Legends of Louisiana 
 
 life Romance f 
 the Royal Oak 
 
 Brother if the Sultan 
 
 HELEN PITKIN SCHERTZ 
 
 Published br 
 The New Orleans Journal 
 New Orleans, La., U. S. A.
 
 Copywright, 1922 
 
 T 
 New Orleans Journal
 
 Acknowledgments are made in the recital of this "Romance 
 of the Royal Oak" to Heinrich Zschokke for his 'The Princess of 
 Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel;" "Too Strange Not To Be True," by 
 Lady Georgiana Fullerton; M. Bossu, for his "Nouveaux Voyages 
 dans L'Amerique Septentrionale;" "My Beloved South," by Mrs. 
 T. P. O'Connor: "Peter the Great," (Makers of History), by 
 Jacob Abbott ; History of Louisiana, (Vol. 1 ) , Charles Gayarre ; 
 Papers of Duclos, and traditional sources. 
 
 203612*7
 
 Romance gf the Royal Oak 
 
 A* 4* <*# 4* 4* 
 
 i. 
 
 choicest of the legends of Louisiana is that concerning 
 Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Brunswick and your 
 concurrence in this opinion is awaited when you will have 
 unfolded its sentimental episodes. 
 One must regress into an earlier, more romantic, epoch to credit 
 this love-story, for today few are given the understanding of the 
 sacred arts, and rare indeed are the souls willing to suffer immo- 
 lation and the purification by that white fire which prepares one 
 fitly to receive true passion. Our hearts are set to the horologe of 
 haste a tempo which Love flies in dismay. This is a century of 
 tempest and defence and the recoil of the buffeted is to frivolity 
 and a desperate carelessness rather than the repose of awesome 
 Love. Our contacts are electrical rather than magnetic. Our 
 touch is a grasp rather than the medium of a thrill. Therefore Love 
 languishes and it may be will cease altogether. Instinct is not Love, 
 so the world will go on and there will be posterity which will throb 
 to cold ambition. Come to the hearth, then, and let us rake the em- 
 bers, for this thought is chilling. Presently we will be warmed by 
 another fire, out of the cycles where dead Romance wakens at our 
 call as if we might control the clarion of Domesday itself! 
 
 New Orleans children rather let us be explicit, Creole 
 children have been told for just a shaving off two hundred years, 
 the tale of the live-oak on Bayou St. John, that slumbrous estuary 
 whose ancient source was the overflow of the Mississippi. It is in 
 indign company, amid the refuse of timber-remnants which may not 
 even be used for patching in a shabby little ship-yard where keels 
 of small craft are scraped of barnacles and decks renewed. It is
 
 vibrated throughout the day by the tick-tack of hammers and at 
 night when all is quiet, by the occasional appulse of a street-car as it 
 attacks the Esplanade bridge. 
 
 Storms and ages have had their way with the brittle tree which 
 once ramified umbrageous branches into the semi-tropic air, and 
 hardened its anchors into the Bayou bank. The quiet waters have 
 trespassed upon it and logged the roots; hurricanes have broken its 
 limbs, discouraging to its spent spirit. Today there is only a massive 
 bole and spurts of green above, in proof of everlasting constancy to a 
 memory. The Creole children have fairly forgotten the story told 
 by the withered lips of their brown nurses. "Once a beautiful Rus- 
 sian princess crossed the seas to meet her lover under this tree" and 
 for deponent; "Ah, but, yes, it is true, because Tante Aspasie 
 told me." It is a triumph for the moribund Love in this world that a 
 great passion should be the salient of an history preterit but not 
 wholly obsolete. Should you desire verification, seek in these pages, 
 from the first revelation to the writer to the authorities to whom she 
 owes much. The Chevalier d'Arensbourg, a Swedish veteran of 
 the Battle of Pultowa under Charles XII, came to Louisiana in 
 command of many German colonists who settled the land still call- 
 ed the Cote des Allemands ; he was not unfamiliar with Courts and 
 he had a gallant eye for nice discernments. He is on record as 
 suspecting a fair lady who spoke German fluently as well as 
 French, and who had come almost at the beginning of the coloni- 
 zation of New Orleans, to be of royal birth, a belief which as- 
 sociation strengthened despite her insulation from the city's move- 
 ments and absolute service to the lowly. 
 
 On a day I haunted the tombs in one of the old St. Louis 
 cemeteries where lie the doughty youth of France and Spain who 
 bore pioneer hardships to the glory of Louis Quatorze of France. 
 Amid the cenotaphs a marble slab close to the ground of a wall- 
 vault challenged the sight because of the alien tongue which marked 
 the passing of some forgotten soul. "//ier ruht in Frieden" were 
 the words deciphered in a maze of rambling coco-grass where "Ici 
 Repose" and "Ci-Git" were usual. I dropped to my knees and 
 tore out the wild grass which had reached into the interstices of the 
 little tomb. The discolored marble was the corner-stone upon 
 which the remainder of this story is constructed. And not to fatigue 
 
 10
 
 you with the methods of research involved, we will go hence to the 
 duchy of Brunswick, the quiet theatre set for great and romantic 
 action with history and legend clinkered evenly, and show by what 
 miraculous manner our tale returns to Louisiana. 
 
 Lewis Rodolphus, Duke of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel married 
 Christina Louisa, Princess of Ottingen who bore him a trinity of fair 
 daughters; Elizabeth Wilhelmina who became the wife of Charles 
 the Sixth, Emperor of Germany, whose girlhood buoyancy froze into 
 habits of precision and etiquette: Antonella Amelia, who became 
 the wife of Ferdinand Albert, Duke of Brunswick-Bevern who 
 must have accepted her portion blottesquely as little is reported of 
 her by which token we may deduce that, being without record, she 
 was the happiest of wives! So have the philosophers long recon- 
 ciled women to their workaday oblivion in service. 
 
 But the third daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Brunswick 
 was too vivid to be born and forgotten ; one so fair as she must pay 
 her toll to pain and exact great love from the heart of man. 
 
 Whatever despotism the Duke may have shown toward his 
 liegemen he was subject absolute to his daughter Charlotte. She 
 was suzerain in his delight, he sealed to her thrall by a lien of sym- 
 pathy and pride. She had reached the stature of a man and her train- 
 ing and natural grace gave her the bearing one dreams of as for 
 queens. She enjoyed homely tasks with her hands and was permitted 
 them by her sensible parents for the traditions of her House were not 
 opposed to such employment for its princesses. She rode daily in her 
 father's company and glowed with the tints of health. The Duke 
 gloried in her tiara of gold filaments braided and curled above a 
 faultless brow. Her whiteness was lunar and there was that evan- 
 escent quality in her expression which is seen now and then in the 
 face of a sincere genius the eyes set under straight brown brows 
 were at times haunted by prescience of great events and again were 
 calm blue pools inviting repose in their reedy borders. Often there 
 was the languor of reverie in those eyes' depths for Charlotte, being 
 woman-grown, yearned for her lover, aspiring to no lower mission 
 than wife-hood, preparing herself for the advent of her mate. Her 
 heart was clean-swept daily, her confessor being her conscience and 
 she! lived as uneventfully as one may at a Court, her own dignity 
 and innocence, her father's jealous pride, her mother's anxious so-
 
 licitude, furnishing redoubt to her serenity. She magnetized at ap- 
 proach, not alone through the allures of featural beauty but through 
 a sympathy and sweetness that combined into the very spirit of ma- 
 ternity. As a very young girl she manifested this charm so that men 
 turned aside fearful of betraying their emotion towards her and in 
 their souls paid her tribute as to an angel. Charlotte Christina 
 Sophia relished the health of a Diane de Poitiers and went far 
 beyond court observances in the exercise of her outdoor tastes. In 
 the evening she sang charmingly for her parents and friends or play- 
 ed the harp, or both at once, when the Duke her father would fill 
 his pride with her perfection and ofttimes catch the sob in his throat 
 lest God see her readiness for translation and thus bereave him. 
 Everyone in the little duchy adored her for she made no distinctions, 
 speaking to the lowliest of her father's subjects, visiting them in 
 their sorrows and unconsciously riveting their loyalty to the reigning 
 House. 
 
 It was late afternoon and the royal family lingered on the 
 marble portico of the palace, enjoying the play of light upon the 
 park below. The Duke was the only member of the intimate house- 
 hold who was absent but Christina Louisa sat at her embroidery 
 frame by way of pretense, in earnest espying upon the occasional 
 off-guard admiration of the stranger. For Charlotte, source of 
 parental joy and concern, was posing against a marble column in 
 her riding-dress rather too frankly gazing at the handsome artist 
 who was essaying to limn her loveliness. The artist was in military 
 accoutrements but his hand was as sure as if brush and palette were 
 sword and shield. 
 
 The Chevalier Henri d'Aubant, a native of Brittany, a free- 
 lance of fortune and a dweller in many lands, had for several days 
 asked the hospitality of the duchy, as military attache to the French 
 Embassy at Vienna. Tall, imperial in bearing, constructed with 
 the resilience of an athlete of divers endeavors, d'Aubant was 
 twenty-nine years of age when he appeared at the Palace of Wolf- 
 enbiittel. One had only to glance at him to see revealed his pas- 
 sionate temperament and his courage, combined with a restlessness 
 for action. The instinct of the mother was startled by these at- 
 tributes, nor was her uneasiness abated by the form and noble 
 
 12
 
 features of her guest. Her gaze moved over the rim of her frame 
 and rose upward to Charlotte who was at that moment blushing 
 at the contact of the Chevalier's amorous appraisal. The mother 
 coughed. Charlotte moved quickly to her side, breaking the pose 
 and the artist's dangerous revelation. "Is the dear mother chill?" 
 asked the girl solicitously. 
 
 "Ah, fortunately your father comes," answered the Duchess 
 who was a frank soul and dreaded the acting of a lie. The 
 Chevalier was a responsibility which she could not share alone and 
 she was not worldly enough despite her Court training, to cope with 
 entanglements so closely affecting her heart. D'Aubant as a 
 State guest in the Ambassadorial service was in passage from Italy 
 on a secret mission; he must be accorded every honor save the 
 too-stimulating companionship of Charlotte. All rose as the 
 Duke entered. He paused, glancing not even at his youngest-born 
 who was ever his eyes' oasis. The Duchess moved toward him with 
 heedfulness, knowing there was unpleasantness in the air. 
 
 "Alexis of Russia is here," he announced shortly. "It is a 
 shock. He has been sent on this journey to elevate his thoughts 
 above his crimes. I would that he had detoured Brunswick in his 
 wanderings." Omens flew through his brain like evil bats and con- 
 templation of his fairest daughter only heightened his anxiety. 
 D'Aubant acknowledged the growing chill and throwing a protect- 
 ing glance upon the young woman, shuddered off his new dread. 
 
 "You knew nothing of his coming?" asked the Duchess. 
 
 "Unannounced, he has simply appeared a few leagues from 
 Brunswick. It is his way, I am told. What may one expect of 
 him? He is of evil repute, cruel and stupid. Peter" has little faith 
 in the reform of his heir-apparent who is but twenty though a wizard 
 in sinful arts. I would that he had continued his journey without 
 neighborly courtesies," sighed the Duke. 
 
 Fatefully a new day dawned, bringing the most evil of men 
 with his iniquitous adherents, to the Court of Brunswick. The day, 
 May 16th, was designed for a celebration of Charlotte's sixteenth 
 anniversary and flags fluttered gayly on all public buildings and 
 flowers garlanded many windows. The girl rose with the joy of 
 
 13
 
 her health and the certainty of a good man's love making resurgam 
 in her heart, forgetful of the impending visit. Indeed, she was 
 beyond the city on her fleet horse before the remembrance of Alexis 
 was brought to her in a moment not covered by the sharp eyes of her 
 lady-in-waiting. D'Aubant rode close with a branch of blossoms 
 he had culled in galloping after her for Charlotte covered space 
 quickly and used only mettled mounts. "There will be no more sit- 
 tings for a few days, I fear/' said the Chevalier gravely. "This 
 visit is impeding is it understood how long the Czarewitz is to 
 remain in Brunswick?" Charlotte was happy and happier for 
 his approach. "He is only en passage, is he not? Why is every- 
 one so serious about it? We will give him enough food to appease 
 him so that he will not eat us up. One has heard of his father's 
 mighty appetite, perhaps the son's is as insatiable. Father was told 
 that a breakfast and dinner served the Czar and his staff of twenty 
 at Godalming on his return from a visit to Portsmouth, sacrificed 
 an entire lamb, one and a half sheep, twelve chickens, ten capons, 
 seven dozens of eggs, a mighty salad, five ribs of beef, a shoulder 
 and loin of veal, eight pullets, eight rabbits, three quarts of brandy, 
 two dozen and a half of sack, six quarts of mulled wine and a dozen 
 claret. We teach our children in Brunswick to avoid the cardinal 
 sin of gluttony in relating these items, which disgust our conservative 
 people. No other blacksmith would so incontinently indulge him- 
 self," laughed the happy girl. 
 
 "No other blacksmith?" inquired D'Aubant apprehensive of 
 laxity to majesty which was inborn in his royalist soul. 
 
 "But yes," answered Charlotte. "It was in the forges of 
 Miiller at Istria that Peter employed himself in learning the black- 
 Smith's trade, succeeding so well that he once forged eighteen 
 pounds of iron, putting his own mark on each bar. Let us see if we 
 cannot convince Alexis to enter a smithy to wear out his uncontroll- 
 ed energies. He is ungainly, I hear, so he should have no place in 
 Court or boudoir with his Muscovite manners!" The Chevalier 
 dared remain no longer at the girl's side, so he fell behind and filled 
 his eyes and heart freely with the grace of her torso and the dignity 
 with which she sat her mount. He was disturbed and wretched yet 
 the love in his soul was as the hope which gives reason for living. 
 
 14
 
 Early as was the hour of the return of Charlotte's cavalcade, 
 the palace was astir with new life, for Alexis, heir-apparent to the 
 throne of Russia was already paying his State visit and accepting 
 the initial hospitalities of the duchy. A casual visitor would presume 
 the Duke of Brunswick to be the guest and Alexis the host, for the 
 Russians had overrun the palace and were commanding and taking 
 possession of the rooms as if they were veritably their own. Alexis 
 stood upon the marble portico as Charlotte dismounted and he 
 sprang like a leopard to her assistance. She leaped clear of her 
 pommel and stood gazing at him resentfully, not knowing him but 
 repelled by that prescience which colors the progress of destiny. 
 D'Aubant who had been ready at hand, held the girl and Alexis 
 intermittently in his eye and saw Charlotte suddenly grow from a 
 happy girl into a sad woman in that instant. She stiffened and 
 overlooked the proffered hand as if she already knew portent of its 
 meaning. She was wearing, as usual, the uniform of the Black 
 Hussars with the emblem of the bones and skull on her chacot but 
 not before had d'Aubant chilled at these meanings. Her color was 
 high from exercise, and her eyes glittered with the repulsion she 
 felt for the man before her. She passed him and went to her father 
 standing above, witness of the heavy moment. 
 
 Alexis grunted and followed. "Is this your daughter?" he 
 asked, as if he had been addressing a swineherd. 
 
 "Your Highness, this is Charlotte", muttered the Duke, whose 
 dignity had been offended and from whom the trappings of royalty 
 seemed to have fallen. He felt vanquished and old in this bold 
 young presence. 
 
 "I will marry her," announced the heir-apparent curtly. 
 
 The Duke gripped Charlotte's hand tensely. "You do us 
 much honor, Your Highness," he replied, "but we have other plans 
 
 for our daughter. We we have designed her for the 
 
 Church, which your majesty will admit has rights pre-eminent over 
 your Highness' desires. However, we are most honored, and wish 
 it might be otherwise." 
 
 Alexis shrugged and smiled as if he did not quite understand 
 and turned, leading the way to the banquet-room where he scented 
 
 15
 
 rich foods prepared in honor of the birthday feast. He applied him- 
 self to the repast, the paling Charlotte having been placed almost 
 beyond the sound of his raucous voice. Alexis ate heartily and 
 drank deeply, commending the viands that were especially to his 
 taste and berating the cook for daring to concoct certain others 
 which were not to his liking. Now and then a lascivious gaze went 
 over the high-massed platters to the present object of his desire. 
 Then he would grunt and mutter and attack a fresh goblet of 
 brandy. 
 
 Charlotte remained in her own rooms in the afternoon, the sit- 
 ting she had promised D'Aubant cancelled by silence. He would 
 not have had it otherwise, but would from choice have been the 
 warden of her gaol, never to see her if the step of impious interlopers 
 might be stayed. There was planned a ball for the night, after the 
 dinner, and for this she must prepare herself less in glowing raiment 
 than in panoply of coldness and a disaffection for all worldliness, to 
 stay the onslaught of Alexis. It was with a dull interest and a 
 growing fear that the girl put herself under the ministrations of her 
 attendants, and rather was she displeased at the result, for her 
 mirror proclaimed her comeliness and gave the lie to her renuncia- 
 tion of the pomps of State. 
 
 Alexis advanced to meet the wonderful young creature when 
 she entered the ball-room. His manners had moderated somewhat, 
 and he made tenders of grace which sat on him as illy as his boor- 
 ishness. Charlotte could not disguise her repugnance to his touch 
 and danced with him only when under the insistent eye of her father. 
 With D'Aubant she waltzed many times, and in his respectful 
 embrace she was almost happy again, though her breeding had 
 taught her not to betray her real emotions toward any man. 
 
 Beneath her window on the following morning messengers 
 galloped out of the palace grounds with the clang of hoofs and at a 
 speed unknown to any rider in peaceful Brunswick. Charlotte 
 had not meant to descend until the departure of the hated visitor but 
 her father's summons urged her to ever-ready obedience. She 
 found Alexis and the Duke together in the library, both with the 
 excited manner of those who have argued long on matters of im- 
 port. Looking from one to the other, their conversation was re- 
 
 16
 
 vealed to her and she would have retreated if her father had not 
 lifted his hand in warning. 
 
 "His Highness has repeated his honorable offer for your 
 hand," quoth the Duke, "and it will be well for us to take it under 
 immediate advisement. Your mother will be here presently." 
 
 Charlotte stood tall and golden before the men who were thus 
 volleying her fate between them. Then she steadied her voice. 
 
 "Have I been your dutiful daughter ever?" she asked the 
 Duke. 
 
 "My daughter has been docile and obedient since her birth," 
 he answered with emotion. 
 
 "Then my father the Duke must record my first revolt," she 
 said. 
 
 "For the sake of your country " 
 
 "My country loves me and makes no such demand," inter- 
 rupted the girl. 
 
 "Then for my sake, Charlottechen." 
 
 "It is for your good that I should bring grief to your heart and 
 tears to scorch your eyes? Is it filial to bow your shoulders with 
 my woes and to submit to a separation that can mean no good to 
 the duchy or to our family? I refuse to marry this man." 
 
 Charlotte moved to the door but had taken only a few steps 
 when she turned at the words of Alexis. 
 
 "I have this morning, betimes, sent my emissary to His Im- 
 perial Highness, my father, asking that he make formal demand 
 for your hand. Perhaps, Princess, his answer, not yours, will 
 decide the outcome." 
 
 This, then, was the explanation for the riders' full-gallop 
 under her window. She continued toward the door and when she 
 had reached it swung about and flashed her contempt upon her 
 suitor. 
 
 "I am my father's daughter and I make plea only to him. For 
 you, my assurance that I have only scorn for a prince who would 
 force his hated person upon a woman when that woman holds him 
 in disdain. You have my answer." 
 
 II. 
 
 Alexis who knew that he held the Duke in the palm of his 
 hand, remained several days at Brunswick, stressing State motives 
 
 17
 
 and resolving victory over the rare creature who held herself aloof 
 in her own apartments. Her parents visited her several times daily 
 and brought ministers of State who urged upon her immediate ac- 
 ceptance of the haughty Russian lest the giant maw of his country 
 close down on the tiny duchy, craunch and efface it. The tender 
 father did not minify the miseries sure to overwhelm his beloved 
 child through such an alliance, but had the prevision to see that in 
 the event of acceptance or rejection of the Czarewitz' suit he would 
 have no power to stay the evils of destiny. His duchy would be 
 obliterated if he held out against the union and he would be over- 
 whelmed by the bitterness of reproach from his subjects. He 
 sought to divert Alexis from his fixed intention but finally saw no 
 path save compliance to the scheme of the unrelenting despot. The 
 only hope of the Duke's family now remaining was the answer of 
 the Czar who might have another alliance for Alexis under con- 
 sideration. Upon this hope they fed until the return of the envoy 
 who led a delegation to make formal request for the hand of Char- 
 lotte. 
 
 D'Aubant was too well-seasoned a statesman not to know the 
 inevitableness of the position in which Charlotte would be placed if 
 the Czar were favorable to the union. But he let no word escape 
 and after his diplomatic engagements of the day lingered over his 
 portfolio with the numerous sketches he had made of Charlotte and 
 was at hand whenever the absence of Alexis and the policies of the 
 Court made sittings possible. She seemed far removed from him 
 now, further than in the happy days so recently spent, when the 
 knowledge of his own inadequate rank had kept him silent in his 
 own love. He treated her even more reverentially, for to him she 
 was dead forever, and he had no further hope for even occasional 
 contacts. This reflection gave him a despair out of which grew a 
 valiant design, put in effect ten minutes after the formal demand 
 for Charlotte's hand. 
 
 He had hoped to see Charlotte once more but scarcely trust- 
 ed himself to steady her, he was so distraught with his own grief. 
 
 He bade hasty farewells to the Duke but having no assurance 
 as to Charlotte's feelings toward himself, he made no effort toward 
 a painful interview. He had a plan which fired him with its daring 
 and soldier of fortune that he was, he sought to quell his sufferings 
 with activities that might best serve his love. He lately had enjoyed 
 
 18
 
 while in Switzerland, en route to Italy, the acquaintance of General 
 Lefort, confidential friend and adviser of the Czar of Muscovy. 
 The General had soon discerned the fine qualities of the Breton 
 gentilhomme and had honored him with many confidences and 
 other tokens of distinction. Him would D'Aubant seek now for 
 purposes of his own. 
 
 Time moves swiftly here, though painfully. D'Aubant found 
 General Lefort still kindly disposed toward him and brought about 
 without apparent effort on his own behalf, the invitation to enter the 
 Russian service in command of a regiment of artillery. Perhaps 
 again through Lefort, certainly upon his own merit, the Breton was 
 frequently favorably noticed by the Czar who must have wished 
 his own son as effective in his knowledge of military science and en- 
 gineering and in the command of a regiment. He was soon pro- 
 moted to a Colonelcy and Imperial favors were showered upon him. 
 
 III. 
 
 It was at noon of October 25th, 1711 that Charlotte Christina 
 Sophia, princess of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel, after two years of a 
 binding betrothal and at the tender age of eighteen years, became 
 the wife of Alexis Petrowitz, Prince of Russia, eldest son of Peter 
 the Great, at Torgau, in Germany. There were no rejoicings or 
 madrigals, no blushes or happy expectances. Charlotte, half- 
 fainting, clung with her remaining strength to her father's arms and 
 must be rudely torn away by the cruel debauche upon whom 
 her pure hand was bestowed. As white as her gown the poor 
 Princess passed, almost unconciously, from the keeping of a tender 
 father to the arms of a monster of ferocious temperament whose 
 profligacies and immoralities were the scandal of Europe. The girl 
 had suffered as much as the human heart may, and she felt that her 
 apathy and stunned acceptance of an indisputable demand were 
 prelusive of a welcome death. She submitted to the hysterical em- 
 braces of her family, was garbed for her hopeless journey and 
 lifted into the traveling coach. Six powerful steeds of the Ukraine 
 awaited restlessly to speed the mock lovers over their long journey 
 to the great Court of St. Petersburg and the rough Cossack escort 
 surrounded the equipage to insure its safety. The poor young bride 
 sank upon the cushions lifeless and unseeing. Alexis sat beside her 
 
 19
 
 and gloated upon the perfection of beauty that was his latest pos- 
 session and noted that grief could not scar features that had been 
 molded for his gratification. 
 
 With alarming cries the half barbarous convoy ranged about 
 the royal traveling carriage, ululations of savage beasts issuing from 
 their clamorous throats; kicking up thick dust that added to the fa- 
 tigue of the dangerous journey. Peasant carts were over-ridden by 
 plunging beasts and their owners cursed. Straggling auls or villages 
 and nomad camps were depleted of their hoards of rum and their 
 occupants made to yield their own beds and food for the dashing 
 cortege. Ravished from her tranquil palace and reasonable people, 
 Charlotte was affrighted at every new spectacle and sound, the 
 language which she was told was to be her only medium of ex- 
 pression torturing her sensitiveness with its harshness. The days 
 were unending and their violences anguished the shuddering bride. 
 The nights were horrible with the ghastly torches lighting the un- 
 tamed and unfatigued Cossacks playing their tribal game of 
 "Korshun" with its reports of snapping whips and their indulgence 
 at mess of vodka and soaked hardtack and tallow. Their drunken 
 songs were terrifying afterwards, sung deep within their bushy 
 beards accompanied by the beat of their primitive guitar, the bal- 
 alaika. Beggars swarmed for kopeks and met with the lash. The 
 csirousings of this cohort of wild brethren of the Steppes could not 
 be impeded by sympathy. Alexis, as the future ruler of millions of 
 souls, believed he was acting with policy in encouraging the 
 orgies which, besides, amused him. 
 
 Among the wild escort there was one Cossack who rode like 
 mad, sitting his superb Orlaf like a centaur, always in the lead 
 of the others yet compassing the space occupied by the length of 
 the irregular procession, back and forth, several times an hour that 
 all might be decent and suitable 1 in the nuptial escort. He wore a 
 shaggy Tartar bur^a drawn closely up to his ears, and his towering 
 bearskin shako pulled far down that only his eyes were disclosed 
 the eyes that foresaw all dangers of the road to his precious charge. 
 Occasionally he would ride up to the troika door and make 
 survey and whenever he did so Charlotte would arouse, lean for- 
 ward and touch his cloak. At relay-stations and post-houses this 
 Cossack's hand was alert for hers, to help her in descent ; and once, 
 when she slipped upon the step from sheer feebleness, he held her 
 
 20
 
 for a precious instant in his arms! Almost Charlotte smiled, but 
 her miseries crowded down upon her again and showed her the 
 fallacy of even one moment of a bliss that led nowhere. 
 
 Before entering St. Petersburg the chimes of an hundred 
 steeples reached the journeyers like mellifluous locusts with un- 
 ceasing throats. As they neared the heart of the great city the bells 
 came clearer and more joyously, mingling with the choruses of the 
 school-children carolling the beauty of a bride who witnessed the 
 scene in constraint and sorrow. The shoutings of a glad people 
 joined in the ecstasy of a dozen military bands, cannon thundered 
 and the holiday multitudes shouted welcome to the lady of high 
 repute who had dared risk her fate with their errant Czarowitz. 
 Charlotte made no sign, only staring at the faithful Cossack who 
 rode ahead to mark the place of arrest for the royal coach. He 
 stood by the door with humble mien as Charlotte descended and 
 passed him with halting foot, entering a life whose horrors she had 
 not plumbed in her innocence. Masquerades, balls, illuminations, 
 fireworks and feasting filled day and night but after the fanfare of 
 welcome, Charlotte sat in her new apartment, for one moment alone. 
 
 That night fair Agatha von Dienholm, one of the most de- 
 voted of her women, left her and sought Henri d'Aubant. She 
 bore a letter, the renunciation of her mistress' dreams which closed 
 the door upon hope and gave her honest standing for the future. 
 Thus had she written: "D'Aubant; Your disguise did not deceive 
 one whom you protected with such risk and sacrifice. Neither 
 could its purpose deceive my heart. I am telling you for the first 
 time that I love you. As I am the wife of another it is evident that 
 we must never meet again. I dare not trust myself too far ... .to 
 remain true to duty with love so near. May God be pitiful to us 
 both. Charlotte." 
 
 D'Aubant, man of vigor and prowess as he was, fell help- 
 lessly into a chair and re-read the letter before he realized its inex- 
 orable finality. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Without making further attempt to see the object of his love, 
 to unsteady her in her courage or shame her in her admission, 
 D'Aubant applied for discharge from the Russian Army, and 
 
 21
 
 waited in a tremor of indecision, daily fearing it would come and 
 with self-chiding hastening its receipt through every avenue of his 
 influence. It was six months before he achieved it and a complete 
 victory over himself for often he was tempted to speak to her on 
 the few rare occasions when he returned to St. Petersburg from the 
 wars that were up-piling the valiant record of the Emperor. These 
 were days full of danger and he threw himself into the most vulner- 
 able posts, firing the patriotism of the Russians themselves during the 
 bloody conflicts at Aland when nearly the entire Swedish fleet was 
 captured. The Frenchman fought by the side of the Czar himself, 
 who commanded the vanguard under Admiral Aprarin. The 
 Swedish vice-Admiral Ehrenschild opened the attack and a thousand 
 guns belched steel and flame and destruction in the equal conflict. 
 Throughout the engagement Peter smoked coolly and made witty 
 sallies in the midst of the thunder of ordnance and carnival of death. 
 D'Aubant challenged the sovereign's outspoken admiration by his 
 equal imperturbability : one may bandy with, Death when he is in- 
 different to the outcome. By nightfall the Swedish fleet had been 
 brought into the harbor of Abo and D'Aubant sat at his Majesty's 
 table partaking of his brandy. Peter was in dizzy spirits and was 
 disposed to commend all those who had assisted in the victory. 
 "Who would have thought, twenty years ago that we Russians 
 should this day fight and conquer in the Baltic with ships of our 
 own building!" Truly Peter had avenged Narva when eight 
 thousand Swedes had overcome an hundred thousand Russians in 
 their own intrenchments and routed the treacherous chieftain of his 
 own Cossacks, Mazeppa, and justified his stupendously increased 
 power at sea. 
 
 Peter promoted d'Aubant to a Colonelcy for his gallantry and 
 the unhappy man seized this favorable moment to ask for his dis- 
 charge, making showy regrets at leaving the service but stating the 
 most essential reasons for release; the death of his father and the 
 obligation to return to France to husband the confused pecuniary 
 affairs of his family. With deepest reconnaissance his reasons were 
 heard and found sound and gratefully the discharge was delivered 
 into his hands by Peter himself. 
 
 D'Aubant, reluctant and unhappy departed at once, looking 
 back upon the spires of St. Petersburg as symbols keen to pierce 
 the noble heart of Charlotte. 
 
 22
 
 He had turned to Paris for the balm of familiar surroundings 
 but did not react to its glories and fought against encumbering de- 
 pression and restlessness. Russia had apparently devoured his 
 great lady there was no sign from her and in her bristling entour- 
 age the daring Chevalier had no hope of a fresh token to hearten 
 him. 
 
 Thus passed years. Then came the epoch when the gallant 
 de Bienville founded New Orleans under the Regency of the Due 
 d'Orleans; and d'Aubant, walking one day in the allees of the 
 Luxembourg revolving in his mind where he should go for action 
 and distracting adventure, met the enthusiasm of one of his power- 
 ful friends who offered him an appointment as captain in the 
 Colonial trops which were starting for La Nouvelle France. He 
 bore high recommendations to Perier, the Colony's Governor, and 
 without regret for the past or a stir of interest in his new adventure, 
 d'Aubant sailed from France on the "Jean Bart". He was station- 
 ed at the barracks on the marge of the new city under the command 
 of the gallant d'Artaguette and, fond of military tactics and the 
 enforcement of discipline, gave his days up to the rigid performance 
 of duty. He permitted himself no relaxation in gayeties and in- 
 dulged in solitude and long rides on a spirited animal. He had 
 ever been famed as horseman, hunter and fisher and for these soon 
 became the admiration of the Indians, admiration which his ac- 
 quirements of the Choctaw language served to heighten. Later 
 d'Aubant obtained from the John Law Company a grant of land 
 on which he builded a seemly habitation, as the settlers' homes were 
 termed. He engaged Christianized Indians and slaves to fructify 
 these lands and his concession thrived. Old Pere Maret of the 
 Mission Saint Francois, consecrated to the evangelization of the 
 Indians, became his closest friend, sharing with him the infrequent 
 French prints noting the new war with Germany; the illness of 
 Louis; the coronation of George I or the great conflagration of 
 Brussels as these events were transmitted to the Colony. He had 
 not been long in the nascent town when he found a rude path 
 through primeval forests which offered singular charm and which 
 surprised him as being solid and well-packed amid the marshes. 
 He followed it and issued upon a broad stream bordered with 
 oaks across which lay a frail village of inhostile Indians. He now 
 knew that he had pursued the portage, later called Bayou Road,
 
 used by the Red Man for convoying the pirogues between the Miss- 
 issippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. The ground was high 
 and d'Aubant traversed it often, as offering shade and unusually 
 beautiful wood scenes, ever cool in their moisture. Gradually he 
 became friendly with the Indians of the Tchouchouma tribe 
 settled upon the eastern border of the slow stream and upon 
 which he built a log hut at some slight distance from their vil- 
 lage. In return he brought gifts such as were available in the little 
 colony for the women and children, and received their grateful co- 
 operation in the construction of his hermitage. Fragrant cedar logs 
 were used in the making, and the roof was sturdy though com- 
 posed only of thatched palmetto-palms. A rough chair and table 
 and an easel were all the furnishments of the hut, but here grew the 
 portrait of Charlotte for which the multitude of sketches made of 
 her in the distant duchy of Brunswick furnished items. Here he 
 worked with the only semblance of contentment he ever knew in 
 those difficult pioneer days, when his heart knew surcease 
 for awhile of the anxieties it felt constantly for her safety and her 
 health. When, after many months the portrait was finished it was 
 hung in its simple shrine of hand-hewn cypress but it illuminated its 
 beauty, making royal the rude environs. The figure was full length 
 and showed Charlotte in her girlish beauty, with wonderment in her 
 great blue eyes and unrealization curling her lips. She was in white 
 and no shred of ermine gave token of her station. At her side was a 
 crown of myriad points and costly gems, and it rested not upon a 
 pillow but crushingly upon a human heart. 
 
 He came here the lover as on a holy pilgrimage and spent all 
 the time which he could spare from his post in her precious presence. 
 Gradually he accumulated clay containers made by the Indians and 
 these he filled with mimosa and magnolia, wild jasmine, ghostly 
 lilies and crepe-myrtles, and daily renewed them at his lady's 
 feet. From the verger at the Cathedral he obtained a ruby veil- 
 leuse or vigil-light used at altars and this he set on a block of cedar, 
 filled with perfumed oil where it cast reverent glow upon the great 
 lady. Through four years he had not communicated with her fear- 
 ing that the most innocent message might bring upon her suspicion 
 or unrest. He lifted a spotless, mammoth magnolia blossom from its 
 bed of glistening leaves and noted their russet undertones. "How 
 like her in fairness," he thought as he held the blossom toward the 
 
 24
 
 portrait. A petal detached itself and fell upon his hand. He 
 etched upon its purity "May 16", the day of her birth and of their 
 last mutual happiness, the evening on which she had danced with 
 him in the far-off duchy of Brunswick, an earthly heaven in retro- 
 spect. This date had been also the day of auguries and evil 
 portents for it had brought the monster Alexis to wreck their lives. 
 Knowing that she would associate that day with himself whatever 
 her later memories, he forwarded this tribute from his gallant heart, 
 a kiss blighting its delicate texture. 
 
 V. 
 
 On that evening when Charlotte had dispatched the portentous 
 missive to d'Aubant, she became violently hysterical and gave way 
 to her first flood of tears. The strange ladies-in-waiting were alarm- 
 ed and asked the Countess of Kb'nigsberg, more experienced in every 
 way, to come to the assistance of the distraught Princess. The 
 Countess had been one of the mistresses of Augustus the Second, 
 King of Poland and through this alliance had become the mother 
 of the celebrated Count Maurice Marechal de Saxe. The Count- 
 ess was the closest friend permitted Charlotte and was to be relied 
 upon, which is unusual in Courts where mouth-honor fawns upon 
 royal vanity. She was a pattern of dignity at Court but cheering 
 with pranks and whimsies in the company of her royal mistress. 
 Charlotte begged her to forget the difference in their rank and 
 treated her as an elder sister, which the Countess greatfully appre- 
 ciated but with rare tact preserved her distance as one to be courted 
 rather than sink into the prostration of sycophancy. She was a 
 stanchion to Charlotte and as will be proved, alive with expedients 
 for her salvation. She knew of the debaucheries of the Czarewitz 
 and that he had married Charlotte because in no other way was she 
 obtainable for his present humor. It was no surprise to her, there- 
 fore, to note the renewal of his laxities which caused a growing 
 aversion to Charlotte whose cold dignity repelled him when he saw 
 that he could not coarsen her and mould her to his ferocious moods. 
 Charlotte found conditions very different at the Muscovite Court 
 from those in the pleasant duchy of Brunswick where simplicity and 
 cleanliness and morality had obtained. She was taught anew the 
 rigors of coercive deportment, curbed and restrained constantly and 
 surrounded by stern dignitaries and strange ladies-in-waiting, her 
 own being banished from her more familiar service. A Protestant, 
 
 25
 
 she was perforce instructed in the Greek religion and the Russian 
 language, necessitating hours of isolation from any save priests and 
 tutors. Her dancing was altered, the joyous free step of her native 
 people being considered too indign for the overpowering pomp of 
 the Czar's household. This was, in itself, perhaps the most corrupt 
 in Europe, but it wore ermine gaily over its leprous body and dic- 
 tated its stilted and absurd etiquette. Living was an admixture of 
 luxury and barbarism in the palace and the innocent girl, projected 
 so swiftly from sane influences into environs of actual filth and 
 moral laxities, quailed humanly at her problem. Spies were set 
 about her, not because she was suspected of any wrong, but as a 
 custom that must be followed. No one might speak to her in a low 
 tone and she must summon none of her country-women though she 
 yearned to speak her own tongue with those retainers who had 
 shared the dangers of the journey with her and the change in their 
 fortunes, leal to her service. Her letters must be composed by the 
 Council of Foreign Affairs and she was permitted only to sign them 
 which often she was obliged to do though they expressed cruelties of 
 which her soul was incapable. In communicating with her parents 
 and sisters she would plead for the boon of a personal message but 
 she was rebuffed into silence and warned that the Council knew bet- 
 ter than she the proprieties of correspondence. She feared the mis- 
 judgment of her affection would be the result and that her own 
 people would believe her lost to them through her own will and a 
 change of heart allying her to her new country. Yet what redress 
 was there of a Czar who condemned his wife and sister to the or- 
 deal of the knout and who, when not engaged in endless wanderings 
 or war, played with his puppet-dwarf and a monkey and was only 
 less abandoned than his son? She had too often trembled to see 
 Peter's brutal violence against his victims and shivered against the 
 blasphemy of his cynical piety ; but whether coarse buffoon or mock- 
 ing precant he was more approachable than Alexis whose hatred of 
 her increased daily after his first days of gloating possession. He 
 strove to drag her to his level and to indurate her sensibilities with 
 roystering associates at one of his numerous estates far from artificial 
 echoes of palace decorum. Her finer texture had only served to ex- 
 asperate the reprobate and he would recite to her the intimate details 
 of his amours and vaunt publicly his open liaisons with scullery- 
 maids who could neither read nor write. At her prayers to his 
 
 26
 
 self-respect he flew at her in wild-beast fashion, calling her vile 
 names and beating her senseless. Her women trembled but dared 
 not even report his orgasms lest punishment fall upon them for tale- 
 bearing, an especial horror of Alexis whose deeds could not stand 
 relation. When her son was born it was received by the Court and 
 Ministers and removed to another part of the palace and she was 
 permitted to see it lying in its black fur-lined cradle only on state 
 occasions. No one came near her after confinement and she lay 
 for hours thus untended, fairly perishing of thirst. Her rich trous- 
 seau was replaced at once by Russian characteristic dress, and she 
 was made to wear beshmet, sarafan, chuviafyi and the heavily jewel- 
 ed head-dress of the fyokoshnify. 
 
 Her toilet implements were encrusted with gems worth a 
 ransom in rubles, her prayer-book was heavily bediamonded; yet 
 in the midst of rococo magnificence vermin infested her rooms and, 
 after a rain, pools of water stood upon the floor. There were 
 sweeps of crimson damask and priceless tapestries on the broken 
 walls but her room held only a bed and a chair, and there was no 
 ventilation or effort at repair. Doors did not shut nor windows 
 open yet draughts scurried in the interstices of the walls and fairly 
 froze those who did not spend their time in the smoky air of the 
 still-rooms. 
 
 A month before the birth of her first child Alexis unjustly 
 charged her with recounting his indecencies to the Czar. Charlotte 
 denied any participation in the rumors, whereupon the churl kicked 
 her and with curses showered her with such heavy blows that the 
 infant was destroyed and the life of the young mother for weeks 
 trembled in the balance. 
 
 His natural brutality was given full play before the passage 
 of a year and after the affliction of three violent illnesses it was 
 proved that he had tried to poison her. When her second child 
 was born she felt it her duty to make every possible allowance for 
 her ferocious husband and sincerely tried to show good-will to him, 
 complete forgiveness and the rarest qualities of her mind and heart 
 proved that she was submissive and her will broken. She revived in- 
 terest in her singing and forced herself to play upon the harp, at 
 which she made so rare a picture; but Alexis was cold to every en- 
 deavor, insulting her, using only brusque tones and hateful glances 
 whenever court etiquette forced her presence upon him. The careful- 
 
 27
 
 ly cosseted health of her girlhood stood her in good stead, and des- 
 pite all these cruelties she survived them and maintained her sweet 
 dignity toward all the Court. Charlotte would have appealed to the 
 Czar for his influence upon her husband, but Peter and the Czarina 
 Catherine were occupied in foreign countries and when at home 
 were too much engaged in State affairs or were too indifferent to 
 succor her. Peter was ambitious to emerge from the obscurity of 
 his predecessors and to put himself in a position to create a new 
 Empire; grown dizzy with power he felt within himself con- 
 stant stirrings of conquest though already he was held as famous in 
 the chantiers of Amsterdam as he had made himself at the battle 
 of Pultowa. None other dared to oppose Alexis' violences. 
 
 Charlotte's children, Peter and Natalie, were removed at birth 
 and she was not allowed to nurture them or even see them. After 
 this incredible brutality Charlotte smiled no more nor attempted to 
 use her affability and charm upon either husband or Court. She 
 was as a dead woman, inside, an automaton who must articulate for 
 the space a master-key had designed. 
 
 VI. 
 
 On a day a battered package was received at the Imperial 
 palace addressed to Charlotte. The wrappings disclosed only a 
 russet petal. Charlotte was alone save for the presence of the 
 Countess of Kb'nigsberg. Charlotte held it to the light and the 
 etched date of her birth betrayed itself. Her head sank into her 
 folded arms and she wept and called silently upon her God. The 
 Countess rose and comforted her, meanwhile taking note of the 
 clumsy package, its battered condition and the post-mark. She 
 gathered up all save the petal and put them on the hearth and set a 
 candle to lick up the inflammable dross. Not any too soon, for 
 Alexis, without warning, strode into the apartment. The Countess 
 discreetly withdrew but remained within hearing, knowing the ex- 
 cesses of which the brute was capable. He went straight to the 
 point he permitted himself no amenities with his wife. "You will 
 invite my new Dushenffa to Court," he said. "Tonight. She is 
 
 28
 
 a Cossack and her name is Ulitka. I mean this. At once. Yei 
 BoguT 
 
 Charlotte was stimulated by the breath of the magnolia-petal 
 which had journeyed from Louisiana to comfort her with its brief 
 text. Her whole future was to feel the effect of that mere rag of 
 flower. [ 
 
 She rose and flashed her defiance at his insult "That will I 
 not do." 
 
 "Yok? Durotchka!" he cried and spat. "There is always 
 the torturing-room left," he threatened. 
 
 "The torturing-room is here", she answered, meeting his rage 
 with melancholy. Alexis wheeled about, shocked by her defiance. 
 He struck at her a blow leveled at her temple, and she fell ; then he 
 kicked her, cursed her, grimly surveyed the barbarity he had com- 
 mitted and left the room. 
 
 Unconscious and bathed in blood, the listening Countess found 
 the broken body and tried every means at hand to arouse her. Aid 
 was summoned and restoratives ventured. 'Twas her women 
 who worshipped her who conceived the plan to send word to the 
 departing Alexis that his wife was dead of his blows. 
 
 He had ridden off to one of his shooting-boxes for a carnival 
 of drunkenness and women and when the tidings of his wife's re- 
 ported death reached him he laughed and drained a chapura, a 
 wooden cup containing eight glassfuls of chifyhir. But he cautiously 
 dispatched a courier to command that Charlotte be interred without 
 ceremony or rites, thinking thereby to disabuse the public mind of 
 undue knowledge of the brutalities to which he had submitted her 
 the night before. 
 
 Those were the days of leechers and cheap life and it was not 
 difficult after a command from a Czarewitz for a great lady such 
 as the Countess Kb'nigsberg to order a funeral for any one pro- 
 nounced by her to be dead. When Charlotte had opened her eyes 
 upon a world that offered her so much of humiliation and sorrow, the 
 Countess was the only attendant near. She bent her head low so 
 that the figure still upon the floor where she had been trodden might 
 hear her beyond peradventure of ambushed listeners. "Thank 
 God you still live!" whispered the Countess. "Though your fate 
 is more sad than that of any woman, you are loved by many. Let 
 that assurance hearten you, Beloved Highness." 
 
 29
 
 Charlotte closed her eyes. "I had hoped it was Death," she 
 murmured and then burst into tears. 
 
 The Countess rose and passed from one door to another of the 
 vast apartment, stirring an arras here and there, and holding her 
 faculties alert. Returning to the recumbent sufferer she slid beside 
 her and with apparent attention of soothing her bloody brow with 
 cool water and with her own handkerchief, she whispered; "Your 
 life is indeed as terrible as hell must be. Therefore Death can hold 
 no terror for you, Liebchen. I am saying to you that I believe 
 there is a way out. I risk my own salvation my hope of seeing the 
 Face of God. But such is my devotion to you, Beloved, that I 
 have a half-belief that in extinguishing your dolors at any cost, I am 
 making plea with the Great Father to look in mercy upon my past 
 frailties." The Countess paused and crooned a bit of Russian song 
 as if she were lulling a child to sleep, holding the picture of minis- 
 trant the while, lest some courtier's eye mistrust her concern and 
 abort its outcome. 
 
 "The Little Father has long fostered the peculiar talents of a 
 chemist of St. Petersburg," she whispered, half singing the while, 
 to cloud her words. "He claims to have proved that he can infuse 
 strange herbs and concoct therewith a liquor which has power to sus- 
 pend life itself. It has been known to fail and death ensue upon the 
 the prisoners on whom the potion was essayed. Yet others lived 
 after a period of hours, more often they lived. I have watched 
 this experiment for months I did not know why, Charlottechen 
 It may mean Death! Will you risk all on the draught?" 
 
 "Af(h, Bozhe moi, my children " murmured Charlotte 
 
 sighing deeply and sending her melancholy appeal for help into the 
 fond eyes of the Countess. 
 
 "At birth they were taken away to be cared for by venal 
 strangers. Their education is to be Muskowitish, they are probably 
 being taught to hate you. Forgive me, dear one, but I cannot 
 choose my words in assaying this terrible Russian household nor 
 
 will I offer you false hope Have you anywhere to repair 
 
 should you accomplish your escape?" 
 
 Charlotte closed her eyes to check fresh tears of hopelessness 
 and actual pain and her features contracted in the effort of re- 
 pression. She pressed the hand of her sympathetic friend. 
 
 "Of course you cannot go to your father Muscovite lies have 
 
 30
 
 embittered him against you," thought the Countess audibly. "If there 
 
 could be a way to hide in Russia but the punishment would 
 
 be terrible if discovery followed Charlotte! will you drink 
 
 the potion? Does death affright you? How does life balance the 
 hazard?" 
 
 From her bed of humiliation which had been pressed only by 
 the feet of others, Charlotte arrested her pain by the flight of thought 
 which left a discouraging inventory : the martyrdom she endured, the 
 monster who had every right upon her, her arms empty of the 
 children she had borne and over unknown seas to an unknown 
 wilderness where one loved her in despair and in spite of silence and 
 the passing of years. She flushed at her theft of the remembrance 
 of that love which seemed to threaten all sense of near duty and 
 she would have put it away but for the luring voice of the Countess. 
 
 "Is there no one in the New World, perhaps, 
 
 Charlotte, whoever loves you there is worth ten thousand thrones 
 and all this mockery of station. Go to him. I dare uncover this 
 secret passion of yours to bring you to a sense of duty to yourself. 
 Forgive me and believe in my devotion and willingness to serve 
 you. If it is your will rather to sip a more noxious poison, I shall 
 prove my love by sharing it." 
 
 Looking into the eyes above her Charlotte was stimulated by 
 the ardent friendship whose testimony was registered there and she 
 rose staggeringly and drew the Countess into her embrace. 
 "yatyushlpl Life to me is worse than that of the slave's in Siberia," 
 she murmured, 'and surely the blows of him who should cherish 
 me are far more cruel than the knout. He has bereaved me of my 
 little ones whom I should not know from among others were they 
 to enter this room." The kicks and blows, the shame and forced 
 association with his mistresses, some of them kitchen-wenches, the 
 oaths and contumely, filled her days and nights and only the de- 
 votion of the Countess Konigsberg and her tire-woman made little 
 rifts of toleration which held her faith in humanity and saved her 
 reason. Was there in life really escape from such bondage? Sud- 
 denly she released her friend and gently pushed her away. "Seek 
 the chemist," she whispered. "Make any plans you choose for me. 
 My will is broken. And remember, there is only gratitude for your 
 services whatever the outcome. In my heart I hope the phial will 
 bring me Death." 
 
 31
 
 Truly there was no time to be lost The Countess, disguised 
 as one of her own maids, quitted the palace and sought the apothe- 
 cary favored by Peter and with her wit and rubles obtained the 
 fateful drug, swearing upon an ikon that no trace of the transfer 
 would ever connect him with the consequences. 
 
 Passing the day upon her knees and in tender farewells to the 
 little group of women who worshipped their alien Princess, with 
 death-bells reverberrating about her and the mockery of crape 
 contributing its shudder to her crucial act, Charlotte lifted the 
 potion to her lips. She had asked divine forgiveness, believing it 
 would justify her; so without blenching at impending entombment 
 she drank farewell to her misery and a toast to a love supernal as 
 the stars, whereby her soul traversed the seas to a lover in the wild- 
 erness. Her lips smiled as she swooned, with the instant miracle of 
 their union! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The bulletin announcing the demise of the royal Charlotte had 
 sent its tremors into the steeples of St. Petersburg and in the little 
 churches of its demesnes, tolling a relay of tenebration to the vil- 
 lages where her fame for virtue had made her loved. 
 
 The Countess of Kb'nigsberg had crossed the frail hands over 
 the breast of the Princess, placing a jeweled ikon in their clasp. 
 The Court was summoned and the Privy Councillor and many 
 ministers and ambassadors entered the apartment to formally verify 
 the death. Long the Councillor gazed upon the face of cold beauty 
 and felt deep resentment against a fate which had so foully used 
 this victim of Romanoff lust. 
 
 "The absence of His Highness, Alexis Petrowitz, is regret- 
 table", said the statesman. "He has sent a courier to announce his 
 indisposition which makes the return journey impossible, and urges 
 haste in consigning this saintly wife to the tomb. He fears in- 
 vestigation and would check evil report. It is indeed a sorry day 
 
 may God restrain any other good woman from a marriage with 
 
 the tyrant." Beautiful in her semblance of carved marble the Coun- 
 cillor compared the exanimate Princess with the slave-girl, Afrosinia, 
 now sojourning with her master at Tzarko'i Selo whose liberties were 
 surer and treatment kindlier that the noble wife's had been. 
 
 32
 
 A sudden gust swept the streets, blowing an almost level sheet 
 of rain, which, seeking weakest points in the roof's disrepair, sent 
 a steady drip upon the prone figure. The Chancellor tenderly 
 fetched a rug and placed it over the body. Taking advantage of 
 this show of feeling the Countess seized his hand and kissed it. Her 
 brain was confused by the plans that crowded her imagination and 
 she sought for words to put a vital request for needful action. 
 
 "You will graciously remain with the corpse of Her High- 
 ness", commanded the great man. "The Czar is probably in 
 Holland as also the Empress Catherine. We must not lack in 
 doing honor to our noble Princess though her natural mourner, the 
 Czarewitz, is drunken with green wine or his favorite Tartar in- 
 ebriation, Buza," He threw another glance upon the still form 
 on the couch. "Poor Mammhka!" and the mists of the outer air 
 seemed to have suffocated his further speech. 
 
 The Countess dried her eyes and plunged into the crisis of the 
 interview. "Your Excellency, the pity you bestow upon this un- 
 fortunate princess will shine in your account in heaven," 
 she murmured. "And since I know you to be clement and of deep 
 sympathy I make bold to ask an indulgence of your high influence. 
 I pray that I may be permitted to remain beside the bier in the 
 Imperial tomb during this, her last night on earth. Tomorrow her 
 fair flesh will be enveloped with the dust of the Romanoff 
 sovereigns, and we will know her no more. Grant my boon and to 
 the hour of my death. I shall recommend your mercy to the Great 
 Father." 
 
 The Councillor noted no over-ardency in the request though it 
 was unusual for a woman who ordinarily must have quailed before 
 such an ordeal. The Countess gazed unflinchingly into his eyes. 
 
 "You are a woman of courage," said the Councillor. "You 
 must indeed esteem the dead as a daughter. I will give an order to 
 pass the guards and that your vigil be respected as the dead. Da 
 Svidanya." 
 
 Charlotte's fair body was laid in a priceless coffin and a pall 
 of rich gold tissue spread upon it. Thousands kissed her clasped 
 hands and knelt at her bier to intercede for her early release from 
 Purgatory. Believing in her sanctity they knew she could urge divine 
 favors for themselves, so many and long were the orisons breathed 
 in the hush of the Church of the Holy Trinity. 
 
 33
 
 As on the occasion of her entrance into St. Petersburg as a 
 bride, so stirred the chimes and carolled the school-children. Many 
 gorgeously garmented priests bearing the holiest reliquaries, 
 crucifers; acolytes swinging censers and choir brethren intoning 
 litanies, led the magnificent cortege. Royalty walked afoot car- 
 rying burning tapers in their hands. Again the twelve bands of 
 St. Petersburg blared their brasses in honor of Charlotte, and again 
 floated the empire's flags, but now portentous with blots of black. 
 The waiting attendants who had followed her into bleak and love- 
 less exile were allowed their place after the glittering military and 
 beribboned statesmen. Stark she lay in the gilded hearse with its 
 myriad sable plumes, insensate to the muffled drums beating death's 
 tattoo and the sound of barbaric threnodies. All-important 
 functionaries, officers of high rank and the mightiest courtiers walk- 
 ed in the long black procession, and the great horde of spectators, 
 with the volatility of such, wept their tear, admired the banners and 
 then made holiday of the event. 
 
 Charlotte's coffin was placed on a marble sarcophagus in the 
 chapel-like tomb and the Countess of Kb'nigsberg began a night of 
 grim association with her mistress, full of misgivings for the out- 
 come. In waxen sleep Charlotte lay as the Countess tensely 
 searched by a flickering torch for a token of awakening. The 
 chill vault had no power to make her sensible of her own discomfort 
 as she anticipated an answering sign of life. The hours passed and 
 St. Petersburg slept. 
 
 At the change of guards towards dawn the restraint of the 
 Countess grew less under her command. It was now time to act if 
 Charlotte be still alive and her escape to be accomplished. 
 
 In the guard was one whose service was absolute, despite risk 
 or terror of death, by mention of the name of le Marechal de Saxe, 
 her son. He would be at the north portal of the tomb ... he was 
 there now in the black silence in which none could see. Closer 
 pressed the Countess to the quiet Charlotte. She started and the 
 thrill of hope and dread shook her own form. Was that the flicker 
 of the torch which spread color upon the cheek lately so pallid and 
 sunken? Were the blue lips actually deepening to scarlet? The 
 Countess seized her all-encircling mantle, threw it over Charlotte, 
 and leaned hard to yield to the cold form the heat of her own. 
 
 Charlotte's eyes opened slowly and she shuddered. 
 34
 
 "Liebchen, it is I, the Konigsberg all is well. Do not 
 
 utter a word .... Thank God for you! I will help you to 
 
 rise Can you walk? Listen. My batenfya, brave, reliable 
 
 Ilyukha, and Aenchen, are in the shadow of the north portal. 
 They have a well-filled purse and a casket of your personal jewels. 
 May your adventure prosper and may we meet again on earth. 
 God tend you now!" 
 
 Gaining her feet, Charlotte, now thoroughly aroused, shook 
 off the lethargy enhazing her and pressed a passionate kiss of 
 gratitude upon the lips of her trusted friend. Thus she issued from 
 the royal tenement of the dead, the Countess' mantle enveloping 
 her cerements; nameless, unknown, but vibrant with hope natural 
 to her twenty-three years. The batenfya joined her in the sombre 
 shadow of the tomb, addressing her briefly in French and indicat- 
 ing the presence of the maid further on. 
 
 Thus did Charlotte fare forth to another epoch, risen from the 
 dead that she might live a fuller, nobler existence, expunging the 
 miseries of seven years when her betrothal had interrupted the one 
 love-dream native to her simple heart. 
 
 And as she sped away all Europe wore the trappings of grief 
 for a log which had replaced her in the coffin and which was ac- 
 corded State burial in the escutcheoned tomb of the Romanoffs on 
 which one may today read her carved name ! 
 
 The little group, all traveling in man's attire, fled to the coast, 
 made their way to Hamburg, thence to Paris and to Havre-de- 
 Grace, after many adventures inescapable to those who journeyed 
 in primitive Russia, their incognito serving both as shield and de- 
 terrent, according to the varying circumstances. Charlotte and her 
 maid retired to quiet lodgings, Ilyukha alone venturing out for food 
 and for information. Recognition of the Princess would have been 
 fateful indeed and Charlotte strove for its avoidance. 
 
 D'Aubant, it was learned, was still Captain of the New 
 Orleans militia and as he had asked for no leave it was presumable 
 that so he would remain until she could span the leagues between 
 them. We are told that the Princess took ship of the Compagnie 
 des Indes to which the Grand Monarch had conceded the right of 
 colonizing "Louisiana that was also termed Mississippi". 
 
 Eight hundred emigrants, fascinated by the promises of John 
 Law, embarked on the merchantman "Dolphin", which bore the 
 
 35
 
 Princess Charlotte; most of these were Germans risking health, 
 savings and future on the adventure. 
 
 With Ilyukha whom she called "Father" and the good 
 Aenchen who must replace many tire-women of the past, our il- 
 lustrious Inconnue watched the shores of the Old World slip into 
 ocean with tear-flooded eyes. Her personal sorrows had not 
 warped her and she might have been happy were she not over- 
 whelmed with a mighty regret that she would never clasp her babes 
 again. 
 
 The night brought a hurricane with all the dramatic ritual of 
 heaven and waters, so that the brigantine seemed lost and the la- 
 mentations of the crew further affrighted the passengers. There 
 were scant comforts aboard the insanitarily congested ship: for 
 several days no food could be prepared and the timbers shook off 
 the feet that would tread them. Like a spirit the imperially-bred 
 woman moved among the sick, fearless and compassionate, nursing, 
 soothing, heartening, incarnate charity voicing prayer to the discon- 
 solate. 
 
 For ten days the "Dolphin" was becalmed, making of ship- 
 life a hateful prison with starvation imminent. 
 
 In this after-calm she effaced herself as much as she was per- 
 mitted, though the children of the emigrants urged upon her their 
 love and caresses which she reciprocated in memory of her own little 
 ones. She represented Ilyukha always as her father and though she 
 conducted herself as simply as possible it was felt that she must 
 be a great lady whom misfortune had marked for its own. She spoke 
 affably in German and French with the poorest. Her servants 
 eschewed Russian that no later report identify their mistress and 
 the passage of days accustomed the little group to their new con- 
 dition. 
 
 In March of the year 1721 the brigantine arrived in safety 
 though with considerable loss of rigging, limping upstream from the 
 Gulf of Mexico, weary from its long and weary voyage. Charlotte 
 took part in the final councils of the adventurers of fortune as they 
 joined their funds for the making of a settlement on the bank of the 
 River and received the acclaim of their grateful hearts for her 
 ministrations during the month. 
 
 The low-lying town had suffered from a flange of the West 
 Indian hurricane which had almost logged the "Dolphin", and the 
 
 36
 
 voyagers, beaten in spirit, looked dully from its decks upon unroof- 
 ed cabins and prone trees. To "Madame de Moldau" as she was 
 known to them, they appealed for consolation, but indeed her own 
 courage quailed before the Indian hut which was the only harbor 
 offered and for which she was taxed unfairly. The hut was op- 
 pressed with noisome smells, whined with swamp-mosquitoes, echo- 
 ed the throb of frogs' calls and pulsated with tropic heat. 
 
 It was past noon when the Princess touched foot at the land- 
 ing, and at once she instructed Ilyukha to discover the whereabouts 
 of the Chevalier Captain Henri d'Aubant. Her anxiety increased 
 as she awaited the return of the faithful old man. Might he not 
 have traversed the seas, crossing her path during the hurricane, to 
 return to France forever? Might not his intrepid spirit have given 
 itself back to God and the world know him no more? Thus 
 Charlotte tortured herself in the interval of waiting, courage and 
 despair alternating their companionship. 
 
 The venerable Ilyukha hastened on his mission, repairing 
 first to the Champ de Mars where the scant militia were drilled in 
 the early days of colonization. He was directed to the Barracks, 
 on the riverbank, below the little Church of St. Louis which was the 
 core of the sparse settlement. He was there informed that Monsieur 
 the Capitaine d'Aubant, having fulfilled the duties of the day had 
 repaired on horseback to his chalet on the border of Bayou St. 
 John ; and that it would be a pleasure to send a messenger to recall 
 the officer. The portage path used by the Indians to convoy 
 pirogues between the River and Lake Pontchartrain was desig- 
 nated by the soldier who would have been glad to prolong the in- 
 tercourse with one so recently from the older civilization. Ilyukha 
 was wordy without being communicative, very polite, very obliged ; 
 hurrying away with the tidings for his mistress. 
 
 Ignorant of the distance to be covered, the dauntless Princess 
 set forth, adjuring her servitor to spare himself as he brushed her 
 path free of venturesome boscage and the spiked and berried yupon, 
 cactus, stinging yucca, that would have impeded her fleet passage. 
 Arrived at the edge of a tortuous stream she cast about for a sign 
 of habitation. Smoke arose from among the trees on the opposite 
 bank and Charlotte sought a means to cross the Bayou. Suddenly, 
 a stately Indian form rose, almost in her path, staring his inquiry. 
 
 37
 
 She gave the name of d'Aubant and the Redskin grunted, treading 
 softly toward the smoke rising in the trees. 
 
 Mists floated from the swamps toward the city's marge, em- 
 pearling all green things as a blightless frost. It was a panoply of 
 peace over the Indian village that seemed further detached from the 
 settlement of White Men thrilling on the River borders with the 
 pulse of many peoples generating energies which were to make of 
 it later a mighty metropolis. 
 
 Twilight is belated in New Orleans, and Nature waits long 
 for it, aswoon beneath the heat. Just as pleasure makes a toil of a 
 pageant, they marvel when it is over that so much fatigue should 
 attend so brief a glory. 
 
 An Indian mother crept along the path smoothed by moc- 
 casined feet, jogging a sleepy baby involuntarily in her haste. Her 
 arms were full of herbs and her eyes gave no heed to the coppery 
 sky that made the world so drab and so small in contrast with its pas- 
 sion. Dulled by routine-service, she hurried to her final tasks and 
 was blotted into the wilderness. 
 
 Frogs began tentatively to bay their evening mood. Here 
 and there the swimming length of an alligator paused near the brink 
 of the Bayou. Mocking-birds vocalized the ecstasy of coming re- 
 pose. A slight breeze rippled the Spanish mosses in the water- 
 oaks, perfuming the night with azalea, magnolia and yellow-jasmine. 
 In the silence there was sound that still was silence, but the spirit 
 heard, as if grasshoppers hummed far-away tunes or parish bells 
 carilloneured down a twilighted road. 
 
 Within the hut constructed of crude timber, d'Aubant sat at 
 his worship before the portrait of Charlotte, the little lamp set 
 ready for its vigil. "Fortunate little flickering life," he apostro- 
 phized the article of devotion, "destined to live so briefly but in al- 
 luming such beauty to expire in her presence!" 
 
 A heavy melancholy pervaded him as he sent his memory 
 Russia-ward, to one who must die to escape the terrors and insults 
 of her condition. He reviewed the years since the great mystery of 
 love had crept into his heart, from which he would not have freed 
 himself despite the bitterness it must ever cause. Burying his head 
 in his hands he bowed in anguish before the picture's presence and 
 sobbed with the abandon of a valiant soul overborne which knows 
 there is no possible intrusion upon its grief. 
 
 38
 
 He heard nothing but he ceased weeping abruptly and sat still. 
 In wonderment he rose and then turned slowly toward the door 
 which was darkened by a slight figure adumbrated against the 
 western scarlet. 
 
 D'Aubant stood transfixed and then his eyes wandered to the 
 wall where the Charlotte of his skill stood in the glow of the tiny 
 red lamp. He reverted to the figure at the portal, as moveless as 
 the other but the eyes lifted to his bore circles of suffering and 
 sleeplessness and there was the quality of past woes around her lips. 
 
 "Are you a spirit come to taunt me or a woman to tempt?" 
 asked d'Aubant hoarsely, gripped with a hope that was almost a 
 fear and believing that madness threatened. 
 
 The living woman traversed the little space and opened her 
 arms. "I am Charlotte", she answered, speaking low; "I am a 
 woman your woman for all eternity. Should I have come? I 
 am a refugee from the grave to you. If your love has changed I 
 have no place on this earth save another tomb." 
 
 The shock was weakening at first, but clasping each other the 
 lovers stood in embrace silent and soul-sufficing. It was long before 
 d'Aubant even thought to seat her in his one chair, to kneel before 
 her for a recounting of her chapters of sorrow. Together they wept, 
 but with warming hands tight-held, their tears were more of relief 
 from strain and the shackles of hideous duty than for living woes 
 the actuality of these growing momentarily less. So the night was 
 passed, in blessed confidences, both receiving strength from reitera- 
 tions of their mutual love that had upheld them through hopeless 
 disunion. 
 
 Never was troth plighted by more loyal lovers. Only a dread 
 shadow that Charlotte's identity be learned gave suspense to their 
 hearts but this they put aside; yet it intensified, perhaps, their 
 yearning for one another, sharpening their zeal for that which might 
 still be taken from them, mutual possession. Their passion had 
 stood all tests and they would bear it with them, they knew, beyond 
 the doors of death. 
 
 IX. 
 
 "Here I fain would end 
 Leaving her harbored." 
 Indeed, it is a temptation to leave Charlotte reunited with her 
 
 39
 
 knightly lover, and those who have been diverted by her fortunes will 
 admit they are strange and engaging. But dare the historian deny 
 the subsequent fate of his theme? And in the ensuing vicissitudes of 
 the loyal lovers is there not a stronger lesson to be applied and 
 why else do we read if not to learn? than through even the forti- 
 tude which has been shown by both ? 
 
 It was now become necessary to establish a certain formality 
 of habitation in the meagre town in which Charlotte, d'Aubant and 
 their devoted servants began their new life. Ilyukha rendered to 
 d'Aubant the sum of rubles and the jewels given him by the Count- 
 ess Kb'nigsberg for the maintenance of the Princess, which 
 were sufficient to acquire a small plantation on the Mississippi con- 
 venient to the Barracks. To this sum d'Aubant added his savings ; 
 negroes were purchased and indigo and tobacco planted. 
 
 Here, then, is domiciled the former Russian Grand Duchess, 
 of august blood, destined to the throne of one of the most vast 
 Empires in the world, now the mere wife of a Captain of Infantry 
 in a land peopled with more than six hundred negroes and in the 
 midst of a nation of savages, coureurs de bois, convicts, vagabonds, 
 adventurers of all kinds. 
 
 Charlotte patiently and lovingly strove to anchor and in- 
 denizen this shifting and heterogeneous people, giving counsel to 
 her spouse that his difficult duties amid the despotic policy of the 
 colonial system might be easier; acknowledging to him daily that 
 she was a thousand times happier in their present situation than she 
 had been in years past in the Imperial Palace at St. Petersburg. 
 
 Charlotte restrained her desire to mingle socially with the 
 colonials, many of whom, like the noble Bienville, parent of the 
 habitants, Perier, the royal commissary d'Artaguette, Lamothe 
 Cadillac, Lebas, Dirigoin and La Loire des Ursins would have 
 been welcome associates to herself and to her husband. With the 
 arrival of the three religiouses from Paris, Sisters Gertrude, Louise 
 and Bergere with a group from the hospital-general to be wives for 
 the clamoring colonists, Charlotte inspired the fanatic Cure de la 
 Vente to unusual consideration of the frightened girls. 
 
 In the simplicity of their course, in their pure togetherliness, 
 Charlotte often sent wondering sympathy to her sisters, the one 
 'TImperatrice d'Occident" and the other on the throne of the 
 Caesars. She smiled and held her lover close and marveled that 
 
 40
 
 God had gave her the benison of such mutuality and such peace. 
 
 In a twelvemonth a son was born to them, but his life was a 
 mere spark which flickered out in a year. Charlotte had too deep- 
 ly suffered and her physical hardships had been too acute to allow 
 fit physical reparation before this ordeal and the child-life paid 
 the toll. The tomb of this infant in one of the old St. Louis 
 cemeteries is a nucleus of verity to this royal romance. Later a 
 daughter was born to her which she gave nurture and unremitting 
 care. 
 
 Christina was the idol of the lovers and she was taught to 
 lisp her baby phrases in French and German interchangeably. She 
 was mental but delicate in form, and a constant solicitude to her 
 parents. D'Aubant while adoring his child, gave her secondary 
 place to his wife the possession of whom never staled into a reality. 
 A million proofs of his devotion were manifested daily; often he 
 would fall upon his knees before her, clasping them and relapsing 
 into a silence that could only mean that he communed in thank- 
 fulness for her presence there. His maddest moments of passion 
 were restrained by respect. It was not her high station that affect- 
 ed his attitude, but the appraisal of her virtues and past sufferings, 
 her acceptance of his uncertain lot and the hardships of indenization 
 in a strange land, inspired his homage as no Empress could have 
 done. With pangs he noted her ever-ready hand in his assistance 
 in the labors of his establishment and in the military accounts in 
 whose preparation he was responsible. It was a solemnly momen- 
 tous day for them when the tidings filtered to the tiny town through 
 European prints that a catastrophe had convulsed Russia in the 
 trial for treason against Peter the Great by the Czarewitz, in 1719. 
 The revolt was proved, the unnatural son having vaunted, during 
 one of his long absences of the Czar, that his intention was to pull 
 down, after his father's death, all that the creative genius had 
 achieved. Peter himself had issued a manifesto in which he gave 
 account of Alexis' crimes and seditions, his first fruitless efforts to 
 reclaim him and bring him to a sense of filial and national duty. 
 Peter announced his resolve to abrogate his succession to the 
 throne and appointed in his stead his half-brother, Peter, the little 
 son of Catherine, finally placing his curse upon the fate of his 
 wicked son. 
 
 The Mercure de France then set forth the pretended resolve of 
 
 41
 
 Alexis to enter a monastery, taking a solemn oath upon the Gospel 
 that he felt this to be his vocation: continuing his orgies the while, 
 making light of his father's efforts to bring him to reason. Alexis 
 had dragged to his perjurious fate such adherents as had hoped to 
 fatten upon his favors by secretly espousing his cause; one of these 
 was impaled alive, a stake being driven through his body and thus 
 he was left to die ; on the great public square in the heart of Moscow 
 many were broken on the wheel ; a bishop was burned alive and the 
 heads of other offenders were set upon poles at the four corners of 
 the square's area, to wag hideously in the breeze. Scourgings were 
 frequent, as also the bastinado. Afrosinia, the slave, who hated her 
 master, gave valuable testimony to the government and thus avenged 
 herself upon him for many cruelties. The convocation of clergy 
 and official dignitaries concluded their recommendations as to the 
 fate of him who was once designated "The Hope of Russia," thus; 
 "The heart of the Czar is in the hands of God, and may he choose 
 the part to which the hand of God shall turn it." The council had 
 been occupied for the space of a week in hearing the case, and when 
 their document of decision was presented to his Czarian majesty 
 he confirmed the judgment of the council. On July 6th Alexis 
 was arraigned in order that sentence of death might be solemnly 
 pronounced upon him. It was said that the Czar had signed the 
 death-warrant of his son, "For the good of Russia;" in England it 
 was reported that Peter had killed Alexis with his own hands in 
 the prison; another rumor was that he had been poisoned, still 
 another that devils had possessed him and he had died of apoplexy 
 after a mighty struggle. 
 
 Secret arrangements were made at once for a blessing of their 
 union by the exiled lovers, and the secrecy of their confessor enjoin- 
 ed. So life stretched before them peacefully, far from the hurtling 
 schisms and crimes of Russia. The Princess, civilly dead in 
 Europe, desired never to return there, the remembrances of her woes 
 lessening with the passage of time amid new scenes, particularly 
 since the death of Alexis. She relinquished all thought of re-estab- 
 lishing her relationships abroad, though her husband held a secret 
 fear that their method of life, so often sordid in its routine, would 
 later weigh upon her. Accustomed to glamorous courts all her 
 days, still young and radiantly beautiful, he knew she was un- 
 worthily set in the rambling town amid savages and a slow-develop- 
 
 42
 
 ing civilization. He could not accustom himself to her lack of 
 coquetry and the fact that she desired tribute from one alone 
 who comprised her world. The death of Ilyukha whom she still 
 deigned to call Father, was a fresh grief to her devoted heart 
 and she laid him away with all the honors possible to the crude little 
 church of St. Louis and holding him ever in her prayers and esteem. 
 He had followed her over more than half the globe, serving her in 
 many capacities and she missed him sorely. The foreign mail was 
 a source of eager interest to the distinguished emigre and the 
 Gazette de France was devoured for news of her sisters and her own 
 children. Charlotte soon found opportunities for the exercise of 
 those ministrations which were inevitable to her, and early began to 
 train her daughter's mind in channels of charity. She ordered from 
 France six dozen crucifixes, translations of the Gospels in the 
 Indian language, many rosaries for gifts to her friends the savages, 
 who in turn brought her fish and maize and their mute loving. She 
 supplied the rude little church St. Louis with a chalice, its priest 
 with vestments; and for the Indian women and their slaves who 
 gave her their tribute as to an angel, yellow, red and blue hand- 
 kerchiefs of Madras and trinkets for their adornment. So life 
 passed slowly, but full of tasks, on the bank of the Mississippi, and 
 Charlotte hoped it would continue so that her husband and her child 
 would always hold the sum of her demand on her Maker. 
 
 X. 
 
 But events are made for those born to crowns, and seldom may 
 they avoid them. Several years later the Chevalier was taken ill 
 and surgical aid was advised by the doctor of the colony, Jallot, 
 whose hand had too often met the friendly palm of his patient to 
 dare the delicate task. In those days, in this colony, it was only 
 natural that France was the destination of her subjects who denied 
 themselves the advantages of an old civilization to brave the ad- 
 versities of colonization far overseas. D'Aubant sold his plantation 
 at a loss, and took ship for Le Havre on one of those irregular 
 packets which brought news and supplies. Arrived in Paris he 
 underwent an operation, tended devotionally by his Charlotte. 
 After several weeks of immurement at his bedside, d'Aubant urged 
 his wife to leave their lodgings for a breath of air, which she at first 
 
 43
 
 refused to do, with kisses reminding him that this was her first dis- 
 obedience. Always considerate, d'Aubant pleaded on behalf of 
 their daughter, now a charming fillette, inheriting the beauty of her 
 mother but a frailer constitution. Charlotte saw through the ruse 
 but it served to make clearer her maternal duty and she rose and 
 prepared herself for a walk in the garden of the Tuileries. His 
 convalescence was assured and she acknowledged that a brisk 
 promenade would serve to fortify her for future nursing in the weeks 
 to come. The two fair women, arm-in-arm, passed down the allees, 
 pausing now and then to admire one of Nature's beauties, speaking 
 German to insulate themselves from passers-by. They expressed 
 the joy in their hearts that the adored husband and father was 
 gaining his strength and would soon be strong enough to take pas- 
 sage again for the Louisiana both loved and where Charlotte was 
 so sorely needed for her advices and ministrations among the Indians 
 and slaves. As they walked, laughing happily in an unusual re- 
 straint, a gentleman passed them and was aroused to quick con- 
 templation of their beauty. That they spoke German was another 
 reason for interest. He wheeled about and followed them, noting 
 the mature perfection of the mother and the budding allure of the 
 girl. He approached and uncovered. 
 
 "Your Highness has given me a great surprise," he said. 
 
 Charlotte pressed back her daughter and took a step toward 
 the speaker. Until that moment the girl had never known her 
 mother's title and she believed the gentleman mistaken. 
 
 'Monsieur le Marechal de Saxe!" Charlotte exclaimed. 
 
 "Your Majesty flatters me with her remembrance", replied 
 the Marechal. 
 
 "If there had been born to earth a beauty equal to Your 
 Majesty's I should probably have passed you just now, with no 
 more than a thought. But as a soldier and no flatterer I may as- 
 sure Madame that having enjoyed her vision at Court I could never 
 forget her. Pardon me if I confess that I had imagined you dead 
 these many years." He smiled and his eyes narrowed. "Most 
 certainly history has gathered you to the dead Muscovites, few of 
 whom, I believe, rise for regeneration. You are not a ghost, 
 Madame?" 
 
 Charlotte was chilled and weakened by this encounter but 
 her poise did not fail her. 
 
 44
 
 "Tell me first of your mother, my dearest friend," she began, 
 and then gave him clue of that mother's agency in her own release. 
 She implored him with dignity and yet with urgence to keep her 
 secret. At mention of his mother the Marechal flushed with 
 pride and reverence but Charlotte's request met with cold response. 
 The Count de Saxe would not dissimulate his intention to state the 
 present circumstance to the King of France though he pledged 
 secrecy in regard to the world in general. The Princess begged 
 him the grace not to mention the matter to Louis for three months 
 and to this the Count consented, at the same time asking permission 
 to visit herself and d'Aubant. Charlotte granted this favor, stip- 
 ulating that he come only at night and without witnesses. 
 
 Shaken from the interview, there was no further joy in the 
 promenade and Charlotte remained only long enough to pick up the 
 threads of her history and weave them into a tale fit for her 
 daughter's ear. When they returned to their shabby lodgings she 
 dared not trust herself to speak at once of the encounter lest her own 
 alarm further the disquiet the invalid. 
 
 D'Aubant was sitting up, covering a page with numerals, when 
 the pair entered. "Come, Beloved, let me prove to you a sorrowful 
 fact, that we must soon concern ourselves with the means for living. 
 My illness has cost us practically all our resources. I must indulge 
 this malady no longer but seek employment and take whatever is 
 offered. It is better to quit Paris where you are like to be recog- 
 nized but what has shocked the rose in your cheek ? My Charlotte 
 is not herself!" 
 
 The adventure of the morning was disclosed and the Chevalier 
 sat long in review of their exigencies without comment. He had 
 always feared this in returning to Paris and not only because their 
 funds were low had he chosen lodgings in this quiet quarter. On 
 that very evening the Count de Saxe called and his manner at 
 once set immediate fears at rest. He was courtly, kind, unforgetful 
 of the consideration due so great a lady who was now revealed to 
 him as a true woman, a noble and sacrificial and loving mother. 
 Maurice, Count de Saxe and Marshal of France, the natural 
 son of the Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, Augustus the 
 Second and the Countess of Kb'nigsberg, had learned the art 
 of war from the age of twelve under Prince Eugene and showed 
 his courage first at the siege of Belgrade. He entered the service 
 
 45
 
 of France in 1 720, but soon afterwards wandered to Courland, 
 where under the protection of the Dowager Duchess Anna Ivanova 
 he was elected Duke. The Empress Catherine would not counte- 
 nance his move, however, and he returned, not unwillingly, to 
 France where he continued to serve. It was after distinguishing 
 himself in the campaigns of 1 733-34-35 that his genius endeared 
 him to the French and there was perfect acclaim when he was 
 named Marshal in 1 743. Louis XV bestowed upon him the do- 
 main of Chambord and a revenue of 40,000 francs. 
 
 It was this famous visitor who sought entrance at the shabby 
 apartments of d'Aubant and who accorded its occupants the 
 obeisance of royalty. He was growing mature superbly, his giant 
 strength still challenging the regard of such as met him; it was true 
 of the Count that he could break a six-franc piece into bits with his 
 unprotected fingers! 
 
 He was disposed to the greatest friendliness toward the 
 fugitive lovers but his affiliation with the government and the King 
 was too secure to dim with even a suggested disloyalty. Statesman 
 and soldier, he dared not prospect upon the international entangle- 
 ment that might ensue were it proved that Charlotte were presently 
 harbored in France and long had been in one of the French colonies. 
 He was reasonable but severely determined and regretted his con- 
 sent to grant the three months' concession asked by Charlotte. 
 
 There are rumors that whisper still that the Marshal loved 
 Charlotte, which might account for the unyieldingness of his at- 
 titude and also for the accordance of three months' grace. 
 
 Certain it is that he visited the d'Aubant lodgings frequently 
 and alone but Charlotte's appeals were made only in the presence 
 of her husband. 
 
 Love was almost inevitable since her charm only increased 
 with years and she was still in her mid-thirties, her health un- 
 diminished and all her miseries had not had the power to acerbate 
 her radiant nature. 
 
 When d'Aubant was able to leave his lodgings he solicited 
 and obtained from the French East Indian Company the office of 
 major of the Island of Bourbon, his brave record being well known 
 to the War Bureau. Cautiously preparations were advanced, not 
 
 46
 
 even Aenchen knowing the plans but mutely coinciding with the 
 activities of the little household. 
 
 XL 
 
 The three months had passed and true to his pledge the Count 
 de Saxe strode to the d'Aubant domicile to make acquitment of his 
 promise before speaking to the King. He was astonished to learn 
 that Madame d'Aubant had already departed, with her husband, 
 daughter and servant for the East Indies, a summary of facts which 
 the Count hastened, with apologies for his weakness in consenting 
 to the pact, to relate to his Majesty. All dread of the effect of 
 this news vanished when the King sent for his Minister, making the 
 facts clear and commanding him to instruct M. de la Bourdonnais, 
 governor-general of the Isles of France and Bourbon (1739) to 
 greet Madame d'Aubant with the most distinguished respect. In 
 the same hour Louis indited a letter with his own hand to the Queen 
 of Hungary with whom, notwithstanding, he was in state of war, to 
 give her the tidings. It is a matter for admiration that the young 
 queen wrote to Louis with her fulsome thanks for his information, 
 enclosing a letter to be forwarded to her aunt in which she urged 
 her to return to her family, and above all to abide with herself, 
 Upon receipt of this communication Charlotte experienced a long- 
 ing for her family which she had quelled through years of exile 
 and self-immolation so that she paused in her reading and sent her 
 passionate heart outward to her kinsmen of whose contact she had 
 been so long deprived. But upon resuming the letter she learned 
 that the Queen, her niece, counseled her to abandon her husband 
 and daughter for whom the King of France had advised her he 
 would provide. 
 
 Charlotte did not hesitate in her reply, refusing to comply with 
 a disloyalty which would mean mere recognition of her past hated 
 honors and violence to a bond indissoluble by Death. 
 
 The Governor-General of Bourbon was wise and good and 
 his colony at Andre called daily blessings upon him and on their 
 own account, before the command of the King, (arrived on a sub- 
 sequent ship), he took the weary voyagers into his heart and con- 
 fidence. The beauty of Charlotte startled him and her character 
 gradually revealed itself to intensify his admiration. She succored 
 
 47
 
 the slaves, who reverently termed her "Mother," going about 
 among their frail cabins with the comfort of her words, the inspira- 
 tion of religion and substantial relief for their distresses. In her social 
 hours she sang the songs of the Louisiana plantations with quaint 
 mimicry, and the volks-lieder of her own people of Brunswick- 
 Wolfenbiittel. Her spirits, whether still ebullient or affected to 
 beguile her husband and the scant associates of the remote Island, 
 were unfailing and her youth revived in demesnes of peace which 
 was Charlotte's only request of Heaven. She grew to love the spicy 
 groves and orange-blossoms of the Isle, living much out-of-doors 
 for the sake of her delicate daughter whose frailty seemed to have 
 been the accumulation of the mother's years of physical torture and 
 mental agony. The blacks worshipped the great lady and helped 
 her in their humble way to pass many hours in serenity. 
 
 D'Aubant was now risen to the position of sub-Governor and 
 certain offices fell to her lot which revived the rumor that she had 
 been born in a palace. She embraced every opportunity to lighten 
 the labors of her husband and to stimulate the flagging energies of 
 her precious child who grew more and more into the semblance of 
 an angel of the artist's ideal. 
 
 A wooer appeared for Christina's hand, the Chevalier Raoul 
 de la Croix; a youth of personality, courage and excellent address. 
 His heart ran to the feet of the beautiful young girl who, without 
 coquetry, and with the frankness of her noble mother, gave it niche in 
 her tender and faithful breast. Reflecting the maternal piety, the 
 girl was much concerned in the conversion of Ontara, a leader 
 among the Indians of the Island, and to this end and with, Char- 
 lotte's assistance, labored devotedly. To the joy of the zealots 
 Ontara became a priest, giving his life to the salvation of his own 
 people. 
 
 A cloud rose upon the governmental group at Andre when M. 
 de la Bourdonnais was recalled to France in 1 748 to answer in 
 person the accusations of Dupleix, Governor of Pondicherry, and 
 other enemies whom he had excited against the Governor-General. 
 The excellent de la Bourdonnais was confined in the Bastile with- 
 out a hearing, languishing hopelessly in his inability to voice his 
 wrongs. 
 
 His innocence was admitted after several years of useless im- 
 molation and he was set at liberty in 1 752. His health broken and 
 
 48
 
 morale weakened, his fortunes reduced to nothing, he died in 1 755 
 after a painful invalidism. The d'Aubants never saw him after he 
 left the Isle of Bourbon. Following upon this calamity, over which 
 the d'Aubant family were heart-stricken, a more terrible event stole 
 peace from the island-haven. The saintly daughter suffered a de- 
 cline which lifted her soul beyond the cares of earth, and this upon 
 the brink of the new life opening to her with the Chevalier de la 
 Croix. 
 
 The grief on the Island was wide-spread and deep and it was 
 only by the practice of every function of her faith that Charlotte 
 rallied to the comfort of Henri whose grief was extreme. The 
 exiles like themselves scarcely dared speak of the common bereave- 
 ment, thus helping the parents to guard their forces and keep strong 
 for one another; but the slave- folk, the newly redeemed Indian in- 
 habitants, knew grief only to give its exponent, and for months be- 
 wailed the loss of the fair girl. De la Croix could no longer bear 
 the uneventfulness of the colony life, and pressing Charlotte to his 
 heart dashed away upon the first ship which came to port to throw 
 away his life in wars. 
 
 Fate held out one more tragedy for the fortitude of Charlotte 
 but she had been prepared for it by the consecration which seemed 
 to translate her into other spheres than those beneath her. 
 
 In the year 1 754, when her worshipped Henri closed his eyes 
 she reconciled his loss remembering that God had been good in 
 giving him to her for thirty years, which, despite jeopardy and de- 
 fencelessness of position, hardship, sickness, poverty and the loss of 
 their children, had been more replete with love's glamor and delight 
 than fall to the lot of many lovers. 
 
 Charlotte was fifty-nine years of age, still slender and straight 
 and marvelously beautiful, when she sailed from the Isle of Bour- 
 bon for France, alone and without means of subsistence. She 
 sought the humble lodgings in Paris in which she had spent anxious 
 months with her loved ones, but later drifted to Montmartre where 
 she was still living in 1 760. 
 
 It is not known why the princess repaired to Brussels later; 
 perhaps retiracy was more possible there and neither she nor her 
 father's family ever felt that she was secure from international con- 
 cern. The House of Brunswick yielded her an annuity of sixty- 
 thousand florins, three-fourths of which were devoted to benovelent 
 
 49
 
 deeds. She occupied herself with the observances of religion and 
 charities, limited only by the resources of her purse, and there in the 
 rue du Pare, near the Cathedral of St. Gudule, she lived many 
 years without connections, seeking out those in misery, preparing 
 food with her own worn hands and holding before dying eyes the 
 sacrifice upon the Cross. Known as Madame d'Aubant she died 
 in extreme old age, her vigorous constitution unimpaired, and one 
 night simply ceasing to be, the dawn and earliest Mass calling in 
 vain for her regular devotions. She had died happily, for she 
 smiled, and Love brooded over her features, scarcely marred by 
 the iron tread of events; Love that was not mere passion for 
 husband nor adoration of children ; certainly not love of Courts and 
 ermined majesty but love of God and of His erring, ignorant, 
 helpless children in many climes and conditions for whom scorn was 
 not in her gentle heart. 
 
 This is the tale that is, told by the old brown nurses in their 
 patois, on Bayou St. John. New Orleans Creole children are taught 
 to revere the ancient oak whose anchors are slipping from former 
 high ground into the murky waters. Some narrators recount the 
 legend of the tree as having been planted by Charlotte's own hand 
 as a memorial of their meeting; it is also said that the Chevalier 
 d'Aubant planted another oak nearby which rotted away when his 
 breath was stilled on the far-away Isle of Bourbon, but it is just 
 as probable that it was under the full-grown tree that the leal lover 
 set his shrine. Each Spring revives the old bole from which spurt 
 ambitious boughs never again to attain the soaring height of 
 yore. There is no grace to it save the grace! of pity the beholder 
 bestows upon its aborted majesty, but long may nature quicken it 
 with vernal promise to prompt the telling of the story of Charlotte, 
 "The Russian princess who met her lover there" a tale which 
 connects New Orleans by the filmy veil of romance with the history 
 of the world. 
 
 50
 
 THE HOUSE OF TRAGIC MYSTERY 
 
 53
 
 Brother f the Sultan 
 
 Common preface to a Kurdish story: "Once, and 
 more than once, let us pray Allah that His mercy be 
 on our fathers and on our mothers who hear us!" 
 
 N the blaze of an April noon the levee before New Orleans 
 danced colorfully as through a prism. An erratic line of 
 sedulous ants portered sacks, bales and boxes on broad, 
 naked shoulders from the land-rim to the waiting barges. 
 An overseer, leather-colored, proved his Caucasian supremacy by 
 his authoritative commands and the masterful swing of a lash. The 
 plodding human chain quickened at the urge of the voice exple- 
 tives, blasphemies, round curses, stoked lagging energies, while the 
 whirr of the whip occasioned good-natured prancing. 
 
 "Hold up, Boss, Ah'm dar a'ready don't hit me, Boss 
 
 fo' Gawd Ah'm mos' burnt out! Hit Tecumseh, Boss, he's 
 
 layin' down " and a throaty laugh accompanied a skip out of 
 
 the thong's radius. 
 
 The mate snapped at the air in testimony of his danger, dex- 
 trously cutting at the ankles of the next laggard. The upward 
 glancing of the sun from the swarthy river made his eyes wince into 
 beady centres of rutty rays. He was an American, not irascible by 
 temperament, but as love is the intercourse between men and 
 women, so are curses the medium of master and slave and he was 
 presently conforming to the etiquette of his office in his technicali- 
 ties. He snarled and jocosed alternately, driving with a hard bit in 
 the manner mules and negroes must be handled for the expediency 
 of their common economy. The stevedores even sang as they dron- 
 ed under the very nose of the mate; a song of labor in melancholy 
 monotone to which bare feet pattered rhythm. The mate did not 
 
 55
 
 forbid or discountenance. He did not listen, the croon meaning to 
 him an auxiliary to coalesce effort, concertizing of the body-spirit. 
 
 The toilers were not really afraid of their driver: they even 
 liked him and felt no resentment against his attitude of bluster and 
 unappealable injustice at descent of the lash. The negroid scent 
 exuded from ragged flannel and bodies of strained lustihood, as the 
 unvarying line advanced and returned over the gang-plank drip- 
 ping sweat at every step. White teeth broke through thick lips 
 parting over each effort of disburdenment, then invariably a laugh 
 or jest relieved the stress of dead-lifts. Men and mules worked on 
 the same unwearying plane, without subjective planning or responsi- 
 bility but under the instant's prod. And they were not unhappy. 
 
 There were no wharves at that remote day and vessels of all 
 kinds closed up upon the levee as near as their draught of water 
 would permit, clustered in tiers, all having stages to the shore, the 
 outer tiers taking in their cargoes across those that were within. 
 There were upriver steamboats, a long range of Kentucky keel 
 and flatboats, used variously as freighters, hucksters' shops, coopers' 
 shops, dwellings and pigpens. 
 
 Silent, as if the huge current had been heavy oil, the Miss- 
 issippi coursed to the Gulf, turgid, yellow, dangerously dominant. 
 It swept the sun-calcined levee shells and hard, square-edge flooring, 
 throwing back a reek of estival moisture to intensify the languor of 
 the noon. 
 
 The mate held his red handkerchief in the faint breeze to dry 
 but instantly it dropped to his side limply as he gazed down the river 
 at the strange ship that was slow-pacing into port. It's flag was not 
 yet discernible and the vessel's silhouette was unfamiliar even to the 
 river-wise eyes of a steamboatman. His interest in his men slacken- 
 ed the nervous urge; the negroes' efforts at once slowed into 
 drudgery and diminished effectiveness. The American squinted 
 and turned squarely to face the approaching merchantman. The 
 British flag had not been seen on the river for months, few trading- 
 ships came now from Bordeaux, Marseilles and Nantes. This 
 was none of the more frequent vessels from the Island of Hispanola 
 nor yet from Martinique. 
 
 Soon a Crescented pennant pricked foreign color into the tired 
 landscape, magnetizing the loafers under the levee sheds who rub- 
 bed their eyes to look again and yet again at the stately guest. 
 
 56
 
 There was a screech from a tug and an answering boom from 
 the Turkish ship which came steadily on, treading the water cau- 
 tiously as if its assurance strove to dissemble its certain guilt. 
 
 The excitable Spanish and French inhabitants passed the tid- 
 ings quickly, moving toward the landing for which the merchant- 
 man evidently aimed, all business, the sweetness of mid-day repose, 
 forgotten in the imminent event. Only the steady lengths of negro 
 stevedores continued action, moving slower and slower released 
 from encouraging lash and oath, each bent like an Atlas, bearing 
 huge burdens which did not prevent curious eyes, upcast, absorbing 
 sections of the changing scene. 
 
 Thus unheralded entered the Youssef Bey into the yellow 
 Mississippi and before the squat, gray town of New Orleans, in the 
 Spring of the year Seventeen Ninety-Two. 
 
 Her captain looked disdainfully from her bridge upon the 
 Spanish city lying below the level of the river and spat his scorn 
 of the spires of the venerable Cathedral of Saint Louis. He was a 
 seasoned seaman, this Izzeddin, a hard, even a cruel man, a stern 
 disciplinarian as befitted one in mastery of antipathetic assemblies 
 of crews: Greeks and Kurds, Albanians, Rumanians, Turks and 
 even Russians. He had now in hand the most desperate adventure 
 of his seamanship, involving a mighty risk and an adroit polity. 
 Captain Izzeddin set his lips in a thin line and spared an instant for 
 reflection. He had sailed from Istambol on the Sea of Marmora, 
 from the Blue Bosphorus and the men of his faith, and now that the 
 voyage was over he admitted a declension of enthusiasm for strategy 
 and danger and only a disgust for the Christian city to which he was 
 destined. With a mighty pull he recovered his stoicism and screamed 
 his orders above the commotion of debarkation. 
 
 The Spanish port-officer was received with almost royal con- 
 sideration and was responsively lubric in the matter of passports. 
 
 He was offered strange sweets and wines in a manner agree- 
 able to his own ethics of social punctilio. Here, indeed, was a con- 
 siderable guest, for the Turkish merchantman had brought from the 
 wealth of the proud citadel of Cairo : from Bagdad, Kharput, Bey- 
 rut, Constantinople, a cargo of metals and minerals; dates from 
 Basra: figs, olives, oranges, cotton, tobacco, silk, from Anatolia. 
 There was also wine from Adrianople, flavored with its famed 
 
 57
 
 roses; attar of rose as well, carpets from Smyrna, prayer rugs with- 
 out price, and much opium. 
 
 There was a pause after this recital over which the Captain 
 Izzeddin and a very noble gentleman, Iskenden Bey, who was a 
 high functionary, had been condescendingly explicit. The most 
 important business of the day still pended. The terrors and vex- 
 ations of the voyage, the assembling of a vast cargo of treasures, 
 diminished in import before the question asked of the Spaniard with 
 hesitation yet in a driving anxiety. 
 
 It was Iskenden Bey who spoke, measuredly: "We seek", he 
 began, exchanging glances with the several officers about the table, 
 as if for assurance before too far committing himself, "a domicile 
 for one of our number if you would graciously recom- 
 mend " 
 
 "As for that, we have several hotels, among which I can 
 advised the St. Louis and Strangers'," replied the Spaniard, ruffled 
 that the Turks lacked in respect for the accommodations and hos- 
 pitalities of his city. 
 
 There was considerable pause, during which looks were again 
 transmitted from one meaningful eye to another. 
 
 "A hotel would not be convenient," averred Captain Izzeddin 
 with deliberation and a bow from his torso. He spoke haltingly, 
 as if his excellent French were not fluent and that he sought his 
 words. "A particuliere would be more to our liking. Could you, 
 perhaps, without too much derangement, put us in the way of se- 
 curing a suitable house " 
 
 Jacinto Estecheria, the harbor-master, lighted a cigarette 
 tendered by Iskenden Bey. Achmet, a servitor, poured from a 
 flagon the juices of an Egyptian vine. The Spaniard responded to 
 the soothing conditions of his entourage and essayed advice. 
 
 "Ah, yes, there are some houses to be leased, of course," he 
 ventured. "Is it a cottage you desire, for temporary shelter, a small 
 furnished house, or a warehouse for your goods ?" 
 
 Captain Izzeddin scowled darkly, his temper being easily 
 kindled. "Inshallah! May Allah veil your short-comings!" he 
 flared. An advisory look from Iskenden Bey brought him together 
 again and he spoke with more control. "It must be a dwelling, 
 Sefior, of sufficient comfort, even if you have not available in this 
 
 58
 
 poor city one of adequate dignity, to house may he be blest! 
 none less than the Brother of the Sultan!" 
 
 There was a ripple of confusion among the Mussulmen fol- 
 lowing this bold announcement. It had not been timeous and each 
 felt that words had been epochal, fraught as they were with danger, 
 yet not a spokesman present but would have yielded to the passion 
 to set right the officer of this contemptible port to the risk of be- 
 trayal of a sheltered fact. The Spaniard lifted his brows and 
 flushed. Monarchy was in his strain he respected the institu- 
 tion. He rose and bowed obsequiously. 
 
 "I shall be happy to direct you to the Cabildo where we may 
 take the matter of such import under complete advisement," he an- 
 swered, impressively. "At your convenience " 
 
 At once the Spaniard's mind reverted to the boast-place of 
 the town the pretentious home of Monsieur Jean Baptiste Le 
 Pretre, influential citizen half the year, banker and social leader, 
 and for the other half planter of rice, corn and tobacco of fertile 
 Plaquemines Parish. His estate spread broadly away from the 
 banks of the Mississippi, his slaves were without computing, thriv- 
 ing under his own good care and the maternal interest of a wife 
 famed for her beauty, her sprightly daughters and intrepid sons. 
 A high type of French emigre, royal grants and a masterful control 
 of situations and men alike, had earned for Monsieur Le Pretre 
 among the colonists wealth, power and respect. His plantation 
 home was nobly columned, set in a formal garden which occupied 
 Madame and her daughters in the direction of several slaves each 
 morning. Otherwise, they read the French poets, the fashion- 
 journals as they filtered through the mails from Paris; achieved 
 much petit point tapestry and nainsook chemises bemonogrammed 
 and beflowered with skilled needles, convent-trained. They sang 
 the songs of France with the support of harp and piano and for 
 exercise rode the Kentucky thoroughbreds and peppery, startlish, 
 Creole ponies with which the Le Pretre stables were stocked. 
 Through June and to the end of November this life of elegance and 
 ease was enjoyed and then ensued the quickening of the family 
 pulse at the arrival of the first New Orleans newspaper, "Le 
 Moniteur de la Louisiane," with its tidings of the French Opera 
 troupe! These were the signal for last preparations for the winter's 
 social campaign. Sentinel-slaves were stationed at the levee-bank 
 
 59
 
 in relays, to keep watch for the French vessel which would bear 
 the troupe overseas to furnish the first excitement and most intel- 
 lectual pleasure of the Creole population. 
 
 There would be only the lids of the trunks to close oh, so 
 many trunks, with the harvest of velvets, brocades, gossamers and 
 rare laces in costumes that blossomed under the speedy fingers of the 
 demoiselles and their corps of mulattresses, all clever copyists of the 
 Paris ateliers. There must be haste at the last, of course could 
 there be joy without it? and breathless orders to house-servants 
 repeated again and again. The moment the vessel was sighted 
 the stir increased and by the time it came abreast of the plantation 
 a salvo of fire by night or of the reports of arms by day, gave first 
 welcome to the journeying artists. Then were armoirs locked, 
 bureaus cleared of their intimate necessities and mules harnessed 
 for the transportation of luggage and the light-brown house-serv- 
 ants for city-use. Thus was the up-stream journey begun, by steam- 
 boat hailed from the riverbank after days of waiting. 
 
 There would be but a week, then, for the raid on the little 
 French shops of the rue Conde and the rue Royale, before the 
 premiere of the opera! For all their industry there was so much 
 still to be done in their delightful, useless existence; the matching 
 of costumes in slippers, gloves, fans, the acquirement of the latest 
 turbans, most whimsical combs, filmiest fichus. The great house 
 at Orleans and Dauphine streets had previously been made ready 
 for the reception of the family, their free woman of color, Odile, 
 always preceding this annual ponderous vibration between planta- 
 tion and town. The glistering rock-crystal chandeliers had been 
 taken down and days spent in polishing their prisms and setting wax 
 candles in their sockets. Monsieur's office in the basement, termed 
 his bureau, was made inviting for his morning duties, the high- 
 walled, forbidding, therefore enticing, courtyard, received attention 
 that its violet-borders and roses might give their best blossoms to 
 the merry demoiselles. In the grilled basement, even with the level 
 of the banquette or sidewalk because none dared to dig cellars 
 by reason of the imminence of water under the spongy soil there 
 was a richly-stocked wine room to which Odile alone carried the 
 key. As precious to the taste of the ladies Le Pretre, was the chill 
 cell containing a long bathtub of white marble, an unusual luxury 
 in the colony, the use of which being occasion for a rite involving a 
 
 60
 
 bucket-corps from the kitchen's hot-water tank. The play-room, 
 for billiards and cards, was a wainscotted square occupying the bal- 
 ancing half of the basement. 
 
 The mansion above was constructed somewhat in the manner 
 of a Western-Europe home, its high-flung elevation rising pre- 
 cipitously from the sidewalk, palatial in dignity, pompous in its 
 superiority over all its neighbors. The enclosed stairway led into 
 a vestibule which prepared the mind for the internal luxury of the 
 home, the sumptousness of the salons, the mural ornamentation of 
 which was the result of the skill and genius of Halle, Pierre, Berain, 
 come from France for this commission. The parquet was mar- 
 quetry of the odorous woods of lime, cedar and amaranth and was 
 warmed by silken rugs. Huge mirrors alternated panels imprinted 
 with pale jonquil damask touched with aurora and silver. There 
 were several specimens of metal furniture; console-tables in gilt- 
 bronze, pier-glasses of silver gilt, and cabinets of or moulu inset 
 with porphyry, veined lapis lazuli, cornalines, agate, jasper and 
 delicate miniatures, tribute to the goldsmithies of France. Above 
 were mouldings in the style of the Regency, decorative motives such 
 as maskfaced mascarons, cornucopiae with depending garlands 
 swagging with apples and pears of heavy foilage, cartouches and 
 lozenge-formed imbrications with flowers, palm-leaves and ovolos 
 embossed in high relief. The fire-screens and curtain-holders were 
 of metal or crystal in which porcelains and half-precious stones play- 
 ed their decorative part. In the bedrooms the furniture was lux- 
 urious, there being chairs of the type of the fauteuil en confessional 
 and the lit de repos, tufted in taffetas or warm-toned brocades were 
 auxiliary to the sculptured rosewood. There were rare prints of 
 Lebas, Cars and Cochin and each daughter had her tiny oratory 
 with cushioned prie-dieu dedicated to the Blessed Virgin and such 
 saints as were tutelary by virtue of baptismal name, for the Le 
 Pretres were given to prayer as to pleasure. The children's rooms 
 were high above the roof-tops, and were simply hung in chintz of 
 bright colors and oval plaques setting forth familiar religious events 
 the material of creamy plastic composition in the relief of ebony 
 frames. 
 
 In these vast rooms met, throughout the family's winter 
 residence, so soon as the sarcenet and taffeta slip-covers were re- 
 moved from their rich furnishments, the Colony's flower of Spanish 
 
 ; 6i
 
 and French beauty and valor. Laughter chimed over the orchestras 
 that frequently combined in a mellay of music that halted the step 
 of envious passers. Dancing, cards, dinner-parties, there was no 
 restraint upon their number and lavishness. On three evenings a 
 week there were the French opera performances only Monsieur 
 and Madame Le Pretre and the elder sons were attendants at the 
 Sunday bouffe representations! and there were always suppers 
 afterward, sparkled with champagne and Chablis. There were 
 horseback cavalcades and dejeuners at Spanish Fort, reunions at 
 other houses of importance the Carnival ! And with the advent of 
 Lent preparations to return to the plantation, or, if it had been a 
 particularly opulent year for crops, embarkation by the entire family, 
 maids and nurses, direct from New Orleans to Le Havre. It was 
 a life of little effort for such harvestings of plenty, but it did not en- 
 dure and sorrow was the keener by contrast when death and losses 
 came. The mansion is standing still, bereft of its jeweled furnish- 
 ings, no longer lunar with mirrors and marbles y a huge shell filled 
 at night with strange roarings and mystery and encroaching decay. 
 You may see it today: rising on the uptown, river corner outside 
 of New Orleans this would mean, less picturesquely, the northwest 
 corner, but we take little heed of the compass here its high stilts 
 giving clearance for the salons. Its second story of fair proportions 
 were the chambers of Monsieur, Madame, and the coming-out 
 daughters, while on the diminished third floor of the children, sons 
 and nurses, the architect made feasible his difficulty by a compressed 
 embellishment of iron embroideries, valances of delicate wrought- 
 iron festooned beneath the permanent black lace of the balcony. 
 
 In the dependance, or wing, were other servants, the utilities; 
 and all, from salon to cook's quarters, were gallooned with laces 
 and tassels in a state showing solicitous housekeeping. Even 
 among the slaves the rosy light of many a veilleuse on tiny altars 
 tinged the scrupulous white of beds and curtains, showing Madame's 
 influence over Congo superstitions. 
 
 II. 
 
 Iskenden Bey repaired at once to the Cabildo where a cabinet 
 council was held after which, in turn, influence was pressed upon 
 Monsieur Le Pretre whose house, being the most sumptuous in the 
 
 62
 
 province, was therefore most fitting for the residence of royalty. 
 The Le Pretres would be departing from the city soon and an ad- 
 vancement of his routine might not too-seriously discommode them 
 particularly at the mention of the enormous rental offered, even 
 that being subject to augmentation. 
 
 Monsieur Le Pretre consulted his wife, Creole-wise, both de- 
 ciding that above all considerations was the hospitality due so ex- 
 alted a personage during his provisional alienation from his Court. 
 Arrangements were quickly consummated, rent-notes deposited that 
 had been signed by Iskenden Bey and approved, after narration, by 
 the other functionaries of the ship. The friends of the Le Pretre 
 family were informed. There would be no more receptions in the 
 magnificent salons until the autumn, no convocations of the Cap- 
 tain-General, Don Bernardo de Galvez, son of a viceroy, himself 
 a viceroy: Don Manuel Gayoso de Lemos; of the alcades of the 
 Cabildo, St. Denis and De La Chaise; of the Governor, the Baron 
 de Carondelet and the Ambassador de St. Cyr; of the Colonial 
 Prefect Laussat or of the Intendant, Don Ramon de Lopez y 
 Angullo ; of the United States Consul at New Orleans, Mr. Daniel 
 Clark, the Marquis de Casa Irujo and other notables of the 
 province. The social aspects and politics of these turbulent times 
 must have their polite yet fruitful consideration elsewhere. Louis- 
 iana was then the subject of treaty between Spain and France and 
 French decrees were rescinded such as the forbidding by Louis of 
 any grant of land in Louisiana to a citizen of the United States 
 by the dominant representatives of the Court of Madrid. Monsieur 
 Le Pretre felt that he was performing a civic service in yielding 
 his mansion to the brother of the Sultan. The duration of its oc- 
 cupancy was not fixed nor would such an host hasten the departure 
 of such a guest. ( In truth, the Le Pretres resumed occupancy of the 
 house at the usual afflux of French artists in November and some 
 years later, (April 8th., 1833), at a meeting held within its portals 
 was organized the Citizens' Bank, an existent institution.) 
 
 Thus it came about that in the grandiose mansion where 
 Christian piety was domiciled, whence conventional young women 
 issued for daily Mass at the Cathedral three squares away in direct 
 view, little shrines were removed and benitiers that had purified 
 thoughts for holy themes. A steamboat bore the always ex- 
 pectant, always happy sons and daughters to the plantation with 
 
 63
 
 their horde of slaves, the most zealous care of the daughters being 
 the preservation from sunburn of their creamy skins. What had 
 been the horror or, perhaps, the interest, of these convent-bred 
 damsels to learn that into their chaste quarters, converted into a 
 haremlitf, were borne palpitating bundles, which, unrolled, revealed 
 lovely, veiled children younger than themselves: Nefysseh of Alex- 
 andria; Mihrima of Stamboul; Sitta of Aboukir; Djumeila of the 
 Nile and, fairest among them, Butheita the daughter of the Bed- 
 ouins, raped from the desert for a Caliph's beguilement. These 
 veiled women of fourteen or sixteen, were not convoyed to their 
 alien abode till the third day of tireless transportation of bales and 
 boxes from the quay to the mansion. The Turkish ship's hardy 
 crew with Solyman and Mahmoud, trusty officers of Iskenden Bey, 
 to oversee, were porters of the costly cargo. There were carpets 
 from Smyrna and Kuba, buffalo skins, wrought metals for furniture, 
 filagreed fine as honeycomb ; gold, copper, silver, cunningly worked 
 and set with beryl, sapphires, lapis lazuli and pearl in sockets of 
 gold, as also chests of precious stones. The hammals or carriers 
 prepared for the removal of the still more priceless treasures of the 
 harem with lavish procedure. Damascene rugs were spread upon 
 the rough boards of the wharf and variegated awnings set aslant to 
 billow silken grace and protect from view the sheeted and honeyed 
 gazelles of the Orient. Opaquely veiled and with feet encased in 
 high wooden pattens inlaid with silver and ankles bound by silken 
 scarves, the little playthings were lifted by the hammals not in 
 litters draped with native gauzes, but into the best carriages the 
 town afforded, and the panes swathed with iridescent silks. 
 
 When this apparition had passed amid cries of jest and as- 
 tonishment from curious onlookers, a figure poised upon the deck, 
 ready for departure, wrapped, despite the heat in a havlu or 
 burnouse, fringed with gold. He was taller than the men of his 
 race about him, his features milder, less accipitrine of nose. His 
 hair glistened, his eye was keen in the bald glare and his skin was 
 the hue of a burned magnolia-petal. His hands evinced nervousness 
 in their play with his small moustache. He scarcely heeded the 
 reports of his attendants, his glazed eyes pursuing the last carriage to 
 depart from the moorings and he made a movement to follow it, 
 restraining himself with effort. It was the carriage that had borne 
 away the Bedouin Butheita. Now that it had been lost to view 
 
 64
 
 in the maze of the streets he gave orders to expedite his own de- 
 barkation. In the sordid dust of the levee, with the background of 
 the provincial town, the gorgeous figure seemed to have been strip- 
 ped from a vivid canvas. 
 
 Thus went forth to meet destiny the brother of the High- 
 Sultan. 
 
 III. 
 
 Far from mosques of Moslems abode this colorful group of Os- 
 manli, a patch of the East set in the oasis of New Orleans, an agape- 
 mone clustered almost in the shadow of a Cathedral whose intona- 
 tions must be tolerated and replaced mentally by the muezzin-call. 
 Cousrouf Effendi was so inherently a lover of beauty that he gave 
 himself over entirely to the suitable adaptation of the Le Pretre 
 household gods to an abode of love. Mats on the parquetry were 
 strewn with Persian rugs and upon cushions heavy with gold em- 
 broideries, eating of Turkish dainties, beguiling memory and an- 
 ticipation with their perfumed cigarettes, reclined Nefysseh and 
 Mihrima; Djumelia and Sitta and the spoils of a Bedouin raid, 
 Butheita: enhanced with rosy textiles and gems that once had be- 
 decked the daughters of the Pharoahs. He directed the Nubian 
 eunuchs in the disposal of betasseled shawls and himself gave the 
 artist-twist to the draperies of striped silks and cotton stuffs from 
 Gugerat and Constantinople. In a few days, by the magic of many 
 instant hands, the brother of the High-Sultan was fully established, 
 in a seraglio on cobblestones! A tiny Osmanli in a piously dog- 
 heretical vicinage! 
 
 The economy of the haremlify was fairly orthodox, though 
 no Imam (priest) was comprised in the royal suite. Golden 
 censers were lighted with regularity and rich flavors of cassia, 
 spikenard, camphire, saffron, bay and fir, permeated the entire 
 house in propitiation of the good Djins and in exorcism of the 
 Christian saints. 
 
 Daily were the five little houris lathered with honey and 
 various aromatic condiments to impart to them strength and beauty, 
 the tedium of that salutary hour-long rite enlivened by conversation 
 and chanted gazels. Oil of myrrh and hyssop, fragrant sandal- 
 oil and perfumed ointments were applied to the perfect young 
 bodies, after which they were wound in fair Egyptian linens for ac- 
 
 65
 
 cubation or repose. No Spanish beauty of the Colony was so 
 guarded nor her health so cossetted nor were the manners of the 
 French ladies more tempered with gentleness and patience. 
 
 Here whiled away his days Cousrouf Effendi, among the 
 pretty children who played not with toys or picture-books but with 
 silver jewel-boxes and mirrors, at coloring their lips with cochineal 
 and cheeks with spiced cordials; tinting their palms with henna as 
 also the nails of their fragile hands and feet. Cousrouf loved the 
 patter of their small red velvet shoes,' the lustre of their chains of 
 priceless pearls, the throb of topaz, beryl and opal in the buckles 
 they wore. They played at pretty gambling among themselves, 
 these prisoners of love, with loose turquoises, garnets, corals and 
 hyacinths, winning or losing indifferently, since they, gems and 
 maidens, belonged but to one. 
 
 The formal and austere etiquette of court and military routine 
 were greatly modified by the Effendi who was tranquillized by the 
 novelty. Iskenden Bey, chamberlain or castellan, resided on the 
 topmost story and of him servants asked orders, imposing him 
 between the Sultan's brother and the seamy essentials of living. 
 Mameluke Bey was appointed emissary between mansion and ship, 
 reporting for the desires of his master in the matter of food, of 
 pleasure, and always there were couriers plying in search of com- 
 fort for his royal Effendi : Ibrahim and Toussoom, Ismail and Has- 
 san, Achmet and Amurath, anticipated their master's wants, im- 
 pressed with their honor as purveyors to the sarechsme the honored 
 one, the brother of the High-Sultan! 
 
 Even the cosmopolitan little city was aghast at the free ex- 
 penditures of the juliks, yirmileks and paras from the Turkish cof- 
 fers there could be no end of them though they made largesse of 
 jewels! Only the choicest foods could be set upon the table of 
 the Effendi and of those who served Allah in serving him. 
 
 The white mansion, always a center of keen interest, now 
 became the object of universal inquiry throughout the city. Every 
 excuse was invented to pass it and repass, by the glimmer of lanterns 
 by night, since the streets were not otherwise lighted, and despite the 
 glows of the daily suns. None was rewarded nor was anything 
 reported save now and then a suspected movement behind close 
 blinds, a formless movement that must have been actuated by muf- 
 fled houri or eunuch! 
 
 66
 
 All officers and servants entered and departed by the court- 
 yard gate and even these were objects of zealous curiosity. Rumors 
 were rife concerning the household, suppositions were constructed 
 and possible costumes detailed by the temperamentalists. Return- 
 ing from a rout a band of youthful pleasurers, afoot, guided by a 
 slave carrying a lantern, saw a carriage gallop from the door, the 
 spirited horses slipping cruelly as they were hurried over the Belgian 
 stones. Were the houris riding out for air while all the town slept? 
 Unsaving of repose the group set themselves the task of awaiting the 
 return of the carriage, on this risk; but they wearied and crept 
 sullenly home unrewarded, before the dawn. So the house of 
 little living ghosts sheltered its aliens in a kind of happiness which 
 takes no account of the future and strives to forget the past ; and the 
 merry but sage odalisques made no revolt in their immurement, 
 looking upward to the stars and pressing from them the vulgar and 
 distracting, the glares and hurts which must not befall those elect 
 for the pleasuring of a brother of the High-Sultan. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Of an evening Cousrouf lay upon a couch veiled with cash- 
 mere and a prayer Feraghan amid soft cushions of tiftik or silk 
 waste, dreaming of the pyramids of Gheezeh and thrilling to the 
 memories of embattled Damanhour. Thus he revived old alliances 
 which he had sacrificed forever by this adventure: Halim Pasha 
 whose life he had saved on the shores of Praousta: the /al?a of 
 the viceroy, whose head had bended with his own over the philoso- 
 phies of Koran. He loved his Osmanli and mourned that Cavalla, 
 Petresin, Boulak, the vilayets of Syria, would never again fill his 
 ardent gaze. He had ever been feverish for action, had met every 
 combat with distinction : but statesmanship had wearied him and the 
 alternative of fighting had been love, such love as had now 
 brought him to a strange, prosaic land of uncongenialities, where 
 all of Turkey he might ever know again lay under the Sultan's 
 standard in the Mississippi River! 
 
 "By the great prophet, Mohammed whose name be 
 
 glorified! 1 must not repine"! cried Cousrouf aloud. There 
 
 was movement about him instantly, a subtile approach that awaited 
 possible repulse, the while proffering surcease from chagrins, com- 
 
 67
 
 fort, diversion. But only the soft clash of gold anklets and the 
 rhythm as of tiny bells broke the dense peace. Cousrouf smiled 
 upon the tender, silken, beguiling creatures and gestured his 
 welcome. 
 
 "My gazelles, my white doves, you are as figs to famished 
 lips", he cried, gratefully, 'as a goatskin of royal wine to my thirst. 
 By the holy temple of Mekka you are empire to me; all-sufficient. 
 I was dreaming of olive trees and sycamores, and the tents marging 
 the battlefield .... It was wrong, for heaven is truly here. Sing to 
 me, Butheita, Songbird! fetch your instrument, my Rose of Para- 
 dise!" 
 
 The desert-girl flew to a tabouret where reposed her zam- 
 marah bisoan, a goatskin supplemented by a little bagpipe. To Oc- 
 cidental ears the music was not mellow, but rather shrill as it ca- 
 denced the stances of the girl's own gazels and startled awake the 
 tremors of country-love and longing which had disquieted Cousrouf : 
 
 "In my bare tent I have only bread for my man-love; 
 
 But if he love me he will eat it for dates. 
 
 So does Love transform ugliness into beauty, 
 
 Sacrifice into delight. 
 
 The Ottoman Empire is mightiest of all 
 
 For in it rules Allah, il Allah! 
 
 The High-Sultan, king of kings, is but Allah's foot-stool. 
 
 In my bare arms there are hopes for my man-love ; 
 
 If he love me he will summon embraces 
 
 That will banish his sickness for home and friends 
 
 And weary him sweetly through ecstasy. 
 
 Far is he from his loyal Osmanli 
 
 But Love shares exile with ermine 
 
 As with beggars who beg Love's responses. 
 
 Mirage holds its prisms to my man-love; 
 
 The wastes of the desert .... the palms .... 
 
 The loves that bring warmth .... Great is High-Sultan 
 
 The swift dromedary at tether .... but not there 
 
 And greater is Cousrouf Effendi! 
 
 For in a new land has he empire 
 
 My heart is his ready footstool." 
 
 68
 
 His eyes swimming with tears at the maiden's improvisation, 
 Cousrouf beckoned. She rose from her mass of pillows and as she 
 approached there was audible the susurrance of faint bells. He 
 took her hand and placed her on the couch beside him, deftly re- 
 moving the cuffei from her hair. 
 
 "Allah Akbar! I swear by the Mosque of the Ommayedes. 
 by the tomb of Saladin, that you are beloved of Cousrouf, White 
 Dove," cried the lover. "I cannot compute my love nor can you 
 yours. All you have sung is true. Allah whose name be glori- 
 fied! must have heed of such mighty emotions as ours, love for 
 which Cousrouf ventured all and reconciles exile. I am refreshed 
 by your song and will banish aught save the present happiness." 
 
 On gold dishes with turquoise, garnets and chalcedony inset, 
 and from silver vessels the brother of the High-Sultan dined on 
 strange viands of mysterious preparation ; cheese from Basra, sweets 
 of flowery flavors. That most patrician blood of the vine, bottled 
 in gold in the Orient to be served only in goblets of aureate metal, in 
 curious flagons of yellow gold, provided warmth to the entertain- 
 ment, the purpose of the feast veiled in the glamors of occasional 
 songs and the narration of legends. The attars of a thousand roses 
 were released in the vaulted salons and soft lights spread from onyx 
 lustres and sconces. 
 
 Butheita the Bedouin shared the divan with her lord, prof- 
 fering cakes and pomegranate wine and thick, unsweetened coffee, 
 meek but alluring with her confuting looks, yet ever yielding her 
 wild spirit submissive to his passion. 
 
 While Djumeila sang a Kurdish mountain-song Butheita made 
 bold to ask her lord testimony of his love and Cousrouf swore lealty 
 with the triple oath, seizing Butheita's waist, pressing her close. 
 He joyed in Djumeila, she of the Nile and Sitta of Aboukir; Ne- 
 fysseh the Alexandrian and Mihrima of Stamboul but a tenderer 
 emotion answered the wild daughter of the Bedouin chief; the 
 breath of siroccos, Butheita, his spoil of battle who had fought 
 him and baffled him and made of him slave, traitor, expatriate. 
 
 He was in the mood for largesse and rose and opened one of 
 the carved chests nearby, one containing precious stones which shot 
 back many-colored fire from polished facets in the flare of gold- 
 filagree candlesticks. With a gesture Cousrouf invited acceptance 
 of the treasures revealed. Jeweled vessels and lamps threw color 
 
 69
 
 into the soft taper-light, daring to suggest meretriciousness could 
 there, indeed, be so many gems unmined in all the world? The 
 child-women scarcely stirred at the sparkle; they had been inured 
 to the touch of gold at their lips, the contact of lustrous pearls upon 
 their bosoms, of imperial emeralds on their arms, as befitted those 
 sharing the love of the mighty one. It was in the day's routine to 
 hang ropes of rubies round and round their throats in complement of 
 raiment of flushed Damascene silks and buckles of diamonds to 
 clasp their veils. They did not contend amongst themselves for 
 possession of any bauble, for the jewels, like unto Nefysseh, and 
 Sitta, Djumeila and Mihrima, belonged all to their lord and they 
 sought only his approval and composure. And so solely and ar- 
 dently they loved, each would have drunk from a crock at his 
 instance had he not deemed lips that drank from aught save golden 
 goblets unworthy his own. 
 
 The scene was one of surpassing richness, the tasteful French 
 type of the Le Pretre furnishments supplemented by superb rugs 
 and tapestries upon the walls while costly weaves softened the foot's 
 fall. From an open coffer gleamed sequins, piastres, medjidiehs, 
 to tease miserliness or profligacy. Neither did these stir the Flowers 
 of Desire their ease was too absolute, their peace too certain. 
 Thus does the Mussulman equip his Paradise and make hourly 
 acknowledgment therefor to Allah. 
 
 V. 
 
 The tropical serenity of this interior was not reflected into the 
 cabin of the Youssef Bey on this September evening. Iskenden 
 Bey, long in viceregal service, strode the confines of the salon in 
 unrestrained agitation while the Captain, Izzeddin, watched him 
 like a predatory animal, his eyes sharp and narrow above his eagle- 
 nose. The passion of Iskenden Bey was frank, the attitude of the 
 Captain, crafty. There was manifestly a crisis between them and 
 each willing to sacrifice the other in the desperate juncture. 
 "Nothing so daring as this has been attempted since Othman 
 May Allah save him! founded the Empire," shouted Iskenden 
 Bey, arresting his pendulum-swing to and fro in the cabin-walls. 
 "Must the dynasty of Selim Third be so dishonored? There is 
 
 70
 
 no reason in it! It is not ease and wealth that tempts the heroic 
 soldier such as Cousrouf." 
 
 Captain Izzeddin chuckled enviously. "It is the stupidity of 
 a Kurd to believe it," he answered. 
 
 Iskenden Bey strode on, talking loudly, angrily. "Tonight the 
 Divan, the twelve superior ministers of the Grand-Sultan, are con- 
 vened. What will be their decree? Allah, il Allah, nothing is 
 terrible when you are near it is the u'nknown, the with-held, the 
 suspense, the possibility of anything happening which makes one 
 
 welcome the alternative suicide. But I will not invite that 
 
 exigency yet I am driven mad as I review those grim pashas sit- 
 ting in deadly deliberation. Do you not see what is passing tonight 
 at Istamboul? The Grand Vizier, the Sheik-ul-Islam and the 
 council of ministers who adjudge Cousrouf Effendi, who hate 
 me and who would make garlands of our heads on the high- 
 ways along with common traitors! The face of Selim on whom 
 be peace! is terrible, dark with rage and unaccomplished revenge. 
 What will not the long arm of the Sultan do? His reach is to 
 everness and the warning of Gabriel. Allah! Do you not realize 
 the magnitude of this crime that you sit and smile? Plan and plot, 
 fool, or you soon will be crow's food. Are you already beyond 
 the power to feel?" 
 
 The eagle eyes narrowed. "You entered fairly into the pact 
 with His Effendi", answered the captain, calmly through tense, 
 purple lips. "Why weaken now? You might have anticipated 
 this outcome. Cousrouf is not so unimportant that his absence 
 would be overlooked, as also the filching of the millions in gems 
 and piastres. Were you not paid enough for your transfer of 
 loyalty? I am a seaman. I do not parry sentiments. As well as 
 
 yourself do I know the penalty of this adventure if "we are 
 
 overtaken. This is not the hour for suspense but for action." 
 
 Iskenden Bey dropped into a seat across the table and looked 
 fully into the cunning eyes of his companion, seeking to discern his 
 meaning, not daring to give voice to his own half-formed purpose. 
 
 Captain Izzeddin did not wince, but shrugged in relief of the 
 intense feeling within. He strove to treat it lightly. "After all, 
 what are the piastres and uncountable treasure of jewels to so 
 mighty a One as the High-Sultan," he essayed; "he would never 
 require them, though I will admit that too many chests were 
 
 71
 
 amerced, we will say though the Royal Effendi was quite justi- 
 fied, while the matter was in transaction, in making the rash adven- 
 ture really startling. There must be many millions of this Spanish 
 exchange in medjidiehs alone; and the serving-vessels, rugs from 
 Ispahan, Oushaks, Kashans, jewels " His eyes glittered cruelly, 
 prospectively. 
 
 "They are as nothing!" broke in Iskenden Bey. "The Grand- 
 Sultan would condone the indign theft and weep as Cousrouf Pasha 
 asked forgiveness if you can picture this royal rascal in a broken 
 spirit! Man! Are you a Kurd peasant that your intelligence does 
 not reckon with the more retributive plundering of the seraglio of the 
 High-Sultan?" Iskenden Bey brought his fist upon the table, set- 
 ting the bottles and glasses into a clatter with his fury. The Cap- 
 tain Izzeddin sat up stiffly and his meaningless, conformable smile 
 waned. 
 
 "You are right," he muttered, and looked about him cautious- 
 ly. "Only Death can reprieve such apostasy. Such is the law of 
 Islam!" Iskenden Bey was somewhat pacified by the rising spirit 
 of the Captain and gave it further pursuit. 
 
 "It is well that you have come into a realization of the train 
 of evils inevitable to this gigantic blunder," said the noble, "for our 
 days are few. Time gallops upon us and it is with our own ex- 
 patriation that we must concern ourselves, yours that of the brave 
 men who have engaged in this misadventure without personal ques- 
 tion. Neither can think out the exigent course without including 
 such of our men as we may depend upon." 
 
 "There is already unrest among them," admitted the Captain, 
 gravely." 
 
 Iskenden Bey reflected/' His Royal Effendi celebrates the 
 breaking of the Fast of Ramazan tomorrow and has bidden such 
 persons of importance and their wives as he desires to show a return 
 of courtesies. Invitations with bottles of sherbet, have been deliver- 
 ed by the musidadjis. I am here with Mahmoud and Raghib os- 
 tensibly for the purpose of ordering the feast of True Believers. 
 The best of the ship's cooks must come to the aid of Ibrahim, and 
 your best servers. For music, send Ismail, Toussoom, Achmed and 
 Osman. Cousrouf Effendi desires a sumptuous repast and the rarest 
 of the royal wines that have been bottled only in gold, and of divers 
 
 72
 
 vintage. It is understood? Now let us go further into our own 
 difficulties that lie beyond the sybarite's revel." 
 
 "One may always mask his ship in black and fly the pirate's 
 flag", said Captain Izzeddin in a whisper. "It is the way of losing 
 one's identity that may save one's head! Truly, one must fear the 
 
 long arm of the High Sultan " He spat fiercely. "May 
 
 Cousrouf, son of Satan be accursed and Selim continue the messen- 
 ger of Allah whose name be glorified!" 
 
 VI. 
 
 In all parts of Islamyeh awakeners rouse the haremlik a half- 
 hour before dawn, beating little drums, singing verses and bidding 
 the Faithful to take their last meal before sunrise for the Fast of 
 Ramazan. This is an annual observance and strictly kept and the 
 conclusion of Ramazan is celebrated by the Festival of the Breaking 
 of the Fast which lasts three days in which no work is done. 
 Presents are sent out to the poor and to all in employment by their 
 masters. 
 
 Cousrouf Effendi pursued his usual plans for the feast inso- 
 far as the limitations of his environs permitted, distributing gifts 
 widely and beseeching the co-operation of the town's officials as 
 his almoners. 
 
 There had been many civilities offered, a few accepted, and 
 the generous prince held a pious desire to return hospitalities to 
 his consociates. 
 
 With the orgy of rich, mysterious foods and sparkling wines 
 of the Djemiet the five child-women had naught to do. Indeed, 
 throughout the brilliant evening they crouched, laughing softly, on 
 the third floor of the old mansion, in the dark whence, now and then, 
 themselves invisible, they dared espial of bits of the scene below 
 just as children the world over are wont to do when their elders 
 receive guests. 
 
 The little women did not suspect that they were being slighted 
 in the festivity, rather that they were mercifully safeguarded against 
 much vulgarity, boldish foreign women and curious appraisal. 
 They loved their master the more that he protected their peace in 
 immurement. Eunuchs brought to their eyry gold platters, begem- 
 med, with Turkish sweets, apotheosized dates and exotic wines, 
 
 73
 
 and the maidens played and nibbled much as Caucasian girls do 
 when entertaining at tea. 
 
 The salons were thronged by many of the town's good people, 
 whatever their motives, members of the Ancient French families, 
 grandees representing the Escurial to whom Louis XV had ceded 
 "the continent" of Louisiana in 1 762, in indemnity of the expenses 
 of war: Spanish Donas, titled French matrons and radiant Creole 
 belles thrilling to the new experience, flashed sallies at the Turkish 
 officers, even daring to flirt with Cousrouf himself! It was a titil- 
 lating occasion and no element of it irritated the sensibilities of the 
 most fastidious. Instead, eyes widened at the unheard-of luxury 
 of the appointments and the sumptuousness of the entertainment. 
 Members of the Superior Council composed of the Duke of Alba, 
 Don Jaime Masones de Lima, Don Juan Gregorio Muniain, Don 
 Miguel de Muzquiz, the Count of Aranda, the Baron Don Julian 
 de Arriaga and the Marquis of San Juan de Piedras, were present 
 in full regalia. The French King's Attorney-general Nicolas 
 Chauvin de Lafreniere; Urissa, Intendant of the Colony and 
 hidalgos such as the Count de Fuentes, the Marquis of San Juan 
 de Piedras Albas and the Marquis of Gramaldi. There were also 
 high-dignitaries and patricians among the French; the Chevalier- 
 lieutenant De La Ronde, Le Breton, late guardsman in Louis' 
 household troops, Foucault, the Intendant Commissary, Etienne de 
 Bore, de Boisblanc, de Lavillebeuvre, Captain Judice, Andre 
 Verret, Aubry, De Noyau, Villere. 
 
 No names more brilliant shone in this dependency of the 
 Spanish Crown. 
 
 Knowing no other method, the Turkish routine in the treatment 
 of a distinguished assemblage was punctiliously pursued, even to 
 the passing of silver basins for laving of hands before the banquet. 
 Attendants in native Osman dress were vividly numerous and with 
 gold goblets refreshed the convives with royal wines. Platters of 
 gold offered toothsome viands and mystical combinations; there 
 were pilaf of wheat instead of rice; djadfy, cheese savored thickly 
 with prickly herbs served on silver sofras; spiced wine of pome- 
 granite ;loukmas, a favorite Turkish baignee; sherbets of fruits, 
 candy and spices, delectably composed; cakes and delicacies fol- 
 lowed by thick coffee; cigarettes from Anatolia and finally the 
 hochaf tray with crystal bowl and ivory spoons. The Turkish 
 
 74
 
 people as a race are genially hospitable and with every copious 
 serving each guest was wished: "Shifalu olsun!" (May it be to 
 your health ! ) 
 
 The unfamilar, wildly sweet music of the ship's players 
 charmed away the night, leaving only one flaw in the memory of 
 the curious who would have pierced the veils of retiracy and re- 
 vealed the beauties reputed to be without number in the haremlik 
 of Cousrouf Effendi. Useless the spying and adroit attempts to 
 discover a glimpse of these holy-of-holies. The kingly host was 
 towardly, incomparably thoughtful, but it was beyond reason to 
 attempt familiarities in intercourse with him. His handsome turban- 
 ed head, distinguished from all others, his noble bearing differen- 
 tiating him though he had worn no uniform and decorations, the 
 grace of his tophaike swung over his shoulder, made of him a being 
 to admire, revere and to set apart. With him there was no witty 
 jest possible, nor amorous reference. His hostship was impeccable 
 and none dared to trip before his certain rebuff. 
 
 VII. 
 
 When the last guest had been sped with recommendations to 
 the Paradises of Mohammed, Cousrouf doffed his mask of facile 
 chivalry and sought the repose needed to tranquillize a brain teem- 
 ing with ruminations. He threw himself upon his rahat lataJf or 
 couch of ease, tufted with the heavy carpets of Bokhara, a Shiraz, a 
 Konia and thickly-woven camel's hair cloth. There was the rumor 
 of bells in the quiet, perhaps the tinkling of talismans of his maidens 
 stirred at the release from their joyous prison above. 
 
 How incomplete had been this djemiet far from the home of 
 True Believers, the faithful of Mohammed on whom be peace! 
 Where the maps and cressets, the splashes of blue and red fires, 
 the gay caiques darting over the waters of the Bosphorus, the scin- 
 tillations of Stamboul, coruscant with tiny oil lamps around the 
 portals and windows of houses, festooned from minaret to minaret 
 or hung in triple coronals around their pinnacles? Their glow even 
 now thrilled him and he fairly saw the lambent blue flames inter- 
 spersed with showers of pyrotechnic gold which makes of the break- 
 ing of the Fast of Ramazan the spiritual joy of the year, justifying 
 all other indulgences. 
 
 75
 
 Over the cobble-stones rumbled an early milk-cart in mockery 
 of his Levantine revery. He who had shone at tthe surrender of the 
 Acropolis, whose sword was strongest of stroke in the Greek Revo- 
 lutions and the uprisings of the lawless, tyrannical Mamelukes, how 
 could he continue to face maddening latency, supine indulgences, 
 far from his army? He knew his brother, Sehm III to be inefficient, 
 unequal to the quelling of vice-regal revolts that Beys and 
 Agas provoked, though masterful in reforms. The powerful and 
 crafty Iconian, Mehemet Ali, Pasha of Three Tails and Vizier of 
 Egypt, was lawlessly arrogant toward his master the Sultan while 
 professing loyalty to the Porte and in covenant with it a nominal 
 vassal but most dangerous foe. Selim had used his influence with 
 his Divan in reorganizing the military and political systems of the 
 Empire, reforms in which he progressed notwithstanding the inimical 
 attitude of the body of the Ulema; ridding the army of the old 
 janissaries of the Barbary States who were cankers as irritants in 
 their withdrawn allegiance. He, Cousrouf, knew better than his 
 brother the formidable leader of the janissaries, Osman Pasvan 
 Oglu and his caitiff appeal in crafty counsels and he flushed 
 with shame that his own faculty to countervail, give understanding 
 and force to his country's problems, was not at this crisis at the service 
 of the House of Othman. More insistent grew the realization of 
 his own treachery in solitude as his ambition soared back to the 
 Black and Baltic Seas and in memory engaged in Slavic combat. 
 
 A tender chime of amulets broke into his melancholy and by 
 the gleam of a ruby lamp Butheita, his fairest fondling, smiled with 
 soft daring. 
 
 "Salaam Aleifyum!" (Peace be with you!) she whispered. 
 
 "Khosh gueldiniz !" (On thee be peace!") answered the 
 courtly lover, and forgot his pain and all else save his Bedouin spoil. 
 
 The maid sank upon the silken shalvar spread before the 
 couch, the studs of gold bordering her veil rapping lightly against 
 the polished floor. 
 
 "It was not Butheita who wounded the repose of my lord with 
 fena guz and holy amulets and nazar, in prevention of the Evil Eye. 
 No, Effendi, the chime was of the Ev-Sahibi, the good Djinns who 
 are masters of the house. Surely the Christian maids and the sahib 
 who lived here were not so happy as we for they had only their 
 
 Christian saints is not our master favored in the protection 
 
 76
 
 of a special Djinn appointed by Allah to wait upon him? I would 
 tell thee, Effendi, that your Butheita has been given the blessing of 
 sight by our good Djinns "the girl lowered her voice reverent- 
 ly for who could tell when spirits are near? "Yea, I have seen 
 them flitting happily and busily about the dwelling, clothed in 
 bridal vestitures, edged with tiny silver bells. This is the tinkling 
 melody one hears which announces their passage through the house. 
 Thus have I seen them, Effendi, by their so-great favor." 
 
 "Happy those who believe", murmured Cousrouf, enchanted 
 by the deep music of the maiden's Arabic. 
 
 "Ah, but you believe, Effendi, say that you believe. 
 Butheita could not lie. Every hour we have proof; for like most 
 Supernals, the Djinns may assume any form they desire and they 
 take possession of our copper utensils mischievously to confound the 
 cook; of scimetars, tray-stands, pitchers, braziers, stools and even 
 brooms! Is it not wonderful to know such perfect fellowship with 
 condign spirits? We know not the Djinns of Evil who follow Eblis 
 but even the good Djinns and Pens who serve Allah are whimsical 
 with pranks and make intolerable noises at times. Wilt thou believe 
 it was they who titillated the air, not the talismans and charms of 
 talleh (destiny) of thy bride?" 
 
 Vanished were the aspirations of the man's patriotism and per- 
 sonal ambition, dissolved in the lure of a tent-maiden's tones. 
 Cousrouf turned his eyes full upon her, removing the bish of blue 
 satin overfolding her gauze chemise and silken trousers and the 
 chlmber or coif of variegated gossamer which crowned her sleek 
 black hair. He held her by the large clasps of jeweled gold con- 
 fining her waist where clung flowers simulated of tinted crepes, 
 perfumed with acacia. 
 
 "Mashallah! but thou art fair!" exclaimed Cousrouf, rising 
 upon his couch of ease; 'Thou art indeed like a full moon, my 
 symbol of joy, my rose. Thou art of elegance like the cypress yet 
 have I plundered thee of thy setting in the gardens of Mohammed, 
 among the lime and plane, the pomegranate, the ilanthus and mul- 
 berry, to cast thee down among Khafirs infidels whom may Allah 
 confound at the last day!" 
 
 A sob broke from the kneeling child, his sympathy momentarily 
 compelling weakness in acute memory. Bending, she kissed the 
 
 77
 
 feet of Cousrouf and with lowered head strove to recover her selfish 
 outburst in soothing. 
 
 "Ay, now if thou art oppressed with sorrow thou mayest not 
 seek consolation at the graves of Holy Men. But have we not 
 our nazar and engraved stones brought from the holy cities 
 of Mekka, Medina and Damascus, or from the tombs of Hadji 
 Bektash and Hadji Bairam? Courage, my lord. Thou are fever- 
 ish. I will prepare thee a tisane of maiden-hair fern whilst thou 
 makest invocation to the Prophet or the Khalif AH, on whom be 
 peace!" 
 
 Cousrouf clutched a scarf as she rose, bringing her down to his 
 couch. He addressed her solemnly, holding her as in a vise. 
 
 "My God is Allah; my Prophet Mohammed; my religion 
 Islam and my love is Butheita!" he swore by the Hadith or Tra- 
 ditional Sayings of Mohammed, and spat to give emphasis to his 
 oath. 
 
 A tear fell upon his swart hand and the maiden strove to 
 rise again. 
 
 "I have prepared a comforting passage from the Koran and it is 
 here, my lord, soaked in this vessel containing water of the Jordan. 
 Drink of it, Planet-of-my-heaven, and wear another device, this 
 nushfya, an amulet against evil." 
 
 "What hast thou written from Koran, gazelle?" asked 
 Cousrouf, moved by her earnestness and by the omens thick in their 
 thoughts. 
 
 The girl read : 
 
 "Sory, / fly for refuge unto the Lord of the Daybreak, 
 that he may deliver me from the mischief of those things 
 which he hath created and from the mischief of the night 
 when it cometh on, and from the mischief of Women blow- 
 ing on knots and from the mischief of the envious when he 
 envieth." 
 
 Cousrouf shrank with the prescience of impending evil and 
 sought comfort in the maiden's luscious mouth, releasing her to in- 
 spire her depression. 
 
 "Allah has inscribed on the brow of every human being, in 
 invisible characters, his decree of death", he said softly. "Allah 
 is wise to withhold interpretation of these Signs from us. May the 
 Cup-bearer of the Sphere long pass thee by, and overlook Cousrouf, 
 
 78
 
 too, that we may long love and long praise, Allah. O my bride, 
 until thou earnest to slake my thirst, life was but warfare and a 
 weary Fast of Ramazan. To meet was Kismet and now I would 
 place thee to ensure thee in a high tower of pearl amid ivory palaces 
 that could not reflect the clamors of the world. I would hold thee 
 by chains of gold and a moat all about and I would compass deep 
 channels if but thy lips of rubies shone over the dark waters." 
 
 Horses slid over the cobblestones before the house, regained 
 control under the lash and command of their driver, dashing out to 
 the ramparts. Others followed, bearing fiery contenders to the 
 dueling-ground beyond the city and the Bayou, whether in the 
 cause of love or revenge, a concrete drama awaiting its imminent 
 last curtain. 
 
 "Put me not away if thou share not my banishment", cried 
 Butheita. 'Else must I seek the holy society of female dervishes 
 and know the world no more. And shouldest thou die my spirit 
 would visit thee with our Moslem angels, Mounkir and Nekir when 
 they enter thy grave to question thee concerning thy faith. Oh, 
 great is my love for thee, Cousrouf Effendi!" 
 
 The man rose and bending kissed the girl's knees, then drew 
 from his lips sugar which he had taken from a golden cup, convey- 
 ing it to hers to symbolize the harmony which should ever exist 
 between them. 
 
 "Thy love is no secret to Cousrouf," he murmured, "for thou 
 hast made joy of thy present exile and heartened the breast that 
 would have ceased to breathe but for thee. At the hour of the 
 fifth namaz thou hast no Imam to recite thee prayers, O Moon, 
 yet art thou by deeds most faithful in Islamisme. Cousrouf has no 
 aspirations beyond the confines of the garden of which thy heart 
 is the sun." He moved to a kind of low table of walnut-wood in- 
 laid with mother-of-pearl and silver, plunging his fingers into a 
 crystal bowl, the rite of ablest, or ablution, before prayer. Throw- 
 ing the maiden's scarf down for a prayer-rug he knelt upon it 
 he, Cousrouf, the brother of the High-Sultan, thus lowering his 
 estate and glorying in his blasphemy. 
 
 "Cur stars have met and rejoiced, Vineyard of my life-sap, 
 Wine-press of new wine! Thy presence exalts this strange city of 
 mutual exile, and I wear no lilac for a world dead henceforth to me. 
 Without thee my heart would cease beating with yearning for the 
 
 79
 
 stroke of the sword and the outdoor incenses of aloes, of cedar, of 
 myrrh and cinnamon. Where now is my spirit of adventure, my 
 passion for the fight, my lealty to Osmanli? Thou hast dulled my 
 sword and cast my glory in fragments. Camest thou from thy 
 father's tent to wreak this miracle? O Lamp of my feet, I joy in thee 
 as in an incessant well. Change not to a subtile guilt, my Simoon of 
 the desert, whose beauty blinds me as smoke to the eyes. Thy 
 purity pricks my tenderness to tears. Chide me never that the 
 thought of your submission to the High-Sultan terrified my soul 
 which had never before known fear. Only for me were you 
 wrought, by me you were made booty of a raid. Why are we to- 
 night amid aliens and strange tongues? Thou art the origin of this 
 mad flight, thou and the sweet sharers above whom, too, we love." 
 
 A subtle note, weird like a cicada's struck the dark outer 
 night. 
 
 "What is that?" whispered the desert-girl, shuddering and 
 seizing her master's hands. 
 
 The sharp note came again. The girl leaned forward, fixed 
 with fear. "It is the trained call of some mocking-bird", reassured 
 Cousrouf, though he listened again and held his peace. 
 
 All was silent and presently the susurrance of tiny, distant 
 bells returned their uneasy thoughts to the comfort of the interior. 
 
 "What is there to fear, O Ruby, since we are together and 
 even Death offers only release for more indicible loving? Thou 
 art so strange to me, even now ; so unlike these clamorous women of 
 Spain and France. O Nightingale, what is written on the parch- 
 ment of thy heart Cousrouf? Lovest thou even thy captivity, 
 
 O Fawn? Is my Doe weaned from her desert-tents? Answer not. 
 Thy denials would be the piercings of the broken blade and of the 
 shield cast aside, nor could I bear thy feigned lips. Once thy cold- 
 ness did afflict me but now thy rebuke would leave me desolate." 
 
 The maiden heard every word, but still she leaned, taut with 
 an unformed dread, listening, too, for the retreating peal of faraway 
 silver melodies from tiny bells. 
 
 "Heed naught save the holiness of our night!" the man cried, 
 shaking her gently. "We are alone, there is none other save thy 
 good Djinns; dost thou not hear their tiny chimes? See! I have no 
 thought save of thee. Thy love would make fountains to leap in 
 the desert. With my breath would I weave the night-winds that
 
 brush thy hair. Butheita! Cousrouf desires thee! Thy body has 
 the fragrance of grapes. Beneath thine eyes are the stains of 
 purple grapes and thy lips are fruits of sweet juices. Before we 
 
 make covenant before Allah let us pause to dwell upon the 
 
 delights that await us in the abodes of the Paradises!" 
 
 VIII. 
 
 At dawn the rue Orleans began to show signs of waking-up. 
 Servants were sweeping banquettes in preparation for the pious 
 mistresses who would be faring forth to early Mass. No servitor 
 appeared before the white mansion at the corner of the rue 
 Dauphine. Amena'ide, the stalwart negress who was the neighbor- 
 hood bulletin, wondered why. 
 
 In the course of the morning a two-wheeled milk-cart stopped 
 and jangled a dinner-bell of goodly dimensions before the gate of 
 the great house. Again he rang, and again. Where were Ismail 
 and Toussoom, Achmet and Amurath, that the summons was dis- 
 obeyed? The Gascon jumped off his cart and tried the gate- 
 bell. It reverberated plaintively and the fastening resisted. He 
 shrugged and climbed back upon his high standing-perch. Later 
 other tradesmen came for their commerce with the rear gate. About 
 noon a lady remarked that she had watched the house between her 
 persiennes all morning and that there were as yet no indications of 
 activity within. True, there had been a great affair last night and 
 carriages had rolled away as late as four o'clock. Even those 
 strange dark people must sleep sometime. 
 
 The sun was shifting toward the westward rim when real con- 
 cern caused action and the authorities from the Cabildo attempted 
 to gain entrance to the mansion. It was like a barracks, with few 
 openings and the main-portal resisted the well-intentioned efforts. 
 The door finally gave way with a crash, admitting an alcalde and 
 his police. 
 
 At the threshold of the salons they halted and gasped; for, 
 his death-stretcher the couch of ease, with gashed throat, his beauti- 
 ful head almost servered and weltering in his blood, was the brother 
 of the Sultan. About him in tragic poses lay the five child-women 
 of the royal seraglio, dead. 
 
 Some men believe themselves willing to die for the love of one 
 
 81
 
 woman. How more glorious a death to die for love of five! 
 
 A watchman on the lookout for slaves evading the curfew- 
 cannon in Congo Square, remembered having heard music; no, not 
 the orchestra of the evening but the shrill bagpipe to which he had 
 sometimes heard a woman's voice singing in a strange tongue; and 
 in the middle of a cadence the voice seemed stifled and a man had 
 called. Perhaps the words were; "Allah's blessings upon Butheita!" 
 for assuredly his last breath gave benison to the best-beloved of the 
 brother of the Sultan. 
 
 The alcalde and his men sickened at the ghastly spectacle of 
 blood-dyed embroideries and discarded veils that revealed the 
 choicest beauty of the royal haremlik, so tenderly young! A tiny 
 red velvet shoe lay near the alcalde's foot. The air was heavy 
 with the scent of the blood and of broken phials of attared roses. 
 
 The alcalde and his followers dashed to the levee to advise 
 the officials of the Turkish ship of the calamity, and lo! the 
 dabahieh no longer swung by its hawsers at anchor before the town ! 
 The citizens massed on the levee and marveled. Steamboat mates 
 stood with flails inert while roustabouts idled unchidden. 
 
 The Latin tongue is inflammable and catches the spark from 
 one to another. The awesome tidings spread, the crowd of gapers, 
 practically all of the town's five thousand, congregated. The ship 
 had vanished under cover of night without port authority. It was 
 said there had been assassinations .... was there connection be- 
 tween the mystery of the white mansion and the eclipse of the 
 merchantman ? 
 
 It was the day of buccaneers a fashionable form of piracy 
 which appealed to the mighty of daring taste and it was rumored 
 in the Cafe des Exiles where Lafittte's doughtiest later met over 
 their strong wine, that the Turkish craft had been converted into a 
 free-ship, piratical of intention; that a Turk with a rum-poisoned 
 tongue had hinted at the violation of the sanctity of the royal harem 
 and the intended disposal by the crew of the costly evidence. Later 
 in the year Dominique You noted the same ship-outline upon the 
 main but it had lost its Sultan's standard. Despite all clues never 
 has there been revealed the whereabouts of the Turkish merchant- 
 man which so illy requited port civilities by sinking into oblivion as 
 surely as if her hull had nursed the river-bottom. 
 
 Strange sounds are heard nightly in the old Le Pretre man- 
 
 82
 
 sion, nor can any but strong nerves and pious hearts endure the 
 strain of residence therein. The imprint of a tiny shoe had been 
 ineradicably stained in the floor and girlish laughter would ring 
 from the third etage at times, the thud of a tambour, followed by 
 the piping of the zammarah bisoan suggestive of flutes and bulbuls 
 among tents and palms of the desert. Then there is a strain of 
 song reported, a man's pleading and abrupt silence followed by 
 poignant groans. 
 
 High-strung, imaginative folk cannot abide in such ghostly 
 quarters, so the old house, decrepid, its glory gone, has sunk to the 
 harboring of workaday phlegmatics who are too sleep-sodden to 
 heed the nightly-enacted tragedy. Holy water has proved in- 
 effective in laying the little veiled figures which evanesce through 
 corridors and up stairways, moaning in flight: for how may Christ- 
 blessed dews expunge the sins of Moslems? Some believe that 
 through the ages till it fall must the house be disquieted through 
 long nights to those acute enough to hear the carilloneuring of faint 
 silver bells and the velvet-shod tread of the maidens of the Nile and 
 Istamboul, of Alexandria and Aboukir, and fairest of all, the spoil 
 of battle, wild and sense-maddening Butheita of Bedouin birth 
 whose death proved complete surrender to her love, at the very feet 
 of the Brother of the Sultan! 
 
 THE END.