell of him? 
 Where did he range to with his songs and his 
 music?" 
 
 " We never did know. Once as it had often 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 173 
 
 happen he did enter a boat with the good Father 
 Luis to drift down where we are now. The good 
 father did return when the time was ready, but the 
 youth of the songs we never did see not any 
 more ; and I did not think to live to the day when I 
 would hear again sounds like he would make on the 
 fiddle, but it has been. I did hear it to-night when 
 the Spanish-spoken man made the museec." 
 
 But the finale of the old voyagcurs story did not 
 interest the younger members. It was unsatisfactory 
 to hear but a fragment of a life-story, and the old 
 man was questioned no more ; he was left to enjoy 
 in silence his pipe and his memories. 
 
 And the Spanish-spoken man ? 
 
 He was out alone under the stars and the pale late 
 moon, sitting on the side of an old boat left because 
 useless along the shore. The little lapping waves 
 came almost to his feet, and reflected broken frag 
 ments of those lights in the heavens. He had 
 walked up and down there in the loneliness of the 
 night for some time, as if in deep thought. The 
 boat from which he had alighted was not to be 
 seen ; but he did not seem to be looking for it, only 
 wanting a place alone in which to mutter either 
 curses or prayers, for each seemed to be finding 
 vent through his speech, as though he were bor 
 rowing an hour from life in which to let loose 
 some wild mood that even the music would not 
 serve to quell. 
 
 Yet, were not all the seas wide enough for any 
 discontent of his, that he sought this lonely bit of 
 one small island ? 
 
174 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Far off some guard on duty called the hour, and a 
 bell sounded across the water. It was midnight. 
 
 He arose at the reminder, and flung out his arms 
 as a man who is weary or slothful. 
 
 " An empty night after all," he muttered. " Well, 
 progress is a question of moods, and my mood was 
 wrong to-night; and then, well, even the devil 
 must grow tired tired at times, though he has his 
 own way in hell." 
 
 He looked around in the moonlight dimmed by 
 the fog. No moving thing was visible but the little 
 waves and their wreckage, though if his eyes had 
 been sharp enough to see through the darkness to 
 the heavy timbers a few paces away he would have 
 discovered a black form flat on the ground along 
 the shadow of the piled-up logs, passive as though 
 asleep. 
 
 But at the first step of Monsieur Rochelle the 
 head was raised ever so slightly listening listen 
 
 ing! 
 
 And as he walked slowly past, with bent head and 
 hands clasped behind him, the figure arose to its 
 feet and ran in a half-stooping, stealthy way, ready 
 to drop flat on the ground if the man ahead of him 
 should turn around. 
 
 But he did not. Once he halted and listened to a 
 sound that seemed to come from an open boat-house 
 just ahead of him and a little to the left ; but it was 
 not repeated, and he walked on close in the shadow. 
 
 But just as he reached it there was a sudden rush 
 of bare feet behind his back, a warning cry from the 
 boat-shed, a crushing stroke of a stick that cracked 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 175 
 
 and broke, a howl and a curse as some one staggered 
 hurriedly away. It was all done so quickly that 
 Monsieur Rochelle could but spring aside and turn, 
 with his hands on his pistols, when it was all over ; 
 and before him there stood only a slave-woman 
 with white hair and the splintered stick in her 
 hand. 
 
 " He is gone but see!" And she pointed near 
 his feet, where a sinister-looking bag of sand lay. 
 " Black man creep, creep where you not see but I 
 see, so I wait; I do so." And she made pantomime 
 of striking with the stick. " He feel me, see me- 
 think me voudou. He run heh ! " 
 
 "And this was for me ? " he asked, pointing to the 
 sand-bag, though his eyes never left the woman s 
 face. 
 
 " For you. He run ; he fling it back so, to let it 
 strike on your head. Then this fell heavy across his 
 eyes, and he make tracks quick across there." 
 
 She looked across there, but the river-fog had 
 blotted him out. She pointed, but the white man s 
 gaze did not turn from her. 
 
 " And you are " 
 
 " Venda, master," answered the woman, with one 
 beseeching look upward to him ; and then, as he 
 looked at her with only curious interest, she dropped 
 her head and crossed her hands on her breast. 
 
 " Venda ; it is a good name, girl. Are you free? " 
 
 " No, master. Venda not want freedom ; Venda in 
 happy home." 
 
 " Ah ! " And he gazed at her as though weighing 
 all her words, and the honesty in them. Might this 
 
176 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 assault be only a trick? Might the woman be a 
 spy who helped her work by doing him a service ? 
 " If your home is happy why do you walk abroad 
 when all home-loving people are sleeping in their 
 beds?" 
 
 She hesitated, and then touched her brow with 
 her finger in mute token of submission, and looked 
 up at him. 
 
 "Master, last night I slept in my bed my 
 first sleep in a bed that was new to me. In that 
 sleep I saw a man whose heart was angry walk on 
 these shores with a danger hanging from above. 
 All day has Venda kept the dream in her breast, 
 and when the night crept along and was old she 
 comes here alone to see. So it is, master." 
 
 " You are voudou?" 
 
 " So the people say to each other." And for the 
 first time something like a smile came about her 
 lips. 
 
 " Venda, and a voudou," he persisted ; " and what 
 else? " 
 
 " Faithful," she said ; and the words were low but 
 earnest, and her hands clasped each other tightly. 
 " Faithful if you ever come to a day when you want 
 one you can trust." 
 
 " And all this because of a dream, Venda?" 
 
 " Yes "--and her eyes met his with a sad, curious 
 look in them " all this because of a dream, master 
 -a dream." 
 
 "Well" -and he shrugged his shoulders and 
 thrust a hand in his pocket " if you wanted freedom 
 I would try and give it to you because of the good 
 
THE MAN ROCHELLE. 177 
 
 turn your dream has done me to-night ; but since 
 you are not to be bought, you will take a few coins 
 in memory of the stranger?" 
 
 She set her teeth close, and shook her head. 
 
 " Venda needs no gold not from you, master." 
 
 " Then what do you want ? " he persisted. " People 
 don t lose their sleep for half a night, and all for 
 naught, and for a stranger too." 
 
 "Maybe maybe not," she answered, vaguely; 
 " but if you ask of Venda you will hear that her 
 head thinks strange things maybe witch things. 
 So she thinks to-night. She has spoken to you, 
 master, and she thinks it will bring good luck. The 
 good luck is better than gold-pieces." 
 
 " H m! perhaps." And he kept watch on her 
 from under those black brows. " Do you choose to 
 tell me any more of yourself? " 
 
 " No, master. I dreamed, and I came here ; that 
 is all." 
 
 " If you ever see me again, will you, if you need 
 help, remind me of this night, that I may repay 
 you?" 
 
 She raised her head quickly at that, and her eyes 
 looked glad. 
 
 " Yes, Master Venda promise that; and she will 
 take one coin if you will put a mark on it, and on 
 the day when Venda shows it to you and asks a 
 favor you will say, It shall be. " 
 
 " Agreed ! This sounds like compacts the devil 
 binds souls with. Was it one of your imps you flung 
 into the fog just now? But I ll trust you if you 
 
 12 
 
178 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 will tell me one thing. Do you know who sent that 
 man with the sand-bag ? " 
 
 She hesitated, and then said, " Venda have to say 
 1 yes and no to that, master. She can t tell who 
 said the words, but she know that black man lives 
 on Master Ronando s plantation." 
 
 He nodded, and laughed silently. " You re honest 
 voudou, Venda. Here is your piece of gold ; it is 
 already marked with a hole through the king s 
 head some one trying to send him to paradise by 
 witchcraft, I ve no doubt. Now where will you go ? " 
 
 " Where you will, master." 
 
 " Then I will that you go to that house of yours 
 that you like better than freedom. Go ! There is 
 no danger for me in the night now ; I have been 
 warned. Go, and the saints be good to you, Venda." 
 
 " No no ! " she muttered, and held up her hand. 
 " Venda know that church meaning ; don t say that 
 to her. She don t ask you to say saints words to 
 her no, no! " 
 
 He caught her by the arm and turned her face 
 with a certain roughness toward the pale moon. 
 
 "You are a black woman, ain t you?" he de 
 manded, and then let her go, with an embarrassed 
 laugh. " By heaven, you are such a cursedly 
 strange creature that you start wild fancies in a 
 man s head you with your white hair and your 
 fear of blessings ! If any one doubts that you are 
 voudou send them to me, girl ; I am sure of it. Now 
 adios! " 
 
 " You will not forget the promise, and the hole 
 through the king s head? " 
 
THE VOUDOU. 179 
 
 " Never fear that I will forget the*hole through 
 the king s head." 
 
 She drew a long breath of content, and bowing 
 her head passed across the little circle of light and 
 into the fog-land. On the verge of it she cast one 
 glance backward. He was standing there in the 
 same place as if watching her ; then the veil of the 
 mist fell between them. 
 
 And as she walked swiftly onward her hands 
 were locked close over her breast. Once she pressed 
 the gold-piece to her lips. " I have served him," she 
 muttered, " truly served him, and he has given me 
 a token. Ah, Venda, luck is good to you since you 
 did throw away the knife of the man by the wine 
 shop good to you. See that you are faithful - 
 faithful to the dead ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE VOUDOU. 
 
 IN the days following, events proved the truth of 
 the report that Monsieur Lamort was really bring 
 ing to light forgotten slave-laws and making revela 
 tions a thing of dread to more than one family. 
 
 It was sad, indeed sad, lamented more than one 
 member of the older families. That was always to 
 be expected, however, from newcomers they so 
 often arrived on Orleans Island full of projects and 
 ambitions for the bettering of things. It takes time 
 
180 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 to convince sfrrangers that life in every land takes 
 coloring from and adapts itself to the influences of 
 the soil. It was folly to expect all at once a life in 
 the new country like that in the old. The laws? 
 Oh, yes the laws had been made, that was quite 
 true, and they were well meant, no doubt ; but 
 without doubt they had been suggested by just 
 such zealous enthusiasts as the good Monsieur 
 Lamort himself. For had there not also been a law 
 passed that the slaves must at a marriageable age be 
 joined in wedlock, with a priest, so please you, to 
 officiate ? Ah, there had been many a laugh in the 
 colony over that law, and finally the king was con 
 vinced there would be wisdom in annulling it. 
 
 But all were convinced that there yet remained 
 many of those old musty laws that should be repealed. 
 The sudden unearthing of Article 6 of the Black Code 
 was an assurance of the fact to the colonists who 
 owned slaves, and chose to keep them. 
 
 And Chevalier Delogne in his capacity of secretary 
 to Monsieur Lamort grew suddenly wise regarding 
 the many technical points of law, and daily wondered 
 at the vast amount of energy and zeal displayed by 
 his chief for the thing he considered justice. 
 
 Well might his abode be termed the refuge of 
 exiles, for truly not an outcast of any race or 
 tribe would find himself friendless but that some 
 one would direct him to the house of Monsieur 
 Lamort. 
 
 And in the gardens where Felice and Basil had 
 years ago pledged their passionate love-vows there 
 stalked the red men of the north asking council, the 
 
THE VOUDOU. 181 
 
 exiles of France asking friendship, and the ever- 
 present black with his endless grievances. 
 
 The owners of the blacks also came at times, 
 and discussed warmly some disputed point of right, 
 and outwardly at least they conceded their full 
 belief in the fact that the zeal of Monsieur Lamort 
 arose from motives most Christian. 
 
 But well, even the zeal of the blessed apostles 
 could easily grow into a nuisance if directed toward 
 a new colony where one had to make the best one 
 could of those animals the blacks ! But if any 
 of the planters ever thus expressed themselves, 
 Monsieur Lamort would only smile, in his serious, 
 courteous way, and chide them as a priest might for 
 their short-sightedness. 
 
 " Your children in the days to come will approve 
 if you do not to-day," he contented himself with 
 saying. And Delogne would marvel sometimes at 
 his even patience. 
 
 " Ah ! monsieur, do you never lose your temper 
 over anything?" he asked one morning when an 
 unusually tiresome audience had been given to a 
 Dutchman of the river above. " I look at you in 
 wonder." 
 
 "At your age I too would have marveled at 
 patience," nodded Lamort, with a smile. " Believe 
 me, no one is born with it." 
 
 "Glad am I of that assurance, Monsieur Lamort," 
 said a voice back of them, and Constante Raynel 
 came forward. " Were you discussing state secrets? 
 If so I will retire, and proceed to forget your words. 
 But I need patience so sadly myself, and was sent 
 
182 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 into this world so lacking it, that it is a consolation 
 to know it is a thing which grows by length of days, 
 and that I am not entirely peculiar in that respect." 
 
 "What is your quarrel now against life? "asked 
 Lamort. " Does our old earth go round too slowly 
 to suit your fancy, or has some model failed at the 
 moment when genius burned within you and you 
 desired to catch all the beauty of life for some 
 picture?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; you may laugh, and fancy Raynel 
 is the one soul on earth exempt from care," he 
 retorted ; " but I assure you I have my troubles too 
 very serious ones." 
 
 "Ah ! Which portrait did you commence ? " asked 
 Delogne, slyly, and laughed aloud when the artist 
 answered, with ill-concealed irritation : 
 
 " Madame Zanalta s." 
 
 " I knew it I was sure of it ! Ah, my painter of 
 beauty, you have made a little purgatory for your 
 self while you are yet alive, and heartily do I wish 
 that the lesson may teach you something of that 
 patience you deplore." 
 
 " Nay, Maurice," objected Monsieur Lamort. 
 " You surely attribute Monsieur Raynel s impatience 
 to the wrong cause ; for what gallant would ask a 
 greater happiness than to paint the likeness of his 
 lady-love ? I am loath to leave at the moment you 
 make your call, my dear sir, but I am expected in 
 the town so au rcvoir!" 
 
 Constante bowed with commendable self-posses 
 sion, but bit his lip as he discerned the humorous 
 twitch of the suave Frenchman s cheek, and stamped 
 
THE VOUDOU. 183 
 
 across the room twice after his exit ere he would 
 trust himself to speak. 
 
 " There ! do you see that? " he demanded. " Did 
 you note his meaning? What wonder that I am 
 half distracted! By heavens! if the banns of of 
 that antique and myself had been read from the 
 altar, people could not take more fully in earnest the 
 fact that I belong to her." 
 
 "And does that disturb you, mon ami?" asked 
 Delogne, trying to look serious, and sorting some 
 papers in a little mahogany case. " Do you fear the 
 lady will beat a retreat because of the general 
 acceptance of the fact?" 
 
 " A retreat ? " growled Constante. " Never ! You 
 don t know her. Death and devils ! to think that 
 I have crossed the seas only to fall into such fortune !" 
 
 " Pray sit down and tell me your perplexities with 
 more of composure," suggested Delogne. " Are 
 those sketches you carry? I should like to be 
 allowed to look at them when I have done with 
 these documents." 
 
 Constante placed the portfolio on a couch of old 
 Spanish leather, and walked the circuit of the room, 
 drawing back curtains, pushing aside draperies, and 
 peering into every shadowy corner, while the cheva 
 lier followed him with surprised eyes. 
 
 " On my life, but you assume strange habits in 
 this new land," he commented. " Will you be 
 pleased to tell me for what you are searching ? " 
 
 " Assuredly ; for something I am by no means 
 anxious to find that voudou creature with the 
 white head. You are a braver man than I, Maurice, 
 
184 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 or you would not be living where that sphinx is one 
 of the household. Ugh ! she makes my flesh creep 
 if she only turns round and looks at me." 
 
 u But do you not perceive it would be impossible 
 for her to be in that old water-pitcher?" laughed 
 his friend ; for Raynel was in all seriousness peering 
 into a silver pitcher that would hold oerhaps a 
 gallon. 
 
 " No ; where she he or it is concerned the word 
 impossible is not to be applied," returned the 
 searcher. " Have I not seen her suddenly arise 
 from a corner where no human thing was seen but 
 an instant before ? Do you remember our first even 
 ing here, and how suddenly she was in our midst 
 when some one expressed a wish for her? No ; if I 
 rest myself here for a chat I have no desire that her 
 satanic majesty form one of the party. Pray tell 
 me, does she ever in the world do aught but walk 
 around and make music with her anklets?" 
 
 "She is without exception the most devoted 
 creature to her master that I have ever seen in my 
 life," said Delogne, emphatically. "She seems to 
 divine by a look the thing he wants, while to the 
 other slaves he must speak." 
 
 11 If she would only speak occasionally she might 
 seem a bit less horrible to me; but she moves 
 about so silently, and looks at one in a way that says 
 she could say so much if she only wished to. I tell 
 you I m as bad as the blacks; I would not meet that 
 creature alone on a dark night ugh ! " 
 
 And he shivered at the mere idea of it ; but hav 
 ing finished his survey, he seated himself and 
 
THE VOUDOU. 185 
 
 watched Delogne, who was looking at the sketches 
 in the portfolio. 
 
 " Some of these are very interesting sketches, 
 Constante," he acknowledged, with friendly pride ; 
 " quite the best things I have seen of yours ; and 
 you have been making these little studies in such a 
 short space of time, too. I am glad to see you so 
 industrious. But as I understand your present work 
 to be of Senora Zanalta, how do you manage to 
 accomplish favorable results from the sketches made 
 of Madame Villette?" 
 
 " Eh ? Well you see Poor Raynel looked 
 red and uncomfortable. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; quite clearly case 999. And are 
 these sketches the reason of your discontent with 
 your present portrait work ? " 
 
 Constante groaned, and tramped about the room 
 again. 
 
 " I really wish you would not do that," complained 
 Delogne ; " you are as bad for one s nerves as the 
 voudou woman. Ah, Constante, you are ever a 
 slave to the last glance shot at you or the last hand 
 you have kissed." 
 
 "Slave ! not a bit of it," denied the poor fellow 
 with unnecessary vehemence. " But what is a man 
 to do when he is in a good working mood, and there 
 is only one thing of beauty in range of his eyes I 
 ask you now, what is he to do?" 
 
 " Just what you have done, I suppose," assented 
 his friend ; "but does not Senora Zanalta grow tired 
 of posing while you make sketches of the younger 
 lady?" 
 
186 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Tired ! you evidently have not the happiness 
 of knowing Senora Mercedes Zanalta very well. 
 If she wears all her jewels, and her brocades, and 
 has her hair dressed to her taste, she never grows 
 tired not for one instant will she leave that 
 throne-like chair of hers, or the room." 
 
 " And Madame Villette?" 
 
 " The most provoking, bewitching, and mischiev 
 ous lady it has ever been my perplexed fortune to 
 meet. She assumes all the airs of a chaperonne in 
 guard over a treasure I might be tempted to steal 
 think of it ! She is gracious to me at times in a 
 lofty manner, as though to remind me that I am 
 after all only an artisan while she is a grand lady of 
 rank ah, this cursed caste ! it rules here as in our 
 own land ; but then there are other times when 
 she grows charming, and laughs like a child, and 
 makes many a jest of both the portrait and artist, as 
 though she knew that the work on it is not pleasant 
 to me. She said to-day that of course she dared not 
 hope that the portrait I am to make of her will be 
 such a treasure as that I am doing now, and that it 
 was easy to perceive that my heart was in the 
 work. Ah ! women were given so many modes of 
 warfare." 
 
 " One can combat those who make war, and per 
 haps vanquish them," commented Delogne, with an 
 impatient sigh; "but how much more difficult 
 when one s fair adversary walks unconscious past 
 you, or tells her beads when you would endeavor to 
 meet her glance." 
 
 " vSo ! blows the wind with such a storm in that 
 
THE VOUDOU. 187 
 
 direction ? Ah, well ; a novice can not prove nearly 
 so vexatious as a widow of that I am sure. But 
 do you really mean that Mademoiselle Denise refuses 
 to entertain any regard whatever for you and 
 after you saving her life, too ? " 
 
 " Entertain a regard ! I have never yet dared to 
 suggest such a thing. Indeed, she seems entirely 
 unconscious of the fact that I am in the world. To 
 be sure she spoke sweetly that night that one 
 night; but when I called to inquire about her, it 
 was the lady abbess who received me, and bestowed 
 gracious thanks, but with it a wall of reserve con 
 cerning the mademoiselle, and mademoiselle herself 
 has evidently acquired a share of it. She walks no 
 more in the evenings, and she will not give me a 
 look." 
 
 " Willingly would I assist you if my wits would 
 but tell me how. I might of course break an arm 
 or two for you so that you could gain an entrance to 
 the hospital. You know she entertains a lively 
 interest for cripples." 
 
 " Possibly, but I will not put your friendship to 
 such a test as maiming me ; and ah, well even 
 that might fail to overcome her indifference. She 
 simply does not think of me, and of course there is 
 no visible reason why she should." 
 
 " How modest we are growing ! " remarked Raynel, 
 mockingly. But really it is a most fatal sign when 
 one begins to fancy himself unfit even for a lackey 
 to his lady-love. I ve felt so, often, but I always 
 realize through that feeling that I am growing 
 serious, and when one grows serious well, the 
 
188 FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 pain of love begins, and the laughter of it is 
 ended." 
 
 " You speak as a professor of the art, if art it be," 
 remarked Delogne, with some displeasure apparent in 
 his tone. " For my part, I should not fancy the love 
 turned out by your academy. The lesson of love 
 would surely read more musically from not having 
 been studied at all." 
 
 " Interesting as the subject is, I fear we must defer 
 it," sighed Raynel, gathering up his sketches, " for 
 see ! there come some gentlemen. Is not the one 
 Senor Ronando? The other is Villeneuve." 
 
 " Yes ; and a most pleasant gentleman. Of all the 
 youth in this town I like him the best." 
 
 "And the other?" 
 
 " Ah, I have not the privilege of knowing Senor 
 Ronando well." And the chevalier went forward to 
 meet the gentlemen, while Raynel smiled and told 
 himself that, after all, Maurice might turn diplomat 
 in the school of Orleans. 
 
 "Gone out gone out, has he? " sputtered Senor 
 Ronando, who was very fat and very short of breath. 
 " Ah ah ! that is a disappointment. It is seldom I 
 walk to any man s house, and now to find him out ! 
 Well, well, I will seat myself and recover my 
 breath ; patience may come with it. And may I 
 ask, my young sir,. who you may be that receives 
 guests in the absence of Monsieur Lamort?" 
 
 "Allow me to remind you," said Villeneuve, 
 quickly, " that this is the Chevalier Delogne, late of 
 Versailles, and at present of the household of Mon 
 sieur Lamort. You met him but yesterday in the 
 house of my father." 
 
THE VOUDOU. 189 
 
 " Possibly, possibly." And the old gentleman took 
 snuff with a fine air of indifference. " One can not 
 remember all the new faces crowding into our town 
 since this uproar commenced in France a most 
 ungodly country, let them say what they will. And 
 so you are the newcomer whom Lamort honors 
 with his confidence, eh ? Yes, I heard of it a 
 secretary. One would think he was the keeper of the 
 colony that he must have so many helpers." And the 
 caller looked sharply at Constante, who returned his 
 stare with great serenity. 
 
 " Monsieur Lamort is certainly a very busy man," 
 agreed Delogne, with cool courtesy, for Villeneuve s 
 eyes mutely asked toleration for the old man ; " and 
 I am proud to be the assistant of one so worthy." 
 
 " Aye, aye, no doubt ; but say what you will, it 
 makes trouble in a country when any one wants 
 business so much that he turns the laws topsy 
 turvy for pastime." 
 
 " Monsieur Lamort lives for more than pastime," 
 remarked Raynel, coolly. " He evidently tries to 
 improve his time, and times." 
 
 " Hah ! what s that ? " And Senor Ronando whirled 
 about, facing the speaker. " Since you have such 
 learned ideas, I should like to know by what name 
 you are called." 
 
 " By the same as at this time yesterday, at which 
 hour I had the honor to be introduced to you, Senor 
 Ronando," returned Constante, and turned away 
 after a bow excessively humble, while the impa 
 tient old gentleman blinked his eyes in utter aston 
 ishment. For Senor Jesus Maria Pietro Ronando 
 
190 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 was a very great personage on his own lands, and 
 was accustomed to much of submission to his ideas. 
 "Humph! More floatings from Versailles," he 
 murmured, audibly. " Well, Sir Secretary, can you 
 give me an idea at what hour Monsieur Lamort 
 would be pleased to return here? Gaston Ville- 
 neuve here will tell you I am not used to waiting in 
 an anteroom for an audience." 
 
 " Truly not," agreed the embarrassed Villeneuve. 
 " And may I beg to remind you, senor, that Cheva 
 lier Maurice Delogne is also unaccustomed to the 
 speech one offers to an ordinary clerk. His family 
 is noble as any in our land. Pray remember, my 
 dear senor." 
 
 " Assuredly yes," returned the other, with slight 
 attention. " Of late all who land with us are nobles, 
 it seems ; yet where is the advantage of noble 
 blood when a stranger without family, a merce 
 nary heretic, can land here and turn laws crooked 
 with the power of a purse? Our family is older 
 than the laws of Spain over this country, yet must 
 I run to a newcomer if I want justice secured. 
 Bah ! even our governor is influenced by this law 
 maker who prays in no church." 
 
 Villeneuve drew him to a window and spoke to 
 him alone, trying to quell his impatience and ill 
 temper ; and the other two strove for the young 
 man s sake to give no heed to the very awkward 
 comments. 
 
 " An ill-trained bear native to this wilderness, I 
 suppose," remarked Raynel, who was more vexed 
 than his friend. " My only wonder is that the colony 
 
THE VOUDOU. 191 
 
 has allowed him to live so long. I have heard often 
 of the beauty of Spanish courtesy. Is this the much- 
 commended thing ? " 
 
 " Do not believe it," said Delogne, decidedly. 
 " He is a bully who scolds, who catches words from 
 sailors, and tone from the northern English, and 
 between them the grace of Spain is lost to him if 
 he ever did possess it ; but he is old, he is annoyed, 
 so be heedless of him." 
 
 " Humph ! If I promise not to kill him it will be 
 all my conscience will let me agree to," decided 
 Raynel, with a pantomime of pitching articles of 
 furniture at the fat old aristocrat in the window, 
 who was viewing the grounds and property with 
 the eyes of reminiscence. 
 
 " This too one of the most excellent estates in 
 the colony it is grievous, Gaston, to think that it 
 too is mastered by a newcomer. Oh, yes, I know 
 he is thought much of by you, and many of the 
 others ; but I am no courtier, I thank the saints ! I 
 say what I choose when I have the reasons of a 
 Christian. And if the dead could walk, then would 
 Le Noyens surely come to protest against a heretic 
 slave-law agitator dwelling under the roof built by 
 him. Ah, he was a man for the country. Your 
 father knew him well a fair gentleman, who 
 ruled the blacks to his nod, and would brook no 
 w ord as to the mastering of his own household. 
 Alas ! I was like him once, but now I grow old." 
 
 " I have heard much of the tragic story of his end 
 ing," returned Villeneuve, glad to keep the vindic 
 tive mind beside him engaged. " Was there not a 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 song made of it? as a child I heard one sung by 
 my nurse. It was interminable, for each singer 
 added to it as his fancy prompted him. I know I was 
 kept quiet many a time by our Susette chanting : 
 
 Ohe! Bayarde the ranger 
 
 Did the deed the dark deed! 
 Listen, children listen, stranger! 
 
 Never more will he be freed. 
 
 Chains a-dragging 
 
 All along the road, 
 Back all broken 
 Underneath the load. 
 
 Listen, children! 
 And take warning, 
 
 Chained in the mine-land 
 You never see the morning. 
 Ohe! children! 
 All good children! " 
 
 The young man chanted the lines slowly, with 
 sometimes a pause in the effort at remembrance, 
 and the older gentleman nodded assent and beat 
 time with his gold-crowned walking-stick. 
 
 "You keep the swing of the old song well," 
 he said. " Yes, yes ; every child heard it in that day, 
 for the tragedy was a famous one because of the 
 woman in it there is always a woman, you know, in 
 the troubles of every man ; or maybe you do not 
 know it yet, but you will." 
 
 Because of their position they had not observed 
 Monsieur Lamort, who had entered and halted only 
 a few steps from them, and who now came forward 
 with his usual calm courtesy. 
 
 " Monsieur DeWne wished to apprise you of my 
 
THE YOUDOU. 193 
 
 return, but I motioned for silence that I might the 
 better hear the strange folk-song you were singing. 
 It is something native to the soil, I imagine?" 
 
 "Yes; the rhymed history of a tragedy Senor 
 Ronando was recalling to my mind. Among the 
 illiterate that fashion of memorizing is quite popular 
 here. An elopement, a murder, or even a grand 
 wedding is made into song and sung to the children ; 
 it is their only way of handing down traditions, and 
 is very popular among the black people." 
 
 "I have heard of their custom." And Monsieur 
 Lamort looked like one who is striving to be inter 
 ested while the mind is really in some other direc 
 tion. " And this song, is it of a grand wedding and 
 the histories of all the children that result ? One of 
 those songs I have heard here ; it told of a family for 
 three generations." 
 
 " On the contrary, this one is of murder and exile," 
 answered Senor Ronando. " A well-earned exile, in 
 which I am proud to say I assisted a foul murder 
 of a gallant gentleman." 
 
 " Ah ! You had personal knowledge of this par 
 ticular tragedy ? I understand, then, the interest of 
 Monsieur Villeneuve in the song. Has it a name ? " 
 
 " Bayarde, the Ranger, is the only one I ever 
 heard it called by," answered the young man. 4t And 
 many a doleful moment did I pass when as a child 
 I heard that song of the chains, and the mines 
 where the sunlight was never supposed to penetrate. 
 It brought me the first suggestion of life-long pun 
 ishment that ever came to me. Such things are 
 landmarks in the thought of a child." 
 
 13 
 
194 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Truly they are," assented Lamort, and glanced 
 at Delogne. " It seems, Chevalier, that we are to 
 hear much of this De Bayarde, though so little of the 
 more respectable bearer of the name ; but faults 
 will win attention, while virtues are too often 
 unheeded." 
 
 " Bosh ! " And Senor Ronando showed in his fat 
 face his satisfaction at possessing knowledge beyond 
 the rest. " That may be a fact, but in this case it 
 was not the crime he committed which made him 
 famous in the provinces, but the fact that the dain 
 tiest sefiorita in all these lands had opened her lattice 
 for his serenades that is the thing which made him 
 talked of ; and strange stories were afloat of dawns 
 when she had been seen stepping from his canoe and 
 speeding through these gardens to a door left open. 
 And there must have been some truth in it, else 
 would she have gone mad, as they say she did? " 
 
 11 The horror of the murder may have been suffi 
 cient reason for that," suggested Delogne. But the 
 senor looked displeasure at having the truth of his 
 theory questioned in the slightest. 
 
 " I have reasons for my suppositions, young sir," 
 he said, tartly. " Her uncle was my friend yes, 
 gentlemen, my friend, and a true son of the church 
 the vsaints find him rest ! So I was one who knew 
 her only female relative in this land ; and that lady, 
 Madame Solle (dead these several years), took charge 
 of her, and had a grievous time of it by her own 
 statement, for the girl Felice raved for months, 
 shouting for Basil that was the fellow s name - 
 until the blacks feared to sleep in the house with 
 
THE VOUDOU. 195 
 
 her. She could not be kept in the town at all, and 
 so was taken miles up the river to a small plantation 
 of the Solle family. Her grave is there, they say, 
 and I suppose that of her child." 
 
 "Child! Oh, I never heard of that," said Villc- 
 neuve ; and Sefior Ronando blinked with unctuous 
 satisfaction. 
 
 < I thought not. I thought I could tell you some 
 thing of that story something you had never heard. 
 Well, the family is all gone now ; none is left to bear 
 the disgrace. But, ah ! how Madame Solle raved 
 over it ! My wife lived then ; she was her confidante 
 -she knew. And when they died, Felice and her 
 ranger s brat, Madame Solle had them interred on 
 the plantation, with never a white friend near, not 
 even a priest. But then the poor woman was half 
 mad herself, and no one judged her coldly. For if 
 the soul of Felice was lost for lack of the sacraments 
 -well, it was only a fault of her own. To think of 
 such a fine creature turning into a light love for a 
 voyagcur those animals who have a wife in each 
 Indian tribe they visit ! Was it not deplorable ? " 
 
 "Such things always are," assented Monsieur 
 Lamort. "And yet well, they have been, and 
 will be." 
 
 But he sighed as he spoke, and his face looked as 
 sad as his words. Delogne glancing at him thought 
 what a generous heart was his that had a sigh ami a 
 tone of compassion for the actors in that long-dead 
 tragedy. 
 
 Will you not be seated, monsieur?" he asked, 
 coming forward with a chair. " You have perhaps 
 
196 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 walked rapidly and grown tired, for you are paler 
 than when you went out." 
 
 Lamort wheeled about as though vexed at being 
 supposed feeble, but recovering himself, declined 
 the proffered courtesy with a gesture. 
 
 " Thanks, Chevalier ; I am a little tired, but that is 
 no excuse for me resting so early in the day. I only 
 returned because I heard Senor Ronando had come 
 this morning to make me a special business visit. 
 So, my dear senor, I have postponed my other work 
 for this part of the day and am at your service." 
 
 " Work, work ! " grunted Ronando, with grim lips. 
 " Has Orleans Island become such a place of turmoil 
 that all repose is driven from it by this eagerness to 
 work ? Monsieur Lamort, when we get gray in our 
 hair we have surely earned the right to sit in the 
 shade and leave the work to younger hands." 
 
 " Right enough," assented the other; u and yet a 
 slothful old age is a bad example for youth to pat 
 tern from, and some men love action better than 
 repose. I, perhaps, am one of them. And now that 
 I am here, tell me in what way I can serve you." 
 
 Senor Ronando blinked at him in indecision. He 
 did not fancy much this courteous newcomer who 
 parried his thrusts of speech and was so quietly con 
 fident of himself. 
 
 " Well, monsieur, I must tell you that I that, in 
 fact, Don Diego Zanalta was to have met me here. 
 He knows my business, and knows more of law 
 crooks than do I. Can not we await his arrival ? " 
 
 " Assuredly. Meanwhile we will have a glass of 
 wine in the court within. The air is more pleasing 
 
THE VOUDOU. 197 
 
 there, I fancy. Will you come with us, young gentle 
 men, or have you other plans of entertainment ?" 
 
 " I have those papers yet to arrange," said De- 
 lo^ne. " Our artist here is going to attempt a sketch 
 of Monsieur Villeneuve, and as the breakfast-room 
 has the best light they were about to ask for pos 
 session of it." 
 
 "At their service all my house," nodded La- 
 mort, and led Senor Ronando through the arched 
 door into the court where the palms grew, and 
 where blossoms hung heavy and fragrant against 
 the lattice-work of the verandas. 
 
 Delogne was left sorting the papers according to 
 the labels. Several of them, tied with black cord 
 and yellow and brittle with age, were to go in a case 
 by themselves; the rest were to go in the great 
 locked drawers of a mahogany cabinet standing 
 against the wall. 
 
 Having concluded the task, he looked in vain 
 for the key to the drawers; but it had been mis 
 laid. He looked on the cabinet, even in the port 
 folio on the couch, and felt in his pockets. 
 
 Then he remembered he had changed his coat 
 just before Constante had entered, and the key had 
 no doubt been left in the other garment. 
 
 He had but left the room when Raynel reentered. 
 
 "Where are those drawings, Maurice? Oh, here 
 they are, though you are not." And he bent over the 
 portfolio to select some certain bits of paper. 
 
 Suddenly the couch on which the drawings lay 
 moved. He had not touched it; he knew he had 
 not touched it, yet it had certainly moved, and 
 toward him. 
 
198 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 He passed his hand over his hair as though to 
 level the curls suddenly grown bristling, and his 
 eyes grew wondrous large as he let fall the drawings 
 and stepped backward, for not only the couch, but a 
 bear s hide, seemed possessed by something infernal 
 and moved on the floor. 
 
 And then, carelessly uncoiling, Venda arose before 
 him, and stooped to pick up the scattered drawings 
 never speaking. She looked at him over her 
 shoulder, and he thought she was laughing at him. 
 Really she was not, but his earnest dread of her 
 made everything she did significant and of much 
 meaning to him. When she stood straight before 
 him and offered him the bits of paper, he seized 
 them and commenced a detour for the door, not 
 desiring to even turn his back on her. 
 
 But on reaching the threshold his eyes wandered 
 an instant from her white-framed face of bronze to 
 that spot where she had lain flat on the floor be 
 neath the skin of the black bear. He would not 
 have been much surprised to see numberless little 
 black imps of darkness creep forth in her wake, 
 all with shiny, strange eyes and white hair, and 
 form around the couch where he had been seated 
 and expressed adverse criticism on that voudou. He 
 had never before thought himself a coward, but a 
 most troublesome trembling seized his knees, and 
 the chill of horror wavered over him as he remem 
 bered his words ; and he hastened back to his 
 waiting model, with the self-query as to whether it 
 would be possible to frustrate by either charms or 
 prayers the potency of voudou spells. 
 
THE VOUDOU. 199 
 
 But Venda gave little heed to his presence. She 
 sat again on the rug near the couch, where she mut 
 tered, rocking from side to side, and nodding her 
 head as though some feeling it seemed anger 
 was too strong in her for utter silence. 
 
 If Constante could have seen her thus ! Then 
 another step sounded on the tiled floor, and she 
 turned with eager eyes to the door. 
 
 " Master, my master ! " she said, in a tone of ven 
 eration so profound as to resemble that of a pagan 
 who bows to an idol. And as he entered she moved 
 to him with silent haste. 
 
 "You, Venda?" he observed, with that gracious 
 manner he always had for his bond-slaves. He was 
 to Venda as to the others, though he watched her 
 with more interest than the other blacks she .sug 
 gested so much more ; and then she was ever so 
 strangely near when he needed her. 
 
 "Yes, master," she answered, bending before him 
 and holding her hands tight-clasped, as one who 
 would put restraint upon himself. u Is Venda 
 needed ?" 
 
 "Some one is, and you are ever nearest to my 
 hand," he replied. " We want coffee there in the 
 court. You made it pleasant to the taste yesterday ; 
 bring us more like that. I looked in here for Chev 
 alier Delogne. Send him to me if he is within, and 
 then bring the coffee." 
 
 "Yes, master. Master 
 
 She stopped and looked at him with a gaze so 
 concentrated, so searching, that he unconsciously 
 stepped back from her. 
 
200 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Speak, Venda ! What have you to say to me ? " 
 " What I say to you ? Oam-me ! The words, they 
 here," and she pointed to her throat. " They don t 
 come clear, maybe ; but master good Master 
 Lamort, you called just you called right but you 
 drink coffee with that" and she pointed with 
 growing rage toward Senor Ronando " you drink 
 friends with him ? I look in your eyes, but no see. 
 Master, Venda see some things clear ; she see pain 
 long ago long ago when that man judge, when 
 that man help put chains on where they no have 
 right. She hear lady scream all the night like he 
 laugh, and tell of scream for the man they put in 
 chains. Master, he comes to ask favor of you much 
 favor. Hate is in his heart, but he asks favor. 
 When he says the words, when he waits you to speak, 
 oh, master, think in your heart of the man who 
 laughed at the cries of the lily-white lady. Master, 
 he has ever been as a tiger in a jungle ; every fawn 
 drinking at the brook was food for him ; every 
 fruit ripening in the sun he put out his hand to. So 
 he put out his hand to the sweet Ma m selle Felice. 
 So he wrongs her in his words because she did walk 
 ever away from him as one walks from a snake if it 
 comes close with its poison. So it is with the father, 
 so it is with the son. Oh, master ! you smile kind 
 on him, and Venda Venda afraid. But when he 
 ask favor of you favor for his son there at the 
 judge place then then do not forget the lily 
 Lady Felice, and the judges who said, Let him 
 suffer. Oh, master 
 
 " Cease ! " commanded her master, and his voice 
 
THE VOUDOU. 201 
 
 was low and strained. His face, pale before, was 
 colorless under trie fierceness and pleading of her 
 words. He stood quite still looking at her, when all 
 at once his eyes closed ; he staggered slightly, reach 
 ing out his hand mechanically as though for sup 
 port. 
 
 But he did not fall, only leaned on her quickly 
 proffered shoulder, and passed his hand over his 
 eyes a hand cold and damp, as she found when it 
 touched her own. Then with an effort he drew him 
 self erect with a determined air and walked unaided 
 to the couch. 
 
 " Some hate of yours has made you blindly mad, 
 I fear, Venda," he said, reprovingly, " and I am not 
 well enough for agitating discussions this morning. 
 So if in the future you have a cause to plead, pray 
 do so with less of violence, and remember, no more 
 words such as you spoke just now ; they are useless. 
 I have decided what I shall do, and words from 
 others will have no weight. You make good coffee, 
 Venda, but when I want your advice in other things 
 I will ask for it. Now go, my good girl ; make the 
 coffee, but I warn you if you should think of putting 
 in poison for Senor Ronando that I am to drink 
 it too." 
 
 He spoke lightly, but did not look at her. His 
 head was bent on his hand in an attitude of weari 
 ness ; but he could not help seeing that the strange 
 vengeful creature knelt for one instant beside him 
 as at an altar, and then passed out as she was 
 bidden. Over her lips was pressed one of her hands. 
 He felt strangely the sense of her devotion to 
 
202 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 him, but did not know it was the hand his own 
 fingers had touched when he reached out to her for 
 support. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 
 
 IN the garden of the Ursulines there walked in 
 the sweet breath of the early day two women. One, 
 a sad-eyed, beautiful woman, whose expression was 
 one of peaceful repose, spoke earnestly to the other, 
 who was Denise. 
 
 " But, my child, I am not supreme here ; it is to 
 our mother superior you must go for direction in 
 this. And if the man but only look at you " 
 
 " Ah, Sister Andrea, his words have been spoken 
 often words such as are spoken by courtiers, I 
 think, but I fear them I fear them ! All the more 
 since that night when the blacks did seize me. I 
 dare not accuse him lest I be wrong, yet I felt that 
 only he could have done it ; and when I met him last 
 evening I grew ill and weak at the look in his eyes. 
 People say he is a good Catholic, and he does give 
 to my poor, yet do I fear he is evil." 
 
 "Your heart tells you truly," said Sister Andrea, 
 thoughtfully. "Then why not leave the charity 
 work to others who would be in less danger? " 
 
 u But my poor people would miss me I would 
 miss them," answered the girl, quickly. "That is 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 203 
 
 why I fear to go to our mother ; she is so decided, 
 she would say, Well, since you are afraid, I will 
 give you a class to teach, and you need never go 
 without the gate. But I love to pass the gate; of 
 course I am glad to come back to it again, but some 
 times I fear it would not be so dear to me if I was 
 once bound to remain within it always. It is wicked 
 of me, perhaps, sister" and she bowed her head 
 humbly " but I do not think I could be happy 
 under bonds of any kind, not even of the convent. 
 I want to do the work of it always, but I want to 
 work free. That is self-pride, I know, and it is 
 strong in me." 
 
 " It is strong in all youth," agreed the older 
 woman. " The years wear it away, however, from 
 many hearts. It may prove so with you, so be not 
 vexed with your own self." 
 
 " Ah, sister, you are ever kind to my faults, ever 
 excusing me to myself." And Denise pressed fondly 
 the hand of the nun. " I never knew what a mother 
 was, but I used to long blindly for a mother s love 
 always, always I would dream of a face I thought 
 my mother s. But in the year of the great sick 
 ness here, when you came from the convent across 
 the water, and you looked in my eyes and said, * I 
 am glad you are the convent child, for I shall love 
 to have you near me --well, dear Sister Andrea, 
 I never longed so for a mother after that ; but at 
 times a great dread comes over me for fear that 
 you may leave us too at some distant call of distress, 
 and then then this island would seem to me deso 
 late as the winter-time of the north country." 
 
204 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 A faint smile, caressive as an embrace, touched 
 the beautiful lips of Sister Andrea. 
 
 " Fear no sorrow until it touches you, Denise," 
 she said, gently. " But we need never be far apart 
 in this world if we wish to be together. Have you 
 never known that in all my eight years of life here 
 my bonds to the order are so lax that I am allowed 
 to follow my own desires as to my place of abode ? 
 I wished it so at first that I might be free to offer 
 my help in sickness or battle any place my con 
 science and duty led me. So you see, my child, my 
 bonds are scarcely stronger than your own. I go 
 where my duty calls me." 
 
 " Ah, sister ! and I never knew ! Do you know 
 I am happy at what you tell me and also aston 
 ished? You nurse the sick, you are devoted to good, 
 but you never go without the gates ; I always thought 
 you had taken vows to never look beyond these 
 walls." 
 
 " No ; those vows were not for me. But this 
 morning we were to speak of you, not of myself. I 
 am concerned because of the persecution of this 
 Senor Zanalta. I would we had the advice of some 
 one out in the world, some one who could not be 
 awed by his position." 
 
 " I know of such a one of two, but it would ill 
 become a maid to seek them ; at least our mother did 
 speak chidingly once because he walked home with 
 me in the dark, or rather because he called to see 
 me the day after." 
 
 "Ah! he?" And the eyes of Sister Andrea 
 smiled at the shy confession. " You commenced to 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 205 
 
 tell me of two, and end by speaking of only him. 
 Have they names ? " 
 
 " Monsieur Victor Lamort is the other one," ex 
 plained the girl, with an appealing upward glance. 
 
 " The other one and who is the one ? " 
 
 " Ah, sister, it amuses you to confuse me, and in 
 truth it is not hard to do it; but I spoke of the 
 gentleman, a chevalier of France, who came to my 
 rescue that night, he and his friend the name is 
 Delogne." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; and they are at once knights of 
 chivalry to maidenhood. You need not blush, child ; 
 only it is well to remember, Denise, that a foundling 
 of the convent gate and a chevalier of France are 
 widely set apart by the rules of the world he lives 
 in do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, sister "- and the young face was not so rosy 
 as she bowed her head " I hear, and will remember. 
 It was so that the good mother admonished me after 
 she had spoken with him, but her words hurt more 
 than yours, dear Sister Andrea." 
 
 " Well, well ; our mother superior has many things 
 to think of where we have only one, Denise, and we 
 must save her care when we can. Now why not 
 confess to Monsieur Lamort that you did suspect your 
 assailant that night on his grounds? You say he 
 is a powerful man, and has even asked how he could 
 serve you." 
 
 " Yes, it is true," assented Denise. " But, sister, 
 I heard words but yesterday that make me feel 
 strangely about him. I admire him so much ; but 
 
206 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 the world is so wicked that no one even he can not 
 escape suspicion/ 
 
 "How so? Tell me what has occurred. Your 
 words of that man have ever been words of rever 
 ence." 
 
 "Yes, and even now but listen: It was down 
 where the fever sickness is so busy ; I was there. 
 Two men of the boats talked of monsieur. I could 
 hear their words : one said he was very kind with 
 his gold ; another said it was only a trick by which 
 to win the love of the poor and gain votes and influ 
 ence with the people against the time when it 
 would please him to reach for position in this land. 
 One said, Have you noted that he has ever a most 
 fatherly smile for our convent child ? and another 
 said, * Aye ; he knows there are scores among the 
 poor who would take her word as their law, so he 
 would win even her. 
 
 " Well," said Sister Andrea, as the other halted, 
 "is that all? They were perhaps simply making 
 talk, as idle men will, to help the time to pass." 
 
 " I know so I thought; but even as I left there 
 I met monsieur. He was kind ; he asked after the 
 sick, and then then he spoke of their affection 
 for me, of my influence for good over them, and of 
 certain ways in which they needed to be influenced; 
 of the rights of the poor whites and the freed blacks, 
 who were each subject to many indignities escaped 
 by those possessing the saving-power of gold or of 
 caste. He talked wisely, no doubt, but I was think 
 ing more of the words of the other men than of 
 his ; and sorry was I to think that maybe they spoke 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 207 
 
 truly, and that every smile he has given me was not 
 for Denise, but for the sake of some law of which 
 she knows nothing." 
 
 Her face was flushed, and her lips were trem 
 bling. Sister Andrea was astonished to see tears in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " What, Denise ! You care so much ? I will come 
 to believe indeed that this wise Monsieur Lamort is 
 a wizard who charms people. Lend not your 
 thoughts to suspicion of those you love, child. Of 
 all emotions of the heart it is the one most miserable. 
 And what if this good gentleman should show you 
 how to serve those who need help ? It is not as if 
 the cause was an unworthy one." 
 
 "No, sister but " 
 
 " But you are very much of a woman after all, 
 Denise," said Sister Andrea. " You have grown so 
 worldly during one springtime that you fancy even 
 this gray-haired diplomat should forget his cares 
 when you are in his vision. Fie ! child ; I did not 
 fancy you so vain." 
 
 " It pleases you to tease me, and I can not set 
 myself right," declared the girl, " because I can not 
 tell what it is I feel when he looks at me. He 
 kissed my hand that night at his house see! 
 just here ; and I press it over my cheek every night 
 ere I sleep. Nay, do not reprove," as Sister Andrea 
 was about to speak. " I can tell you as I can no 
 other ; but it is only that he looks in that grand 
 house as though his heart was lonely and sad. He 
 looks at me, and I want to put out my hands and 
 comfort him." 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 "And this of a grande monsieur who lives like a 
 prince, they say ! Truly it is a strange impulse. 
 Your hands have until now gone out only to the 
 poor and sick. Do not be won from them to the 
 palaces, child. But it seems to me this gentleman is 
 most worthy; the oppressed have many blessings 
 for him. And since you prefer not to go to the 
 priest 
 
 "He drinks wine and laughs late with Don 
 Zanalta," answered Denise, shaking her head. 
 
 " Well, then speak to this gentleman whose gray 
 hair and kind words have won your sympathy. 
 Tell him I a nun here advised you to go to 
 him, as you are fatherless, motherless, and need 
 advice beyond my knowledge. He knows the 
 town and its dangers. We will rest on his judg 
 ment, Denise, for a woman shut out from the 
 world as I am may not advise you wisely. My 
 heart makes me fearful. I would gather you close 
 to me, close these gates, and never let the eyes of 
 men rest on you; but that might not be either 
 happiness or great good to you, dear. No ; we will 
 speak to the stranger." 
 
 Peculiarly intimate were the relations of those 
 two, considering the fact that each wore the convent 
 garb the robes that are recognized barriers against 
 worldly personal loves ; but Denise had explained 
 her own attraction to the beautiful sad-eyed nun, 
 and Sister Andrea well, from the day when she 
 had stepped ashore there, sent from a convent in 
 old Madrid in the time of a great sickness eight 
 years before, from that day when Denise had met 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 209 
 
 her just inside the gate and offered her a lily flower, 
 her heart had gone out to the lovely little one who 
 had never known any home but the convent walls, 
 and their liking had grown with the years until 
 their love was that of sisters in truth. 
 
 And so it was at the suggestion of Sister Andrea 
 that Denise took the path to the gardens of Mon 
 sieur Lamort. 
 
 She went alone, as a boy might have done, for the 
 foundling of the convent had never a duenna to 
 guard her ; the dress of a novice had ever been 
 respected but that one night. 
 
 And was it so strange that all unexpected she 
 should have come face to face with Chevalier De- 
 logne at the arbor of the very first gate? For is 
 there not ever a certain guardian spirit of life over 
 all ? and it draws so surely youth to meetings with 
 fair youth ; and Delogne arose as one who has 
 dreamed of some sweet thing come true, and looked 
 in her face with eyes that said " At last ! " 
 
 " I trust that I did not startle you, mademoiselle ? " 
 he asked, as the slow pink crept up to her cheek. 
 " I sit often in this arbor with a volume for company, 
 though my eyes and thoughts wander far beyond 
 the parchment at times." 
 
 " Yes," remarked the girl, glancing about. "You 
 can see the water across there on which the ships 
 go out to the sea, and across to your own land ; it is 
 natural you should watch it with fondness." 
 
 " True, mademoiselle ; but I can see two ways, and 
 the other is across to the sacred place where your 
 days are lived. I can often discern forms passing 
 
 14 
 
210 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 to and fro, and test my wits to discover if one should 
 be you." 
 
 " There are many besides myself there, monsieur, 
 and all of more importance," she returned, walking 
 slowly beside him to the house. 
 
 " I dare not contradict you lest you show me dis 
 favor, Mademoiselle Denise, but will content myself 
 with protesting that as I do not know the other 
 excellent ladies and have been privileged to know 
 you a little of course it is your face I strive to 
 discover and not that of a stranger." 
 
 The girl could make no reply to that she felt con 
 fused ; she knew the good mother superior would 
 not approve, and yet she could not be rude, and the 
 conscience-troubling thought was the certainty that 
 she did not wish to be. It was entrancing thus to 
 walk under the whispering leaves keeping pace with 
 the step of another who spoke with all-caressing 
 deference to her. Her heart beat warmly, and her 
 hand crept to her rosary. 
 
 He looked at her. They were nearing the door ; a 
 few moments and there would be no more words 
 alone. 
 
 " Will you never speak to me when we meet by 
 chance ? " he asked, gently ; and she did not raise her 
 head. 
 
 " I have spoken to you this morning." 
 
 " Yes, this once, a few words ; but, ah, mademoi 
 selle, do you never give a kind glance to any but 
 the invalids or the very aged ? A man in a strange 
 land can starve for kind words as surely as the 
 poor people whom you befriend grow hungry for 
 the taste of meats." 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 211 
 
 " But you are not alone you have friends they 
 are attached to you." 
 
 " Friends oh, yes ; Monsieur Lamort and my dear 
 Raynel. But it is ever the sympathy just beyond 
 us for which we yearn." 
 
 " I suppose you mean gentlemen when you say 
 we/ " she answered, with a delightfully prim little 
 manner obtained from correcting at times the 
 younger pupils of the classes. " But ingratitude is 
 most lamentable, and surely the friendship of Mon 
 sieur Lamort is a thing to be satisfied with." 
 
 " Ungrateful ! You think I make a low estimate 
 of his kindness because I long for something more 
 sweet ? Ah, mademoiselle, if you would but be a 
 little gracious, you would find me grateful, I promise 
 you." 
 
 "I am not a fine lady, monsieur, from whom 
 courtiers beg grace," she said, as they reached the 
 doorway, and her face grew more decided as she 
 looked up once at him. " I am only Denise of the 
 convent, and know little of the world s ways ; but 
 this I believe, that he who is not satisfied with that 
 which he has would not be content with that which 
 he thinks he would like to have." 
 
 And then she passed before him and entered the 
 hall leading to the court where the palms drooped 
 their feathery fans ; and under their shifting shad 
 ows sat the man she had come to speak of, Don 
 Zanalta, and beside him, with a cigarette between 
 his fingers, stood Monsieur Lamort. 
 
 She saw it all in an instant, before she was 
 observed herself, and stepped back in the shadows 
 
212 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 out of range of their eyes. Was it for this she had 
 chosen Monsieur Lamort instead of the convivial 
 Father Joseph ? To her eyes there must be close 
 friendship when Monsieur Lamort smiled thus down 
 on the dark head of Zanalta ; and her resolve was 
 taken quickly she would not speak of the errand 
 for which she had come. 
 
 She could not hear the words of the man standing 
 there, or guess that he was refusing a boon the other 
 had striven for. 
 
 " No, my dear Zanalta," he was saying, with that 
 decided voice but easy smile, " I can not move in 
 this matter if I would, and I have not yet met with 
 any evidence to convince me that I should." 
 
 " But I assure you, though the letter of the law 
 will oblige the Alcaldes to give judgment against 
 Ronando, their sympathies will be with him." 
 
 " All the better for him ; then he will have no 
 difficulty in posing as a martyr." 
 
 " But truly, do you care not at all that the preju 
 dice of the nobles will be turned against you ? " 
 
 "Will that also result?" asked Lamort, with a 
 curious smile. " Do they then dislike justice so 
 earnestly ? Ah, well, perhaps that creole slave, the 
 mother of Ronando s child, may have a good word 
 for me at the day of judgment ; it may even weigh 
 against those of the voluptuous nobles." 
 
 11 But if she be content- 
 
 " Content to be beaten like a beast by him in his 
 drunken fits ! Pray speak no more of it, my dear 
 sir. The things I learned of that plantation are not 
 pleasant to dwell on. And, by the way, can you tell 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 213 
 
 me from whom Colonel Dtirande made purchase of 
 that adjoining plantation the one that lies between 
 your own and Ronando s?" 
 
 "I forget the name something like Semour. I 
 have it on papers at my house, for we had trouble 
 once with this same Durande over the boundary- 
 lines, and I was always convinced that they still 
 hold many acres which by right belong to my plan 
 tation. I would like your judgment on the question 
 some day." 
 
 " It is at your service. Let me know anytime I 
 can befriend you." 
 
 " Have I not let you know this morning? " retorted 
 Zanalta. "And you closed your heart against my 
 plea, just as you did to old Seilor Ronando yester 
 day. He is angry and astounded that he has been 
 refused consideration." 
 
 The two men passed out by another door to the 
 garden, and did not perceive the girl, who stood 
 uncertain which way to turn ; uncertain what to say 
 to Delogne, to whom she had motioned for silence, 
 and who stood silently watching her, and showing 
 plainly that he was puzzled. 
 
 And then from among the palms Venda walked, 
 a brighter-faced Venda than usual, and Denise, with 
 a little gasp of relief, pointed to her. 
 
 " You will pardon me, monsieur, but it is this 
 woman for whom I have words. I did not want to 
 interrupt the gentlemen, but Venda will under 
 stand." 
 
 He noticed her embarrassment, but bowed and 
 placed a seat for her, then taking himself into the 
 
214 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 court. And the slave-woman stood before her with 
 questioning eyes. 
 
 " Venda, you will think it strange that I have 
 nothing to say to you, only to trust you a little. I 
 would not go forward to speak to your new master 
 because because your former master was there 
 too, and I could not explain to Monsieur Delogne; 
 but you, Venda, maybe you know without me 
 explaining." 
 
 " Venda knows ; you have wise thoughts, little 
 mistress Venda see that too. And your tongue has 
 been still about the night out there by the garden ; 
 but be not afraid Venda watch, Venda make sign 
 to you if danger comes, sure ! You trust? " 
 
 "Yes." And the girl felt a dread lifted off her 
 
 heart at the words of the woman. "You know what 
 
 - who I fear I came to tell monsieur, but I will 
 
 not now perhaps I can another day; until then I 
 
 trust you." 
 
 " And is there any other thing Venda may do for 
 you?" 
 
 The girl arose, smiling, and shook her head. 
 
 " Then please, little mistress, you do something 
 for slave Venda little bit. To-day she like to ask 
 how you be convent child ? " 
 
 " Would you care to hear ? " asked Denise, and sat 
 again to talk. "Well, the story is not a long one, 
 Venda. In the time of good Mother Agnace I was 
 left at the convent gate ; that was all.." 
 
 "You little then?" 
 
 " Very little, only a baby." 
 
 " No one know where you come from ? " 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 215 
 
 " No one, Venda. Some thought Mother Agnace 
 knew, but she died before I could talk ; she told the 
 sisters, however, that I was to take vows when I 
 grew old enough when I was eighteen ; that is 
 over a year away yet. So you see I have not a long 
 story to tell you. Why do you care to know ? " 
 
 " Um ! Nothing much." But the woman s eyes 
 searched her face with so keen a scrutiny that the 
 girl drew back, startled by the intensity of it ; and 
 then she saw Lamort and Zanalta, who stood in the 
 door as though they had stopped to look at the 
 picture made by the two figures. 
 
 Zanalta had his hat in his hand about to depart, 
 and an unpleasant smile touched his lips as he looked 
 at them, then with a bow he passed out ; but once in 
 the garden he smote one hand against another and 
 smiled at some thought that was pleasant. 
 
 " Admirable ! most admirable ! " he said to him 
 self, and nodded assent. " A foundling and utterly 
 unknown to any one now living. I never suspected 
 that. It will go hard with me if I do not find a 
 claimant for her ere long, the saintly slip ; she has 
 caused me more than one unquiet moment, though. 
 I have feared to move again in the matter so soon ; 
 but I ll have her ! Would not Rochelle come handy 
 in this enterprise ? I fancy so. Once get her aboard 
 his vessel by heavens, it shall be done ! Ah, 
 Diego, you have not accomplished much for 
 Ronando by this visit to-day, but you have found a 
 trail to a soft nest for yourself." 
 
 Monsieur Lamort greeted Denise with his usual 
 
216 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 courtesy, but his tones had a little more than his 
 usual tenderness as he looked at her. 
 
 " I heard a portion of your discourse as we entered 
 here," he said, as he sat beside her, "and you will 
 pardon in an old man that which you have par 
 doned his slave a little curiosity. And are you 
 then utterly without family ? " 
 
 " I was a foundling of the convent, of whom no 
 one seems to know anything but that I was left at 
 the gate one night," replied the girl; while Venda, 
 Withdrawn a space, watched the two the young face 
 with its youthful grace, the old one with the gray 
 hair, the sad eyes, and the scar on the cheek that 
 lent a warrior-like character to his face. 
 
 "It is desolate enough for age to be alone, but the 
 loneliness of youth can also have its sad coloring ; 
 and is not even your nationality known ? " 
 
 " Nothing not even my name ; but Sister Andrea 
 always insists that I come of French people. Mother 
 Agnace must also have thought it when she called 
 me Denise ; no other name was given me, for in 
 the convent life no other is needed." 
 
 " But in the days to come, when perhaps wedding- 
 bells are sounded for you, you must let me know, 
 and I shall see that you do not go undowered. You 
 have earned that, mademoiselle, by your labor among 
 those who can not afford to repay you." 
 
 " You are gracious, Monsieur Lamort. But you 
 do not know, then, that this dress of a novice has its 
 own significance ? There will be no marriage-bells 
 for me. I am to be a nun when I grow older. I 
 owe my life to the church." 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 217 
 
 "And to no one else a thought not even to 
 yourself? " 
 
 As she raised her eyes to answer him she noted 
 that Delogne stood in the doorway and was observ 
 ing her. The color swept over her throat and brow 
 like a lily that the red sun tints. Lamort followed 
 her eyes, and smiled. 
 
 " To no one, monsieur. I am nameless ; but only 
 from the church will a name be given me. I must 
 be away on my errands now. I was speaking to 
 your slave-woman, but did not think to stay so long." 
 
 She had arisen, when Lamort asked, kindly, " Is 
 there anything in which I can serve you to-day ? If 
 so, you must let me know." 
 
 Her original errand occurred to her, but she had 
 lost the courage to mention it. She only bowed and 
 moved to the door. 
 
 " If a day comes when I need service I will 
 remember your offer, and will remind you of it. 
 Meanwhile I thank you ; I pray blessings for you." 
 
 " Blessings," repeated the older man, turning to 
 Delogne after she had gone. "Is it not blessing 
 enough for one day to receive such sweet words, or 
 so gracious a glance from those clear eyes?" 
 
 Receiving no reply, he glanced around to find the 
 young man staring dejectedly from the lattice. 
 
 " You are not very sympathetic, Chevalier," he 
 remarked, drily. 
 
 "What can you expect, monsieur that I will 
 rejoice at the fact that the Lady Denise dispenses 
 sweet glances, but will direct never one to me ? I 
 am not yet saint enough for that." 
 
218 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " What ! " And the other turned and looked at 
 him with more attention. " Something in your tone 
 tells me you are serious." 
 
 "Serious!" And Delogne faced him, with knit 
 brows and determined eyes. " So serious that, 
 though she has spoken to me but twice in her life, I 
 would give all I wish to possess if I could hope to 
 win her from those vows to the jealous church." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Maurice," said the older man, kindly. 
 " Be content that your rival is nothing more human. 
 But would not your aunt, the marquise, think this 
 sudden fancy a thing of folly?" 
 
 " Without doubt yes. So would many a wise 
 person, monsieur, for she will not look at me ; and 
 even if she did I am too poor to offer her the home 
 such a lady should have for she is a lady by 
 birth, no matter how shrouded in mystery her 
 parentage remains." 
 
 " Yes, she appears to be a lady ; but really, Mau 
 rice, one can not always judge one s descent from 
 the face. Have you not seen delicate lady mothers 
 have clowns for sons, and fairest flowers of maid 
 ens grow up daintily amid brothers and sisters who 
 were like uncouth cattle ? I have. I have also seen 
 a graceful, blue-eyed, brown-haired girl whose 
 mother was a brown woman from Cuba. Those 
 things have disturbed somewhat my old idea that 
 blood always tells. It does not always, so far as 
 outward appearance goes, though I am more than 
 willing to believe that mademoiselle is all you would 
 have her be." 
 
 " Do you know, monsieur, for the first time I am 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 219 
 
 anxious to hasten the investigation concerning the 
 properties De Bayarde bought long since for the mar- 
 quise ? She told me it was to be mine if it was yet 
 obtainable, It may prove of value who knows? 
 If I only had an estate of my own at my back I 
 would dare move. Her friends at the convent might 
 not be so persuasive then. I could promise more 
 earnestly that her life should have every care. Ah ! 
 what a simple you must think me to thus plan and 
 dream when I am not even encouraged by a glance 
 from her. Mon Dicn ! if I was but a prince with a 
 diadem to offer her ! " 
 
 "Yes," agreed Lamort, sadly, cynically, " there 
 comes a time in every man s life when he longs for 
 a kingdom to bestow on some woman." 
 
 "Ah, monsieur, it is a jest to you ; but if you have 
 ever known love " 
 
 The older man raised his hand. 
 
 " Say no more, Maurice. I would help you if I 
 could see the way. But the memory of love in my 
 life is more like to give me cruel than kind thoughts ; 
 and yet that girl 
 
 He leaned his head on his hands and seemed lost 
 in reverie, from which Delogne made no attempt 
 to arouse him, though he glanced at him curiously 
 from time to time. He wondered what had made 
 him feel bitter at the memory of love that had been 
 some woman who was false, perhaps. 
 
 Then Lamort raised his head and brushed his 
 hand over his brow as one who strives to drive away 
 thoughts unpleasant. 
 
 " Bring those papers from the cabinet to me, 
 
220 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Maurice those in the private drawer. The 
 Ronando case is settled ; those slaves will be confis 
 cated. The heavy fine and the disgrace well, 
 they will count; and then the rolls of gold for a 
 gambling debt that must be paid at once ah ! they 
 all count. Young Ronando s wife goes back to 
 Spain in anger at the disclosures, and takes all her 
 gold from their coffers. That will hurt the old man 
 most the loss of gold or of dominion always hurt 
 him. That is one move. Now for Durande." 
 
 Delogne returned with the papers, and the older 
 man clutched them as if they contained much that 
 was precious. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; we will see about that estate for you, 
 Maurice," he said, and smiled, with a peculiar look 
 at the young man. " The time is ripe, I think. Let 
 me see the letter from Hector de Bayarde to the 
 marquise that is it um! Now hand tome that 
 roll with the cord of crimson about it. Yes, my 
 memory is good for these things, though I have not 
 unrolled them for three years." And he smoothed 
 out the yellow, crackling parchment. "Now try 
 your eyes on that. What do you see ? " 
 
 Delogne glanced at it, then at the letter to th* 
 marquise, and half rose from his chair in sudden 
 surprise. 
 
 " Why ! " - and he stared at Lamort as though 
 scarcely realizing that he had seen aright " on my 
 life, it seems the same script written by the same 
 hand." 
 
 " I thought you would discover the resemblance," 
 remarked the older man, quietly. " But you do not 
 examine the meaning of the text." 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 221 
 
 Delogne bent over it, with a low cry of surprise. 
 
 "It is the paper mentioned in that letter," he 
 exclaimed, excitedly. " * The transfer of the estate 
 called Royal Grant from the Count Hector of the 
 house of De Bayarde of Anjou to Madame la Mar 
 quise de Lescure of Rouen, France. So it is labeled, 
 and so ah, mon Dieu! monsieur, I feel as though a 
 great wave had passed over me, leaving me breath 
 less. My astonishment leaves me no words. Your 
 rinding of this is like witchcraft." 
 
 " I beg you will not league me with the witches," 
 smiled Lamort. " I have had enough of maledic 
 tions lately from our ruling class here without add 
 ing the accusation of witchcraft." 
 
 " But pray tell me how you have found this by 
 what rare chance it has come to you." 
 
 " There is little of chance in this world, Maurice," 
 returned the other, wearily ; " and the only thing in 
 this affair that seems strange to me is that you 
 should have arrived at just the time you did in New 
 Orleans." 
 
 " Perhaps ; but that is by no means the strangest 
 to me. This paper, supposed to be lost in the sea 
 years ago, written by a man dead these thirty years 
 well, I confess it is wonderful that you should have 
 found it." 
 
 "Not so wonderful when you learn that it has 
 never been for one moment lost. That it never 
 was sent to the marquise, because of delays that 
 were many. The papers Hector de Bayarde promised 
 to send were burned when the Indians fired a house 
 where he was staying over in the Apalachee country. 
 
222 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 This one was executed long after, and only two 
 months before the insurrection of 68 the time of 
 his own death and the confiscation of all his own 
 property. It was sealed up with other papers of 
 import papers containing many secrets of that 
 troublous autumn, many names of persons inter 
 ested in the uprising, whose property would also 
 have been grasped by the Spanish governor if those 
 signatures had met his eyes. Oh, yes, that title deed 
 and transfer was in important company all those 
 years, though it is so yellow and unlovely." 
 
 " But you?" persisted Delogne. " I am yet amazed 
 that all this knowledge should have come to you ; 
 that you could have gained so quickly all the past 
 records of De Bayarde." 
 
 " The knowledge at least came to me in all 
 honesty," declared Lamort ; " and if a title is given 
 you to the estate it will be a clear one*" 
 
 " Do not think for one instant that I suspect that," 
 said Delogne, quickly. " It is my amazement that 
 speaks, not my doubts ; and if it is not a secret, I 
 confess I am curious to hear more." 
 
 " Oh, no ; it is not a secret I could not tell to you," 
 answered the other after a moment s thought. " For 
 you of course would not send it abroad. I would 
 trust you for that." 
 
 " You may." 
 
 " Of course," resumed Lamort, " I do not promise 
 to tell absolutely all, as there may be those yet on 
 earth for whom it would result sadly, and against 
 whom I have no ill-will. But you may have gathered 
 from many things report, the contents of my 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 223 
 
 house, or my own words that I have been a traveler 
 who loved the strange corners of the world. Well, 
 it is true. For three years I have been quiet here 
 on this Island of Orleans I, who have never been 
 so long in one place for more years than the number 
 of fingers on both hands. Some day pouf ! a 
 fair wind will blow in the way of my mood, and I 
 will doubtless stand again on the deck of a vessel, 
 and head her, as of old, where my fancy leads. 
 But to the story : Once off the far coast of Mexico 
 inclination led me inland over the ranges where 
 the yellow metal is found, through lands where 
 the fine opals glow, and where the precious stones 
 of amber, and blue, and green gleam on many an 
 Indian breast ; where I have seen a native guide 
 kick over a stone by the path and find under it a 
 topaz. In that land are labor exiles who are as slaves. 
 Some have gone from these shores, some from the 
 West Indies ; some are really slaves stolen off the 
 slave coasts and held there under the iron rule of 
 the mines, working under the musketry of the guards, 
 and risking worse dangers than quick death if they 
 venture an escape through the country of the na 
 tives. Well, I reached a valley in one of those 
 ranges a valley where the gold was washed from 
 the soil at the will of mercenaries, who filled their 
 own coffers, and gave also a goodly portion to the 
 state, for that was the law. The study of that 
 country pleased me. I learned also somewhat of the 
 traces gold and gems leave on the soil where they 
 hide. You will find people here who will tell you I 
 have made fortunes by such findings, though they 
 
224 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 but guess at that. But during my observations I 
 of course met men who toiled, as well as the gold 
 they washed in the streams. From one of those 
 exiles I learned the story of wealth hidden, possibly, 
 in these papers, and of the papers hidden in the 
 marked nook of the waters near this island." 
 
 " De Bayarde ! " exclaimed Delogne, with eager 
 excitement ; " the man the people here have told 
 us of, Basil de Bayarde, the exile." 
 
 Lamort nodded, and then smiled carelessly, as he 
 said : 
 
 " I am wondering why you did not say as the 
 others say Bayarde the assassin." 
 
 " I can not say. I only know it does not seem 
 natural for me to think of him like that ; perhaps 
 because the story of the fair lady and their love, and 
 all, has made the legend more romantic than horrible 
 to me, though of course the crime and expiation has 
 horror enough too." 
 
 " Well, your avoidance of the word assassin or 
 murderer recalled to my mind the very earnest pro 
 tests the man made of his own guiltlessness of crime 
 in that matter." 
 
 " Heavens ! how horrible if he should be guiltless 
 -if that most terrible sentence should be unjust! " 
 exclaimed the younger man ; " but of course it is not 
 likely the judges would of course sift well the evi 
 dence ere committing a life to such torture." 
 
 " One of the judges was Senor Ronando," remarked 
 Lamort, grimly. " The accused man was thought 
 of the low caste a young ranger of the north who 
 thought little of title, and in fact had no proof at 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 
 
 the time that he came of other than peasant blood. 
 Men of Ronando s stamp could forgive a murderer, 
 but not a peasant who had dared reach for and 
 clasp a princess from their midst ; a maid who 
 had disdained his judges, yet bent to his wooing. 
 Think you such a man would judge with unbiased 
 mind?" 
 
 "And you know all this have known it while it 
 has been discussed among us, yet made no com 
 ment?" said Delogne, looking at him wonderingly. 
 But Lamort shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Ah ! no ; they have told many things I had not 
 heard before for you see it was his side of the 
 story I had known, not theirs, and I find a wide 
 difference ; and to tell the truth, I trust his the 
 most. But I commenced to tell you of this," and he 
 touched the parchment. " It seems Hector feared 
 death might come to him through the insurrection, 
 and he made his arrangements accordingly, so that 
 his boy should in after years carry on the work he 
 would leave undone. He was an earnest lover 
 of his native France though to tell the truth he 
 had been treated ill enough by some of its people, 
 as you may have heard. He had papers fiery with 
 political plots, documents of power in able hands, 
 but useless of course in the hands of a boy of ten 
 years. So when the final blow struck him, he bade 
 the boy take him to a nook already marked as fit- 
 ing; by his directions the papers, sealed in glass, 
 were buried under the river-sands. The boy was 
 made to promise never to unearth them until his 
 twenty-fourth year, the father knowing that in the 
 
 15 
 
226 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 hands of a boy they would be things of vast danger ; 
 but if at that age he cared to use the knowledge 
 contained in them, and so rise to position, then 
 they were to be used according to written instruc 
 tions wrapped with them. But here one puzzling 
 thing occurs. This paper in our hands was not meant 
 to be buried with the others ; in a letter it is men 
 tioned, also the surveyed outline of the estate is 
 told of, but it is plainly stated that the documents 
 themselves are sent to his friend in France, the 
 Marquise de Lescure, and bids his son do service 
 for her if she ever call on him. Now that sur 
 veyed plan of the land is not here, neither is the 
 letter of instructions to the marquise, so the supposi 
 tion to me is that in his haste he has sealed and sent 
 to the marquise those two papers, and overlooked 
 the legal documents, which he had enrolled among 
 the ones for his son. I also gather from his letter 
 to the son that he had requested, and hoped, that 
 the marquise would have a care of the boy, and had 
 written her to that effect." 
 
 " She never received the letter, monsieur I am 
 assured of that," declared Delogne ; " and since it 
 was lost, what a lucky chance it is that this docu 
 ment was forgotten in that time of his haste and 
 distraction." 
 
 " As I told you before, there is little that chances, 
 my dear Chevalier." 
 
 " And you tell me that De Bayarde at his trial did 
 not know of his family or their standing. How was 
 that so when he had those papers ? " 
 
 "He was by no means twenty-four years old at 
 
ECHOES FROM THE PAST. 227 
 
 the time he was sentenced; and with the careless 
 nature of a boy he never took thought that these 
 musty political records could help him in his 
 trouble, or that they could bear influence aside 
 from plots of government. The lad had seen more 
 than he cared to of revolts and their distresses, and 
 had no disposition to take part in the schemes which 
 his father held sacred. He had much rather make 
 himself a pipe from a reed, and blow through it the 
 songs of each bird or wild thing haunting the river. 
 And so it fell that these things were left until this 
 time to be looked into ; for Bayarde, hopeless of 
 returning in his own person, gave the clue to the 
 documents into another s keeping." 
 " And that other was you ? " 
 
 " I have them in my possession," agreed the other, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" said Delogne, sadly ; " he little 
 thought what influence his confidence would have 
 on lives he knew not of." 
 
 " I don t know about that. He thought of a great 
 many things, away off there in that living hell. 
 He grew to hope without ever having read those 
 papers, mind you he grew to hope steadily that 
 their contents might have power to bring sorrow 
 to some of the men who condemned him; and, 
 strangely enough, it has proven so. This land to 
 which these papers give your aunt legal right is 
 now held by Durande, one of the judges. It will 
 leave him less wealthy, and it will also take many 
 acres from Don Zanalta ; for it is no small garden, 
 Maurice." 
 
228 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " I can scarcely realize it yet," said the young 
 man, getting up and walking about ; " a large estate, 
 of which at least a considerable portion will come to 
 me or will there be doubt as to our right being 
 allowed at this date ? " 
 
 " The property was confiscated, together with 
 other, as that of Hector de Bayarde, revolutionist ; 
 hence it belonged to the state, or the crown ; after 
 ward it came to Durande for services rendered the 
 governor. But at the time it was confiscated it no 
 longer belonged to De Bayarde, as these documents 
 prove ; so restitution must be made by the crown. 
 Though before any word is said or any move made 
 in the matter I would like much to have a copy of 
 that original plat of the land as marked by the ear 
 liest surveyors, for from it the landmarks would be 
 more easily distinguished ; and in my belief there 
 is but one in the hands of a private citizen, a brown 
 parchment done in red ink, and that citizen is Don 
 Zanalta." 
 
 " Ah ! And what part did the Don play in the 
 tragedy of Bayarde ? " 
 
 " He was a most important person the prose 
 cutor," returned the other, quietly. " He and Du 
 rande have had legal trouble - about the boundary- 
 lines of their estates they adjoin each other. 
 That is how I came to learn of the surveyed plan of 
 the old plantations which is in Zanalta s possession ; 
 though you understand that nothing is to be men 
 tioned concerning it to any one at present." 
 
 " Not at any time except by your wish," promised 
 Delogne, earnestly ; "but I have been most anxious 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 229 
 
 to learn more of that man down there in the gold- 
 fields. Can you tell me any more of him, or have 
 you grown tired of my questioning ? " 
 
 " Not at all. I will tell you all I have been able 
 to learn, and am only sorry that the all is so brief 
 and cheerless. After I found those papers and had 
 settled here in Orleans for awhile, I sent a letter to 
 the commander of the mines out there asking about 
 the man whom these papers had been meant to 
 benefit. I have the answer somewhere among 
 these papers here. It .said that the convict Bayarde 
 had been killed five years ago, by a fall into a 
 chasm, where he was dashed to death. His body 
 was never recovered, but his number was wiped 
 from the convict-list, and he was declared legally 
 dead. Not a bright finale, Chevalier, but the whole 
 story is gloomy. It makes me sad when I think of 
 it and especially of the chance there was that he 
 might have been innocent. Come, let us walk out 
 where the wind blows ; those papers stifle one with 
 the mold of the past." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE WOOING OF NINON. 
 
 IN the house of Zanalta there were curious doings 
 and varying moods in these days, despite the long 
 hours of labor and discussion over the portrait of 
 the gracious senora. It was not yet completed, and 
 
230 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 the lady sat day after day on the throne-like chair 
 and smiled complacently on the handsome artist, 
 seeing clearly enough through his ruse to prolong 
 the sittings, and receiving the raillery of Madame 
 Villette with great good humor. 
 
 And Don Zanalta had said to him, with sly mean 
 ing, " I acknowledge myself in your debt, Monsieur 
 Raynel, for more than the price of a portrait, 
 namely, so many days of fair weather in our house 
 hold. The temper of my sister-in-law has ever been 
 variable, but she broods over us all like a dove of 
 peace since she has commenced to admire herself on 
 your canvas. Pray tell us, do you mingle a charm 
 with your pigments ? " 
 
 " To be sure," spoke Madame Villette, with a 
 smile of saucy wisdom ; " what charm more potent 
 than the latest fashion from murderous Paris? 
 Alas for captives snared by Monsieur Cupid through 
 such arts ! " 
 
 " Take care, Ninon," warned Don Zanalta, " else 
 some day a gallant may ride this way, and leave 
 your friends lamenting because you too are num 
 bered among the captives." 
 
 "I?" And madame s pretty brows were arched, 
 and her jeweled hands flung upward in disdain. 
 " Pray give me credit for more of wisdom. There 
 will be time enough to think of that when my curls 
 turn to gray, and my heart is tired of wandering." 
 
 "Madame" and Raynel s eyes met hers as he 
 bowed " there is a proverb telling us it is best to 
 love to-day to-morrow never comes." 
 
 " Ah ! Senora Zanalta, will be interested to hear 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 231 
 
 that " and she met his glance with one of laughing 
 defiance "and it is a pretty playmate for an empty 
 h our this love ! There are many proverbs about 
 it, and among others one that says, Love makes 
 time pass, but time makes love pass. 
 
 " Truly," remarked Diego Zanalta, " you each seem 
 wise on the subject, as though you had perused vol 
 umes concerning it ; but, Ninon, a lady exclaiming 
 against love is like a child who sings in the dark 
 because it is afraid." 
 
 " Oh ! "and she gazed after his retreating form 
 with large combative eyes " afraid ! I ? Well, 
 then, Juan Diego Zanalta, I could tell you it is not 
 Ninon Villette who is afraid not the least little 
 bit." 
 
 And she seated herself decorously on the quaint 
 carving of the window-shelf, scarce seeming to see 
 the man who had quoted of love to her, and who 
 looked on her with caressing eyes from the respect 
 ful distance at which he stood. 
 
 " And it pleases you to laugh, then, at the power 
 before which so many worship, madame ? " he asked. 
 " Strong indeed must be your faith in self if never 
 a fear comes to you lest Monsieur Cupid should 
 some day visit you in search of revenge." 
 
 " Indeed no. Love only calls at doors where some 
 voice sings him a welcome ; and I oh, well, mon 
 sieur, I have had other things to think of, serious 
 things. Have you not heard of the lost Santa Bar 
 bara, a vessel swallowed in the storm of last month, 
 when it carried to the ocean-bed so much of the 
 dowry I might have brought to a husband ? Well, 
 
232 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 monsieur, I speak to you with directness, knowing 
 you to be a friend of the family, and you will under 
 stand that a dowerless widow can not expect the 
 visits you are so gallant as to mention." 
 
 Ah, Ninon ! it is a time-worn card to play that 
 for compassion; and yet, ancient as it is, adoration 
 ever blinds one s eyes to the trap it hides. And 
 Constante listened with a growing radiance over 
 spreading his face. Her wealth swept away ! Then 
 that barrier was broken down. He felt so much 
 closer to her when she said a portion of her riches 
 was hers no longer. 
 
 And so it was that Madame Villette, glancing up, 
 met his smiling eyes, his eager, pleased face, and 
 shrugged her shoulders, with a reproachful expres 
 sion. 
 
 " Indeed, monsieur, though you say nothing, 
 your looks belie all sympathy for my ill fortune." 
 
 " 111 fortune ! Ah, madame, do not treat me coldly 
 for that. I I how am I to make you under 
 stand what I feel at the news that you are no longer 
 the very wealthy Ninon Villette ? I can not have 
 regret for the loss of that which helped to wall me 
 from you the golden weight that would have ever 
 beaten down my courage." 
 
 " Monsieur ! " 
 
 " Yes, it is so. I adore you adore you ! You 
 may dismiss me forever for saying so well, it is 
 said. I am poor in moneys in everything but my 
 heart s love, and that is doubtless nothing in your 
 eyes; but ah, Madame Ninon! I have been 
 hiding my thoughts like a thief who was afraid ; now 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 233 
 
 at least I can feel more like an honest man since I 
 have spoken." 
 
 Madame Villette had retreated under the rapid 
 passionate shower of words. It is true she retreated 
 but a step, and the lucky beggar was not forced to 
 let go the hand he had audaciously seized. 
 
 But even the step gave one little touch of unwill 
 ingness, and Constante, who dare scarce look in her 
 face, groaned in spirit, though whispering, " I love 
 you I adore you." 
 
 " But, monsieur pray rise ! Some one may come, 
 perhaps ; and, ah ! if it should be my aunt, it would 
 be terrible." 
 
 Even his passion could not blind him to the fact 
 that an arrival of the Zanalta at that precise moment 
 would be a thing to dread, and he arose from his 
 place at her feet, standing beside her, eager - 
 adoring. 
 
 Madame Villette, glancing at him from the corner 
 of her eye, decided that he had never before looked 
 so handsome. 
 
 "Will you not even speak to me?" he entreated. 
 "Consider, madame, to love you was my fate not 
 my fault. To remain near you and keep silent was 
 no longer a possible thing. But speak to me, I pray 
 you." 
 
 " You have been very foolish, monsieur," she said 
 at last. " You have been so for a long time." 
 
 "I know I know! ever since that first evening 
 when my eyes rested on you when my arms held 
 you for a moment amid the palms. Ah, madame, 
 if for a sweet instant a soul should stand within the 
 
234 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 gate of paradise, and loiter ever after within sight 
 of its beauties, could you blame him f 01 the longings 
 born there?" 
 
 11 You are adding sacrilege to folly, for the long 
 ings for heaven should not be spoken of as the 
 wishes of earth." 
 
 " Madame, if you have ever loved, you would 
 know that our true loves of earth are heaven-born. 
 It is the one gleam of heaven allowed to us here. 
 The words of love can never be sacrilege against 
 aught that is holy. You shake your head you do 
 not believe ! Oh, if love s hand but touched you, 
 then you could not be so severe." 
 
 "Severe? I think not, monsieur. I but said you 
 showed folly." 
 
 " In daring to tell you my heart was at your feet? 
 Yes, it was madness to dream you might care, if 
 ever so little ; but the madness was sweet ; it is my 
 own ; it will never leave me. Even your dismissal 
 can not rob me of it, for I have found more sweet 
 ness in its dreams than wisdom will ever bring 
 to me. So, madame, it is all said all the folly. 
 But have you no word for me ere I go? " 
 
 * Go ! you are going where ? 
 
 " Of that I have not thought, and I dare not hope 
 it is of concern to you." 
 
 " Oh, but it is. The portrait of Senora Zanalta is 
 not yet finished; my own is not yet commenced." 
 
 He looked at her angrily, and his teeth closed 
 tightly as if to strangle an oath. 
 
 " You are gracious to care where I am, madame," 
 he said, bitterly ; "but it is best the pictures should 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 235 
 
 remain ever as they are than that you should be 
 further annoyed by a love you can not return, and I 
 can make no promises to refrain from showing you 
 the folly of my feelings toward you." 
 
 He picked up his hat, looked at her a moment, 
 and turned away with a bow. The lovely drooping 
 face was flushed like a rose ; she dared not raise her 
 eyes to look at him. He was going, the madman ! - 
 he had said so. He had reached the door. 
 
 Then he heard her voice so meek a voice it 
 was almost a whisper, and it said : 
 
 "I I have not asked for the promises, monsieur." 
 
 " Madame Ninon ! " 
 
 " I would not know what to do with them, espe 
 cially when you threaten to break them. But I am 
 very positive Senora Zanalta will grieve if you take 
 your departure without finishing her picture." 
 
 " Ninon angel ! Do you mean - 
 
 But she shook her head, and held out one hand 
 laughingly to ward him off. 
 
 " No, no ! not one word more for that sort of 
 questioning. If you care to tell me the answer you 
 would like to hear from me, then indeed it will be 
 time enough for me to confess, otherwise - 
 
 But needless to say the alternative was not dis 
 cussed. There were passionate words of devotion, 
 fond chidings, and some coquettings close there by 
 the lattice; and the love-making of the young 
 Frenchman had not quite the stately character 
 belonging to the devoted courtiers of Old Spain. 
 Hence the reason that Madame Ninon, blushing and 
 confused, looked sister to some wind-kissed rose, 
 
236 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 and did frown and smile many times, and knit her 
 pretty brows, murmuring- against love s folly. 
 
 "Ah but think, Ninon, sweet Ninon, how 
 long I have starved for a kiss of your hand a 
 gracious whisper. It has not been easy for me to 
 wait until now." 
 
 Then do I heartily wish you had made your 
 declaration at once on your meeting me if you think 
 you would have been more rational than after these 
 weeks of lingering wishes." 
 
 " But did you not accuse me of folly when I spoke 
 but now? You would have dismissed me forever 
 had I spoken at first." 
 
 And then Ninon, Madame Villette, laughed and 
 blushed at her own words as she whispered : 
 
 " Your folly was that you feared to speak ; it was 
 that I meant." 
 
 And who so close to heaven as Constante ? 
 
 " But no ; my brother will not be pleased," con 
 fessed the lady when later they had escaped to an 
 arbor where a tete-a-tete could be assured. " He has 
 thought it amusing to connect your name with that 
 of Donna Zanalta " (Constante shuddered), "but he 
 will not be ready to laugh when he learns you have 
 found favor with me before his favorites." 
 
 " Ah ! if I had but the wealth of some of the men 
 he would welcome ! " 
 
 " What, sir ! When their wealth can not win me ? 
 Do you prize so lightly victories won that you have 
 heart to think of others yet beyond you ? " And she 
 affected chagrin so prettily that he was forced to 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 237 
 
 sue for pardon, and protest until she was graciously 
 pleased to.be pleased once more. 
 
 " It is only that I might give the jewel won a 
 casket fit for its resting-place," he assured her, and 
 sighed happily ; "but I fear me I should have to 
 ask you to wait until my hair was gray ere I could 
 accomplish that." 
 
 " Then I pray you will ask nothing so impossible 
 of me," she retorted. " Wait until you are old ? do 
 not hope it. If I cared to marry a man who is old I 
 might chance to do so without waiting so long, as 
 there are several in the colony ; so be warned." 
 
 Monsieur Raynel looked at her with smiling scru 
 tiny ; and so quickly does love reflect thought that 
 Madame Ninon laughed and nodded, with upraised 
 finger. 
 
 "I can tell what you are thinking yes, I am 
 quite sure. Now confess. You are thinking of 
 those who are forsaken because they are dowerless, 
 and of whom we spoke but now. Yes, but many 
 good people may yet think, as you yourself did 
 think me, still a lady of wealth, and so present 
 themselves." 
 
 "A lady of wealth, and are you not?" demanded 
 her lover. " Each word spoken by you is a golden 
 blossom of thought, each glance of your eyes a 
 jewel for which a man would sell himself into 
 slavery. What wealth so precious as that of your 
 own charms?" 
 
 " But what think you Diego will say when we 
 speak of our stock of charms with which to com 
 mence life together?" she laughed, gaily. " But 
 
238 
 
 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 never mind; Diego need not know yet, even the 
 senora fieed not know." And she shot one wicked 
 glance at him. " Indeed, Diego has of late days 
 been most fitful, and the time does not seem a good 
 one to tell him our thoughts." 
 
 " Must we wait, then, the humor of Don Zanalta ? " 
 asked Constante, with some impatience. " I heartily 
 wish that he himself had a lady-love we could 
 count more surely on his sympathy ; but our gra 
 cious Don singles out no lady for his devotion." 
 
 " I do not know," said Ninon, doubtfully. " He 
 seems to have a rose-bower ever over his fancies 
 one never guesses who his smiles fall on ; but this 
 I do know, he was severe with black Gourfi yester 
 day, and I heard Gourfi complain because a fight 
 for < master s demoiselle had left him with a lame 
 shoulder, and I have wondered much who * master s 
 demoiselle can be. It is a lady of course, else 
 Gourfi would not have said demoiselle. But it 
 would go ill with his temper should he think me 
 curious. And well am I pleased that you will now 
 be near for me to confide in, for of late I have had 
 many curious fancies about Diego, and never a safe 
 ear in which to whisper them." 
 
 " By our troth, then, you are lending to me some 
 of your fancies, "confessed Constante, at the thought 
 of "master s demoiselle " and the wounded shoulder. 
 " I pledge you I will be a willing listener." 
 
 ;< Very well ; but you must not make oath of our 
 troth until we are trothed." And she shook her head 
 warningly. 
 
 "But what more is there to be said between us?" 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 239 
 
 demanded her lover, in dismay. " Have I not pro 
 tested I adore you have you not been gracious 
 enough to accept my love have I 
 
 "Ah, there! there!" she laughed. "And pray, 
 monsieur, am I to plight troth to each gentleman 
 who is pleased to tell me he loves me? Believe 
 me, should I have done so, you would have a long 
 list of fiances to pass ere reaching my hand." 
 
 " Never mind ; I would fight my way through if 
 you threw but a smile of encouragement to me. 
 Tell me what I am to accomplish ere you will con 
 sider me your fiance, and let me hear also those 
 puzzling fancies about the seiior your brother." 
 
 " We will commence first with the fancies," she 
 decided, " and afterward, if you are trusty well, we 
 will see. But this is serious this of Diego. I 
 thought of telling it to Father Joseph, but have 
 not yet found courage. Constante, some evil one 
 has woven a spell about Diego. He is possessed." 
 
 " Possessed ! and of what ? " 
 
 " By evil spirits the evil spirit. It keeps him 
 awake in the nights. He talks to it I heard him. 
 He moans and groans for it to leave him to go 
 back to the grave. He muttered of masses he 
 would have said. He complained that it was the 
 woman, the accursed woman, who held the knife 
 not he. He had touched no one. Now that is 
 the way he did talk all alone in his chamber, and 
 when I, almost distracted, did call and ask after his 
 health he was impatient, and made reply ttiat he 
 had slept poorly and had some troublous dream. 
 Now what think you ? " 
 
240 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " That perhaps your brother may have been truth 
 ful, but forgot part of the truth," said Raynel, with 
 a sympathetic understanding of such possibilities. 
 " Did he say aught of the quality or quantity of 
 wine he had drank before retiring? " 
 
 " Oh, you think it was wine, then ? No, no indeed ! 
 I am sure not. It was an evening when he had no 
 company ; when he was engaged in looking over 
 accounts, and sorting old papers and early records 
 of life here. All his day had been quiet not one 
 thing to make him disturbed, and I am sure no 
 drinking of wine ; and then well, there have been 
 other times." 
 
 " Other dreams?" 
 
 " No ; words in the daylight. He talks alone. It 
 was never so before. I heard him in the garden, 
 when the roses hid me. He spoke again of the 
 accursed woman, and her eyes that haunted him. 
 He was telling himself that something he had seen 
 in the night was a shadow, nothing more, and then 
 he told himself it was the fault of the woman whose 
 eyes he hated ; but the something he had seen he 
 did not name, only said, It was but a shadow under 
 the trees a fancy of the darkness. Now what am 
 I to think is it the priest I should speak to, or the 
 physician ? " 
 
 " Let us not be hasty in this matter ; it is worth 
 consideration. I will do anything you wish if I 
 may help you. But ghosts under the trees, and the 
 fear of a woman s eyes ! Well, one can scarce tell 
 what key will unlock the riddle. If we could but 
 guess who the woman the accursed one might 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 241 
 
 be scarcely the demoiselle of whom Gourfi 
 spoke?" 
 
 For in his mind was the fair, strong, bewildering 
 face of Denise as she looked that evening in the 
 house of Monsieur Lamort. That could never be 
 the face Zanalta shrank from ; those eyes, clear as 
 the eyes of a child, could never be the eyes he called 
 accursed. There were evidently two women who 
 held the interest of Don Diego ; and Raynel, in his 
 usual impulsive manner, had leaped to the conclusion 
 that he knew the one, and as quickly decided to check 
 mate any little game his future brother-in-law might 
 have in that direction. Yet there was another part 
 of Ninon s confidences less easy to fathom. 
 
 That other woman the woman with the eyes! 
 
 " I do not know," acknowledged the lady, regret 
 fully ; " indeed I fear it is no woman at all, only 
 a sick fancy of the brain, for he grows stranger than 
 of old. He stays away some nights, and money 
 is lost at games with some stranger. I heard of that 
 through the Ronandos, who have had much trouble 
 with such games. He only amuses himself with 
 curious rascals, so he says, but I would rather 
 he played games with good Father Joseph, who loves 
 well the pastime and a glass of good wine. Such 
 friends I am sure would not send him to dreams of 
 men s ghosts, or the awful eyes of women for it 
 must be only fancy." 
 
 They had arisen and walked the length of the 
 arbor, their tones low and secretive. The bees 
 humming over the countless blossoms broke on the 
 silence almost as sharply as their words, and they 
 
 16 
 
242 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 would have deemed it impossible that any ear could 
 have heard their confidences. 
 
 But as they retraced their steps and came to 
 a path crossing their own, Ninon gave a low cry of 
 surprise as their former slave, Venda, walked into 
 the arbor from that side-path of the roses, and 
 halted respectfully that she might not cross before 
 them. 
 
 Her eyes were nearer smiling than either had 
 ever seen them. She walked as if from the house. 
 
 " Venda! how comes it you are in my garden?" 
 asked Madame Villette, sharply. " Who has offered 
 you entrance through the gate that is mine alone? 
 You know this is never the walk for any but my 
 friends." 
 
 " I know, mistress. I will kneel at your feet for 
 pardon. Venda did wrong, btit she was in haste. 
 You were ever kind, so please forgive. You forgive " 
 she looked with wise meaning at the two "and 
 Venda make you a charm to bind the heart you lean 
 toward. Venda know, and Venda wish you good." 
 
 "Oh enough!" agreed Madame Ninon, with 
 blushes and some confusion under the calm, certain 
 gaze of the slave-woman. " Go your way ; but in 
 future use the gate of the other garden when you 
 have an errand, and let Venda keep that which she 
 knows to herself." 
 
 " It shall be as you say, little madame. To you 
 and master I wish a paradise." 
 
 She made one of those profound oriental bows, 
 touching her lips and her breast with her hand, and 
 then passed out of sight beyond the roses. 
 
THE WOOING OF NINON. 243 
 
 " Venda is never Venda without some such strange 
 barbaric action," remarked Madame Ninon. " I do 
 believe she makes practice of such ceremony the 
 better to impress the other slaves with fear, and even 
 the whites with belief in her charms. It makes her 
 more graceful than the others, but beyond that it 
 means nothing." 
 
 "Perhaps not," agreed Raynel, dubiously ; "but 
 with all her soft words I would just as soon be 
 prayed into paradise by other lips than by the 
 dancer of that heathenish performance we witnessed 
 in the house of Monsieur Lamort. I have shuddered 
 in the night when I thought of her face her eyes 
 and the hand held out to a dancer invisible. I 
 have never seen any human thing that impressed 
 me as that strange-eyed slave." 
 
 Ninon laughed. Venda had always been most 
 docile with her, and it amused her to hear of the 
 alarm she inspired in others, even in Diego Zanalta 
 after years under the same roof. 
 
 She stopped abruptly in her laugh and walk, 
 looking up into her lover s face with a sudden 
 inspiration. 
 
 " Now if Diego had said in his sleep that it was a 
 black woman whose eyes he hated I should think it 
 was Venda." 
 
 Venda!" 
 
 " Just so ; his avoidance of her was so marked. 
 He never once took from her hand a cup or a bit of 
 fruit. Often have I wondered that he did not sell a 
 slave he could not endure near him. And now 
 but I am silly to have such thoughts; they came 
 
244 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 all in a moment, when you too spoke of her with 
 distrust. It is not likely, is it, that Don Diego 
 Zanalta, who has had black people by the dozens, 
 should be haunted by one slave-woman whom he 
 bought and sold?" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS AND SEftORA ZANALTA 
 SPEAKS HER MIND. 
 
 WHILE the lovers talked in the arbor and laid 
 plans to discover the cause of Diego s ill rest, 
 Diego himself was closeted with Father Joseph in 
 the house of the priest, and listened eagerly to a 
 story he had asked for. 
 
 " On a Christmas night, you say, and in the year 
 17 ? Now tell me, did you learn nothing but the 
 date no family name, no trinkets or did you 
 ask?" 
 
 " I asked. To every question the answer was no. 
 Mother Agnace was thought to know something, but 
 she is no longer living. Her directions were, how 
 ever, that Denise was meant for the convent." 
 
 " Strange that so noble a woman would lend her 
 aid to a thing that if known would be resented as 
 an outrage by every gentleman s child who is 
 instructed in the convent," said Zanalta, with a fine 
 burst of indignation. " I beg you will not think me 
 demented, Father you look at me as if you feared 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 245 
 
 so. I can not confide in you this morning. I must 
 examine more deeply into this question before I 
 dare put it in words ; but if it proves, as I have rea 
 son to believe, a great wrong has been waiting all 
 these years for our righting, ever since that Christ 
 mas night it was the night, not the day ? " 
 
 " It was the night a night well remembered, 
 because two infants were left at the gate after the 
 darkness fell ; the other an octoroon child that did 
 not live the night through. But tell me, my son, all 
 this inquiry means no harm to the girl Denise?" 
 
 " No harm ; it may mean a change in her life, but 
 I do not think it will prove unpleasant ; however, I 
 can tell you no more than that. I am much in your 
 debt for your investigation of this matter. Let me 
 know if I can ever serve you so well." 
 
 But scarce waiting to hear the reply of the priest, 
 he hastened out of the shadows of the dwelling and 
 walked jubilant in the sunshine. His walking-stick 
 was flourished jauntily as he moved. He wanted to 
 laugh aloud in his content. If dreams ever troubled 
 him, they were forgotten then. He seemed a dif 
 ferent man. A beggar asked alms shrinkingly as 
 he passed, and was astonished at the handful of coin 
 flung to him. Diego was in a rare mood. 
 
 " That Christmas-night," he repeated to himself, 
 " a day of all days the best ; not one can come in evi 
 dence against my plan, for Venda at that time was 
 with Felice St. Malo on the plantation of Madame 
 Solle. Madame is dead, Felice is dead who is there 
 to come in evidence that a child was not born of 
 Venda there on that plantation, a child whose father 
 
246 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 was white and a child that was given no likeness to 
 her mother ? Such things have been ; and if she con 
 fesses it if ? she mnst*\ will have little trouble 
 to establish my claim to the child, when the mother 
 belonged to me at the time of the birth. Popular 
 opinion will be with me ; the convent dare not com 
 bat strongly, for every white citizen will be enraged 
 at the chance that his child has been educated arm 
 in arm with a ncgrcsse! Ah, it all plays into my 
 hands so smoothly ; the plan is admirable. I pre 
 pare my paper for the recovery of my slave. I get 
 Venda s mark to it. I receive the signature of an 
 alcalde. I claim my pretty saint and spend a honey 
 moon somewhere among the islands of the gulf 
 shore. I may have been unlucky at play of late 
 to Rochelle is that blame but fortune is somewhat 
 at my call despite the cards." 
 
 He was walking along the road by the river where 
 boats of different sorts were drawn up with their 
 noses against the shore, when, glancing out over the 
 writhing water, his eyes fell on a boat cutting its 
 way through and sending the spray flying to either 
 side. Few of the blacks propelled a boat like that ; 
 they ever prefer a song to the dip of the oars, and 
 the air one that moves slowly. 
 
 Zanalta halted to watch it, and as the rower s face 
 was seen he walked down to the water s edge and 
 beckoned to the man. 
 
 " I was sure of your face though afar off, Monsieur 
 Robert," he said, as the man saluted, "and glad am 
 I it is you instead of your men whom I chance on, 
 for I would like much to transact a matter of busi- 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 247 
 
 ness with the Sea Gull, and it pleases me to deal 
 with principals." 
 
 "At your service, senor," said the man, quietly. 
 " I trust it may be possible to meet your desires." 
 
 " An easy matter enough, if you can give me the 
 vessel for a month, manned as it is," returned Zan- 
 alta, and smiled at the surprise in the sailor s eyes. 
 "You are astonished at that? Surely, your com 
 mander can spare it to me so long. I well know he 
 does not live in it steadily of late, for he is too often 
 on shore, and I have reason to think spends time 
 inland among the Natchez but it matters not at all 
 to me where he may roam, and I will not interfere 
 with his traffic, whatever it is ; all I ask is room for 
 myself and a companion." 
 
 The man Robert shook his head, with a deprecat 
 ing smile. 
 
 " It would distress me to refuse you, senor, but I 
 fear it will not be possible. You know Monsieur 
 Rochelle is a gentleman of many moods, and as 
 restless as a sea gull itself. He has never yet parted 
 with his vessel to another lest a moment should come 
 when he would need it, and to let it go to a stranger 
 besides yourself I can question him for you, but 
 I fear not." 
 
 Zanalta hesitated a moment, and then : 
 
 " Perhaps when you tell him my companion will 
 be a a lady he will have more sympathy for my 
 desires." 
 
 "Oh, a lady! Well" and the man smiled and 
 looked more encouraging " it may be. When will 
 you want to go aboard?" 
 
248 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " I will want all in readiness for three nights in 
 succession, not counting to-night, and a small boat 
 waiting at some given point to take us aboard at 
 any minute we decide to go." 
 
 " I see." And the sailor nodded his comprehension. 
 The love of an intrigue was dear to the heart of a 
 seaman in the days when there was romance to touch 
 it, and he was convinced it was an elopement 
 Sefior Zanalta was planning well, it would be a 
 diversion. " I can let you know after the stars shine 
 to-night, not earlier," he decided. 
 " And where ? " 
 
 " At your own house, or at a cafe where you have 
 met Monsieur Rochelle; it is called Manette s." 
 
 " Let it be there. I will go for the answer instead 
 of having it come to me. At what hour? " 
 " Nine by the clock." 
 
 " So let it be. A good-morning to you, Monsieur 
 Robert ; and remember I am counting much on the 
 assistance of your vessel indeed I would like much 
 to see Rochelle himself in the matter if it be at all 
 convenient, but he is such a will-o -the-wisp." 
 
 " He shall hear of your desire, at all events," 
 promised the other, " and if he is within easy dis 
 tance he is likely to speak with you in person of the 
 matter." 
 
 Then they parted, and Don Zanalta went on his 
 way, well pleased at the meeting, for he observed 
 that Robert was inclined to favor him, and that was 
 well to begin with. And what plan so good as using 
 the Sea Gull for his flight ? In a month she would be 
 tractable enough she the " saintly slip," as he called 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 249 
 
 her. Then it would be safe to land ; she would be 
 resigned. He would settle on some abode for her 
 away from the town house ; he was inclined to have 
 her delicately lodged unless she prove unreasonable ; 
 and a month alone with him at sea, and only the 
 faces. of lawless seamen to meet her own ! Then the 
 certainty borne in upon her that she was, for all her 
 fine learning, only a slave the daughter of an 
 African voudou ah, the entire plan was admirable ! 
 He forgot the years of weariness that vexed him at 
 times. He was young again with the youth of the 
 early summer. Through the medium of this new 
 emotion and prospective triumph, he felt that For 
 tune was turning with him into the path of his 
 desires, and he walked confidently to meet her. 
 
 Other canoes were moving on the waters that 
 morning canoes with feather-trimmed occupants, 
 who gathered in groups and watched curiously the 
 faces of the white senors, who wondered at the 
 simultaneous coming of the Natchez, and noted also 
 that they were dressed in their richest, as if for 
 some stately ceremony ; but what affair of moment 
 could bring them thus uninvited to the dwelling- 
 place of the whites ? 
 
 Don Zanalta noted them, though too much 
 absorbed in himself to question ; but as he passed 
 the house of Lamort he observed a group of the 
 somber-faced red men there too. They spoke to 
 Delogne at the entrance. He was directing them 
 to the Cabildo, but their interpreter, a French half- 
 breed woman, was stupid. 
 
 "This no Cabildo?" 
 
250 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " No, no ; this house of Lamort alcalde com* 
 prehend?" 
 
 " Lamort!" Two or three of the men repeated 
 the name and nodded to each other. 
 
 "Where Lamort?" they asked; and Delogne 
 looked despair. They were like stolid, persistent 
 children. 
 
 " Who sent you here?" he demanded, in return. 
 The woman consulted with the others, and then 
 spoke : 
 
 "The man, Rochelle and his Natchez man, 
 Nicholas. He say come down and hear in the 
 Cabildo the Natchez who are slaves ask to be free. 
 The great king over the water made them free 
 many years ago, yet they are held. Now over the 
 water, it is said, there is much freedom. The 
 people sing songs and dance dances over the bodies 
 of the dead nobles. There are nobles here in this 
 land ; they hold the people of the Natchez captive. 
 The time has come to ask for the thing the great 
 king sent to them." 
 
 Zanalta heard the name Rochelle, and retraced 
 his steps. 
 
 "Can I be of any assistance to you, Chevalier?" 
 he inquired, carelessly; and Delogne hesitated, 
 though apparently needing assistance. 
 
 " If you could persuade these red gentlemen that 
 no amount of waiting about the door will bring the 
 Cabildo here, then I do not doubt you would be 
 doing Monsieur Lamort a favor," he confessed. 
 "They appear to have a settled idea that it is here 
 justice is dealt." 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 251 
 
 " Did Monsieur Rochelle send you here ? " Zanalta 
 asked the woman ; and she questioned the others. 
 They shook their heads and muttered negatives. 
 
 "Cabildo," they repeated, and then "but red 
 men all say white Lamort." 
 
 "I see how it is," concluded Zanalta; "they are 
 like wild animals still these Indians animals 
 that have seen traps. Lamort has a fancy for inter 
 esting himself in these natives. They have learned 
 his amiable weakness, and come no doubt for his 
 sanction ere they will take the advice of any other. 
 They are just so doltish these savages. If you 
 will allow me to call one of Lamort s blacks." 
 
 " Certainly ; here, Nappo ! " 
 
 Nappo appeared, with curiosity and some alarm 
 visible in his big black eyes. Tales of massacres 
 had made the red man the terror of the African. 
 
 " This boy will walk with you the path to the 
 Cabildo," spoke Zanalta in a tone of authority to the 
 natives ; " do you comprehend ? You go there ; there 
 you will hear the things of the law. That is all. 
 Go!" 
 
 Nappo nodded to them, motioning the direction 
 in which they were to be guided. The half-breed 
 woman repeated the message, and the red men 
 glanced from one to the other ; then, with a signifi 
 cant grunt behind closed lips and a glance of utter 
 disdain at poor Nappo, they turned as with one 
 accord from the door and passed across the grounds 
 to a different street to the one pointed out for 
 them. The interpeter followed without a word at 
 their heels. 
 
252 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " You perceive," remarked Zanalta, with amuse 
 ment, " they know quite well where to go, but stub 
 bornly waited here that they might see Monsieur 
 Lamort, whether he wished it or not. They are 
 doubtless little kings in their own tribes, and 
 resented a black messenger. Is it so, then, that the 
 red slaves have thus suddenly prepared demands 
 for their freedom ? for if so, of course Monsieur 
 Lamort has acquaintance with the fact." 
 
 " Yes, senor. It is discussed in the Cabildo this 
 morning. The revolution of France is sending 
 echoes to every land ; this movement of the red men 
 is only one expression of it." 
 
 "And a useless one," commented the other. " The 
 planters will simply see that the law for their libera 
 tion be repealed a senseless law, made years ago in 
 a court across the water, and by people who had no 
 practical knowledge of this land s requirements. 
 Who could have advised the savages that the old law 
 was yet in existence ? " 
 
 " I know not," returned Delogne, briefly. " The 
 red men spoke of but two people, that Monsieur 
 Rochelle whom they name the night-hawk, be 
 cause he is never seen among them when the sun 
 shines, and then another who is evidently his officer, 
 but partly of the Natchez blood. Beyond that they 
 told me nothing." 
 
 "And Monsieur Lamort," persisted Zanalta, "is 
 he also at the Cabildo in their interest ? If so, they 
 surely have widely different advocates Monsieur 
 Lamort and a lawless ranger of the waters." 
 
 " Monsieur Lamort is not here at present. When 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 253 
 
 you see him he will without doubt give you any 
 required information on the matter, and as I have 
 duties I must bid you good-day." 
 
 " A most assuming fellow," murmured the Span 
 iard, looking after him with little love, "and evi 
 dently cultivating as close a mouth as his master. 
 Well, little care I for the doings of the island if I 
 but secure the vessel and the maid. Curious that 
 Rochelle and his men should also have a finger in 
 this pudding of Indian slavery one from which 
 there is never a plum to be plucked. Um ! it would 
 go hard with Durande if the savages should get 
 their demands there are many of them on his 
 plantation; though I need not waste pity on him, for 
 I have not yet forgotten the trouble he made me 
 once over the boundary-line. That reminds me to 
 convey the diagram of the old estate to Monsieur 
 Lamort. I will need his aid in claiming my slave, 
 and it is well to pave the way by offering a favor. 
 Strange that he cares so little about incurring the 
 hate of the ruling class here. Within a month he 
 has made enemies of the Ronandos and all their 
 connection. Now it will be Durande. Well, he has 
 been a power here for two years. It is well he is 
 digging a pitfall for his feet, else his sway might 
 have grown as wide as the land yes, would have, 
 had he been careful enough to conciliate the right 
 people ; and yet, a man may grow tired of statecraft 
 and the ambitions of it, for all of this spring-time 
 I have cared nothing who ruled. The eyes of Denise 
 have been more often in my memory than all the 
 machinery of the Cabildo ; but Victor Lamort pah ! 
 
254 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 he is too cold and correct of pulse to appreciate 
 aught but musty documents and archive laws. 
 Strange he is not so old." 
 
 He had reached his own grounds, though his feet 
 had found the way by instinct ; his thoughts were 
 elsewhere than on the path. 
 
 And on the threshold he met Senora Zanalta. 
 
 An excited, irate, and furious senora, whose bridal- 
 veil was twisted into a rope by her restless ringers, 
 and all the curls and brocades adjusted for the por 
 trait were sadly disturbed. 
 
 " Ah gr-r-r ! We are disgraced, our house is no 
 more, the name of Zanalta (thanks to the saints, I 
 was not born of their blood) will be shrouded in 
 shame ! Diego Zanalta, have you no feeling in your 
 breast ? Is it nothing to you that your half-sister 
 stoops to intrigue with an artisan hired by me to do 
 service a clever trickster whom she fancies cares 
 for herself instead of her moneys? Oh, it is fine ! 
 We are to be made the laughter of the town, and he 
 - he, the ingrate ! Are you dumb that you say noth 
 ing? Well, then, I will not be silent. I, Mercedes 
 Sofie Zanalta, to be thus tricked and schemed against 
 day by day. Not that I would so much as use his coat 
 for a carpet, or his head for a footstool. May the 
 saints deform him ! Not that I care who has him, 
 with his brushes and his smirks. Ah h! if he 
 had not run so fast ! " 
 
 And the beringed fingers of the lady opened and 
 closed with a combative, destructive movement sug 
 gesting scratches and loosened tresses. 
 
 Her brother-in-law dropped on a divan, with a 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 255 
 
 sigh of resignation. And it had been so lately he 
 praised her improved temper ! 
 
 " Well, my dear senora, continue your scoldings, if 
 they are not completed. When you have expressed 
 all your annoyance I will be pleased to hear the rea 
 son. Who has tricked or robbed you ? " 
 
 " Robbed me! Holy St. Francis! Did I want 
 him? Do I care who he prances around? I tell 
 you, Diego Zanalta, I have disdained courtiers in 
 Madrid whose shoes this lackey would not be 
 allowed to lace ! Think not that because I wed 
 with your brother it was for lack of more illustrious 
 offers. Do you heed me ? " 
 
 " I hear you, most certainly," he agreed, with 
 weariness. " I fully understand that our family 
 should feel honored by an alliance with your illus 
 trious self ; you can have no argument with me on 
 that score, though my brother was at times less 
 gallant than I, and even wished aloud that the ship 
 had gone to the bottom of the sea ere he set sail for 
 the port where he first met you ; but for such men 
 beauty was never intended, my honored senora. Now 
 by me you were always held at your true worth, 
 and if any cavalier has spurned your addresses, I 
 promise you he shall hear from me." 
 
 " Sacre ! are you all demented ? I care nothing 
 for the fellow, however much he may have fancied 
 so and she too the fools ! Not longer shall I 
 remain here, Diego Zanalta. Take heed, for I swear 
 it, when the next ship leaves for Spain I depart for 
 ever from these shores, Avhere the most illustrious 
 names must associate with the rabble to be in the 
 
256 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 fashion of the times. Let your Ninon wed her 
 dirty painter, as it pleases her. Oh, holy saints ! 
 that I should have found them, he at her feet, her 
 fingers dabbling in his curls, and never a blush on 
 her brazen cheek. But I assure you they ran finely 
 when they saw me a brave lover for Madame 
 Ninon Villette, one who flies before the eyes of a 
 lady insulted ! " 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me you surprised a love- 
 scene between my sister and this painter, Raynel ? " 
 demanded her kinsman, arousing himself to interest. 
 " Do you not think your fancy has been warped by 
 your fears? I have noted nothing of the kind." 
 
 " No, thanks to their duplicity ah! did I not 
 hear them laugh that they had cheated us so ? Even 
 my name was spoken by them, and well it was for 
 them both that they fled." 
 
 " Raynel ! " And Zanalta s brow had a deep 
 wrinkle of thought drawn across it. The senora 
 welcomed it as a sign of his anger, and poured out 
 various grievances in the matter, while the ethereal 
 bridal-veil steadily lost all semblance to anything 
 so poetical, and with each shred of it plucked by her 
 hands she repeated her unchangeable resolve to 
 betake herself from the shores of the sauvage 
 people, that her remaining days might be lived 
 among surroundings more to her taste. 
 
 But the ears of Zanalta were closed to her. He 
 was deliberating over this story she had brought 
 him. If it should all be true, if Ninon should even 
 want to marry the fellow ! And as he had in truth 
 not a vestige of power over her beyond what she 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 257 
 
 chose to allow him well, there were reasons why 
 he should not be displeased, and the chief reason 
 was that he thought Constante a fool. 
 
 " If Ninon had chosen a gallant of the town, who 
 knew every gold-piece left to her by Villette 
 some one with an investigating mind, like Victor 
 Lamort well, it might have proven awkward for 
 me. He would have induced her to a reckoning of 
 every copper bit, and then but this stranger, a 
 fool in finances these artists and poets and such 
 ever are ; and since she will wed where she likes 
 when the time comes, it is best to keep in her favor 
 and that of the man she smiles on. I may then be 
 able to manage them both if I should ever need 
 their offices. Others will say it is a mesalliance, no 
 doubt ; but I will know how to make it serve my 
 turn." 
 
 " What will you do with them ? " asked the senora 
 as he arose. " You can put her in retreat with the 
 nuns, can you not ? When one shames her family " 
 
 " Enough ! I am weary of the subject. Had you, 
 senora, chosen to smile on the gentleman whose 
 brushes enhanced your beauty for us, think you I 
 would have shut you in a convent ? Not at all. I 
 have too much sympathy for the dreams of love." 
 
 And leaving the senora dumb with astonishment 
 and chagrin, he repaired to his own apartment, but 
 not without being followed by light-footed Ninon, 
 who slipped from behind a friendly curtain where 
 she had been a witness to the entire scene. To say 
 that she was joyous over Diego s reception of the 
 damning proofs of her folly expressed feebly her 
 
 17 
 
258 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 sensations. She had never been over-fond of her 
 half-brother ; but now for once she entered his door 
 with a rush, and caught his shoulders with her little 
 hands as though to hug him for his acknowledged 
 sympathy. 
 
 " There, there ! " he protested. " Has she told the 
 truth, and does it make you act so like a child? " 
 
 But she was not to be chidden. She saw he was 
 not angry, and her laugh was care-free. 
 
 " It is the truth, but oh, how much we were 
 frightened ! " And her eyes were big with memories. 
 " She burst through the arbor like the tornadoes that 
 blow on the coast. I have been hidden ever since." 
 
 "And your gallant inamorato where is he? 
 Did you discard him in your fright? " 
 
 Madame Villette gave him one appealing glance. 
 In vain she strove to control the curves of her 
 laughing mouth. The humor of the situation 
 proved too much for her, and her complex emotions 
 were expressed by unrestrained laughter, though the 
 tears shone on her lashes. 
 
 " He never waited for dismissal," she confessed. 
 " He ran one way and I ran the other. Ah, mcrci! 
 how frightened I was lest she should catch us ! " 
 
 " And you are in love, then, with a man who 
 could desert you in the face of danger?" queried 
 Zanalta. But she smiled at him flippantly, and a 
 little pitifully. 
 
 " As if that made any difference," she retorted, 
 disdainfully. A ny man would have run if Senora 
 Zanalta had appeared to him with such anger. But 
 it is not either for what he does or leaves undone 
 
DIEGO ZANALTA LAYS PLANS. 259 
 
 that I care for him; I care just because he is 
 himself." 
 
 " And who is to tell you that he does not address 
 you because of the report that the Widow Villette 
 has a handsome store of wealth laid by for her? " 
 
 But she only laughed. 
 
 " It is not the money, Diego. How ungallant of 
 you to suppose a man would only look at me if I was 
 well-dowered ! " 
 
 Zanalta seemed to scarcely hear her. He was look 
 ing with some attention and perplexity at a compart 
 ment in his desk where some papers were visible, 
 and he tossed them about impatiently as though in 
 search of something. 
 
 "And, Diego, there is the Virgin Constante was 
 to paint for the chapel, and Donna Zanalta swears 
 it shall not be now ; that she has influence and will 
 have the order for it withdrawn ; that she " 
 
 " Peace ! " he commanded, sharply. " I scarce can 
 think for your chattering. Something has gone 
 from this room since I left here an hour or so ago. 
 Who has entered here ? " 
 
 " No one not a soul." 
 
 " No one of whom you know, perhaps," he agreed ; 
 "but, nevertheless, there has been some pilfering 
 here. A parchment is gone, one with lettering in 
 red ink on the outside ; the contents of it one of the 
 most ancient plans of land made on these shores 
 the outline of a royal grant made in the year 1714, 
 surveyed by an order of Anthony Crozat. It may 
 be that the names or dates tell you nothing ; you 
 are heedless of your own land boundaries as the 
 
260 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 birds that fly ; but this document is a curiosity. I 
 held it in my hand this morning- ; it was left there, 
 I could swear to it, and now it is gone." 
 
 " Is it valuable would it be of money s worth to 
 any one?" asked Ninon, searching diligently in 
 every portion of the room for a parchment with 
 lettering of red. 
 
 " Money s worth ? No ; not unless I should some 
 day choose to reopen that contest of the boundary 
 with Durande; and but, yes, it is of worth in 
 money, too, for I have promised a sight of it to a 
 gentleman curious in such things, and a person from 
 whom I will want a favor in return. It is like witch 
 craft that it should go just at this time. Go question 
 all the house-servants; learn if any of them were 
 seen to enter here. It must be found. A roll the 
 size of this, but marked with red letters." 
 
 " Yes, Diego." But Ninon eyed him with attention 
 as she neared the door. Was this loss perhaps only 
 an imaginary thing, she was asking herself of 
 kindred to the phantoms with which he talked in 
 the night-time ? " I will make search, Diego ; but I 
 am just the least afraid of Donna Zanalta. She is 
 still furious ; and Constante 
 
 " Oh, may the devil seize Constante ! Get you 
 gone ! " 
 
 And then Madame Villette withdrew in haste, and 
 was fully convinced that the loss was an imaginary 
 one. For how could any well-balanced mind fling 
 execrations at the devoted head of Constante 
 Raynel ? 
 
 And straightway the lady concluded to search for 
 
MONSIEUR LAMORT PAYS A VISIT. 261 
 
 that wisely cautious knight, and confer with him on 
 the subject, instead of wasting precious time in 
 search for an old parchment, red-lettered and 
 ancient though Diego thought it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MONSIEUR LAMORT PAYS A VISIT. 
 
 AND so when Victor Lamort himself chanced to 
 drop in for a chat the paper was not yet found, 
 though Senor Zanalta quickly smoothed his dis 
 turbed countenance, and came forward to greet his 
 rare guest. 
 
 " I am weary of the jangling across there at the 
 Cabildo," he confessed, " and your gardens looked 
 so inviting with their shade that I yielded to the 
 temptation of them and have arrived at your door." 
 
 "My house is honored by your visit, Monsieur 
 Lamort," returned Zanalta. "It is an honor few 
 houses of Orleans can boast of, for you ever seem 
 too busy a man for rest under any man s roof but 
 your own. And are the affairs of the Cabildo ended 
 for the day ? And what of the red slaves? " 
 
 " They will be slaves but for a little longer, senor," 
 affirmed the other with confident tone. " It has 
 been many years since O Reilly, acting for the king 
 of Spain, prohibited further traffic in Indian slaves, 
 and yet after more than twenty years they toil on 
 the plantations. They are bought and sold agam 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 to the highest bidder. But now that they have 
 wakened to a sense of their rights, and now that 
 chiefs from every tribe are coming to the judgment, 
 the question can no longer be dismissed as an indif 
 ferent one ; even Corondalet perceives that, though 
 he objects to an immediate sweeping aside of the 
 present state of things, and recommends compro 
 mise. But that of itself would be a link weakened 
 in the chain the red slave wears." 
 
 " Of course you are aware that the planters will 
 fight the case," hazarded Zanalta, " and that every 
 owner of slaves, no matter what their color may be, 
 will range themselves against you and your pro 
 teges ?" 
 
 Lamort smiled indifferent assent. 
 
 " Yes, they tried to make me understand that ; 
 but it will not matter. Every reform must combat 
 prejudice." 
 
 " You are courageous, monsieur, to face the pros 
 pect of social ostracism for the sake of some stupid 
 savages who can never comprehend your sacrifice 
 for them." 
 
 " Scarcely that," returned Lamort, still with the 
 little smile about his lips. " You see, notwithstand 
 ing the fact that I have remained three years on 
 your shores, I am likely to leave them in three hours 
 if I no longer find pleasure here, or work to interest 
 me." 
 
 " And the work to interest you must mean reform 
 of some sort," said Zanalta, with assumed brightness. 
 " To me it ever appears a matter for pity that you 
 direct your endeavors only to the more wealthy ancj 
 
MONSIEUR LAMORT PAYS A VISIT. 263 
 
 intelligent class. One grows sorry to see forever 
 some of his friends being led to the Cabildo for judg 
 ment, as though they were the most insignificant of 
 artisans, while in fact more than one who has been 
 brought to defeat at your word served as a law-giver 
 himself at some time. You have a scent like an 
 Indian for game that has stepped from the straight 
 path into the shadows for an instant." 
 
 Lamort rubbed his palms together in a pleased 
 way, accepting the words as a compliment. 
 
 " While one is in the world one must do some 
 thing," he observed ; " and what better than to set 
 wrong right? The ruling class should, in justice, 
 pay a heavier price for faults committed than the 
 masses of humanity, for their superior intelligence 
 should be weighed with the fault." 
 
 Zanalta glanced at him, with a little shiver. He 
 could see a certain narrow groove after all in the 
 man they all thought so calm, so evenly balanced. 
 He seemed for one instant to perceive in him one 
 idea embodied, and that idea the meting out of jus 
 tice according to his conception of the word. It is 
 the one-idea man who develops into the fanatic 
 later into the madman. And Zanalta arose, with a 
 strange foreboding of evil as the revelation of the 
 man s character came to him. He only crossed the 
 room for some water and wine ; but the mere sense 
 of movement was a relief after that fancy, and he 
 shook his shoulders as though flinging off a weight, 
 and told himself, as Rochelle had told him, that he 
 was to be congratulated since this justice-hunter had 
 never shown signs of suspicion toward him not 
 
264 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 even a hint of smuggling, a thing for which many 
 gentlemen had been made to pay fines and receive a 
 black mark across an otherwise faultless record. 
 Assuredly he had been rarely lucky. 
 
 And thinking so, he offered of his choicest wine to 
 the fanatic who fought for- justice in high places 
 wine brought ashore not long since from Rochelle s 
 vessel, and presumably liable to confiscation ; and 
 Monsieur Lamort sipped it with innocent enjoy 
 ment, and observed that he must not tarry, for 
 Delogne had met him a little way down the street 
 and given him tidings that a stranger guest awaited 
 his attention, an old priest brought by some of the 
 Indians from the far north country. He had grown 
 ill on the journey, and they, after their fashion, had 
 brought him to the " house of the exiles " instead of 
 to the dwellings of his order. 
 
 " That is one of the undesirable things about 
 popularity with the natives and lower classes," 
 remarked Zanalta. " They would turn your house 
 into a cafe with never a thought of your incon 
 venience." 
 
 " True ; but then, again, they might be just as will 
 ing to transform their poor wigwams into a hostelry 
 for me should I require it," said Lamort, tranquilly ; 
 " and if they never bring me a less welcome guest 
 than one of those faithful pioneer priests, of whom 
 I have heard much well, I will have no quarrel 
 with them on that score. By the way, senor, do 
 you remember speaking of an old parchment in 
 your possession of which I was promised a sight 
 a survey of a certain royal grant given by Crozet ? 
 
MONSIEUR LAMORT PAYS A VISIT. 265 
 
 I may need it in evidence within a few days, so take 
 the liberty to remind you of it." 
 
 " And it shall be yours," declared Zanalta. " I am 
 a little curious to know how it can be of use to you, 
 yet am willing that it should be. Is it a question of 
 Durande s land ? " 
 
 " Well, yes; it may be," agreed Lamort, as though 
 studying whether to give or keep a secret. "A 
 portion of that estate was illegally confiscated to the 
 Spanish crown ; the evidence is clear, and another 
 heir is in the field. Without that ancient survey it 
 can be proven, but with it, all can be arranged 
 rapidly, and with no long expensive trial as to just 
 the position of landmarks and so on." 
 
 " And it will deprive Durande of his plantation? " 
 asked Zanalta, with utter amazement showing in his 
 face and voice. But Monsieur Lamort smiled in a 
 deprecating way as he answered : 
 
 " Of part of that plantation on which he resides I 
 think I can say yes; but of course the crown can 
 easily grant him another tract, and thus make 
 amends for the fault of its officials after the insur 
 rection of 68. Those in command of the colony at 
 that time confiscated all properties of the revolu 
 tionists, and it has been discovered at this late day 
 that they also, through excess of zeal, confiscated 
 lands to which the rebels had no claim, and after 
 ward distributed the same wherever their policy 
 prompted them. So it was with a portion of the 
 tract sold later to Monsieur Durande. It is to the 
 crown to which that gentleman must look for another 
 land grant, and it will doubtless be given. The 
 
266 
 
 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 kings of a country should take heed that honest 
 dealing should be enacted there. Justice should be 
 ever held in honor." 
 
 Zanalta noticed, as before, that firm setting of the 
 mouth at the mention of justice. For an instant it 
 made the speaker s face look harder and older. 
 
 "But the plantation sacre ! It is the pride of 
 his life that place. Even Charles of Spain could 
 not select in all his lands an estate to recompense 
 Durande for Royal Grant. Not that I need vex my 
 mind with it, for he reached over our boundary-line 
 many a furlong. Yet, his Indian slaves to go, and 
 now his homestead ! Well, it will lower his hip-h 
 
 1 1 > ^ 
 
 head. 
 
 There was a spice of satisfaction in his tone, 
 though he shook his head over the evil prospect 
 for his neighbor, and Monsieur Lamort, watching 
 closely, took advantage of it. 
 
 " So you see I take you into my confidence con 
 cerning this legal discussion that is to be, that you 
 may know the paper you possess is to be used only 
 in the cause of justice. When it pleases you to let 
 me see it, I will be in your debt, in behalf of the 
 new heir, and I only ask an opportunity to return 
 so gracious a favor." 
 
 " Good ! " thought Zanalta ; " it is worth some plan 
 ning to hear him say that." But aloud he said : 
 :< The paper is for you, monsieur ; this day I will look 
 for it ; and it may indeed be that when I take it to 
 you I also may ask a document at your hands for the 
 settlement of a provoking affair. You, as alcalde, 
 might save me distraction concerning it. Nothing 
 
MONSIEUR LAMORT PAYS A VISIT. 267 
 
 more serious than the claiming of a slave whose 
 mother, belonging to me, tricked me into thinking 
 dead that the young one might be reared out of 
 slavery. You understand ? Oh, it was well thought 
 out, and succeeded for a long time ; and even now 
 I want it settled without the woman being punished, 
 as she would be punished if the case should go before 
 the Cabildo. I feel certain you will be of one mind 
 with me in that." 
 
 " Indeed, yes ; but you Spanish grandees seldom 
 evade the spirit of the law in that way." And the 
 gaze of Monsieur Lamort was sharp and a little 
 doubtful. " Are your sympathies turning to the 
 side of the unwilling blacks who are brought yearly 
 to our shores? " 
 
 " I think not," returned Zanalta, with assumed 
 indifference. He knew it would never do to pretend 
 any such sudden change of opinion. " No, I think, 
 as always, that the condition of the African in our 
 land, surrounded by civilization and the example of 
 the whites, is decidedly preferable to the wild, use 
 less, savage life they have hitherto known. But of 
 late you are aware they, together with the red slaves, 
 clamor for privileges unknown of old. The revolu 
 tion over the seas breeds discontent even here, and 
 more than one master has of late found his black 
 people hard to manage. The whipping of a slave 
 by the authorities generates sullen antagonism 
 toward the master who sent him there ; and if the 
 slave is a strong-willed fellow well, he will breed 
 discontent over an entire plantation, and the brutes 
 won t work so well. I ve noted it often. Now I do 
 
268 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 not want to have that sort of feeling in my fields. 
 I have too much work to do. And it is bad for a 
 plantation when people say females are flogged 
 there. So you comprehend my several reasons for 
 not going before the regidors with my claim. 
 They would be just and grant it, but they would 
 also be unbending, and the slave-woman would be 
 cut in stripes for her duplicity. Now, knowing the 
 case, can you without annoyance to yourself assist 
 in it?" 
 
 " I think so," said Victor Lamort, slowly. He 
 understood now why the survey had not been given 
 to him at once Zanalta wished to purchase a favor 
 with it. Well, as Zanalta stated his own case, it 
 sounded reasonable enough. It would be but little 
 to do that, a stroke of a pen to a document calling 
 for the subservience of a slave to his master, and in 
 exchange 
 
 " You have proofs, of course, of your claim ? " he 
 asked. " Are they satisfactory ? " 
 
 "Entirely. The confession of the mother but 
 we will speak of that when the paper is prepared, and 
 that may be to-night, for I dislike much to carry the 
 weight of a disagreeable duty undone. At what 
 hour could I call on you in the matter? " 
 
 This or to-morrow evening, after the darkness 
 falls. All the day hours of this week I will have 
 little leisure." 
 
 This or to-morrow evening ? I am most grate 
 ful, monsieur. You will surely see me, and with me 
 the ancient survey we spoke of. In fact I think of 
 voyaging for a few weeks along the coast to the 
 
MONSIEUR LAMORT PAYS A VISIT. 269 
 
 east if weather promises fair ; any fine wind might 
 tempt me, and it would be well to have these land 
 cares off my hands." 
 
 " A voyage along- the coast? " remarked Monsieur 
 Lamort, with polite interest. " Yes, the sea is attract 
 ive to many at this fair season. May good weather 
 attend yon, Senor Zanalta." 
 
 And then the gentlemen separated, each well 
 satisfied with the meeting, and at once on the 
 departure of his guest the Senor Zanalta com 
 menced again the troublous search for that survey ; 
 but in no corner was it found. All the threats 
 launched at the household and they were many 
 and lurid failed to discover any vestige of it or 
 any one who had disturbed it. 
 
 But the afternoon was slipping away. Much was 
 to be clone. When once he made a move toward the 
 recovery of that slave he meant to act as a falcon 
 swoops with unerring swiftness on its victim. Not 
 time for cry or protest must be allowed, no hesita 
 tion to give others time to counter-plan ; every por 
 tion of arrangement must be made ere a word was 
 uttered of his real meaning. Meanwhile that 
 survey ! 
 
 And then Don Diego Zanalta busied himself with 
 various parchments, and finally selecting one, called 
 for red ink. His memory of the main landmarks 
 was good enough to make a rough draft of the 
 domain. At a casual glance it might be accepted as 
 the original ; the duplicity would not be discovered 
 until after he was aboard ship, and even on his return, 
 how simple to protest that the original had been pur- 
 
270 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 loined without his knowledge, that he had acted in 
 good faith, and the spurious copy was a mystery to 
 him. 
 
 So he worked, completing even the red lettering 
 on the roll, and giving it much the appearance of the 
 one missing. Then he called for black Gourfi, who 
 listened to some orders, departed with quickness as 
 he was bidden, and returned ere long, but shook his 
 head when his master glanced past him into the 
 corridor. 
 
 " She did not come ; she was not even to be seen," 
 he announced. And his master flung the pen down, 
 with angry words. 
 
 " Give me the reason where has she gone ? " 
 " No farther than an inner room, master ; but a 
 sick man is there a priest they name him Father 
 Luis. He came down the river with the red men. 
 He is old he needs care ; and the Master Lamort 
 bade Venda not to leave his side this day and this 
 night. So the people in the cook-house told me, 
 and it is true. That is all." 
 
 "And enough. It will change my plans for 
 twenty-four hours. But you, Gourfi, with a still 
 tongue in your head, prepare for me wearing ap 
 parel for a month. Have it ready to go in a small 
 boat any instant it is needed ; and be silent." 
 
DIEGO SEES A GHOST. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DIEGO SEES A GHOST. 
 
 MONS. CONSTANTS RAYNEL learned that even the 
 path of an accepted lover may have thorns amidst 
 the roses of happiness. The thorns in his case were, 
 first, Senora Zanalta, whose presence he dreaded to 
 such an extent that he walked ever in the shadows 
 when waiting in the gardens for his beloved, and 
 even planned a rendezvous at the house of Monsieur 
 Lamort, where they might dare speak aloud once 
 more; and the other thing vexatious to his spirit 
 was Diego Zanalta himself, who had disturbed 
 Madame Villette so greatly with his fancies that she 
 insisted her lover must haunt his steps, learn where 
 he wandered to when the darkness fell, and what 
 were the associations to which he must owe his 
 unquiet hours of the night, for Ninon never guessed 
 that the cause of those unquiet hours might have been 
 dark memories of his own past. 
 
 And because of her wishes had her favorite knight 
 undertaken a duty by no means safe or pleasant 
 that of shadowing a gentleman who was reputed to 
 use a dagger skillfully. If he could have taken 
 Maurice into his confidence the task would have 
 troubled him less ; but his little governor-general 
 said "no." 
 
 " And I may be given a slit with a knife in the 
 darkness, and never one would know what became of 
 
272 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 me," he lamented ; for in his own mind he had an 
 idea that Senor Diego was simply a smuggler, and 
 his absence at night a most simple affair to those in 
 his confidence. 
 
 But as the dusk fell he was at a station where the 
 domain of Zanalta could be viewed, and as the last 
 bar of yellow light died over the western levels he 
 saw a sailor pass, a swarthy half-breed, with glinting 
 tinsel showing here and there in his apparel an 
 expression of semi-barbaric taste. He halted oppo 
 site the house Constante was watching, and then as 
 Zanalta. himself appeared at a window he sped across 
 to him, with one hand upheld to attract attention. 
 
 Then there followed questions and answers, and 
 the seaman said, " Yes, the vessel will be at your 
 control from this evening, but our commander can 
 not speak to you of it unless it should please you to 
 go now to the cafe of Manette. Later he is engaged ; 
 to-morrow he is engaged." 
 
 Zanalta smiled as he answered, " Your master 
 will no longer bear the title of the night-hawk if 
 he receives company so early. We may soon hope 
 to greet him at noonday if this continues. But 
 return to him with my compliments ; say I will be 
 with him ere long." 
 
 Constante was too far away to hear their words, 
 only their nods and gestures were visible ; and he 
 strolled deeper into the shadows as the messenger 
 repassed the spot where he had stood. His steps 
 carried him so far that he found himself near a 
 lattice where a light shone, and where the voice of 
 Senora Zanalta made the air heavy with ire. She 
 
DIEGO SEES A GHOST. 273 
 
 was venting her earnest wrath on some slave, and 
 calling- the saints to witness her own patience under 
 the trials laid on her by that household. 
 
 The listener slipped away by a more roundabout 
 path, lest she should look from the lattice and dis 
 cover his unforgiven self. In doing so more time 
 was consumed than he had reckoned on, and when 
 he again came in sight of the house entrance, Don 
 Diego was just turning the opposite corner with all 
 possible speed ; the watcher took his track, keeping 
 as small a space as he dare between them, but he 
 found the distance long enough, for Zanalta had a 
 most troublesome way of looking behind him often 
 of stopping and peering into shadowy paths if 
 any crossed his own all the nervous actions of 
 a man who is afraid of something near him but 
 unseen. 
 
 Constante had heard rumors of his skill with 
 hilted steel of duels in Old Spain, and of men who 
 had fallen victims to his excellence in that fine art. 
 Did he carry the memory of them with him when 
 the night fell ? His follower mentally decided yes. 
 
 Much more certain was he when close by the 
 thick willows near the river Zanalta halted, with a 
 cry that was neither scream nor moan, but a 
 mingling of each, a strangling, strained note of 
 horror sounding through the darkness. It was 
 scarcely a cry for help, yet Constante, who could 
 move lightly and in silence because of the skin 
 shoes he wore, sped over the path to his side ; 
 or rather behind him, where he too paused abruptly, 
 for close in front of them a man stood in the 
 
 18 
 
274 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 shadows a man with a strange, pale face and 
 stern eyes ; his mouth was hidden by a mustache and 
 the fur cap of a voyageur covered his head. His 
 dress was also that of the ranger the fringed 
 leggings and hunting-coat, the knotted scarf of 
 scarlet at the throat. Constante noted it all with 
 the trained eye of an artist. Strangest of all, 
 the loose gown of a priest was thrown over the 
 shoulders of the figure, while the eyes were bent 
 significantly on the face of Zanalta, and one hand 
 was held aloft, pointing heavenward, as if in judg 
 ment. 
 
 And to this figure Diego Zanalta was muttering in 
 supplicating tones. 
 
 " Again ! Oh, cross of the Christ ! Can you not 
 rest ? It is done it is all over - masses can be 
 that is all. I did not do it I never touched your 
 knife you know. If you would speak. O God! 
 anything would be better than this silence, and your 
 face everywhere ! Speak, though it kill me ! You 
 poison life with your cursed eyes. Speak, De 
 Bayarde, or I - 
 
 He leaped forward, convulsed by a sort of furious 
 fear, and as the figure seemed to recede before him, 
 he fell in a fainting-fit where it had stood. 
 
 The fall broke the spell of utter wonder which 
 had bound Raynel, and he bent over the man to see 
 if he had indeed died in that terror. When he 
 raised his eyes again toward that silent accuser 
 nothing was there but the dusky shadows and the 
 faint lights yet lingering on the willow-stems. 
 
 It was all so strange to him. His head was in a 
 
DIEGO SEES A GHOST. 275 
 
 whirl ; his hair seemed to lift his hat when the form 
 was no longer to be seen. And then the thought 
 that he was there in the willows with a dead man ! 
 
 But Zanalta was not dead ; he soon breathed, and 
 even spoke, begging to be taken home, out of the 
 shadows. 
 
 " And it is you ? " he said, finally. " How but you 
 will tell me later. Well, it is you. I am ill. I will 
 go to-morrow not later you tell Rochelle ; but 
 you do not know him. My head swims; I can t 
 think ; but I ll go to-morrow." 
 
 And that night, despite the orders of Madame 
 Ninon, Constante betook himself to Maurice, and 
 recounted the wonderful events of the evening with 
 more exactness than he had ventured to tell his 
 betrothed, fearing she should think he also needed 
 a guardian if he was beginning to see forms in each 
 shadowy place. 
 
 And Maurice, with his mind yet filled with that late- 
 learned history of De Bayarde sat long after the 
 departure of Constante trying to fathom the mystery 
 of this strange appearance. He understood more 
 clearly now the words of Zanalta that first evening 
 at Monsieur Lamort s his earnest desire to hear 
 what the others thought of spirit returns. Had this 
 wraith of the past been haunting his steps so long ? 
 Was it a wraith, or a reality ? and if the latter, who 
 was trading on a resemblance to that exiled man for 
 the purpose of giving fright to Zanalta? Was 
 Rochelle interested, that Zanalta had spoken of him 
 at once on regaining consciousness Rochelle, the 
 peculiar man who was never seen on Orleans Island 
 
276 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 when the sun shone, but whose night visits had led 
 people to attribute evil character to the mystery 
 about him ? 
 
 Maurice Delogne had, however, been able to 
 discover no single evil thing against him in the 
 official annals of the island, or on the books of the 
 regidors. No complaints, no charges of smuggling 
 or other tamperings with law. After that even 
 ing when Don Zanalta had disclaimed knowledge of 
 the Sea Gull s commander Maurice had, out of his 
 instinctive dislike of the man, distrusted him. He 
 had learned that the sailors of Monsieur Rochelle 
 were all credited with being half-breeds ; no man 
 entirely white had ever been seen with him as com 
 panion. Generally he was alone, and his wagers 
 and winnings at the card-table were things noto 
 rious among the limited circle with whom he 
 played ; and Delogne had learned that Zanalta was 
 one of the aristocratic few. Never a plebeian in 
 Rochelle s game, only with the best blood of Or 
 leans would he take part in play, and the best 
 blood was invariably worsted by the gamester whom 
 they in return called a smuggler and buccaneer. 
 But Delogne himself decided that he was simply a 
 clever adventurer, who assumed a mysterious man 
 ner of life the better to awe the credulous and 
 impose on them with his tricky games. 
 
 And in spite of himself he could not but connect 
 the night-hawk the man of whom the people loved 
 to romance with the apparition seen there on the 
 river-walk ; some wager of the gamester, perhaps. 
 But the motive and the manner of the phantom was 
 
VENDA. 277 
 
 not to be fathomed by any of his conjectures, though 
 all his mind was alert because of those late confi 
 dences of Monsieur Lamort, whom he wished with all 
 his heart he could acquaint with the story ere he slept 
 an impossibility, however, as Monsieur Lamort 
 once retired to his own rooms for the day or night 
 never allowed himself to be intruded upon. 
 
 But one member of the household heard the story 
 as Monsieur Raynel told it, one who knelt outside 
 the door and listened with pleased eyes and nodding 
 head. When the horror and fright of Don Zanalta 
 was described she hugged herself and rocked to and 
 fro as if in silent laughter, but not a sound did she 
 utter ; and the ailing priest whom she tended scarcely 
 missed her brown face and gentle hand about him, 
 her departure and return were so swift and silent. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 VENDA. 
 
 BUT in the waning sun of the next day it was no 
 laughing Venda who faced her former master and 
 listened to his commands with frowning brows. 
 
 " So ! this why Gourfi come there and say, Master 
 lost something ; he want Venda the voudou to find it 
 for him, quick. I see now Gourfi lie. It is not a loss 
 you have met. And why should I tell lie too, eh ? 
 No good to do it. Venda never had child ; all old 
 
278 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 ncgrcssc know that. No, Venda not want Cabildo 
 men to put irons on her for that." 
 
 Zanalta stared at her gloomily. His own dislike 
 to a conversation with her was made more difficult 
 by her stupid objections. 
 
 " You are not to decide. Your master is to judge ; 
 and no matter whose gold pays for you, Diego 
 Zanalta is ever your master do you hear? The 
 judges will never hear that you had no child born. I, 
 Zanalta, say you had. You also say so, else the 
 judges will of a certainty hear strange things of you 
 -things worse than the irons that frighten you. 
 Well do you know what I mean." 
 
 And her eyes showed that she did know. One dark 
 glance of beseeching and of hatred was turned on 
 him, but she said no word. He smiled a little at the 
 satisfaction of his power over her. 
 
 " As for the child," he continued, " it is a child no 
 longer. It is of mixed blood, but looks white, and is 
 wrongfully received among ladies who are white. 
 It is only right that it should be changed. Once, 
 years ago, you were with your mistress, Felice, the 
 winter she died at the plantation Solle. A child 
 could have been born there, and no one lives who 
 could contradict it." 
 
 " Yes," and she looked at him with wide frightened 
 eyes y e s, a child might have been born there ; no 
 one would know." And then she looked relieved at 
 some new thought. " But, master, I, Venda, could 
 not have a white child it could not be; not I, a 
 dark woman." 
 
 " Such things have been will be often, when the 
 father is white." 
 
VENDA. 279 
 
 " White father oh ! " And she gazed at him with 
 questioning eyes, waiting for more she saw he was 
 about to tell her. From his desk he took a long 
 piece of paper and unfolded it. 
 
 "You promise? "he demanded. She hesitated. 
 The paper looked so like one she had heard read by 
 the Cabildo man years ago when the brand of hot 
 iron had fallen on her. The thought of that time 
 made her tremble in her heart. Ah, those judges ! 
 
 " You promise, or I, Diego Zanalta, will say to the 
 rulers things that will send you to death ere two 
 suns pass. Speak ! Will you claim the girl as I tell 
 you? " 
 
 u Yes, Venda will do it," she assented, lowly. 
 " Tell her what she is to do. Where is the child?" 
 
 He smiled that he had vanquished her so easily, 
 and knew well she would never willingly serve him ; 
 but after that punishment long ago her fear of the 
 law was great. 
 
 He opened the paper, reading extracts from it 
 that she might grasp the meaning. 
 
 M I, Diego Zanalta, affirm, etc., and hold that the 
 slave-woman Venda, now the property of Victor 
 Lamort, purchased by me from the estate of Gaston 
 le Noycns, was, while my property, delivered of a 
 child on the plantation of Madame Marie Solle, 
 which child, being of white skin, she concealed from 
 her owner, and did wrongfully and in secret convey 
 to the foundling basket of the Ursuline convent on 
 the night of Christmas, 177-, hoping it would be 
 reared apart from the people of color, where it be 
 longed. At last her guilt has been discovered, and 
 
280 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Don Zanalta, because of her full and penitent con- 
 fession, desires that no punishment be visited upon 
 her, and only asks the return of the girl, who is his 
 legal property, as her mother was owned by him at 
 the time of the birth. More, that he begs, for the 
 sake of the good nuns and their worthy work, that 
 the mulatto girl be given up by them without pro 
 test, and thus avert the scandal that would ensue if 
 it goes abroad that the daughters of the planters 
 and ladies of noble blood have been trained side 
 by side with a slave, and that she has been treated 
 in all ways as their peer. 
 
 " The woman Venda further confesses that the girl 
 is the daughter of her late master, Gaston le Noyens, 
 and Don Zanalta is desirous of giving the girl due 
 consideration because of that fact, and because of 
 her superior refinements, but most earnestly de 
 mands the righting of this wrong, that he may 
 remove this present cause of insult to every lady 
 who is a pupil of the convent. The girl has been 
 given the name of Denise by the nuns, and by that 
 name I do request her. Beseeching the gracious 
 clemency, etc. 
 
 "You see," he continued, putting aside the paper, 
 "you have nothing to do when the Alcalde reads 
 this paper but to say it is all true and that you were 
 the black woman who was seen bearing a child to 
 the convent gate. You comprehend ? Say just that 
 and no more." 
 
 She looked at him with a face that shone ashen in 
 the bright light, and her lips seemed stiff when she 
 tried to speak. 
 
VENDA. 281 
 
 "Oh, you need not stare like that because Le 
 Noyens name is mentioned," and he spoke impa 
 tiently ; " that is the only safe way, and is reason 
 able enough. Remember if they ask you, you must 
 say the child was born at the plantation of Madame 
 Solle when you were allowed by my permission to 
 wait on Mademoiselle Felice during her last illness, 
 and that you yourself carried the child into the 
 town and left it at the convent gate on that Christ 
 mas night." 
 
 " On the Christmas night," she repeated, as 
 if trying to beat the meaning of it in on her own 
 mind. "But, master oh, the good God!- 
 master 
 
 " Enough of that ! " he commanded ; " no protests, 
 and no begging off. You have promised, and you 
 must do it, just as I have told you. Must ! do 
 you hear? " 
 
 "But oh, listen! Yes, I promise oh, God! 
 Venda do all you want if you only tell her clear 
 about that child. It ^died that child at the con 
 vent basket it died. I know I heard." 
 
 " No doubt; you hear everything, and I am glad 
 you remember the time. Yes, a child died there, 
 but it was the other child died. Two were left there 
 that night one with a white skin and one that 
 looked like an Indian, or colored child. The dark 
 one was dead in the morning, but the white one is 
 the girl Denise." 
 
 "They said it died they said it died," she 
 repeated, with her hands at her own throat, as one 
 looks when strangling. 
 
A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 He looked at her sharply, but her wild, despairing 
 face told him nothing but her own personal fear of 
 the judges and the risk of the lie she was to tell. 
 
 " But I tell you it did not it is alive, and is the 
 child of Venda, once called Zizi, and of Gaston le 
 Noyens, her master. That is all you are to remem 
 ber ; and it is to be settled at the house of your new 
 master, Monsieur Lamort." 
 
 "At his house!" she muttered; "his house!" 
 She was turning to walk away when Zanalta stepped 
 in front of her. 
 
 "Mind, no trickery in this, " he said, and warned 
 her with an upraised finger. " You had better be 
 dead than prove false in this you know." 
 
 " I know," she assented, and her head drooped. 
 " I have promised. I will be there ; I will say I left 
 the white child with the nuns. Speak when the 
 time comes." 
 
 And her voice sounded dead and heavy; her step 
 was as the step of a very old woman as she passed 
 out through the halls where her home had once 
 been. In the garden of roses she stopped and 
 touched a drooping branch of white fragrance. 
 "Venda love to touch you, little white rose," she 
 muttered, as though speaking to a living thing. 
 " Venda like just so the white Denise all these times 
 and never did know why. Now maybe she never 
 see either one of you again. Good-by, little white 
 rose." 
 
 She walked straight to the gates of the convent. 
 Once there she knew not what she had come to say. 
 She felt dulled and stupid, and sat for a little on 
 
VENDA. 283 
 
 the crisp dry grass without the gate ; sat there 
 while people passed and crossed themselves at sight 
 of the black witch woman who sat as if weaving 
 spells at the very gate of the sacred retreat. But 
 she was blind for once to their shrinking and awe of 
 her. All her thought was, " Will they listen will 
 the voudou be believed when she tells at last the 
 truth?" 
 
 Then she arose and walked straight to the guarded 
 gate, where she made request for the grand mother 
 superior, who seemed quite a royal person in the 
 colony. But no audience was possible so late in the 
 day, so the chatelaine of the gate replied ; and, any 
 way, no slave would be admitted without announcing 
 for what her master or mistress had sent her. 
 
 And Venda was barred out by that, for she had 
 no message from a master ; but she looked plead 
 ingly in the gentle face of the aged nun, and bowed 
 her head with that barbaric obeisance of respect. 
 
 " Might the slave who has no master s orders ask 
 one question when it is for good and not evil? " 
 
 " Surely," assented the kindly soul, much im 
 pressed by the strange brown woman whose hair 
 was so white above her youthful face. 
 
 " The things that are spoken within these gates 
 are never whispered to the people there?" and 
 Venda pointed to the town. 
 
 " We keep many secrets," confessed the nun ; and 
 Venda s face brightened as she saw she was under 
 stood. 
 
 " So ! it is good. This is secret. Listen ! One 
 Christmas a child, Denise, was left here is it so ? 
 
284 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Yes ? If you have love for her ask the ruler of this 
 house to have ready any clothes or writings that 
 came with her into the foundling basket any of 
 the smallest things even that would help to show 
 what people she came of. Do not look so ! I am 
 not touched with the head sickness I tell you 
 earnest truth. Soon, I know not what day, a grand 
 senor will come here and call her his. Bid them 
 have each thing ready, that no wrong may be done. 
 The slave-woman may tell you no more than that ; 
 but your convent child may fall in danger if you 
 pay no heed to the word I bring. I come for good, 
 not for evil. Good-by." 
 
 On the way to her master s house she met many 
 Indians of the Natchez. They chattered more than 
 usual. They talked in groups, and seemed glad ; 
 sometimes they shook hands as the white men do, 
 and their eyes smiled even when their tongues were 
 silent. And one man who was past middle age was 
 embraced by a group in which was one very old 
 Indian woman. He was her son, and had been held 
 in slavery thirty years. Others of the group were 
 his brothers, who had come with her to greet him 
 when his freedom came. 
 
 Absolute freedom was not yet given, but the gov 
 ernor had been pleased to grant many concessions, 
 for in the face of the law when it was held up 
 before him he could do no less ; and the half-freed 
 slaves were joyous that even the thin edge of the 
 wedge had been forced through the wall of the 
 white man s wishes. 
 
 And Venda reading their faces saw they were 
 
VENDA. 285 
 
 glad of heart they were almost free; and she 
 held her hands tight over her bosom she, who 
 would only know freedom through the gate of death. 
 Like all of her race, she feared the dark oblivion of 
 the grave. Yet one dies so many times while one 
 breathes and walks the earth ; would the final death 
 be harder than the things she had lived through ? 
 It seemed to her not, as she sought the master 
 whom she reverenced sought him that she might 
 confess a long-lived evil she had lived through ; 
 and when she had told him all, she knew he would 
 hate her he would banish her forever from his 
 sight. 
 
 Well, it was only one more death ! 
 
 But seek where she would, he was not to be found. 
 The sun was sinking, and she grew feverish over 
 her anxiety lest time enough would not be granted 
 her. She went away from his house and from 
 the Cabildo, and walked along the river-side, watch 
 ing ever the forms and faces about. She was rest 
 less as the ever-moving waves on the shore. 
 
 Then she caught sight of a shapely boat fastened 
 to the beach, while the only occupant lounged there 
 lazily and smoked a cigarette. She knew the craft, 
 as she knew most faces that came to the town. She 
 went down close to the man before she spoke. 
 
 " Do you wait here for your master? " she asked ; 
 and the sailor, Nicholas, looked up at her and 
 scowled sulkily. 
 
 " No such luck. I wait here for one of the noble 
 gallants such as you love to serve in the town 
 here. You are the witch, they say ; so you should 
 
286 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 know both the lord and the lady for whose pleasure- 
 trip this eraft waits from sundown until dawn of 
 three nights." 
 
 " Three nights ? and this is the last ? " 
 
 " To-morrow is the last." 
 
 " And they elope?" 
 
 " Who knows? Who she is has not been told ; but 
 the boat waits." 
 
 She looked out over the water. The setting sun 
 was just tinging it into lances of flame where the 
 ripples moved. She drew a long breath of relief ; 
 she feared the truth, but was glad at the thought 
 that another day s time might be given, would 
 likely be given, for it was growing late. He could 
 not have meant to-night. 
 
 Tell me can I see your master? "she asked,* 
 suddenly ; but he only sneered at her. 
 
 " Perhaps, if you know where to look for him ; I do 
 not." 
 
 " I think you lie," she said, carelessly; "but you 
 mean to keep faith, and that is good. Will you tell 
 me, then, if in the many people who pass you have 
 seen the face of Master Victor Lamort? " 
 
 "I think not, "he growled, and looked at her sus 
 piciously; "but you need not ask me about your 
 grand senors of the town there. I care little to 
 remember their faces or names." 
 
 " You are an ill beast for a woman to waste words 
 with," she remarked, and turned away. Then, not 
 ing the clear, warm sky and placid waters, added, 
 " Well, if Senor Zanalta makes choice of to-night for 
 his flitting he is like to have fine weather, eh?" 
 
VENDA, 287 
 
 The straight, contemptuous mouth of Nicholas 
 curved ever so little at her clever guess. 
 
 " So you do know? They tell me you are a vou- 
 dou witch and know most things. Now down in 
 San Domingo I knew a voudou woman ; she 
 
 But Venda walked away, as if careless of his 
 words. She had learned more than she came for, 
 and with her added fund of knowledge sought again 
 her master. 
 
 And Nicholas watched her go, and muttered sul 
 lenly to himself : 
 
 " Master Captain told me once to do good turn 
 for that white-head nigger if she ever came my way. 
 Um ! Master is queer in the head with his kind 
 ness. What she want with captain her ? I always 
 did hate niggers." 
 
 And he smoothed his hair where the black blood 
 showed in the ebon curls, and stared with somber 
 envy at the men of the Natchez moving along the 
 banquette in their gay woven blankets, and that 
 proud, unconquered look in their eyes they, the 
 red men, could walk out from their shackles and be 
 hailed by their kindred as warriors once more, but . 
 the African ! And Nicholas muttered curses on the 
 curse set in the blood of the black people a curse 
 so heavy that it was ground into their hearts and 
 brains ; and their courage and hope dwindled under 
 the weight of it until they did never dare in the pres 
 ence of white men to bear themselves dauntless as 
 those red men whom he envied. 
 
 And so he lay there and sulked, thinking of the 
 black blood in his own veins the blood he hated . 
 
288 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 and not realizing that the greatest general the 
 world had seen for a century past, or would see in 
 the next century to come, was a black man, even 
 then growing into power on that same island of San 
 Domingo the man who freed his brother slaves 
 despite the allied forces of England and Spain, whose 
 strongholds and ships he destroyed, and drove them 
 from the Southern waters despite the trained en 
 deavors of France, who sent an army against him ; 
 and fifty thousand French graves are left on that 
 island as testimony to his prowess. The man whose 
 name and deeds would be sung as the world sings of 
 heroes, had not the most powerful nations of that 
 time been smarting under the hurts he had given 
 them. Their poets had no songs of praise for the 
 " accursed black " who left but fragments of their 
 defeated armies. 
 
 But Nicholas swaying idly there in his boat knew 
 nothing of that great heart of slave-born Toussaint 
 L Ouverture, the heart aching even then over the 
 woes of the dark people ; and looking across at the 
 Natchez, who called him the " curled head," Nicholas 
 wished himself all of Natchez blood, because he 
 fancied in his ignorance that the black blood came 
 from the heart of cowards. 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 ALL that day Maurice Delogne had been restless 
 as the very spirit of the wind. The prospect held 
 out to him by Monsieur Lamort, the recovery of the 
 estate he had hoped so little for, opened up a new 
 vista and then, perhaps, he would dare kneel for 
 the favors of the Lady Denise. 
 
 The Lady Denise ! It was the title dearest of all 
 dear things to him, and he was even foolishly glad 
 that she had no added name. She was not as other 
 maidens; she was a fair white mystery, a strong, 
 gentle spirit, such as old legends tell of. All the 
 soft warm winds of the south brought him whispers 
 of Denise Denise ; every rustle of the leaves, 
 every ripple along the edge of the water where it 
 made music kissing the shore ; and the silent in 
 fluence of her seldom-seen face, her name, her 
 voice wrought wondrous changes in the young 
 man s mind. The Lady Denise it was a name to 
 conjure with, and under the witchery of it Maurice 
 grew more tolerant of even the love affairs of Con- 
 stante, and listened with more sympathy to his 
 course of latest true love and the disturbing influence 
 of Senora Zanalta. 
 
 And ere the dusk fell he was amused to see the 
 approach of Madame Ninon Villette from one direc 
 tion and the ardent Constante from another, each 
 
 19 
 
290 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 bending uncertain steps toward the dwelling of 
 Monsieur Lamort a rendezvous without a doubt, 
 and a pretty sure sign that the irate lady from 
 Madrid was yet formidable. 
 
 " Their infatuation is most surely blinding them 
 to the conventional in conduct," he thought as he 
 observed them. " They defy comment and slip here 
 like two guilty people to confer in secret here 
 where no lady s presence gives countenance to their 
 meeting. Ah, well, I too would lack wisdom after 
 the same fashion if the lady of my love would give 
 me smiles as are lavished on Constante. Yet yet 
 her eyes surely fell kindly on me, though her words 
 were chill and chiding. Oh ! that I dared hope she 
 was chiding her own heart when she spoke to me." 
 
 He entered with eager interest into the gossip of 
 the lovers over the strange state of mind into which 
 Diego Zanalta had fallen of late, and calmed some 
 what the fears of Madame Villette on the question. 
 The times were troublous ones in state affairs 
 revolt among the French people and among the 
 slaves of the Spanish islands. Many a master of 
 of plantations was nervous and watchful these days, 
 and slept none too soundly of nights. So he 
 assured her, and she was rather glad to be con 
 vinced that his unrest had a substantial cause 
 instead of an imaginary one ; it seemed less un 
 canny. 
 
 Monsieur Lamort was not visible, but Delogne 
 explained that much of his time had been spent with 
 the aged priest brought by the red men from the far 
 north lakes, and now a guest in the house, and one 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 291 
 
 requiring many attentions because of fatigue and 
 the infirmities of age. 
 
 Madame Villette would willingly have added her 
 share to the attentions paid the long-exiled holy 
 man, but that he was not yet thought strong enough ; 
 and the fetters of Constante were riveted even more 
 tightly by the tender interest she evinced in the 
 unknown one. 
 
 " He shall be at our house if he will so far honor 
 us," she declared. " It is a blessed privilege to 
 entertain warriors so dauntless as those who travel 
 with but a staff and the love of heaven wherewith to 
 conquer the souls of the savage men. He shall be 
 of our household at his own pleasure." 
 
 Delogne had withdrawn for a short space, and her 
 words were to Constante, for whom her smile was 
 sweetly inquiring, as of one who would mutely ask 
 commendation. It is so sweet in the earlier stages 
 of love s fever to defer thus to the ideas of one 
 other. 
 
 "To be sure," assented Raynel, airily. "The 
 sooner the better, madame. Perhaps with a priest 
 ever at your elbow you would be sooner impelled to 
 change vows with me at his bidding." 
 
 " To plight my troth to you, as the English say." 
 
 "More, oh star of love in my night-time! To 
 vow yourself my bride." 
 
 " How impetuous. Surely, the troth comes first. 
 Have you then considered in seriousness our idle 
 chat by the lattice?" 
 
 "Madame, you are pleased to jest this evening, 
 and your own eyes deny the tone of your speech. I 
 
292 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 pray you, give over making light of emotions so 
 earnest. Wit is brilliant, but cruel ; it kills feel 
 ing." 
 
 " Oh, monsieur, how fortunate your own is insured 
 so long a life ! " 
 
 11 Do you want me to destroy myself?" he de 
 manded, with a ferocious expression, and tramped 
 back and forward past her in the most successful 
 melodramatic fashion, while Madame Ninon, not ill 
 pleased, watched him from the corners of her charm 
 ing eyes. 
 
 "Of a truth, monsieur, I wish no harm to you ; 
 yet I have indeed envied those beauties whom men 
 loved well enough to die for." And madame glanced 
 up to mark the effect of her words, for he had halted 
 directly before her. u But for myself oh, no; I 
 never hope to be loved so well." 
 
 " Ah ! but I entreat you to believe that it is so," 
 he declared. " Love like that awaits your pleasure. 
 But why should I die unless cause comes ? Then, 
 if it were to serve you, I would live no more." 
 
 " You say so," hesitated the coquette. " But after 
 all you are a gay cavalier oh, I have heard so, 
 monsieur. You dare not say I am the first of your 
 loves ; and what assurance have I that I am to be 
 your best ? " 
 
 Constante s face actually paled at her words. 
 Angels of heaven ! what stories had come to 
 her ? With all his heart he wished he could present 
 a record like that of a stolid vegetable gardener 
 of the German coast up the river. But, alas ! the 
 fancies of days long forgotten came trooping into 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 293 
 
 his memory like jovial ghosts, every one of them 
 laughing at him. 
 
 " In fact," continued his tormentor, " remarks have 
 not been lacking in our household to the effect that 
 you would not have wooed so eagerly the poor 
 Ninon Villette had the poor Ninon not owned a 
 gilded name nay, monsieur, look not so angry ; I 
 only make this mention that you may understand 
 how I have been assailed, and how I have been 
 brought to consider your haste. I protest I find 
 you a most gentle cavalier, but to speak of troth so 
 hastily well, even yet I fancy you do not under 
 stand what it will mean to wed on these shores a 
 lady who is poor. You have not seen the poor but 
 gently born people who live here, many of them in 
 the most humble way ; and until you understand 
 that my husband s will was peculiar, and that even 
 the portion of his wealth that is mine during widow 
 hood will be 
 
 But Constante checked her revelations with the 
 impetuosity of a lover, and again his arms were 
 about her as he knelt at her feet. 
 
 " Give over, I pray you, all this wise chatter of 
 gold and its weight," he protested ; " all words from 
 your lips sound sweetly to me, but why waste our 
 chance happy moments with such conjectures? In 
 every land an able man can win a home for the 
 woman he loves, and with your love as a goal ah, 
 heavens ! I feel I could conquer half this wilder 
 ness. You shake your head you yet think of the 
 gold of which I think no more? Believe me, if by 
 ending your widowhood you lose your fortune, I 
 
294 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 vow to make a cottage love so joyous to you that 
 you will never regret the mansion you leave 
 behind." 
 
 Now Madame Ninon adored such love-making. 
 It was much more to her liking than the more cere 
 monious proposals addressed to her by various dig 
 nified and important gentlemen of the colony. But 
 content as she was with her wooer, she was not wise 
 enough to let well alone, but said, with archness and 
 provoking glances at his rapturous face : 
 
 " You speak of the gold for which you think no 
 more ; do you acknowledge, then, that you did once 
 care for it? " 
 
 And Constante, in the idiocy of love, and with the 
 conviction that he must not aspire to the sanctity of 
 her heart with any shadow of a He on his own soul, 
 did then most foolishly reveal former fancies and 
 visions of wealth that now paled into insignificance 
 beside the day-star of his passion. 
 
 "Then you once did have mercenary dreams?" 
 
 Constante thought her soft tones filled with 
 incredulity and sympathy, and blundered on. 
 
 " Most certainly. Ask Maurice he knows. You 
 see I was foolish ; I had dreamed of finding a rich 
 wife on these shores." 
 
 "Oh, you did?" 
 
 " Indeed, yes. How far away that folly looks! So 
 when I heard yes, beloved, I will confess all the 
 sin of it when I heard of the beautiful widow of 
 Villette charming, and rich 
 
 u Oh, monster! He will kill me, this French bar 
 barian ! Was the end of your scheme, monsieur, to 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 295 
 
 lock me in a convent or strangle me in the waters of 
 the great river ? Oh, I shall die ! Do not seek to 
 argue with me. I am sure I shall die ! " 
 
 And as a recompense for his sincere rendering up 
 of the truth to her, Constante found himself on his 
 knees before an empty chair and the departing 
 vision of his lady-love as she impetuously made a 
 stormy retreat into the court. 
 
 " Shall I follow her? Will she forever refuse to 
 look on me again ? Must my life then end in some 
 monk s cell alone and desolate ?" were a few of the 
 questions he asked of himself in despair. " Oh, fool 
 that I am ! Why did I tell her ? Fool angel that 
 she is! Why did she not hear the rest of the story? 
 I ll go mad ! " 
 
 But in the going he almost fell over Maurice, who 
 entered at that moment, and who gazed on Constante 
 with astonished eyes. 
 
 u Did you see her? Is she angry beyond pardon? 
 Oh, I beg you to tell me, when my soul s happiness 
 depends on it." 
 
 " You mean Madame Villette ? Yes, I passed her 
 in the room beyond. Pray what has chanced to 
 separate you so soon ? " 
 
 " Oh, my accursed tongue my lack of wit. vShe 
 spoke truly when she said I lacked wit sadly. Tell 
 me, I beg of you, how did she look what did she 
 say? Was she weeping? Oh, Ninon, Ninon!" 
 
 Delogne managed at last to learn the reason of his 
 despair, but avoided making any statement as to 
 the lady s expression or possible state of mind, for, 
 amused as he was, he dare not tell the frantic lover 
 
296 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 that he had come upon Madame Ninon laughing 
 most heartily under the palm-trees. 
 
 " She asked only to be admitted to the aged priest 
 of whom we spoke, so you had best not follow her 
 there with your stumbling speech. It is only right 
 that you do penance in solitude for awhile. You, upon 
 my word, the last man I should think so simple as 
 to tell such truths to a woman." 
 
 " I vow if she forgives me this time never to tell 
 her the truth again," declared the troubled wooer 
 with great earnestness; " and if you will permit 
 me I will at least remain here until she needs 
 an escort home. May the saints move her to par 
 don me ! " 
 
 "Stay, and welcome. Have you been at the 
 Cabildo to-day, or heard more of the red men and 
 their cause ? What say the planters ? " 
 
 " Much that is not complimentary to our friend 
 Lamort," confessed the other. " I assure you there 
 is a divided idea abroad as to whether he is an 
 angel of light for the help of the lower classes or a 
 demon of darkness for the overthrow of the rulers, 
 and for the stripping away all the cloaks from their 
 luxurious, careless sins. It is well he is brave, else 
 he could not hope to weather the storm he has 
 raised." 
 
 " Is Durande so bitter about the red slaves ? " 
 
 " Furious. And Senor Ronando is ever at his 
 elbow to exclaim over the injustice of setting them 
 free ; in fact more than one planter sees in it per 
 haps a future uprising of the black slaves as well, 
 and of course it would ruin the colony to .set them 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 297 
 
 free. But Monsieur Lamort is a comparative 
 stranger and does not think for the future here. 
 They say he only follows wild whims, and Satan 
 seems to aid him in his schemes. I tell you, Mau 
 rice, I esteem him highly, but strange things are 
 said of him, even witchcraft is whispered, for he 
 brings forward laws and testaments that the judges 
 dare not disdain legal documents of the early 
 Spanish rule, things singular for a stranger to own ; 
 and by them he has forced unwilling judgment in 
 his favor there at the Cabildo ; and even the officials 
 who grant his claims disapprove them. So you see 
 our friend is stirring up days of storm for himself." 
 
 " Perhaps ; I doubt if he cares. But tell me, has 
 there come to you any further word of Don Diego 
 and the specter?" 
 
 " Not a whisper. I did but show my face there 
 this noon, and the voice of Senora Zanalta sounded 
 so dangerously near that I made most hasty retreat. 
 However, I met him on the banquette later, and he 
 appeared strong and composed." 
 
 "The banquette at noon-time is not a favorite 
 promenade with most noble gentlemen here." 
 
 " True ; but Zanalta is often a busy man, and goes 
 where his interests call him. A half-Indian boat 
 man was his object to-day. Sacre! there he is now." 
 
 " The Indian boatman ? " 
 
 "Oh, confusion no. It is Zanalta, and he will 
 not fail to discover Ninon here, and he will think it 
 a fine piece of folly that we sally forth to meet in 
 another house than his. Hide me, can you not ? If 
 he finds her alone with the old priest he will think 
 
298 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 her what she is, an angel ; but if I also am dis 
 covered he will think her a fool." 
 
 Delogne pointed to an adjoining room, and Raynel 
 quickly took the hint and disappeared there, and, 
 settling himself behind some curtains, listened, 
 expecting each instant to hear the soft tones of the 
 Spanish gentleman; but not a sound came to him, 
 not even the step of Maurice, who must still be 
 standing there by the window facing the street. 
 
 With the idea that Don Zanalta had perhaps 
 halted at the portal for a chat with some one, and 
 would directly enter, Constante remained in his 
 nook until the sunlight was all gone from the sky. 
 An early star had slipped from its blue draperies 
 and shone gleaming and silvery through the lattice 
 at him. The half of an hour must have passed, and 
 not a sound. He arose impatiently and crossed the 
 threshold of the reception-room. 
 
 Delogne yet stood at the lattice, his eyes gazing 
 earnestly out, and his hands clasped tightly behind 
 him. His face was pale from some effort of self- 
 control. 
 
 " Would you have left me there all of the night, 
 Maurice?" complained his friend. " Each instant I 
 expected to hear him speak, yet he evidently passed 
 on, and you never called me." 
 
 The complaint fell on deaf ears, and looking at 
 Delogne in wonder for a moment, he crossed over 
 beside him, taking him affectionately by the arm. 
 " Maurice, you are ill what is it ? Come, rest here. 
 By my faith, you stood there as though made of 
 wood or stone. What ails you, man ? " 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 299 
 
 " He went there to the convent." And Delogne, 
 despite the detaining hand of his friend, returned 
 again to his point of lookout. 
 
 " Who do you mean Zanalta ? " 
 
 "He." 
 
 " But what of that ! Saints in heaven, what a 
 fright you gave me ! Your hand is cold, your face 
 looks like the dead, and all because a gentleman of 
 the town takes the air near the convent gate of 
 an evening." 
 
 " Be wary ! Though you are my friend, I will ever 
 check your jesting on this one subject. I tell you 
 his visit there this night bodes ill." 
 
 " How could that be whence comes your fancy ? " 
 
 " I can not tell, but I dare swear I am right. All 
 this day a heavy cloud has weighed upon me. All 
 my endeavors could not set it aside a dark un 
 formed shadow of foreboding. Here at this lattice 
 that shadow took form as I saw Diego Zanalta pass 
 onward to the convent. He goes not there in the 
 cause of any charity at this hour ; I am possessed by 
 the fear that he is there for harm to the Lady 
 Denise." 
 
 " Pooh ! you are affrighted at shadows. What sub 
 stance have you to found those fancies upon ? " 
 
 "Only the manner of the man when at any time 
 she has come in range of his eyes ; and she herself 
 dreads him I know it, for she ever avoids his 
 speech or his glance. Oh, I tell you - 
 
 He stopped abruptly, with a look on his face as if 
 some long-delayed comprehension had been granted 
 him. 
 
300 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Constante, tell me, where is the knife we picked 
 up on the sward that night when the lady was 
 assaulted is it here, or did you keep it? Some 
 chance there is to find substance instead of shadow 
 for my theory. Where did you put the knife ? " 
 
 " In your own chest brought over from France ; 
 if you have not removed it you will doubtless find 
 it there in all safety." 
 
 " Come, then, we will see." 
 
 A minute later they were bending over the chest, 
 and Constante drew the knife out from the place 
 where he had put it a slender, wicked blade with a 
 handle of ivory wreathed about with twisted silver, 
 a thing too handsome for a poor negro to own unless 
 perchance by theft. It recalled his own silfint sus 
 picion as to the owner. 
 
 Then Delogne sent a slave with a message to 
 Madame Ninon Villette, and a moment later the 
 patter, patter of her little heels was heard on the tiled 
 floor. She assumed an expression of great dignity 
 at sight of humble Constante, but smiled in a mad 
 dening way at the chevalier. 
 
 " Madame, I asked but to be received for an 
 instant, and did not presume to ask that you come 
 to me," said Maurice, bowing low. 
 
 "What matters it, monsieur? And really I was 
 reading aloud to the missionary of the red men s 
 country, and fancied the interruption of my absence 
 for a moment would not so much disturb him as to 
 hear converse in his presence on other topics." 
 
 " Ever thinking of others in that kindly heart of 
 yours," smiled the chevalier; " and I promise not to 
 
A RENDEZVOUS. 301 
 
 detain you long from so laudable a duty. To settle 
 a vexed question I only wish to ask if you have ever 
 before seen this?" 
 
 She drew back, looking with startled inquiry into 
 his face. 
 
 " What has happened why do you ask, and look 
 so exceedingly earnest ? I entreat you to tell me if 
 he has done himself aught of injury." 
 
 " If who has done himself injury ? " asked Delogne. 
 But she turned to the other. 
 
 "You, Constante, you know who I mean tell 
 me ! " 
 
 " No, madame ; no injury has been done by the 
 knife, if that is what you mean." And Raynel dared 
 move a step or two nearer her in the joy of hearing 
 her address him once-more. " The weapon has been 
 found, and we were not sure as to the owner 
 that is all." 
 
 " Oh ! " And she gave a great sigh of relief. " How 
 silly you will think me, my dear Chevalier ! But really 
 I have had many disturbing fancies of late because of 
 my half-brother s ill health, or sleeplessness, for he 
 is not ill, by his own confession, but only nervous ; 
 and to be asked so strangely about his knife well, 
 I feared some harm had come to him." 
 
 " I am disconsolate at having disturbed you." And 
 Delogne s face was full of kindly regret. " But 
 you have decided our ideas as to the ownership ; and 
 may I now conduct you back to your post of mercy ? " 
 
 She bowed and rested her fingers on his arm, 
 bequeathing to the wistful eyes of Raynel only a 
 cool little nod. But he felt sure he was no longer 
 
302 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 beyond hope. Had she not turned to him in her 
 wonder and fear? 
 
 " Now do you see the substance for that fancy of 
 mine?" demanded Delogne as he returned. 
 "You mean that this belonged to Zanalta?" 
 " More than that. The blacks who tried to kid 
 nap her were hirelings of Zanalta. He armed 
 them, or else one of them armed himself from his 
 master s store of cutlery. I felt it was so ere I put 
 it in words, just as I felt the approach of evil all 
 this day ; and it is evil to her again, and from that 
 man. Come ! I myself will guard the convent gate 
 to-night, lest some plot of his should draw her out 
 into the darkness. Will you be with me?" 
 
 " Wait ! Is that not the voice of Zanalta now in 
 the court?" whispered Constante. 
 
 A moment s listening proved it true. He was 
 asking questions impatiently of a slave at the door, 
 a slave who was so stupid as not to know when his 
 master would be in. 
 
 But even while they listened a step sounded behind 
 them, and Monsieur Lamort entered, serene and 
 calm as ever. He bowed to the two gentlemen, and 
 passed through to the reception-room, where he 
 could easily distinguish the voice of Zanalta, and 
 also a most impatient tramping as he paced the floor. 
 And at the instant Lamort disappeared through 
 the one door the slave-woman Venda appeared at 
 the other as though following him. Not the tranquil 
 Vencla of old, but a woman who breathed hard, as 
 one who has moved swiftly. Her eyes were blood 
 shot and strained ; she lifted her feet heavily, as one 
 
DENISE AND SISTER ANDREA. 303 
 
 who is old. She seemed hastening to reach her 
 master, but stopped as that other voice was heard 
 greeting him. 
 
 Then she turned her face toward the young men, 
 gazed on them in strange, troubled fashion, and 
 raised one hand as though waving them back, or 
 beseeching them not to follow. 
 
 And with only that mute sign to express her 
 prayer, she moved on toward the reception-room - 
 alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 DENISE AND SISTER ANDREA. 
 
 IN the early dusk two figures stood together at the 
 western casement of the convent, two with but 
 little of heaven s peace in their eyes. The bonds 
 of earth are strong in the flesh, and the beautiful 
 serene Sister Andrea was the most despairing of 
 the two. 
 
 She dropped on her knees sobbingly, and strove 
 to draw Denise with her, but the young girl stood 
 white and cold and would not bend. 
 
 " If it is true if they give me up to him, I will 
 never pray again," she said, with hard decision. 
 
 " Oh, my child, prayer helps women to bear their 
 burdens. You will learn as you grow older how it 
 lightens the sorrows that are sent to us. Women 
 are weak, Denise, and " 
 
304 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " I am not weak," and she stretched out her arms, 
 and clasped and unclasped her white hands. " See, 
 do they look like weak hands ? You know they do 
 not. And if they let him touch me, he will need 
 the prayers, not I. I would never pray again." 
 
 " Denise, my poor child, it is terrible to hear one 
 so young- speak like that ; it is wicked, wicked ! And 
 you poor dove, what would all your strength do 
 against that man s will ? Many a strong man has 
 been caught helpless in his traps, so what can you, 
 a mere child, do? Kneel down and pray pray 
 for this cross to be lifted aside." 
 
 "No; what use is it? Did not our mother con 
 fess that if the signature of the governor or of 
 Monsieur Lamort was set to that paper she would 
 be obliged to give me up, and that I must at least 
 be removed to-morrow, for the reputation of the 
 school, lest it be known that one who has shared 
 their advantages is after all only a slave ? " 
 
 "Oh, Denise, speak not with so much of bitterness. 
 The good mother is in great distress of mind. She 
 must do the thing she sees to be her duty to the con 
 vent. All her acts must be answerable to the 
 church ; and she knows well this man spoke wisely 
 when he said her refusal could be made to ruin 
 utterly the school she has tended with so much of 
 care. And can you not see she longs to favor you, 
 else he would have won his argument even without 
 the signature, as he evidently hoped to do. Oh, 
 Denise, grow not cruel in your heart against all 
 people just because of one man whose heart is bad." 
 
 " I could never be cruel in thought to you," and 
 
DENISE AND SISTER ANDREA. 305 
 
 the cold hand of Denise pressed the head of the 
 kneeling nun against her ; " and though I should 
 find strength to kill him, I know your lips would 
 ever utter pitiful prayers for me." 
 
 " Oh, Denise, Denise ! It must not be ! All saints 
 help us ! What shall we do ? " 
 
 The girl gazed out with somber eyes at the sky 
 where the stars shone. Each instant she listened 
 for the sound of the bell and the opening of the con 
 vent gate to the man who called himself her master. 
 
 "We can only wait until he comes, I think," 
 she said, in that cold, unchildlike way. " When I 
 begged the mother superior to let me go to the 
 house of Monsieur Lamort she said, No, there must 
 be no scandal ; we must wait for the law to judge; 
 and that monsieur would not sign it unless it was 
 right; so that leaves us nothing to do but wait. 
 And when he does come, with all the power of the 
 law, she will expect me to bow my head to my 
 master and walk out of that gate at his bidding. I ! 
 Do they not guess that I would sooner cast myself 
 from the roof to that stone paving? " 
 
 The older woman only moaned and knelt, still 
 praying beside the girl who stood as though carved 
 of stone. And thus they waited the dread tidings. 
 
 Then a hurried step approached in the corridor ; 
 not the step of a man, nor had the bell at the gate 
 sounded. It halted at the door, and without tapping 
 the abbess entered the room. 
 
 Her strong, wise face was much agitated. She 
 held a flat packet and her hands were trembling. 
 
 " Child, be in haste," she said, and reached out the 
 
 20 
 
306 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 little package. " I give my consent that you go at once 
 to the house of the good Monsieur Lamort. Take 
 with you this, and tell him I said he must read it ere 
 making decision. Its contents I know not, and no 
 time is to be lost by reading it here. Our blessed 
 Mother Agnace left it. You were but a baby when 
 I saw it last, done up just as it is now. It is of you, 
 perhaps of your parents, it tells. See, there is your 
 name The child called Denise. Ah! the saints 
 be praised that I did chance on it among those old 
 parchments ! But go go quickly. Take with you 
 old Marie of the gate." 
 
 But vSister Andrea, yet on her knees, spoke : 
 " I pray you no, good mother. If this girl is to 
 go thus for judgment, I ask that I may be the one to 
 guard her." 
 
 " You, Sister Andrea, who never go without the 
 gate? " 
 
 "It is my first request, mother, and we lose time." 
 " True. I consent, and may the blessing of God 
 go with you. Until you return I shall never cease 
 to pray that these papers may prove Senor Zanalta s 
 claim a great mistake by which he has been blinded. 
 Denise my child ! " 
 
 She raised her hands in benediction ; but Denise, 
 who had ever before bent humble knee to that 
 gesture, only bent her head to the blessing, and 
 raised it a little higher as she passed out by the 
 lady. The thing she felt was a wrong had for the 
 first time made her haughty and cold instead of 
 humble. And the mother superior smiled sadly as 
 she watched her go. 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 307 
 
 " It is vSaid that Gaston le Noyens was a proud 
 man," she mused, "and his pride will live as long- 
 as she lives if she indeed prove to be his daughter. 
 A very proud slave, Don Zanalta, and I fear me 
 some one will suffer besides Denise if she should be 
 proven the child of a slave- woman." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ONCE MORE ZIZI. 
 
 IN the house of Monsieur Lamort the master 
 stood facing Diego Zanalta and hesitating over the 
 paper before him. 
 
 " But this is so astonishing ! The convent child 
 is then the daughter of Gaston le Noyens and his 
 slave-girl Zizi? " 
 
 " Exactly. Since that time the brown woman has 
 called herself Vendn, but the change of name has 
 not changed the woman. She is your slave now, 
 but she was mine when that child was born. She 
 confessed all to-day and made her mark there. You 
 know the evil wrought in this land by white-skinned 
 slaves sharing the associations of their superiors, 
 hence my anxiety to remove her at once from 
 among these daughters of gentlemen at the convent. 
 The abbess prays it may be done to-night, though 
 she needs legal papers ere the girl is transferred to 
 me." 
 
308 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 He was trying, with what show of indifference he 
 could, to assume that it was to serve the abbess 
 more than himself that he came at so unseemly an 
 hour, but his eyes were alight with eagerness as he 
 watched Lamort. 
 
 "And my slave Venda was once Zizi of the 
 house of Le Noyens ?" remarked that gentleman, 
 dreamily. " Strange it never occurred to me. That 
 explains 
 
 " Explains what, monsieur? " 
 
 Lamort aroused himself from his reveries and 
 smiled. 
 
 "When one commences to think aloud it is a sure 
 sign that he is growing old, is it not, senor ? But I 
 was thinking that her identity with Zizi would 
 explain her strange knowledge from the very first 
 of every corner of my house, for of course she had 
 lived here." 
 
 " Yes, yes but this paper, it waits your signing." 
 And Zanalta dipped a quill in the ink-well and 
 reached it to Monsieur Lamort. 
 
 " I strangely dislike the task you bring me," he 
 confessed. " She is a fair maiden for such a curse 
 to have been her portion. Tell me, when once she 
 is in your possession would you sell her to me at your 
 own price, that I may be sure she never will meet 
 the black hands as one they dare claim ? Whatever 
 her mother s blood, she is too white a soul for the 
 life fair slaves drift into on these shores. Pardon 
 my blunt speech, senor, but I would save her for 
 higher uses and a life somewhere away from her 
 mother s race." 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 309 
 
 Zanalta smiled and nodded. 
 
 " You think about the girl as I think, monsieur ; 
 and though she is the daughter of my slave, by that 
 slave s confession, yet I remember also she is the 
 child of the one friend I had in my youth here - 
 Gaston le Noyens. My sister-in-law sails for Madrid 
 in the next ship. The girl shall go with her and 
 live her life in fair Spain. So you see I too think 
 of her welfare." 
 
 And his gaze was so open, so kindly, that 
 Victor Lamort believed him. He looked at the 
 space where his name was to be written he, one of 
 the dispensers of justice ! And his purpose wavered 
 as the thought of Maurice came to him Maurice, 
 whose heart would be broken by the knowledge of 
 that paper ; Maurice, who idolized her, whose every 
 hope was toward winning her ; and yet, an illegiti 
 mate child, and one of the slave blood, to be selected 
 as a wife for one of the Delogne family ! No, it 
 would not be wise to allow it. 
 
 " You are sensible to give so much of thought ere 
 you act for justice, monsieur," remarked Zanalta, 
 easily. " But it grows late, and I have brought you 
 that ancient plan of the lands you desired so much 
 to see. We might find time to examine it after we 
 have this other business disposed of. I heard it 
 said only to-day in a discussion of a land question 
 that no such accurate survey had ever been made of 
 Royal Grant and the surrounding estates, and I 
 was at once reminded to look it up and bring it 
 over." 
 
 He held in his hand the roll of yellow parchment, 
 
310 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 with the dull-red lettering on the outer scroll and 
 the seal of the crown showing on its gilt cord. 
 
 Lamort s eyes narrowed and shone with a differ 
 ent light. His hobby, whatever it was, suddenly 
 recurred at the sight of that legal-looking document 
 from which he could glean power. This other 
 paper before him, with the fate of a life in it with 
 the broken heart of Maurice in it what was all 
 their tinsel joys or sorrows beside the work to 
 
 which he had devoted his soul and strength the 
 
 dream of his manhood, the realization that was now 
 coming to him in his older years ? 
 
 Nothing," he decided, and himself dipped the 
 quill again in the ink and signed the paper. 
 
 Denise by those strokes of the pen was legally 
 declared a slave, and the possession of her person 
 was granted to Don Diego Zanalta. 
 
 Zanalta drew a long breath, and laid the survey of 
 the Royal Grant on the desk where the ink rested. 
 
 It had been a close battle of wits, and he had 
 won. He reached out his hand for the paper 
 Lamort had signed, but ere Zanalta s fingers touched 
 it he was dashed aside, the paper was snatched from 
 Lamort s extended hand, and the slave-woman stood 
 between them tearing the document into bits. 
 
 With a guttural cry like a mad beast Zanalta 
 sprung toward her, with the gleam of steel showing 
 in his hand ; but quick as light she avoided him 
 and sped to the other side of her master, clutching 
 his arm. 
 
 " I ask your help for one hour because of this, " 
 she said ; and drawing forth a chain from her neck 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 311 
 
 she held up a piece of coin attached to it, a gold- 
 piece with a hole in it a hole through the king s 
 head on it. " You have not forgotten," she said ; 
 but his hand only came down heavily on her 
 shoulder as she knelt ; with the other he touched 
 his sword. 
 
 " We do not knife slaves in our parlors, Don 
 Zanalta, even for so great an impertinence as this 
 has been. To me she will give account of her 
 action. Speak, Venda." 
 
 " No ! " And she glanced at Zanalta, who was 
 watching her with threatening eyes. 
 
 " Venda ! " 
 
 " No, master, not Venda." And she crouched at her 
 master s feet. " Vendiant Venda, that is name of 
 betrayal. Oh, master! just now, this once more, 
 I am Zizi again I am faithful. The false is there 
 the man who betrayed you, who would betray 
 you again, who brings you there a paper of the 
 lands that is a lie for see ! " And she moved to the 
 heavy old desk and from some receptacle at the back 
 of it brought the original paper that Zanalta had 
 sought in vain. "But that is little is nothing," 
 she said, as she laid it in her master s hand. " He 
 is most false of all when he says Mademoiselle 
 Denise is of slave blood. She never!" 
 
 Steps were heard behind them. Their exclama 
 tions had been heard even beyond the court, and 
 Madame Ninon stood there in wonder beside the 
 old priest to whom she had been reading. Constante 
 crossed to her intending to quiet any alarm she 
 might feel ; but Maurice stood in the doorway as 
 
312 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 one paralyzed at the fragment heard : " Made 
 moiselle Denise of slave blood." 
 
 " You slave, beware ! " And Zanalta took a step 
 toward the woman, by his tone forcing her to look 
 up and meet the intense significance of his gaze. 
 She felt the meaning of it, and for one instant 
 shivered. "You are mad," he went on. " Did you 
 not acknowledge that the child was taken to the 
 convent by you ? " 
 
 Just then Maurice saw two figures move hand in 
 hand through the palms. He went to meet them ; 
 one the beautiful distressed face of the nun the 
 other was Denise, who looked at him with eyes of 
 anguish. 
 
 "Yes," said Venda, reluctantly, to Zanalta s 
 question. 
 
 " So ! yours ; the child of a white father. Mine, 
 for you were my property at its birth. You see, 
 monsieur, the word of a slave " 
 
 Victor Lamort s eyes were on the face of Venda. 
 What did she mean ? Was she indeed that Zizi who 
 had been favorite in the last days of Le Noyens ? 
 And what else was she that she knew so much, and 
 dared assert her knowledge she who had known 
 all the life and loves in this house years ago ! He 
 touched her on the head. 
 
 "Whose is the child?" he asked. "Whatever 
 your blood, I can trust your word, Zizi." 
 
 " Who spoke then ? " asked Sister Andrea of Mau 
 rice ; and he smiled reassuringly in her troubled 
 eyes. 
 
 " That is Monsieur Victor Lamort," he said ; " and 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 313 
 
 you may trust safely to his justice. If you will 
 allow me, I will present those papers for his notice, 
 and you may rest here under the palms for a mo 
 ment until he comes to you ; and in God s name 
 in love s name, Denise, look not so coldly hopeless." 
 
 The girl only looked at him with all that blind 
 pain in her eyes. The mere thought that she was a 
 slave by birth ! 
 
 But the nun leaned back in the shadows of the 
 palm-leaves. 
 
 " Monsieur Victor Lamort," she whispered to her 
 self. " Victor Lamort the victor of death ! What 
 does it mean ? And Zizi ! " 
 
 The lips of Zizi were pressed on her master s hand 
 in a sort of adoration at the sound of the tender 
 Old World name uttered by him. 
 
 " To-morrow, master," and her eyes were turned 
 on Zanalta, defiantly, "when we are alone, I will 
 tell you." 
 
 " To-morrow devils ! That will be too late - 
 
 "Too late? Oh, yes," and Lamort smiled care 
 lessly ; " you had planned a little sailing trip, had you 
 not, and waiting will interfere ? Well, the weather 
 promises fair, and a day sooner or later should not 
 matter." 
 
 "What do you know of my plans?" he de 
 manded, angrily, though he was striving hard to 
 keep his temper. 
 
 " Only that the former commander of the Sea 
 Gull has sold her to me, and will be seen no more 
 on these shores," remarked the other; "and in the 
 transfer it was mentioned that the vessel had been 
 
314 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 promised you for a few weeks. It was a matter of 
 indifference then, but not quite so much so now, 
 senor. This false paper has changed much in my 
 eyes, and I am suddenly reminded that a companion 
 a lady was to go with you." His voice grew 
 more and more stern as he continued, and in the 
 wake of his own words came the realization that it 
 must have been Denise who was to go with him. 
 " I shall trouble you now, Don Zanalta, to inform me 
 who that lady is." 
 
 " It was to have been Senora Zanalta," declared 
 the Spaniard, impatiently. " But you do me injus 
 tice, monsieur; and my holiday has nothing to 
 do with to-night s business. Listen, monsieur. 
 You saw that woman s confession, which she now 
 denies. The girl is my slave, but refuses to own 
 her bond to me. She has won the poorer classes to 
 her by her charity and youth, and if there is time 
 to warn those plebeians who think her a saint, there 
 may be a rising of that mob, and perhaps the blacks 
 as well. You know what that would mean. They 
 would blindly burn the house of every aristocrat. I 
 only ask that which is legally mine. I swear she 
 has bewitched those papers of the survey. I know 
 nothing of it. You signed the claim once, mon 
 sieur ; sign another. I ask only my slave." 
 
 His feverish eagerness told against him; and 
 more, Maurice Delogne came forward at that mo 
 ment with the packet given him by Sister Andrea. 
 
 "Monsieur, this is from the good abbess at the 
 convent. You are asked by her to read the contents 
 ere deciding the claim of Senor Zanalta." 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 315 
 
 "Facts pertaining to the child called Denise," 
 Monsieur Lamort read from the enveloping scroll. 
 "Chevalier Delogne, will you do me the favor to 
 open and read us the main points contained in 
 this?" 
 
 He looked weary, and seated himself on the couch, 
 leaving Venda kneeling there alone in the middle 
 of the floor. He had not yet turned his head to see 
 who it was had entered the room of the palms as 
 messenger. 
 
 Senor Zanalta picked up his hat, with a fine air of 
 indifference. " I see some plot has been set afoot 
 since my visit to the convent," he said, meaningly ; 
 " for less than an hour ago the abbess pretended to 
 no knowledge of such a document. I will leave 
 you, monsieur, to the perusal of these forgeries." 
 
 " I think you will find this genuine enough," 
 declared Delogne ; "it is in the main a letter 
 from the mother of the child. She writes to the 
 abbess on the last days she expects to live. She 
 confesses herself utterly friendless but for a slave- 
 girl, Zizi, who may be taken from her any hour by 
 her relatives, who consider she has disgraced them. 
 She has no means of proving her marriage, but de 
 clares that she is a wife. And here is a note signed 
 by Mother Agnace, saying, This letter is from 
 the mother of the child Denise, whom she in this 
 testament wishes to be reared in the convent, and 
 later take the veil, as her life in the world, a 
 woman child and nameless, would be one of sorrow 
 and of shame. 
 
 The pale, beautiful nun had involuntarily arisen, 
 
316 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 with a low cry, as those lines were quoted. Denise 
 caught her hand, and found her trembling so she 
 could scarcely stand. 
 
 "Oh, continue continue!" she muttered. Her 
 agitation was much greater than that of Denise. 
 
 " More," went on Delogne. " The abbess of that 
 day, Mother Agnace, affirms that she knew the 
 writer of this letter from her childhood, and firmly 
 believes in the statement that she was at some time 
 married, though circumstances were such that she 
 was forced to live and die under the name of Made 
 moiselle Felice Henriette St. Malo." 
 
 "Master!" cried the slave-woman, warningly, 
 but too late. 
 
 He arose, looking at them with a deathlike face. 
 
 " Felice my wife ! Our child, then our own 
 child, that I signed away for this hunger of venge 
 ance. Oh, my God ! " 
 
 They thought him mad. Denise arose and stood 
 beside the nun. 
 
 " What does it mean ? " she asked. " Oh, tell me, 
 some one ! I am not a slave, then I am not a 
 slave? " 
 
 But Delogne, looking from the strange face of 
 Venda to that of her master, doubted his madness. 
 He remembered too well a story told him by 
 Lamort that story of the exile. 
 
 " Your child ? Be careful what you say, for there 
 are listeners. Your child, Monsieur Lamort? " 
 
 " Not that name," he said, shaking his head ; " the 
 quest I borrowed it for is dead from this hour. The 
 vengeance I have followed for years has turned a 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 317 
 
 weapon against my own heart. Zizi, you were faith 
 ful. Bring tc me my daughter ; bring to me also the 
 priest from the country of the red men. He knows 
 if Felice St. Malo was a wife or not. He must tell 
 these people, every one must know, and then my 
 child and I will sail far out to lands like paradise. 
 Oh, my child, my child ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " a field of unrivaled expanse spread 
 before Zanalta as he realized who Lamort must be 
 to have been married to Felice St. Malo " monsieur, 
 if I am on the right track at last, you and I were 
 rivals once, and you have played me some ghostly 
 pranks since. All at once a veil has dropped from 
 my eyes, and I see I was blind never to suspect 
 until now, for your voice was often a puzzle to me ; 
 but we can not afford to be enemies, you and I, and 
 if Denise is your daughter I present myself as a 
 suitor." 
 
 Monsieur Lamort seemed not to hear. Delogne 
 touched his shoulder, and when he turned Denise 
 was standing beside him with her hands held out 
 and all her face aglow. 
 
 He dropped his head on her shoulder with a sob. 
 He had withstood all the cruel blows of years and 
 made no outcry, but at the sweet lingering of his 
 child s hands about his face his heart seemed to 
 break. 
 
 " And you forgive me ! Oh, child ! I never 
 dreamed there was aught in this world left to me 
 but to harden my heart and crush the people who 
 had hurt your adored mother and me. It is over 
 now. We will go away from here you and I and 
 
318 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 faithful Zizi. I am bewildered with my joy. Speak 
 to me, Denise ; tell me you are glad." 
 
 " I would not know how to find words enough," 
 she said, with smiles and hands caressing him. " I 
 have scarce heard how it is that you have announced 
 yourself my father, but I accept it without question, 
 and am happy." 
 
 Then she held out her hand to Delogne. " It was 
 you who said to me, Your father wants you, and you 
 will always be my friend because of those words." 
 
 Lamort smiled into Delogne s eyes. " Is that not 
 better than a plantation ?" he asked ; "but perhaps 
 the plantation will come to you too but not that 
 one," and he nodded to the survey of the Royal 
 Grant. " I am done warring. Take back your 
 scrolls, Diego Zanalta. It was your land I would have 
 stripped you of by that survey ; but it is all over. I 
 have found Denise ; and you, Maurice, shall not be 
 the loser. Come now, my child ; we will see good 
 Father Luis and let you learn how I came to be 
 your father." 
 
 The slave-woman had but entered the room of 
 palms on her errand to the aged priest when she 
 saw him in a group gathered about the form of 
 Sister Andrea, who had suddenly swooned. Madame 
 Ninon held her head on her knees, while the priest 
 fanned her and whispered prayers over the form 
 that looked so lifeless. Monsieur Raynel had been 
 dispatched for water. 
 
 " May I help?" asked the slave. " Pardon, little 
 madame, but all that cloth is too much about her 
 face and throat if you could loosen it 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 319 
 
 But Ninon drew back. It seemed to her a sac 
 rilege to disturb the garb of a devotee. 
 
 Venda herself pushed back the bands from about 
 the face, and as she did so the light for the first 
 time fell clearly across the closed eyes, and with a 
 loud cry the slave fell on her knees. 
 
 " Oh-a-mc ! oh-a-me ! little mistress ! my little 
 mistress ! " She rocked herself in a very ecstasy of 
 excitement. " Oh, master Master Basil ! May your 
 God strike Zizi dead if she knew. They at the con 
 vent said child died, and I took the word back to little 
 mistress, and she went crazy. Oh, master ! that not 
 fault of Zizi. Then Mistress Marie Solle sent me back 
 to town house, for reason that I love little Mistress 
 Felice too well. Then by and by word come that 
 my Mistress Felice dead and buried way out there 
 on the plantation. Oam-tne ! that make my heart 
 ache! Nothing left for Zizi to love then, and Zizi 
 seem to die, and the white wool come on her head. 
 No one was left alive and kind but you, my master, 
 far away away from Zizi, where she never can 
 kneel to you ; and each time she think of you in 
 all the years, the wool get more and more white, 
 like when the old, old years come on heads. And 
 all the time I never was told little mistress was alive 
 in the world." 
 
 She was groveling at the feet of Monsieur Lamort 
 while she uttered all the passionate disjointed sen 
 tences. All looked at her in affright, for they could 
 see no cause for her cries. She was between her 
 master and the figure on the floor, and he could not 
 see the face of the woman there, only the garb of 
 a nun. 
 
V 
 
 320 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Be silent," he said, and dropped his hand on her 
 shoulder. " You shall tell me some other time how it 
 was you took my daughter to the convent gate. You 
 have served me well. I will not forget." 
 
 She drew aside at his bidding, and sat there 
 crouched against the wall, watching him with a 
 strange yearning in her eyes. 
 
 u Zizi has served you well, has she ? " she muttered 
 to herself. " Zizi served you well oh, my master ! " 
 
 Lamort released Denise when she perceived Sister 
 Andrea there on the cushions, and she was watching 
 anxiously for the bits of color coming back to the 
 lips. 
 
 " Dear Sister Andrea," she said, with great tender 
 ness, as the eyes of the nun opened and gazed at 
 her dreamily, as if scarce awake, " you have made 
 yourself ill over my sorrows and joys ; but the joys 
 are so sweet now, you need only rejoice with me." 
 
 " Yes," said the nun, with her eyes still on the 
 happy face of the girl. " Do not mention his name, 
 but only kiss me for him." 
 
 " She is not yet conscious of where she is," whis 
 pered Denise to the priest; but he, with a long look 
 at the two, arose tremblingly, a frail, weather-beaten 
 old man, but with the light of a strong soul shining 
 through his eyes. 
 
 He walked over to Lamort, who had just ceased 
 speech to Zizi, and who reached his hand eagerly to 
 the priest. 
 
 " Pardon me, father, if I have scarce heeded your 
 presence or that of the nun who was companion to 
 my child ; but you, to whom all my life is known, 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 321 
 
 will understand what finding my child the child 
 of Felice means to me. In truth, I feel like 
 one in a dream. And I was just about to visit 
 you, that you might tell our daughter how it 
 chanced we were wed in secret, and how 
 
 "Yes yes, we will tell her in good time," 
 assented Father Luis ; " but just now there is one 
 other thing of which I would speak, my son. Your 
 wedding was secret in that year long past ; but the 
 man who was you long ago is legally dead by the 
 records, so you tell me. Why, if Felice yet lived, 
 could you not claim her now, with all your world for 
 witness?" 
 
 " Why ? Father, do you know how a man can 
 suffer if asked that question when the object of his 
 love has passed up above life s claims? To claim 
 her before the world ! Yes, if she yet lived yes, a 
 thousand times. Oh, you know you know ! Why 
 do you speak like this to-night?" And he dropped 
 his head on the high-carved cabinet, hiding his face 
 as though to conceal tears. 
 
 " Come ! " said the priest, and took his hand as 
 though leading a child ; with a gesture he waved 
 back Madame Ninon and the two young gentlemen 
 from the couch where the nun lay. " Sit you still, 
 my child," he said to Denise ; " they may want you 
 as a witness this time." 
 
 " They ? " Lamort had walked where he was led, 
 not seeing, because of bitter, longing tears that 
 could not be cleared from his eyes in an instant ; 
 then he was conscious that Denise was kneeling 
 
 beside the couch. 
 21 
 
322 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 And on the couch ! 
 
 He stepped back, with a cry akin to horror, it was 
 so piercing, and stared at the face there as though 
 frozen and mute. 
 
 And then the sweet-faced nun reached out her 
 hand. 
 
 " Basil," she whispered, " I am not dead, though I 
 thought all else was dead for me." 
 
 Silently he gathered her in his arms, great tears 
 falling on her face as he kissed her ; but he spoke 
 no word, and she seemed to expect none ; they were 
 together with content. 
 
 "It is your mother," said the priest to the won 
 dering Denise ; and the woman she had called " sis 
 ter " reached a hand to her. 
 
 " Could we have loved each other better had we 
 known? "she asked; and the fond kiss of Denise 
 said " no." 
 
 And over against the wall still sat the slave- 
 woman, rocking, and watching like a figure of fate 
 first Lamort and then Zanalta, waiting for some 
 thing she felt was coming. 
 
 And the eyes of Zanalta saw that embrace, and 
 he heard again " Basil "-and " Basil " whispered in 
 utter fondness. 
 
 " Who is it what does it all mean?" asked Ma 
 dame Ninon, in half-fear of the wild emotions surg 
 ing around her. She was clinging to the arm of 
 Constante, in all forgetfulness of her late pique. 
 
 The priest heard her question, and spoke from the 
 head of the couch where he stood with hands 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 323 
 
 stretched out over the group there as though in 
 blessing a great joy shining in his aged eyes : 
 
 " Eighteen years ago the hands of this man and 
 this woman were joined by me in marriage. They 
 were but a youth and maiden then, and each dear 
 to my heart. We have drifted wide apart since 
 those days, and whispers arose against her fair 
 fame in this town of Orleans. But here, with their 
 child as witness, I, Brother Luis, declare that Felice 
 St. Malo was made the honest wife of this man. 
 Let no breath of shame ever again touch the air 
 about her." 
 
 But Zanalta, followed by the watchful eyes of the 
 black woman, stepped nearer the man known so 
 long as Victor Lamort, and touched him on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Monsieur Basil de Bayarde, you do not reply. I 
 make offer of my hand and name for your daughter." 
 
 " My daughter shall make her own choice of a 
 husband," said the other without raising his head. 
 
 " Have you forgotten that you may yet need a 
 friend on this island of Orleans ? Where will you 
 find so able a one as myself to fight the things you 
 must fight when word gets abroad that you are 
 here ? Come, we need each other you and I ; 
 what bond so strong as your daughter? " 
 
 But the other waved him away by a gesture of 
 disdain, and Madame Villette laid a persuasive hand 
 on the arm of Zanalta. 
 
 " Come, Diego, it is best for you to be in your own 
 house, is it not ? From what I have heard here you 
 do not seem to play a pretty part in the affairs of 
 
324 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 our neighbors ; and as you wished but to-day that I 
 make purchase of your estate here and leave you 
 free to roam for a season, I think it well now to give 
 assent to your wish ; and I fancy also that the 
 farther you sail the happier will be those who do 
 not sail with you." 
 
 But he broke loose from her fingers, with an oath. 
 
 "I do not sail until I have stripped that galley- 
 slave of a part of his wealth," he declared, with a 
 cruel laugh. " Wife, daughter, and landed estates, 
 eh ? Well, my man, I will put you back in your 
 chains again or die trying ; for you are Basil de 
 Bayarde, an outlaw, whose life is forfeit to the 
 crown. You are the man who in these gardens did 
 eighteen years ago murder Gaston le Noyens." 
 
 "No!" 
 
 In his fury he had forgotten the slave-woman 
 coiled there like a crouching animal, and so strange 
 a light in her eyes as she arose to her feet. 
 
 " He did not," she said, in a strange level tone. 
 All the color and excitement was gone from it now; 
 but as Zanalta made a step to her she smiled quietly 
 and showed in her hand the slim, wicked-looking 
 dagger Madame Ninon had identified but awhile 
 before. " You will keep away, Master Diego, until 
 I speak I, Venda, once called Zizi in this house 
 long ago. That man," and she pointed to her master, 
 " has felt pain enough in his heart no more. For 
 years he has ached under a load a coward woman let 
 him bear because the blackness of death made her 
 afraid, and she loved to live in the warm sunshine. 
 But I will tell you, old master, whom the people 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 325 
 
 call Father Luis open your ears and hear, for you 
 are the church witness. To the land where my peo 
 ple ruled came one of your race when I was a girl, 
 young as that," and she pointed to Denise. " Slaves 
 were bought from us and decoyed to the decks of 
 their boat, but one went bound only by the love of 
 her lover. She was not of the slave caste. She trusted 
 when he said that on his shores she should rule as on 
 her own. She dreamed the dreams he taught her, for 
 she was a child not more. On his own shores he 
 was called Le Noyens, and he was false. He placed 
 her like the slaves in his house, and when she was 
 hurt in her pride and cried out against it, then what 
 did he? The arms he had caressed were bound 
 with chains. The shoulder he had kissed was 
 burned deep with an iron, as they brand slaves for 
 evil deeds you see ? " And she bared her shoulder 
 that they might see the cruel stamp of the fleur-de- 
 lis. " It was burned so with that sign of a king who 
 lived across the water, and she took her vengeance 
 when it came to her, and he died from a knife in her 
 hand. That man, Diego Zanalta, saw it. He has 
 known the truth all these years the years when I 
 was a coward. That is over. Oh, my master, my 
 master ! I can see you suffer no more. You shall 
 never more stand before the judges. Nor will Zizi 
 ever wear their chains again, though I confess. I 
 ask you all to hear. I killed Gaston le Noyens so ! 
 - in pay for the gift he he gave me for this 
 flower of France." 
 
 The slender dagger was driven to the ivory 
 handle in her own bosom ere any of them guessed 
 
326 A FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 her design; and her eyes devoted, appealing 
 turned to the man who had borne her guilt, but for 
 whom she now was dying. 
 
 " Zizi ! Zizi ! our poor Zizi ! " he moaned, and 
 raised her head, while Felice sped to her side, weep 
 ing and caressing her brown hands. 
 
 The dying slave gazed at her mistress and at 
 Denise. " Good-by, little white one," she said, and 
 then rested her white-crowned head fondly against 
 the arm of Basil de Bayarde and looked up at him 
 with all the unspeakable devotion that had oppressed 
 and ennobled her. 
 
 "My master!" she whispered, and then all was 
 still ; and Basil de Bayarde raised in his arms a 
 dead woman a dead woman who had at last lifted 
 the cloud from his life and the lives of his loved 
 ones. 
 
 And in all the sunshine and honor of the years 
 that followed he never forgot her. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 Is it needful to say that Ninon recovered from 
 her pique and shared her whims and her poverty 
 with Constante for many a year ? She also succeeded 
 in persuading Diego that departure from Louisiana 
 was the one bit of wisdom left to him, and he, 
 together with Senora Mercedes Sofie Zanalta, took 
 ship together for Spain. 
 
 Denise did indeed sail in the Sea Gull, much as 
 Don Zanalta had arranged, except that he was not 
 of the party. But Ninon was there with her fiance, 
 and Chevalier Delogne was ever within whispering 
 
ONCE MORE ZIZI. 327 
 
 distance, and even Father Luis was with them in 
 their holidays ; while those two older hearts, sepa 
 rated long ago by a tragedy, and beside a tragedy 
 united, paced the deck of their pleasure-ship many 
 a starlight night, and took up again the thread of 
 their love-story a love never forgotten by the nun 
 Sister Andrea or the exiled ranger De Bayarde. 
 
 And over the water would sound sometimes the 
 tones of a violin, and the young people would listen 
 in wonder to the wild sweet notes flung out over the 
 sea, and would slip away in a group to whisper of 
 the eerie spell it wove around them. They could 
 seldom laugh or dance when Monsieur De Bayarde 
 played thus in the dark. It was the only remnant of 
 expression he retained of those long years of sorrow. 
 But Felice understood, and her gentle caressing 
 hands would lead him away from the dark thoughts 
 of the past ; though she never heard of that 
 other wild musician and gamester who had once 
 walked the same deck, for though the sailors of the 
 vessel were the same men, they were faithful, and 
 cared little by what title it pleased their captain to 
 be known. 
 
 So Rochelle was heard of no more, and only to 
 Zizi s love had his secret been known Zizi, who lay 
 in the tomb with that pierced coin on her breast, 
 and above her a marble put there by Basil and his 
 wife Felice. 
 
 And on it was cut the name " Zizi," and below 
 that the sculptured graceful lines of the fleur-de-lis. 
 
 THE END. 
 
MARAH ELLIS RYAN 
 
 Issued in the Rialto Series. 50 Cents Each. 
 
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 SQUAW ELOUISE. 
 
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 The word-painting is superb. Lowell Times. 
 
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 IN LOVE S DOMAINS. 
 
 A TRILOGY. 
 
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 There are imagination and poetical expression in the stories, and readers 
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 MERZE; THE STORY OF AN ACTRESS. 
 
 BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED. 
 
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