LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
BOOKS BY GEORGE W. CABLE 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCIUENER S SONS 
 
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LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 (TO-DAY) 
 
 BY 
 GEORGE W. CABLE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 1918 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BT 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 
 Published September, 1918 
 Reprinted November, December, 1918 
 
 
JL 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER , AGE 
 
 I. THEIR Two HOMES 3 
 
 II. THEY MEET 7 
 
 III. AT VANITY FAIR 14 
 
 IV. WHERE THEY CONVERSE 17 
 
 V. ON THE BOARDWALK 22 
 
 VI. WITH ONE MURRAY ....... 26 
 
 VII. IN THE BLAZE OF DAY 31 
 
 VIII. STRIKING CHORDS AND DISCORDS ... 38 
 
 IX. AND AGAIN, IN FLIGHT 43 
 
 X. HOMEWARD 50 
 
 XI. A BRIEF WAY TOGETHER 54 
 
 XII. AND AT HOME ON DRESS PARADE ... 62 
 
 XIII. "THE FOE!" 69 
 
 XIV. "THEY COME! THEY COME!". ... 79 
 XV. AT BILOXI 87 
 
 XVI. ON THE DUREL BOAT-WHARF 98 
 
 401049 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XVII. RAISING THE DUST 103 
 
 XVIII. ALSO THEY MANOEUVRE 110 
 
 XIX. AT AN UP-TOWN RECEPTION . . . 115 
 
 XX. BUT LOVE CAN LIVE ON LOVE . . 121 
 
 XXI. AND A GOD-SENT ACCIDENT OB Two . 127 
 
 XXII. THE HAWK STOOPS 137 
 
 XXIII. BUT A DOVE ROBS THE HAWK . . 142 
 
 XXIV. IN BITTER AIRS ." . 147 
 
 XXV. THE TRAPPER Is TRAPPED .... 151 
 
 XXVI. FOR THE COMMON WEAL . . . . 156 
 
 XXVII. IN STORM, BY STRATAGEM .... 166 
 
 XXVIII. BETWEEN THE BOXES AND THE BOOKS 174 
 
 XXIX. HER WOOF ON His WARP .... 183 
 
 XXX. A MISTAKE IN BRANDING .... 190 
 
 XXXI. To DIE OR TO FLY? 195 
 
 XXXII. BILOXI AGAIN 201 
 
 XXXIII. THE SIEGE OF NEW YORK . . , !f ". 210 
 
 XXXIV. SIEGE RAISED 217 
 
 XXXV. ENCHANTED ISLE 222 
 
 XXXVI. ENCHANTED VISION . ... . . 229 
 
 vi 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 XXXVII. TRUE FLESH AND BLOOD .... 236 
 
 XXXVIII. LOVER AND DREAMER 243 
 
 XXXIX. GARDENS UNDER THE SEA ... 252 
 
 XL. LOVE TAKEN ABACK 259 
 
 XLI. ENTER FEVER 265 
 
 XLII. WITH MURRAY MEDDLING . . . 270 
 
 XLIII. LOVE NEGOTIATES 278 
 
 XLIV. PRIDE THINKS ABOUT IT .... 282 
 
 XLV. RENEGADES REAPPEAR 287 
 
 XL VI. SUPPLYING A MISSING LINE . . . 292 
 
 XLVII. "COME BACK," SAYS SHE .... 298 
 
 XLVIII. "I COME," SAYS HE 302 
 
 XLIX. CASHIER AND CLAIRVOYANTE . . . 306 
 
 L. No FAULT o THE SCOT . . . .312 
 
 LI. SOUTHWARD ALL 317 
 
 LII. THE OTHER GIRL 321 
 
 LIII. Too LATE 329 
 
 LIV. THE " LUSITANIA," THE " LUSITANIA " ! 338 
 
 LV. LISTEN 1 .343 
 
 vu 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 THEIR TWO HOMES 
 
 UNTIL within a few years of the date here following, 
 .more Creoles lived elegantly in Esplanade Street (now 
 Avenue) than on any other equal length of thorough 
 fare in New Orleans. 
 
 In 1914, lengthened far out to Bayou Saint John, 
 with its two separate roadways and a grassy tree- 
 planted parkway between them, it still was socially best 
 among the score of streets, once so short, of the old 
 Franco-Spanish city. 
 
 One of its most attractive dwellings, of brick under a 
 rich brown stucco, was near Rampart Street. It may 
 be gone now. It was of three stories, the first sixteen 
 feet high, the second twelve. That was for coolness. 
 A dozen yards back from the sidewalk, in courtly dig 
 nity, without a blemish of architectural parade, this 
 fair home awaited its visitors approach through a gate 
 of wrought-iron openwork in a wall eight feet high, 
 also of brown stucco and covered, the year round, with 
 climbing roses. Along the wall s coping ran an iron 
 balustrade patterned to match the gate. 
 
 Wide balconies shaded the house s entire front, half 
 3 
 
/: i CLOVERS l fc QP LOUISIANA 
 
 veiled by further light ironwork sustaining them, and 
 by honeysuckles and jasmines that mounted to the 
 third-story cornices and overhung them in odorous 
 masses. At the rear much narrower balconies ran the 
 full length of the servants wing. These, close-lat 
 ticed, showed how numerous had once been the house 
 hold slaves, and how well they had been cared for. 
 Yet in the Civil War most of these had strayed away, 
 giddied by the new wine of emancipation. 
 
 Here lived the Durels, a Creole family, though num 
 bering but three, but with cousins, of course, of one 
 name or another, all over the city. To be a Creole 
 yet not somehow related to the Durels called for ex 
 planation. 
 
 Miles away up~town, on Prytania Street, about 
 evenly distant from Jackson and Toledano, stood a 
 house almost a counterpart of this one, in which also 
 was a family of but three, the Castletons : the judge, so 
 called, though practising at the bar; his unmarried 
 daughter, beginning to be gray; and Philip, son of her 
 long-departed sister, his father also a Castleton and also 
 departed. "Americans," not Creoles, they were, de 
 scendants of the late General Castleton of the Confed 
 erate Army. As to that, another such general had 
 been granduncle to Rosalie, youngest and fairest of 
 the Esplanade Avenue Durels. 
 
 In and about New Orleans one feels farther away 
 than elsewhere from everywhere else in the world. So 
 Philip had observed on his recent return from years 
 of study at Princeton. Indeed, the fact is as obvious 
 
 4 
 
THEIR TWO HOMES 
 
 as the excess of water in the landscape, or the moss 
 draping the mighty trees. But times, no less than 
 places, the judge had answered him, may make for re 
 moteness. Imagine what that of New Orleans had 
 been when the mistress of the Esplanade Avenue home, 
 Rosalie s still beautiful grand mere Durel, was yet a 
 Ducatel and in her early teens, living around in Ram 
 part Street, in the war years 61- 65. 
 
 Imagine, we can hear her exclaim in French to Rosa 
 lie, or the judge in more sedate English to Philip, imag 
 ine the city s remoteness with its people s lives, for 
 tunes, and passions swallowed up in a half-continental 
 cyclone of strife; with the flower of her manhood on 
 the far edge of that storm, and the city herself in the 
 hands of the foe. Those were the days of isolation ! 
 Days that modified the merest lad s or schoolgirl s point 
 of view nay, character for the rest of life. The very 
 moon and stars seemed nearer than any part of the 
 human world outside the captors lines. 
 
 But now all that was past. Deeper implanted than 
 that there remained another remoteness, in the people s 
 manners, customs, temperament; an inner sort which 
 in perceptible degree maintained the habit of mind, tht 
 atmosphere, of war s isolation half a century after the 
 war s end. It was evident in such persistent outward 
 symptoms as those latticed balconies, those high garden 
 walls, those iron gates, some of them locked day and 
 night, and the visitors bell-knob on the gate-post, a 
 sort of outer sentry to the new electric button at the 
 door. At the same time probably no other city in 
 
 5 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 America had so sparklingly busy a social life. The 
 point is this: though these two families were of equal 
 social eminence and though between them there was 
 no apparent antipathy, there was, up to the early 
 months of 1914, a strange absence of intercourse. 
 
 True, the strangeness lay merely in the fact s per 
 sistence. The two homes were of different languages, 
 religions, literatures, moral standards, social codes. In 
 the days of Madame DurePs girlhood Judge Castle- 
 ton s youth their two social worlds had dumbly stared 
 at each other across Canal Street like well-enough be 
 haved but unacquainted children, and these worlds had 
 not yet fully blended. Yet this unhostile, unconfessed, 
 complete non-intercourse of two beautiful and highly 
 honored homes in particular, lasting on into the four 
 teenth year of a new century and in a new, vastly 
 grown, automobile-overrun, electrically lighted New 
 Orleans, was not to be accounted for in generalities. 
 
 
n 
 
 THEY MEET 
 
 IN May of that year both those homes stood closed. 
 Both families were away, "up north/ the Durels for 
 the first time in their experience. 
 
 Judge Castleton was in Washington City for a client. 
 His daughter was with him. Philip was again at 
 Princeton, momentarily, preparing to give at "Tulane," 
 New Orleans, a course of lectures on American political 
 history. Not yet twenty-six, he was trying, he said, to 
 look thirty and to acquire a head which later might 
 serve for a professor, a poet, a journalist, politician, 
 diplomat, or all in one. Mr. Durel, president of the 
 Carondelet Bank, had gone to New York in behalf of 
 that important concern, and of course his ladies were 
 with him. 
 
 Society felt the loss of all six. Grave, capable, re 
 fined Miss Castleton, regretted socially, was even more 
 regretted in her church, whose missionary energies, for 
 instance, went limp for want of her; while the Durel 
 ladies, missed in church, were missed even more in 
 society. Drawing-rooms felt the absence of madame s 
 exquisite touch on the piano, accompanying the highly 
 trained voice of Rosalie, who, at twenty-one the despair 
 of all suitors, sang so well that social enthusiasm de- 
 
 7 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 clared nothing stood between her and a "career," could 
 she but stoop. 
 
 However, the Durels had left New York, where mon 
 sieur s errand had succeeded. This was the more a 
 triumph in view of the very private fact that for long 
 his bank had found it hard to declare full dividends; 
 so hard that he had stuck too closely to his desk and 
 was now "merely tired." But when one is so "merely 
 tired" that he cannot close his eyes without seeing 
 faces, he should pause, and now he and his ladies, home 
 ward bound, were pausing at Vanity Fair, or, as some 
 call it, Atlantic City. 
 
 A day or two later Philip, his Princeton work done, 
 rejoined his aunt and the judge in Philadelphia, and 
 the three decided to squander half a week on Atlantic 
 City s boardwalk. They arrived not far from the 
 Durels hotel one evening when there happened to be 
 assembling there a convention of librarians. It was to 
 be a pleasant meeting of both sexes, and the Castletons 
 had hardly taken a light refreshment before Philip had 
 made acquaintance with some of the delegates and per 
 suaded the judge and his aunt to accept their invitation 
 to the affair. 
 
 In a chill breeze and the roar of a heavy surf and 
 under a blaze of electric lights that blotted out the 
 heavens, they traversed the boardwalk not quite alone. 
 With them went a Mr. Murray, a fellow hotel-guest; a 
 lone Scot, of fifty or so, in morning dress Norfolk 
 jacket, no top-coat. He carried a thick stick by the 
 middle and stooped forward in a limber stride, Like 
 
 8 
 
THEY MEET 
 
 M. Durel, he was a banker, but, quite unlike the Creole, 
 was of a sort whose notes of travel boxed the world s 
 compass with an inquisitiveness hardly less than med 
 dlesome. We will not attempt to render his oddities of 
 speech fully or precisely, but 
 
 "I ve chawnced," he said, "to hear two or three do 
 mestics call those librarians Siberians. Would that 
 be an accepted Amerricanism ? " 
 
 The "liberians" were found standing about in so 
 ciable knots, waiting to be called to business. Philip 
 and Murray promptly mingled with them. The aunt 
 and her father, on the other hand, found a pleasant al 
 cove of four seats, all empty. 
 
 They were a noticeable pair. The judge was of a 
 good height and trim figure which evening dress set off 
 uncommonly well. His face was clean-shaven, yet his 
 bearing was rather military than judicial. His features 
 were refined, yet strong. Repose, benevolence, and in 
 trepidity were equally evident in them. His hair was 
 hardly as gray as his daughter s, and he was, beyond 
 doubt, far older than he looked or Philip could not have 
 been his grandson, despite the remarkable resemblance 
 between the two. 
 
 Miss Castleton was slender and handsome, and her 
 dress excellent in all points barring perhaps one: a 
 touch, no more, of severity, without which one might 
 easily have failed to observe in her lips, on her brow, a 
 like shadow of the same quality within. One of the 
 undetected things this stood for was an overstress of 
 femininity; that phase of femininity which often, not 
 
 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 always, keeps the possessor single at times may even 
 keep others so. 
 
 Hardly were the two seated when by a fine effort a 
 diffidently hovering male librarian came close: 
 
 " Pardon, but are you not Judge Carrington, of " 
 
 "Almost, sir. My name is Castleton." 
 " Castleton ! Yes ! I knew you by your likeness to 
 your picture in yesterday s Ledger. I wonder, Judge 
 Castleton, if you know in New Orleans a man named 
 oh, there, I ve forgotten ! What is that man s name ? 
 Why, he s a distant connection of mine; his mother s 
 stepfather was a second cousin to my wife s brother-in- 
 law. I never met him but once and that was in that 
 second-hand bookstore in Chartres Street near the 
 cathedral, kept by that black man blackest man I 
 ever saw named oh pshaw ! " 
 
 " Shaw, you think ? Isn t it Landry ? 
 "Landry! Right! Ovide Landry. You know him, 
 then?" 
 
 "No, but I used often to pass his shop when the 
 courts were down that way." 
 
 " Well, he s the most extraordinary black man I " 
 
 Music silenced him. Piano, violins, and trombone 
 crashed their evening finale early because of the con 
 vention. At the same moment appeared the Durels. 
 They came from the dining-room, late, and loitered 
 toward the alcove as to an accustomed corner. The 
 music ceased, but under cover of its last peal the li 
 brarian had vanished and was gone for good, forever. 
 As the judge resumed his seat he noticed the Durels 
 
 10 
 
THEY MEET 
 
 coming and turned to his daughter to propose that 
 they move. But always Miss Castleton s primal in 
 stinct was to reject any masculine suggestion, and by 
 the time she was aware of the Durels it was too late to 
 go; madame and her son took the two available seats. 
 
 They had not seen the Castletons. Their careful 
 eyes were on Rosalie. Three or four paces away she 
 had been stopped by an eager young girl, a librarian, 
 who had secured her acquaintance before dinner and 
 now was overburdened by two male charmers, Philip 
 being one and the Scotchman the one too many. What 
 emphasized the attention of Rosalie s kindred was that 
 Rosalie and Philip, from first sight, first exchange of 
 words, were showing an interest in each other which 
 enlisted the sympathy of every casual observer. 
 
 Philip and she were both from New Orleans ! Stated 
 in that strange place, what resonance, what weight, 
 what color, what thrill, were in that fact! And al 
 though she was of the farthest edge of the "Vieux 
 Carre/ while he was of the "Nouveau Quartier" and 
 had been back at home so few months after those years 
 north, how near, nevertheless, had they been to meet 
 ing, already and at home, a dozen times ! 
 
 The Scot and the pretty librarian forgot to look at 
 each other, so "easy to look at" as Princetonians say 
 and so easy to listen to were the other pair. Espe 
 cially Rosalie. Philip, except for a neat mustache and 
 a shade more of breadth and stature, was his grand 
 father reminted, and seemed to the two admirers par 
 ticularly worthy to be, thus transiently if no more, 
 
 11 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 freely singled out by the Creole girl. And she I They 
 could almost forget her unusual beauty, so enchanting 
 were her voice, her manner. With these for a setting 
 her speech, though English, was a jewel, her faint 
 Creole accent the jewel s best gleam. 
 
 In Britain the Scot, in New England the library girl, 
 had once or twice known women whose words fell from 
 such limpid springs of feeling, and with such tranquil 
 lity of countenance and frame, that for moments one 
 could close his eyes and yet get the speaker s whole 
 wealth of meaning and charm. But here was some 
 thing as different as a diamond from a pearl. A play 
 of sympathetic intelligence in her tone, in her eyes, on 
 her brows, was like just enough stir in the roses. Her 
 speech neither began nor ended on the lips, nor her 
 radiance in her face; every part of her presence, in a 
 delicate equilibrium, had its perfect share in every ut 
 terance. The slight, unconscious undulations of her 
 hands ran daintily through all her being, chasing the 
 waves of her thought and shedding that light of life 
 which is the painter s last touch. So felt the British 
 banker, with that vivacity of sentiment never lacking 
 in the true Caledonian; and so felt the book-sated little 
 librarian, unselfishly enraptured to find poetry, for once, 
 not pressed and dried in books but fragrant, alive, in 
 carnate. 
 
 The chief joy of Philip and Rosalie was in chancing 
 on an inspiring fellowship through which to contem 
 plate the great world in aspects so vividly unlike those 
 of their remote home city. Each to each supplied a 
 
 12 
 
THEY MEET 
 
 lively want. The judge, grand mere, aunt, pere, had 
 always been richly sympathetic yet not without dis 
 crepancies of view inseparable from discrepancy of 
 years. Cherished, worshipped, they were nevertheless 
 "back numbers," gilt-edged bound volumes. Philip 
 seemed to her, she to him, news ! news of the hour, on 
 the hour, for the hour ! 
 
 The librarians came to order, the library girl vanished 
 forever so wags the world at Vanity Fair and Rosa 
 lie, with Philip on one side and Murray on the other, 
 rejoined her father and madame. These had her yet 
 in their eye, although madame had broken the ice be 
 tween themselves and the Castletons. In voices kept 
 well under those of the convention the newcomers were 
 introduced and the seven, held together by the Scot, 
 withdrew to an unoccupied reading-room. Leaving 
 madame to the judge, and Rosalie to Philip and Miss 
 Castleton, the Briton fastened upon the Creole banker. 
 
 13 
 
Ill 
 
 AT VANITY FAIR 
 
 MR. MURRAY touched monsieur s buttonhole: "I ve 
 a letter to you, unless there are other Durels in the 
 banking business/ 
 
 The Creole was of a trim figure, in clothes precisely 
 correct, and his tiny iron-gray waxed mustaches, each 
 ending in a single hair, agreeably tempered his invinci 
 ble dignity. "Beside* me," he said, "they have, in my 
 bank alone, my two nephew , receiving and paying 
 teller , and my second cousin, cashier." 
 
 "Then you are A. Durel, president." 
 
 "Yes, Alphonse. Zephire Durel is my cashier." 
 
 " Gad ! from A to Z, as they say in this country. I 
 know the phrase on the other side, but I m sure tis an 
 Amerricanism." 
 
 Monsieur lightly showed his dropped palms and 
 shrugged. The nailing of Americanisms was not his 
 business. 
 
 The Scot returned to the point: "Man ! I shouldn t 
 want three relatives o mine in my bank." 
 
 The Creole smiled solemnly: "To those relative , as 
 to me, the responsibblety of the Durel name weighs 
 more than ten banks." 
 
 Philip, seemingly half forgotten between Rosalie and 
 his aunt, caught monsieur s remark and turned. At 
 home he knew Zephire by sight; a handsome fellow of 
 
 14 
 
AT VANITY FAIR 
 
 thirty-five, living showily in bachelor s quarters in the 
 old decayed and forsaken rue Orleans. Jolly to meet, 
 he was said to be; deadly to offend, possessed of a 
 famous gift for accounts, one of those geniuses who 
 add five columns of figures at a single glance. He ran 
 a costly motor-car, sailed a fast pleasure-boat, led a fast 
 life, and was as bigoted in his vices as some of us in 
 our virtues, yet of an unquestioned business integrity; 
 the city s smartest example of how all those things may 
 be successfully combined. Philip turned to the two 
 bankers, therefore, with a new interest in Durels. 
 
 But Murray, making haste to be less personal, asked 
 Philip why so many New Orleans banks, the Durel 
 bank included, held their charters from the State rather 
 than from the national government. But Philip de 
 ferred to monsieur, who explained that in New Orleans 
 there was much "trust business," which national banks 
 might not do, and while the Scot listened Philip glanced 
 back again to the other two couples, yet preferred to 
 leave them to themselves, particularly the judge and 
 madame " mere." 
 
 " Mere" and "chere" were all Rosalie ever called 
 her, as "the judge" was Philip s only word for his be 
 latedly young grandfather. The picture furnished by 
 the elder couple made it preferable to Philip to remain 
 himself a while alone. The judge seemed so exactly 
 adapted to madame, and she to enjoy a content so 
 sweetly dignified, that to draw nearer would be too 
 much like breaking a spell. 
 
 And, besides, Philip could no more keep his eyes on 
 15 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Rosalie than off. But on madame they could dwell 
 and in her grace he saw Rosalie s abated to a past 
 tense; biography prophesied. In madame there yet re 
 mained that shell-pink, shell-white, rose-warm trans- 
 lucency of complexion with which the Louisiana Creole 
 so often surprises such first beholders as, say, the Scot. 
 On her was repeated under the faultless throat, fault 
 lessly matching the attire, Rosalie s single-stranded 
 necklace of small pearls, except that madame s pearls 
 were, so to say, punctuated with amethysts, as life is 
 with experiences. Her rich coils of hair were blacker 
 than Rosalie s and did not cast the frequent glimmer 
 of bronze which the girl s did in a supple play of head, 
 neck, and shoulders; but the matron s shoulders, ampler 
 than the girl s, were as perfect for her years as Rosalie s 
 for her youth. In the two faces there was almost the 
 same softness of oval contour, the same mobility in the 
 faintly arched nose, the same voluptuous sweep of 
 lashes. Only hi eloquence of glance did the younger 
 peculiarly excel. The eyes of both were large, but 
 Rosalie s were the richer in changing lustres; now 
 straightforward and alight with candor, now musingly 
 dropped sidewise, but quickly lifted again into self- 
 illumination, as though her speech could hardly be 
 speech without them. 
 
 At one point she paused with a bright glance to 
 ward the assembled librarians. They were applauding 
 their chairman. Philip came to her side, but his first 
 word was a facetious one to his aunt: 
 
 "What is Miss Durel saying that so pleases them?" 
 16 
 
IV 
 WHERE THEY CONVERSE 
 
 THE girl broke in gayly: "If I had been saying 
 anything to them it would be of the Boardwalk! 
 Continually since morning we ve been on it, mere 
 and I, bundled up in one of those wheel-chairs. I 
 didn t think there was in the whole world a place so 
 multitudinous ! " 
 
 Miss Castleton took her literally: "Oh ! is it more so 
 than Fifth Avenue or Piccadilly?" 
 
 And Philip more passively added: "Even our own 
 Canal Street, in Carnival time " 
 
 "Ah, Canal Street ! One week in the year, and then 
 only from Magazine to Rampart five squares ! While 
 here twenty ! And here tis not alone the multitude 
 but the types ! So many and so droll !" 
 
 "And from every corner of the earth." 
 
 "Yes! Yes! And yet still, among all those types 
 the most droll " She archly checked up. 
 
 "Are Americans?" inquired Philip. 
 
 "Americans!" she echoed, and turned to the aunt. 
 
 But with amiable reluctance that lady confessed to 
 little care for types, or love of crowds. 
 
 Rosalie arched a lovely distress: "Ah, crowds ! they re 
 not for me! Last Sunday seventy thousand people! 
 
 17 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 To love seventy thousand strangers at one time 
 and mostly types it is not possible ! Yet still I think 
 twould be twice as easy as solitude.** 
 
 "Mademoiselle, you re not confined to that choice." 
 
 She gave the briefest of glances, looked down and 
 drew a breath. "On a pinch," Philip added, "you 
 might choose society." 
 
 "Ah!" she looked heavenward " that s what I 
 love society ! " Brow and lashes drooped again : 
 "Solitude is terrible." 
 
 The aunt wanted to be generous, but such worldli- 
 ness silenced her. Yet her smile was kind. The girl 
 turned to the nephew: "You neither? Don t care for 
 types?" 
 
 " I care a lot. To me they re the best reading." 
 
 She sparkled. "They are history alive! We saw 
 to-day eating sea-water taffy two unabridged his 
 tories of Vermont male and female ! " 
 
 "Any complete history of the United States?" 
 
 "Too many to count !" One subtle gesture, delight 
 fully refined as it ran through her whole form, so truly 
 and comically implied a fat, masculine,, swaggering 
 alertness, that the aunt smiled again even while protest 
 ing: "Oh, that s not the whole country; it s not the 
 South!" 
 
 "And it s only one type," said Philip. 
 
 "But tis everywhere, is it not? Fifth Avenue, 
 Broadway, Boardwalk? After those I m content to 
 return home; I have seen the North !" 
 
 Philip laughed and sat down by her. 
 18 
 
WHERE THEY CONVERSE 
 
 "Ah/* she exclaimed, "you think not?" 
 
 "I I d like to talk with you about the North/ 1 he 
 said, "as a fellow Southerner." His aunt began to 
 offer parting courtesies. But as she moved to madame 
 and the judge, Philip insisted to Rosalie: "I take that 
 subject in dead earnest." 
 
 "Yes? I I don t like anything dead. I prefer to 
 take everything in live joke." 
 
 "That s all right. One of us in joke, one in ear 
 nest, that s the way to the truth of things. But, 
 really, don t you think we Southerners ought to study 
 other sections of our country and our people if only 
 to know the South and ourselves better?" 
 
 "Yes ! Yes ! That s what I tell" A side glance 
 indicated her father. 
 
 "In joke?" asked Philip, but their seniors came near 
 and he added: "Very well, we ll discuss it to-morrow, 
 if you don t forbid." 
 
 "Possibly, yes, if we happen to stumble across." 
 
 "Trust the stumbling to me," he said, but she turned 
 to receive the Scot s parting bow. 
 
 Out under the stars, where a growing warmth of air 
 presaged a pleasant morrow, Philip, beside his aunt and 
 followed by the two older men, remarked that either 
 the surf s thunder or the star-quenching splendor of 
 electric advertising was enough to fill one s whole mind, 
 but that the two together emptied it. To which the 
 aunt, guessing his mind s true fulness, replied with a 
 query in undertone: 
 
 "How did those two ladies strike you?" 
 19 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Delightfully," he replied, and glanced back. 
 "Judge, think what that grandmother must have been 
 at her granddaughter s age." 
 
 The judge, discoursing on Panama or something as 
 remote, forgot his point, though both he and the Scot 
 ignored the remark. Not so the quiet aunt. 
 
 "How about the girl?" she asked Philip. 
 
 "She? Why, auntie, the law oughtn t to allow a 
 girl to be as handsome as that one." 
 
 The response was tardy and meditative: "The law, 
 unfortunately, can t prevent her." 
 
 "Why, auntie dear! Why, auntie!" 
 
 "Philip, such beauty is unfortunate. I ve never 
 known a case that wasn t a pitfall to the girl and a bur 
 den to all concerned. Unless there is behind it a mind 
 and soul quite as extraordinary " 
 
 "Ah, but there is. She s got them, all three." 
 
 The aunt smiled prettily. "She certainly seemed to 
 have a mind to you, Phil." 
 
 "Oh, please ! That s just her way with every one." 
 
 "With every one man, I warrant you." 
 
 "Auntie, don t women always stand up for their 
 sex?" 
 
 "Not for individuals of it! And not for types. 
 That girl s a type herself if ever there was one." 
 
 "No, she s a type by herself if ever there was one." 
 
 The amused lady caressed her nephew s arm: "That s 
 what the stricken always think," she said. 
 
 "Oh, I m not stricken." 
 
 "Then you shouldn t have looked it." 
 90 
 
WHERE THEY CONVERSE 
 
 "Oh, my dear 1 even in joke don t say that. I ll de 
 clare I didn t look stricken." 
 
 "To yourself, of course, you didn t. To her you did, 
 so plainly that she had to tell you that she wasn t in 
 earnest. I confess I liked her for that." 
 
 "So did I. I do yet." 
 
 "Then her every point in saying it is gained." 
 
 "Why, auntie, you re like a bird with one chick. 
 What s so suddenly put you so out of character ? " 
 
 "My boy, I m my whole true self when I say I hope 
 that girl will never have the luck to see you again." 
 
 They were re-entering their hotel, and Philip made 
 no reply. Within, the two stood aside while the Scot 
 left them and the judge went to the office for their 
 keys. Philip gave his aunt an unearned smile. 
 
 She touched him fondly. "Phil, in the realities you 
 and she haven t one least thing in common." 
 
 Asking himself, " Where does this panic spring from ? " 
 he replied appeasingly, accepting his key from the 
 judge, "I fancy that in the realities" he began to back 
 away to the elevator "Never mind. I ll find out as 
 soon as I can and will let you know." 
 
 Her eye released him, but detained the judge. Sud 
 denly, privately, she said: "He mustn t do any such 
 thing. This mustn t go a step farther." 
 
 Gravely he replied: "It won t. It won t." 
 
 "Why won t it?" 
 
 "Well, for one thing did you ever hear of the 
 second cousin, Zephire ? " 
 
 21 
 
ON THE BOARDWALK 
 
 MORNING found Philip on the sea s front while the 
 waters yet flushed the changes of a spring dawn. 
 
 The tide was in. The surf leaped and thundered in 
 three, four, five yeasting lines, at times unbroken from 
 pier to pier. In the quiet air there was hardly more 
 chill than would be gone in an hour. Yet little moving 
 life was in sight; long stretches of the Boardwalk were 
 without a human figure. Over the horizon a few thin 
 clouds stood as motionless as though painted there, 
 while beneath them, miles away in the northeast, crept 
 a tow of coal-barges, and in the southeast another. 
 
 The Castletons hotel was one of the most southerly 
 on the ocean front, and not to miss the earliest glimpse 
 of the sun when it should spring from the sea Philip 
 turned toward the Inlet and took his way along Vanity 
 Fair s densest and smartest show of herself; palatial 
 hotels, theatres, piers, and shops. When that first 
 glimpse came he paused at the Boardwalk s rail and 
 watched it grow, willingly lost in its never-failing won 
 der. Another man came and stood beside him under 
 the same spell. It was Murray, in Norfolk jacket and 
 knickerbockers, still gripping his stick by the middle. 
 Neither saluted until the great ball s lower edge had 
 cleared the ocean s rim. 
 
 22 
 
ON THE BOARDWALK 
 
 Then they spoke and soon walked on together. The 
 Scot said he had been away southwesterly on the 
 Boardwalk to a place mostly of empty lots, called on 
 sign-boards Ventnor. 
 
 "Would that be, possibly, an American Indian 
 name?" 
 
 Philip thought not and said he was saving that walk 
 for the close of day, when he could face the sunset as 
 he went, and later, returning, would see the Board 
 walk s myriad lights and the ocean silvering to a rising 
 moon. 
 
 The Scot was stirred. "Gad, youVe the right in 
 stinct. I ll do that this evening !" 
 
 Philip, his mind on Rosalie, was sorry not to have 
 kept his instinct to himself. Yet he retained a gay 
 manner. 
 
 "There s another instinct I wish I had. Don t you 
 approve an instinct for the crowd; a right way of seeing 
 it; a sympathetic and yet sane way?" 
 
 "Ay! Now here in America, where the people s 
 maddest instinct is for keeping busy, like, eh, like mere 
 awnts, tis a real relief to find, here, such swarms of 
 them, for days together, just idle stopping a bit to 
 live." 
 
 Maybe for lack of the right instinct this seemed more 
 sympathetic than sane. " Wouldn t you call it mighty 
 shoal-water living?" Philip asked, while his mind 
 roved. 
 
 "Ah! if they kept it up, verily! But to-morrow 
 they go back and get busy, as you say here?" 
 
 23 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 When, at the next mile-post, the two faced about for 
 breakfast the Scot had got clear round to this: "You 
 Amerricans, you ve one grreat advantage over us, that 
 your country s as compact as it is vawst? You ve all 
 your eggs in one bawsket, as you say ? " 
 
 "You might say, in forty-eight," laughed the South 
 erner. 
 
 "True; you ve that many States; yet you re all in 
 one boat?" the Scot insisted. 
 
 "Except for the Philippines and a few like trifles," 
 rejoined Philip, trying to keep his mind off a certain 
 hotel, the next they were to repass. 
 
 " Ah, you couldn t help that Philippine business, and 
 I m glad you couldn t," said the Scot. "It s profited 
 the wurruld ! Promoted its peace ! Lifted it and the 
 brown man on and up ! Ye made that war in the fear 
 o God, so hold fast what he gi es you. It paid ye in 
 breadth o mind. Twas so I talked to your Creole 
 banker lawst night. The first founders of this na 
 tion, says he, never set out to own Pacific islands. 
 Nor to buy Louisiana, says I, but are you sorry twas 
 bought ? Doctor Castleton, treat your Philippines as 
 you may, no great people can ever be quite or only 
 what they set out to be. Man, look at Brritain ? " 
 
 "Yes," absently said Philip, looking for Britain at a 
 certain hotel s windows. 
 
 "Did Brritain," the self-entertained Scot went on, 
 "start in with the intent to sprawl herself all over the 
 globe till now she looks ready to drop to pieces by 
 dead weight and holds together only by being, always 
 
 24 
 
ON THE BOARDWALK 
 
 and everywhere, in one puir way or another, the world s 
 man-of -all-work and as democratic as she is imperial ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Philip. "No, of course not. Here s 
 where we met the the librarians last night." His 
 heart unaccountably broke into song like a caged bird. 
 
 "Humph!" responded the Scot, as though he heard 
 the strain, "and right here s her father" [at a jeweller s 
 shop-window]. "Good morning, Mr. Durel." 
 
 The grave Creole had barely time to show due cor 
 diality when his daughter came out of the shop. She 
 had been for days, she explained to Philip, in search of 
 a gift for her grandmother, whose birthday this was, 
 but could find nothing good enough which was not 
 hopelessly beyond her purse. The rapture of the diffi 
 culty fairly illuminated her. When he smilingly asked 
 if the fault was not madame s fault of her faultlessness 
 she lighted up yet more as she said it was, entirely ! 
 Then when he said that his aunt gave him the same 
 distress every year the illumination deferentially 
 waned, and when he ventured to add, "We, you and 
 I, have that much in common, anyhow," she said, 
 "Yes?" as if not sure she understood, though she did, 
 better than he dreamed. 
 
 "Well, papa?" She had turned and the two bowed 
 good-day. 
 
 25 
 
VI 
 WITH ONE MURRAY 
 
 PHILIP and the Scot strode on, the younger man 
 pondering the happy moment. How brief, how trivial, 
 yet how much it had contained. "Nothing in com 
 mon!" Were not such chance interchanges their own 
 proof of much in common? The bird within, unable 
 to say flat yes or no, absurdly struck up at the top of 
 its voice : " Rosalie Durel, Durel, Rosalie Durel ! Ros 
 alie, Rosalie, Rose, Rose, Rose!" 
 
 Would Murray hear it again? To prevent him 
 Philip spoke volubly. He reverted to Britain; ex 
 tolled her wonderful ways and means of peace, order, 
 and beneficence; her conservation of so much liberty 
 and law with so little show of force, and the loyalty she 
 inspired in so many millions of all races of men, white, 
 brown, yellow, black, and red. He laid it on thick and 
 the Scot took it like a hero till at "yellow, black, and 
 red" he offered an interruption which Philip with a 
 visible flush could not but regard as acutely out of 
 time and unfair. 
 
 "Hark! You re a Southerner, but I d say this to 
 any American, for ye re all tarred with the same stick, 
 as your saying is. You fancy your race question s a 
 peculiarly American question. Man! " But here 
 Philip broke in: 
 
 "Down South we re narrower than that, Mr. Mur- 
 2G 
 
WITH ONE MURRAY 
 
 ray, I m afraid. We call it a strictly Southern ques 
 tion, which we will take care of if the rest of the country 
 will only let us alone." 
 
 " But it isn t and ye don t. Doctor Castleton, it s a 
 British question and a world question and it s getting 
 bigger every day." 
 
 "Oh, we know how big it is," said Philip, wishing 
 as if that would help or hinder that Rosalie 
 were by. 
 
 "No, you don t know either how big it is or how 
 small. How small, that is, in the world s sight, among 
 a hundred acuter questions. It looks biggest to you 
 where it s smallest, so I ll say but this word and 
 no other henceforth you handle it, all of you 
 North, South, East, West California, Carolina tim 
 orously. And whenever the strong are timorous, Doc 
 tor Castleton, they re tyrannical. Now here ! This 
 one word for a last one." They had reached their own 
 hotel, but the speaker faced round into Philip s path: 
 "Do you know why we Britons get on so well with the 
 dark races? We make them as white inside as 
 we can, as fast as we can, yet keep ourselves white, 
 every way, without force or fear. We stagger and 
 stumble, but somehow even when we fall we we 
 fall up-stairs. Enough you re you re bored. You 
 Americans hate your race question, North and South; 
 and no wonder, you handle it so badly." They entered 
 the hotel. 
 
 Near the breakfast-room they met the judge, who 
 tendered Murray his daughter s seat at table. She was 
 
 27 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 breakfasting in her room. Philip went away, but 
 "would be back." 
 
 The judge smiled after him. "Can t eat till he s 
 told his auntie good-morning. When he went off to 
 college she took his pledge never to go to bed without 
 reading his Bible and he s never missed a night." 
 
 The Scot sniffed. "Oh, it s little that proves." 
 
 "So we both tell her, but to her it proves everything 
 waiter, bring me coffee, shirred eggs, and milk bis 
 cuits." 
 
 The Scot, who had kept that same pledge for twenty 
 years, looked up from a reverie. "What did you 
 order? No matter, I ll have the same. I can say a 
 better word than that for your nephew." 
 
 "You mean for Phil? He s my grandson." 
 
 "True! But you re such chums, you know." 
 
 "What is your better word?" 
 
 Here Philip returned and took his seat, the Scot 
 eyeing him steadily and responding: "Retakes a con 
 troversial mauling with the grace of an ambassador." 
 
 "Who, I?" Philip laughed. "Why, Mr. Murray, 
 my quick temper s my weakest plank. You re pulling 
 my leg." 
 
 The Scot threw up a hand and burrowed for his note 
 book: "Pulling y r leg. Gad ! I ll jot that down. " 
 
 While he wrote, Philip told the judge that the aunt 
 hoped to see him before he should go out. The break 
 fast came, and when the book was put away the Scot 
 tapped one of his biscuits with a fork. "And this, I 
 make no doubt," he said, " is a buckwheat cake ? " 
 
 28 
 
WITH ONE MURRAY 
 
 Neither hearer smiled. The pair displayed the grace 
 of at least two ambassadors while the judge told what 
 made the thing, in the American dialect, a biscuit, and 
 Philip explained the nature and function of the buck 
 wheat cake. 
 
 Really, they enjoyed their untiring questioner. No 
 aspect of American life escaped his blunt probe, and 
 when every now and then he lit upon some matter 
 specially Southern, his queries were so oddly put that 
 to answer them was entertainment enough. 
 
 And the Briton was pleased. "Albeit you re South 
 erners/ he remarked, "you re better democrats oca- 
 demically than most Americans I have struck/ as 
 you say in Chicago. You re born progressionists. " 
 
 "We d like to be," said the judge, and Philip added: 
 
 "But first and last we ll live and die for Dixie. " 
 
 "Oh, Lorrd! Leave that to the mossbacks! But 
 you, it s a mossback you are, after all by training." 
 
 "I get my training from the judge," laughed Philip. 
 
 " Ah, from fifteen up ! But before that from y r 
 awnt!" 
 
 The two Castletons smiled steadily at each other. 
 The three men rose. They bought the morning papers. 
 Then they started, Philip for a window-seat, the 
 Briton for the open air, the judge to find his daughter; 
 but a second impulse turned the Scot back to address 
 the judge softly: "See here. I ve a lifetime habit o 
 stickin my nose into other people s business. May I 
 do it now?" 
 
 "Why, that s very friendly of you, sir. Say it out." 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 " Tis but this: don t up-stairs be beguiled, will 
 ye?" 
 
 "As to what?" 
 
 "To vamoose the rawnch. To bounce the town, this 
 Boardwalk and fools paradise. Don t snatch the boy 
 from it." 
 
 The judge twinkled. "You want to maul him some 
 more?" 
 
 "No, no, tis no for that. Major Cas Judge, I 
 mean I ve gone as daft on yon lad as you are. And 
 on the lass as well. A bit ago, seein them together 
 against the rising sun, thinks I : In the image o God 
 crreated he him ! Male and female crreated he them/ 
 Don t parrt them yet. If I can read their title clearr 
 they re chock-a-block wi destiny. Maybe not; I don t 
 counsel folly; I say be not rawsh. You wonder why I 
 butt in. Well for this: I was snatched away once, 
 mysel ." 
 
 The pair stood silent. Suddenly the judge s hand 
 went out to the Scot s. Then with a tardy smile he 
 stepped to the elevator and disappeared. 
 
 "Oh, ho-o!" thought the Scot, and out on the 
 Boardwalk alone he added aloud: "I ought to ha 
 guessed that too ! " 
 
 30 
 
VII 
 IN THE BLAZE OF DAY 
 
 THIS was Vanity Fair in spring, not summer. No 
 bathers swarmed in the surf. Hardly a pleasure-boat 
 was out. 
 
 Except when ebb-tide made room on the beach for 
 saddle-horses and pony phaetons all outdoor pastimes 
 were on the Boardwalk. Its benches held but few sit 
 ters, but afoot or in wheel-chairs thousands drifted to 
 and fro, and so balmy this midday was the breeze that 
 half the chairs were without hoods. 
 
 The one that bore Madame Durel and Rosalie was 
 covered. They liked the covered ones best. Close be 
 hind them strolled the two bankers, in conversation. 
 Often these halted at the outer rail, while the two 
 ladies had themselves trundled up to some window dis 
 play of embroidery, gowns, or millinery, or left the 
 chair and entered a jeweller s shop in quest of the 
 still unfound birthday-gift. 
 
 What care-free, innocent time-killing ! The shops 
 were like beds of flowers, and the ladies themselves 
 were the butterflies. The salt breath of the Atlantic 
 ruffled their brows, and half round the compass the 
 ocean s majesty rewarded every lifted glance. 
 
 Miss Castleton, too, was out, though tardily. There 
 had been letters to write, which provoked her two fond 
 
 31 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 kinsmen to call her "Mary and Martha doubled and 
 twisted." For one letter was to their New Orleans do 
 mestics and covered pages of directions for having their 
 home ready to receive them at once; the other was to 
 the secretary of the missionary society of which she was 
 president. 
 
 Now, however, here she was, in a wheel-chair for one, 
 sincerely happy in the snugness of its impregnable lim 
 itations. About it hovered her father and nephew. It 
 was but fair that Philip, especially, should see to it that 
 Vanity Fair should repay her coming. To roam the 
 Boardwalk, he had insisted, was a unique adventure, 
 and she was honestly making the experiment with but 
 one reservation : to keep clear of all entanglements with 
 those only too attractive Durels. 
 
 From the hotel she might be wheeled in either of 
 two directions. Southward was sea, sky, and compara 
 tive seclusion. Northward, too, were sea and sky, but 
 also the crowd, most of the shops, and very likely the 
 three undesirables. Yet if one had to risk an uncov- 
 eted encounter, in the crowd was the place to risk it, 
 and she had chosen the crowd. Having gone well 
 through it, to where the Boardwalk narrowed, she had 
 turned back and, once more in the throng, had had her 
 chair faced seaward and halted at the outer rail, with 
 all the tramping, trundling crowd behind her. 
 
 The day was resplendent. A sunlight that covered 
 the ocean from edge to edge seemed to permeate her 
 frame. Far and near on rocky shoals the waters 
 foamed snow-white, and over better depths sparkled 
 
 32 
 
IN THE BLAZE OF DAY 
 
 bluer than the bluest heaven. The surf s wide rollers 
 chased one another like lines of revellers, spread glid- 
 ingly up the sands, and at the Boardwalk s line perished 
 in miracles of lace. When her eye rested on the hori 
 zon her soul was stirred with the thought that the first 
 land eastward was Spain and that a mere degree or 
 two to the right lay Africa, its sunny fountains, its 
 golden sands. Miss Castleton s human kindness felt a 
 new glow. Her church had missions over there and in 
 China, India, and the Pacific all that beautiful world 
 still waiting for man to make it spiritually so much 
 more beautiful ! She wanted to rise, stretch wings, and 
 take the ocean s width at a single flight. 
 
 Both her companions admitted that scenery some 
 times gave them that impulse, but they had always 
 fancied it more physical than spiritual. Philip made 
 further concession: 
 
 "Now, this morning I have an illusion which I be 
 lieve is mainly spiritual; I seem to hear every now and 
 then a bird singing." He turned to the judge: "Have 
 you never had that illusion?" 
 
 "Yes, I ve had it," was the reply, and while Philip 
 gazed across the dazzling waters his aunt looked stead 
 ily at her father and, unseen, the Durels went by with 
 the Scot. When the Castletons moved on again the 
 other three were a hundred yards ahead. There an 
 Israelite was holding an auction of Oriental rugs, mugs, 
 drugs, jugs whatever one wanted to bid on and ma- 
 dame and Rosalie had gone in to a front seat. The 
 two bankers had stopped close beyond at a shooting- 
 
 33 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 gallery and were showing with rules such skill that 
 others were looking on. 
 
 As the Castletons drew near, the aunt, still Mary 
 and Martha in one, saw two Syrians holding up a rug, 
 and the Israelite inviting bids. Some one hidden by 
 feminine hats named a price, which he proclaimed com 
 passionately. And really the rug was worth three 
 times the bid. Moreover it was the exact answer to 
 one of Miss Castleton s most pressing home needs, a 
 need she had tried to supply in Philadelphia. She 
 wheeled near, stopped, and raised the bid. The judge 
 and Philip enjoyed the scene a moment, moved on a 
 step and discovered the two bankers at their pastime. 
 They took a hand. To humor the judge the rifles 
 were exchanged for pistols and with these the Creole 
 promptly excelled the Scot, the judge excelled the Cre 
 ole, and Philip led them all. Crack! the bell rang. 
 Crack ! It rang again, and again, and again. Onlook 
 ers tiptoed and craned, the Scot cried "Man!" Durel 
 said, "Cr-r-r!" the judge smiled, Philip laughed, the 
 bell rang on and the bird sang. 
 
 As the four turned away monsieur touched Philip: 
 "You are the bez shot I ever see excep only one." 
 "And who may that be?" put in the Scot. 
 "I think I know," said Philip. 
 "You think? . . . Well?" 
 "Isn t he your cousin, Zephire Durel?" 
 "Zephire, yes though he s not my firz cousin." 
 Philip noticed the disclaimer. The bird stopped 
 singing. 
 
 34 
 
IN THE BLAZE OF DAY 
 
 So much more interesting did the four marksmen 
 become as they were rejoined by their three ladies, 
 that the onlookers moved away reluctantly, convinced 
 that the seven were millionaires. Hardly could there 
 have been just then in all Vanity Fair a more charming 
 tableau of social life. A radiance of adventure in the 
 three women redoubled their beauty and was almost as 
 brightly reflected by the four men. For Miss Castleton 
 had got the rug ! Idlers paused at the shop to see it, 
 while the seven, moving on, told and heard how it had 
 been got. 
 
 At the height of the bidding so ran the tale Rosa 
 lie, identifying her opponent, had forthwith, to the 
 open chagrin of the crier, stopped bidding and let the 
 victory and its spoils go to her rival. Miss Castleton 
 gave her version to the judge and monsieur with grate 
 ful smiles and in accents of distressed apology, while 
 at madame s side Rosalie told hers to the Scot and 
 Philip in a joy of self-denial and with much mirthful 
 compassion for the auctioneer. Then while monsieur 
 and the judge with Miss Castleton a listener walked 
 on debating topics of the day Rosalie and madame, 
 but chiefly Rosalie, solicited by the Scot, told an 
 other story to him and Philip the story of Ovide 
 Landry. 
 
 " I h ard a bit of it this morrn," said Murray who 
 in his dialect was as inconsistent as the Durels in 
 theirs "from one o those librarians, and just now 
 found y r father, Miss Durel, to be a part of it him 
 self." 
 
 35 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 The ladies gazed. " How did you find that out ? " 
 
 "From him. We d got upon the subject o y r 
 Southern States, y r South or what you may call it " 
 
 "Dixie!" sang Rosalie. 
 
 "Ay. And I was remarking, casually, how far be 
 hind the worrld you ve kept yourselves " 
 
 "By good fortune?" Rosalie archly suggested. 
 
 "There!" cried the Scot to Philip. "Could any 
 thing show plainer y r Dixie s pitiful detachment from 
 the worrld s worrk ? Man ! you ve lost all thought o 
 leading." 
 
 "A people," began Philip, beamingly approved by 
 Rosalie, "may seem not to lead when really " 
 
 "Really never mind," said the Scot. "Ye re de- 
 layin the tale. Mr. Durel and I had come down, I say 
 through all y r wonderful fifty years growth in 
 mines, crops, railways, bawnks, schools, libraries, thea 
 tres, mills to what was once the tap-root o the whole 
 business " 
 
 Philip laughed: "Oh, yes, the darkey." 
 
 "Ay, him. The ball and chain on poor Dixie s leg. 
 The tap-root, which, tap-root like, has been absorbed 
 into the tree it produced swallowed up by it till 
 now, willy-nilly, darkeys or none, ye re Dixie to stay; 
 a Sunny South sun-baked; a civilization that, after 
 all s said, no new people would ever dream o copyin ." 
 
 The three hearers were incensed. Philip flashed. 
 He and Rosalie began to speak but ceased. The Scot 
 had given them the fellowship of a common resentment. 
 Yet courtesy triumphed and madame, with an air of 
 
 36 
 
IN THE BLAZE OF DAY 
 
 absolute innocence, inquired : " You ave no pollytickle 
 miztake yonder accrozz the h-ocean?" 
 
 "Madame, we rrreek wi mistakes; God help the peo 
 ple who fawncy they don t or that their ache is not the 
 worrld s ache. But" the fault-finder turned to Rosa 
 lie "your story ! Your father bade me ask it of you. 
 He d begun to tell me how much better y r Dixie has 
 hawndled her black millions than ever y r North did, 
 when says I : Hold ! In this lawnd of overdone indi- 
 veedualism how many indweedual darkeys has y r 
 Dixie lifted up out o the common mawss to inspire 
 and lead the rest ? And when he hemmed and swal 
 lowed and I broke in to tell o this man Lawndry, bless 
 me ! I find Lawndry was once, madame, a bond-slave 
 in your father s family." 
 
 Madame smiled a lovely pride. " Yes, tis true." 
 The wheel-chair turned and stopped at the rail over 
 looking the ocean. Miss Castleton s chair came beside 
 it, and the three Durels, led by Rosalie, told the tale. 
 
 37 
 
VIII 
 STRIKING CHORDS AND DISCORDS 
 
 OVIDE lived at the back of his second-hand bookshop 
 in Chartres Street, New Orleans, about as far above 
 the cathedral, monsieur said, as Zephire Durel s Orleans 
 Street rooms were behind it. 
 
 He was a pure-blooded negro of seventy, born the 
 slave of Mme. Durel s father and from infancy had been 
 allotted to her elder brother as playmate and body- 
 servant. The master had permitted his son, and later 
 his little daughter, to teach the lad as much of their 
 schooling as he cared to learn and when the slave 
 proved the brighter pupil 
 
 "Egad 1" murmured the Scot. 
 
 "Ah!" said madame, "that sometime tranzpire , 
 that pic-uliarity whiles young," and Rosalie spoke on. 
 
 The slave boy was offered his freedom. This meant 
 more in Louisiana than in any other slave State, yet 
 the lad refused his liberty. Later he went with his 
 two masters, father and son, to the war in Virginia, 
 and in less than a year brought them home dead. In 
 New Orleans, in 63, he was a freedman, and in 66, 
 two years before Enfranchisement, he had entered po 
 litical life as secretary to a State treasurer. Through 
 the whole Reconstruction period he had gained a par- 
 
 38 
 

 STRIKING CHORDS AND DISCORDS 
 
 ticipant s knowledge of the State s inmost history and 
 throughout that cyclone of corruption had led an up 
 right life, owing his integrity first to his mother and 
 then, only less, to the little maiden now this grand mere 
 of Rosalie. In the scramble for office his uprightness 
 had unfailingly crowded him out, yet his talents had 
 kept him in the public service. During all that period 
 he had been private secretary to this or that lieutenant- 
 governor, the lieutenant-governorship being uniformly 
 conceded to a negro. Even in later years he had been 
 called, from time to time, into momentary secretarial 
 service because of his expert intimacy with a labyrin 
 thine past. Now he was reduced to shopkeeping, yet 
 of the most congenial sort, the Durels felt sure, that he 
 could have found. 
 
 Rosalie waved a hand; the tale was ended. And she 
 was glad. Her love for her half-sick father quickened 
 her to perceive that the Scot, the story, and somehow 
 Philip, too, had got his nerves on edge. 
 
 "And since long time," madame commented, "a 
 sizter to the wife of Ovide is one of my housemaid ." 
 
 Monsieur smiled faintly to the Scot. "Well?" 
 
 " Tis a tragedy, Mr. Durel, to the seeing eye." 
 
 "And teaching us what?" 
 
 "Ah, that s for you and y r Dixie to say. Such 
 things, anywhere, have to come by the thousand to 
 teach much." 
 
 "To those who don t care to learn, eh?" 
 
 The Creole was courtesy itself. Only Rosalie and 
 Miss Castleton discerned his irritation. 
 
 39 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 The Soot turned to Philip: "What does it teach 
 you?" 
 
 Rosalie broke in, all gayety : "That it is going to rain 
 before a month ! " 
 
 "And that the sea is wide and deep !" Philip put in. 
 
 But M. Durel, not even himself recognizing that for 
 a reason well concealed he was fighting down an im 
 pulse to be fond of the youth, repeated Murray s chal 
 lenge: 
 
 "What does it teach, Mr. Cazzleton, thad story?" 
 
 "Why, I m not sure/ said Philip. "It lights up a 
 new view to which I ve long been coming." 
 
 His aunt was suddenly, prettily, anxious, though her 
 words were slow and soft. " Oh, Phil, I don t like new 
 views! The truth isn t new. Truth is eternal!" 
 
 "True, auntie !" he said with playful finality. 
 
 But M. Durel, with the same courtesy as before, in 
 sisted: "Ah, but still, views, we can state them, eh?" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so," Philip began again; but again 
 he stopped. Yet why ? The conversation was flowing 
 naturally. He forgot to Rosalie s exquisite annoy 
 ance that conversation flows not by nature but by 
 art. His eyes were not on her, yet he saw her. Her 
 eyes were not on him, yet he saw in them a warning, to 
 him, to be silent. On the other hand, he perceived 
 also that his aunt saw the warning, and both in Rosa 
 lie s defense and in scorn of subtlety he spoke. For 
 what could he say about Ovide or any of his heart* 
 wearying race, to which either she or her father could 
 object? "Well," he said with a gay frown, "if tin 
 
 40 
 
STRIKING CHORDS AND DISCORDS 
 
 company enjoys views Ovide, for me, shows this fact 
 which needs to be shown; that whereas " 
 
 "Ah!" cried Rosalie, "resolved that whereas !" 
 
 "Whereas," repeated Philip, "our old South could 
 give him no worthy, no American freedom, nor the 
 North give him an American freedom over the New 
 South s head, the New South crowds him half-way 
 down again to his old slavery and " 
 
 "And points wi pride," unluckily put in the Scot. 
 
 It was one word too many. The Creole gracefully 
 lifted a hand. "Yes ! And yet even down in Dixie 
 we don point those thing to the stranger. And me, I 
 muz confess me astonizh to find here in the North 
 a Louisianian to say such a thing like that !" 
 
 "Dear me, sir!" the Scot began, but Philip checked 
 him. Madame and Miss Castleton sat in blank dis 
 may while between them Rosalie laughingly cried: 
 
 " And that s the last on that subject ! Ha, ha, papa, 
 you are not so astonished as hungry ! Already tis 
 time for lunch, and mere s present is yet unfound ! " 
 
 Shortly afterward, alone in her closed room, her self- 
 command ebbed low. Standing at her dressing-table, 
 with tremulous hand she lifted from it one dainty 
 appliance after another, of silver or ivory, and then 
 laid it down again, helpless to remind herself what it 
 was for. At a window that looked down upon the 
 thronged Boardwalk and the big surf beyond it she 
 gazed but did not see. She looked across the ocean 
 to its farthest margin, yet saw only with memory s 
 eye; saw a young man, shapely, strong, mute, flushed, 
 
 41 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 facing her father, not letting his own eyes appeal, for 
 an instant, to any others, even to hers. Coming again 
 to the toilet-table she sat down, and in her native 
 tongue said to its mirror, silently: 
 
 "What of it? What of it? What matters it to 
 you, Rosalie Durel?" She left her seat and again 
 began to handle things absently, while her pulse 
 throbbed the mute confession: " Twas never like this 
 before. Never like " A touch on her door-knob 
 a gentle call. 
 
 "Oui! Go you both down," she answered. "I m 
 coming." 
 
 Yet she tarried. Idly she opened a drawer, idly 
 closed it. She stepped toward the door, but near it 
 stopped to listen. From far away seemed to come a 
 faint, sweet warbling. Could it be real ? Was it illu 
 sion? She listened more intently, within, without. 
 Then after a deep breath she recovered herself and 
 opened the door. Suddenly the sweet far carol was 
 near a trivial reality some woman s captive bird in 
 a room across the corridor. Nevertheless, down at 
 lunch she made no mention of birds. Unlike Philip 
 Castleton, a girl, a Creole girl, knows better. Little 
 birds are not to be trusted. They tell too much. 
 
 42 
 
IX 
 
 AND AGAIN, IN FLIGHT 
 
 THE sun swung low, grew red and vast in a wide 
 splendor of sea and sky, touched the horizon, sank, 
 filled the world with the light that sets lovers longing, 
 and was gone. 
 
 Out that way, with Vanity Fair miles behind him, 
 Philip, afoot on the narrowed Boardwalk, went on and 
 on, alone with his vexation. When at length he faced 
 round, the stars were coming out. The distant city 
 began to glitter. Some fifty yards before him a soli 
 tary wheel-chair also had turned townward. Its two 
 occupants, father and daughter, had seen him a good 
 half-hour earlier and without either of them hinting 
 for better speed had hoped to overtake him. Now, 
 retracing their way, their still unbetrayed hope was 
 that they might be overtaken. But Philip, hot yet 
 after the forenoon s incident, kept his distance lest by 
 one chance in a thousand the lone chair might hold 
 just those two whom in fact it held. 
 
 So he reached his hotel and they reached theirs. 
 The beautiful night came on. After dinner the judge 
 and his daughter played backgammon while Philip 
 close by tried to work on a lecture, haunted by the 
 knowledge that the irrepressible Scot, at the other 
 hotel, had hunted down or was stalking the Durels. 
 
 43 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 At length Murray reappeared, explaining why he had 
 not gone the Ventnor way at sunset, and telling what 
 a rich conversation he had just been having with the 
 three Creoles about social New Orleans and its lam 
 entable Americanization of manners. Unsmilingly he 
 consulted his note-book and recounted with what droll 
 innocence they had misnamed some things; called sole 
 cisms " indecorances " and gross manners " corrupt prac 
 tices." One remark he had stopped under a Boardwalk 
 lamp to record in full, and the gravity with which he 
 read it out gave Philip the best laugh he had had since 
 M. Durel s "astonizhment." It was the lament of 
 the elder Durels that "the younger generation of 
 Creole , they follow their incline to persuade their 
 parent to led them go their own way in the new 
 Ammerican fashion." 
 
 But Murray s most stirring communication was 
 made to Philip apart when the judge and the aunt had 
 resumed the dice to complete their final rubber. It 
 was then that he told how, accompanied on the piano 
 by grand mere, Rosalie, entreated by certain young 
 people who had found out her talent, had sung French 
 and English songs for them, and a Scotch one for him ! 
 When he said good night to Miss Castleton she added 
 to her reciprocation a bit of news that drew from him 
 eager but vain protests. 
 
 Outside Philip s windows and his aunt s and M. 
 Durel s and Rosalie s a silver glory poured down on 
 wave and Boardwalk, laid sleep on thousands of eyes, 
 wore through the small hours into dawn and flushed 
 
 44 
 
AND AGAIN, IN FLIGHT 
 
 into day. Then, while it was yet morning a train 
 porter at Vanity Fair s chief railway-station led the 
 Castletons aboard a Philadelphia train and showed 
 them seats seven, nine, and eleven. But the aunt de 
 murred: "Why, those are not our numbers." 
 
 " Yass m, you-all name D jurel, ain t you ? " 
 
 "Our name is Castleton." 
 
 "Law , tubby sho I Here yo -all s seat; eight, ten, 
 twel here come sebm, nine, elebm now!" 
 
 And the Castletons and the Durels, each fleeing 
 homeward from the other, sat down face to face. The 
 train moved. Philip promptly believed the Durel part 
 of the matter was Rosalie s doing, and in a way he was 
 right. Candidly, she had been a bit subtle. Her 
 Boardwalk chase after him in the sunset, and her 
 equally vain loitering for him back again in the twi 
 light, had given her as keen an indignation against 
 him as she fancied he still harbored against her father; 
 and when at the hotel dinner-table she saw " Let us go 
 home by the first train to-morrow" hovering on mon 
 sieur s brow, she had hastened to say it herself. 
 
 "Yes," she added, "here is no rest for you. Better 
 even the bank. Let us go." 
 
 So here they were. The moment she sighted Miss 
 Castleton she knew who on that side was to blame. Yet 
 it suited her mood to blame Philip also, and so she gave 
 each of them the whole burden. Not so monsieur or 
 grand mere; they put it undividedly where it belonged. 
 For they had an old reason, older than Rosalie, and to 
 her unknown. Naturally, there were good-mornings 
 
 45 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 all round, gayety over the encounter, and secret joy on 
 finding, soon, that one group was going the Richmond 
 route, the other the Chattanooga. Their ways would 
 divide in a few hours at Washington. 
 
 Good-by also to Vanity Fair. They crossed the* In 
 let. The sea-marshes, in delicate hues of spring, im 
 mersed in morning sunlight and braided with the colors 
 of the sky on pools and streams, well justified the atten 
 tion which Rosalie besought grand mere to give them, 
 an attention that afforded the Castletons comfortable 
 opportunities to contemplate, obliquely, two perfect 
 Creole necks under masses of dark hair. But Rosalie 
 must have had a power of vision besides that of the 
 eyes, for when Philip silently showed the judge a cigar, 
 and the two men started for the smoking-compartment, 
 she turned from the landscape to her father and said, 
 wholly with the eye: 
 
 "Now is your time. For your own sake, for the 
 Durel name, for the old Creole courtesies, not for his 
 sake and, above all, not for mine." 
 
 A minute later the banker, also with a cigar, stepped 
 inside the smoking-room curtain. Philip hurriedly 
 rose, the judge kept his seat, and the Creole spoke: 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton, I diz-ire, for the firz j time in my 
 life, to ap-ologize." 
 
 Philip colored. "Oh, Mr. Durel, I had no right to 
 astonish you." He reddened more. "At least I " 
 
 "Yes. ... You had the right. ... Me, I had 
 no right to be astonizh after that manner." The 
 banker offered a hand. 
 
 46 
 
AND AGAIN, IN FLIGHT 
 
 Philip caught it. His eyes seemed to have some 
 thing fine to utter, but his lips failed to deliver it, and 
 the banker waved it away. The judge stood up, 
 smokers courtesies followed, and monsieur, as he blew 
 his first puff, sat down between the other two. Said 
 the judge for a start: 
 
 "This region is what the artists call very pain table/ 
 
 The Creole puffed again. 
 
 "Flat lands," said Philip, "generally are. Mr. Mur 
 ray wonders why Louisiana doesn t attract the paint 
 
 ers." 
 
 Contemplating his cigar M. Durel slowly remarked : 
 "Men paint best their own lands. Louisiana is wait 
 ing to be paint by a Louisianian." 
 
 "Just what I told him !" said Philip. 
 
 "And w at he said? . . . Ah, come! That man he 
 cannot astonizh me. He said w at ? " 
 
 "He asked why she should wait two hundred years." 
 
 The Creole straightened up. "That was to trap you 
 aggain into politic !" 
 
 Philip s amusement grew. "No; he knows I don t 
 need to be trapped. Mr. Durel, I think we Southern 
 ers ought to welcome outside criticism." 
 
 " Ah, you think ? For w at ? " 
 
 "Well, maybe we don t know our own case perfectly 
 yet. If we do, why can t we state it more convinc 
 ingly?" 
 
 "We don t need. To know, tha z enough." 
 
 " Really, is it ? Don t we need also to cure it ? " 
 
 "We are curing it." 
 
 47 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "H mm! are we? We ve got some mighty soft old 
 spots in our political lungs; grandfather clauses one- 
 party elections unwritten, unwritable laws and it 
 doesn t help us a bit to tell every Mr. Murray who no 
 tices our cough that all social systems are more or less 
 tuberculous. Let Mr. Murray say that." He turned 
 to his grandfather. "I wish they d notice us more. 
 I m tired of our isolation." 
 
 "You call the New South isolate ?" asked monsieur. 
 
 "Yes, the newest ! and I m tired of the world s con 
 sent to it. It looks like despair of us. I want our 
 policy discussed in the world s forum. Don t you, 
 judge?" 
 
 The judge smiled; his reply was tardy. "I don t see 
 what this has to do with landscapes," he said. 
 
 "Not a thing!" Philip eagerly agreed. "Now I 
 owe Mr. Durel an apology." 
 
 " No," said the Creole, " on the contrary." The talk 
 had been longer than here appears and the cigar he 
 tossed from the window was well used up. "Mr. Caz- 
 zleton, in some rigard you are like yo father." 
 
 Philip rose briskly. He fancied a hint of something 
 unflattering in the remark. "You knew my father?" 
 
 "In a public way, yes." The banker turned to 
 the judge. "I think the son is, like the father was, a 
 litt bit doctrinaire, eh ? " He smiled back to Philip. 
 
 "Yes," said the judge, evidently referring to an 
 earlier personal contact, "enough for some old-fashioned 
 beliefs; rule of the majority, for instance." 
 
 "Majority of the whole people," Philip gayly put in. 
 48 
 
AND AGAIN, IN FLIGHT 
 
 "Ah!" cried monsieur, "me likewise I Only tha z 
 providing what you call the whole people. ... I be 
 lieve I ll riturn to my ladies." He went. 
 
 The two kinsmen resumed their seats. "Well!" 
 laughed Philip, "that s the gracefulest way I was ever 
 dubbed a fool. Were he and my father friends or 
 what?" 
 
 "Hardly either. I ll tell you about that some day." 
 
 "Humph! He certainly doesn t take any shine to 
 
 me." 
 
 "I think he only wishes he didn t." 
 " Why, what for ? Can t you tell me that ? " 
 "Not now; we haven t finished about the landscape." 
 Other smokers came in. When the pair returned to 
 Miss Castleton, Philip was surprised to find M. Durel 
 in his, Philip s, seat, conversing with her; but the sur 
 prise was redoubled when monsieur, instead of rising, 
 waved him into a seat between madame and Rosalie. 
 
 49 
 
HOMEWARD 
 
 AFTER all, it was not so very inexplicable, Philip s 
 unsought privilege. For his new seat was just opposite 
 his aunt, while madame faced the judge, and Rosalie 
 her father. 
 
 At the same time, if monsieur had manoeuvred this 
 he had done so as gracefully as he had called Philip 
 that hard name in the smoking-room. The young 
 man s surprise faded. For what could a young man 
 and a maiden talk about thus besieged? Yet he re 
 minded himself that this was merely the old Creole 
 way. He thoroughly liked the absence of all sign of 
 that modernism whose devotees "follow their incline 
 to persuade their parent " 
 
 Rosalie mentioned the perfect weather. Down in 
 New Orleans it would be far warmer, yet quite as per 
 fect. Loyalty could say no less. Philip, copying the 
 judge, remarked how paintable the landscape was. 
 
 "I think all flat lands are so, don t you?" 
 
 Oh, she thought so! Assuredly! She had noticed 
 enjoyed in him a habit of brightening as his words 
 grew serious and observed it now while he said: 
 
 "As for Louisiana, with a something I don t 
 know an almost tragic quality in her woods and 
 
 skies " 
 
 50 
 
HOMEWARD 
 
 She broke in: "Ah, Louisiana ! the most pain table in 
 the world ! Sister Claude, my drawing-teacher in the 
 convent, assured me that. * 
 
 Convent ! Across the aisle Miss Castleton inwardly 
 winced, but to Philip the main point was the vastness 
 of Louisiana s claim. "Well, at any rate," he began. 
 
 "Ah, of course, in the world there are so many flat 
 lands, and Sister Claude has never been from the city 
 she probably exaggerated without suspecting." 
 
 Both M. Durel and Miss Castleton, seemingly im 
 mersed in their own conversation, kept an alert ear for 
 a certain sign in Philip, a measuring of hours as months, 
 of days as years the lover s note; and in the next 
 breath, quite unconsciously, it came. His voice sof 
 tened. "That reminds me of the first thing we ever 
 talked about together. You remember, don t you?" 
 
 " When was that ? I suppose we didn t agree, eh ? " 
 
 "Why, didn t we? About us Southerners needing 
 to study other regions and peoples to know ourselves 
 better?" 
 
 "Ah! to study anything is bad enough, but the 
 North already I am fatigued studying the North ! " 
 
 "A bird may get fatigued singing. You do, I sup 
 pose. But you get rested again." 
 
 " Who told you I can sing ? Was that Mr. Murray ? 
 
 "Yes, he says you re the leading voice in the cathe 
 dral choir." 
 
 "H mm. Pere Racine allows me that privilege. I 
 am compelled to sing somewhere. I would perish, not 
 singing." 
 
 51 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Philip lightened to praise song in contrast to study, 
 but she, mindful of the hearers he had forgotten, said: 
 
 "Have you thought again of those oh those re 
 gions and peoples? * 
 
 "Oh, yes," he laughed. "Thanks to Mr. Murray, 
 that thought s grown a tail since then." 
 
 "A " She caught breath and then sparkled: 
 "Wag it!" 
 
 "Oh," said Philip, "it s visible only to the ear and 
 quite too political to wag under the circumstances." 
 
 "On the contrary! Tis the best circumstance and 
 the best kind to wag ! " Then with a gravity so abrupt, 
 genuine, and lustrous that Philip s heart beat con 
 sciously, the challenger added : " I like politics. I read 
 them always in the paper. Tell me that one political 
 thought!" 
 
 "Why, it s only the other one turned round. I 
 spoke it just now to your father that we Southerners 
 ought to be glad to be studied, even to be criticised, 
 by outsiders far and near." Smilingly he warmed: 
 "You know " 
 
 But she could not wait. "You should write about 
 that ! I am sure you d be pretty soon able to write as 
 good as some of those reporters." 
 
 "I hope so," responded Philip, but his glow had 
 faded and he was again aware of the pair across the 
 aisle. It would have pleased him to tell her and let 
 her father hear it if he chose! that two reviews at 
 that moment had his pages in type. But he forbore. 
 His aunt might have told that much for him, but she 
 
 52 
 
HOMEWARD 
 
 seemed profoundly engrossed as a listener to monsieur, 
 who was speaking of artichokes or something. 
 
 "Shall I tell you," Philip asked, "what I think the 
 right man, the right Southerner, ought to do? My 
 father, a lawyer, like the judge, planned to do it. He d 
 already gathered a lot of material, when " 
 
 "Yes," said Rosalie, both sympathetic and eager. 
 
 It is wonderful on what dry hay not Bottom only 
 but Titania herself can feed and thrive without either 
 of them suspecting, or suspecting any one else of sus 
 pecting, what is really going on. Under the spell of 
 Rosalie s questionings and marvellings and with a 
 growing enjoyment which largely offset the topic s dry- 
 ness, Philip unfolded his father s design. It had been 
 to put forth primarily in the South s own behalf, of 
 course a small, terse book interesting only to the 
 very earnest. 
 
 " Yes !" murmured Rosalie, leaning forward intently. 
 
 The book, Philip went on to say, was to have stated 
 in geometrical bareness "The Southern Theorem," a 
 clear, detailed plan of what the South wants to do, so 
 cially, politically, in order to fill her place in the world s 
 and America s progress, and a full moral, logical, prac 
 tical justification of it through illuminating compari 
 sons with the experiments of other peoples in other 
 regions. 
 
 "Regions," whispered Rosalie absorbedly. 
 
 53 
 
XI 
 
 A BRIEF WAY TOGETHER 
 
 " UNDER like or unlike conditions," continued Philip. 
 "But my father had felt this same need to see, him 
 self, those other experiments and regions " 
 
 Rosalie s compassionate murmur came again: "Re 
 gions " 
 
 "And on seeking counsel with other men he found 
 Northerners so uninterested and compliant and South 
 erners so eager to tell what the South must never, 
 never do or suffer to be done, that he had hardly penned 
 a line when " 
 
 (t )r 
 
 Twas too late ! " sighed the fair listener and sank 
 back in meditation. "Our Southern Question is the 
 greatest in the world. . . . You don t think so ? " 
 
 That he would say exactly what he did think she 
 seemed unable to doubt. His quiet way of growing 
 luminous where most men would grow dark dull 
 may have meant little to a stranger glancing over the 
 top of his magazine three seats away, or even to M. 
 Durel or Miss Castleton, though at this point their 
 own conversation failed and they openly looked and 
 listened; but to Rosalie, rightly or wrongly, it implied 
 in him a latent, masculine modesty, fearlessness, kind 
 ness, and integrity so four-square and so happily bal 
 anced that, whatever he talked of, she wanted to hear 
 
 54 
 

 A BRIEF WAY TOGETHER 
 
 him. Her guarded vivacity betrayed this want to the 
 two listeners as Philip said: 
 
 "The setting sun last evening gave me thoughts." 
 At that mention something passed between them too 
 spiritual for any outward sense, yet both kept their 
 balance. 
 
 " Twas glorious ! " said the girl. " Papa and I saw 
 it together. I could think of nothing else ! " 
 
 "And you remember, don t you, how we talked yes 
 terday with Mr. Murray? Well, he made me sore!" 
 They laughed. "And as I saw that sun in all his 
 glory no bigger than a cart-wheel, I thought how right 
 it is that to us humans" facing monsieur to include 
 him he drew also the attention of madame and the 
 judge "our own little world should seem bigger than 
 the sun, and that to us Southerners our Dixie should 
 seem the biggest piece of the world." 
 
 "And yet," smilingly put in the judge, "there s a 
 right way for it to seem so and a wrong way." 
 
 "Indeed, yes!" madame chimed in as though they 
 two had been talking of nothing else all along. 
 
 "And that right way is what?" asked Rosalie. 
 She asked the judge, but the quick reply came from 
 Miss Castleton, with a smile of emotional invincibility: 
 
 "That is as Dixie, in her divine right, may decide!" 
 
 "Ah, positively !" said Mme. Durel, while Philip and 
 the judge fondly laughed and the two other Durels 
 forbore. With courtly gravity monsieur addressed 
 Philip: 
 
 "Tha z your opinion also? ... No?" 
 55 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 The youth gave half his reply to his questioner, the 
 remainder to Rosalie. "No, sir; oh, no. In my notion 
 Dixie s to us rightly the biggest piece of the world be 
 cause it s that part for which we re answerable to the 
 world. So I say let s court criticism. Let s study 
 others experiments. For we re answerable to the 
 world by the world s standards unless our own are bet 
 ter; not feel better but are better; better for the world." 
 
 The aunt sighed but could still smile regretfully 
 to the Durels while saying: "My boy, they are better ! 
 We re answerable to ourselves and our Creator I" 
 
 "Oh, of course, but through the world that we re 
 a piece of hold on! Now, gentlemen" he almost 
 laughed "I didn t start this." 
 
 " Twas I started it," said Rosalie. 
 
 "Anyhow, auntie, let s not say the world, let s say 
 the nation. Dixie isn t a nation or a government. 
 The American Government and nation are answerable 
 for us, Dixie, to the world of nations and governments 
 and we re answerable to America; so answerable that 
 we can t reach over her head or behind her back to 
 answer even to heaven." He faced Rosalie: "Heaven 
 won t take our answer that way." 
 
 "Why, Phil, you re almost sacrilegious." 
 
 "So were the prophets, auntie." He turned again 
 to the girl: "But I m neither a prophet nor a pedant." 
 
 At that they all contrived to laugh. "You are 
 only " began Rosalie, but her father, in open irony, 
 prompted: 
 
 "A good Southerner!" 
 
 56 
 
A BRIEF WAY TOGETHER 
 
 Philip both smiled and reddened. "No, I m more be 
 sides. I m an American citizen on the American plan." 
 
 Under cover of another laugh the four seniors paired 
 off again, and the man with the magazine, seeing Rosa 
 lie about to query Philip, spread his ears. "American 
 plan?" she asked. "What means that when it don t 
 mean hotel?" 
 
 " Oh to one man it s one thing, to another, another. 
 To me it s three. Shall I name them? They re for 
 midable: the Constitution, the Declaration, and the 
 Moral Law. If that makes me a political prig " 
 
 "You can t help that !" she said, dropping her hands 
 despairingly into her lap, and for reply he clapped a 
 palm on an arm of his chair. 
 
 Rosalie tipped her head, an action which invariably 
 tipped his heart, and softly chanted, "Do, mi, sol," 
 suiting a keyboard gesture to the notes. 
 
 Philip beamed. "That s it, and that s all !" 
 
 It gave her courage to venture on. "Those three 
 formidables," she said, "they are your political " 
 
 " Key ! " he cried, " chords ! I ask no one to tune his 
 politics to mine if he ll only tune to those." 
 
 She meditated. She knew his eyes studied her, and 
 when she looked up she did it slowly, giving his look 
 time to grow mild. "That would be beautiful," she 
 said, "if the whole world could think in tune, eh? 
 like singing?" 
 
 "Yes," he murmured and this was the farthest into 
 enchanted ground they strolled on the half-day s jour 
 ney "yes, but no two need wait for the rest." 
 
 57 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 " You think not ? she parried. " I don t know much 
 about politics." 
 
 The words had hardly fallen when he, bending to 
 the window, exclaimed: "Why, if this isn t Philadel 
 phia!" 
 
 So ended the first hour, to their two sidelong listeners 
 how tardily, to themselves how much too soon ! Be 
 yond Philadelphia, to M. Durel s discomfort, they 
 dropped The Southern Theorem and roamed through a 
 whole garden of lighter topics opera, superstitions, 
 chocolate-creams, strikes, "Hamlet," dog-shows, aero 
 planes, purgatory, whales, votes for women, whelks, 
 and the judicial settlement of international disputes. 
 
 Themes were nothing the one point was to converse. 
 On the butterfly wings of chit-chat, round about each 
 other their spirits fluttered, now close to earth, now in 
 the clouds, measuring and calculating by what fairy 
 triangulations and spectroscopy ! the stature, breadth, 
 weight, and substance of their two souls. 
 
 To Rosalie the experience was tingling adventure. In 
 easy tete-a-tete with the only man she had ever looked 
 on as by any final chance a welcome suitor, she saw in 
 him, through her father s eyes, a "doctrinaire" well on 
 his way to become a political outcast. With a touch 
 of awe she perceived that he was but just painfully 
 discovering himself to be an advocate of the ground 
 principles, at least, of a suppressed political party; a 
 party long held to earth under the odium of its old 
 post-bellum corruptions, its every element hobbled by 
 an open chicanery of Dixie s own white-handed cham- 
 
 58 
 
A BRIEF WAY TOGETHER 
 
 pions which disfranchised millions of its rank and 
 file, good, bad, literate, illiterate, taxpayers and hand- 
 to-mouth poor, whose right of citizenship, wisely or 
 unwisely, was written in the national constitution. 
 
 Outwardly arch, she was inwardly all compassion. 
 Why should he, so fitted to live nobly and happily, fret 
 his lone soul over complacent Dixie s "cough" his 
 own term when, as he admitted, every body politic 
 the world around has some grave symptom or bad 
 habit, yet manages to stagger along through political 
 storm and night from one dark makeshift to another 
 as from lamp-post to lamp-post? Why could he not 
 adapt to his and her beloved Dixie a great man s 
 jest, that "God takes care of the lame, the lazy, and 
 the United States "? . 
 
 On the other hand, if the youth must meddle, why 
 should she mind ? These were probably the last hours 
 they two would ever spend together. "Hah ! politics ! " 
 She actually wanted to revert to them; not for long ever 
 again, yet long enough once more for a query or two 
 on plain human rights as he saw them, or might be 
 led to see them if he really was so eager for truth and 
 justice. But when she would have led he held back, 
 and as he did so the car-windows darkened. "What ! " 
 he said, "Baltimore already?" 
 
 It was. And when it was long past it seemed not 
 far behind as he began, while chatting on in his school 
 boy way, to glance across the fields for something he 
 would not name, hoping to enjoy her surprise. " We ll 
 be on a long curve," he said, "and stop! Isn t this 
 
 59 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 the very one? . . . No." He set their seats abreast 
 and they watched the sky-line shoulder to shoulder. 
 Now he glanced over his chair-back: "I wish you d see 
 it, too, auntie and Mr. Durel." 
 
 Now watching again, "Look!" he exclaimed to Ro 
 salie, "away yonder!" and then to the four seniors: 
 "There!" 
 
 White as a snow-peak as an angel the apparition 
 stood against the noon blue. Rosalie drew a sigh of 
 delight, turned, cried to father and grand mere, "The 
 Capitol !" and turned again to gaze. 
 
 "Zion, I call it," said Philip, and when two strangers 
 looked over two magazines he added : " It has many an 
 inner stain, but so had Zion, hadn t it, auntie?" 
 
 "Ah, Phil!" 
 
 "Well," he boyishly insisted, gazing at the vision, 
 "to my mind yonder s the holiest hill this side of Zion, 
 and whoever sins against it, inside it or outside it, sins 
 as straight into God s face as a man can." 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" wearily murmured the banker, with 
 a glance at madame. 
 
 "Tisn t quite the Divine Providence, is it, Phil?" 
 the judge smilingly asked. 
 
 The zealot laughed : " Oh, you ! you re speaking for 
 auntie ! It s mighty near it. It s the National Provi 
 dence." 
 
 "Well," Rosalie sighed, "the national providence is 
 vanished round the turn." 
 
 With brushes and obeisances the porter came, and 
 presently the voyagers had parted, three and three, 
 
 60 
 
A BRIEF WAY TOGETHER 
 
 In a well-filled dining-car the two magazine readers 
 sat face to face at lunch. One talked so busily that 
 when a group of three took seats at his back he kept 
 straight on despite his companion s covert gestures of 
 warning. 
 
 "Now, I m not saying a word against New Orleans. 
 The way that city s improved, these last twenty years 
 in a business way is miraculous. I only say that 
 for a New Orleans man he s queer. But it makes little 
 odds where he lives or is going to live, he s booked for 
 all the trouble he can take care of. You heard him. 
 National providence hunh ! maybe I sin against his 
 national providence now and then when I see money 
 in it, but I can say to my credit that I never yet shot 
 up a drawing-room car exclusively with my mouth. 
 He ought to see that new play, A Fool by Choice/ 
 don t you know ? " 
 
 Later, in the smoking-room: "Oh, of course, if I d 
 known his back was right against name / wouldn t have 
 talked so much with my mouth. But we all do that 
 one time or another, don t you know?" 
 
 "That s right," said the quieter man. 
 
 1 
 
XII 
 AND AT HOME ON DRESS PARADE 
 
 "HOME again/ said Philip as the Castletons sat 
 down at their own board while the flowers of their own 
 garden, tossing their perfumes before them, climbed in 
 at every window. The words were more comforting 
 than new. 
 
 Possibly Philip, like Socrates, was "too great to care 
 to be original." And so may have been Rosalie, who 
 that same day in Esplanade Avenue dropped the same 
 remark. 
 
 Said the judge in reply to Philip: "All the way com 
 ing into the city, through those great deforested swamps 
 that they are turning into orange-groves " 
 
 " And those miles of new streets filling up with costly 
 new dwellings/ the youth interrupted. 
 
 "Unenclosed/ Miss Castleton smilingly lamented. 
 
 "And some of which," suggested Philip, "are convul 
 sions of exotic architecture." 
 
 The judge smiled in turn. " Phil, I ll give you a good 
 rule of life: Keep your rhetoric for compliments." 
 
 "And don t superfluously sass your own town?" 
 
 "That s it. It s too much like " 
 
 "Like a small boy kicking his nurse s shins ? I think 
 so myself. Well, you say, all the way coming into the 
 city what? Both auntie and I noticed you were 
 thinking hard." 
 
AND AT HOME ON DRESS PARADE 
 
 "Did you? I was thinking of the day I came back, 
 paroled, at the close of the war. New Orleans is more 
 than twice the size it was then. She s widened to the 
 lake, she s lengthened up river and down, she s trans 
 formed her harbor with docks, elevators, and steam 
 shipping 
 
 "Couldn t have done any of it without a national 
 providence," said Philip saucily. 
 
 "Well, the fact remains. She s risen into the air 
 and drained the soil underfoot and grown down into 
 it. We ve banished Yellow Jack and made our health 
 rate first-rate or nearly so; we drink filtered water, 
 we can all speak English, and living below Canal Street 
 no longer means you re Creole, or living above it some 
 thing else." 
 
 "I wish it did," sighed the aunt, pleasantly enough. 
 She seemed to Philip to be on her guard against men 
 tion of the Durels, but maybe that was only because 
 he longed for it. Had the Durels, madame, for in 
 stance Mile. Ducatel, as she once had been anything 
 to do with that old war-time home-coming of the boy- 
 lieutenant now the gray judge? Philip would have 
 liked to ask, but his aunt spoke on: 
 
 "Father, let s all three settle now whether to accept 
 the Smiths invitation to share a box with them a week 
 from to-night at the French Opera House." 
 
 " Opera ? This time of year ? " 
 
 "No, but quite as important; that big charity con 
 cert." 
 
 The debate was brief. "I know what auntie thinks, 
 63 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 judge. She thinks we d like to go whether we have 
 to or not, and have to go whether we d like to or not." 
 
 And so they went. Fear of the Durels haunted the 
 lady, but one couldn t flee one s kind for fear of Durels. 
 The French Opera House, once the New Opera House, 
 throne-room of Creole society in the old Creole days, 
 built in the French manner boxes all around and from 
 floor to ceiling and still devoted mainly to French 
 opera, was down in the heart of the old Creole quarter, 
 whence the Creoles, as residents, have so largely dis 
 appeared. The night was very warm; but a merely 
 warm night never daunts a New Orleans audience; the 
 house was full. Louisiana s capital which can quote 
 Kipling but still holds to Byron Louisiana s social 
 capital, like Belgium s ninety-nine years before, had 
 gathered there banks and borders of human flowers 
 and heaped them from floor to roof the lily type and 
 the rose type, the latter of every tint of pink, white, 
 and red, in maidenly first bloom, in matronly full 
 bloom, behind a perpetual palpitation of fans that you 
 might have mistaken for an invasion of huinming-birds 
 from paradise. 
 
 How comfortable it was for the exclusives to mark, 
 without remark, the absence of Tom, Dick, and Harry, 
 and to exchange merry bows across the fluttering dis 
 tances with such social lights as the Browns, Grays, 
 Whites, Blancs, De Blancs, and Le Blancs! The or 
 chestra seats were as well filled with stockholders as on 
 a midwinter opera night, and central among them, 
 animating all demonstrations, shapely, handsome, still 
 
 64 
 
AND AT HOME ON DRESS PARADE 
 
 youthful, and large enough every way except when he 
 stood up, sat Zephire Durel. 
 
 Save for one darling violinist, whose Italian ardor, 
 from the tip of his bow to the tip of his toe, set the 
 house ablaze, the programme was wholly of song. The 
 city s most petted native vocalists were behind the 
 footlights. Every singer sang true and with fervor 
 chaleur ah! what is song without chaleur? Encores 
 outnumbered the numbers, bouquets arched and fell 
 like Roman candles and were snatched up in rapturous 
 amazement and bewildered gratitude amid renewed 
 thunders of acclaim. 
 
 Not a dry eye was in the house it was so warm! 
 Ladies burst their gloves and displayed the ruin with 
 ecstasy. Rosalie showed hers to mere, mere hers to 
 Rosalie, where they sat, with monsieur behind them, in 
 a box opposite the Castletons . They had bowed across 
 cordially before the performance began. To be social 
 was a tradition of the house, and to-night it was social 
 from the start. In the programme s mid-interval men 
 left their seats by flocks to visit about, the stockholders, 
 as usual, leading the movement, M. Durel and Zephire 
 doing their part, and Philip and the judge though, as 
 it chanced, without stock doing theirs. They two 
 and Zephire entered the Durel box together. 
 
 In it with madame and Rosalie were a young ma 
 tron, her husband and his brother, all Creoles of high 
 finish. The two men eagerly discussed with madame 
 and the judge the merits of the various performers. 
 Their encomiums were limited only by their efforts to 
 
 65 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 give them epigrammatic form in two languages. The 
 judge s inability to back their claim that the Creoles 
 of New Orleans were the best patrons, best critics, of 
 music, in America, brought gloom to their brows and 
 a touch of fierceness into their smiles of tolerance, but 
 twice and again madame spoke the perfect word of re 
 adjustment at the perfect moment, and mutual defer 
 ence shone again as double as the poet s swan and 
 shadow. 
 
 With Philip and Rosalie it was different. The un 
 bounded praises came from him. From her, the young 
 matron, and Zephire came more discriminative com 
 ments. Their criticisms, however, were unsympa 
 thetic, and hers, in particular, were so self-evident that 
 Philip found himself amusingly beyond his depth, as 
 he cheerfully confessed. Whereupon Rosalie diverted 
 the talk to history and pretty soon had Zephire boast 
 ing a natal gift for that sort of intellectual amusement, 
 not as a student, "Ah, non!" and "Hoh, no!" but as 
 a collector of old paintings, rare bindings, choice furni 
 ture. 
 
 "History," was the girl s comment to Philip, "is 
 your toil and Zephire s toy," a mot which the young 
 matron regarded as capital satire and Zephire accepted 
 as a well-deserved compliment. 
 
 Philip noticed something out of the common in the 
 cashier. One sign of it was the promptness with which 
 Zephire discerned, and showed he discerned, Philip s 
 and Rosalie s interest in each other. Even a hint of 
 commonness in his bearing was exceptional through 
 
 66 
 
AND AT HOME ON DRESS PARADE 
 
 the delicacy of the hint shoulders held the faintest 
 bit above an honest level, with elbows hung out the 
 faintest bit too far; the faintest bit of swagger in his 
 somewhat too vibratory neck and waist, the faintest 
 bit of naughtiness in his laugh, yet the whole combina 
 tion so faintly apparent that probably no relative had 
 ever inferred the elements of character it implied to 
 him, Philip. To a second cousin Zephire s most in 
 gratiating trait was his frequent outspokenness. In 
 his boastings of himself he was almost aggressive: as 
 inwardly convinced as a cardinal and as frank as the 
 charge of a Spanish bull. 
 
 "Very Latin," thought Philip about the time that 
 his own modesty was giving Zephire a moral sea-sick 
 ness. 
 
 What a crowded ten minutes! It was hard not to 
 have as much as one of the ten with this rare maiden 
 alone, but if one intruder had not been in the way 
 some other would have been, and it was well to come 
 up with this one right here where, under the silken veil 
 of casual intercourse, one could realize the hideousness 
 of what might be impending in her fate. Suddenly, on 
 the ninth minute, there came to Philip a fierce inner 
 gladness when Zephire, impelled by what seemed a 
 definite leading from Rosalie, invited him to call at 
 his Orleans Street rooms the following day. 
 
 "But, yes!" insisted the bachelor, "I have there 
 many things to astonizh yo admiration ! Come at 
 five six at yo pleasure. Last week I ve bought me, 
 at auction, a splendid bookcase carved and full of 
 
 67 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 books! Louisianas an j two-three scrap-books of 
 newspaper clippings. I think some of those clippings 
 are projuce by yo father." 
 
 "Did you, too, know my father?" 
 
 "Ah, I was not of the age for him to know me. 
 You ll come to-morrow and have a glass of wine with 
 
 me?" 
 
 "And then/ put in Rosalie, "you ll tell Zephire the 
 price to ask for those Louisianas ! " She addressed her 
 kinsman: "Because you, of course, all you want to keep 
 is that carved bookcase, and maybe those scrap-books 
 to light fires!" 
 
 Other callers already pressing in obscured Zephire s 
 reply and the two Castletons withdrew. As they went 
 Philip told his few minutes experience. 
 
 " To-morrow ? " said the judge. " Yes, go. But not 
 Friday." 
 
 "What s the matter with Friday? A hanging?" 
 
 "Madame Durel wants auntie and us to a cup of 
 tea." 
 
 "Friday? Let s see," Philip guiltily said. "Yes, I 
 reckon I can arrange for it." 
 
 Neither spoke again till they were at their own box, 
 when Philip asked: "Do you think auntie will go?" 
 
 "I, eh" the judge replied, "I think we d best be 
 together when we mention it to her." 
 
XIII 
 
 "THE FOE!" 
 
 WHEN the next day s bank hours were done and M. 
 Durel stepped into his automobile he felt no grateful 
 relaxation. Unseen, his chief perplexity rode home 
 with him, passed with him through gate and door and 
 all the appointments of a refined life. 
 
 The air was oppressively warm. He went up-stairs, 
 put on fresh linen, and came down again, but the per 
 plexity clung. When he asked for madame and 
 mademoiselle he was told they were out with a cousin, 
 making calls. Finally, on a side veranda jutting into 
 the garden he sat down with his trouble and squarely 
 faced it. 
 
 After all, it was only this: Zephire, in the bank, had 
 mentioned the concert and the two Castletons* visit to 
 the Durel box. He had barely alluded to them, but 
 the allusion s bareness was what signified. Zephire 
 saw. Zephire knew: Zephire, and hence others, no 
 doubt many. Monsieur was not ready for either Ze 
 phire or others to see or know. He could not be ready 
 until he could make out what to do with the Castletons, 
 and he had not made out, not even as to the aunt. 
 
 More than the world beside, Alphonse Durel prized 
 the two queens of his home. Rosalie first, with life 
 all before her, and then, second only on a scale too fine 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 for degrees, his mother. Closely next these he cher 
 ished the Durel name at large. But to serve best his 
 mother, his daughter, or the name at large did not 
 rigidly demand that he should serve their wishes, as 
 to matters in general or the Castletons in particular. 
 Not at all I 
 
 Miss Castleton ! For reasons peculiarly his, reasons 
 twenty-odd years old, his keenest impulse was to 
 thwart her wishes whatever they might be, and whether 
 in conflict with those of her nephew and her father or 
 not. For more than twenty years, at every chance re 
 minder of her, two words had answered from the depth 
 of his heart: "Never again !" Never again should that 
 spinster s will override his. He had never foreseen a 
 day when her wish and his might coincide. But now, 
 here was the first rub. Could he thwart her now 
 without thwarting himself ? Except only the crowning 
 question of his daughter s future, no part of the whole 
 perplexity harried him more than this. He apologized 
 to himself for it: "I am ill yet. I am no more rested 
 than I was in that restless North, on that Boardwalk, 
 when these Castletons were under my nose." 
 
 His mind turned indulgently upon the placid judge, 
 and the change gave him ease. What a droll new jux 
 taposition had at this absurdly late day come round 
 between that old man, madame, and him ! He fancied 
 the old gentleman beset by thoughts of what might 
 have been as to the three, not unlike those which he, 
 Durel, had at times of himself and Philip. Fantastical 
 old fellow! If he could imagine he had, at this late 
 
 70 
 
"THE FOE!" 
 
 day, a case of his own, let him have that much com 
 fort. But Philip s case was another matter, a thing 
 that dinned unendurably in monsieur s brain. For 
 Philip s case was also Rosalie s. 
 
 Her father had no yearning to see her married to 
 Zephire, but only to see her married. To his mind 
 spinsterhood was deformity an eye knocked out, a 
 twisted spine. Yet to give her to the like of Philip 
 Castleton seemed worse than to see her one-eyed, 
 spine-twisted, and a spinster. He would withhold her 
 not for the differences that commonly kept Creoles 
 and "Americans" apart, nor for any matter of wealth, 
 station, health, or character, nor yet for any lack of be 
 lief by him in marrying for love. He believed in it ! 
 His own marriage, made heartbrokenly and purely for 
 his clan s sake, yet rewarded with a tranquil life and 
 this priceless Rosalie, was no more proof against his 
 belief than Judge Castleton s against his, or Philip s 
 long-departed mother s against hers. No, no ! not he ! 
 He advocated marrying for love and would never cross 
 lovers but for sternest cause. 
 
 Then what here was the prohibitory trouble re 
 ligion? Assuredly not. No, Miss Castleton, never 
 again religion ! No, flatly, nothing but politics ! Ah, 
 yet not politics as they are regarded elsewhere in the 
 world, but as they are in Dixie, in Louisiana, where the 
 ever-blazing under-issue is honor, decency, morals, 
 safety, and happiness, personal and communal, or their 
 absolute opposites, and where one party has to hold 
 the other down by whatever shift it can, and by the 
 
 71 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 neck. It was not thinkable that Rosalie Durel, after 
 love s first illusion, could live happily, live at all, with 
 a man man, woman, or angel holding and teaching 
 such theories of society for Louisiana, for New Or 
 leans. Zephire, with all his vanities and peccadilloes, 
 was a better, safer alternative. 
 
 But here came the pinch again: Philip, whose aunt 
 poured out on him all the passion that might have been 
 a mother s, was the living monument of a wrong done 
 him, Durel, a triumph over him, which even with Ro 
 salie for his illimitable compensation he would be 
 ashamed ever to be able to forgive. How could he 
 yield Rosalie to him ? Yet to hold him and her apart, 
 whose mutual fitness was plain to the most casual eye, 
 would be not merely to let the same hand dash from 
 his own child s lips the same cup of love of life it 
 had struck from his; it would be to make himself, Al- 
 phonse Durel, the executant, the sheriff, of the spinster 
 aunt s unspoken but manifest decree. Thus he would 
 throw away his one, first, last chance of the word was 
 none too big revenge; his long-coveted chance to give 
 that woman her one all-inclusive, irreparable over 
 throw. Yet again ah, the tangle ! why let that loss 
 count if the decree were as much and as passionately 
 his as hers? It need not. He was not fantastical, nor 
 weak, nor ill, but merely tired ! 
 
 His mind, as if it scaled a cliff, stopped to rest. 
 How noisy to-day those passing street-cars ! But tfeey 
 gave him an impulse. Five minutes in one of tfeem 
 would take him within a square of Zephire s rooms. 
 
 72 
 
"THE FOE!" 
 
 Zephire s babble might prove refreshing, a sort of 
 spiritual soft drink. He rose, took his hat, and left 
 the house. 
 
 A car on another and remote line, from up-town, had 
 already dropped a passenger in old Orleans Street, who, 
 tapping at the sidewalk door of a dingy two-story 
 stuccoed brick house, was let into a damp hall by a 
 very fat and slatternly barefoot negro woman. She 
 did not take the card which, if one could read, would 
 have identified him as a Mr. Philip Castleton. 
 
 Mr. Zephire Durel? Yes, he was in, up those 
 stairs. His rooms were just at the landing. 
 
 One door had a dainty knocker, which Philip tapped. 
 Inside a feminine laugh came just on the tap, but the 
 door opened and Zephire cut short his own gay talk to 
 say: 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton, expected and welcome. Ah, yes, 
 enter! We was engage in a little business but tis 
 finizhed. . . . Madame Philomele, if you ll permit me 
 to present you Pro-fessor Cazzleton, Tulane Univer 
 sity!" 
 
 The deference in Philip s bow accorded her the bene 
 fit of all doubts. He stepped in. 
 s Mme. Philomele had but one gilded foot on the 
 floor. The other hung from a table, but it did him 
 the honor to drop to its fellow as she bowed. For a 
 woman in her fifties she had kept her weight down 
 well. A capital dressmaker had decked her in a har 
 mony of pinks and greens whose high pitch was clearly 
 the wearer s choice. This fact was shown by her ex- 
 
 73 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 cesses in jewelry and by her cheeks and yellow hair 
 touched up to the same key in autumn tints. About 
 her lips and nostrils were signs of rude experiences, and 
 subtler ones of defiance in the eyes. 
 
 Said Zephire to Philip, while bending suavely to 
 Mme. Philomele: "That s a very seldom that two gen 
 tlemen, or even one, meet madame anywhere not in 
 her parlor of consultation. Mr. Cazzleton, tha z a 
 flattery to you an me, yes! Same time" addressing 
 both "we are well met together, all three, because, 
 look ! Are we not those three Fates ? Past, Present, 
 Future ! Historian, man of business, clairvoyante ! " 
 
 Mme. Philomele bent with professional dignity to 
 Philip and smiled to Zephire. 
 
 Philip responded: "Mr. Durel has invited me " 
 
 "I know," said the clairvoyante. Comrade-like she 
 gave a parting hand to Zephire. "Adieu." 
 
 The cashier retained her finger-tips, well lifted, and 
 led her to the stair-landing. There, while Philip stayed 
 by the treasures of the newly bought bookcase, she 
 murmured her thanks to Zephire for some favor granted, 
 let him kiss her fingers, and glided down and out. 
 
 Zephire returned to Philip with a roguish smile, 
 but his visitor, holding books in both hands, spoke 
 first: 
 
 "You know Ovide Landry s book-shop, don t you, 
 round here in Chartres Street ? " 
 
 " Ovide ! Born the body-servant of grand mere 
 Durel. But have a chair and On the table 
 stood a decanter and two filled glasses. The host drew 
 
 74 
 
"THE FOE!" 
 
 them near and the pair sat down. "You ll have the 
 honor of the glass declined by Madame Philomle !" 
 
 Philip tried to resume. "Your Louisianas " he 
 began. 
 
 But Zephire, with his confidential smile, the jerk of 
 a thumb over his shoulder, and a slow shake of the 
 head, spoke on: "She, she don t count to me any 
 mo since long time about a year. You know, Mr. 
 Cazzleton, this world is comprise of two." 
 
 "At the lowest count," Philip most willingly agreed. 
 
 "Yes," said Zephire, "the wild world and the tame. 
 She, Philomele, she s of the wild, eh? You except 
 now and then a little step one side on the sly you are 
 of the tame. But for Zephire Durel, man of the pres 
 ent, by necessity he is of both ! I tell you that flat- 
 foot . When a man is not ashamed of neither he s 
 about all right, eh?" 
 
 Philip laughed, said he wished being all right was 
 that easy, and tried to revert to Ovide. 
 
 "Ah," said Zephire, "I know them all, those book 
 shop men. What I don t know is what to ask for those 
 books ! If by an by you ll pass yonder with me " 
 
 "Let s go at once." 
 
 "No, no. Hold the horse ! Finish, any ow, yo 
 sherry. That s no American wine, sir. That s im 
 ported by Zephire himself, from his Spanish relation 
 in Andalusia. And, beside , you have not inspected 
 my furnit-ure, neither my coll-ection of duelling weap 
 ons. Hah! and neither those scrap-book !" 
 
 Wine-glasses in hand, they rose. Daintily bitter, 
 75 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 smooth as an oil, was the wine which Philip sipped and 
 complimented while being led about and taught the 
 points of excellence and rarity in chairs, tables, cabi 
 nets, bindings. In one of the scrap-books he was 
 shown a clipping over his father s name. Zephire 
 glanced across the reader s arm. "Hoh!" he gayly 
 said, "that foolishness! Pass it! Even a gigantic 
 mistake don t constitute a man a damn fool, and I 
 su pose yo j father, if he was to-day here, he d be as 
 much ash-amed of it as you." 
 
 Philip turned in blazing resentment and stood chok 
 ing with the realization that he was a guest. But then 
 his eyes returned to the page and, more as if reading 
 than conversing, he said: "I am proud of my father 
 both for writing this and for a life without a stain." 
 
 "My dear sir!" cried Zephire, "I was but joking! 
 Joking, my dear sir ! And even though a joke, I take 
 that back. I m sorry, eh ? Yo pardon, sir ! " 
 
 "Well" Philip uncomfortably laughed "I m as 
 sorry on my side. Little pot, soon hot I wish that 
 didn t fit me quite so snug." He rubbed his head and 
 shook it ruefully. The joke still seemed to him more 
 craft than humor, yet he laughed again. "Let s walk 
 round to Landry s." 
 
 "Walk? We cannot walk there and carry those 
 books!" 
 
 "Leave them. I can tell him every book you ve 
 got." 
 
 So presently Zephire, from behind an armoire door, 
 changing his coat, called: "And same time, I am sure 
 
 76 
 
"THE FOE!" 
 
 you you don t believe some of those things what your 
 father says in there." 
 
 "What things, for instance?" Philip inquired with 
 lingering heat, while the stair-door, old and dry, noise 
 lessly swung open of itself. 
 
 "Well/ the answer came, "where yo father re 
 marks against those Kuklux, those lynching, and so 
 forth. Biccause now, sinze long time, everybody s find 
 out those things was highly patrio-tique and all for the 
 best for the South and for that that union, eh ? " 
 
 "Then I m nobody, Mr. Durel," Philip replied, "I ve 
 stopped trying to believe that." 
 
 "Ah, but even those Yankees, thousands of them," 
 insisted Zephire, busy with a fresh collar and tie, " they 
 believe that; even Union veterans." 
 
 "Yes, and when I hear a Union veteran say he sup 
 poses they d do the same in our place I m as thoroughly 
 ashamed of him as of the Kuklux Klan." With his 
 back to the open door Philip was glancing over the 
 shelved books without really seeing one of them and 
 without noting the faint tread of a weary man, who 
 came up the stair and stood on the threshold, courte 
 ously facing aside. 
 
 Philip turned and beheld the father of Rosalie. 
 Angered anew, he went on to say what the instant be 
 fore he had decided to hold back: "I believe that all 
 overriding of law by violence is a criminal and infa 
 mous attack on public safety, honor, and liberty." 
 
 Too late he remembered again that he was a visitor, 
 and once more blushed. The two men saluted. 
 
 77 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Same time/ remarked the bank president, with 
 courtly good nature, "you propose to con-tinue living 
 here; thiz city, thiz State, and to go abbout in soci tie !" 
 
 "Why," Philip replied, with a look of drollery to 
 both his hearers as the three came together, "yes ! 
 Yes, if I can without lockjaw. Honestly" to Ze- 
 phire "my mouth isn t as big as your door, but in 
 one way it s like it; it will now and then swing open." 
 
 "Ah," said the senior Durel indulgently, "for ven 
 tilation!" 
 
 "Of those opinions, ha, ha!" added his cashier in 
 delighted explanation, and the two juniors had a 
 merry moment between them, of a sort. 
 
 The three went to the book-shop together. Ovide 
 purchased the books, Philip the two or three scrap- 
 books. 
 
 "The books? To see them?" Ovide, at his street- 
 door, shook his head. "I ave no need. I ave make 
 that coll-ection, myself, an posses it many year . 
 Likewise those scrap-book . Yes, ne, I make those." 
 To Philip he replied: "If they can be jent here? Cer- 
 tainlie, with those book . You can ged them from 
 here when yo& like." 
 
 "And then," said Zephire to Philip, with a gesture 
 of congratulation, to show him how easily he saw 
 through him, "you can see Ovide again and alone !" 
 
 "He s a human document," said Philip, foolishly 
 willing to be transparent. Yet he would rather not 
 have left Zephire alone with Rosalie s father, as he 
 had to do. He and the two Durels went opposite ways. 
 
 78 
 
XIV 
 
 "THEY COME! THEY COME!" 
 
 THAT is to say, they came, the Castletons that Fri 
 day afternoon, to that cup of tea, so called. 
 
 Tea there was none, nor yet coffee, but most delicate 
 cakes and ices and that pre-eminent Creole cordial 
 they call "parfait amour." Afternoon tea was a cus 
 tom practised by the leading hotels St. Charles, 
 Grunewald. Ladies of the city, in season, daily met 
 and sipped there. But even with ices instead of tea 
 the rite was far from prevalent in New Orleans homes. 
 Men of the business centres, in any case, rarely took 
 part. Ladies -day luncheons at the Pickwick Club 
 they enjoyed, but they could not lift the "curate s de 
 light" across the private lawn. Yet monsieur was 
 present with mother and daughter in Esplanade Avenue 
 when the Castletons came. 
 
 They came, they came. We say it thus for two 
 reasons. First, Miss Castleton had to be dragged to 
 the encounter, and secondly, within a fortnight the call 
 was returned ! Monsieur had no zest for the enter 
 prise, yet he found time to accompany madame and 
 mademoiselle, as ballast, they seeming so top-heavily 
 willing to go. Moreover, it was not for such a Creole 
 as he to let a social debt, trans-Canal Street debt, go 
 to protest. Motoring up that way with his ladies, he 
 
 79 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 had a dark presentiment that the two male Americans 
 would be present with the other, the neuter, the spin 
 ster. And so they were. But also, grateful mitiga 
 tion, there were three or four other callers, ladies, up 
 town Creoles. The lively cross-fire of two languages 
 was as melodious to the heart as to the ear of Philip 
 and the judge. 
 
 To Philip and Rosalie both meetings afforded much 
 entertainment flashes of gayety, glimmerings of ten 
 derness. They were more than meetings; in a gentle 
 way they were collisions; clashings of theories, tradi 
 tions, and characters which were to one another as 
 square and round pegs to round and square holes, yet 
 every clash ended in a victory of sweet manners. At 
 one juncture, transiently, manners themselves became 
 a topic. 
 
 This was when Rosalie asked Philip for an account 
 of his call on Zephire, of which she had heard through 
 her father. Philip, in his very brief report of it, too 
 brief to require any mention of the clairvoyante, de 
 clared that Zephire, whenever conversation turned 
 upon grave matters, was easily his superior in courtesy. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the girl, " superior, Zephire ! Yet, still, 
 yes ! And superior with me the same. Many times I 
 have found that with Zephire." 
 
 Philip s demurrer was vain. "I rather not be the 
 superior of Zephire that way. You know, Mr. Cas- 
 tleton you don t think politeness is sometimes a 
 fault?" She turned to one of her up-town fellows: "I 
 think anyhow in us Creoles it is." 
 
 80 
 
"THEY COME! THEY COME!" 
 
 "It certainly isn t in us Americans," Philip replied. 
 "We care nine times as much for good nature as for 
 good manners. You Creoles know that." 
 
 "Ah !" she broke out merrily, "and we care fifty-nine 
 times as much for good manners as for good nature. 
 Not all those Creoles, but " She waved despairingly. 
 
 Philip could not echo the criticism, yet, spoken by 
 a Creole, two Creoles, such Creoles, he could not pre 
 sume to contest it. He tried to state both facts but 
 did it so ungracefully that the pair grew mirthful and 
 Rosalie declared his "politeness" superior to Zephire s 
 best. "Because this time awkwardness gives it per 
 fection!" 
 
 Dropping personalities, she had a further idea, but 
 could not phrase it till he found her the words, which 
 he furnished as they left the rest of the company on a 
 low veranda overlooking the side lawn and strolled 
 out upon the sod. The idea was that good manners 
 were comparatively easy to those who value feelings 
 more than facts. 
 
 He was flattered. "And it s just when I meet that 
 sort," he said, "that my manners break down; when 
 most needed." 
 
 "As when discussing history, for example," she sug 
 gested, "or politics?" 
 
 "Oh, politics, no! My manners don t break down 
 in politics, they blow up ! For it s there we meet those 
 who rate passion more sacred than law, as somebody 
 says." 
 
 "Same time, that s when you are most to be excused, 
 81 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Because in history, in politics, you put your whole 
 heart, h mm?" 
 
 "No, there s only where I ought to put it." 
 
 They smiled as though nothing had happened, and 
 he hurried to cover the slip: "No, that shouldn t ex 
 cuse me or any one. I don t count anybody quite fit 
 I know I m not to talk politics till he s got the 
 good manners as I haven t to be patient with bad 
 politics as well as with bad manners." He paused and 
 smiled : " Mademoiselle 
 
 Her quiet step ceased; her gaze rested serenely in 
 his. They stood at the edge of a sward unevenly 
 rimmed by flowering bushes among which she, in sum 
 mer draperies, fitted with climacteric perfection and 
 made Philip long to say that nowhere else in open 
 daylight is maidenhood so lovely as in a garden. But 
 all the more, he thought to himself, he should be im 
 personal. Nevertheless, before his childishly blunt re 
 mark was half out it seemed to him a personality most 
 flagrant. 
 
 "I wonder if you believe in in votes for women!" 
 
 Her unruffled poise enhanced her beauty. "Yes?" 
 she asked. "And I wonder if you do." 
 
 "I ll tell you what I do believe," he replied. 
 
 She brightened. "Yes? Well?" They walked again. 
 
 "Voting or no voting, I believe in the same political 
 freedom between man and woman as between man 
 and man." 
 
 "Ah, that s good. I believe that, yes." 
 
 " I think politics and political freedom can be set on 
 82 
 
"THEY COME! THEY COME!" 
 
 so high a plane by the individual voter, man or woman, 
 that even man and wife can differ politically as widely 
 as man and man and yet be as beautifully mated as 
 they ve ever been since marriage began." 
 
 The moment the word was uttered the speaker 
 wanted it back. It might be true but it was not fair. 
 No Creole father was needed to tell him that. It was 
 a shot out of ambush, aimed at the maiden, and as it 
 rang back into his own ears he knew that, for all her 
 outward calm, it had sent the same thrill of recognition 
 into her heart as into his and that she saw in it as 
 plainly as he a move to try love s cause as his grand 
 father might have said by John Doe proceedings. 
 
 Her abstracted response made him more grateful 
 than ever. "That s very unfortunate," she said, "a 
 man and wife to have different politics." 
 
 "Doesn t that depend on the man and wife?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She mused on: "It s good that it seldom happens." 
 
 "Good manners and good nature having their lim 
 its," suggested Philip. 
 
 "Yet at same time," she admitted, "I think any 
 man and wife are sure to quarrel about something if 
 if they " 
 
 "Can just consent to quarrel!" he prompted, and 
 the two so enjoyed their unanimity that Philip felt al 
 most absolved. He would go early to her father, he 
 thought, and speak straight to the point, Creole fashion. 
 
 Her next word uplifted him yet more. It was not a 
 time of year for much calling, and on the veranda were 
 
 83 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 no newcomers to make the first restive. Miss Castle- 
 ton was trying to catch her father s eye, but it would 
 not be caught. The garden pair took seats on a bench 
 among the myrtles, and Rosalie said: 
 
 "Explain me that difficulty of your politics." 
 
 The happy youth laughed. "If I tell you," he said, 
 "do you promise not to call me a political prig?" 
 
 "Ah, what is that? I don t know." 
 
 "A political prig is a doctrinaire, a dunce, a hypo 
 crite, and a coward, all in one, and my chief difficulty 
 oh, it s nothing great, it s men calling me by that 
 name. In their minds, I mean, and with their eyes 
 and their good manners." He frowned, but then 
 smiled. 
 
 "That s fortunate tis not with the tongue," she 
 said. 
 
 "No," he answered, "hot tongues are better than 
 cold civility, as somebody says." 
 
 "But explain to me what are the principles of your 
 politics," insisted the girl as she rose from the bench. 
 The veranda company were on their feet, and she and 
 Philip loitered toward them while he replied: 
 
 "You read the New Testament sometimes, don t 
 you?" 
 
 "Assuredly." 
 
 "Well, you ll find all my political principles there." 
 
 With no reflection of his light manner she stopped 
 short. "Ah-h! and you say that? To men? To 
 men like Zephire? Ah, well, then ! Well, of course, 
 
 then 1" 
 
 84 
 
"THEY COME! THEY COME!" 
 
 "Then what?" They stood eye to eye. Her tone 
 of sweet reasoning was like a voice from heaven. 
 
 "Ah, I think you ll find it very difficult, even you, 
 to say that and not be that thing." 
 
 He barely let her finish. " I know it I " he cried, so 
 earnestly that his aunt and the banker, from the 
 veranda, looked across. He forced a new gayety. 
 " You re right ! I know it by experience." The gayety 
 failed again, and most unpardonably forgetting that 
 they were in his garden, not hers, he continued: "Your 
 word s a hard one, but I thank you. I bless you." 
 The pained rebuke that came into her face only fired 
 him with a fiercer desperation and he blundered on: 
 ""I love you. I want you for life. I ll be your hero, 
 iio meaner thing. With you at my side I can do it, I 
 can be it against all odds, within or without." 
 
 They gazed a moment more, he reddened to the tem 
 ples, and they loitered on. There was a ray of hope 
 in the slowness of her footsteps, but presently, with 
 eyes dropped, she said: "No ... No ... There is 
 too much dividing us." 
 
 "Surely you don t mean politics?" 
 
 "Yes . . . Yes . . . Politics yet not politics alone." 
 
 "I believe we were made for each other." 
 
 "No ... No ... I think we don t belong." 
 They joined the company. 
 
 "Quite so," said Miss Castleton s physician next 
 morning; f what you need is not treatment, it s moun 
 tains," 
 
 85 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Doctor, I ve stayed here through three successive 
 summers without so much as a pill." 
 
 "That s it. Only Creoles can do that and keep 
 strong." 
 
 "I" she sweetly shook her head "I can t go. All 
 the mountains of Virginia won t revive me if I leave 
 Philip behind or the judge either. Phil, will you go ? 
 Father, will you?" 
 
 86 
 
XV 
 
 AT BILOXI 
 
 JCTNE, July, August, half of September, the whole 
 long, shimmering, burdensome, bountiful summer 
 dragged by without a further word between any Cas- 
 tleton and any Durel. 
 
 The world war had broken out, all Belgium and the 
 north of France were burning. The Castletons had 
 gone, early and far, into the highest Alleghanies. In 
 an ordinary case one might suppose that one s aunt 
 might find reinvigoration there without a double male 
 companionship; but when such an aunt has brought 
 one up in the bonds of rectitude and gratitude one will 
 hardly choose to employ one s supposing powers with 
 an unfilial stubbornness. 
 
 Even rectitude and gratitude aside, Philip might 
 have gone tamely, if not willingly. For within a few 
 days after that amazing mistake, for which he could 
 not for a moment, night or day, forgive himself, the 
 Durels, on Rosalie s own prompting, had fled to Biloxi, 
 eastward on the Gulf shore a two and a half hours rail 
 way run, but in the spiritual facts of the case stellar 
 intervals away. 
 
 In Biloxi Philip, the historian, could have told us, 
 were born the first Creoles of Louisiana, among them a 
 Ducatel or two and at least as many Durels. It is 
 
 87 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Louisiana s own birthplace. New Orleans is Biloxi s 
 daughter, nearly twenty years her junior. On one of 
 the low bluffs at the edge of her white sand beach 
 stood the Durels wide-verandaed summer cottage in 
 the shade of live-oaks and evergreen magnolias, over- 
 towered by a few great pines, relics of the original 
 forest. From its front gate a frail board footway on 
 slim piles ran far out into the water to its bathhouse 
 and fishing and boat wharf, combining with them and 
 the pines and wide-spread oaks to give the scene, espe 
 cially when sunset lights rested on smooth waters, a 
 notably Japanese picturesqueness. 
 
 So it might have struck Philip, with his feeling for 
 landscape, had he been less absorbed in thoughts be 
 yond the outward vision, as he walked westward from 
 the town s centre and came round a slight angle where 
 at the tide s edge the slim white lighthouse stood inside 
 the paling fence of its keeper s pretty flower-garden. 
 The Castletons had just got home again, and Philip, 
 with barely a day s pause, had come here "to begin all 
 over," as he had told his dear confidant, the judge, 
 apologetically left behind in the persistent heat of the 
 city. It was the end of the week, and M. Durel had 
 been over here since the previous afternoon, breathing 
 gentle refreshment from the pines and the sea. This 
 was entirely to Philip s liking. He particularly wished 
 to begin his new beginning with monsieur. Hence his 
 note to him, sent a trifle earlier by messenger, asking 
 leave to call. 
 
 The reply had found him waiting on the steps of his 
 88 
 
AT BILOXI 
 
 little waterside hotel, his abstracted gaze on the grace 
 ful coursings of the many pleasure-boats that skimmed 
 the bay and the sound, or came from concealment after 
 the long circuit of Deer Island. He had wondered 
 which sail might be the Durels , which Zephire s, and 
 whose might be a certain elegant steam-yacht anchored 
 far out, yet not too far for him to see that there were 
 others on her deck besides men, and that she was 
 about to get under way. Now as he passed the light 
 house he noticed that her anchor was up and that she 
 was moving in a direction that implied Pascagoula and 
 in lesser degree Mobile, Pensacola, Appalachicola, and 
 Floridian harbors in general. 
 
 He felt a throb of misgiving, but would not allow a 
 second one. Yonder in the long shadows of its aged 
 grove, wide-skirted with encircling verandas, was the 
 Durel cottage. Out in front of its live-oak bluff and 
 white beach the low sunbeams gilded and crimsoned 
 the shoal waters beneath and beyond the hundred slim 
 legs of its board walk. On a bench under the four- 
 sided incurved roof of its Japanesque fishing-wharf a 
 man sat at ease, looking seaward. It was monsieur 
 himself, awaiting his caller. 
 
 His greeting was proof against Philip s alertest criti 
 cism; as free from coldness, warmth, or sparkle as a 
 still wine " at the temperature of the room." The two 
 sat down with the steam-yacht in their view, but 
 dwindling in the wide pink and blue expanse between 
 the pines and white sands of Deer and Horn Islands. 
 A few words were said of the weather, the season, none 
 
 89 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 of the war that was convulsing half the world, and then, 
 as Philip took breath for the real business, the banker 
 remarked: 
 
 "You find me al-lone." 
 
 The visitor was pleased. "I hoped I might, for a 
 few minutes/ he said. "Mr. Durel, I know that ac 
 cording to Creole custom three calls on a young lady, 
 at short intervals, imply courtship and require one to 
 ask her people s consent before going further. Isn t 
 that so?" 
 
 With his eyes out on the water monsieur languidly 
 shook his head : " Nn-o. Used to be, yes. But tha z in 
 very bad rippair, thad cuztom. Many good cuztom 
 of those Creole are biccome Ammerican-ize egcep 
 ammong a few ole familie of the hide-town ." 
 
 "For all that, I d like to subscribe to it, sir." 
 
 Monsieur lifted his shoulders, dropped his hands. 
 
 Philip continued: "I m not aware how much you 
 know of what has passed between " 
 
 "I ave not eave drop . I have ask no queztion ." 
 A smile did not quite sweeten the reply. 
 
 "Well," Philip said, "at any rate, counting Atlantic 
 City, this is my third call, and I want you to allow it all 
 a third call can mean and yet say come again." 
 
 Monsieur was looking seaward again. "You have 
 the >er-mission of yo h-aunt, I su pose?" Zephire s 
 wine could not have been more delicately bitter. 
 
 "I ask no permission but yours," was the smiling 
 reply. "I ll court a Creole girl in Creole fashion, but 
 as to my own kin I ll follow my free American choice, 
 
 90 
 
AT BILOXI 
 
 and if I ever win it my dear good auntie will com* 
 round to it as gracefully as a sailboat." 
 
 "As a catboat," thought monsieur. 
 
 "That s part of our American way," Philip added. 
 
 The banker slowly turned to him: "That was the 
 manner of the marriage of yo mother an father?" 
 
 "I think so. I I ve never heard. I ve never 
 asked." 
 
 The Creole mused. "You never hear ? Never ask?" 
 
 "Why, no, sir. I can if there s any reason " 
 
 Monsieur s hand went softly to Philip s knee: "No, 
 there is none." He mused again. Then abruptly: 
 "Well ! Any ow, you, you prop-ose yo free Ammerican 
 choice." 
 
 "With your permission. You know my family, my 
 religion, profession, fortune, my my politics, my char 
 acter. If you want any further light I beg you to 
 say so." 
 
 As slowly as before the Creole shook his head, purs 
 ing his lips. "Nn-o, I billieve I billieve I don t 
 want. I billieve an same time tha z only one objec 
 tion I billieve yo h-aunt she be ab e to make to yo 
 free Ammerican choize a very unhappy life." 
 
 "No, sir. There is one thing amply sufficient, 
 alone, to make that unsupposable." 
 
 "Ah! an that is ?" 
 
 "Your daughter herself; her nature, her character. 
 But another, nearly as ample, is my aunt. However, 
 suppose I get my aunt s approval. Are there other 
 obstacles?" 
 
 91 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Yes, there are other ." 
 
 " What are they ? My profession, family, religion ? " 
 
 Monsieur once more shook his head. "No. I know 
 yo familie since abbout, eh, twenty-eight year . I 
 don t know if they thank me to tell you something as 
 old as that." 
 
 "Mr. Durel, I have a right to know." 
 
 "Ah? What is yo right?" 
 
 "My love for your daughter. It s the greatest 
 thing in my life thus far. If I know myself, my whole 
 future happiness depends on it." Philip had risen to 
 his feet. 
 
 His hearer kindly motioned him down. "I will tell 
 you. Yes, tha z twenty-eight year aggo I ask yo 
 mother to make, for me, her free Ammerican choize." 
 
 "Why^ why, Mr. Durel! And she was pre 
 vented?" 
 
 The banker shrugged. "For one reason al-lone she 
 rifuse . Tha z biccause yo h-aunt she don t want. 
 And yo h-aunt she don t want biccause my n/-igion." 
 The pair gazed at each other. Then he went on: "Of 
 co ze, you know, you see, I can never be sorrie, biccause 
 there is Rosalie. And yo mother" he made a heav 
 enward gesture "she can never be sorrie, biccause 
 you. An so, you see, tis to yo h-aunt you owe both 
 egsistanze an Rosalie." 
 
 Philip gravely smiled. " I certainly owe her a double 
 gratitude," he said. 
 
 "Me, no," rejoined the unsmiling Creole, "not even 
 a single. My gratitude is egsclusively to God." He 
 
 92 
 
AT BILOXI 
 
 looked away to that atom in the distance, the steam- 
 yacht. 
 
 "Mr. Durel," said the suitor, "even now, risk me, 
 as a son. I can be one, a true one, and not shame you 
 in my reputation or my character." 
 
 Monsieur s palms rose breast high. " Iv you was my 
 son you wou n have that char-ac-ter." 
 
 Philip smiled. "I hope it doesn t seem too bad." 
 
 "My dear sir, on the con-trerry, tis too good." 
 
 "That s joyful news to me, sir!" 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton, for savety, yo moral standard they 
 are too high. They are too far abbove the nature. 
 When a man, a young man, have those moral standard 
 too high they are in danger to bring misfortune to the 
 married life ad the worzt time; tha z in the middle." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Durel," Philip began to argue, "if a 
 young fellow can pull through his twenties clean I " 
 
 The Creole courteously stopped him. "Young fel 
 low in their twentie , if they got those standard too 
 high, they do nod dream what are those equinogtial 
 storm of that middle life. You know Zephire Durel. 
 Well, look ad Zephire. He s got his standard , but 
 not too high. When Zephire pritty soon reach thad 
 middle life the girl tha z marrie to him she be prittie 
 safe. Biccause already he s " a graceful wave " been 
 up in the balloon, boys/ and come down aggain. 
 He s suck the h-orange." 
 
 The two looked into each other s faces until Philip 
 felt the jar of his pulse. "I can t lower my moral 
 standards, sir," he said. 
 
 98 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Assuredly, no." 
 
 "And you wouldn t like me any better if I could." 
 
 "Assuredly, no." 
 
 "Mr. Durel, I can t take you seriously! I reckon 
 you d risk me if it were not for something else." He 
 slapped the back of the bench. "I don t believe my 
 standards are your real objection even if you do 
 any more than I believe they d be hers." He smiled 
 away his warmth. 
 
 As the pair again sat eye to eye the banker s memory 
 ran back with fresh vividness across those twenty-eight 
 years of which he had spoken. Yet presently he too 
 smiled. 
 
 " Tis a rim-arkable, yes, how you are like yo mother 
 excep one thing. And tha z another cause for yo 
 gTati-tude, that she had not that. Biccause yo j mother, 
 if she had have had the the " 
 
 "Self-assertion?" 
 
 "Yes ! Had she have had that, then neither you, 
 neither Rosalie, you wou n never have been born." 
 
 "If you like self-assertion I ought to suit you." 
 
 "Ah ! in some thing I like it; in some, no. In great 
 public queztion , like, eh, ri/-igion, politic - 
 
 "When one man thinks one way while thousands 
 think another " 
 
 "Ah! tha z when I abhor that self-assertion." 
 
 "In other words, I seem to you a man who d hang 
 to his political convictions in their essentials if men 
 of opposite ideas should outnumber him a thousand to 
 one." 
 
AT BILOXI 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And though his so doing should threaten, in hii 
 belief, the shipwreck of his whole future happiness." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, then, sir, on that very ground I sue for your 
 daughter s hand. For that s the sort of lifemate she 
 ought to have if he s otherwise personally fit." 
 
 "Ah!" Monsieur lifted a finger. "Person-ally! 
 My dear sir, that way you might be the moze fit in 
 the worl an still have notion abbout thiz, that, the 
 other- 
 
 "Which would make me intolerable in society?" 
 
 "Yes, and Rosalie, she s verrie, verrie fon of so 
 ciety." A pause; then: "Any ow, society or no, some 
 of those doctrine , any woman, of the South, or ad the 
 leaz any Creole, she might herself, too late, find those 
 doctrine in practiz , impossib to live with." 
 
 "Yes, I dare say Elijah the Tishbite would have 
 been a poor catch for any girl, socially or domestically. 
 But I m no Elijah. I m an ordinary modern gentle 
 man, one of whose doctrines is that we Americans, and 
 Creoles, too, have come to a time when there s got to 
 be room for political differences and marital harmony 
 in the same home at the same time. Why, sir, at my 
 board or fireside I d no more impose my political doc 
 trines offensively upon my wife by deed or word than 
 upon a royal guest." 
 
 "But same time, having those doctrine , I billieve 
 you wouV have many guest , let al-lone royal." 
 
 Philip smiled. "I think better of my city than that, 
 95 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 far better. Your daughter will always have, on her 
 own terms, all the society she wants. Mr. Durel, 
 ought politics any more than religion to outweigh 
 true love and true fitness combined? I love your 
 daughter consumingly. Not merely for her her lu 
 minous beauty, but for her luminous mind, luminous 
 soul. To me, from our first meeting, we ve seemed 
 made for each other by pattern." 
 
 "Ah-h!" said the father, who had fought the same 
 impression of them from that same time, "you are not 
 yet even well acquaint ." 
 
 "Oh, sir ! Oh, sir ! some acquaintances take long to 
 make; some are made in a moment. The glove that 
 fits doesn t have to be stretched. By these inden 
 tures/ as the lawyers say, we we match!" 
 
 Monsieur shrugged. "Tha z the way they all bil- 
 lieve." 
 
 "Yes, and some are mistaken, but some, sir, are 
 right ! May I be allowed one inquiry?" 
 
 "Ah, I su pose yes." 
 
 "Twenty-eight years ago how was it with ?" 
 
 The Creole s hand flashed up: "No I tha z not fair 1" 
 
 "No, it is not. All I beg is that you do by me as 
 you asked to be done by then. Will you? Won t 
 you?" 
 
 Once more the two men sat eye to eye, and again, 
 as the moments pulsed away, Philip, at each new 
 throb, looked more and more like his mother. It was 
 inevitable that, however long the mutual gaze should 
 last, the gazer least sure of himself would be the first 
 
 96 
 
AT BILOXI 
 
 to abandon it, and at length monsieur glanced off to 
 where the yacht was barely discernible in the subsiding 
 light. 
 
 Whereupon Philip said: "I ll take all the time for 
 acquaintance you want me to, sir; only let me begin 
 here; this evening; now." 
 
 Monsieur slowly shook his head. " Tis impossible." 
 
 The misgiving which the suitor had put away as he 
 came along the beach returned. " Do you mean physi 
 cally impossible?" he asked. 
 
 "Physic-ally, yes, sir. Rosalie she s yonder, with 
 inadame an some frien " a wave of the hand in 
 dicated the yacht "a three-week cruise." 
 
 97 
 
XVI 
 ON THE DUREL BOAT-WHARF 
 
 THE suitor rose up, gazing after the distant boat. 
 Monsieur rose and Philip turned. "Mr. Durel, one 
 more question may I? You probably know, if only 
 through madame. Did your daughter think think I 
 was coming?" 
 
 "My dear sir, I have to tell you yes, she thought." 
 
 "And it was her choice to go ?" 
 
 In tone the reply was kind. "To go? Yes, sir, 
 twas her free Ammerican choice." 
 
 Philip looked again toward the vanishing craft and 
 then back to monsieur: "Was it American enough for 
 you to say to me, come again?" 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton My faith, sir, I do not know! 
 Wait. Wait till she s ritturn." The speaker drew a 
 meditative sigh. "No, I cann tell that till she s 
 come back." 
 
 Reluctantly Philip moved to go. "Good evening, 
 
 sir." 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Cazzleton." 
 
 Where the beach made its slight bend under the 
 lighthouse now lighted Philip looked back to the 
 cottage where in such overconfidence he had hoped to 
 find a welcome and Rosalie. A glow of lamplight from 
 a side window even thus early shone red in the darken- 
 
 08 
 
ON THE DUREL BOAT-WHARF 
 
 ing grove, but the slim, stilted footway and fishing- 
 wharf were outlined directly against the sunset s last 
 watery sheen, and there, on the seat on which he had 
 found and left the home s master, he could see him 
 still. 
 
 He turned and resumed his way. Reaching his 
 hotel, he passed on by. Later, returning, he passed 
 again. And so for hours, in a night as balmy as mid 
 summer and with the lighthouse for his hither limit, he 
 roamed the bluffs, the beach. From time to time he 
 rested on some bench or the instep of one or another 
 giant oak. At such moments disappointment particu 
 larly harried him, but it too had its limits, to which 
 he held it, and neither resting nor going would he con 
 fess himself disabled from sleeping should he choose 
 to sleep. Seemingly he merely, mildly scorned that 
 choice. To commune with frequent cigars, beneath the 
 serene heavens and above an unruffled sea was better 
 than dreams or oblivion. 
 
 And there was another communion, or a sympathy 
 akin to communion. It was with the father of Rosa 
 lie. He was neither at hand nor in sight, but if Philip 
 saw signs aright he certainly was awake. For each 
 time the lover, in his fitful course, returned to the foot 
 of the lighthouse, where the night had early reduced 
 all things landward or seaward to phantom outlines, 
 his sight rested on that abiding glow at one curtained 
 window over in the darkness of the Durel grove. 
 
 "Half-past two in the morning/ thought the gazer, 
 "and he s there yet. Reading, most likely, war stuff, 
 
 99 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 or trying to read. Poor man ! It s you who can t 
 sleep, and I who steal enlightenment from your light 
 and hope from your distress. Does she love me, after 
 all ? That light wouldn t be burning if you knew she 
 did not. She may not herself know. But if she knew 
 she did not, why should she have fled ? She knows she 
 loves her father with the same passion with which he 
 loves her. Why may it not be that his devotion has 
 moved him to force our American way on her, and 
 that her devotion to him has prompted her to force 
 on him, by this flight, the old Creole way? 
 
 Lover s logic. But it so revived the lover s hope 
 that the thought of indoor rest, even at the risk of 
 sleep, became bearable, acceptable. Yet first he would 
 take one more idle turn, out the narrow board footway 
 to the small wharf whence Rosalie had made her em 
 barkation, and where he had sat with the father whom 
 new hope made it so easy to compassionate. When he 
 had nearly reached the spot he was suddenly aware 
 that the bench was occupied and before he could start 
 away the sitter had risen and spoken: 
 
 "Eh, bien? Well, sir?" 
 
 "A thousand pardons, Mr. Durel. I didn t dream 
 you were still here." 
 
 "Tha z no matter, sir. Come, sit down aggain." 
 
 They sat down, remarking on the beauty of the 
 hour. "We see a thousand whole days to one whole 
 night," Philip added, "yet rarely see any one whole 
 night by choice." 
 
 The Creole made no reply. "We bless sleep," Philip 
 100 
 
ON THE DUREL BOAT-WHARF 
 
 ventured on, "but we d now and then bless a sleepless 
 night if we d spend it under the stars." 
 
 Again monsieur was silent, till Philip stirred to rise; 
 but then he detained him, saying: "Yonder, in France, 
 many hun red thousan are every night awake enough." 
 
 Whereupon, not so much for the oppressive interest 
 of the battle of the Marne as for each other s respite 
 from the immeasurably smaller matter which more in 
 tolerably oppressed them, they talked of Europe s 
 cataclysm. Talked on for more than two hours and 
 came by and by to a point then much in the public 
 mind; the exalted seat believed to be awaiting America 
 in the world s council at the war s end. On that theme 
 Philip w T armed. 
 
 "But think," he said, "how we and all mankind 
 would be helped on and up if Uncle Sam could sit in 
 that council, even by comparison, outwardly clean and 
 inwardly pure! Mr. Durel, it shames our makeshift 
 politics!" 
 
 Monsieur said all effective politics were inevitable 
 compromises between what ought to be and what is. 
 
 "No," said Philip, "not all. I can t believe our 
 Southern doctrine of salvation that the only political 
 effectiveness is official power at all cost and that vic 
 tory at the polls, fair or foul, is the only victory worth 
 while. Tisn t true, sir. History belies it. Some 
 times defeat is victory and victory is defeat. Until we 
 think so we can never take a front seat in the world s 
 councils, and, oh, what business have we in a back 
 seat?" 
 
 101 
 
v : * LOWERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 So after all, through the lover s plain fault, they 
 were still harping on the daughter. For the father, 
 even more clearly than he, saw that this argufying was, 
 in essence, but a page from a lover s brief. Once more 
 he sat mute and this time Philip stood up. "Sunday 
 morning !" he remarked, for off over the waters where 
 the yacht had vanished the sky was flushing. Mon 
 sieur rose. They grasped hands. "Good day, sir," 
 Philip lightly said. 
 
 "Good day," was the response, and then to Philip s 
 amazement: "Come aggain." 
 
 "Come you don t mean when ?" 
 
 "Yes, I mean that. I cann say thad be any use, 
 but if you want " 
 
 102 
 
XVII 
 RAISING THE DUST 
 
 SHORTLY after bank hours two or three days subse 
 quent to Philip s Sunday in Biloxi the judge and he 
 entered Ovide s book-shop, bringing with them whom 
 but Murray. 
 
 The Scot had arrived in the city barely twenty-four 
 hours earlier and the three came now from one of the 
 Canal Street clubs, where, on the two Castletons invi 
 tation, he had met at lunch M. Durel and two or three 
 others equally qualified to say the best for the interests 
 and policies of their town and State. There his curi 
 osity had proved as untiring as ever, and with every 
 one except M. Durel fired to reply to queries that haled 
 their whole social scheme into the world s court, the 
 hour or two had not been without some spicy breezes. 
 At the first sign of dispersal the intrepid Briton had 
 asked M. Durel how soon, and how, he might see 
 Landry. The Creole had very courteously and plau 
 sibly excused himself, the Castletons had offered their 
 guidance, and on the way Philip had told of Ovide s 
 part in the sale of Zephire s Louisianas, and of later 
 talks enjoyed with the bookseller. 
 
 This had so entertained the Scot that on the shop s 
 threshold with the judge he had faced Philip, still on 
 the sidewalk, and bade him not break off. The story 
 
 103 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 just then was of the gentle dignity with which the 
 black man had professed gratitude for an "inner lib 
 erty" which his race s loss of much outward freedom 
 could not destroy; a condition, he had said, far better 
 than the outward liberty without the inner. 
 
 As Ovide was being further quoted to the effect that 
 in Europe, for a thousand years, unnumbered Jews, by 
 this inner liberty, had got more out of life than the 
 majority of their oppressors, the judge had bowed 
 slightly to a passer-by, and Philip, turning, had recog 
 nized the strong, well-tailored back and short legs of 
 Zephire. The Creole had both heard his words and 
 guessed from whom they were so approvingly borrowed. 
 
 The three callers found themselves not Ovide s only 
 visitors. In advance of them were two pretty ladies 
 whom the Castletons were surprised to hear addressing 
 the black man as "Mr. Landry," until they were found 
 to be the wife and daughter of the president of a North 
 ern missionary college for negroes. They were seeking 
 a book for him which Ovide could not supply, but which 
 the judge ventured to say he had at home, and would 
 be pleased to lend through the ladies and "Mr. Lan 
 dry." 
 
 This kindness being accepted with a brightness which 
 both Castletons interpreted as social hunger, the Scot 
 thrust in one of his appalling queries: Had "Mr. Lawn- 
 dry" ever, in his stormy days, known any political 
 leader as black as himself, yet, by the admission of his 
 opponents, wise, gifted, and upright? 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the prompt reply, given with a touch 
 104 
 
RAISING THE DUST 
 
 )f that verbal pomp which so besets the aspiring negro, 
 I can designate at least two from whom no well- 
 jiformed man can withhold that characterization." 
 
 "Lieutenant-governors?" suggested the smiling 
 judge. 
 
 "Yes, sir, and men of the square deal every time." 
 Philip ventured two historic names: "Dunn? An- 
 toine?" 
 
 "The same, sir," said Ovide, and presently the Scot 
 lad the whole group involved in a discussion of race 
 relations near and far, from New Orleans to Mandalay, 
 wherein the ladies spoke so engagingly and the Castle- 
 tons so liberally that in the end an agreement was made 
 that Philip, on the next Sabbath afternoon, in the main 
 hall of the negro college, should address a "literary 
 society" of which Ovide was the presiding head. 
 
 Of this also Zephire was a witness. With his slight 
 Dversuppleness of shoulders he had loitered in, turned 
 bis back and, while apparently browsing among the 
 Dooks, listened. As Murray and the Castletons were 
 eaving they had to pass him so closely that his failure 
 make room caused Philip to look back. The Creole s 
 ance met his and Philip saluted, but his only reward 
 as a burning stare which later rested on the ladies as 
 ey departed another way. 
 
 Mr. Murray, walking up Chartres Street between 
 s older and younger friend and halting every few 
 irds to declare New Orleans the most picturesque 
 ty in the United States "and as ill-kept as New 
 ork if ye care to boast it" explained that the war, 
 105 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 soon to call him home, was meantime keeping him here 
 on business for his government. 
 
 On Sunday Philip gave his address to a crowded 
 house. "The negro/ murmured the judge to the 
 Scot, in a front seat, "is always eager to hear any 
 white man s counsel and to see its wisdom if he can." 
 
 Besides those two and the two missionary ladies 
 there was but one white hearer in the audience. From 
 his platform seat between the black and white presi 
 dents, of the literary society and the college, Philip 
 espied, far back near the entrance, Zephire. 
 
 A radical fault in his discourse was its forlorn futility 
 as coming from a Southerner. "Friends and fellow 
 citizens," he began, "I can hope for no whole-hearted 
 acceptance of what I have to say unless while I bear 
 in mind that you are colored you kindly forget that I 
 am white." The Scot grunted to the judge: 
 
 "Too Northern to please any Southerner and too 
 Southern to please any Northerner." In fact, Zephire, 
 near the door, swelled and stiffened, while many dark 
 faces wore a humble perplexity. However, the lecturer 
 entered into a laudation of the countless benefits of 
 municipal, State, and national government to even the 
 least privileged elements of a people and appealed to his 
 hearers so to live up to these benefits as to live down 
 the few drawbacks which, the world over, in one degree 
 or another, mar them. "When we find the fly in the 
 ointment," he asked, "which shall we strive to make 
 the most of, the fly or the ointment ? " (Applause.) 
 
 Remembering Ovide s word about the Jews and the 
 106 
 
RAISING THE DUST 
 
 "inner liberty," and reminding his audience of their 
 habit of paralleling their case with that of ancient 
 Israel, he exhorted them to extend the parallel into 
 present times and win out as modern Israel has won 
 out or is winning out. "By use of the splendid rights 
 you now enjoy which millions of white men are still 
 deprived of make yourselves privately so estimable 
 and publicly so valuable that the few rights yet denied 
 you will come by natural gravitation if not to you to 
 your children s children." (Faint applause.) "Don t 
 stay down because you can t take the elevator. Take 
 the stairs or even the fire-escape ! and enter your 
 complaints on the top floor." (Applause heartier but 
 chiefly from the literary society.) 
 
 At the close Ovide, the college president, his wife 
 and daughter, and a good dozen of the darker race or 
 the half-and-half gratefully shook the speaker s hand. 
 Nevertheless Philip, though he went away between the 
 Scot and the judge, looking very gallant, went silent, 
 mentally aching. Not a remark on his address did 
 either of his elders offer, but talked of the Aisne, of 
 Antwerp and Calais, and of crimes between whole na 
 tions, so vast and hideous, so brazen and calamitous, 
 that to dwell with censure and alarm on poor Dixie s 
 well-meant mistakes argued a political pedantry too 
 ill-timed and grotesque to be worthy a scholar or a 
 gentleman. 
 
 Well, who had dwelt with censure and alarm? he 
 asked himself, because at every step every facet of his 
 thought reflected the image of Rosalie Durel, and it 
 
 107 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 was her glorious eyes that seemed mutely to accuse 
 him. No, his one great care had been to make clear 
 that, whatever his convictions, his supreme sympathies 
 and solicitudes were for his own race. If that did not 
 squarely cover the point, so much the worse; it was 
 the best his best manhood could say even to those dear 
 eyes. He longed to be a few minutes alone with the 
 judge, but the Scot walked on St. Charles Avenue with 
 them a mile or more beyond his hotel. When he halted 
 he said to Philip: 
 
 "I hear you re chosen on grand jury." 
 
 "And they ve made him its chairman/ said the 
 judge. 
 
 But Philip asked abruptly: "What did you think of 
 my performance just now?" 
 
 "Man, twas over their heads, but twas better than 
 I expected." 
 
 "And still ?" 
 
 "Still I m wondering what you d have said to an 
 audience of your own white people ? " 
 
 "What can one say while all Europe s afire?" 
 
 "More than ever! I d say don t drop your own 
 political day s work to gape at our ruin. Be warmed 
 by us. Vawst as it is, somewhere in our heedless yes 
 terdays it began as a gerrm!" 
 
 "The kingdom of Satan is like a grain of mustard- 
 seed?" 
 
 " Ay, and far smaller ! Gentlemen, it s as true in 
 politics as in medicine that the prrofoundest evils are 
 invisible to the common eye. May the good Lorrd 
 
 108 
 
RAISING THE DUST 
 
 deliver y r Dixie from snuggling down in any politics 
 that are not good political sanitation. Well he 
 gave his hand. "I m leaving you day after to-mor 
 row." 
 
 The hour of the traveller s departure was a very 
 early one but Philip was at the station to speed him. 
 "You re good," said the Briton, "and I m glad, for 
 I ve news for you. Paying congee to the Smiths lawst 
 night they told me that those yacht people, you 
 know ?" 
 
 Yes, Philip knew. 
 
 "Are expected back in ten days, and the Smiths are 
 to give them a reception. The Durels are to be in 
 vited, of course, and the Castletons. Also they tell 
 me your Sunday talk, badly misreporrted, is raising a 
 devil of a dust." The train began to move. "Hah! 
 and I d something to tell you about that cousin at the 
 bottom o the alphabet, but " They could only 
 wave farewell. 
 
 109 
 
XVIII 
 ALSO THEY MANOEUVRE 
 
 DAY by day, wherever Philip went, however em 
 ployed before his classes, at club or theatre, on the 
 sidewalk, in the street-cars he found himself placidly 
 slighted. 
 
 Wherever he sat the seat next him stood vacant. 
 In New Orleans the handshake, the pause on the curb 
 stone for a social word, was universal, but now in his 
 case the pause, the handshake, all but ceased, except 
 that here and there an old playmate overdid it. 
 
 Outwardly he remained unruffled, of course, but he 
 was acutely pained. Often the worthiest "love a 
 fight" the humor of it. Not he; he could see no 
 humor in it. And that vexed him with himself. 
 Moreover, here was no fight. He wished they would 
 wait till he should say or do something not so utterly 
 trivial that cavil s smallest pincers could hardly pick 
 it up. He might have found comfort in the thought 
 that this was an every-day experience to most public 
 men ; but he did not want comfort would be ashamed 
 to be comforted after having confessed to an alien race 
 the wrong-doings of his own, however undeniable. 
 
 He was silent even to the judge, who, he saw, was 
 getting a lighter share of the same trial. That also 
 hurt him and when a bit of State history in one of the 
 
 ilO 
 
ALSO THEY MANOEUVRE 
 
 scrap-books required him to consult Ovide he willingly 
 met the old bookman s conversational advances half 
 way, letting himself fancy Rosalie a hearer, though she 
 was still on the yacht. For so did his love consume 
 him that everything with which he had to do was 
 weighed and measured by its supposable bearing on 
 her. 
 
 It was in such a mind that he by and by found him 
 self saying : " Really, Landry, your old-time abolitionist 
 friends had certain advantages over to-day s." 
 
 "Yes," said Ovide, with his touch of pomp, "condi 
 tions were more flagrant, sir. Also they had faith in 
 us." 
 
 "They were illusioned; we are disillusioned." 
 
 "Yes," Ovide further admitted, "to most of the 
 world my people are no longer even interesting." 
 
 "Yet the world," said Philip, "has really grown 
 kinder. Trouble is, it s harder than ever for even the 
 kindest to take the colored race in earnest. Pardon 
 me, but it seems a race of children." 
 
 "Say, rather, a child race, professor, which every 
 peasantry is, isn t it? But we re not all children and 
 we claim the inalienable, individual child s right to 
 grow up to such modern manhood as we individually 
 can. Sir, our deprivation of that right is the rock our 
 ship of freedom has stuck on these fifty years." 
 
 Philip gathered himself for a rejoinder which he be 
 lieved to be formidable, but a buyer thrust a book 
 under the old man s eyes to know its price, and Philip 
 left, continuing the debate in his mind alone. No, 
 
 111 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 not alone, but with that one, far at sea, with whom he 
 unceasingly communed. 
 
 The owner of the yacht was a famous Northern rail 
 way president whom the war had caught cruising in 
 the Gulf and whose wife, cruising with him, would not 
 hear of his hazarding the Atlantic while any war-ship 
 thereon, British or German, could to their peril make 
 any imaginable mistake. Their New Orleans friends, 
 the Smiths, lived up-town, and the lofty rooms of their 
 wide house allowed a very large assemblage, of which 
 a full third this time was Creole. 
 
 The city s choicest people were there masters and 
 mistresses of all its heights of power. Here English 
 was spoken with the Creole accent, there French with 
 a sturdy American flavor, and here and there a tranquil 
 two or three called each other, with an Oriental bland- 
 ness, such names as Isidore and Rachel. Arts and let 
 ters were not wholly unrepresented, the ribbon of the 
 Legion of Honor might be seen and young girls were 
 plentiful and beautiful. More than one were from 
 South America. The two elder Durels appeared. 
 Madame shone fair among the fairest. Her son main 
 tained a most finished and capable exterior, though 
 gladly accepting a seat as often as the rigor of the oc 
 casion permitted, and looking pitifully weary whenever 
 safe from observation. Zephire, too, was present, con 
 spicuous, outspoken, gay, widely acquainted. 
 
 Naturally in so general a gathering there were in 
 congruities. There was an affable, showy man whom 
 
 112 
 
ALSO THEY MANOEUVRE 
 
 Zephire twice and again sought out to be jovial with, 
 and who must have been valued for something much 
 better than the enterprise which had won him a for 
 tune, for even Alphonse Durel, in moments of actual 
 contact, showed him marked though unsmiling consid 
 eration. He was now a bold operator in cotton quite 
 the proper thing but had been lessee of the State 
 penitentiary before the abominations of the "private 
 lease system" had brought about its own abolition. 
 He and Zephire, Philip had heard at the first session 
 of his grand jury, had long been and were yet "in ca 
 hoot," to borrow a term from the Scot s note-book. 
 
 Another oddity was the presence of that winsome 
 mother and daughter from the missionary college. 
 Holden was their name. It seems they were cousins 
 of the railway president s wife. The Smiths, who, by 
 the by, were of Miss Castleton s church, had felt com 
 pelled to invite these bright-eyed social starvelings, 
 and they had known no better than to come. The 
 daughter had urged the venture, with Philip Castleton 
 in the middle of her mind. They made no acquain 
 tance beyond Philip s aunt, on whom Mrs. Smith 
 gracefully unloaded them. Oddly, they turned out to 
 be old friends of two or three of the aunt s dearest mis 
 sionaries in Singapore and Manila. Nevertheless, it 
 was some faltered word of hers that caused them to 
 decline the escort of Philip and the judge to the re 
 freshment-room, and they were the first to leave, going 
 unaware that they had made staying more awkward 
 for the Castletons, all three. 
 
 113 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 These, the Castletons, were tempted to wonder if 
 they were really themselves, into such unimportance 
 had they fallen. No one was rude, but they remained 
 unsought, and those whom Philip especially approached 
 had little to say, nothing to ask, and were easily dis 
 tracted. There was one exception, Mme. Durel. Her 
 sweetness, interest, and grace were as modestly forth 
 coming to them as to the most courted, and gave her 
 the spiritual guise and fragrance of a blossoming rose- 
 tree in its fiftieth year. So she was to all eyes, but 
 above all to the judge s and Philip s. To Philip s in 
 quiries she replied that Rosalie was at another party, 
 but would soon arrive, and that all summer she, Rosa 
 lie, had lacked vigor, spirit "may-be bic-cause mal 
 aria." Also that the yacht trip had proved hardly 
 "worse w ile; di n do no good." 
 
 114 
 
XIX 
 
 AT AN UP-TOWN RECEPTION 
 
 WHILE these words were tinkling on his heart the girl 
 herself appeared, at madame s side; or, as we may say, 
 the brightest star in heaven floated from a cloud and 
 stood beside the moon. A hundred adroit eyes noted 
 the star and her worshipper. Would she too show poor 
 attention, have little to say and nothing to ask ? Not 
 so. Her opening word smote him with a thrill. In no 
 dream of her could glance or tone have shed on him a 
 greeting so radiantly kind. And this was no dream, for 
 from three directions through the twittering crowd 
 three remote observers witnessed it unwillingly mon 
 sieur, Miss Castleton, and Zephire. 
 
 In a moment Philip was offering the same escort 
 which Emily Holden had most reluctantly denied her 
 self. Which being again declined, he proposed a seat 
 beside inadame. But Rosalie chose to stand. With 
 friends pressing in upon her from all sides, she praised 
 the superiority of the outer air, an air as of midsum 
 mer, said with careful lightness, "I suppose presently 
 I ll maybe find myself in the garden," and turned to 
 others, with affectionate greetings. 
 
 The garden was a very attractive one, whose wealth 
 of unusual flowers offered ample excuse for anybody 
 seeming to forget the claims and lures of the social 
 
 115 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 moment, and Philip, uncompanioned, had only to drift 
 there with the prattling tide and woo the roses while 
 awaiting their queen. But roses will not be wooed by 
 the restless, and when he began to fear that she had 
 been set to pour tea or that her two seniors and she 
 had taken their leave, he found her in the nearest 
 doorway, held there by two other Creole girls. How 
 ever, these took wing, and soon he and she were once 
 more among the flowers. "Now tell me," he said, 
 "how youVe passed the long summer." 
 
 "Long ? For you ? At those gay Virginia places ? " 
 
 "Their gayety didn t shorten it. To me, in at least 
 one respect, it was one long, long, weary day ; I ve 
 been so vexed with myself ever since we were last in a 
 garden together, and so wishful to confess it." 
 
 "And to take back all you said, eh?" 
 
 "No, that s the one thing I can t do, mademoiselle." 
 
 From -the girl came a faint start, a shade of distress, 
 a restraining stir of the hand, and then a dissimulating 
 lightness: "Ah, long, long, weary that s made in 
 Germany, that quotation ! You shouldn t quote that 
 to me when I ve been ever since the 1st of August 
 knit-knit-knitting for those French soldiers, and now 
 am meet-meet-meeting for the Red Cross." She 
 turned back toward the house. 
 
 For into view a short way off had come the two male 
 Durels, Zephire urging some matter on monsieur with 
 much warmth. Yet she spoke on: 
 
 "But you, if the summer had not been so long and 
 weary I wculd say tell me how you ve passed it. But" 
 
 116 
 
AT AN UP-TOWN RECEPTION 
 
 she dropped her voice, Zphire was approaching them 
 " for that you ll have to come at Esplanade Avenue. 
 Mere tells me to invite you." 
 
 Philip s heart leaped. "I will!" he said in hurried 
 undertone, and Zephire reached them. Rosalie halted. 
 Philip bowed and stepped away to her father. 
 
 Monsieur s reception of him was flawless in speech, 
 but his face was not the face that Philip had parted 
 with at Biloxi. Yet the lover, with Rosalie s and ma- 
 dame s invitation still ringing in his heart, could not 
 believe this frigidity was meant for him. With happy 
 animation he said to monsieur, whose arms were 
 folded: "So, Mr. Durel, your house, I see, is once more 
 a home." 
 
 "Yes, sir, and" the father watched his daughter 
 and Zephire pass indoors "a home is a sacred. We 
 are juz riturning there. I ll bid you good evening, sir." 
 
 Philip caught a breath. "Oh let me say, sir" he 
 brightened afresh "I ve just been invited to call in 
 your restored paradise." 
 
 Monsieur slowly shook his head. "Mr. Cazzleton, I 
 rigret to tell you, tha z a mizunderstanding." 
 
 "You mean to say ?" 
 
 The Creole shrugged and went back a step. "That 
 home is a very small. I m sure that call wou n be 
 pleasant for a gen leman that ricquire his friend to 
 forget he s white. An neither for yo gran father. 
 Well, good evening." 
 
 "Good evening," said Philip. Turning, he met the 
 judge. 
 
 117 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Why, Phil! What ?" 
 
 "Don t ask me, please; not here, now." 
 "All right. Come, auntie wants to tell the Smiths 
 we ve had a delightful time." 
 
 The three motored home bright enough and in their 
 own hall Miss Castleton, so prettily middle-aged, per 
 fectly dressed, and socially excellent, still smiled while 
 caressing Philip s shoulder and beckoning him up 
 stairs. But when she faced him in her room she was 
 in tears. 
 
 "Auntie ! what a shame for them to punish you for 
 me!" 
 
 "My boy ! I can leave them to their conscience as 
 I leave you to yours ! But, oh, if you d only thought 
 
 would only yet think " 
 
 "What, dear, who, which?" 
 
 "If you d only recognize that whatever the great 
 majority of a people passionately believe to be true 
 and right is almost sure to be so !" 
 
 "Passionately, auntie? History doesn t say so." 
 "Ah, history! Your stereotyped argument!" 
 "Oh, that it were Dixie s! But we won t argue, 
 auntie; that s not what I came up to say." 
 "Did you come up to tell me something?" 
 "I did. You saw us go into the garden ?" 
 "Yes" Philip knew no one who could so winsome- 
 ly mingle grief and love as his aunt "I saw you, 
 Phil." 
 
 "Well," he said, "out there I I walked the plank." 
 She hung an instant between gratification and re- 
 118 
 
AT AN DP-TOWN RECEPTION 
 
 sentment. Then "Rosalie Durel dared to reject 
 you?" 
 
 "Her father did. He s very daring. To cap this 
 general situation he s formally, flatly excommunicated 
 me." 
 
 "Alpho" Miss Castleton caught herself "Mr. 
 Durel had the face to do that?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. You spoke his first name, auntie. There s 
 something about him I d like to ask." 
 
 " Don t, dear boy, don t. I will say this much : Long 
 before you even before I was born, your grandfather 
 oh ask him. Phil, is he excommunicated, too?" 
 
 "Yes. If anybody can tell me why " 
 
 The lady did not say she could or could not, but after 
 a pauses" Oh, Philip ! And this ends all, doesn t it ? " 
 
 "Doesn t end my feeling for her; only heightens it." 
 
 "You you surely won t attempt in any way to to 
 circumvent her father, will you ? " 
 
 "No, as to that you may rest easy." 
 
 " Ah, my Christian gentleman ! " 
 
 Philip laughed. "I d like to be a Christian ruffian; 
 that s the newest invention. Don t commend me; I 
 know mighty well that nobody 11 ever win her by any 
 thievery, highhanded or underhanded." 
 
 "Oh, you wouldn t want a girl you could win that 
 way!" 
 
 "No. No, I suppose not under these circum 
 stances. I owe that to your bringing up." 
 
 "My darling! My heart bleeds for you," said the 
 aunt, but it bled no tears. Her tears had dried. 
 
 119 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Thanks." he said. "But you re glad, too, aren t 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, my dear yes. I m so glad that I if I d ever 
 sung a tune in my life I could sing the doxology ! " 
 
 The nephew smiled. "Let s omit the doxology. I 
 came up also to ask a question." 
 
 "Oh, Phil, I can t " 
 
 "It s not as to him or the judge, either; I ve nearly 
 guessed out both those things. But when you were 
 talking to those two poor little ladies N. T. s " 
 
 "Those Holdens ? It was very hard to do, Phil." 
 
 "Yet you did it, sweet. And I heard you tell them 
 about our church inspectors of missions begging you to 
 go with them to the Far East, and of your refusing, 
 although it s been your lifelong dream to go. Didn t I 
 hear that?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, though I didn t intend you should." 
 
 "So that s all off, is it your part of it?" 
 
 "My dear, no. I thought it was, till now. But 
 now that this affair of yours is off, bless God for his 
 wonderful ways, I can go. I ll write the board to 
 night." 
 
 "And you were stifling a lifelong wish on my ac 
 count ! " 
 
 "Whatever s your account is mine, Phil." 
 
 "Well, auntie" holding the door ajar "maybe I m 
 flippant, but that s what I call being too good Yes, 
 judge, I m coming." 
 
 120 
 
XX 
 
 BUT LOVE CAN LIVE ON LOVE 
 
 WEEKS wore by. The great city s life, so clamorous, 
 picturesque, unique, grew as steadily in volume and 
 energy as a rise in its vast river. 
 
 In all the breathings and pulsings of its multiple 
 functions commercial, governmental, social, festal it 
 daily, nightly breathed, drank, that wonder of itself 
 which makes the human multitude the inspiration of 
 prophets and the intoxication of the crowd. 
 
 Winter came on, by turns windy as March, wet as 
 April, warm as May, but always freighted with flowers 
 and fruits in place of ice and snow. The Castletons, 
 in their rounds of social activity, were far from over 
 taxed; the Durels, in theirs, still paid the bulk of their 
 social tax below "Can-al" Street, and nothing again 
 brought the trios quite together. 
 
 The nearest approach of any two of them occurred 
 thrice and thrice again on the most historic side of 
 that most historic spot in the Mississippi Valley, Jack 
 son Square, the city s old Place d Armes. There at 
 early evening of Saturdays if not oftener, Philip, soli 
 tarily wandering, entered the old Cabildo and sped up 
 its ancient stair into the rooms of the Historical Society 
 on some real enough errand of research, but soon re 
 turned more meditatively down and, as if on the spur 
 
 121 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 of the moment, crossed the adjoining flagged alley, 
 passed into the unlighted cathedral and took the near 
 est pew. There, at times alone, at times among more 
 genuinely chance listeners, while distant Canal Street 
 and its tributaries noisily drank their own wonder, he 
 drank the rehearsings of the unseen, overhead choir, 
 one supreme voice of which was to him the call of the 
 poet s blessed damosel from heaven s battlements. 
 
 Yet he was always first out of the church and earliest 
 to vanish in the gloom of the squalid old streets lying 
 round about as fast asleep as the Orleans princes whose 
 names they bear. One evening, in the middle of the 
 singing, an old negro woman came among the listeners 
 and sat near enough for him to observe her extreme 
 neatness, though without seeing that she took note of 
 him. In a minute her place was empty again. To 
 him a stranger, he was not so to her, for she was that 
 "sizter to the wife of Ovide," who "sinze long time" 
 had been a domestic in the Durel household and at 
 that moment was Rosalie s escort. 
 
 So thereafter Rosalie knew but sang no worse for 
 knowing, and Philip continued to come but also to 
 vanish before she and her duenna could ever trip down 
 and out and motor away. And grand mere knew, but 
 said nothing even to Rosalie save in that serene word 
 less way so adequate to them. But one night, at that 
 St. Peter Street, "Veau-qui-tette Cafe" corner just 
 above the Cabildo, a quiet voice said: "Well, Phil?" 
 
 Composedly talking of anything but the reason of 
 this intrusion the judge and he walked up by Ovide s 
 
 122 
 
BUT LOVE CAN LIVE ON LOVE 
 
 closed shop and to and around a square once full of 
 historic remains, now wholly covered by the State s 
 and city s marble court-house, which, as they passed, 
 towered out of its black surroundings white and stately 
 in the moonlight. But as they turned from it up Royal 
 Street the judge chose to say that he had come 
 prompted by thought of the perils of traversing these 
 narrow, lonely streets by night. 
 
 "So you risked them yourself ," laughed Philip. 
 
 "Oh/ 7 the judge as playfully replied, "I risked noth 
 ing but the ordinary hold-up. I m no grand juryman." 
 
 " Pooh ! you re a lot more. Anyway, there s nothing 
 out of the common before the grand jury just now." 
 
 The two moved on in silence and as they passed 
 through the tawdry night splendors of Canal and St. 
 Charles Streets something prompted one thought to 
 both men. "Zephire Durel," said the judge, "lives 
 just behind the cathedral, does he not, in Orleans 
 Street?" 
 
 "Yes. What of it?" 
 
 "Think he s never seen you there, or watched for 
 you?" 
 
 "No. Oh, no, after all he s a gentleman of his 
 kind; not Creole kind, just his kind. If he ever wants 
 anything of me he ll say it to my face." 
 
 "I think so. But Ovide his shop was still open as 
 I passed down tells me Zephire knows where you are 
 every Saturday evening, but is preoccupied with 
 others." 
 
 " Sensible Zephire ! Whereabouts ? " 
 123 
 
LOVERS OP LOUISIANA 
 
 "Oh, t other end of Orleans Street, in a regular Sat 
 urday-night festivity where a former flame of his " 
 
 " Philomele ? Clairvoyante ? 
 
 "Yes is humbly content to be the leading chaperon 
 while he s the beau of the ball." 
 
 "How should Ovide know all that?" 
 
 "By trying to get a young quadroon girl, their dupe, 
 Ovide s kin, away from them." 
 
 The walk continued. The homeward path was long, 
 but the air was balmy, the moon was high, and the 
 two comrades were in the dearest company fate could 
 allow them. By and by Philip spoke abruptly: "We 
 believe, don t we, as devoutly as any Durel, in safe 
 guarding racial purity?" 
 
 " Of course we do. What of it ? " 
 
 "Are we, our people, by our present passionately 
 upheld methods, doing that effectively, righteously, or 
 even decently?" 
 
 "You re thinking, I suppose, of those two " 
 
 "No, sir, I m thinking of millions. I m not thinking 
 of the cruel temptations those methods thrust upon 
 the sort of girl Zephire s trying to devour, and Ovide 
 to save. I m thinking of the grinding humiliations 
 thrust upon her kin, who dare not, on their lives, de 
 fend her as any kinsman would be honored for doing if 
 she, however forlorn a fool, were only white." The 
 words ran on, their warmth rising as though the judge 
 were contradicting. 
 
 He tried to break in, but Philip would not be 
 stopped. "Yes, oh, yes, it s academic, in this day 
 
 124 
 
BUT LOVE CAN LIVE ON LOVE 
 
 of colossal horrors. To a world in physical agony, it s 
 academic/ It s not academic to Ovide, I reckon, sir. 
 To him it s the bow of the yoke we hold on ten millions 
 of his race, calling that yoke an absolute essential of 
 our daily safety." 
 
 The judge tried the salve of concession. "It s not. 
 essential. It is itself a peril and a shame if only for 
 the way it warps our sense of justice and honor. But 
 why ?" 
 
 Philip started again: "Thank you for that word, 
 though it s for that, you know, that we re not wanted 
 under any Durel s roof, even Zephire s. It proves us 
 in love with the negro/ Why, sir," he laughed, "I m 
 that far from being so that I can t divine why he was 
 ever put on the earth. He can t himself says he 
 can t ! But he s here and if we ill-treat him the shame 
 and the peril of doing so, though he should never strike 
 back, is mainly ours.". 
 
 "Civilization and progress being mainly ours," as 
 sented the judge. "But, Phil, why should you and 
 I ?" 
 
 "Yes, civilization ! What lessons that frightful war 
 over yonder is hurling at us ! Here s our whole nation 
 debating unpreparedness. I tell you, for a people, 
 armed or unarmed, not to keep their hearts fortified 
 with clear, true principles of justice and magnanimity 
 is of all conceivable unpreparedness the worst. Prin 
 ciples can t be made overnight and put on next day at 
 a call to arms ! " 
 
 The judge smiled yet more. "True, Phil; but why 
 125 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 say all this to me here, to-night ? You don t always go 
 to the cathedral loaded with this, do you?" 
 
 "Yes! My dear sir, yes! Yearning to say it to 
 her!" 
 
 "But you don t say it. You unload on me." 
 
 "I shall say it yet. My chance will come. I ll not 
 force it. By some God-sent accident, in broad day, 
 under His unforbidden roof, the open sky, I ll have my 
 hour." 
 
 "My dear fellow, I hope you may. But you ll not 
 choose your theme; she ll do that." 
 
 At Philip s gesture the two halted. "Judge, you 
 know it isn t because of her beauty of face, form, or 
 voice that I can t take no for an answer. You know 
 it s her white-flamed passion for beauty in things not 
 herself, and for all loveliness and truth, certainly not 
 excepting public justice or human kindness. You see 
 how she s worshipped by all nearest about her family, 
 friends, servants, little children, even rival beauties 
 and their mothers. Can you think she wouldn t hear 
 me? Or, hearing, wouldn t honor me?" The pair 
 walked on. 
 
 Down in Esplanade Avenue Mme. Durel and her 
 son came home from a bridge-party, mounted the stair, 
 and said good night. She tapped at a chamber-door 
 and a voice invited her in. Rosalie came to her slowly 
 from a moonlit window. The two caressed each other s 
 shoulders. Rosalie bowed her head. Grand mere kissed 
 it, and the girl sank to her knees, weeping bitterly. 
 
 126 
 
XXI 
 
 AND A GOD-SENT ACCIDENT OR TWO 
 
 WELL, one day it actually happened. 
 
 Somewhere up the Mississippi a certain Dane or 
 Swede fresh from his own land, but speaking English, 
 had encountered Mr. Murray and received from him 
 a line of introduction to the judge and Philip. 
 
 Philip had tried to make New Orleans attractive to 
 this stranger historically, but his sluggish interest was 
 wholly modern and commercial; his one wish was to be 
 shown the harbor, particularly its new docks, and grain 
 and cotton-shipping facilities, and to that end the three 
 had made an appointment. 
 
 The afternoon was soft and bright. Except that 
 ancient square then newly occupied by the great white 
 hall of justice already mentioned as having blotted out 
 so many relics of history and romance in the midst of 
 the old Creole quarter, no spot near the heart of the 
 city had thus far been so radically modernized and 
 stripped of the picturesque as had the steamboat-land 
 ing. So, at any rate, Philip and the judge had warned 
 their stolid traveller. Its former hurly-burly of action, 
 sound, wind, sunlight, and color, they said, its confu 
 sion of tongues, of freights, was well-nigh gone. Its 
 commercial war-dance had tamed down to the meek 
 emaciation of an old ox turned out to die. The mag- 
 
 127 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 nified city s magnified trade was divorced from the 
 boats and married to the railroads. The wharfs, where 
 the beautiful old side-wheel steamers the Natchez, 
 the Lee, the Votaress, Paragon, Enchantress could get 
 only their cutwaters in and unload and reload across 
 their bows, stood now deserted. 
 
 There, regularly twice a day, from a point near the 
 head of Poydras Street, a melancholy stern-wheeler 
 made a circuit of the harbor to show it to a few, gen 
 erally a very few, sightseers. At brief intervals for an 
 hour before she went her woebegone voice bellowed its 
 invitation imploringly down into the city. Residents 
 seldom heeded it, and this time the two Castletons 
 would not have noticed it but for their appointment 
 to meet the Scandinavian at the boat s gangway. 
 They were barely in time. She backed out as they 
 crossed her gang-plank. Yet neither on the wharf 
 nor her guards did they espy their stranger. Instead 
 they discovered that there were two see-the-harbor 
 boats. The other was still at her wharf, farther below, 
 beyond the Canal Street ferry. The traveller was 
 probably there, awaiting them. Now she dolefully 
 mooed, as if specially for the Castletons. Their boat 
 went by her, down-stream, and before they had got 
 abreast the cathedral and Jackson Square Philip s 
 prayed-for accident occurred. 
 
 An hour or two earlier Mme. Durel and Rosalie had 
 been doing errands in the fashionable shopping district 
 about Canal Street. In Royal Street they had left 
 with a mender of fine china, for repair, a large and 
 
 128 
 
AND A GOD-SENT ACCIDENT OR TWO 
 
 costly bowl which their old negro maid servant, so 
 often Rosalie s attendant, had brought along. Later 
 they had lunched at Antoine s, but when they might 
 have resumed their shopping Rosalie had no heart for 
 it. She had come from home because home was so 
 intolerably quiet, and now the shops and department 
 stores were intolerable for their commotion and at 
 every few steps one met friends and had to talk and 
 give account of one s health. 
 
 Then madame remembered "sinze how very long" 
 she had suffered for w r ant of a penknife and that the 
 best place to get one was in Canal Street near the river 
 and quite away from the crowd. Past there ran 
 street-cars that would take them along the river-front, 
 by the cathedral, into Esplanade Avenue and to their 
 own door. As they went Rosalie threw off half her 
 listlessness. Anything out of the daily routine was 
 better than anything in it, and to go somewhere, any 
 where, off the daily path, was better than the path. 
 They had got the penknife and were about to hail the 
 car when Rosalie, preferring any distant sight to any 
 near one, noticed the Canal Street ferry-boat sidling 
 up to its wharf. New Orleans people had an old 
 custom of mitigating hot summer afternoons by con 
 tinuous round trips over the ferries. Besides this ferry 
 there were four up-town and two or three down-town. 
 On the one at Esplanade Avenue the Durels had often 
 given themselves this mild indulgence. 
 
 "Mere!" said the girl, "month January, air June, 
 and with Euphrosine " s that was their attendant "a 
 
 129 
 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 ferry-trip come !" The levee there is broad; only by 
 haste and luck could they be in time. Her pulse quick 
 ened. She led the way. They went Indian file. 
 
 "The millionth chance!" she said in her heart, as 
 she had been saying at every turn and hour for weeks. 
 "Heaven knows if by a millionth chance he may be 
 there!" 
 
 The distant ferry-bell tapped; they went faster. 
 But a freight-train crawled across their path, intermina 
 bly cluck-cluck-clucking, until L. & N., C. B. & Q., 
 L. S. & M. S., and a dozen other symbols of the big 
 world s work became terms of dumb exasperation. At 
 last the passing caboose left the way open and they 
 hurried on; but the ferry tapped good-by and they 
 stopped short again in the dusty sunshine, while old 
 Euphrosine exclaimed in tragic despair: "Ding, dong, 
 bell, kitty s in de well!" 
 
 The ferry-boat swung out and shuffled away for the 
 "Algiers" shore, and then what should fill the ear but 
 the call of the Poydras street harbor excursion-boat in 
 agony for passengers. "Mere!" cried Rosalie in the 
 midst of the din, "Trancadillo! the billow, billow!" 
 
 "Oui!" laughed madame, "en avant, grenadiers!" 
 and soon they were on board and mounting from deck 
 to deck. They found chairs on the hurricane-roof, at 
 the outer side of the texas, where they could see across 
 the river, into "Algiers," and had just sat down when 
 close overhead roared the boat s last wail for more of 
 such freight. 
 
 Two men came, belated. The ladies did not see 
 130 
 
AND A GOD-SENT ACCIDENT OR TWO 
 
 them, but heard a passenger tell how the boat had 
 begun to back out when they crossed the gang-plank. 
 Now she headed down the river, and the ladies and 
 Euphrosine stood boldly on the skylight-roof and 
 looked across into the city; the city so wonderfully 
 grown, so storied, so proudly loved. There, presently, 
 was Canal Street, in full length and breadth, so fondly 
 prized yet so gladly escaped from; and now it was 
 gone. Here came Jackson Square and the dear old 
 cathedral. But also, behind the onlookers, on the 
 deck, came quiet footsteps, and two refined male 
 voices which, for all their composure, strung higher 
 every nerve in Rosalie s frame. Her heart had barel> 
 time to miss a beat when Philip stood before her. 
 
 A single look from each upon the other told that each 
 had suffered, but the one gleam of joy which illumined 
 her word of salutation sweetened all bygone heartache. 
 
 As if purely for the mirth of it the two men began 
 to explain, each to his own hearer, how they happened 
 to be aboard; and then, purely for the mirth of it, of 
 course, the Durels told the story of the ferry-boat and 
 the train. To say they did so is enough and safest; to 
 try to tell how it was told would be trying to handle a 
 soap-bubble. Not once only to the judge, that earlier 
 night, returning from the cathedral, but again and 
 again to himself, Philip had said that the spring of his 
 worship of Rosalie was not her loveliness to the mere 
 eye or ear, but her passion for truth, beauty, and glad 
 ness, and her power to find them in other beings and 
 in things beyond herself. Yet now, asking his own 
 
 131 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 mind how one was to divide the inner charm from the 
 outer, he was loftily glad to get no reply. His joy 
 showed so plainly that because of strangers glances 
 she hastened to finish: 
 
 "And now you shall show us the harbor." 
 But largely it was she who showed it to him. Or so 
 he thought, and in the showing of it two or three sim 
 ple causes quite unnoted by him worked in her a new 
 charm on his heart. One was the hidden rapture of 
 reunion with him; another was a certain jealousy for 
 the scene, the region, its whole civic scheme, stirred 
 by a fear of his disparagements; and a third was a gen 
 tle intolerance of that touch of bookishness which his 
 critics imputed to even his liveliest appreciations. He 
 knew the harbor historically; the historic meanings of 
 its names, places, structures, enterprises. He told the 
 romance of them wherever they had dropped out of 
 the present and joined themselves to the past. And in 
 all those she evinced an interest warm and bright. 
 But over and above it she caught arid pointed out, 
 again and again, just that which he would so much 
 rather have shown her and taught her to appreciate: 
 The poetry of things in their present values and pres 
 ent grime; dry-docks, elevators, sugar-refineries, rice- 
 mills, foundries, shipyards, railroad-sheds, coal-fleets, 
 and the men of all sorts and shades in all of them; the 
 romance of their countless offices and movements in 
 the vast machinery of a daily ongoing world. 
 
 Sweet indeed to a lover was the marvel of the Creole 
 girl. This gift of vision she might have had without 
 
 132 
 
AND A GOD-SENT ACCIDENT OR TWO 
 
 being a Creole, but she was doubly sweet and marvel 
 lous through the perfect simplicity of speech and Gallic 
 unconsciousness with which she radiated its charm. 
 If love told him truly, she wore the gift like a silken 
 drapery, a texture as much of smiles and happy sighs 
 as of words, that never gathered the weight of one 
 rounded period. Oh, for half such grace in himself, to 
 inspire younger manhood on college benches, or older 
 manhood in the street. Unknowingly, that fair after 
 noon, whatever she may have been besides, she was 
 his tutoress. 
 
 Down by the old British battle-ground they rounded 
 to and reascended the yellow flood, past again the 
 Vieux Carre and the steamboat-landings, and went on 
 through the harbor s bends, turning back at length in 
 the swirling eddies of Nine-Mile Point. On water or 
 land there were almost as few signs of midwinter as in 
 their own hearts. The lofty cypresses of the swamps 
 were naked, jagged, funereal, gibbet-like in their drap- 
 ings of gray moss; but the swamps were always far 
 away, and in between, about all habitations, the few 
 trees that stood bare were hardly to be noted amid the 
 dark masses of evergreen magnolias, cedars, and live- 
 oaks; and the levees, fields, and gardens were green. 
 The pair stood at the front edge of the hurricane-deck, 
 madame and the judge sitting and old Euphrosine 
 standing a few steps at their back, when Rosalie broke 
 a silence. "But why," she said, with a wave of the 
 hand across the landscape, "why do I love this the 
 best in all the world?" 
 
 133 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Philip tried to tell; tried smilingly without the aca 
 demic touch, the bookish mustiness, but with thfc, 
 sweetness of human fellowship and social attachment 
 to define in brief the true patriotism. He had hardly 
 more than begun it before Rosalie most willingly saw 
 that it was his personal rejoinder to the disdain of 
 those by whom she was constantly surrounded. It 
 allowed the true patriotism a special intensity nearest 
 home, but required of it also a scope as universal as 
 humanity, and a sense of incalculable personal indebt 
 edness, beginning at home but extending to all civiliza 
 tion, and as old as history. He deprecated that love 
 of country which is mere pride of country, that national 
 complacency which is only self-esteem swollen to na 
 tional dimensions; and he exalted the patriotism whose 
 ardor demands of one s country that same integrity to 
 all the human race which his mother country requires 
 of him to her. 
 
 There Rosalie thrust in the name of Zephire. At 
 the same time she mentioned her father, the like-minded 
 attitude of the two men on public questions, and the 
 personal harmony which it promoted between them. 
 While Philip asked himself why she thus spoke she 
 contrived to put a tone of relevancy into a medi 
 tative expression of filial devotion to the widowed 
 parent, adding the significant remark that whatever 
 her father could not live with happily she could 
 never consent to live with at all. Then, as if flit 
 ting from one subject to quite another, she recounted 
 what Zephire had told her father of Philip s sayings 
 
 134 
 
AND A GOD-SENT ACCIDENT OR TWO 
 
 and doings in vide s shop and at the missionary 
 college. 
 
 Both girl and lover found much amusement in the 
 explanations he gave of acts, facts, words, and mean 
 ings; but both fell grave again over his elaborate ex- 
 cusings of Zephire s misinterpretations of him, which 
 he imputed to the cashier s devotion to public safety 
 and honor and to the happiness of those endeared to 
 him by kinship. 
 
 "Ah, kinship!" said Rosalie. "I am afraid of the 
 kinship of Zephire and papa. Tell me, you I can 
 ask nobody else what is your opinion of my cousin 
 Zephire?" 
 
 "Oh!" Philip caught his breath. "Oh! my opinion of 
 him " he managed to smile " ought not to guide you." 
 
 "I think it should. And I believe you ought to tell 
 me that." She dropped her gaze to the farthest deck 
 below, where there was least to see. "Because when 
 you don t tell me that, and maybe pretty soon some 
 bad luck comes to me because you didn t tell me, I 
 think maybe afterward you ll be regretful you didn t 
 tell me." 
 
 As plain as the river s bend which they were round 
 ing and which brought the great city s centre into near 
 view, seemed to Philip this great bend in his heart s 
 desperate fortunes. He dared not call the girl s deeper 
 meaning love and choice, but his soul cried out within 
 him, and every vein tingled in recognition of what he 
 could call nothing less than trust. He stood silent 
 with eyes out on the passing flood and shore, that grew 
 
 135 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 every moment more beautiful under long western sun 
 beams, intensely conscious that no silence or evasion 
 could pay due gratitude to such a questioner. After a 
 lapse of interminable seconds he said with a tight 
 throat: 
 
 "Rosalie." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Your cousin is your suitor." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And in every beat of my heart I am your lover." 
 
 Her gaze bent more intently on the lower deck. 
 "Yes." 
 
 "There is one other whom you can ask and whom, 
 whether I have the slightest ground for hope or not, 
 I beg you, for your own sake, to ask." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The old black woman yonder behind you." 
 
 The boat roared for her Poydras Street landing. The 
 five left it in two groups and at Canal Street the Durels 
 boarded a car for home. They might have missed 
 it but for a smart young Creole, a clerk in their own 
 bank. Seeing them coming, he held the car till he could 
 pass them in. Their radiant thanks gave him such 
 elation that he told Zephire of it next morning. 
 
 The cashier heard him through with exasperating 
 coldness and was tart to every subordinate for the rest 
 of the day. On reaching his rooms he took from his 
 hip a costly automatic pistol, inspected its parts mi 
 nutely, restored it to his pocket, perfumed a fresh 
 handkerchief and went out again. 
 
 136 
 
XXII 
 THE HAWK STOOPS 
 
 THAT same afternoon of the day following the harbor 
 trip, madame, Rosalie, and old Euphrosine stood in 
 the library, about to leave the house on a short errand. 
 The air was bracing, their motor-car had gone to bring 
 monsieur home, they would walk. But now a visitor 
 was announced, whom, though a merciless stayer, 
 madame felt bound to see. 
 
 "Go without me!" she commanded as she left the 
 room, and a quarter of an hour later the other two 
 were welcomed by Ovide in his shop. While Rosalie 
 turned aside, seemingly to bury her attention in a lot 
 of old engravings, the servant began softly to tell their 
 errand. 
 
 "And," unexpectedly put in Rosalie without looking 
 up from the pictures, "I must know it all first-hand." 
 
 After a few words more Ovide, by a glass rear door 
 letting into his living-room, showed them into the 
 company of his wife as black as he and in silver- 
 rimmed spectacles. He remained in the shop. A cus 
 tomer or two came and went. An hour ran by. Near 
 its end the silver-spectacled wife, at the glass door, 
 called him into the feminine council, but he was soon 
 again in the shop. 
 
 Followed by her attendant, Rosalie came forth speak- 
 137 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 ing her parting phrases lightly and volubly; but she 
 would hardly have come at all had she known how 
 plainly her beautiful face, her every high-spirited 
 glance, betrayed the distress left in it by the revelation 
 from which she was taking flight. A few yards from 
 the shop, on the sidewalk, her escort pressed near with 
 a soft question: 
 
 "Momselle, d d you take notice who wuz dat come 
 into de shop same time we uz a-comin out?" 
 
 "No. I didn t see anybody." 
 
 " T uz de young Mr. Castlemun. He Lawd ! 
 don look cross de street ! Here come Miche Zephire ! " 
 
 With much show of animation Zephire crossed over. 
 " Good evening ! " he said. "I ll make you a bet you ve 
 juz been where I m going; ad the shop of Landry!" 
 Even before he spoke he had read behind Rosalie s 
 smiling eyes high desperation and swift thought. 
 
 She shook her head. "You are mistaken. You are 
 not going there. You are coming with me. In Bour 
 bon Street Euphrosine is leaving me and I don t want 
 to walk home alone, neither to ride." 
 
 Instantly he thought. "Yes, he was there with her ! \ 
 She is keeping me to let him get away." Yet, much 
 flattered, he gallantly said: "Ah, w at a temptation! 
 But I ve promiz Landry, an a promiz , you know 
 He began to back off up the sidewalk. "I tell you! 
 Walk slow! I llritturn!" 
 
 She affected an arch unbelief. "No; you, you ll take 
 your time and I the street-car." 
 
 Through one of those quaint alleys next the cathedral 
 138 
 
THE HAWK STOOPS 
 
 Philip s alley, as we might say and around a corner 
 of Pere Antoine s Garden, she and the old woman en 
 tered Orleans Street. Once the centre of fashion, it 
 was now as quiet as a country lane. Just across the 
 way from a heavy building of many arches, that a 
 hundred years before had been a theatre, but had be 
 come a convent of negro nuns, a shabby Italian woman 
 gave Rosalie a quick second glance at both face and 
 form, not so much for their beauty as their air of pur 
 pose. In the square next beyond, over on the con 
 vent side, was the house where Philip had called on 
 Zephire. As Rosalie began to pass it old Euphrosine 
 murmured : 
 
 "Yondeh de place, Miss Rose. Da s her." 
 On its upper balcony, out over the sidewalk, a pretty 
 quadroon girl sat embroidering. When the old woman 
 cheerily bowed to her she went in. Rosalie hur 
 riedly led on toward Congo Square, into Rampart 
 Street and to her home. 
 
 Zephire found Philip and Ovide in the book-shop, de 
 bating some matter in one of the scrap-books, held open 
 between them. He let Philip speak first, yet responded 
 with buoyant courtesy, and added a comment on the 
 weather. "But you are too busy to notiz that, I 
 su pose, eh?" 
 
 Philip smiled. "I m not so killing busy as that." 
 
 "No? Whiles deliv ring all those lectures an 
 spitches? And with gran jury to boot?" 
 
 "Oh, grand jury s only once a week." 
 139 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 " Twould have to be mo h-often to do one thing." 
 
 "What? To round up all the lawbreakers?" 
 
 "No, sir ! But to catch even one of those damn* 
 sneak what ain t got the spunk to break the law! 
 Eh?" Swifter than his words, a pair of dilated eyes 
 silently added: "That means you !" But instantly he 
 had forced a laugh and resumed his urbanity. 
 
 "You know, I ad the honor to hear yo moze elo 
 quent addrezz ad thad nigger college. Thad was a 
 very surprising to me, thad addrezz. Yes, sir, I ve 
 been rif -fleeting it ever sinze; an the mo I rif-flec 
 that, the mo I fine it a wonderful. Yes, sir; that any 
 man with the faintez instinc of a gentleman could be 
 such a dog, to ap-olo-gize to niggers for being a white 
 man." 
 
 Ovide stepped closer. Philip, red, motionless, deep- 
 voiced, said : " If I thought you really wanted that ex 
 plained I could easily explain it." 
 
 The accuser s voice rose: "I ave egxplain it myseff, 
 sir!" He shook his finger: "You know tha z a per 
 sonal insult to any white man what hear it, an you 
 aim that insult straight at me ! " 
 
 With a note of expostulation Ovide stepped between 
 the two. The old woman in silver-bowed spectacles 
 appeared in the rear door. The Creole backed away 
 saying: "Philip Cazzleton, if you wasn a sneak an a 
 coward you would challenge me. But I ll supply you 
 that omission. You ll hear from me through a frien ! " 
 So he departed. 
 
 The old woman cried after him from her door: "Oh, 
 140 
 
THE HAWK STOOPS 
 
 you! De good God is long-suffhV, yit yo* time 
 will come ! " 
 
 A few minutes later a boy from the nearest phar 
 macy informed her that she was wanted at the tele 
 phone. Soon she had gone and returned. "Yass," 
 she said, " t uz Madame Jurel; her an momselle done 
 snuf de fox s trail." 
 
 Ovide showed concern: "What did you tell them?" 
 
 "Small pickings. Leas said sooness mended. 
 Nothin broke / s s I, Til be roun early in de 
 mawnin . " 
 
 In the evening of the next day Philip, while his aunt 
 sat reading, passed the judge a missive which the lat 
 ter, after scanning, retained. 
 
 "Can you arrange that, sir?" Philip asked. 
 
 "Certainly." It was Zephire s challenge, handed 
 Philip by Mr. Swift, the much-envied cotton-specu 
 lator, not all of whose money had been made in cot 
 ton. On the following morning the judge and Mr. 
 Swift conferred together. 
 
 141 
 
XXIII 
 BUT A DOVE ROBS THE HAWK 
 
 "My DEAR Judge !" was one of Mr. Swift s affec 
 tionate protestations, "I d be powerful glad to stop 
 this thing if it can be stopped, for my own personal 
 reasons." 
 
 "Would it be fair to ask what those are?" 
 "Oh, fair, yes. Yet I d rather tell you later." 
 While this was being said, and while Zephire sat 
 busy at his desk in the bank, with its president occu 
 pied in the back office, old Euphrosine, down in Or 
 leans Street, rang Zephire s door-bell. The quadroon 
 girl peeped out warily, timorously parleyed, and pres 
 ently let her in. Then for an hour nothing occurred 
 there in view from the street; but inside, toward the 
 hour s end, the old woman did much telephoning, the 
 girl standing by, quaking and tearfully wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 At the same time, around in Bourbon Street, Ma 
 dame Durel sat bargaining in a milliner s shop while 
 Rosalie waited sufficiently near the entrance to keep 
 in sight a small close-covered spring-wagon whose 
 driver had just drawn rein at the farther curb of the 
 pinched roadway. Presently the watcher stepped to 
 the door. 
 
 Over beyond the vehicle a small, girlish figure, well 
 142 
 
BUT A DOVE ROBS THE HAWK 
 
 dressed, but nervous and furtive, came up the side 
 walk. It was the quadroone from Orleans Street. Near 
 the wagon she slackened pace; yet she went almost by 
 it, then hovered, stepped abruptly up to its side, spoke 
 to the two negro nuns whom Rosalie knew to be its 
 passengers, entered it, and was quietly borne away 
 up-town. 
 
 With a backward glance to madame, Rosalie passed 
 out of the shop. Madame joined her. Their auto 
 mobile came up, received them, and at a leisurely dis 
 tance followed the wagon. They crossed three streets, 
 made a right turn into Canal and presently a second 
 into Rampart, downtownward, loitered by Congo 
 Square, and stopped at the crossing of the old rue des 
 Ursulines. Into it the wagon had made its third right 
 turn and they watched it jog onward until at Chartres 
 it made its fourth and vanished. They were satisfied ! 
 A few jogs more would bring it to the convent in Or 
 leans Street. 
 
 Their car moved on and they were soon at home. 
 Half an hour later another wagon, uncovered, empty, 
 came to Zephire s door, took in Euphrosine and a 
 trunk and by a short leftward circuit came around to 
 the convent. There the trunk was delivered. Eu 
 phrosine walked home. 
 
 When Zephire found his nest empty he instantly, 
 wrathfully, laid the outrage on Philip. He thought of 
 Ovide and his wife, but to them he could not accredit 
 the daring for such a raid into a white man s domain. 
 He thought of Philomele, with her still pretty eyes a 
 
 143 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 trifle too beady and sometimes too near together. 
 "Absurdly jealous" she was and had got him the girl 
 only in pay for a big money" reluctantly found for 
 her with which to lighten a desperate pinch. But 
 Philomele did not fit into the case, did not meet its 
 dramatic demands, half so precisely as did he, the 
 rival on whom he had but yesterday heaped insult 
 face to face and who had to-day vilely declined to 
 meet him on the field of honor. He set forth in quest 
 of him to shoot him on sight. 
 
 But he had hardly reached Canal Street ere reason 
 began to whisper dissuasion, seduction. After all, 
 there was the remote chance that the deed was Philo- 
 mele s. Five minutes with her would tell his match 
 less insight the truth. Her rooms were nearer by than 
 any one not of the police might have surmised; he 
 would drop in. Revenge could wait a bit; in the kind 
 of heart he was proud to call his, a grievance keeps like 
 sealed honey. 
 
 In her apartment, over a dinner ordered up by him 
 from a pension francaise, their interview was highly 
 emotional. On his way there he had begun to see 
 that this abduction had startlingly bettered his for 
 tunes. Not since earliest manhood had he been, do 
 mestically, so disentangled as at this very moment; 
 so free to marry. And marriage was thus made easy 
 just when it had become expedient, imperative. Im 
 perative for reasons known only to him, pecuniary rea 
 sons, the full force of which it had required the shock 
 of this hour to bring clearly to view, so immersed had 
 
 144 
 
BUT A DOVE ROBS THE HAWK 
 
 he gradually become in his quarrel with Philip. He 
 would reveal this imperative expediency to Philomele ! 
 She would kick, and if, to dissuade him, she should 
 offer to restore the girl, he would know she was the 
 thief. 
 
 He began jauntily. It was so good a joke, he said, 
 that he had come to tell his still beautiful old Philo 
 mele. "An bisside a joke, tis a gran piez of luck !" 
 
 She was glad. " What ? The ship? Reach port ? " 
 She meant no metaphor; the ship was a real one, bound 
 for the Baltic and full of cotton in which, with Swift, 
 Zephire held a share under whose burden he staggered. 
 
 Ship, no! No such good news as that! But all 
 the better luck for want of that good news. It was 
 but this: Just as he was at his wits end to know how 
 to "fire thad liT wench" she had up and run away 
 ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 Philomele leaped to her feet in surprise and delight. 
 Her hand-clapping rang to the ceiling. "Ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 "Yes," said her guest, "an now I m free juz when 
 I m also compel to marry ! " 
 
 On that word, that sky-wide lightning-flash, the 
 storm broke. It took him aback; a true Louisiana 
 storm, with tears for rain, accusations, curses and de 
 fiances for cracking thunder-peals. She had stood 
 enough ! Would stand no more ! Would go straight 
 to the bride and the bride s family and tell every 
 thing ! if it took a week to do it ! 
 
 To ride out the tempest he had to use every resource 
 of cajolery; had to confess more than he had ever 
 
 145 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 dreamed of breathing to mortal ear. The necessity, 
 he tenderly argued, had come about through her, 
 Philomele, and was as truly her emergency as his. To 
 pull her out of her pinch her many, many pinches 
 and to keep up his margin with Swift in this venture 
 compelled by her needs had forced him, over and 
 over, to make loans to himself from certain assets not 
 his own. These loans would presently shipwreck his 
 fortunes and reputation together if that real ship out 
 yonder should even be seriously delayed by the block- 
 aders of the Channel, or if the girl he proposed to 
 marry should suddenly be given to some one else. 
 On the other hand, he need never repay those loans if 
 he could but make this marriage now. And this he 
 could do if his dear old ever-young Philomele would 
 just be sensible and see in it her own advantage and 
 happiness, which should in no degree or manner be 
 diminished thereby. 
 
 It was two in the morning when he re-entered his 
 rooms. 
 
 146 
 
XXIV 
 IN BITTER AIRS 
 
 ABOUT a week after Zephire s mishap there came 
 one of those mid-January days when as in New Eng 
 land they say that at such and such points it was 
 "thirty below" they were saying in New Orleans as 
 impressively that it was "below thirty" and that ice 
 had been seen ! 
 
 The gardens bloomed on and camphor-trees, la 
 burnums, oaks, magnolias, and palms spread above 
 them, low and high, as green as June; but the banana 
 shivered in its summer rags, and ladies shuddered at 
 the "bitter air." In the evening the Castletons drew 
 near their fire of soft coal in a small open grate; the 
 Durels drew near theirs. 
 
 Without visible sign the Creole three were facing 
 a crisis. In their usual tones they spoke their usual 
 French, though now and then some such term as 
 "below thirty" was in English. As a picture of do 
 mestic peace they might have inspired a painter; and 
 yet, despite their placid tones, the firelight glow, and 
 every appointment of comfort, there was an uncon- 
 fessed winter inside the home. 
 
 By and by, without preface, monsieur handed Rosa 
 lie a note. Madame, as it passed, saw the monogram 
 of Zephire. Both women had been expecting the mis- 
 
 147 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 sive for a day or two. There had been long confer 
 ences between them, as also between the father and 
 daughter, the father and Zephire, and the father and 
 grand mere. Rosalie did not at once open the note. 
 Her manner was deliberate. She gazed into the fire. 
 Yet as she shaded her eyes with the missive it shook, 
 when she opened and read it it shook more, and when 
 she folded it again, small, it still shook. 
 
 Madame reached out, drew it free and read it. It 
 was Zephire s request that he be allowed to call on a 
 special mission the next afternoon. Rosalie spoke, 
 looking into her father s face. Had she looked away 
 while speaking it would have been for the first time in 
 her life. "I d rather not see him," she said, "unless 
 you greatly desire it." 
 
 "I greatly do," the father replied. "As for what 
 you say to him you have your free American choice." 
 He paused and she knew that he was thinking in bitter 
 anger, while he knew she was thinking in bitter grief, 
 of another suitor. "Zephire Durel," he resumed, "we 
 may accept or reject; but we must treat him as his 
 name, at least, demands." 
 
 "Yes," she meekly responded, and was silent a full 
 minute. Then she said: "You have freely admitted 
 I believe, to mere, that Zephire s past life " 
 
 Madame gently intervened: "Ah, cherie, you will 
 not speak of such matters to your father ? " 
 
 "Yes. To use my whole American choice is not in 
 me; but that much of it I must." 
 
 The father s reply was prompt: "I freely admit what 
 148 
 
IN BITTER AIRS 
 
 you have in mind. Zephire has as freely admitted it 
 to me. And I answer you as I have answered him; 
 that what one has been is far less important than what 
 one is going to be. My child, since you must know, 
 not in one case among a thousand will a young man s 
 private conduct bear high moral tests. The vital 
 question is, are his missteps behind him or before? 
 Zephire, at all events, is no hypocrite and that is 
 rare!" He paused, and each knew again that the 
 other s mind was on that other one. 
 
 Madame stirred to speak, but her son lifted a hand. 
 
 "Zephire/ he resumed, "did not bring me that note 
 till he could give me his word of honor that he had 
 cleaned up his life as a good ship is cleaned for a new 
 voyage." 
 
 "Cher papa," asked Rosalie, "whose word of honor 
 have you besides his own?" 
 
 The father started sharply. Then his hands shook 
 on the arms of his chair. "My daughter," he said 
 and the only dry eyes there were his "whose word 
 has disputed, to you, the word of a Durel? I know! 
 And I must tell you before you confront Zephire that 
 he whose word you have so accepted is himself as 
 Zephire can tell you of his own knowledge secretly 
 living the very life you are imputing to Zephire." 
 
 Madame broke in : " Ah, no, no, no ! I know better 
 than that! I " But at Rosalie s touch she for 
 bore. She dashed the tears from her cheeks, but Rosa 
 lie let hers fall where they might while she said: 
 
 "We need not speak of that one; he is dismissed." 
 149 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Monsieur winced in open consternation: "Dii- 
 missed?" 
 
 "From my mind. Yes, I cannot choose against 
 the will of a father who does not bid me choose against 
 my own." 
 
 "But, my daughter my God, what will you do?" 
 
 "Have I not that small inheritance from my 
 mother?" 
 
 "Assuredly; in the bank, of course." 
 
 "To be mine when I marry, or decide I will not?" 
 
 "Yes, truly, but " 
 
 "That time is come. I choose the lyric stage." 
 
 The father closed his eyes, pressed his temples, rose, 
 and turned away shaking his head: "Ah, my God, no, 
 Rosalie. Ah, no, my child. No, no, no !" 
 
 The daughter could not speak. Madame spoke in 
 stead, raising her lovely shoulders: "But what then, 
 my son?" 
 
 There was no reply. He wandered from the room, 
 returned to the door, said, "Good night," and passed 
 up-stairs. 
 
 The other two lingered behind, long, planning for 
 the lyric stage as well as for the next afternoon. 
 
 150 
 
XXV 
 
 THE TRAPPER IS TRAPPED 
 
 "Snow him into the library," said Rosalie to Eu- 
 phrosine. 
 
 "And start the fire," said madame, "and turn on 
 the light." The afternoon was darkening early. 
 
 "I m very pleased to see you!" said Rosalie to Ze- 
 phire, receiving him alone. Her mood had changed 
 over night. If there was in her pleasure anything un 
 flattering it was evident only by her not speaking 
 French. He put that out of mind and thanked her 
 elatedly. 
 
 Yet in his light way he felt the gravity of the mo 
 ment and was free of flippancy, though, as he never 
 received a compliment without inflating it, he said: 
 "Tha z a very pleasing, that ladies are always please* 
 to see me. It almoze rim-unerate me for staying so 
 long a bachelor!" 
 
 He had come primed to lead the conversation and 
 was about to launch into it in French when she, bright 
 as May, interrupted: "Still, I think you were not, last 
 time, in Chartres Street, so very pleased to see me, eh ? 
 Else you would have walked home with me, I sup 
 pose. You couldn t help that, eh? Ah, I think that 
 was a little judgment on you that you happened to 
 
 151 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 meet there at Ovide s somebody not very pleased to 
 meet you." 
 
 " Ow you heard abboud that?" 
 
 "Ah, is not the wife of Ovide the sister of Euphro- 
 sine? But you, tell me." The inquirer drew an inch 
 nearer the hearth and him. "The weather is getting 
 very cold. I am afraid that on the way home you 
 are going to feel it. But tell me about that. You 
 met there Mr. Castleton, eh? Tell me, Zephire; be 
 cause, you know, we are cousins! What is your 
 opinion of that gentleman?" 
 
 "Ah, I am distantly yo cousin, yes; but much 
 
 moV 
 
 She stared into the fire and said pensively: "Yes." 
 
 "An* Mr. Cazzleton, he is he is my " He hesi 
 tated. 
 
 She looked up abruptly, roguishly, and unutterably 
 sweet: "He is your what?" 
 
 "He is my rival, Rosalie." 
 
 With head gaily tilted, wrist beautifully arched, she 
 inquiringly touched her bosom. 
 
 He solemnly nodded. She smilingly shook her head. 
 He drew nearer : " You assure me that ? He is not ? " 
 
 She gravely moved an inch away, still shaking her 
 head. "Tell me but not in French; I wouldn t like 
 that in French tell me what happened at Ovide s." 
 
 "I will tell you. Thad tranzpire by j alouzy! 
 W en a man is j alouz, Rosalie, j alouz for the woman 
 he love , only woman he ever love in his life, he cann* 
 
 he p that, only if he s himseff a sneak an a coward " 
 
 152 
 
THE TRAPPER IS TRAPPED 
 
 "That s what you called Mr. Castleton?" 
 
 "Tha z w at I cou n he p to call him, Rosalie, an I 
 wizh you wou n look away like that, biccause twas 
 not alluding to you that I call him those epithet . I 
 di n allude to you at all. I love too much the ange- 
 lique name and honor of Rosalie Durel to permit allu 
 sion. But I catch him reading, cheek an cheek, on 
 same page, same time, with that black Ovide, an twas 
 abbout his politic that I call him those epithet ." 
 
 "Ah, yes. And twas for that he challenged you?" 
 
 "Challenge me? Me, I had to challenge him !" 
 
 "And he fought you I hope?" She fleetingly 
 smiled. 
 
 "No, he basely die-line* ! But ah! you are not 
 well?" 
 
 She narrowed her shoulders in a shrug. "I m well 
 enough. He declined? But whether basely or not, 
 that would depend. If he s got a ril-igious scrupu 
 losity " 
 
 Zephire shook his head regretfully. "Ah, chere 
 Rosalie, a man w at beg a nigger to forget he s a w ite 
 man, he s got, in the heart, no ril-igiouz scrupulo-zity. 
 An same time I ve got even mo better proof aggainz 
 him than that. Will Rosalie Durel do me the honor 
 to permit me to inform her thad proof?" 
 
 She bowed. "Tell me the worst possible. But 
 wait." 
 
 She touched a wall-button. "You ll have a cup of 
 tea with me? I m fainting for some tea. Well, go 
 
 on." 
 
 153 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "I ad a frien ," he began, but paused. 
 
 Euphrosine came empty-handed and set out a low 
 tea-table while Rosalie said: "Yes? Friend? Bach 
 elor, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, bachelor " 
 
 "In bachelor apartments, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, he " 
 
 "With a housekeeper?" 
 
 "Yes," faltered Zephire, abashed at her hardihood; 
 but when he would have labored on she interrupted : 
 
 "And Mr. Castleton, he s so fond of social equality 
 that he took a fancy to that " She turned to the 
 servant. "Please, Euphrosine, put on the rest of the 
 light. Euphrosine, I suppose the tea ?" 
 
 "Yass m, de gal s a-fetchin it." 
 
 "I am famished for a cup of tea," said the young 
 mistress and then resumed to Zephire: "And Mr. 
 Castleton he ?" 
 
 "He yes. Pardon if I ave to tell you that. 
 He " 
 
 "Ah wait ! I don t like to hear that. That s too 
 terrible. He he stole her ? " 
 
 "He steal her for himseff." 
 
 "And he s got her ? yet ? still ? now ?" 
 
 "He s got her yet still now!" 
 
 "Euphrosine," said Rosalie, and as the woman, on 
 her way out, paused, a young, petite quadroon ap 
 peared with the tray of refreshments and had nearly 
 reached the table when her eyes and Zephire s, in the 
 room s fullest light, encountered. She was the stolen 
 
 154 
 
THE TRAPPER IS TRAPPED 
 
 girl. She halted transfixed, fell to trembling, en 
 deavored to press on, stumbled to her knees, and 
 brought the loaded tray, with a jingling crash, safely 
 to its place. The three beholders darted to her rescue, 
 but instantly she was up again, in flight, and with one 
 wild backward look and a long, growing wail, glided 
 from the room. 
 
 Madame Durel, who had never been far away, was 
 in the door as the girl swept out. She saw Rosalie 
 slip from old Euphrosine s arms quietly into a chair, 
 laughing tearfully, and then smilingly regain her feet, 
 saying to the speechless Zephire as step by step he 
 withdrew : 
 
 "That s all! As the whiskey advertisements say, 
 That s all ! For ever, ever, evermore, that s all!" 
 
 His eyes gleamed. At the farther door, which Eu- 
 phrosine held open, he found his tongue. "No," he 
 said, bowing, "tha z not the half! Tha z only the 
 big-inning!" 
 
 The old woman let him out. When she returned 
 Rosalie stood saying to madame in dismay: "I never 
 thought of that! I never thought of that!" 
 
 "I notice you didn t," said the old servant, "ef you 
 means a street shoot n . Dat uz too low down fo yo 
 thoughts. Me, I think it. Better le me phone 
 Miche Zoppi. He live right roun here in S n 
 Claude Street." 
 
 "M sieu Zop -Zoppi?" 
 
 "Yass m ! De detective fo vur ba-ank!" 
 
 "Go," said both ladies, "tell him come at once!" 
 155 
 
XXVI 
 FOR THE COMMON WEAL 
 
 AT the edge of a drive in Audubon Park an automo 
 bile ran slow to let two ladies lean out and salute two 
 others moving in the same direction on the walk. 
 
 A moment startled, then delighted, the second pair 
 stopped short: "Why, it s Madame and Miss, eh " 
 
 "Durel," said they in the halted car to the wife and 
 daughter of the missionary-college president. 
 
 There was time for but a word or so, though sky 
 and breeze were most indulgent. Rosalie contrasted 
 them with the late "blizzard" and called the change a 
 "return to civilized weather." The Northerners gaily 
 assented, albeit their piety would hardly have chosen 
 the phrase. When madame archly added, of the sky s 
 pranks, that she had supposed " that weather had bet 
 ter sense," the gentle missionaries wandered off the 
 subject. 
 
 The Durels, it appeared, were taking a sunset 
 breathing-spell after a day in war-relief work, at which, 
 madame said, Rosalie was trying to kill herself. 
 
 They were fresh, Rosalie put in, from a droll experi 
 ence between their relief committee and a committee 
 of the old "Societe Francaise du Quatorze Juillet": 
 "No, to tell it would take too long, but another 
 time- -" 
 
 156 
 
FOR THE COMMON WEAL 
 
 "Ah, what time? At the Smiths reception you 
 said " 
 
 "We would call on you. Yes, we intend that, soon." 
 
 "If you ll come to-morrow we ll join your war- 
 relief!" 
 
 "Ah, most welcome ! But we ll come anyhow." 
 
 They came, but the droll experience was not, was 
 never, told; remains lost. Weightier matters took 
 precedence. 
 
 Philip s aunt, in one of the rashest of her many 
 poignant moments at the Smiths reception, had given 
 the Holden ladies the same promise to call of which 
 t*hey now reminded the Durels. What had tipped her 
 scales in their favor was the fact that, of a sort, they 
 were missionaries! "From Greenland s icy moun 
 tains" was Miss Castleton s Marseillaise. She had a 
 passion for propaganda, honestly mistaking it for as 
 pure religion as any defined by St. James, if not purer. 
 In her it was that congenital zeal for domination which 
 was also the spring of her intense antipathy to the 
 dominating, the tyrannizing sex; to all that sex save 
 Philip; he was hers, her possession, by victory over 
 both sexes. And by the bye, be it Philip s merit or 
 fault, he had never discovered these qualities in his 
 handsome, devout, highly finished, benevolent, almost 
 fashionable foster-mother, though Rosalie had seen 
 them even at Vanity Fair. But that is a digression. 
 
 The Holdens also had made a promise; had offered 
 Miss Castleton letters letters social, unofficial, to 
 other missionaries, in the Orient; to more real ones 
 
 157 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 than they, as they modestly said, and as Miss Castle- 
 ton privately thought. So when, an hour after meet 
 ing the Durels, they ventured to telephone Miss Cas- 
 tleton and to mention the letters, and she gratefully 
 replied that she was planning to call on such a day, 
 and they asked if to-morrow would not suit, she said 
 it would, and the Holdens felt as though they almost 
 belonged once more to society. 
 
 She was in their little white-walled parlor when the 
 Durels appeared; had been there long enough to re 
 ceive the letters and all the counsel they had stored up 
 to give her on Oriental travel and sojourn. Indeed, 
 the tea being slow to come in, they had drifted to other 
 themes and had fallen upon the ever-pleasing topic of 
 the Creoles, down-town, up-town. On one point, on 
 which the Northerners had had a false impression, 
 Miss Castleton set them right. There had always 
 been up-town Creoles, she said; up-town New Orleans 
 had overflowed upon them, not they upon it; their 
 ancestors were the original land-grantees. 
 
 "Indeed, yes!" the Durels chimed in, calling a roll 
 of historic up-town names Buerthe, Livaudais, Har 
 per, Dugue, Toledano, Soniat-Dufossat, Ferry-Durand, 
 and ran on into the old sad story of noble fortunes 
 slipping from noble into ignoble hands a most griev 
 ous thing! The five were of one mind that it was 
 very wicked of the wicked to be so very wicked, 
 and Mrs. Holden told Philip s aunt how gratified she 
 had been to learn, through the newspapers, that her 
 nephew was on the grand jury. "No, of course, no 
 
 158 
 
FOR THE COMMON WEAL 
 
 one could expect Miss Castleton to be glad of it, it 
 was " 
 
 "Too much like having him go to war," the aunt 
 said. 
 
 "Yes," the missionaries admitted. "Yet it was 
 good to know that he was of a kind of which true sol 
 diers and true jurymen are made, and they wished the 
 aunt would call his attention to one evil which ought 
 to fire the soul of every woman, and of which they 
 could tell much." 
 
 The response, though spoken with tearful eyes, was 
 unsympathetic. At best the way of the grand jury 
 man was hard, Miss Castleton averred, however her 
 nephew might laugh it off; hard and acutely liable to 
 provoke deadly resentments; but for him to go hunt 
 ing up public evils was altogether likely to incur only 
 failure, odium, contempt; whereas if he waited for 
 complaints to come to him he would be brought into 
 immediate touch with those most willing and best 
 able to testify, and so the public interest would be 
 best served and at least risk. 
 
 The missionaries were encouraged; the argument 
 seemed wise. "And now," the mother said to the 
 daughter, across Miss Castleton s front, "with a 
 grand jury led by such a friend of the friendless as Mr. 
 Castleton, Mr. Landry and a few of his society might 
 be moved to plead before it." 
 
 Unknown to each other, and for dissimilar reasons, 
 Miss Castleton and the Durels took alarm. "Who is 
 Mr. Landry?" Miss Castleton asked, and before the 
 
 159 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Holdens had half explained she had risen to go. She 
 could not even stop for tea, which had come in; could 
 only glance at the cups with the creepy thought that 
 any one of them might at some time have touched the 
 lips of "Mr. Landry." She hurried away in a sort of 
 detached sweetness. 
 
 When she was gone the Durels smiled with such 
 frank amusement that Emily, pouring tea, made bold 
 to say to the Creole girl, a bit anxiously: "You don t 
 suppose she felt any repugnance to our our tea things 
 on Mr. Landry s account, do you ? " 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Rosalie, suddenly grave, though 
 she and madame felt the same repugnance themselves; 
 "I think she just remembered an engagement. But 
 at the same time many of our American ladies and 
 also Creole might feel that, yes." She accepted her 
 cup. Madame was already sipping hers, and the 
 Northerners fell newly in love with them, realizing 
 what they were swallowing down besides tea. 
 
 "Yes," madame put in, "though tis true their ser 
 vant are of the same race as Ovide, an those servant 
 doubtlezz sometime use their china; only, of co ze, in 
 the kitchen ! " She punctuated with just the right 
 awkwardness a downward thrust of one arm with the 
 fingers spread wide and the shoulder lifted. 
 
 "Ah, yes!" cried Rosalie, repeating the gesture, "in 
 the kitchen ! But that s a tremendous difference, the 
 kitchen. And yet still at the same time, to see that 
 tremendous difference, I think you have to be pretty 
 logical, yes!" 
 
 160 
 
FOR THE COMMON WEAL 
 
 The Creole pair, trying to be as candid as they could 
 without marring courtesy; thinking, too, with all their 
 might, of Zephire, and alarmed at this new cause of 
 mortal enmity between him and Philip, began, without 
 a word of prearrangement, to aim at the same mark. 
 They would not stifle any hunting down of public 
 wickedness, least of all this sort; but for everybody s 
 sake they burned to save Philip Castleton from be 
 coming Zephire s accuser. Rosalie felt, and knew ma- 
 dame felt for her, that it was her right, and her need, 
 to learn at once whether Zephire was to be implicated, 
 and, above all, for her father s sake, to learn primarily 
 whether Zephire s corruption had tainted his fidelity 
 as cashier of the bank. 
 
 "You know," she indulgently resumed when the 
 Holdens logic had mutely failed to grasp the differ 
 ence she had so lucidly pointed out, "we know Ovide 
 Landry well. He was once the slave of my great 
 grandfather, and his wife is sister to one of our house 
 maids." 
 
 The Holdens expressed their surprise and pleasure. 
 Rosalie greatly liked their sweet, strange way of talk 
 ing exclusively with the organs of speech. She went on: 
 
 "And I think that if mere and I tell Ovide that 
 we ll be glad to talk over that grand-jury business 
 with him " 
 
 Both Northerners were startled to the front of their 
 chairs. "Oh, if you could ! If you would !" 
 
 But Rosalie had a question to ask: "Did you ever 
 hear of Madame Philomele?" 
 
 161 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Why, she s the very foremost offender. Mr. Lan- 
 dry " 
 
 "Well, I think maybe if we tell Ovide we ll stand his 
 back while he makes those complaints " 
 
 "Oh, that would be oh can you will you do 
 that?" 
 
 The Durels smiled to each other: "Yes, certainly. 
 We ll be very pleased to do that." They rose. "Yes, 
 we ll begin that immediately. That is, if you want to 
 leave that, all, in our hands." 
 
 "Yes ! Yes, indeed, we leave it all to you !" 
 
 The callers lingered to make one more point. " You 
 fcnow, Rosalie, w at we juz lately fine out." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said the girl to the Holdens, "you can 
 not stop anybody from being just a clairvoyante if 
 they haven t committed a" she was not sure of the 
 word and let madame supply it. 
 
 "A statuary offense," said madame; "you got to 
 prove a statuary offense." 
 
 The same matter came up once more that day, in 
 the Castletons evening group. The grand jury had 
 just held its weekly sitting, and Philip was tired enough 
 to find relief in saying things about it, maybe some 
 what boyishly to the judge. One of his confessions 
 was that to pass the long day laboring to accuse men, 
 individual men, men whom one might know person 
 ally, to snipe them off with charges of criminal over- 
 steppings or shortcomings even though the labor was 
 always and solely in defense of society and govern- 
 
 162 
 
FOR THE COMMON WEAL 
 
 ment might be unselfish and patriotic, but could not 
 possibly be pleasant. 
 
 Of course the judge reminded him that the moment 
 the grand jury handed a case up to the court every 
 benefit of doubt, and all clemency not dangerous to 
 the public peace, was secured to the accused. 
 
 Philip said that was all that made the work endur 
 able. 
 
 Such labor, the judge further suggested, was rightly 
 both exalting and humbling. 
 
 "Oh, it s humbling, all right," the young man re 
 plied, " for it compels you to sink every tie of friend 
 ship, acquaintanceship, kinship into the common good 
 as completely as though you were on the battle-line ! " 
 
 There the aunt broke silence. " No, Phil, no ! Ah, 
 no, the ties of kindred are paramount ! " 
 
 "Even in disregard of the public welfare?" 
 
 "Yes! Yes! You know I can t argue, any more 
 than I can sing; but I can give instances. I can give 
 you one right now, one that you ve got to face in a 
 few days. You re going to be petitioned and by 
 negroes ! a negro society ! to do something that will 
 make you still more scorned, scorned and shunned, 
 than you are. And I beg you now, Phil, if you love 
 me, don t consent ! Don t do it !" 
 
 "Why, daughter, what is it? How have you heard 
 of it?" 
 
 "Father, it s to investigate the misdoings of clair- 
 voyantes!" Miss Castleton told her story of the 
 afternoon. She had no knowledge in particular of 
 
 163 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 any misdoings, she rejoiced to say, or of clairvoy antes; 
 she was only taking an irrepressible, instinctive she 
 could go no further. 
 
 What she was taking was a maternally hovering 
 action against all imaginable or unimaginable assaults 
 or snares that could threaten her one chick; and when 
 Philip quietly, yet with a hard knot between his brows, 
 rose and stood with his back to the mantelpiece she 
 felt so justified that she pressed her point, looking up 
 to him through pretty tears: "Remember, dear boy, 
 we re about to put a continent and an ocean between 
 us. Don t make it more cruel for me than it has to be 
 anyhow." 
 
 Philip, looking at her, forgot all self-concern. "No, 
 dear," he said, "I must not; I won t; I shan t make it 
 a bit worse than I have to. But don t make a moun 
 tain out of a mole-hill though its pitiful smallness is 
 the main cruelty of it and sundry things." Yet he 
 spoke much too absently to satisfy her yearning. He 
 forced a general exchange of smiles and stepped out 
 of the room. In his chamber 
 
 "Come in," he said, ceasing to pace the floor, and 
 the judge, entering, crossed to a window. Philip sat 
 down. 
 
 "If auntie," the judge remarked, "knew what a 
 trap this catches you in she d have more ease than 
 trouble." 
 
 "Yes, I was so tempted to tell her so that I had to 
 get out." The young man left his seat, swinging a fist. 
 "Of all the scapegraces this city holds, why should I 
 
 164 
 
FOR THE COMMON WEAL 
 
 have to hale into court just that one who has made 
 himself my private enemy and is proclaiming me on 
 every corner as having in pure cowardice declined his 
 challenge? Heavens, Judge, what am I going to look 
 like now?" 
 
 " Heavens, what do you care ? The public eye " 
 
 " Oh ! I don t mean to the public eye, nor to yours, 
 nor auntie s, nor mine!" 
 
 "Ah, that way ! Yes ! Unh n. Of course, I can t 
 nform you; I can only offer my congratulations." 
 
 "I should like to know for what." 
 
 "That it s your uncommon luck to have love tested, 
 ire-tested, before you re committed to it for life. So 
 now go to bed and sleep on that, will you ? " 
 
 "Thank you, Judge, I will. I will, if I have to sit 
 on myself." Philip drew out a note and began to 
 read it. 
 
 "What s that?" asked his senior. 
 
 "A still smaller thing," Philip replied, putting it 
 away again. It bade him prepare to be cowhided on 
 sight. 
 
 "Good night," said the judge, in the door, linger- 
 mgly. 
 
 "Good night, sir," said Philip. 
 
 165 
 
XXVII 
 IN STORM, BY STRATAGEM 
 
 NEXT morning it rained. The wind blew a gale. 
 Philip was so late for breakfast that the judge had 
 gone down-town, and the aunt was dallying with the 
 last of her coffee. She was to begin to-day to pack for 
 her long journey, yet she stayed to keep her nephew 
 company. 
 
 For a while her words were few and all on the sub 
 ject of her preparations. But at length she said: 
 "Phil, dear, I want you to promise your auntie one 
 thing." 
 
 "Yes, auntie, I know you do." 
 
 "I ve been wanting for weeks to ask it of you/ 
 
 "Yes, dear, I know you have." 
 
 "It s no light whim I want gratified, dear; it s my 
 heart s deep, fixed desire." 
 
 "Yes, auntie, I know it is." 
 
 She beamed affectionately: "Then why haven t you 
 asked me to ask it?" 
 
 "Because, dear" he pushed away his cup and 
 changed his seat to the one nearest her " because you 
 mustn t. What you want to guard against is no more 
 likely to happen than why, auntie than you are to 
 get married yourself. But I love her and she knows 
 it. She knows, as painfully as you do, that I ve 
 
 166 
 
IN STORM, BY STRATAGEM 
 
 sought her love ever since oh, Atlantic City. What 
 would I look like to her to her father to myself 
 even to you making such a promise?" He had risen 
 and was lifting her fingers. She gazed up through 
 her tears as on the evening before. Tears in the voice 
 had always been adequate hitherto, but now even in 
 the eyes they were bewilderingly futile. 
 
 "Give your dear heart entire repose," he went on; 
 "the thing you dread can t happen. Some of the fin 
 est traits I love her for stand squarely in the way. 
 Yet on their very account I pledge you no pledge." 
 Tenderly smiling, he kissed her hand, laid it down and 
 was gone. 
 
 In Esplanade Avenue breakfast was as late as in 
 Prytania Street. What a storm! What rain! Half 
 of it in sheets, the other half torn all to swirling mist. 
 The petite quadroon maid, the stolen one, waiting on 
 the table, said that the cook said that the chauffeur 
 said that the milkman, bread-man, newspaper-man, 
 and postman all had said that certain streets were 
 overflowed and that the storm had been terrible along 
 the Mississippi Sound coast. Now it was abating. 
 
 In full daylight as full as the storm s darkness 
 allowed Rosalie had lingered in bed almost until 
 now, and even with mere standing fondly by had 
 literally, though laughingly, beat her brows. There 
 was just one imperative thing to do : For reasons many 
 in order to prevent Zephire s encountering Philip; to 
 delay Ovide s petition to the grand jury; and to get a 
 chance to look privately into Zephire s books the 
 
 167 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 thing to do without delay was to get the cashier, how 
 ever transiently, out of town. But what a problem ! 
 Thump ! thump ! thump ! on her temples. 
 
 Ever since that drop below thirty monsieur had had 
 a cold that kept him constantly turning in his seat, at 
 home or at the bank, to see if some miscreant had not 
 left a door open. Now after breakfast, sitting at a 
 closed window of the library with the morning paper, 
 he was addressed by madame: 
 
 "There will be little doing at the bank to-day, Al- 
 phonse; you can stay at home." 
 
 "And, thanks to the telephone," said Rosalie at his 
 back, with her hands on his shoulders, "you can sit 
 by the fire and give your cold the coup de grace." 
 
 "The fire is even now too warm." 
 
 "Well, there is the ice-pitcher; you can sit there!" 
 
 Despite her levity a figurative beating of her brows 
 continued. If this dear father should stay at home 
 how could Zephire be spared from the bank? Yet 
 blessings on the storm, for the time being it averted 
 street encounter. She began a conversational recon- 
 noissance: "The war news is fine, papa, is it not? 
 Great gains in the Carpathians!" 
 
 "Yes, that is fine." 
 
 "Is there still no hope for an opera season?" 
 
 "I fear there is none." 
 
 "The papers say last year was fine for the New Or 
 leans banks. I hope that is true, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, after all, it has been good." 
 
 "For all the banks?" 
 
 168 
 
IN STORM, BY STRATAGEM 
 
 "No, not every bank. In the later half of the year 
 the railroads suffered from bad legislation, cotton went 
 low, failures were very many, and some banks felt the 
 pinch." 
 
 "Did our bank feel it?" 
 There was no reply. 
 
 "Papa, what is the matter with our bank inside?" 
 "My daughter ! There is nothing the matter inside 
 and very little outside, only " The father glanced 
 o the window. "I think I will go now, the storm is 
 quieting." 
 
 "Ah!" his mother protested, "that quiet will not 
 ast!" 
 
 "Sit still," said the daughter, "while I telephone 
 Zephire that anyhow this morning you will not come !" 
 She vanished and presently was back again. "All 
 ight, he says, there is nothing " Again she disap- 
 >eared; the telephone was calling. As she once more 
 eturned, her elders sprang up, and with the word 
 Telegram!" she began to read from a pencilled note: 
 Biloxi ! Roof leaking bad ! Sailboat blown ashore ! 
 Bath-house and wharf gone I Somebody, come quick ! 
 Vlinerve! " 
 
 A second tune, in her heart, she blessed the storm. 
 She glanced at madame, then spoke to her father: 
 You cannot go to Biloxi!" 
 
 "No," madame joined in, "you can only send Ze 
 phire. First train is 3.25; the bank will be closed." 
 Monsieur shook his head. "Not Zephire. Impossi- 
 Whoever goes will have to stay over to-morrow." 
 169 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "But!" cried Rosalie, "what is to-morrow but Sat 
 urday ? Bank open only till twelve. Zephire can stay 
 over even till Monday morning. And that is what we 
 want!" 
 
 " What ! Why should we want that ? " 
 
 "We want him anywhere out of the city! Papa, 
 you must listen. Zephire has been behaving badly." 
 
 The father tossed a hand. "Ah, bah! I know all 
 about that. Only yesterday I called him into my office 
 and told him: Now that you have proclaimed the 
 gentleman a coward and a sneak you are done. If he s 
 going to let you do that, very well; but if you go any 
 farther you may bring about a public mention of your 
 cousin Rosalie, and so I demand your word of honor 
 that the matter stop right here. " 
 
 "And he gave you his word of honor?" 
 
 "He gave me his word of honor." 
 
 Rosalie smilingly took him by the sleeve: "Yes. 
 Well, now we will show you how much that word is 
 worth." 
 
 Monsieur was instantly up in arms. "On whose 
 word will you show me that? Not ?" 
 
 "No," madame eagerly put in, "not Philip Cazzle- 
 ton s nor his grandfather s." 
 
 "No," said Rosalie, "nor even on the word of your 
 daughter, but of your mother." She drew him reluc 
 tantly to a seat, waved madame into one beside it, 
 turned away, and at the farthest window stood looking 
 out into the storm. 
 
 Yet her alertest attention was bent inward to the 
 170 
 
IN STORM, BY STRATAGEM 
 
 converse behind her. There the speech, of which she 
 could make out only an occasional word, was almost 
 wholly madame s, with now and then an interrupting 
 query from her father, each one less resentful than its 
 forerunner. She caught in turn the mention of Eu- 
 phrosine, Ovide, the negro nuns, the Holdens, Miss 
 Castleton, and Philomele. 
 
 "And so now for the moment," said monsieur to his 
 mother, "you hold the whip by the handle." 
 
 "Yes, Rosalie holds it." 
 
 "My dear mother, there is no law against that 
 woman for being a clairvoyante." 
 
 "Ah, that is neither here nor there. She and Ze- 
 phire- 
 
 Rosalie had come close. "Papa," she broke in, 
 "there is no law against him either, for being a bank 
 Cashier." 
 
 "Ah, neither is that here nor there." 
 
 "My dear papa, let us see. When you know that, 
 on his honor, your cashier has pardon the word lied 
 to the girl he wants to marry, and to her father, and 
 has done that to shift a still viler crime from himself 
 to his pardon again his " 
 
 "His rival in love," said madame. 
 
 The girl turned away and tossed her arms: "Oh! 
 . . . Oh! ... Oh!" 
 
 She faced round again. "When you know that to be 
 true, what as they say are you going to do about 
 it? What are you going to do as the chief guardian 
 of the name of Durel, or as the son of your mother, or 
 
 171 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 as the father of your daughter, or as the president of 
 your bank?" 
 
 She ceased. Madame was covertly, dissuadingly 
 pressing her hand. The father s head sank to his 
 breast. The daughter sprang and touched a bell- 
 button, then darted back and dropped to her knees at 
 his. His hands, unwillingly yielded, were cold. A 
 light footfall came in response to the bell, but madame 
 sprang up, waving it back. 
 
 "Go! go away!" she whispered. "Send Euphro- 
 sine!" 
 
 Both father and daughter glanced after the retreat 
 ing figure. It was the abducted girl. He moaned, but 
 straightened higher and partially regathered his force. 
 Rosalie caught new courage. She stood up. "Listen, 
 papa, again. If Zephire is still an honest bank officer 
 you could not do him a finer service than this. Guar 
 dian angels have brought us this opportunity. In 
 twenty years there may not be such another. Let me 
 go and tell him to take the first train." 
 
 "No, you he might suspect. I will tell him myself." 
 He went out to the instrument. Euphrosine came in. 
 
 "Never mind," said madame, "M sieu Alphonse 
 was a moment faint. Tis pas . Your sizter an her 
 husban , Euphrosine, they are pretty well ? " 
 
 "Yass m," said the housemaid, withdrawing, "she 
 ax me to tell you dat Ovide be at yo sarvice fo any 
 thing lak what you done mention . Yass m." 
 
 The master of the house, re-entering, passed her in 
 the doorway. "Eh? Wat is that?" 
 
 172 
 
IN STORM, BY STRATAGEM 
 
 But Rosalie cried gayly: "Don t you tell him, Eu- 
 phrosine ! Don t you say a word ! Go !" 
 
 The father frowned, smiled, gave a soft grunt and 
 toss and sank into an armchair: "I have told him. He 
 is pleased. He goes on the 3.25. His own boat is 
 unhurt." 
 
 173 
 
XXVIII 
 BETWEEN THE BOXES AND THE BOOKS 
 
 "AND now/ said Rosalie, "how will you proceed?" 
 
 "It is simple. I call in a professional accountant 
 and examiner, a man of the highest standing both in 
 his profession and out of it " 
 
 Madame demurred. "Ah, Alphonse, the higher the 
 worse!" 
 
 "My faith! How?" 
 
 "My son, it is a terrible thing to have even one 
 man, of highest standing, to carry the secret, keeping 
 it or not keeping it, that a Durel has betrayed his 
 financial trust. That is not the kind of man I would 
 choose." 
 
 "My dear mother, and what kind, then, would you 
 choose?" 
 
 "I would choose a man of no standing at all; not 
 honored, just honest, and loving and honoring, as if 
 they were his own good name, the names of Ducatel 
 and Durel." 
 
 "Yes!" cried Rosalie, "and that is Ovide Landry! 
 Ovide is the key to the lock, the man of the hour ! By 
 birth, by all his life the appointment of a merciful 
 heaven ! " 
 
 " My God I " gasped the father. " To spy out a white 
 man s stewardship?" 
 
 174 
 
BETWEEN THE BOXES AND THE BOOKS 
 
 "Yes ! Yes I So to keep the secret in the family ! " 
 
 "In both families/ said monsieur meditatively. 
 
 " Both ? " asked madame. " Both ? " 
 
 "My dear mother, yes. If Zephire has gone wrong, 
 one of the tellers, one of the Ducatels, has gone wrong 
 with him. No one man alone could rob my bank, but 
 a cashier and a teller combined can skin any bank in 
 the land." 
 
 That night the sky cleared. The next day at twelve 
 the bank s doors stood locked and the only one in its 
 cages was a single clerk waiting to set the time-lock 
 and close the vault. For back in the president s office 
 M. Durel lingered with no better purpose than to 
 shorten a poor clerk s half-holiday while chatting idly, 
 gaily, with the two ladies of his household, who had 
 come for him in their motor-car. How thoughtless are 
 the care-free rich ! But now at last the giddy three 
 came out into the bank. 
 
 "Ah, Eugene, you can go; I will close the vault 
 myself." 
 
 "I am in no hurry," laughed Eugene heroically and 
 was gone like a wild duck. 
 
 "Now, both you have each your little key?" asked 
 monsieur, and the ladies showed two keys which had 
 lain in their jewel-cases untouched for years while he 
 supposedly, but Zephire in fact, had held their dupli 
 cates. He flashed on the lights of the vault and 
 entered it alone, the other two waiting silently with 
 out. To be shut inside a bank at such an hour dis 
 poses one to breathe gently and step softly in awe of 
 
 175 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 its slumbering power, and to realize everything beyond 
 its walls, near and far, with an unusual intensity. Out 
 there the great city flowed and eddied, clanged and 
 thundered, so awfully full of wrongs and vices staring 
 and glittering, elbowing and flaunting; so quietly full 
 of virtues and kindnesses as unseen to the heedless 
 eye as the salt in the sea, yet keeping the great deep 
 of humanity unspoiled. 
 
 Monsieur s face was brighter when he reappeared. 
 In each hand he bore a safe-deposit box. "Feel their 
 weight," he challenged, setting them on a table. Their 
 weight was reassuring. But when madame had opened 
 her box, and Rosalie hers, they found them full of long 
 blank envelopes containing 
 
 "Nothing," murmured the mother to her son, and 
 
 "Nothing," murmured the daughter. She clasped 
 her hands on the reclosed box and with tearful eyes 
 but smiling face added: "As for me alone, I should be 
 satisfied satisfied! I would say: Cheap! at double 
 the price! " 
 
 "But, Alphonse, your own boxes?" 
 
 The banker shook his head: "I have emptied those 
 myself. Because of others I have had to borrow much 
 of late. All my securities are hypothecated. We are 
 ruined, and I am one more bank president disgraced." 
 
 " Not so ! Again and again, not so unless still 
 others have been robbed ! If not, then only Ovide will 
 ever know, and Ovide will perfectly understand ! " 
 
 "Ah, my mother, my daughter ! You do not, your 
 selves, even now, perfectly understand. I have had 
 
 176 
 
BETWEEN THE BOXES AND THE BOOKS 
 
 fifty hours without sleep, in which to think that over, 
 and if I am still an honest banker I must take at least 
 one white man into my confidence." 
 
 "Ah, papa! . . . Ah, papa!" 
 
 "Not just to be telling a white man, my daughter, 
 but- 
 
 " I know why ! I guess it ! I know ! " 
 
 "I think not. It is just what you would never 
 guess of me. I must tell him though not officially 
 because he is foreman of the grand jury." 
 
 She flinched. "Fore " she murmured, as though 
 she dreamed. 
 
 "Yes, and only because he holds that office." 
 
 "Ah," said madame to Rosalie, "that is the best 
 reason!" 
 
 "There could be no other," replied the girl. "But, 
 papa, he will want his lawyer, and that is his grand 
 father." 
 
 "But how do we know," queried madame, "that 
 either will consent to come? Have they not had 
 enough of Zephire?" 
 
 "I have thought of that," said her son. "Rosalie 
 will telephone the young man " 
 
 "No," said both women in one breath, and madame 
 added: 
 
 "You will do that yourself, but you will say: My 
 daughter is here and wants to ask you something/ 
 And then but when will that be?" 
 
 "At once and right here; only, first Ovide." 
 
 Monsieur closed the vault, the three left the bank. 
 177 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 But presently they were back again, having motored 
 down to Ovide s shop and made a full arrangement 
 with him. Now they rang up the Castletons number. 
 
 "No, neither gentleman was in. Mr. Philip might 
 be at the university." But the university said no, he 
 was gone from there; might be at Howard Library. 
 He was. The library had no telephone, but used a 
 neighbor s. "This is Philip Castleton." 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton, this is Mr. Durel; Alphonse, presid* 
 yes. My daughter " 
 
 "Mr. Castleton, this is Rosalie Durel, at the bank; 
 also mere and papa. The bank is closed, everybody 
 gone. Zephire is across the lake. We want to see 
 you a few moments. You can come ? At the bank ? 
 Now? By side door?" 
 
 She hung up. "He will come at once." 
 
 Waiting, the three sat and planned. To which of 
 the three the chief credit belongs for the ingenious de 
 sign they were presently to reveal to Philip matters 
 not; the first thought of it was Rosalie s. Within a 
 quarter of an hour there came a tap on the side door, 
 and Philip was let in. 
 
 "Well, sir," said the banker, "I su pose you ll be 
 surprise at us when you know that one reason we have 
 ask you here tis to invite you an the judge an if 
 convenient yo h-aunt to go with us this evening ad 
 the theatre. We have already the box." 
 
 Rosalie interrupted : " That s not the way to invite 
 you, but before you decline you must hear why you re 
 invited that way." 
 
 178 
 
BETWEEN THE BOXES AND THE BOOKS 
 
 Philip smiled. "Do I betray symptoms of declin 
 ing?" 
 
 "My dear sir," monsieur said, "you, even if die- 
 lining, you wou n bit-ray symptom . But we have to 
 confess we are prop-osing that pleasure as a matter of 
 business." 
 
 "Of the bank," said his mother, while 
 
 "Of the grand jury," suggested the daughter. 
 
 Philip smiled again, all round. "Is this a riddle?" 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton," said monsieur, "we ave juz find 
 sign of trouble in thiz bank." 
 
 Philip clutched the arms of his chair. "Yes, sir?" 
 
 "Yes; maybe true sign , maybe no; but if true a part 
 of thad blame is on me. Biccause of that I have to 
 ask you to take me unofficially into yo cuztody." 
 
 Philip could only bow, and shift in his chair. 
 
 "Biccause, firz thing, tha z to examine those ac 
 count , an till we fine out something wrong we muz 
 keep that from the public, so not to make a run on the 
 bank. Also my cashier by my requess he s out of 
 the State, an if he take al-arm" hands and shoulders 
 went up. 
 
 " When will you have the examination ? " 
 
 "Commencing at nine to-night." 
 
 "While we are at the theatre?" 
 
 "While we are su pose there; but you an me, leav 
 ing those other ad the play, we ll be here ad the bank 
 with that examiner, to rim-ain till he s finizh . But I 
 muz tell you, that examiner he s black ! He s Ovide 
 Landry." 
 
 179 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "That s all right, sir, but are you willing the judge 
 should know all this?" 
 
 "We are willing. But yo h-aunt I thing maybe 
 she s not compel to know, eh?" 
 
 "Why, ladies, I know my aunt can t come. She s 
 very busy preparing to go away and has a prior engage 
 ment." 
 
 The ladies were sorry yet very lenient. "But 
 Judge ?" Rosalie began to ask, when her father in 
 terrupted. 
 
 "And you will make me," he said, "one promiz? " 
 
 "I ll have to ask what it is." 
 
 "That you will do nothing aggains Zephire till we 
 fine out the condition of the bank." 
 
 "I promise that. Now may I ask something?" 
 
 "At your pleasure." 
 
 "The State examiner, when shall you call him in?" 
 
 "When my board shall choose." 
 
 "And you expect to inform your board ?" 
 
 "At ten to-morrow, Sunday, if we fine something 
 bad, same time whiles offering my resignation." 
 
 The ladies stirred with new distress. "But Judge 
 Castleton?" inquired Rosalie, for a diversion. 
 
 "Probably I can settle that here by telephone," said 
 Philip. He took the receiver. "Judge?" he called; 
 an answer came. Briefly stating the invitation s im 
 portance, not its purport, he gave it, waited, frowned. 
 "Oh!... Oh! Can t you ? Yes !" and while he 
 waited again he explained that the judge had a conflict 
 ing appointment which he was endeavoring to cancel. 
 
 180 
 
BETWEEN THE BOXES AND THE BOOKS 
 
 "Tink," said the instrument. "Yes," replied Philip, 
 and all four heard the judge, as if he were but nine 
 inches high, say he "accepted with pleasure." 
 
 They rose. "Now, sir," said Philip, "where am I 
 to meet you ? At the theatre ? " 
 
 The banker shook his head. "We are not to sep- 
 arrate. We ll sen the ladies ad home an lunch to 
 gether. Je ne suis pas prisonnier, mais I am in yo 
 cuztody." 
 
 The play that night was one of the choicest of the 
 season. A minute before the curtain rose, in the radi 
 ance of a fully lighted auditorium and in view of a 
 fashionable assemblage, the Durels, with the judge, 
 Philip, and one of the Ducatel bank-tellers, entered 
 their box. To the Castletons the whole affair was a 
 strange bit of punctilio, dazzling in its integrity, " very 
 Creole," as the judge said to Philip, yet not without a 
 touch of Creole finesse. 
 
 "You see M. Durel has also us in his custody." 
 
 "That s all right," Philip replied, and turned to 
 Rosalie. 
 
 The judge sat with the ladies. The teller had a 
 choice rear seat. Monsieur confessed a growing "mi 
 graine," and when in the darkness of the first act the 
 teller missed him and Philip the headache amply ac 
 counted for their absence. 
 
 Soon after daylight, while Ovide stayed, monsieur 
 let Philip out at the bank s side door. No need re 
 mained for either to hold the other in custody. By 
 telephone a meeting of the board was already called. 
 
 181 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Conditions had been found as bad as any outwitted 
 State inspection had ever failed to detect worse than 
 they possibly could have been but for a president s 
 misplaced confidence. 
 
 Said Philip, alone with the judge at breakfast: "Ze- 
 phire, using that teller, has been robbing the bank for 
 years. The first step now is to make his stealings good 
 without letting the facts get beyond the board. It will 
 take all the Durels have got, even if they re allowed 
 time to reduce their realties to cash. They ll save 
 nothing " 
 
 "But honor," said the judge, "honor and loveliness." 
 
 "And poor relations/ Philip added. 
 
 182 
 
XXIX 
 HER WOOF ON HIS WARP 
 
 MONDAY morning found Zephire at his desk. 
 
 That the board had met on Sunday or that any one 
 had been in the bank since Saturday noon there was 
 no sign save in the president s face. There Zephire 
 noted a refined haggardness for which an increased 
 cold hardly accounted. 
 
 The cashier early heard of the theatre-party from 
 the Ducatel whom it had included, and instantly saw 
 his Biloxi mission in a new yet false light. But Ducatel 
 dwelt so ardently on the physical charms of the lead 
 ing actress as to leave no time to say or be asked 
 aught regarding Philip or monsieur. Secretly amazed 
 and newly enraged, Zephire discerned Rosalie s ingenu 
 ity, but guessed only a further move to put his rival 
 supplantingly in his place. Her father s haggard look 
 remained a disquieting riddle. 
 
 When the cashier went to lunch he had under his 
 coat both his pistol and a cowhide whip. In Canal 
 Street he met Philip, but the elder Castleton was with 
 him, and most grudgingly he let them pass. Then, 
 however, he stopped and followed till they turned into 
 Chartres Street, as if bound for Ovide s shop. Resum 
 ing his own way, he perceived that he was himself shad- 
 
 183 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 owed by the bank s detective, but felt sure that this 
 was solely to avert his actual assault on Philip. 
 
 Lunching alone, he recalled with redoubled anxiety 
 the president s look. For it he must, he must, find 
 something to account! That Alphonse should so far 
 yield to his daughter as to make a public parade of 
 friendliness with the two Castletons in the face of 
 common gossip that one of them was letting himself 
 be branded, on the open street, as a coward and an 
 apostate to his race, could be only for some appalling, 
 compelling reason. It was unbelievable that the pur 
 pose should be no more than to repudiate his, Zephire s, 
 quarrel. There was something else! He began over 
 again to put the fractions of his puzzle together and 
 the first two pieces fitted ! Alphonse was short of 
 funds, and the Castletons were "long"; not a mile 
 long, yet long. Rosalie had become a negotiable 
 asset! He started up and hurried back to the bank 
 and his desk. 
 
 Meanwhile the two Durel ladies had set out from 
 home for Ovide s shop. The drawn features of mon 
 sieur were as hauntingly in their mind as in Zephire s, 
 and none the less so because they knew its meaning. 
 They had kept it out of their own faces only by a 
 feminine heroism which they called necessity, and 
 mainly for his sake. Hardly conscious of choosing, 
 they took a zig-zag route; a square s length up-town, 
 then as much toward the river, then a square up-town, 
 a square riverward, and so on; at each corner freshly 
 repelled by the surrounding forlornness and decay. 
 
 184 
 
HER WOOF ON HIS WARP 
 
 The Vieux Carre seemed to mimic their state of affairs. 
 As they went cautiously over the broken sidewalks of 
 brick, flagstones, and concrete by turn, their murmur 
 ous talk, as uneven as their steps, and now in English 
 and now in French, was as light as they could make it 
 and in bright contrast to the load on their hearts. 
 Yet it was of the grand jury. 
 
 "To take notiz ," said madame, "of those girl- 
 stealer , tha z doubtlezz all right; they got to be take 
 notiz of; but same time look ad that !" 
 
 "That" was a mountain of trash dumped from a 
 private yard into the public thoroughfare, and the 
 invitation meant not to turn and gaze but to see 
 without being seen to see the spot and all or at 
 least half, the unasphalted half of the region. "Me, 
 if I was that gran jury, firz thing I would do, I would 
 call notiz to those street . I would compel attention 
 to that. Mud, by cartload ! Paper, rag , straw, by 
 cartload !" 
 
 "Ah, but sometimes only handcart!" 
 
 "An sometime two-horse cart. Loose cobble , cart 
 load ! Tin can , broken slate , brickbat , by cartl* 
 ah!" the critic swerved from something alive at her 
 feet " mon Dieu ! even those cat they are too dirty to 
 get out of the way ! I thing the good God be thankful 
 if we abolizh firz some dirt an then some wickednezz." 
 
 The black woman chuckled. "Hunh! Y ought to 
 see some o de nigger streets." 
 
 "They are worse?" 
 
 "Law , dis is good housekeepin to some o dem. 
 185 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Momselle, is dat so, dat in some countrie evem de 
 nigger streets is clean?" She got no reply, cared for 
 none; rarely ventured deeper into politics than this 
 comforting taunt. 
 
 Philip and the judge, nearer by than they were sup 
 posed to be, and as willing as the Durels to talk most 
 of what troubled them least, found one or two extenua 
 tions for the squalor. For generations, in almost every 
 case where the Creole manner of building had given 
 way to newer sorts the newer were so cheaply, clumsily 
 frivolous that no cleanliness could ever redeem them 
 or their surroundings. 
 
 "Pity, Phil, your grand jury can t bring architec 
 tural ugliness into court." 
 
 Philip lightly rejoined that good architecture did not 
 insure clean living, physical or moral. 
 
 "Yet, the world over," insisted the judge, "wherever 
 the poor man s typical house is ugly, dirt stops and 
 stays." 
 
 "You wouldn t call them cause and effect?" 
 
 "I d call them joint effects of something unworthy 
 in the public mind." 
 
 "And then what would the public call you?" 
 
 "Oh, you mustn t expect the public to pay wages 
 every Saturday night. Young man" they had 
 reached the book-shop, and the judge laid a finger on 
 Philip s breast "mark me! A man can tell the pub 
 lic its faults successfully; but strait is the art and few 
 there be that find it." 
 
 "Suppose it s an art one doesn t want." 
 186 
 
HER WOOF ON HIS WARP 
 
 "No well-regulated citizen should be without it." 
 
 "Well, then, what s the secret of it?" 
 
 "This: Love your public at least twice as hard as 
 you scold it. But be sure you love it; don t just 
 think so." 
 
 "The way auntie thinks she loves Browning?" 
 laughed Philip as they entered the book-shop. Miss 
 Castleton, by the way, was to sail early the next morn 
 ing for the Mediterranean. 
 
 By and by Rosalie, madame, and their maid arrived 
 at the shop door. Ovide s wife stood in it. He, she 
 said, was in the rear room so busy with two gentlemen, 
 that she 
 
 "Member of the board of the bank?" 
 
 "Oh, no m, not o de boa d, no m!" 
 
 The startled callers began to draw away. 
 
 "Oh, dey won t come out fo a smart while yit; dey 
 jes gone in. You as good a right to come in an 
 wait as " 
 
 "No-no-no-no-no! We ll make some erran an 
 rit-urn." 
 
 "But, dat away you ll miss Ovide twice over; soon 
 as finish here he got to go right up to de bank." 
 
 "No-no-no !" The pair smiled down and waved off 
 all assurances. "But come, you, a few steps, while 
 still watching the shop, and we ll tell you what to tell 
 Ovide." 
 
 At a snail s pace but in hurried speech they told it: 
 
 "Those ladies at the college, they promise hands 
 off. And that s the reason they don t know that to 
 
 187 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 make trouble for Philomele right now, would make 
 trouble also for Zephire, and that would expose his 
 trouble with the bank; and that would make a run on 
 the bank, and that would bring other banks into the 
 dif-/c-ulty, and that would produce a panic; and that 
 would cause a terrible condition of those poor, both 
 white and black, and maybe that wouldn t stop all 
 over the United States, and perchance might even get 
 us into that awful Eu-ro-pean war; and that s the chief 
 cause that we d be glad if Ovide would go just a little 
 slow with that complaint till some new devel-ope-ment. 
 You understand, that s not to save ourselves no-o ! 
 and neither we don t want to defeat those ends of jus 
 tice ah, non ! But we don t want to make ten times 
 as much misery as we extinguish; you understand? 
 And you ll tell Ovide, if he knows any way to keep 
 Zephire out of that and same time not defeat those 
 ends of justice " 
 
 "Yas m," the spectacled wife interrupted, backing 
 toward the shop, "I tell him, an eh anyhow he 
 he do his bes ." She smiled kindly, yet in her tone 
 there was a hint of reservation. Euphrosine noted it 
 and stepped forward. 
 
 The spectacles halted and Euphrosine, close to them 
 and apart from the ladies, mumbled: "Sisteh, ef you 
 thinks to do young Mr. Cassamun a favor by gitt n 
 Zephire Djurel into dis mix-up you gwine to miss it as 
 wide as de Mas sippi River. Ef you wants to sarve 
 him an momselle an true love all in one lick, you go 
 do what she done tell you." 
 
 188 
 
HER WOOF ON HIS WARP 
 
 For reply the wife, ignoring her adviser, shed on 
 Rosalie a new benevolence and said: "Oh, yas m, da s 
 all right. I sees how dat kin be done. You kin res 
 easy bout dat, bofe o you; yas m." She turned for 
 the shop. 
 
 The ladies and their maid moved on down-street, 
 passed under the arcade of the Cabildo, hesitated, then 
 crossed the way and disappeared within the iron gates 
 and among the sunbathed shrubberies of Jackson 
 Square. But outward sunshine only mocked the inner 
 gloom and dismay with which they struggled, and after 
 as brief a circuit as two steeple doves might make on 
 the street pavement they went out where they had 
 come in, and recrossed the way. 
 
 In the marble floor of the cathedral, close before two 
 side altars at opposite doors of the transept, are two 
 foot-worn tablets, of which all curious visitors are 
 charged to take note. One marks the last resting- 
 place of Don Andreas Almonaster y Roxas, the other 
 is sacred to the memory of three Phillippe Marigny- 
 Mandevilles. Never mind to-day who they were. 
 There, that afternoon, knelt three worshippers, a dark 
 one on this side, two fair ones on that, who, having 
 done the best they knew for love and righteousness, 
 now turned their backs on this fearful world and cast 
 their yearnings and tremblings on a divine compassion. 
 
 Go softly, mere sight-seer. Turn back and seek 
 some remoter exit. Every heart knoweth its own 
 Come away. 
 
 180 
 
XXX 
 
 A MISTAKE IN BRANDING 
 
 AFTER his solitary lunch Zephire had been back at 
 his desk an hour or so, when he was newly startled. 
 
 Laboring to guess why the Castletons should have 
 been going together to the bookman s shop at that 
 busy time of day, and glancing now and then into the 
 bank s rear office, whom should he espy accepting a seat 
 there, a seat alone with the president, but Ovide him 
 self. For what he had come the cashier could only, 
 between business interruptions, indignantly, anxiously, 
 wonder and wonder while Ovide sat and sat. White 
 men waited outside, chafed, and went away sour. 
 
 At length Ovide departed. Zephire, in his time, 
 had seen unnumbered clients enter and leave that room 
 and had learned to divine their errands. He was, we 
 say, no craven; but now he felt consternation thump 
 with every pulse as he thought to himself: "Alphonse 
 Durel ! Have your negotiating Castletons asked for a 
 show-down ? Is it to make good for your mother and 
 daughter that you are borrowing from a nigger ? And 
 am I, then, by that show-down, found out?" 
 
 The bank closed for the day, and the president 
 "would like to see him." He went in. 
 
 "Zephire, bring me the boxes of my mother and 
 Rosalie." 
 
 180 
 
A MISTAKE IN BRANDING 
 
 Sweating, he brought them, and began a clever play 
 of searching himself for their keys. Monsieur cruelly 
 kept the play up. It was quite too much like cat and 
 mouse. " May you not have left them in your room ? " 
 
 "Yes ! I ll go and get them unless to-morrow will 
 i 
 
 "No, get them now. I can wait." 
 
 He went out stupefied, paralyzed, suffocated. He 
 might have caught hope in his cousin s readiness to 
 allow him out of sight had he not remembered the de 
 tective. At the first corner he stole a side glance back 
 and there the detective came. Oh, that anything 
 might occur, be made to occur, that could delay for a 
 night, an hour, the debacle ! 
 
 Had the Castletons a hand in it? Oh, to meet 
 Philip now! Revenge should have her perfect work! 
 And somehow, oh, somehow ! there might be salvation 
 in the encounter. A new sweat of desperation stood 
 on his brow. He did not go to his rooms. Giddy, 
 faint, as though he fled from a volcanic eruption, he 
 sought the Carondelet Street office of his partner in 
 cotton adventures. But he never reached it. 
 
 The two Castletons were in that street. They had 
 been doing a number of last things for Miss Castleton 
 and now appeared about to part. The judge looked 
 at his watch. 
 
 "Bank s closed," he said. "You ve got auntie s 
 money? Good. Phil, has Zephire made you no threat 
 of violence?" 
 
 "Why, you re as sudden as a cross-examiner, Judge." 
 191 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Never mind, I reckon I ll stay with you a bit 
 longer." 
 
 "Oh, you go on, I ll see you at dinner." Finally 
 they started in contrary directions. Half a square 
 off the judge stood a moment and then retraced his 
 steps. 
 
 In the middle of a square Philip had bought an after 
 noon paper and was just resuming his way when the 
 thing he had dreaded for days, dreaded more than he 
 knew, his crowning humiliation, a street fracas, con 
 fronted him. Zephire Durel, whip in hand uplifted 
 arrestingly, faced him on the sidewalk. In the other 
 hand was his pistol. 
 
 Philip leaped forward. The whip cut him squarely 
 across the eyes, but with both hands he wrenched the 
 pistol free, though it fired. He cast it to the ground, 
 throttled his foe, and after a short struggle, crushed 
 him against a wall. At the cut of the whip the street 
 had swarmed with men, but on the pistol s crack they 
 had leaped to cover. The detective ran up, but he 
 and the judge got entangled, and before they could 
 separate, Zephire s eyes were protruding, his face was 
 blue, legs limp, head bloody, and a rib broken by one 
 of Philip s knees. Only the masonry and his foe s grip 
 held him up. The judge and the officer tore them 
 apart, the crowd closed in. Then hats were restored, 
 the newsboy handed the pistol to the detective, and 
 taxicabs were called. 
 
 "Now, judge," Philip bitterly laughed, "what do I 
 look like?" and the crowd laughed with him. 
 
 192 
 
A MISTAKE IN BRANDING 
 
 As the two sped homeward Philip found the whip In 
 his grasp, and a bullet-hole in his sleeve. 
 
 "Phil, there s one small comfort; the crowd approves. 
 . . . Your classes have been thin of late, haven t 
 they?" 
 
 "Decidedly thin." 
 
 "They ll be crowded to-morrow." 
 
 Meanwhile the detective had telephoned M. Durel 
 of the incident and was taking Zephire to his rooms 
 and bed. 
 
 Monsieur stood at Zephire s bedside, alone. In the 
 front room, the room of the antique bookcase, etc., he 
 had talked with the detective, and had sent him on an 
 errand. The day s fatigue had sharpened his haggard 
 look, but its refinement also was intensified. Stand 
 ing, he laid his delicate hand on one of Zephire s with 
 a slow, gentle stroke. 
 
 Down in the cashier s husky throat something in 
 articulate rattled. The elder cousin, rather to himself 
 than to the prostrate man, smiled. "You need not 
 pretend," he said, "to be unable to talk. I have 
 nothing to ask you." 
 
 "Ignace," whispered Zephire, meaning Zoppi, the 
 detective; "don t let Ignace bring a doctor." 
 
 "My dear fellow, fear not. For what doctor would 
 come? If I were a doctor, Zephire, I would no more 
 attend you than I would a dog with the mange. What 
 you want is a surgeon, to open a vein. Don t try to 
 get well; you would go straight to the penitentiary. 
 Whereas dying you avoid discharge as a cashier, and 
 
 193 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 leave the name of Durel still, on its public side, unde- 
 filed. The devotion of our former slave, Ovide, has 
 saved that name." 
 
 Zephire flashed. "You have borrowed," he whis 
 pered, "from that nigger?" 
 
 "I have borrowed from that nigger. Your help 
 without his would not be enough, nor his without 
 yours, Ignace has gone for Pascal" [the bank s no 
 tary]. "You will make over to " 
 
 Zephire whispered again. "I will leave all I have to 
 Rosalie if you will swear not to give her to that 
 hound." 
 
 The answering smile was benign. "When I prom 
 ise, it will be to myself, not to you, and above all not 
 that. You will make over to the bank whatever you 
 legally possess. It will lighten your infamy. Ignace 
 and Pascal will attend to that; I go to call another 
 meeting of our board, to consider the election of a 
 new cashier, the old one being at the point of death. 
 I lay this revolver on your beautiful mantelpiece. It 
 still has several loads. Next time I see you I trust it 
 will have at least one less. You know your old rule 
 of business, a very good one, eh? Do it now. " 
 
 194 
 
XXXI 
 TO DIE OR TO FLY? 
 
 ZEPHIRE knew his hurts were trivial. Keen pains 
 attended certain movements and on one side he could 
 not lie; but a physician on the sidewalk had said that 
 the broken rib was back in place and that after a 
 night s rest, with an arm in a sling, he could return to 
 work. So now he began to plan, not for work, but 
 flight. Ignace, he pondered, was bringing Pascal to 
 enable him to make assignment of his assets to the 
 bank. Very well, after a show of revolt he would 
 make it; given under duress, it would be worthless and 
 his cousin knew that fact so well that to ignore it 
 meant that he, Zephire, would for reward be allowed 
 to leave the country, and his case be hushed up by 
 the board. Compounding a felony is risky, but, " Skin 
 for skin, what will a board not do for its bank?" 
 In the way lay but one obstacle Castleton, grand 
 juryman. If Zephire knew that sort of reptile, it was 
 just the sort to rise squarely between him and the 
 bank and drive him into open court. 
 
 A step creaked on the stair, a knuckle tapped the 
 door, and when he called "Entrez" there entered 
 neither Ignace nor Pascal, but Judge Castleton. He 
 came and stood by the bed. 
 
 195 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Zephire lay on his back. The two looked long at 
 each other. Then the judge remarked: "My grandson 
 has no idea that I am here." 
 
 The cashier loathingly closed his eyelids. 
 
 "I am here in the common interest; yours, ours, all." 
 
 "All, humph! I know where you think you come 
 
 in." 
 
 "Yes? Then we needn t mention names." 
 
 "She ll have not a sou left. And neither Rosalie." 
 
 "That s all right." 
 
 "What you want with me?" 
 
 "To put at your disposal, free, my professional ad 
 vice. Accepting it, you can probably keep this thing 
 quiet right where it is." 
 
 Zephire was suddenly fierce. "Damn the quiet! 
 Alphonse Durel he sent you here, eh?" 
 
 "No, he merely knows I m here. I thought you 
 might consider it wise to transfer whatever you have 
 other than travelling expenses to the bank." 
 
 The cashier smiled savagely. " Damn the bank, too. 
 All I ve got egceb humph ! on what condition ? " 
 
 "Without condition, and also free from duress." 
 
 "That is your advice?" 
 
 "You haven t asked my advice." 
 
 "Well, I h-ask it." 
 
 "Then I advise it." 
 
 "An" if Irif-use?" 
 
 "You know as well as I, maybe better." 
 
 "Yes. Jail, criminal court, striped suit, eh?" 
 
 "That s your own answer, not mine." 
 196 
 
TO DIE OR TO FLY? 
 
 " Any ow they cann hang me. I will make no will ! " 
 
 "How about a sale? For one dollar and other 
 valuable considerations, the receipt of which is 
 hereby ?" 
 
 Zephire motioned assent. He knew that if he did 
 this, the quicker he did it the better. At another 
 beckon his visitor pushed a button and the room filled 
 with light. The judge found writing materials and in 
 a short time the whole matter was accomplished. 
 
 "No, leave the light," said the cashier as the judge 
 rose to go. Once more alone, he slowly gathered re 
 solve. 
 
 By and by he slipped from the bed, crossed the 
 room, returned with the pistol and lay down again. 
 He had long regarded suicide as a matter of course 
 should he be found out. "Pop!" and without time 
 for one pang of agony the penitentiary, with all its 
 horrors, its long, long death by torture, would be 
 checkmated. "Brave fellow!" the clubs would say, 
 "his faults were on the side of his affections. No 
 hypocrite he, and how generous a spender! Had no 
 church superstitions; will sleep without dreams for 
 
 ever." 
 
 But here, now, an open door barred the way this 
 unlooked-for liberty to fly and live, leaving the secret 
 of his crime an abiding secret behind him. There were 
 havens far roomier and far more interesting than the 
 grave, and his fancy heard a more agreeable encomium 
 in the clubs: "Was it a shortage in the bank? No, 
 the bank s all right; but his splendid pride could not 
 
 197 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 endure the humiliation of that street fiasco. Louisiana 
 was too tame for Zephire." 
 
 And so his purpose hung, while suspense forced in 
 upon him the thought, what a faint twitch of one 
 finger-joint there was between tragedy and farce, the 
 terrible and the contemptible. To be or not to be? 
 He had the pluck for either choice. Through several 
 minutes he lay motionless save for an abstracted toy 
 ing with the weapon where it rested in his palm, against 
 his thigh. Now, however, with eyes closed, he gradu 
 ally brought it to his temple and held it there, none 
 the less in earnest because his hand was without a 
 tremor. Yet the trigger was untouched, and presently 
 with eyes still closed he let the deadly thing creep back 
 to his side. Soon, however, it returned, this time with 
 alacrity, a finger on the trigger. For another footfall 
 was on the stair, heavy, masculine, imperative. Had 
 he been tricked, and by a Castle ton? And was this 
 his last chance to die unshackled and by choice ? His 
 lips and eyes closed tighter; no minion of the law 
 should cross his floor and find him alive. There came 
 a touch on the knob, and a familiar voice spoke his 
 name. He slipped the pistol out of sight, still holding 
 it, and said: "Come in." 
 
 Swift entered, his partner on the cotton exchange. 
 He dropped a word of pity as he drew near, but then 
 smiled a frank vexation. "Zephire, what did you do 
 it for? You ve made a dainty mess, haven t you? 
 Never mind, here s a proposition that will lighten my 
 load anyhow." 
 
 198 
 
TO DIE OR TO FLY? 
 
 On the pillow Zephire s head rocked in weary dis 
 sent. 
 
 " Now, none of that ! " snapped his friend. " I m not 
 asking you what you d like, I m telling you what 
 you ve got to do and do quick. You ve got to sell out 
 your partnership to me under date of a month ago. 
 I m a law-abiding citizen, running my business for 
 dollars and cents and as undamnably as I " He 
 ceased and sank to the bed, staring, as Zephire gasped: 
 
 "All gone. Gone! The bank- 
 Swift sprang up. "You you ve been swindling 
 your own bank ? Hell ! Why didn t I see that long ago 
 when I first smelt it? Now your board s got on to 
 it and you ve bought their silence at my expense! 
 Well, we ll see ! They ve got to cough up my share of 
 you or there won t be any silence !" 
 
 "Wait !" cried Zephire, rising painfully on an elbow. 
 "Stop!" But the door slammed and he was once 
 more alone. 
 
 Again he pondered. All the mental torture that 
 his partner s rude visit had in degree lifted, fell on 
 him again like a redoubled hurricane. Once more he 
 set the pistol to his temple, but held it there moment 
 after moment while a new realization dawned on him 
 that his nerve was gone. Then head, hand, and 
 weapon dropped to the pillow, his face turned into it 
 and he writhed and wept like a girl. Now he listened. 
 The procession of callers was not quite ended. 
 
 A soft knock, a woman s, reached his ear. He lis 
 tened on. It came again but he made no sound. The 
 
 199 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 visitor tiptoed in. His face was to the wall. With a 
 knee on the bed she leaned over him and spoke a favo 
 rite Creole pet name: "Bibi !" 
 
 Espying the pistol, still in his clutch, she warily 
 fingered it. "Bibi, it is your Philomele. I ve come to 
 take care of you, dear boy; to take you away out of 
 all this trouble." She touched the pistol, but his 
 grasp on it tightened. "I know, Bibi, what has hap 
 pened. I was in St. Charles Street, at the ticket- 
 office, when you and Zoppi went by in the taxi. " She 
 softly worked a better hold on the pistol. "That 
 Landry wench had warned me of the grand jury and 
 told me to leave town. So I spoke for two reserva 
 tions for Mexico City, to-morrow morning. Wasn t 
 that right, Bibi?" 
 
 The head in the pillow nodded. WTiile she spoke 
 she had gradually pried the weapon from his hold; now 
 she concealed it in her bosom. 
 
 200 
 
XXXII . 
 BILOXI AGAIN 
 
 IN his Biloxi cottage M. Durel lay sick in body and 
 soul. 
 
 Another president filled his chair at the bank. 
 Monsieur could not let his eyes close without seeing 
 him there, except when, instead, he saw his Esplanade 
 Avenue home posted: "For Sale." His physician 
 had urged a change to some far-away scene, quiet with 
 out Biloxi s dulness or the New Orleans newspapers. 
 Physicians, however, rarely furnish funds. 
 
 On the third day of his stay, though a mist was 
 driving and cold whitecaps were on the water, 
 madame persuaded him to leave his bed for a window 
 looking seaward. So far so good ! And when Sunday 
 came, blue and balmy, he was further lured by Rosalie 
 to walk with her under the live-oaks and cedars on 
 the shore bluffs, and by and by on the white beach, 
 under their fringe of dwarfed pines. There, all at 
 once, in a lonely spot between the highway and the 
 water, he came to a most unwilling halt between two 
 men the two Castletons. 
 
 With much dignity the couples exchanged greetings, 
 the judge promptly explaining that their errand was 
 to monsieur only, and a business matter which they 
 hoped would prove welcome. They begged that the 
 
 201 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 walk be not interrupted, and when so invited turned 
 and walked with the Creole pair, Rosalie and the judge 
 leading. 
 
 "And your daughter s gone?" asked the girl. 
 
 "Yes, off for the Mediterranean and the great East." 
 The judge went into particulars. 
 
 Rosalie made a gesture of despair. "I couldn t do 
 that. I would be bound to stop some place in that 
 war ! Miss Castleton must be of a great imagination 
 and a great benevolence to remember those heathen 
 in Asia while that suffering in Europe is so terrible!" 
 
 "Ah," said the judge, "that s what Philip and I 
 were saying, or Philip saying to me, not an hour 
 ago; that his aunt has just the kind of imagina 
 tion and benevolence to discriminate, habitually and 
 on principle, in favor of the commonly overlooked." 
 He ran on about her. By some delicate indirection he 
 made it plain that she had left the city without hearing 
 the things it would have so pained her to hear. She 
 had not seen the morning paper as she was embarking, 
 and even if she had, the paper had treated the bank 
 gently and the street scuffle without names. 
 
 "You will not mind," he interrupted himself to 
 ask, "my harping a bit on my own folks, will you, 
 when I can say pleasant things?" 
 
 "Ah ! If pleasant to you, to me like-wise." 
 
 "I was going to speak of Philip." 
 
 "Yes? Well? Even Zephire, I would be glad to 
 hear about if pleasant to you. He s left the city, I 
 believe, Zephire, eh? That s a fortunate coincidence 
 
 202 
 
BILOXI AGAIN 
 
 for every -body. Well, even any result from that diffi 
 culty in the street, I would be glad to hear about/ 
 
 "It s pleasant to tell. It s altered public senti 
 ment toward Phil greatly. He can t walk half a 
 square without having to accept some jovial, unex 
 plained handshake." 
 
 " Because he was willing to fight!" prompted the 
 girl. 
 
 "Yes, or rather just as good for a fight as if willing. 
 As to his unlucky theories, you know " 
 
 "Yes, I know. Well, about those?" 
 
 "Why, they seem almost forgotten. Nearly any 
 theory, mademoiselle, will be tolerated in a brave 
 man." 
 
 "Yes! Ah, yes! If he takes care not to practise 
 them!" 
 
 "Oh," said the judge, "preaching or practising, any 
 public would rather have us dauntless and ever so 
 wrong than craven and ever so right." 
 
 " Truly ! And we women we are just like that pub- 
 He!" 
 
 Rosalie quickened her step; a conversation going on 
 behind her, fitfully overheard, began to be embarrass 
 ing. Monsieur had opened it with a few fervid sen 
 tences telling how, while he was still in his official seat 
 with his resignation before the board, Zephire s Caron- 
 delet Street partner, being let in, had demanded an 
 instant arrangement with them on his own terms and 
 had been firmly refused it, he, Alphonse Durel, being 
 the first to say no. So defied, the man, monsieur had 
 
 203 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 gone on to tell, had, in revenge, poured out into the 
 street the secret of Zephire s crime and flight, and all 
 was over ! 
 
 "No, not all," Philip put in. "It s just as widely 
 known and told that you assumed far more blame 
 than was fairly yours; that you ve covered your 
 cashier s shortages dollar for dollar; that you d still be 
 in your chair had it not been coveted by one of your 
 board, who, after all, did not get it; and that you 
 retire newly honored, a poor man." 
 
 " Poorer, sir, than a priest, an mother an daughter 
 the same ! Be please to notiz that !" 
 
 Philip reddened: "We re not overlooking that, sir. 
 Now let me state our errand which it didn t seem 
 good to do by letter. We, the judge and I, with others, 
 have mentioned you for the presidency of that new 
 bank, you know around in yes. It s small, but it s 
 solid, and with the present business outlook and with 
 you at its head " 
 
 Monsieur was giving his head a steady negative 
 shake while in turn he grew red. "An will you per- 
 mid me to inquire who author-ize you to mention me 
 for that?" 
 
 "Mr. Durel, the conditions of the case authorized 
 us." 
 
 The banker lifted his brows, but the young man 
 pressed on: 
 
 "You know that this whole exposure has come di 
 rectly out of our contact with you and your family. 
 It would be as unworthy for us to shut our eyes to 
 
 204 
 
BILOXI AGAIN 
 
 that fact as if however blamelessly to either side, you 
 in your motor-car and we in ours 
 
 Monsieur s elbows went out with palms spread. 
 "We are no longer of the motor-car aristocracy." 
 
 " You in yours and we in ours/ Philip untactfully 
 persisted, "we had crashed into you and wrecked you." 
 
 As briefly as the sound could be uttered monsieur 
 said, "Ah!" Without loss of dignity his whole man 
 ner implied that the excuse was as offensive as the 
 trespass. Then he added the four short words to 
 which he had intended to limit his reply: "Sir, I muz 
 die-line!" But as they came they started a quiver of 
 sick nerves that impelled him to speak on: "Those 
 condition of the caze they are likewise my egscuze; 
 biccause they have projuze such ril-ation bitwin uz 
 that there cannot come to me now any favor from one 
 of yo name without a price which I cannod allow my- 
 seff even to spick ab-out." 
 
 There it was that Rosalie and the judge turned aside 
 and let the other two pass on. 
 
 The cut of Zephire s whip across his eyes had not 
 stung Philip worse than did these words. When one 
 must restrain his rage, however, one restrains it. The 
 high-tempered youth even smiled bitterly as he 
 said: 
 
 "You mean there s a * string to that proposition?" 
 
 "My dear sir" they halted "you cann priv-end 
 that." 
 
 "Beg pardon, I can, sir. My my sentiment I 
 admit. It is immovable, invincible. But that I 
 
 205 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 should string it to an offer of rescue no, sir, hear me 
 through, if you please if I don t resent such a thought 
 it s because resentment is not my business here to-day. 
 I m here staring the fact in the face, that this offer 
 assures you the retention of your family undivided in 
 one home, which, all things considered, I can never 
 again let myself enter. On the other hand, should 
 you reject this offer, you know, and I know, that your 
 daughter will probably seek a livelihood away from 
 home. Now, Mr. Durel, as sure as she does I shall 
 court her as ardently and as perseveringly as she will 
 allow." 
 
 The parent attempted a gay gesture. "An tha z 
 all?" 
 
 "Not quite. I may be Quixotic, sir, or otherwise 
 self -deluded; lovers often are; but we he yonder and 
 I proffer you, all three, these amends for coming into 
 your lives so disastrously; it s the best we can do." 
 
 "An you don call that disaztrouz to you?" 
 
 "No, sir, I m profited! I shan t perish for losing 
 your daughter; I can do her better honor. Come what 
 may, fail what may, I ll see to it that I m better profited 
 to have loved her to love her yet and go unmated all 
 my days than not to have known and loved her. 
 I m done!" 
 
 "Mr. Cazzleton " 
 
 "No, there s one thing yet. We re empowered to 
 tell you that if you want time before replying, for re 
 flection, or inquiry, or rest, you can have it." 
 
 Monsieur said nothing. They walked again, but 
 206 
 
BILOXI AGAIN 
 
 back toward the cottage. Rosalie and the judge fol 
 lowed. Philip could hear their comments on the sur 
 rounding scene: That the sands, the pines, were still 
 odorous from their long sun-bath; that the waters 
 licked the beach as a sated monster might lick one s 
 hand; that out seaward they danced in all the colors 
 of the sun s decline, and that the great sand-keys far 
 beyond, though shining like silver, could be seen only 
 when the eye sought them out. 
 
 The backward listener could hear Rosalie best. 
 Possibly she willed it so, though the judge and the 
 view appeared to occupy her whole mind. " Nature !" 
 she said. "One cause that I love nature is that she 
 never cares what you feel like and then you brace 
 up!" 
 
 Her father heard; he looked around on nature. 
 
 "You may take a month," said Philip, but still won 
 no reply. 
 
 After another minute the banker produced a letter, 
 as if to speak of it, but a bend in the path brought into 
 near view the pretty red-roofed pavilion at the shore 
 end of his wrecked boardwalk. Some one sitting there 
 rose. 
 
 "Stay, we are coming!" called monsieur. It was 
 his mother. The five sat down together. He handed 
 her the letter. "Tha z what I receive laz night, but" 
 he smiled "I had not then the nerve to show it 
 you." 
 
 She read it silently. At the first line tears filled her 
 * eyes, but she dried them, bending stubbornly to the 
 
 207 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 page. Fresh ones sprang, but she read on as she wiped 
 them away. When the Castletons would have risen 
 she smiled through the drops and put out an impera 
 tive hand. "No ! rim-ain !" 
 
 The letter was short; she must have read it a third 
 time before she folded it, saying through more tears: 
 
 "Well avter all tha z good/ 
 
 Rosalie reached for it. She read it standing, her 
 back to the company, while her father told the Cas 
 tletons its purport. The home, the Esplanade home, 
 was gone, was sold. But it was well sold, so well that 
 he could now seek that far-off quiet the doctors had 
 urged on him. 
 
 "I shall go at ones/* 
 
 "Not alone!" said the daughter. 
 
 "No, you with me; or, I will say, me with you." 
 To the judge he tapped his breast. "For me any 
 plaze will do; but for Rosalie, dit-ermin on a carreer, 
 an Paris in thad war, the only Mecca tha z New 
 York, eh?" 
 
 "0-o-oh!" cried madame, "going ad New York for 
 quiet!" 
 
 "My dear mother, if there is in thad worP a city 
 capable to make as much uzeless noise as New Orleans 
 I promiz you to kip away from there !" 
 
 "Ah-h-h! an thad climade! in Febwerie!" 
 
 "My dear, tis not for me there in Febwerie I shud 
 der; tis for Rosalie in that all-the-year-roun zero 
 of the soul in thad furnaze-roazted civilization. My 
 only hope tis thad the firz snuff of that will sen her 
 
 208 
 
BILOXI AGAIN 
 
 back to Louisiana !" This last remark was to the 
 Castletons. 
 
 "Amen," murmured Philip. 
 
 "Gen lemen," said monsieur, "I will thing abboud 
 that offer an telegraph you egscuse me a mo 
 ment " 
 
 A servant from the cottage hovered near; the master 
 stepped away to confer with him. As he returned he 
 noted a small fact, a mere refinement of good faith, 
 which awoke his magnanimity. In this moment of 
 parting for weeks, months, it might be for years 
 the lover of Rosalie stood conversing not with her but 
 with madame, the judge with Rosalie. They had al 
 ready begun to offer their adieus. 
 
 "Ah!" said the son and father, "but come a mo 
 ment in, for a glazz of wine !" and madame echoed the 
 invitation. 
 
 The Castletons were full of thanks, but " feared there 
 was hardly time" and went away down the beach 
 road, toward the nearest white post of the coast trolley- 
 cars. 
 
 209 
 
XXXIII 
 THE SIEGE OF NEW YORK 
 
 "A CAREER! Oh! H mm!" 
 
 "Yes, in New York to fine how to enter the carreer 
 of a stage-singer. Naturally my daughter she firz 
 muz 1 fine the entranze, eh?" 
 
 "Not at all. She must first be so fit that the en 
 trance will come running to find her. If she s not, 
 then her problem isn t how to find the entrance; there 
 ain t any; it s to break in, suffragette fashion, anyhow, 
 anywhere. What fame has the young lady at home, 
 in Frisco?" 
 
 "In New Orleans, sir! Well, her wide sozial cir- 
 cle " 
 
 "Doesn t count for a cent. What else?" 
 
 "Why, eh" monsieur told of his daughter s choir 
 services. 
 
 "That doesn t count half a cent. Can you sit down, 
 Miss, at that piano, and sing me a song, now ? Oh ! 
 Fatigued." 
 
 (She would as soon have sung in the street, for cop 
 pers.) 
 
 "Fatigued h mm! How hard can you work? Do 
 you know that out of whole hundreds who, like you, 
 
 210 
 
THE SIEGE OF NEW YORK 
 
 come here with marvellous voices and beauty, only 
 one or two ever pull through the grinding toil of the 
 thing? Have you ever given as much as one recital, 
 yourself?" 
 
 One couldn t swallow everything: 
 
 "Sir, my daughter has never been under thad ne- 
 cezzity!" 
 
 The pair met an amazing amount of a certain kind 
 ness, but also a certain amount of amazing rudeness. 
 
 "How does the young lady stand in your own news 
 papers?" 
 
 " Sir, a young lady of Creole f amilie, she don t stan 
 in those newspaper ah! unlezz maybe she stoop so 
 far to those corrup pragtises of social modernity thad 
 they publizh her photo-graph queen of carnival ball." 
 
 "Oh! Carnival! I d like to see that just once. 
 But you people why don t you cut out that paste 
 board antique?" 
 
 "Cutout? Pasteboard? Cut out thad carnival ?" 
 
 "Certainly ! Break your toys and grow up ! Why, 
 that papier-mache splendor is a hundred years behind 
 the times. It advertises you as a city to see once over 
 night instead of a city to live in. At work or at play, 
 a great city ought to be legitimate drama as far as it 
 can be; ought to be its own great self. See? Now, 
 don t take offense where none is meant. First rule of 
 politeness, ain t it?" 
 
 "In thiz country, yes if nod the only! My dear 
 sir, if thad whole polide country want to come at our 
 city a night or day an go away forever, they can 
 
 211 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 come, they can go; but we, papier-mache an all, we ll 
 live there as we like, the most incomparable city in 
 Ammerica!" 
 
 "H rnm, without a doubt! Well, young lady, I 
 don t see anything for you. A stage-singer ! How 
 old are you?" 
 
 The father sprang to his feet speechless, but the fel 
 low went on poking things into pigeonholes while say 
 ing: "Oh, she needn t tell. Patti was a public singer 
 here at seven. Ellen Terry was acting in London at 
 eight. That makes you rather tardy, don t it ? Now. 
 if you wanted a job I d say let those people whose yacht 
 you were on last year have you sing in their drawing- 
 rooms, say for the Belgian sufferers or something. 
 There s an inch that may get you an ell, though you ve 
 come at the wrong end of the season." 
 
 The career-seekers took the suggestion under advise 
 ment, but went on seeking the golden spoon. " Where 
 there s a will there s a way," insisted the daughter, but 
 unluckily the father s will was the other way. They 
 found women in careers of one sort and another, but 
 every such woman seemed to have broken in or climbed 
 over or crept under. "You can do neither, Rose, your 
 gifts forbid!" 
 
 Some of the lucky ones were young and handsome, 
 many were Southerners; yet with all their breaking in, 
 climbing, or creeping, luck had never come by assault, 
 only by siege, often years of siege; and none could tell 
 how you do it. They could only assure the fair Creole 
 that she couldn t do her sort of thing their way. 
 
 212 
 
THE SIEGE OF NEW YORK 
 
 "Thank God, no!" said monsieur after each inter 
 view. A career involved ah, what not ! Unwoman- 
 liness? Oh, no! Yet both father and daughter saw 
 that from nine out of ten of the lucky ones there was 
 gone as an early instalment of the career s price a 
 bloom which had not yet begun to leave her grand 
 mother. 
 
 That beloved lady ! That sweet wonder of enduring 
 youth! Her daily letters to Rosalie were from the 
 humble, not to say pinched, dwelling of an up-town 
 Ducatel couple, bowed parents of the bank-teller who, 
 on Zephire s flight, had been allowed, by bank and 
 grand jury alike, to drop out of employment into obliv 
 ion. She wrote of days made strenuous, and thereby 
 relieved of all loneliness, through the pursuit of a 
 scheme hit upon entirely since being left to herself 
 hit upon not by herself, but laid before her by Ovide 
 through his wife and his sister-in-law Euphrosine. 
 
 On leaving for New York monsieur had given ma- 
 dame carte blanche to carry out, under any modifica 
 tions acceptable to her and the bank, an agreement 
 with it by which the contents of their home were to be 
 sold at auction to realize to the bank the appraisement 
 set on them in his statement of his assets. But hardly 
 had he and Rosalie reached their Mecca when the proj 
 ect which madame knew no better than to call Ovide s 
 was brought to her, showing such an alluring radiance 
 on each and all of so many sides a Durel side, a bank 
 side, a Ducatel, a grand jury, and an Ovide side, if not 
 others that she had got it fairly under way in one 
 
 213 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 forenoon. And here is how it had come into being 
 and what it had come to be: 
 
 In his parental home the well-chastened bank-teller, 
 Ducatel, lay as he had fallen, to speak in figures, his 
 spirit too broken to stir a wing, until Mme. Durel, with 
 that feminine power which lifts so many thousands of 
 the male kind by a word and bids them rise and walk, 
 bade him go "ad the fo eman of thad gran jury; tha z 
 a Mr. eh " She tapped her brow in sweet pretense 
 until the teller supplied the name 
 
 "Yes! Cazzleton; an tell him if his gran jury let 
 you al-lone you fine some honez work an rip-ort to 
 him to them every sigs week or so oftten as they 
 want!" 
 
 "Judge," said Philip that evening, "DucatePs been 
 to see me." He stated the teller s proposition. "I 
 told him I d submit it to all concerned; judge, district 
 attorney, jury, bank; that it was no light matter to 
 ask the law s administrators to be extra-legal, but that 
 I believed in it and had been thinking of it myself from 
 day to day." 
 
 "I don t doubt you could have said night and day." 
 
 Philip s only reply was to stare absently, until he re 
 sumed: "I told him his case would be far stronger if 
 he could name some work in which he could at once 
 begin." 
 
 "He couldn t, I suppose." 
 
 "No-o-o ! No ! But when I went to see Ovide 
 Landry I gave him a plan to propose in his own 
 
 214 
 
THE SIEGE OF NEW YORK 
 
 name, keeping us out of sight as yes as before." 
 ("Before" signified that private transaction which on 
 the day of Zephire s downfall had taken these two to 
 Ovide s rear room and had kept Ovide so long in the 
 bank president s office.) 
 
 The plan, as told to the smiling judge and as sub 
 mitted next morning to madame by Ovide s wife and 
 sister-in-law, was to make the teller a dealer in an 
 tiques. In the old rue Royale, near enough to the 
 Chartres Street bookman s place for his supervision, a 
 shop would be rented, stocked with the furniture, 
 books, china, and whatever rich belongings of the 
 Durel home and Zephire s rooms were to have gone to 
 auction, and the teller put in charge. For this he was 
 connoisseur enough to qualify; it was through his taste 
 for books, arts, and crafts that he had been drawn into 
 his entanglement with his absconded kinsman. 
 
 Wherefore, light-heartedly wrote madame to her dear 
 far-aways, the only auction engaging her activities was 
 bridge, to which their absence had driven her ! Small 
 evening card-parties frequently rounded off the busy 
 days and made them, but for the absence of her pil 
 grims, as happy as any she had ever known. This 
 Rosalie understood better than her father, through a 
 lengthy postscript which she instinctively kept unread 
 to him had he not problems enough already? and 
 which told of an unexpected meeting, at one of these 
 dissipations, with Judge Castleton. She chanced to 
 cut him as bridge partner and later had permitted him 
 to walk home with her. Thi? carefully humorous pas- 
 
 215 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 sage Rosalie read locked in her hotel room, where tears 
 could flow without shame and themselves take part 
 in the reading and rereading. Where also, without 
 the weariness of drying her eyes, she could write long 
 answers which answered everything without once men 
 tioning a Castleton. Oh, the bitter-sweetness of com 
 muning, though with half a continent between, with 
 one who knew all about love a girl s love even yet. 
 Even yet ! 
 
XXXIV 
 SIEGE RAISED 
 
 THE southbound letters were, of course, much more 
 than bare replies. Their writer told of the drawn face 
 her father betrayed when alone with her, and of his 
 disappointment in hopes that some one of these New 
 York financiers whom he had long known by corre 
 spondence, their yachting acquaintance of the previous 
 summer, for instance, might on closer contact offer him 
 some New Orleans alliance, some branch work there, 
 better than the presidency of Philip Castleton s infant 
 bank. On this disappointment, she wrote, he was so 
 kind as to lay all the blame of his unrest, but that she 
 knew well it was her own case, from whatever side re 
 garded, that mainly racked him. 
 
 However, neither letters home nor from home, nor 
 career-seeking, nor angling for financiers, nor the sights 
 of the great city quite used up the exiles time. They 
 received much social attention. To a choice circle 
 they were, Rosalie playfully wrote, "a new game." 
 Hostesses who could not secure them for dinner or 
 lunch begged them to breakfast. If a social career 
 could have satisfied them, there it waited with double 
 doors wide open. What flattered monsieur much was 
 the company, not of men whose wives pearls and dia 
 monds might have bought battleships, but of men of 
 
 217 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 the sciences and arts, and men of weight in world poli 
 tics, who, in spite of his best manoeuvring, and with a 
 courtesy satisfactory even to a Creole, drew more out 
 of him than he could from them. If anything flattered 
 him more it was the way every one doted on Rosalie s 
 songs French, Italian, English, and even Scotch. 
 Her Scotch was "such a fetching Creole Scotch/ he 
 overheard. 
 
 "And now," the ladies besought her, "won t you 
 sing, as you did last evening before the gentlemen 
 came in, 
 
 What s this dull town to me ?" 
 
 No, she would rather not. The gentlemen had come 
 in, this tune, and she knew that that song cut her father 
 to the heart. As for herself it would have been rapture 
 to sing it; the nightingale will sing for grief, for love- 
 grief. It was blind chance, and to the father as ugly 
 as blind, that once, while she was still being lauded for 
 an Italian love-rhapsody, a university professor asked 
 him: "Do you know, down there in Tulane, that re 
 markable young history man, Castleton, Philip Cas- 
 tleton?" 
 
 "If I know him, yes; though not as rim-arkable. 
 An you?" 
 
 "I know him only by his writings, but his papers 
 on the national bearing of your Southern problem are 
 the most lucid, high-minded 
 
 The Creole lifted a hand. " An wrong-headed . My 
 dear sir, thad young man know no more w at he s 
 
 218 
 
SIEGE RAISED 
 
 talking ab-out than those anti-vaccinationist . Yes, 
 my daughter" for Rosalie had heard "we muz go." 
 
 "Well," retorted the professor, and she heard again, 
 "you won t have him long; Harvard s calling him." 
 
 Next morning the pair found each other very, very 
 weary. "Laz night," said monsieur, "I heard thad 
 clock strike every hour." 
 
 Rosalie s reply itself struck an hour. "Well," she 
 said, "as for me, I m ready to go home." 
 
 "Bud the home," he demurred, "is gone." 
 
 "We ll make another, papa. Twill be small, but 
 likewise is the humming-bird s. And I ll make singing 
 my trade; I ll sing by the job." 
 
 He stood dumb, meeting her uplifted smile with a 
 stare of anguish, then sank into a seat and let his face 
 down into his hands. The daughter knelt and laid 
 her head on his. By and by, before either had stirred, 
 she asked: 
 
 "You ll arrange that to-day, cher papa?" 
 
 "Yes. Yes, my Rose." 
 
 She longed to be off at once, but they were engaged 
 to dine, and at dinner, bang ! they met Murray again, 
 returning from California to Britain. He clung to 
 them through the evening, escorted them to their 
 hotel, and talked on with them there. He had come 
 east by the Southern Pacific route, and in New Orleans 
 had once more seen the Castletons. Philip he de 
 scribed as "for a man who calls himself well" in 
 very poor condition. He gave no hint that Ovide had 
 told him Philip s love-story. He did confess that 
 
 219 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 through the bookman he knew all the Durels misfor 
 tunes. The antique-shop, he said, was doing a " rrrat- 
 tling business/ Now he rejoiced to be told that the 
 headship of the small bank was accepted. Yet as he 
 was going he begged : 
 
 "Don t hurry back! Man, you re tired out! Get 
 rested!" 
 
 Monsieur said it was for Rosalie he was going, and 
 she said that "New York" made him only "the more 
 tired." 
 
 "I have it!" cried the Scot in the joy of a sudden 
 deep, intermeddling design. " Come with me, to-mor 
 row, to the rrestfulest spot this side the Atlantic. A 
 mere ferry trip, two days, and you re in the Bermudas, 
 a fountain of youth for a tired head or hearrt !" 
 
 The Durels, silently dismayed at the extra outlay, 
 argued that New Orleans was by this time compara 
 tively quiet; both the racing season and the carnival 
 were passed 
 
 "Yes," said the Scot, "just over as I came through. 
 But be the time o year this or that, for you there s 
 your old ruts to jolt across, or, worse, to drrop into !" 
 
 Monsieur shifted ground and mentioned German 
 cruisers. 
 
 "Hoh ! Have you seen any wolves in Fifth Avenue 
 lately?" 
 
 The pair might have said yes, but Rosalie merely 
 remarked that their tickets south were already bought. 
 
 "You can exchange them. I ll do it for you!" 
 With two against one the debate was arduous. The 
 
 220 
 
SIEGE RAISED 
 
 Scot drew monsieur to the sidewalk. "Now, I mean 
 this!" he there insisted, though even for himself he 
 had never meant it until he re-encountered them. 
 But now he was bent on doing this good turn to a 
 whole cluster of jolly good folk; a turn that, above all, 
 might work the lifelong joy of that fairest thing in the 
 world if his crippled heart spoke true a pair of true 
 lovers. It hurt to have to go to his hotel with the 
 question left open; but hardly had he reached his room 
 when his telephone rang. 
 
 "Yes . . . You ll go? ... Mademoi good for 
 her!" 
 
 He telegraphed a night letter to Philip. "Come, 
 student of knotty questions, spend a week of sea 
 change in the handiest spot this side of any ocean, in 
 which to see how my people bear the white man s bur 
 den." He must sail next day, he said, but a steamer 
 followed every few days, and Philip would find him 
 waiting on the dock at Hamilton when the lighter 
 steamed up the harbor. 
 
 As Philip, in New Orleans at breakfast, read this 
 message to the judge, the Scot on his starboard deck 
 joined the Durels to point out Sandy Hook. "Ye 
 noted with prride that Frenchman s gift, Liberty En 
 lightening the Wurruld? Egad! That s what lib 
 erty s for. It s the wurruld s fore wheel. And the 
 hind wheel is like unto it, but bigger, for the hind 
 wheel is Love." 
 
XXXV 
 ENCHANTED ISLE 
 
 AT sea the Creole banker found Murray burden 
 enough for any white man. 
 
 The Scot was giddied by an item of the Durels 
 trouble which he knew better than they. On his way 
 through New Orleans, in a talk with Ovide, he had 
 learned more than he ever could have drawn from 
 either Castle ton; more, in fact, than Ovide willingly 
 would have betrayed. For in the midst of the story 
 of how Zephire s shortages had come to light, and of 
 kow M. Durel had made them good chiefly by large 
 borrowings, the Briton divined something. 
 
 "Who lent him the bulk o that?" he demanded, 
 and when Ovide touched his own breast the Scot shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Yes," insisted the bookman, "I did that myself." 
 
 The cross-examiner clapped his hands on his knees 
 and looked the narrator in the eye. Then, relaxing, he 
 said: 
 
 "That s all right. Well doneall round ! I under 
 stand!" 
 
 Now at sea, off Hatteras, the intermeddler, obvious 
 partisan of Philip, began, purely for love s cause, a 
 gentle, covert endeavor to give the Creole political 
 mind a new openness. Whether Philip, should he fol- 
 
 222 
 
ENCHANTED ISLE 
 
 low to the beautiful island, would choose to make it a 
 sociological study the Briton cared little, but he was 
 agog to rub into the father of Rosalie the superiority 
 of certain phases of the island s social order to similar 
 phases in "the States." He extolled its harmony in 
 every civic relation and spent his wiliest efforts preach 
 ing the abominable gospel of government by peaceable 
 counterplay of rival political parties enjoying equal 
 rights. With wearying frequency he cited the history 
 of Britain s rule at home and abroad and dwelt on her 
 blunders the many missteps she had had the courage 
 to retrace and pay for in her struggle to govern and 
 serve, with equity and freedom, the throng of alien 
 races, white and dark, of her far-stretched empire. 
 
 The Creole moaned under the load, yet because of 
 Philip, whom neither of them ever once named, but 
 who for that very reason loomed ever before his inner 
 gaze, he could not, himself, put the odious, worn-out 
 theme aside even when the Scot was mercifully silent. 
 
 "My dear sir, tha z the deadest queztion in Ammer- 
 ica!" 
 
 "No, Mr. Durel, it isn t dead, it s merely possum- 
 ing. I say it wi no vaunting, but wi drread. Ye 
 may crrack its bones and get never a whimper, yet 
 tis but possuming. Lorrd! Ye can t neglect it to 
 death; the neglect of all America can t kill it. It s in 
 the womb o the future and bigger than Asia, Africa, 
 and America combined. Ye 11 do well to be friendly 
 wi its friends and trreat it kindly while it s young and 
 trractable." 
 
 223 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "My dear sir " 
 
 "Hold on, this is my last word. Tisn t dead, I say. 
 It s but lost its place in the line and been sent back to 
 the wurrukTs tail-end. Wi war and a swarrm o 
 lesser things on yon side, and preparedness and a 
 swarrm o lesser things on this, it s pitifully out 
 o fashion; but fashions have an uncanny trrick o 
 comin back, and there s a day ahead, whether far or 
 near God only knows, when that question and they 
 that are out o fashion wi it will come round again, 
 as big and ugly as hoop-skirrts." 
 
 Thus the zealot for love, not politics bored his 
 victim through and through, yet did not wholly defeat 
 his own design. When the short voyage was done 
 and the fair island spoke for itself, the Creole vision 
 had been quickened if not cleared. But a far larger 
 service to true love had been rendered merely in set 
 ting the father and daughter ashore on this small facet 
 of the world. 
 
 Wherever nature arrays herself in surpassing beauty 
 she challenges the human heart to show why for 
 what gain or by what right it keeps itself to itself. 
 From the moment Rosalie set foot on the magical island 
 islands, for the one is many she found nature sing 
 ing and pleading as it sings and pleads in the Song of 
 Solomon. 
 
 "Here is Solomon s Song," thought she, "in coral, 
 in cedar." Wherever by hill or vale, by beach or cliff, 
 she wandered to escape the human voice, and often in 
 spite of human voices that could not be escaped, the 
 
 224 
 
ENCHANTED ISLE 
 
 voice of nature cried to every sense its plaint of love; 
 and always that voice though it never spoke in hu 
 man tones and oftenest was as noiseless as the little 
 ground-doves that ran two-and-two before her feet in 
 every road and garden-path was the voice of Philip 
 seeking her out across seven hundred miles of States 
 and seven hundred of ocean. 
 
 Yet always, too, another voice spoke, in challenging 
 rejoinder; the voice of her own tenderness, interceding 
 for a heart-weary father, mateless, stripped of power, 
 lacerated in pride, wrecked in fortune, and bereft of 
 home. 
 
 One day, as the sun dipped low, the two, far from 
 human contact, sat on the brow of a precipitous sea- 
 beaten cliff, looking out to the ocean s rim, across the 
 marvellous peacock colors which the waters there take 
 above and between innumerable submerged gardens 
 of coral. Here, for the first time since landing, he re 
 verted to their situation. 
 
 "Rose," he said abruptly and in French, "I beg you 
 to be more receptive to admirers. In New York I 
 yielded to your proposal that we go back to New Or 
 leans and begin life over again, at the foot of the lad 
 der; but the thought of it is cutting my heart through. 
 I chose to pass a long widowhood bearing its burdens 
 alone; I cannot endure now to lighten them by loading 
 their heavier half on my child. Your dying mother 
 bade me marry again if only to avoid that." 
 
 "Dear papa, I wish you would, even now." 
 
 "It could not, cannot be. The only one to whom 
 225 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 my heart might have turned was one whom I had 
 loved in earliest manhood, but who, for others sake, 
 had married before I married your mother; and that 
 one, when your mother went to heaven, had been there 
 already a year." 
 
 Without a stir of surprise the daughter meditatively 
 said : " Since that first mutual loss was a mutual sacri 
 fice to duty I should think you would have found hi 
 your heart a very tender place for her son." 
 
 " No ! Precisely because he, like you, is a living, 
 shining monument of that sacrifice, his treasons to our 
 people are treasons to me an unpardonable personal 
 offense 1" 
 
 "Papa, they are meant in good faith, in loyalty." 
 
 "That does not better them or excuse him. They 
 are treasons to the people to whom he owes a supreme 
 allegiance; treasons still persisted in " 
 
 "Ah, how are we so sure?" 
 
 "By the New York paper I read but yesterday, say 
 ing as I read it: Thank God he is no son of mine. 
 Please God he never shall be." 3 
 
 "It must be as you say," rejoined the girl, with eyes 
 averted and cast down. "For that reason I have felt 
 the more free to ask myself, these last few days, in this 
 fair land so like and unlike our own Louisiana " 
 
 "About those things which he says and writes?" 
 
 "Yes, and which we see here in daily practice with 
 out any evil that we at home avoid. Are they as base 
 as we think, as dangerous as we fear?" 
 
 The father s reply came headlong. "They are, and 
 226 
 
ENCHANTED ISLE 
 
 worse ! I deny everything this land pretends to show 
 to the contrary. I am firmer than ever in my original 
 opinions, the opinions of my fathers !" 
 
 Rosalie made bold to touch his hand. "No, dear 
 papa, like me, you are shaken. That is why you are so 
 fierce." 
 
 "I am fierce because a man like that ought never to 
 seek or touch ! the hand of a Southern woman !" 
 
 "That would rule out every man yonder in New 
 York or here in Bermuda to whom you bid me listen." 
 
 "Not at all ! They are not Louisianians or in Lou 
 isiana. If you choose to marry away from home, out 
 of the South, I lay no ban on any suitor s politics. Let 
 his politics be those of his country of good society in 
 his country. For God s sake, don t refuse to marry, 
 altogether! Suppose I should die next year, and 
 grand mere the year after. Heaven ! What would 
 you do?" 
 
 "My dear papa, I have long ago thought that out. 
 There is always the cloister, the veil." 
 
 He caught her fingers. "And not Philip Castleton ?" 
 
 She shook her head. "After you are gone no. 
 Once for all I have dismissed Philip Castleton not 
 in word, it is true, but in fact. I have as good as said 
 to him: Go, find another. Do me that honor; the 
 honor not to let love for one woman drive the perfume 
 of happiness out of a noble life, out of a world s ser 
 
 vice." 
 
 "And he has renounced you?" 
 "Yes. Not in words to me, but in acts to you. 
 227 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Let ine ask has he made the slightest use of our dis 
 tresses to get me from you? Has he not rather 
 planned and worked to keep me with you ? You have 
 not told me so but I have eyes." 
 
 " And you approve that ? For him to drop you so ? " 
 
 " He has not lightly dropped me. He has torn him 
 self away. He has made neither too much of love nor 
 too little. Knowing it or not, he has followed your 
 example." 
 
 "My child, not he. He will never follow anything 
 but conviction. What credit lies in that I grant him." 
 
 "Please do not you speak in his praise, papa. My 
 heart is neither flint nor clay. It can only struggle to 
 give up a lover who can love in that fashion. When 
 he has found another and I believe he will I may 
 succeed better. But, after all, we are only supposing 
 a dreadful thing that is not going to be. You will live 
 on and on, and beautiful grand mere is good for twenty- 
 five years yet to come." 
 
 Again that night it was long ere the father could 
 sleep. At dawn he dreamed. There came before him 
 a vision so real, so unfantastic, that when he sprang 
 awake a sense of its actuality so persisted that he rose 
 half up to dispel it. He had seen Philip s mother. 
 
XXXVI 
 ENCHANTED VISION 
 
 THAT he had seen and not merely dreamed he saw, 
 the waking man was confident because of his proud 
 self-assurance that he was without superstitions. 
 
 He did not discredit the supernatural; he accepted 
 even latter-day miracles. He knew, by his earliest 
 catechism, that all above and about him there were 
 angels and that one in particular kept guard over him. 
 But he believed, too, in science, in reason, in the stead 
 fastness of nature s laws, and in no self-operating 
 magic. Not one of those thousand faces of lions, apes, 
 horses, men, and swine, that in these months of brain- 
 wrack had beset him meant any more to him than to 
 his physician. They had never uttered a sound. But 
 in this marvellous, undreamlike vision he had had the 
 clear testimony of two senses at once; he had seen, he 
 had heard; saw acts performed, heard rational words. 
 From this experience, moreover, that whole grotesque 
 mob of silent, stone-gray visages was totally absent. 
 
 Philip s mother had appeared in the bloom of her 
 girlhood, though beside her stood her son in adult 
 breadth and stature. For, as something had mutely 
 told him at the moment, in heaven as our case may 
 be we grow on, or grow back, to youth s perfect day 
 and there abide. The dreamer, as it seemed, with 
 
 229 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Rosalie at his side, had been strolling along a bit ol 
 white coral sand-beach between the cliff where they 
 had sat and conversed in the afternoon, and a part oi 
 the sea where the waters boiled and lashed over low 
 jagged rocks. They had paused to look into the 
 golden haze of the ocean sunset, when suddenly, in 
 clear outline and an amazing show of reality, Philip s 
 mother, and then Philip, advancing a single step from 
 her side, were there. 
 
 They seemed not to have arrived but to materialize 
 on the spot from the sunset haze. At the same time 
 a voice, close by, yet not on one side or another but 
 appearing to originate in and from the whole sur 
 rounding air, spoke the one word, "Compensation." 
 Awed, thrilled, the father had barely found time to 
 say to the daughter, "This is no dream," when the 
 word, this time far overhead, was repeated, followed 
 by two others "At last!" 
 
 If this recital anywhere betrays the whimsicalities 
 of a dream the fault is in the telling. The mother and 
 son were hardly five paces away. Philip stood on the 
 boiling rocks she beyond him on the yeasting sea 
 as though these were footings as convenient and usual 
 as the turfed crown of the bluff above. So standing, 
 she presently began to sway in an exalted rhythm as 
 of a sacerdotal dance. And now she reached and took 
 one hand of her son while he extended his other to 
 Rosalie, who, leaning at the sands outer edge and 
 clinging to her father s hold at arm s length, stretched 
 her free hand out over the water for Philip s. Nothing 
 
 230 
 
ENCHANTED VISION 
 
 In routine life could have seemed more actual. As 
 hands touched, the mother called; not in that earlier, 
 incorporeal voice, but in one most sweetly human and 
 familiar and incalculably more real for being out of 
 the rhythm: "Make her mine! Mine! Make both 
 thine, and each one ours !" 
 
 Its hearer awoke in a tremor of realization. When 
 he sprang to his elbow the golden light that filled his 
 broad window was that of a rising sun, and he left the 
 bed and dressed. In a day of better poise he might 
 have explained away the experience as coming not to 
 him but from him. Now he could not. That first 
 voice, by which it had been heralded, could be nothing 
 but the call of his guardian angel. The speaking pres 
 ence of his first beloved was too holy to be reasoned 
 off into mere reverberations of haunting cares and 
 incidents of the previous day. 
 
 He walked out into the beautiful white highway 
 that rims the harbor, more than usually willing to 
 meet the burdensome Scot. It had suited both the 
 Durels quite as well as Murray for the latter to put 
 up at a leading hotel of the island s small capital while 
 they went to a quiet inn on the opposite, the "Paget," 
 side of the bay. For more than two days, now, they 
 had not seen him; since the latest arrival, that is, of 
 the New York steamer, on which he had more than 
 half expected a friend whom he would have to show 
 about and present to the governor-general, as he had 
 already done them. 
 
 This morning, at the first turn of the winding road, 
 231 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 the risen dreamer saw his fellow tourist coming round 
 the next one ahead. In Bermuda every one goes on 
 the bicycle, and the Scot was cycling, but he promptly 
 dropped to his feet and soon the two were walking 
 back toward the Creole s inn together, the cyclist push 
 ing his wheel. Following his inquiry as to monsieur s 
 night s rest the wheelman found himself required to 
 answer a personal question: Had he ever seen an un 
 doubted vision as distinguished from the vagaries of 
 an ordinary dream? 
 
 His reply was adroit. While he was far too gross, 
 he said, for that sort of thing, he believed some were 
 not and that monsieur was emphatically of their kind. 
 
 "Well, if tha z the way you billieve, I muz tell you 
 something. You ll egscuse me, putting that on you? 
 There is nobody else an any ow I thing maybe you 
 have been tol a good deal abboud me, eh?" 
 
 "Right or wrong, I ve guessed a lot." 
 
 "Well, I muz tell you." The Creole told his story; 
 not the dream alone but the whole history that fore 
 ran it and which needed to be known in order to ap 
 preciate the vision in its full poetic and convincing 
 power. 
 
 When at its close he waved and dropped both hands 
 his companion made instant reply, hurried by that 
 same zeal in the cause of love which had inspired him 
 to lure the Creole to the island. "Mr. Durel, it s no 
 for a Hieland Scot to doubt the second sight! The 
 mother of Philip Castleton, etherealized, has shown 
 her actual self to you as mayhap she cannot to any 
 
ENCHANTED VISION 
 
 other morrtal. I make no doubt that they in her 
 worruld are at times given a power by which she s 
 first prompted in you a drream and then used the 
 drream to give a splendor of emphasis to her prresence 
 and to the prrayer she makes you." 
 
 "Tha zyo thought?" 
 
 " It s my conviction, sir ! The most you saw was 
 pure drream; the vision was a wee bit in its centre, 
 like the seed in the thistledown. D you mark, that 
 of the three she, her son, and your daughter only 
 she spoke?" 
 
 "An in that you fine a meaning?" 
 
 "I find a fact; this: that the other two were but 
 phantoms of her creation. She alone was a real pres 
 ence in the spiritual body. Man, how trremendous 
 must be that love, or pain, or both, that brrings her 
 holy soul back from paradise after all these years ! " 
 
 "Whad would you do? You would grand that 
 prayer?" 
 
 The Scot hoped he saw victory but would not be 
 hasty. "I d do nothing yet," he said. "Man ! Her 
 prayer changes not a single fact of the case. The case 
 is just where it was before the vision." 
 
 "My dear sir, no !" began monsieur. "Thad prayer 
 change every But his friend chose to be deaf. 
 
 "The case is just where it was and you don t even 
 yet know all the facts. Not that I know any that 
 would alter your mind 
 
 "What is thad fact I am ignorant?" 
 
 " A fact no one would ever have told me if I hadn t 
 233 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 firrst guessed it; a thing a those Castle tons have tried 
 their best to hide " 
 
 "By what right do they dare to hide any " 
 
 "Man, by a divine right ! From you, from all, but, 
 clearrest of all, from your daughter. For if she knew 
 it she wouldn t have Phil Castleton though you threw 
 him at her." 
 
 "I dimmand that you tell me that !" 
 
 "I ll do it when I have your worrd of honor that 
 you ll not tell her or any one who might tell her." 
 
 "My frien , she woul n have him any ow. You 
 don know they ave already rinnounz each other?" 
 
 "Pooh ! You must pledge me not to tell her." 
 
 "All right. I give you my word of honor." 
 
 "You won t even let her know she doesn t know 
 all?" 
 
 "I promiz that also." 
 
 "Very good. Mind, I m taking rrisks. It may 
 play the devil for me to tell, but well it may help 
 interrpret the vision. For I know the pain it s cost 
 both you and her that s in heaven, for you to have 
 saved your business honor by well, flatly by bor 
 rowing from your wife s father s nigger Oh, now, 
 keep cool and I ll tell you good news. You did not. 
 You didn t do what you thought you were doing. 
 Every dollar Landry lent you came from the Castle- 
 tons. It s good you wanted no more; twas all they 
 had." 
 
 M. Durel was overwhelmed. He sank to a seat on 
 a low wall and gazed across the harbor and its islands. 
 
 234 
 
ENCHANTED VISION 
 
 At length he spoke again: "An you tell me that for 
 my comfort?" 
 
 " I tell it for what it s worth. Here comes mademoi 
 selle I ll see you later." 
 
 235 
 
XXXVII 
 TRUE FLESH AND BLOOD 
 
 SHUNNING all frequented ways, for three sunsets in 
 succession the father and daughter returned to that 
 cliff and beach where the ocean boiled over the rocks. 
 
 The scene was an alluring one; for its own sake, to 
 go there was easier than to stay away. Yet it was not 
 for its own sake they went. There, each time, with 
 daughterly indulgence and a growing fear that his 
 strength was failing she heard him recount the first 
 half of his dream, describing its apparitions but not 
 their movements, and mentioning neither words nor 
 voices. That he did not tell the whole matter was 
 plain, but she would not tempt him on; sought rather 
 to divert his thoughts. 
 
 But they would not be diverted. He would not 
 have it so. Whether the experience was dream alone 
 or dream and reality blended, he said, could be de 
 cided only by invoking its return. If it could be 
 tempted back he would know it as a true visitation 
 from the spirit world. On their way to the spot for 
 the third time, he confessed, when plied, that the 
 strain was telling sadly on "these nerves," and he 
 promised that if this visit proved fruitless it should 
 
 236 
 
TRUE FLESH AND BLOOD 
 
 be the last. "But that is on one condition," he said, 
 "that for a few minutes ten fifteen you will leave 
 me there alone. If she wants to come and cannot it 
 is because of your presence." 
 
 So when he sat down on the tumbled rocks, well 
 back, where the cliff s foot was dry, to await the sink 
 ing of the vast crimson ball on the sea s rim, she idled 
 away from him amid the sea-grape, sea-lavender, and 
 other things, higher and lower, that covered the wind- 
 heaped sands. A few steps aside, at a corner of the 
 cliff which would have put her out of view, she almost 
 reversed her steps on a footpath that wound up the 
 steep s front in a breast-high ambush of wild growth 
 curious in form and fruit. 
 
 Half-way up, the angle of ascent persisting, a yard 
 or so of the path allowed scant foot-room through a 
 fissure in the soft coral rock and revealed another 
 front of the bluff. Here for a brief space she paused 
 to look seaward upon the uppermost crimson rim of 
 the departing sun and then, moving on, turned the 
 cliff s angle. Naturally, as she did so, her glance rose 
 to the steep s cedar-crowned top and instantly she 
 recoiled, gazing and trembling. Up there, at the 
 height s edge, looking far out on sky and ocean, as she 
 had just done, and lighted from head to foot by the 
 twilight glow, stood Philip Castleton. 
 
 No faintest sign did he betray of seeking, expecting, 
 or desiring any human presence, at least ashore, and 
 after a second or two, with gaze unaltered, he stepped 
 backward and was lost among the cedars. She faced 
 
 237 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 about, hurried down the path, and soon was at her 
 father s side. 
 
 "Have you seen anything?" she asked. 
 
 "Nothing. My daughter, your hands are ice! 
 What has happened to you?" 
 
 "Nothing out of the natural I hope. Let us go, 
 we have omitted to bring a lantern." 
 
 "My child ! You have yourself seen her !" 
 
 "Worse, papa. I have seen her son." 
 
 "My God! He spoke? He saw you?" 
 
 "No, he was looking away out to sea." 
 
 "For her!" 
 
 "I know not, but certainly not for us." 
 
 "Rosalie, my poor child, you have but dreamed." 
 
 "Hoh!" 
 
 "My child, I believe that man is in New Orleans, 
 alive and well." 
 
 "No, dear papa, you believe that if he is in New 
 Orleans he is there only in the lifeless clay, and that 
 if he is alive he is here. Let us go." 
 
 They climbed to the high ground and by and by 
 were in one of those narrow, rugged footways, "tribe- 
 roads," that are frequently deep-sunken in the island s 
 foundation rocks, their perpendicular sides overhung 
 above by interlacing boughs. Here they were clam 
 bering steeply upward in the dusk, with barely room 
 to go abreast, when, on reaching a more level part be 
 tween the walls of two ancient grove-gardens, another 
 rise, just beyond, showed facing from them against a 
 vertical streak of sky and no sooner seen than veiled 
 
 238 
 
TRUE FLESH AND BLOOD 
 
 again in a gloom of foliage the slow-stepping figure 
 of a man, the same that Rosalie had seen under the 
 cedars of the ocean cliff. 
 
 With an arresting gesture to her the father, as well 
 as he could stumble up the rocky path, hastened for 
 ward. Haltingly, tremblingly, she followed; but when 
 by and by she found herself on a level highroad and 
 between the open gates of three umbrageous estates, 
 nothing moved to tell her where to look for either van 
 ished form. Soon, however, her father rejoined her. 
 His touch was as cold as hers. 
 
 "Come," he said, "let us go indoors." 
 
 For some distance they went silently, but then his 
 speech was abrupt. "My soul !" he cried. "It is his 
 ghost looking for her; her with her grief, he with his !" 
 
 "No, he is still in this life." 
 
 "Then he is looking for us ! Else by what chance 
 in ten thousand is he just now in this part of this 
 island?" 
 
 "By a chance, papa, less than one in ten thousand, 
 yet by chance. You ll have that proved to-night in 
 the most commonplace way by telephone." 
 
 " Ah, telephone ! Can even wireless inform me how 
 he vanished between those three gates, like a blown- 
 out candle?" 
 
 "Yes, he went one way and you another, that is all." 
 
 At their inn the pair found the dining-room full and 
 the region of the telephone empty. Monsieur called 
 up the Scot s hotel and was answered. "I wizh," he 
 said, "to speak with Mr. Philip Cazzleton. Phil 
 
 239 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 yes." He waited. Rosalie, at his side, shook visibly. 
 The answer came; she heard it. 
 
 "He s not in just now, sir. He s dining over in 
 Paget." 
 
 She averted her face and sank, all but fell, into a 
 chair. Monsieur hung up the receiver. "Murray has 
 done this," he said, "he s wire thad young man to 
 
 come !" 
 
 "Yes, without telling him we are here." 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 "If he knew we were here he would never have 
 come !" 
 
 Each for the other s sake they went in to the evening 
 meal. But soon they left the inn, unequal to social 
 encounters and too restless to find comfort in set pas 
 times. Out on the broad coral-paved highway as 
 smooth as a courtyard the night was wonderful. Close 
 on the road s inland side loomed the steep hills, clad 
 with groves of fiddlewood and cedar, avenues of palm 
 and aloe, bamboo and casuarina, and gardens rife with 
 lilies and roses, behind hedges of bignonia and hibiscus 
 and low walls of coral sandstone. Below them on the 
 outer side slept the harbor, its ripples and wavelets 
 tipped with phosphorescence. On the opposite shore 
 the little city s lights, reflected in the water s margins, 
 swarmed up the loftiest hillside till a few at the top 
 mingled with the northern stars. 
 
 These were the things that could speak to the father s 
 and daughter s minds. Here the grossest intrusion 
 was no more than the silent passage of an occasional 
 
 240 
 
TRUE FLESH AND BLOOD 
 
 bicycle as it put them for a moment in the glare of its 
 lamp. The surpassing beauty and peace of the scene 
 calmed them, and long after a tower clock beyond the 
 harbor had tolled ten, and their steps, though slow, had 
 wearied them, they still breathed the solace of the 
 open sky. They were resting half seated on a bit of 
 low retaining wall next the water, where the road, at 
 an abrupt turn, was on that side built out against the 
 wall and on the other was cut into the face of a hill. 
 Their infrequent remarks were quite detached from 
 the thoughts that most haunted them, but after a time 
 Rosalie ventured so near them as to say : 
 
 "Papa, when you believed that was a ghost we saw, 
 did you think also of of Zephire?" 
 
 "Ah!" said the father evasively, "Zephire is in 
 Mexico; a general, I am told of fifty men. May he 
 never return !" 
 
 A long silence followed. Then, "It may be," mur 
 mured the same speaker, " that we shall see our ghost 
 again to-night; he is afoot, you know, and this is Pa- 
 get." 
 
 "Papa, do you want to see him to-night?" 
 
 "Not in this fashion, waylaying him in the King s 
 highroad. Let us go back to the inn." The girl 
 slipped from the wall, but then stood very still. From 
 a few yards up the road on its inner edge came a sound 
 of some one approaching; some one walking, his tread 
 barely audible, who, like this pair, was without a lan 
 tern. The shadow of the hill quite hid his form, and 
 as a bicycle s light, rounding the cliff, put father and 
 
 241 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 daughter exactly in its centre the footfall stopped 
 short. Then, as the turning lamp s circle of light left 
 them it shone full upon Philip Castleton. His dazzled 
 eyes still showed amazement, but before the light could 
 pass the amazement had changed to that intrepidity 
 of gaze best known to Zephire which so graced those 
 eyes in extreme moments. 
 
 "Mr. why why, Mr. Durel!" The lamp was 
 gone, the two men were meeting in the middle of 
 the snow-white road, under a flood of moonlight. 
 "Why " He tried to continue, but broke down with 
 a laugh. 
 
 242 
 
XXXVIII 
 LOVER AND DREAMER 
 
 MONSIEUR S unsmiling rejoinder had been polished 
 and sharpened for the encounter. "You di n know I 
 was there, in Bermuda ? " 
 
 " Not till that light fell on you. I didn t dream it ! " 
 
 "Dream" was the happiest word the youth could 
 have spoken. The Creole s brow showed a kindliness 
 new to Philip. "Well," he responded, "any ow 
 His hand swung forward. Philip pressed it. "Rosa 
 lie," its owner said, " tis our frien Mr. Cazzleton." 
 
 Her hand throbbed a moment in Philip s. "Like 
 us," she said, "you are here for rest, I suppose?" 
 
 That purpose he disclaimed and when monsieur 
 mentioned the extra burden of grand-jury work 
 "Not burden enough to be called work," he said, "and 
 anyhow, last week, first of March, our term ended. 
 There s a new grand jury. No, I m here for study; 
 for a closer view of certain experiments in public mat 
 ters about which we at home need to know all we can 
 learn. That s why I ve just been dining with some of 
 the island s leading men." 
 
 Monsieur let out a faint "humph." Could they 
 never take, these two, a step together without stepping 
 on that thorn? The three moved toward the inn, 
 monsieur silent, Rosalie plying the youth with in- 
 
 243 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 quiries, first about his far-wandering aunt and the 
 judge, and then as to social New Orleans in general. 
 He soon saw that the brave plan to capitalize her 
 talents in New York had been dashed to bits on its 
 pavements, and was glad that she gave no chance to 
 ask questions, since he could have offered no regrets. 
 At the inn door she spoke a prompt good night. 
 Not so her father. "You are walking entirely arroun 
 into Hamilton?" he inquired. "If you please I ll go 
 halv-way with you. Rosalie, you ll not wait up for 
 
 me." 
 
 "Ah!" she cried, "and you ll talk all night about 
 that war !" "War" meant "vision." 
 
 She drew him aside and in two or three whispered 
 words, without argument, repeated her warning lit 
 erally. How many things there are which one cannot 
 explain to a father ! In a maiden s diplomacy with 
 fate her heart s fate there may come a time when 
 she can no longer dictate ideal terms but must take 
 what offers. To Rosalie, however, that time had not 
 come and no hint of that vision must let it seem to 
 have come. The lover s suit was withdrawn ! He had 
 raised his siege ! Not she nor her father, but fate 
 alone, some new turn of fate, must run up the white 
 flag to bring back the withdrawn besieger. All this 
 harrowing argument she kept unwhispered, trusting it 
 to a father s love and wisdom, and with another blithe 
 good night went in. 
 
 Walking beside the youth who had been one of the 
 apparitions of his dream monsieur found his mind so 
 
 244 
 
LOVER AND DREAMER 
 
 flooded with that experience that he remained silent. 
 Yet he walked on, impelled by a growing power in that 
 prayer brought to him from the spirit world. And by 
 another impulse as well: a sense of imperious obligation 
 imposed by the astounding self-sacrifice the two Cas- 
 tletons had made to save his honor for the sake of his 
 mother and daughter. For days he had vainly striven 
 to impute to them one or another absurd hope of rec 
 ompense. Intellectually he could not help but recog 
 nize the self-denial, yet emotionally he could not force 
 himself to realize it. It benumbed his imagination. 
 He could more easily accept the reality of that amazing 
 dream than of this quiet fact. As long as its author 
 had seemed to be Ovide it had been credible; Ovide 
 was in effect of a sort a Durel. But these two, 
 and in particular the younger, this renounced and re 
 nouncing lover how could it be ? Such form of self- 
 effacement, masculine self-effacement, he had never 
 seen, heard of, read of, in all mankind s love-story. 
 What to do with its insufferable weight he could not 
 contrive. Gratitude lifted not an ounce of it. Not one 
 *ed drop of gratitude could he find in his heart. Honor 
 tself forbade gratitude; for without a change of front, 
 which this present strait made impossible, gratitude 
 was pure mockery. So he walked mute until Philip 
 iiought it only true deference to speak. 
 "I wasn t compelled to come to Bermuda," he said, 
 could have turned back at Princeton." 
 "I hear in New York you are called to Harvard." 
 "No. However that report got out, it s wrong. 
 245 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 They did fancy they wanted me at Princeton, but I m 
 not going." 
 
 "Ah ! You should go. Ad Prinzton, so cloze bitwin 
 Washington and New York, tha z to be in the big 
 worl , an tha z w at you love, that big worl , is it not ? " 
 
 "Mr. Durel, I love New Orleans." 
 
 Monsieur replied inquiringly, as if that were news 
 to him. "Yes? For w at you love her?" 
 
 "For what she is; for what she is to be, and for 
 whatever I can do to that end." 
 
 "Yes? With all her fault , as they say, you ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir! Yes! I love my mother-city faithfully 
 enough to see her faults I d rather call them ailments 
 and to want to help cure them as I couldn t help 
 from a distance. I ve never said she had more of them 
 than the big world. Mr. Durel, if I ever get to where 
 the big world s faults are my first business as they 
 are some men s I m certainly not there now. That s 
 the reason at least that s one reason I can t go to 
 Princeton or anywhere else yet!" 
 
 "Same like su posing Clevelan , Buffallo, Minnea 
 polis, was yo mother-city you should say " 
 
 "No, sir. No! ... No! ... No! New Orleans 
 isn t just my mother-city, or yours and mine, she s a 
 mother-city metro, mother, polis, city; the capital of 
 a distinct more or less distinct civilization." 
 
 "Of of Dixie, I su pose?" 
 
 "Yes, and that s why to say I love New Orleans is a 
 lot bigger than for any such as I to say, I love Cleve 
 land, or Buffalo, or Minneapolis, though they may all 
 
 246 
 
LOVER AND DREAMER 
 
 be greater in their way. To love Dixie s capital joins 
 me to the whole big world even in the matter of faults; 
 for there isn t a shortcoming in Dixie that isn t so con 
 doned and shared by the rest of the nation as to be 
 the whole nation s shortcoming in the eyes of the big 
 world." 
 
 "Capital of a civilization/ monsieur mused aloud. 
 
 "Yes Oh, that s her greatness, sir ! not the 
 numbers of her population, or the tonnage in her har 
 bor, or the size of her bank clearings, or how many ten 
 thousand strangers she can cram into Canal Street on 
 Mardi Gras. They could all be thrice what they are 
 and she still be a village if she chooses chooses to 
 forget her splendid spiritual responsibilities to all Dixie 
 and to the big world." 
 
 The mention of Mardi Gras recalled to monsieur 
 that insolent criticism of it thrown at him in New 
 York. "You billieve," he asked, "she /or-get those 
 rizponsibbleties whiles the Carnival?" 
 
 Philip tossed an arm. "Ah, that tawdry lunacy! 
 She s just had it again. I ve spent half this evening 
 laboring to excuse it to three war-vexed Englishmen 
 and a Frenchman." 
 
 " Humph ! . . . humph ! While same time you d 
 like to cud that out, eh? Yo city s greatez event of 
 the year?" 
 
 "Oh, if we could! Wouldn t you? Mr. Durel, 
 maybe I can t see it nearly as small to-night as I 
 ought; last week s glare of it is in my eyes yet. But 
 when a great modern city, capital of a civilization, 
 
 247 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 makes that organized old puerility which is neither 
 reality nor good dream-stuff, celebrates no achieve 
 ment, initiates no enterprise, presents no contest of 
 strength or skill, and offers no illustration worth saving 
 overnight of any art, literature, or other refinement 
 makes that, I say, its greatest event of the year, the 
 sooner she cuts it out the better the happier for her 
 and Dixie." 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" The Creole stopped in the road. 
 In all his dreaming he had never seen a son of New 
 Orleans strike his mother, mother-city, so ruffianly a 
 blow. Yet now he resumed his way: "You said that 
 to those men there?" 
 
 "Not a word of it ! I wouldn t say it even to you if 
 we didn t both, in our different ways, love New Or 
 leans. But now, see; if one of these islanders, hearing 
 us call New Orleans the capital of a certain proud off 
 shoot of civilization fondly known as Dixie, should ask 
 us what features she can show as exponents justifying 
 the offshoot, could we name our Carnival week? I 
 couldn t. I d as soon point them to our management 
 of the race question, which every difference in their 
 management of it here condemns." 
 
 Again the Creole halted, and but for his dream, 
 never out of mind, would have turned and moved 
 away. Instead, he once more walked on, asking: 
 "Mr. Cazzleton, w y do you drag me aggain into thad 
 subjec , here, to-night?" 
 
 Philip let out an abashed laugh. " I won t ! I won t ! 
 I beg your pardon. But misery loves company, and 
 
 248 
 
LOVER AND DREAMER 
 
 that subject has stuck its nose up to mine every hour 
 that I ve been in this island. I shan t mention it 
 again!" 
 
 "Well, me, I rig-ret to ave mention thad Carnival. 
 But same time, ad home yonder, you know, they ll tell 
 you how thad pay prettie well, thad Carnival." 
 
 "Yes, in dollars; and I ve no contempt for dollars 
 worthily got. But it pays only in the dollar of the 
 moment. It reaps the dollars and loses what they re 
 for; loses in civilization for New Orleans for all 
 Dixie. Why, sir, imagine half that yearly flood of 
 outlay being put into the things that truly refine and 
 glorify a city; that make it a splendid instrument for 
 a modern civilization to strike its chords on." 
 
 Monsieur bristled again. "W at city does that?" 
 
 And again Philip laughed. "None that I know of. 
 But if I knew of seven I d stay in New Orleans." 
 
 "You thing New Orleans would diz-ire you to stay ?" 
 
 Once more the laugh. "Mr. Durel, when you were 
 a boy did you never wonder if your father wouldn t 
 be glad to be rid of you? And yet you didn t run 
 away. I don t ask if I m wanted. I can t afford it. 
 I stay." 
 
 "Cann afford that hi dollars?" asked monsieur, 
 pained. 
 
 "Neither in dollars nor in spirit," was the light 
 reply. 
 
 The father of Rosalie saw straight into the lover s 
 heart just where the lover fancied himself best hid and 
 was best hid from himself. " Love rarely sees its own 
 
 249 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 shadow/* thought monsieur, charitably, and while he 
 did so Philip s self-perception cleared. 
 
 "Mr. Durel," he began, but then walked on in si 
 lence. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Cazzleton?" 
 
 "You re mighty patient with me, sir." 
 
 "Yes ? Well yes, I thing so," said the Creole, with 
 a glance to the youth, whose smile was so winning that 
 monsieur, himself smiling, wondered why he ever 
 should have been impatient. 
 
 "Also," he added, "I m well please 5 that we ve talk 
 aggain on those public queztion , biccause thad show 
 the both of uz how I m patien with you. An likewise 
 I thing you, you ve had patienz with me. An I thing 
 now we are truly frien . Tis that what I m walking 
 with you to say. You see? Biccause sinz we ave 
 now bitwin uz a so clear un erstan ing not abboud 
 those politic we ll never have that kind but " 
 
 "I know; the other thing. And that s all right." 
 
 "Yes, an by that un erstan ing we ave no longer 
 bitwin any Cazzleton an any Durel the smallez ne- 
 cezzity to rim-ain appart any mo than to meet to 
 gether." 
 
 "That s fair, sir. You re generous." 
 
 "An so tha z not by a necezzity that I make you the 
 inquiry, Wat you prop-ose to do to-morrow?" 
 
 "To-morrow? I I m not quite committed to any 
 thing." 
 
 "Ah? I thought you are always commit to some 
 thing. Well, to-morrow, neither me. An tha z al- 
 
 250 
 
LOVER AND DREAMER 
 
 ways the safez way: Keep in thad miT of the road ! 
 You muz* egsplain that Ammericanism to yo frien 
 
 Murray." 
 
 " Mr. Murray did want me to go with him to-morrow 
 to see the undersea gardens." 
 
 "An here he s coming now; looking for you; but 
 looking where I thing you have seldom the precaution 
 to be foun in thad miT of the road, eh?" 
 
 251 
 
XXXIX 
 GARDENS UNDER THE SEA 
 
 NEXT morning the Creoles, at their inn, breakfasted 
 together in a veranda that overlooked, almost over 
 hung, the sunny harbor studded with verdant, rocky 
 islets. 
 
 In the smallest hour of the night Rosalie had heard 
 her father return to his room; yet now in the eyes of 
 both there was a refreshed brightness, and on his brow 
 a better calm than had been there for many a day. 
 
 Their talk ran lightly, now on things in sight, now 
 on trifles remembered in their dear home city. They 
 felt no impulse to mention the previous evening or 
 even to rest their glances on each other; the wide scene 
 was beautifully peaceful, and to Louisianians there was 
 an inspiration of more than mere novelty in a watery 
 landscape built on rock. "A landscape," said Rosa 
 lie, "with an anatomy I" 
 
 Down in a distant turn of the bay a war-ship or two 
 rode at anchor, another rested in dry-dock; but up at 
 the town s front as many merchant steamers were 
 busy, and everywhere pleasure-boats of faultless line 
 and towering spread of wing glided near and far and 
 near again to lure to a perfect day on the water. Di 
 rectly across the harbor a certain big hotel seemed to 
 stand higher, spread wider, above the town s white 
 
 252 
 
GARDENS UNDER THE SEA 
 
 roofs than yesterday, as if it had drawn nearer in the 
 night. 
 
 But that was only Rosalie s unspoken fancy, not 
 monsieur s. He dropped into English. "That liT 
 thing over yonder, with steam up, at right of the hotel 
 an of the ferry pier is that not the boat that take 
 passenger every fine day out paz the harbor to see 
 the marvel of those coral reef through those glazz 
 bottom ?" 
 
 She said it was and that it always touched at the inn. 
 "Then w y we ave never make thad trip?" 
 "Ah, why! When every day I m begging you !" 
 "But always you prit-en tha z for yo hown plea 
 sure!" 
 
 "Only because you prefer my pleasure to yours !" 
 "Then, if tis fo me, we ll go thiz morning !" 
 He rose. The boat blew her whistle; they saw its 
 white plume, then heard its note; but Rosalie kept her 
 seat. 
 
 "Ah, to-day, papa, I think we ll have some rain." 
 "Ridiculouz!" 
 
 "But I think, outside there, we ll find it rough." 
 "No, that w izzle, tha z the sign twill be tranquil." 
 "Ah, but that crowd ! Peter and John ! " 
 "There will be none, we are juz halve bitwin two 
 steamer day . See, she is leaving. She s coming. I ll 
 sen for some wrap ." A servant was beckoned. The 
 little steamer had begun to cross among the swift plea 
 sure-boats as among a flock of gulls. 
 Yet Rosalie still kept her seat. "I think twill be 
 253 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 better, papa, if we take this afternoon, alone, one of 
 those sailboats and make a little turn just inside, 
 round about those lovely islands." 
 
 "Ah ! An yezterday you say for uz that coz too 
 much!" 
 
 One of the sailboats, which twice in mid-harbor had 
 encircled the steamer, now swept by her again and 
 came near. Two passengers, men, stood in her well. 
 The girl rose up. The two men were Murray and 
 Philip; they saluted. Their craft touched the inn s 
 small landing-pier and held fast, and the unsmiling 
 Briton spoke: "If you please, this ship is bound for 
 Neptune s gardens. But she s in distress; terribly 
 overprovisioned; must have two more consumers or 
 perrish. Come, you said lawst night you had no en 
 gagement." 
 
 Monsieur ruefully spread his palms. "Yes, but 
 tha z impossible ! Sinz half an hour I m begging 
 Rosalie to make that same trip on that stimmer. But 
 she s af-raid ! Of the rain, the win , thad crowd " 
 
 "Ah, papa ! Ah-h, papa ! How can you make such 
 a mistake ? My only cause of hesitation is suspecting 
 you to pretend you want to go because every day I m 
 begging you ! I ll be delighted !" 
 
 When, down the bay, among those ships of war, the 
 sailboat once more skimmed by the excursion-steamer, 
 four passengers, those four, sat under her towering sail 
 and answered pleasantly the wavings of Peter and 
 John. 
 
 If ever a cluster of hills, vales, islets, waters, and 
 254 
 
GARDENS UNDER THE SEA 
 
 undersea gardens was pre-eminently designed for the 
 special tillage of love, such a one was Bermuda that 
 day. And love took the tillage, for joy of it, not for 
 need, while Rosalie, on the Scot s strenuous instiga 
 tion and in splendid renouncement of the gorgeous 
 scene, sang over the marvellous waters: 
 
 " Or were I in the wildest waste, 
 
 Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, 
 The desert were a paradise 
 If thou wert there, if thou wert there/" 
 
 They found time a-plenty for as much conversation 
 in quartet on social and civil New Orleans and New 
 York in contrast, for example as the finest instinct 
 for decorum could prompt, before they humored the 
 stronger impulse to drop into pairs, the juniors for 
 ward, the elders aft. Found time for barcaroles, can 
 zonets, serenades. Found miles of waters to be flashed, 
 glided, bounded over, waters of astounding transpar 
 ency and loveliness and diversity of hue, before the 
 choicest undersea corals were arrived over and the 
 boat folded her great wings and drifted passively in 
 the breezy, drenching sunlight; glorious miles, before 
 the "submarine cameras," as Rosalie and Philip named 
 the glass-bottomed boxes, were brought out, and they, 
 best content with one, bent over it and shared together 
 every rapture that miraculous beauty can inspire in 
 two spirits consumingly aware of each other yet for 
 bidden to sound the golden note that hung on their 
 heartstrings. 
 
 255 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 In time the sails rose and spread again, the helm 
 came down, eyes returned to the upper world, and 
 ecstasy reposed, a tired butterfly. Behind the great 
 sail the two seniors discussed the transatlantic war 
 armies, fleets, gold-shipments, loans, neutralities, and 
 international law. 
 
 Forward the juniors talked of other things near 
 and far, Bermudian, Louisianian. Their one necessity 
 was to keep speech going. Only silence might not be. 
 One appreciable interval between remarks, a single 
 meeting of glances in the interval, and their pledges to 
 monsieur and to each one s own soul would have been 
 but broken pitchers. The peril was constant even 
 when their babble kept the averting charm potent. 
 
 For instance: While Philip called attention to the 
 countless purple shadows everywhere on the waters, 
 marking the leagues of hidden reefs that encircled the 
 island and made her, the island, hopelessly inaccessible 
 to any adventurer from whom she withheld her own 
 welcoming guidance, he could not put away the thought 
 that Rosalie was such an island to him and, right there, 
 half-facing him, was herself half-blinded by that glar 
 ing fact. 
 
 Or again for instance: When Rosalie shifted the 
 scene to the city they loved best, adorned its most 
 preferred drawing-rooms with Creole and American 
 fathers, matrons, beaux, and demoiselles in the varied 
 activities of chandelier light and evening dress, and 
 asked the latest quotations of its social market, he 
 could answer all other queries with better directness 
 
 256 
 
GARDENS UNDER THE SEA 
 
 than those about madame and the judge. Somehow 
 that pair seemed to have become so definitely a part of 
 this pair s case, or else a complete case of their own, or 
 both at once, that for these two to talk of them here 
 alone, with their own plight frowning over them, and 
 the mermaids gardens beckoning beneath and all 
 around was, so to speak, to lean too far out of the 
 boat. 
 
 Of course the lover s evasions worked their own de 
 feat. "Without an exterior sign from Rosalie he knew 
 that she saw through them all, saw and had long seen ; 
 and as they talked on of twenty matters Bermudian 
 and Orleanian, they could think of but one that heart 
 matter in New Orleans; of its significance to themselves 
 here, to monsieur, and to the half-forgotten aunt. At 
 first it shed promise, a rainbow light. It was very, 
 very beautiful for those two at home, robbed of each 
 other in a far-gone past, to come even now spiritually 
 into each other s possession; beautiful as a dream to 
 Rosalie, and much like one, the relation being so ex 
 clusively spiritual, so wholly intangible, as she still 
 assumed it to be and to be destined to remain. 
 
 But all the more the idle conversation had to be 
 kept going. Now it hovered over things in sight, now 
 swept once more across seas to circle round the new 
 antique-shop. 
 
 "No, since the Carnival its business was dwindling !" 
 
 Thence the talk flitted to the missionary college and 
 the Holdens. "Yes, they were well." 
 
 And thence it passed to Ovide, his books, wife, and 
 257 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 rear room, the room best remembered by Rosalie 
 with a fresh pang of perplexity as the one where, on 
 the afternoon of Zephire s smash-up, she and grand - 
 mere had found the two Castletons mysteriously clos 
 eted with the black man. Philip mentioned the place 
 to tell the droll story of Ovide s wife and a child who 
 came to the shop with books to sell; how the child, 
 speaking of their owner s extreme age, was in doubt 
 whether it was eighty-four or forty-eight. 
 
 258 
 
XL 
 LOVE TAKEN ABACK 
 
 IT was very amusing! "And Ovide, what did he 
 say?" 
 
 "He let his wife say it." 
 
 "Ah, yes; and she, how is that droll about her?" 
 
 "She wouldn t let me laugh. Told me to laugh at 
 myself. Preached ! Said: Young folks all alike. You 
 all blin alike bout grown-ups. De fires o life har ly 
 bu n clair in yo forerunners afo you take fo granted 
 dey bu nt out, leavin dess empty shell . I tell you, 
 us real grown-ups ain t empty shell . Us ain t empty 
 shell ! " 
 
 That was amusing, too, but the mirth was brief. 
 "Why did she say that to to you?" 
 
 "Oh, I stood for youth in general, I suppose." 
 
 There was room for doubt. The eyes of the pair 
 encountered and Rosalie felt a flush of enlightenment. 
 The old woman s preachment meant Philip and her in 
 particular, them and their two dearest "forerunners"; 
 meant that the same passion, hi the same incarnate 
 fulness, which was making life making this very hour 
 so cruelly sweet for these two, was making it as 
 sweet and as cruel for grand mere; for beautiful grand - 
 mere, making it so a second time, with a lifetime of 
 saintly resignation in between. 
 
 It should not be ! In a moment as brief as that un- 
 259 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 uttered cry the soul of the quiet girl was transformed. 
 It should not be! At last the quiet sufferer s whole 
 inner being, rational and irrational, sprang to arms in 
 revolt. And, as strange as that, was this that all the 
 mute arraignments that swarmed from her heart were 
 against the youth at her side. Suddenly in her mind 
 he he was both the occasion and the agent of all 
 these fettering, crippling, heart-breaking entanglements 
 of loves and fortunes. Even the exiled Zephire seemed 
 his excusable victim. Like a mob through burning 
 streets, insurrection ran through her every vein, de 
 crying Philip Castleton, Philip Castleton. This last 
 thing, this last thing, should not be, and he should see 
 to it that it should not be. How the prevention was 
 to be worked she knew not, but her soul cried to her 
 womanlike that whatever must be done there is a 
 way to do, and that the lover must find the way, find 
 it unprompted. 
 
 Now she could meet, could even seek, his glance. 
 By that sign he discerned what the old woman s words 
 had conveyed to her. And also he saw, to his unspeak 
 able consternation, that in some way impossible for 
 him to harmonize with justice or reason it had sent 
 her heart beating backward from him in this earth 
 quake revulsion of sentiment. As totally without 
 warning as one might be swept overboard; as clearly 
 to be seen as if within hand s reach, yet at the bottom 
 of the sea ! She was lost ! All her sweet courtesies 
 and Creole graces were here with her yet, but suddenly 
 they were empty shells. He gazed in pain, and she, 
 
 2GO 
 
LOVE TAKEN ABACK 
 
 ever talking, tinkling on in her shining trivialities, 
 could meet even his gaze, while "You are odious" 
 whispered the empty shells, under the talk. He red 
 dened with injured wonder, with inward meanings, 
 stumbled in their conversational pitter-patter, laughed, 
 and stayed red. 
 
 \Yhereupon for enraged love, love bent on its own 
 death, always inclines to pick some small false issue 
 she reverted to the first inclemency that had ever 
 darkened their sky. "Ah, tell me ! Since comparing 
 other countries, how is that going, that" the phrase 
 came with a touch of mockery "that Southern 
 Question ?" 
 
 "Oh, that?" he reddened deeper "it s stopped 
 going, as usual. In the public mind it s a clock run 
 down, on the striking side." 
 
 "But you ve thought it your duty to wind it up 
 again, eh?" Her reference was to his latest printed 
 article, "The Southern Answer." The subtlety of her 
 tone was galling. 
 
 "Yes. I m being roughly handled for thinking so." 
 
 "On the newspapers; yes, I know. And what is 
 that Southern Answer according to you?" 
 
 " Nothing. We find none. Recriminations, excuses, 
 we produce in wholesale lots, but no true reply I" 
 
 "H mm! I m sorry. But anyhow you just love 
 to make the clock strike, eh?" She saw him flame up, 
 but would not let him retort. "You haven t had 
 trouble about that with anybody, eh? besides the 
 newspapers?" 
 
 261 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Only with one, the most troublesome man I ever 
 met" 
 
 "Yourself? Truly? Yes? Well, you know? I 
 think so !" 
 
 Merciless word ! An hour earlier that reply would 
 have been pure sweetness, the breath of a garden; now 
 it was the billows going over him in a sunken garden, 
 so had her spirit altered. "You are trouble itself, 
 tribulation and torture ! " said that self-tortured spirit, 
 to his, behind the word, and then to itself cried again : 
 " Mre! Mere ! It shall not be! You shall have 
 your heart s desire ! Somehow, somehow, this time, 
 whoever suffers, you shall have joy ! " Retaining her 
 lightness she spoke again: 
 
 "How is he troubling you now, that most trouble 
 some?" 
 
 " Oh, through a small fact omitted in my article and 
 pointed out to me last evening at dinner." 
 
 "Ah, facts I They fatigue me ! " 
 
 "And me!" laughed Philip. "They weary me to 
 the bone!" 
 
 "Then why do you run so hard after them?" 
 
 He flushed again, his voice dropped. "Better after 
 them than from them." 
 
 "Well, what was it, that fact they pointed out?" 
 
 " Mademoiselle, 
 
 "Mr. Castleton, " 
 
 "When the band plays Dixie or Swanee River 
 our fancy pictures the old folks at home/ doesn t it? 
 The old-time landed squire on the old plantation?" 
 
 262 
 
LOVE TAKEN ABACK 
 
 "Ah, yes. Well, of course, naturally !" 
 
 "The squire was our social unit, the keystone of our 
 whole Southern scheme, was he not?" 
 
 "Was?" This time it was the girl who colored. 
 "Ah, yes; doubtless, yes; assuredly he was" 
 
 "Well, the small fact you ask me for is he s van 
 ished. Our keystone s dropped out. He s being in 
 dustrialized, capitalized, commercialized, modernized 
 out of existence. Now, a revolution may, conceivably, 
 momentarily, go backward; an evolution never; and 
 shall I tell you what they made me confess last 
 night ? You won t like it." 
 
 "Yes," she said, with the mental reservation that it 
 would suit her better if she didn t like it. 
 
 "Well, twas this: That the whole scheme we call 
 Dixie is being superseded, overwhelmed, by an in 
 exorable, economic evolution, with our national unity 
 and the world s unity behind it, pushing." The lover 
 paused, gazed. Faintly, he had seen his listener flinch 
 flinch not so much from his "fact" as from him, and 
 he was stung as by a whip-lash. Yonder in Vanity 
 Fair, a year before, he had not correctly described his 
 temper. It was not quick, but when it burned it 
 burned inordinately hot. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, and again she flinched, 
 though she smiled, "I know what it means to us for 
 me to thrust that fact on you; but I cannot, will not, 
 keep any least any last fraction of your regard which 
 requires me to conceal what I think about things that 
 I am bound to think about. That would be to honor 
 
 263 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 neither you nor me with the honor we both have every 
 right to claim." 
 
 Rosalie bowed twice and again in smiling approval. 
 "Yes," she said, "yes," while all the world and all 
 continuance in it grew as bitterly worthless to her as 
 to him. "That s true. Yes. Of course." 
 
 The Scot left M. Durel talking with their black 
 skipper and came and sat with the disputants. Would 
 her lover press the subject in the hearing of this alien 
 intruder ? She must know ! For him to do that 
 would be to help put love out of its misery. "Yes," 
 she said again, "go on to the end." 
 
 "I may as well," he laughed to her and the Scot, 
 desperately. "Mademoiselle, our old Dixie, and our 
 old New Orleans as well, are passing, going, have got 
 togo- 
 
 "Oh, assuredly! And consequently you contend 
 what?" 
 
 "Merely that we who love them " 
 
 "Love them oh-h-h-h!" 
 
 "We who dearly love them ought to have a well- 
 shapen, rational policy for speeding them on, instead 
 of a shapeless, emotional one for holding them back." 
 
 "Yes? You think so? Papa, wait! I m coming 
 there!" 
 
 The boat had just gone about. She sprang to her 
 feet. Philip offered a steadying hand, but she took 
 the Scot s. 
 
 264 
 
XLI 
 ENTER FEVER 
 
 THE day wore by. Its sunbeams were nearly level 
 when the small excursion-steamer, returning from the 
 sea-gardens, came back among the islets of the harbor. 
 
 Again the sailboat s lofty canvas glided past, and 
 again its four passengers were waved to by Peter and 
 John, amiably envying their better equipment for care- 
 freedom and pleasures of the vacant mind. At their 
 inn s pier the two Creoles praised the hours they had 
 spent, and said good-by, and the sailboat turned and 
 crossed to the big hotel with Philip and the Scot. 
 
 A vast sun went down behind the red, green, pearl, 
 purple, and golden bay, beyond hundreds of miles of 
 ocean, beyond all peace-girt, sea-hidden America. 
 Night followed, lone sentries paced their walls, their 
 decks, ships bells tapped double notes to the passing 
 hours, and the harbor imaged back the stars. Then 
 out of a peacock sea, with other hundreds of ocean 
 miles and all war-tortured Europe in between, the sun 
 rose again. In all those hours, sunset, night, dawn, 
 and sunrise, two gazers upon water, land, and sky 
 one on each side the beautiful harbor had harried 
 their souls to plead each his or her cruel grievance to 
 
 265 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 self, to the merciless splendors of nature, and to a pre 
 occupied world. 
 
 It should have been easy to state. A lover and 
 maiden had renounced each other s love without re 
 nouncing their own and without renouncing each 
 other s society; an agonizing thing to each, yet an 
 every-day occurrence wherever men submit to maidens 
 and maidens submit to parental discipline. Then, to 
 rescue from shipwreck the fortunes of the girl and her 
 kindred, the lover had made a business arrangement 
 which unavoidably gave that renunciation a further 
 binding force that was like bands of steel. Now when 
 the relenting father, vision-prompted, sought to relax 
 those bands, their nature made the first motion toward 
 that release impossible to him, to his daughter, or to 
 the lover, though neither daughter nor lover could 
 quite see the other s helplessness. 
 
 Thus far the way was clear, terribly clear. 
 
 But that hour among the sea-gardens had suddenly 
 worked an intolerable obscuration. It had brought to 
 view two other sufferers, far away, and, through sheer 
 new heartache and self-reproach for them, had be 
 clouded the daughter s mental vision. As long as the 
 renunciation had been but an outward act, and its 
 bonds had held apart only the one pair while inwardly 
 its perpetual sacrifice was an undying fire on love s al 
 tar, it had been made endurable by a rapture of mar 
 tyrdom and imperishable hope. But when it was found 
 laying half its load on other and beloved hearts, and 
 when it seemed to become a renunciation not of love s 
 
 266 
 
ENTER FEVER 
 
 yearnings alone but of love itself, life was life no more; 
 nor love, love; nor truth, truth; nor reason, reason; 
 all was anguish. 
 
 A maid tapped on M. Durel s chamber-door, tapped 
 again, and was turning away, when he appeared from 
 the story below, with the highway s white dust on his 
 feet. As deep in trouble as ever, he had set out for 
 his usual sea-cliff, but had retraced his steps, anxious 
 for Rosalie. 
 
 "Your daughter, sir, would like to see you." 
 
 He found Rosalie s door ajar and her standing with 
 a brow against its edge. "Papa, I suppose the ferry 
 boat is running by this time?" 
 
 "Yes, I have seen it." 
 
 "Will you please go over and engage our passage on 
 the next steamer?" 
 
 "Ah, yes, if that is the best thing to do." 
 
 "It is the only thing." 
 
 "Yet at the same time there is no haste." 
 
 "Yes, there is haste. I must see mere at the first 
 moment possible." 
 
 "For what, my child?" 
 
 She spoke audibly, though wholly to herself. "I 
 would give all I ve got to see her right now, right here." 
 
 "My daughter, listen. When I had that vision of 
 your mother, I confided it to you. Can you confide 
 nothing to your father?" 
 
 Her brow drooped. "There is nothing. If there 
 ever was anything " She lifted a hand and let it fall. 
 
 267 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 " Then anyhow tell me this : what happened yester 
 day?" 
 
 "Papa, I cannot remember. I could not be sure 
 even then." 
 
 "Certainly something happened, my child." 
 
 "Yes, but I I can t think what it was. I can t 
 think at all. Papa, I fear you ll miss the ferry." 
 
 " Chere, till you can think, it would be safer to wait. 
 You would not desire to be unreasonable." 
 
 " Yes ! I I must. Reasons are not for me. My 
 reason is as tangled as a sick girl s hair." She smiled 
 again. "The only thing to do with it is cut it off." 
 
 "Of what did you talk yesterday, Rose?" 
 
 She broke laughingly into English. "Politics! Al 
 ways his ruling passion! Forever politics!" She 
 drooped again. 
 
 And there Alphonse Durel showed himself in a new 
 light. "Ah, cherie, you know, same way a woman 
 muz stan by her n/-igion, a man he s ob-lige to stan 
 by his politic . Me, I wou n hoi that aggainz a 
 man." 
 
 "Ah, that s nothing; tis what he holds against me." 
 
 "My daughter ! Tha z impossible ! " 
 
 "No, tis true. The way he talks his politics shows 
 that he doesn t think he is the one who is being re 
 nounced. And I, I m not renounced, for you; I m 
 repudiated for his politics. And I can t complain of 
 that, because I ve discovered he s very, very selfish. 
 I m convinced he would be willing to sacrifice even his 
 aunt ! for his politics ! Papa, if you please to not miss 
 
 268 
 
ENTER FEVER 
 
 that ferry-boat!" She laid a hand on his shoulder. 
 There was fever in it. 
 
 "Why, Rosalie " 
 
 "Ah, go. If you please. And don t bring any doc 
 tor. I ll lie down till you return if you ll only not 
 bring a doctor. . . . No, he would put me to sleep, 
 and I abhor to sleep. I would rather be hanged. I 
 have so much to think!" 
 
 He went, making no promise except to engage state 
 rooms, and on his return brought a physician, who 
 lost no time in putting the sufferer to sleep. 
 
 Meanwhile Murray had found Philip, and at an 
 early breakfast which Philip, once beguiled to, was 
 eating savagely proposed a walk. 
 
 269 
 
XLII 
 WITH MURRAY MEDDLING 
 
 MURRAY preferred his pipe, Philip a cigar. They 
 set off. 
 
 "There are two Pagets," said the Scot, "East, West. 
 I m not proposing the harbor side of either, but a bit 
 of ocean-shore, south side; Elbow Beach, Elbow Bay." 
 
 "What are we to see at Elbow Beach?" 
 
 "An old wreck out on the reefs if you want an ex 
 
 cuse." 
 
 "I don t. I can see a wreck without going any 
 where." 
 
 "We ll see the eternal hills, the Atlantic, heaven s 
 blue eyes, and each other. Would you want more?" 
 
 "No, nor less. I was looking for you when you 
 found me." 
 
 From the harbor side they turned south over the 
 hills and soon were picking their way among the rocks 
 of a "tribe-road," the Briton leading and Philip most 
 unwontedly and fervidly voluble. "I know girls do 
 so, but an angel from heaven couldn t have persuaded 
 me that she could do it. The wind itself never changed 
 more suddenly or more clear about. Twas as if in 
 one flash she d learned something " 
 
 "Or guessed it, mayhap." 
 
 "Guessed? Well, guessed something that trans- 
 27C 
 
WITH MURRAY MEDDLING 
 
 formed me to her, and as if in that flash she d lost all 
 faith in my outward renunciation " 
 
 "Or inner constancy 
 
 "No, sir! She couldn t doubt both at once! Lost 
 faith, I say, in my surrender of her and saw me, in her 
 imagination, trying, after all, to buy, to bribe, the hap 
 piness I couldn t earn or beg. But why do you say 
 she guessed it?" 
 
 "I don t say, I ask. For I know no morrtal told 
 her and I know there was plenty to guess." 
 
 Philip halted in the dry, tumbled sands of the coral 
 bluff s on which they had emerged. "Who told you ?" 
 
 "Lawndry. I guessed it firrst and worrmed it out 
 of him." 
 
 "What did you guess ? What has he told you ?" 
 
 "That mad self-sacrifice of yours and the judge s." 
 
 "It wasn t mad at all." 
 
 "It was." 
 
 "It was not, Mr. Murray; it " 
 
 "It was, Mr. Castleton; and when you and he could 
 commit that insanity it s up to you, as ye say, to let 
 this Crreole girrl hearrt-torrn for her father and her 
 beautiful grand mere it s up to you to let the Crreole 
 girrl be a bit daft in turrn." 
 
 "She ll never claim that as a Creole right." 
 
 "She need not. Come, let s thrash the thing out." 
 
 " Good ! For it s thrashed me ever since she left us." 
 
 "I know, Castleton. Lord ! I once had my turn." 
 
 Philip was surprised and touched; the judge had 
 never told him that. As the two sat down in a shade 
 
 271 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 of young cedars and faced the southern blue, above, 
 below, the Scot, for relief, said: "Yon way s the West 
 Indies, if we could see over old Neptune s hump- 
 shoulders." 
 
 The lover smiled. " Let s skip the West Indies; there 
 are other humps I d a lot rather see over." 
 
 "Well, for hump the first, I call your self-sacrifice 
 insanity; yet once I was as insane unsane for one I 
 loved, knowing she loved me and counting that knowl 
 edge treasure enough." 
 
 "It is ! Twas all / asked, sir, for the rest of life." 
 
 "Well, and if I guess right maybe I don t twas 
 all your Crreole girrl asked till, suddenly to her, up 
 springs another claimant, dearrer to her than " 
 
 "Another claimant " Philip started, stared. 
 "How much of my talk did you hear yesterday?" 
 
 "All you wanted hearrd. You paraded it, you 
 know." 
 
 The young man mused aloud. "Another claimant 
 on her " 
 
 "Ay, on her love; and an equal partner in her sacri 
 fice, or more than equal." 
 
 "Mr. Murray, I believe you ve hit it! You re a 
 seer." Both men laughed. 
 
 "No, it s you re blind, or just I m sane, or not quite 
 insane. So I say give your Crreole girrl the same two 
 liberties you claim; the same unselfishness or a finer; 
 the same unreason or a wilder. We men, laddie, 
 rarrely appreciate in women the strength of other 
 sorts o love that may conflict with the love of maid 
 
 272 
 
WITH MURRAY MEDDLING 
 
 for man. We say, Oh, y r grandmither ! not drream- 
 ing that it s just the dear grandmither be she in the 
 sere leaf or yet bonnie, who may be cause enough for 
 such conflict: enough and to spare." 
 
 Philip answered eagerly : " As a generality, allowed ! 
 But, my dear sir, in this case, away back of that point, 
 why should a claim, real or fanciful, of my generosity 
 on mademoiselle s gratitude not bring us together, 
 and those other two with us, rather than hold us 
 apart?" 
 
 "Man, it should do neither! But away back o j 
 that again lies your claim on her father s gratitude, and 
 that claim he feeling to you as he long did she can 
 never tolerate and remain the supernal creature she is." 
 
 The lover responded abstractedly: "To the million 
 that would seem pretty flimsy preaching." 
 
 "To the mil Lorrd ! what have souls like hers or 
 even yours to do with the million?" 
 
 "Sometimes," said Philip, "the million are right." 
 Suddenly he warmed again: "But, right or wrong, why 
 should our separation hold those other two apart?" 
 
 " It should not ! For this is their lawst chawnce. 
 That s what the girrl sees and is mad wi grief to see." 
 
 "But why should she think it will part them?" 
 
 "For one reason: Taught by her own unselfishness 
 as far above yours as yours is above the common she 
 fearrs they will never wed leaving you and her un 
 joined." 
 
 "Oh, that would be insane. It s insane to fear it." 
 
 "No! No! Think how they d look, at their age, 
 273 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 with you two held apart. To women, doing any 
 thing, the look of it, even to the million, means ay, 
 has to mean whole chapters it need not mean to 
 men." 
 
 "Right Yes, true. I give it up." 
 
 "What up?" 
 
 "The whole argument. Your mind s eye is mighty 
 clear." 
 
 "Hawh! The mind s eye, like the body s, sees 
 mostly by guess. But yours, egad, sees naught. 
 Else yesterday you d not have lugged in politics, 
 I guess." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Murray, it was she did that." 
 
 " Twas you let her do it!" 
 
 "I did. Didn t you just now imply that my politics 
 are the inmost tangle of the whole snarl? They are. 
 And so, I let her lug them in; I hoped her father would 
 hear." 
 
 "He hearrd." 
 
 "But I had a larger reason. My dear sir, sanely or 
 madly, as you please, her city and mine, our dear 
 mother city and Dixie s, to my mind s eye, and to my 
 heart s fate, has come to mean just her, herself, Rosalie 
 Durel. She even seems to mean that I should see it 
 so; that for our city, in large degree or small, to reject 
 me is for her, its shining impersonation, to do so; and 
 that for it to open arms to me is the only chance for 
 her arms to open. She seemed yesterday to gird her 
 self in that impersonation and to make it her last 
 word, her ultimatum." 
 
 274 
 
WITH MURRAY MEDDLING 
 
 "Now, that is flimsy, laddie; she s shamming! 
 She s but playing that old mother-bird trick o the 
 brroken wing. She s but fighting a rear-guard action 
 to give her father free choice between intrenchment 
 and retreat." 
 
 " Heaven grant your guess. Yet do you wonder that 
 I tried to name the lowest terms on which I can meet 
 that ultimatum and still keep the soul I must keep if 
 it s ever to mate with hers?" 
 
 "And so says you: The old Dixie and her old capital 
 are going and should be helped to go. How tactful ! 
 Haw-haw!" 
 
 "Wasn t it! And there- 
 
 " There I came tactfully butting hi and she fled! 
 But what would you have told her besides?" 
 
 Philip sprang up, reddening, and began to pour out 
 words: "I d have told her some things I m at last 
 getting my Tulane boys to listen to; that a true lover 
 of his city, to deserve her smiles, her arms, must do 
 his finest to help fit her for a high place in the world 
 oh, better for a high place in the world s service! 
 And he can t do that, sir, by following political fash 
 ions. Nor can he do it by echoing the provincial flat 
 teries of her office-seekers and her press. It can t be 
 done, you know, by keeping her the mother city of an 
 antiquated Dixie out of step with the nation and the 
 world; and much less by Americanizing those fine old 
 Creole ways in manners, in architecture, in social and 
 domestic life which are just what ought, instead, to 
 Creolize her American crassness." 
 
 275 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Creolize her American crassness! Bravo, Jere 
 miah!" 
 
 "Yes, sir, yes. Why, Mr. Murray, to say no better, 
 there d be more money in it, in the long run, than in 
 perpetuating old Creole foibles; yearly packing our 
 streets full of raw sensation-hunters swarming to see 
 us outdo with what grotesque vastness and childish 
 art ! the follies of Naples, for instance, instead of her 
 beautiful industries. There d be more real welfare and 
 happiness in it than in doubling our population or our 
 dollars for the sake of mere population and dollars, 
 excellent as they both are." 
 
 "You d say all that to mademoiselle?" 
 
 "If she d hear me, yes ! But she wouldn t." 
 
 "She couldn t. You book!" 
 
 "She loves books!" laughed the youth. "Oh, I 
 don t so much mind being like a book if the book s a 
 live one. I d tell her more. I d tell her I want our 
 city to see to foresee that a city may be a million 
 big and yet remain a village." 
 
 "Man! Numbers help mightily to make a city 
 grreat." 
 
 "Yes, help, but that s all, and they help in vain if 
 manners and customs, justice and equity, arts, crafts, 
 and learning, civic order, beauty, and high-mindedness 
 don t play their full parts. They are what make a 
 city great and give it the numbers best for its truest 
 prosperity. The greatest cities in history, Jerusalem, 
 Athens, Rome, were never as populous as Peking. 
 Neither London nor Paris owe their greatness to their 
 
 276 
 
WITH MURRAY MEDDLING 
 
 bigness, and I dare say you, a banker, would rather 
 lose Manchester and Birmingham than Oxford and 
 Cambridge." 
 
 The challenge went unanswered. "I doubt," the 
 Scot smilingly remarked, " if you could say with which 
 you re the deeper in love, y r girrl or y r city." 
 
 "Oh, sir ! She is the city. They re one, grafted to 
 gether in my heart. She is my New Orleans, and New 
 Orleans is my city of Rosalie." With a laugh at him 
 self the lover sank again to the sand, staring out to 
 sea, his friend contemplating him with tender amuse 
 ment. Whatever unreality there may have been in 
 the source of his trouble was more than offset by the 
 depth of his distress. 
 
 "That s all," he added, "and it s all in vain." 
 
 A stir behind drew the Briton s eye. M. Durel 
 came softly through the dry sand. 
 
 377 
 
XLIII 
 LOVE NEGOTIATES 
 
 THE Scot lifted an admonishing finger to him, and 
 he stopped in the shade of a juniper while the Scot 
 asked Philip: 
 
 "And why is it all in vain?" 
 
 " Because, I tell you, what now holds us apart isn t 
 how I stand to my city; it s this embarrassed grati 
 tude standing like a spectre betw T een her and me." 
 
 "How d you know? Her harking back to y r poli 
 tics seems to say: Settle that and you settle all." 3 
 
 "No, it only veils you know how instinctively girls 
 veil things Creole girls, especially, I fancy it only 
 veils this debt-of-gratitude issue. Under that veil she 
 bids me lift this imaginary debt or forfeit her love 
 forever. And there s where she makes my plight in 
 sufferable. While I thought I held her heart I could 
 live could have lived all my days in a superb joy 
 poured out into a hand I might never hold; but with 
 her love lost, for me to go on holding her heart in my 
 debt, however unreally if she counts it real, I cannot 
 live I cannot live ! that way." 
 
 "Lad, you need not." 
 
 "Ah, yes, Mr. Murray, one thing I ve learned; 
 278 
 
LOVE NEGOTIATES 
 
 learned it even in men s politics and all the more in 
 woman s love that the more nearly imaginary a thing 
 is, the more invincible it may be." 
 
 The Scot meditated. "I know. Man, I know! 
 I m the fish that was caught once mysel wi a silken 
 line. Castleton, tis an ill turn I ve done you, tempt 
 ing you to this island; is it not?" 
 
 "I can t tell good from ill at the crack of a whip." 
 
 The Creole behind them stirred uneasily, but the 
 Scot s covert gesture held him while Philip added: 
 
 "Mr. Murray, you can make it a good turn, yet." 
 
 "Well, how? Say on." 
 
 " It s hard to say, sir, but I say it for others. I don t 
 ask a grain of direct share in its benefits, my indirect 
 share will be big enough." 
 
 "What are you driving at?" 
 
 " I want you, for the sake of her father, for the sake 
 of that older pair, and, above all, for her sake, I want 
 you to lift that so-called debt." 
 
 The Briton moved to interrupt, but Philip held him 
 by the knee and spoke on: "I don t forget you re a 
 financier, and a Scotch one, with all the disdain for 
 financial kite-flying which, from your view-point, this 
 piece of business deserves 
 
 "Yet you want me to fly kites with you." 
 
 "No, without me. I must be left out; dropped as 
 absolutely out of the transaction, right now, as you 
 saw me dropped out of her affections yesterday." 
 
 "Are you sure that s not another caper of imagina- 
 tion-gone-daft ? " 
 
 279 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Oh, sir, that drop was real; I feel myself falling yet. 
 You can t save me from that. I don t ask you to save 
 me from anything. It s they whom I want saved 
 from me. I want you to make what I am still sane 
 enough or insane enough to call an investment. I 
 offer it purely on its merits, to the one single out 
 sider who knows their real value." 
 
 "Oh, ay. You want me to go into the hole I pull 
 you out of." 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "You d have me knock your irons off and wear them 
 for you, you guaranteeing only that if " 
 
 "If nothing. We have enough whimsies already. 
 My guarantee would make the whole arrangement a 
 sham worthless to all of us, not excepting even you. I 
 tender it on its own chances. I can do no more, no 
 less, and be the man I ve got to be." 
 
 "And the man I d like you to be. But, my dear 
 fellow, haven t you had enough o my meddling? 
 Grawnting I m born with the gift for it, I ve yet never 
 been a financial meddler. Grawnting I m a sentimen 
 talist, I ve never been a financial one. That s the most 
 venomous species. Besides which, I take no shine, as 
 ye say, to a proposition that is not mainly for you 
 and her as one. And yet I ll tell you." They rose 
 together, the Scot laying an arm fondly across his 
 companion s shoulders to insure against his looking be 
 hind: "I I ll I ll think it over. Leave me here; tis 
 a good place for thought has certain advawntages. 
 I ll go wi you a step on the beach for a sight o the 
 
 280 
 
LOVE NEGOTIATES 
 
 wrreck and show you another way back o er the hills, 
 and returrn here to consult my my best judgment." 
 
 "No," said Philip, gratefully putting off the arm, "I 
 want to be alone as badly as you do." 
 
 As the two moved apart, "Oh, here!" called the 
 Scot, "you ll be stopping at the steamer office to be 
 speak yes. Well, I ll take a room wi you or next 
 you, if you prefer. And I ll rejoin you at the hotel." 
 
 When he got back to monsieur s juniper he found no 
 sign of him but his footprints. For a moment annoyed, 
 in the next he was more than half pleased and set out 
 to overtake him. 
 
 281 
 
XLIV 
 PRIDE THINKS ABOUT IT 
 
 "HE LL parley!" thought the Scot, as he pursued. 
 "He ll parley, if no better! Were he ready to reject 
 it he d have waited for me !" 
 
 Overtaken on the white highway where the inn was 
 but a few rods to the left and the hotel a good mile 
 around the harbor to the right, the Creole began to 
 talk of irrelevant trifles. He extolled the view near 
 and far for its present aspect and yet more for that of 
 an hour earlier when he had gone and come over Salt 
 Kettle Ferry. 
 
 "With your daughter?" 
 
 No, she was keeping her room as yet, trying to sleep 
 off a headache. He had stolen away "to rif-rezh the 
 brain in that morning air" while Rosalie drowsed. 
 But he had been too long away and must hasten back. 
 He could not let the Scot so "put out himseff " as to 
 go that way with him "Ah, no!" he could quite as 
 well go the Scot s way a piece. They compromised on 
 a steady to-and-fro loiter under a roadside wall and so 
 talked on. 
 
 "Mr. Durel!" 
 
 "Mr. Murray?" 
 
 "Gallant chap, that Castleton." 
 
 "Yes. Ah, yes, gallant; perchanz a HT too gallant, 
 with so many strenge picculiaritie ." 
 
 282 
 
PRIDE THINKS ABOUT IT 
 
 Murray laughed. "Man, they re but two or three, 
 and they give him indiveeduality. But indiveedualism 
 mayhap is something you don t grreatly prize?" 
 
 Monsieur shrugged. "Not necessa-rilly," he said. 
 
 "I suppose tis as much in my Brritish make-up to 
 like him for his indiveedualism as it is for you to be 
 exawsperated by it." 
 
 The Creole tossed a hand. "For me tis worz 
 than a fly in the face ! An still " He shrugged 
 again. 
 
 "Now, pawssing that, what do you think of his 
 proposition? You hearrd it." 
 
 Monsieur walked several steps before he dropped 
 his palms and lifted his shoulders once more. Then 
 he said: "I billieve Mr. Murray himseff has not told, 
 even to Mr. Cazzleton, w at himseff he thing abboud 
 that." 
 
 "Because, man, I must first know how far any 
 arrangement is going to shut Castleton out, and how 
 far tis going to let him in. And tis only you, Mr. 
 Durel, can say that." 
 
 "No, that ricquire also my daughter; her an me 
 together, yes. An yet, still, ad the same time, we 
 cann tell you that till firz we know w at is yo opinion. 
 I m verrie sorrie, but " One shrug more. 
 
 "Well, I ll say this much; if you ll leave it all to 
 your daughter- 
 Monsieur s hand rose. "I m verrie sorrie, but to 
 leave that all to her she wou n allow uz." 
 
 The Scot drew a long breath. " Lorrd ! What next ? 
 283 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Was ever such bondage in so gossamer a web ! Come, 
 let us get to the bottom of this thing !" 
 
 Yet one more shrug. "I thing we are there." 
 
 "Well, tell me this: Does y r daughter does she 
 care ? Or or does she not ? " 
 
 "Ah, sir! How is that possible for me to know?" 
 
 "Well, suppose I say that if you and she " 
 
 "Pardon. To su pose if tha z, after all, only to 
 suppose if ; tha z not to prop-ose." 
 
 "Well, then, here! I do prropose that if you and 
 mademoiselle you don t mind that if?" 
 
 "No, tha z all right; tha z neces-san/." 
 
 "If you and she will overlook your sense of obliga 
 tion to Castleton and his grandfather " 
 
 The Creole was shaking his head. "Ah, sir, that 
 also, tha z impossible." 
 
 " Ay, verily ! . . . Ay ! As a sentiment, trrue, 
 rright. But if you two will consent to regard those 
 two as no longer holding over you any constraining 
 obligation when I ve accepted this proposition and 
 taken their place behind Lawndry, egad, I ll do it ! 
 and the four of you the six may stand free." 
 
 "Egcep from yo seff." 
 
 "That shall never gall ye." 
 
 "An if we cannot consen ?" 
 
 "Then, man, I will not do it. In short, tis on the 
 lad s behawf I propose it. True, if your daughter were 
 not all she is twould be differrent. Yet being all she 
 is, tis what he is that persuades me, and that I would 
 plead for your persuasion." 
 
 284 
 
PRIDE THINKS ABOUT IT 
 
 "Ad the same time, you know, there is the pro- 
 bab lity an I thing tha z now large, that pro-bab - 
 lity that after tha z all arrange an complete 7 my 
 daughter she ll maybe find herseff not verrie much in 
 terest in Mr. Cazzleton, with his so many picculiaritie , 
 you know ? I thing, those, they are maybe right now 
 the cause of her migraine." 
 
 "We leave him to that chawnce. He d have it so. 
 So there s your if. Do you say yea or nay ? " 
 
 The reply was neither. "For me and for my 
 daughter like-wise to see the authenticitie of that 
 arrengement that would be a verrie diffycult. An 
 tha z where Mr. Cazzleton he s right when he ask to 
 be leave out. Biccause, you see, if he s let in, tha z to 
 make you the same as juz , eh, juz his power of 
 attorney; an w atever that ori-ginal obligation bitwin 
 him an me, it rimain in principle, an likewise in the 
 public eye, like biffo ." 
 
 "Lord, Lord, Lord! Mr. Durel, no! Surely it 
 should suffice that he s sought to be left out. Is not 
 this all exclusively between us four or six or eight 
 or nine, counting the two Lawndrys and me? Not 
 even your closest circle has an inkling of it." 
 
 "Ah!" the old shrug and a pained smile "that 
 is a good maxim, murder will out, eh?" 
 
 "True ! But which wad be the rrranker murrder, 
 to make this deal or to brreak up the game?" 
 
 The Creole flinched. " Mr. Murray "he had begun 
 to withdraw toward the inn "I thing you muz per 
 ceive tha z not easy to choose. I will tell you. Like 
 
 285 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 you say, yo seff, to Mr. Cazzleton, I will, eh I ll thing 
 abboud that." 
 
 "Oh, Lorrd ! Well, please remember that he and I 
 are booked to sail day after to-morrow morning." 
 
 Monsieur s arms dropped heavily. " Rosalie an* me 
 the same ! We are book sinz biffo breakfaz ." 
 
 "The devil!" exclaimed Murray. 
 
 The Creole bridled. "You inuz pardon me if I 
 don t un erstan that egs-<?Zam-ation in thiz conneg- 
 tion." 
 
 "Forgive it ! But this one thing you must do " 
 
 "Yes ? Must ? Ow is that ? Must ? " 
 
 " Lorrd ! Must, nay, perhaps, or what not ! Only, 
 tell y r daughter all this talk before we meet on deck. 
 Man, will you? Or will you not?" 
 
 "Well, eh, ad the present she s got " 
 
 Both men observed, down the harbor, a forlorn- 
 looking inbound steamer flying the British flag as she 
 crept into view. "She s naught," said the Scot. "A 
 tub in distress. We re sailing everything these days 
 that can work a pump. At present y r daughter, you 
 were remarking 
 
 "My daughter I cann tell her those thing now, 
 biccause that migraine. But there are yet two days. 
 I will, eh I will thing also abboud that." 
 
 286 
 
XLV 
 RENEGADES REAPPEAR 
 
 A LETTER from the judge, delayed by the island cen 
 sor, reached Philip s hand in the afternoon of that same 
 day. That day, I mean, in which the Scot had prom 
 ised Philip, and monsieur had later promised the Scot, 
 to " think about " that private matter whose need to 
 be thought about eclipsed all news of intercontinental 
 diplomacy and of war s nearest and farthest havoc. 
 
 This same might be said of a letter from grand mere 
 to Rosalie. Each missive bore its bit of tidings, worthy 
 of more note than the preoccupations of that day, or 
 the next, or the next, could quite make room for. 
 Rosalie s bit had its source in the western hemisphere, 
 Philip s in the eastern, as follows: 
 
 In New York those friends of Rosalie with whom she 
 and grand mere had gone yachting in the Gulf the sum 
 mer before, who subsequently, in New Orleans, at the 
 Smiths reception, had turned out to be cousins of Mrs. 
 Holden, and who lately had shown Rosalie pleasant at 
 tentions during her search for a New York entrance to 
 a world career, had announced the coming marriage of 
 a daughter. Her father, said grand mere s letter, had 
 sent the college mother and daughter a fat check for all 
 expenses of travel and dress incidental to their atten- 
 
 287 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 dance at the wedding. Rosalie was, pensively, glad 
 for the Holdens sake. 
 
 The item in the letter to Philip was from Port Said ! 
 It had found its way under the Mediterranean and At 
 lantic, and over much of America, to the judge, in New 
 Orleans. Bewildering ! Not the journey but the tid 
 ings. How difficult to realize, how impossible to doubt, 
 and how strangely it broke in upon this heavy state 
 of affairs in Bermuda in Louisiana. Philip sat and 
 thought about it, stood and thought about it, walked, 
 stood again, sat again and thought about it. 
 
 "Why why why, auntie, auntie!" 
 
 So he would have been saying at intervals still as he 
 stood with his Scotch friend on a deck of the departing 
 Bermuda-New York steamer, painfully aware of the 
 Durels, close by, had not the attention of both pairs 
 been diverted by the coming aboard, from a lighter, 
 of a dozen or so men and women, refugees from Mex 
 ico. Some were Latins, some Britons. They were 
 bound across the ocean, but compelled to leave the 
 leaking freighter which had brought them thus far and 
 still lay moored in the harbor. 
 
 A lighter bearing passengers to one s own ship is al 
 ways of overwhelming interest even when no face 
 looks up from it which one remembers to have seen 
 before. Now the ship moved, the emptied lighter 
 dropped away, and after an hour or two the steamer 
 left astern the last intricacies of the Bermudian reefs, 
 dropped her pilot and headed for Sandy Hook. 
 
 Among the refugees was one, a woman, who, at a 
 288 
 
RENEGADES REAPPEAR 
 
 single upward glance as she came aboard knew Philip 
 and would have been known by him if his eyes had not 
 just then been fixed, as she noted, on the Creole girl. 
 This girl she early sought out on the promenade-deck. 
 
 Some vestige of Rosalie s headache doubtless bur 
 dened her yet, for neither blue sky nor rainbow sea 
 could tempt her from a reclining-chair behind monsieur 
 and the Scot, who stood at the rail discussing the war 
 so interestingly that others edged up to hear. One 
 who came into a corner of Rosalie s eye close by her 
 was a middle-aged woman somewhat made up, some 
 what overdressed, and, in spirit, somewhat weather- 
 beaten. On a witty though grave reply of monsieur 
 to the Scot she venturingly commented, in undertone 
 and in pure French, to Rosalie. 
 
 "True !" she said exultantly, "true ! Ah, I too am 
 for the Allies, body and soul ! And you ? " 
 
 In the same tongue Rosalie confessed she was. 
 
 "Is not is not that your father; the one whom he 
 in the Scotch cap just now called Durel?" 
 
 "He is," Rosalie was proud to admit. 
 
 "To hear him called that name, Durel ah, how 
 it startled me !" the stranger said. 
 
 Rosalie smiled. " Just the name ? " she asked. " And 
 a name so common?" But suddenly another name, 
 merely brought to mind, startled her half from her 
 chair. 
 
 The woman met her gaze with sad eyes that soon 
 dropped to the deck, and spoke dejectedly: "Durel i 
 my name also by marriage to your cousin Zephin 
 
 289 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Rosalie caught her breath, but a passing of deck- 
 walkers, and a glance from her father, recalled her to 
 herself and she outwardly relaxed. "Do you think/ 
 she asked aloud in English, "the Allies will win?" 
 
 The woman sank into a chair at her side, responding 
 in English: "Whether they win or lose, we are on our 
 way to join them" she reverted to French "if only 
 we can get by New York." 
 
 "You mean that Zephire is here? With you? 
 Aboard?" 
 
 The woman s voice grew softly intense. "Mademoi 
 selle, yes; and yet, no. Please do not speak his name. 
 He is here, but he is another man." 
 
 Mentally Rosalie kept her poise, but her frame 
 trembled to the knees and she choked as she said: 
 "You are Madame Philomele." 
 
 "Again both yes and no. I was !" Tears filled the 
 clairvoyante s eyes, and her mouth twitched emotion 
 ally. "Mademoiselle, we have been through purga 
 tory." 
 
 "Mexico?" 
 
 "Yes, but also worse. Our purgatory was not a 
 land or people or any visible condition." 
 
 "But at any rate you have come through." 
 
 "Ah, once more yes and no. We have passed 
 through, and through, and through, yet are passing 
 through still. That is why we would go to the war. 
 We go for mercy, of course, but we go also for penance, 
 glad thus to cover some of our sins." The tears ran 
 down. The weeper owned up to them by a smile of 
 
 290 
 
RENEGADES REAPPEAR 
 
 heroic candor while masking them from promenaders 
 by adjustments of her Spanish veil. 
 
 If the pose, the words, were not genuine they were 
 capital acting, thought Rosalie, ashamed of her mis 
 giving, which the woman seemed to discern. 
 
 "Also," said Philomele, "we need to prove, even to 
 ourselves, the reality of our repentance. Ah, if you 
 or your father could see Zephire you would 
 
 "No-no-no/ whispered the girl, "my father cannot !" 
 
 "You mistake me!" Philomele hurried to reply. 
 " Zephire does not desire it. But, ah, mademoiselle, he 
 and I are in a terribly narrow place." 
 
 Rosalie shook her head. "If you mean for 
 money 
 
 "Oh, money ! we have plenty. But we had hoped 
 to go direct to France. Now this change of ships, 
 taking in New York, brings a most unlooked-for peril 
 not to us alone, bodily, but to something which has 
 become to him as I know it is to you and your father 
 dearer than bodily safety. You understand?" 
 
 "For my father s sake I wish it were the honor of 
 his injured name, the name of Durel." 
 
 "That is my meaning. And that makes our peril 
 your father s and yours in all but the bodily part, and 
 that is the least to care for after Mexico." 
 
 291 
 
XLVI 
 SUPPLYING A MISSING LINE 
 
 "Is this peril/ murmured Rosalie, "the police?" 
 "Of New York! We are in torture lest you and 
 your father be made partners in our shame. At quar 
 antine a man will say : Sir, despite your full beard and 
 Spanish name, good morning, Zephire Durel. Then 
 to your father: Odd coincidence, sir, that you, of the 
 same name, kin, city, late of the same bank, are here 
 on the same ship at the same time/ And then 
 the newspapers of forty-eight States : Durel, Durel, 
 Durel ! " Philomele lifted her eyes, sighed musically, 
 and dropped her arms. 
 
 "Oh," said Rosalie, leaving her seat, "they won t 
 know him. I, myself, looking down into the lighter, 
 failed to discover him." 
 
 The clairvoyante rose with her. "Mademoiselle," 
 she said, "is not a detective." 
 
 "True, nor yet a good sailor. I must " 
 
 The father interrupted. "Ah, daughter, going in?" 
 "Yes, papa, or, rather, no; I will try a few steps up 
 and down, just yonder, in your view." 
 
 Both men scanned the girl s companion, whom they 
 had never before seen; but her make-up seemed merely 
 Spanish-American. Her smile, overbright from over 
 use, disarmed them and they resumed their converse. 
 
 292 
 
SUPPLYING A MISSING LINE 
 
 The two women chose a short beat round and round 
 the stern of the ship, appearing and reappearing to the 
 watchful parent, who at each return glimpsed them over 
 the Scot s shoulder, and by and by over Philip s, when 
 he came and joined the debate. 
 
 "Dear mademoiselle!" the clairvoyante pleaded on, 
 "my terror for Zephire, and his and mine for you and 
 your father and for the Durel name is that detec 
 tives will not have to detect ! A certain passenger will 
 know him and point him out to them I" 
 
 Whom she meant was clear. At every emergence 
 into view of the three debaters she turned short to 
 avoid the risk of a backward glance from Philip. But 
 Rosalie was careful to generalize. " Oh, how could any 
 man do such a thing to any man ?" she softly cried. 
 
 "Mademoiselle, there are few who, so placed, could 
 refrain. He knows nothing of Zepnire s marriage or 
 changed life, but regards him only as pardon ! a 
 rival in love, a mortal foe, a fugitive from what they 
 call justice." 
 
 Rosalie hesitated, put to her best to choose what to 
 say that should be neither too much nor too little for 
 the concealment of her own heart. Then : 
 
 "How do you know detectives will be there?" 
 
 "Ah, nowadays they are everywhere. If Mr. Cas- 
 tleton" the name was spoken with a touch of esteem; 
 to advance Philip s cause was part of the woman s 
 strategy "if he spies Zephire he knows as well as we 
 that just here on board is the wireless." 3 
 
 "Oh, you can keep Zephire out of sight." 
 293 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Philomele shook her head. "Those same eyes I 
 would hide him from" again the tone of esteem 
 "would recognize me. They saw me once; that is 
 enough. " 
 
 "But I can hide you." 
 
 "Angel ! Nay, those eyes you know them " 
 
 "Only as good, normal eyes." 
 
 "Ah, you know better! Those eyes will count us 
 thirteen refugees again, as I saw them do when we 
 were on the lighter." [A falsehood.] "So counting, 
 they will say two missing ! and will know at once." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Then the wireless/ New York will do the rest." 
 
 "Unbelievable!" laughed Rosalie. "He couldn t 
 stoop to such an act. If he could, madame, certain 
 things never would have happened as they have. I 
 am free to praise him. He is no longer in my train." 
 
 Philomele winced with chagrin. Whether she was 
 truly married or only hoping to be so, she believed this 
 girl to be still the main obstacle between her and her 
 quite unregenerate Zephire. "Ah," she said, "what a 
 heaven you have thrown away !" 
 
 "Say, rather, lost, madame." 
 
 "Ah, never, never ! Tell me the truth. Most of it 
 I know already, but this amazes me, clairvoyante 
 though I am. Tell me ! Who knows but I can help 
 you or him to whom I owe so much?" 
 
 "You?" came the overprompt challenge. "To 
 him?" 
 
 "Aha!" thought Philomele, but replied artlessly: 
 294 
 
SUPPLYING A MISSING LINE 
 
 " It was through him I got my Bibi ! My Zephire ! " 
 
 The note of love triumphant wrung Rosalie s heart. 
 So Philomele designed. "I ll make you hunger for 
 him," she said in her mind, "lest you yet make me 
 hunger for Zephire." 
 
 Rosalie s response was quiet. "How can you help 
 me, when I cannot believe in the smallest part of all 
 your spells, incantations, charms, hand-reading, card- 
 reading " 
 
 "Never mind them. Believe only that the unravel 
 ling of countless love troubles has made me wise. Tell 
 me the story, what little I do not know." 
 
 It was soon told, to the end, to the deadlock, and in 
 silence the pair walked on to and fro. Then, venturing 
 a smile, the woman spoke: "Could a love tangle be 
 more typically Creole !" 
 
 But she was quickly grave again as Rosalie retorted : 
 "It is not merely a love tangle." 
 
 "My faith! It is a" Philomele made eyes as big 
 as the words "a Gordian knot!" 
 
 "And of how many, many cords!" insisted the girl. 
 
 "So many," said the other, "that it must, must, must 
 be cut ! Yet who shall cut it ? " 
 
 "Not my papa ! And assuredly not I !" 
 
 "Assuredly not !" said the woman, while she thought, 
 "We ll see. We ll see." "Mademoiselle," she added, 
 "there is a line missing from your story." 
 
 "Which you can supply?" 
 
 "Yes, this: To one good, fair person " 
 
 " One ? Good ? Fair ? Rosalie felt an acute alarm. 
 295 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle. To her this deadlock offers a 
 chance of happiness; a chance so well, so plausible 
 that her heart has fed on it " 
 
 " Her heart ? I did not quite 
 
 " Her poor heart has lived on it nearly a year." 
 
 "Who how have you learned of that?" 
 
 "I can only say, not by clairvoyance." 
 
 Rosalie laughed. "Well, if that should be happiness 
 for him also, I too should be pleased. But who is that 
 one so good and fair ? Is she also rich ? " 
 
 "No, poor. She is Miss Emily Holden." 
 
 "My faith!" Rosalie whispered. "Does she think 
 he is rich, or is she too deep in- -eh ? " 
 
 "As deep as the sea under us right here." 
 
 "Ha-ha! And he with her ?" 
 
 The woman shook her head in solemn negative. 
 
 "Oh, then ! ha, ha ! in that case " 
 
 "Mademoiselle, remember ! When one of our sex 
 good, fair, demure is as deep in as that, and the man 
 is the right man, in the end, unless a rival plays the 
 game better than she, she will trap him; she cannot 
 help but be a trap; tis her human right. But how far 
 we wander from our subject, while this danger to Ze- 
 phire grows with every tick of the clock, and you, you 
 alone, can save us!" 
 
 "You mean I can can intercede?" 
 
 " Ah, if you would ! If you will ! I know you would 
 rather he were any one else alive; but oh, for sweet 
 mercy and your father and the Durel name if you 
 will! and at once!" 
 
 296 
 
SUPPLYING A MISSING LINE 
 
 They passed beyond their beat and stood by the rail, 
 with Rosalie in sight of any of the three men if any 
 chose to glance their way. Said the woman tenderly, 
 in English: "You have a headache." 
 
 " Twill pass. I suppose tis the ship s motion." 
 "And you will do us, all, that great mercy?" 
 "Leave me here," murmured the girl. "I will I 
 will think about that. Quick, he s coming." 
 
 297 
 
XLVII 
 "COME BACK," SAYS SHE 
 
 MADEMOISELLE lingered at the rail alone. 
 
 On the other side of the boat porpoises were playing 
 and passengers were crowding the rails of two decks to 
 see them, but she had often seen porpoises, and pas 
 sengers. 
 
 In full sight of her father she could afford to loiter 
 thus apart, although to do so was a palpable challenge 
 to Philip. So be it ! He should have this chance to 
 set matters straight if they could be set straight. 
 And here he came. 
 
 He had left her father and the Scot debating and 
 was half-way to her. He had given himself an idle air 
 and sauntering gait, but they proved unlucky. Mod 
 estly a small, refined-looking male stranger escorting a 
 wife and daughter, large golden blondes, halted him. 
 
 "Ciel!" thought Rosalie, "if passengers would 
 only 1" 
 
 But to have a large blonde daughter on one s hands 
 is a desperate situation, and out of a chronic despair 
 the father and mother clutched at this auspicious 
 straw. With bashful fervor the matron begged leave 
 to ask a question or two about New Orleans, whose 
 next Carnival they had hoped to see. How great was 
 the danger of New Orleans being swept away if its 
 
 298 
 
"COME BACK," SAYS SHE 
 
 "lev-ee" should break while the Mississippi was high? 
 And how do you pronounce T-c-h-o-u-p-i-t-o-u-l-a-s 
 Street ? And were they detaining him ? And (this by 
 the husband, in very full voice) what was a Creole, 
 anyhow? And pardon! wouldn t Philip sit down 
 with them? 
 
 When he gratefully declined, the mother told, to him 
 and her daughter as one, an ancient tale of Creoles, 
 from some magazine, she wasn t sure which, by an 
 author whose name she hadn t noticed. She cared lit 
 tle who wrote a thing if it was only interesting ! Just 
 there Rosalie went by, granting Philip a bow and smile 
 of transcendent sweetness, which yet cast a hint of 
 arraignment that both flattered and stung. She paused 
 a moment between her father and Murray, exchanged 
 pleasantries, and went on to her room. The Scot 
 turned again to Mr. Durel : 
 
 "Evidently you ve talked it over with her." 
 "With her, no. To her, yes. She won t talk." 
 "How d you interrpret that?" 
 "That I interpret that so sure as our negotiation 
 let Cazzleton in she ll leave him out. Even if she don t 
 want she s goin to feel compel !" 
 
 "And if we leave him out will t be vice versa?" 
 "No-o, my dear sir ! Vice versa, no-o !" 
 The bugle rang for lunch. No Rosalie. But at din 
 ner she reappeared, beautifully dressed and, though 
 pensive, most fair to look on. She sat next her father, 
 facing Murray. At Murray s elbow Philip faced her 
 father. Next beyond Philip was the blonde girl, with 
 
 299 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 her small father beyond her, and her large mother op 
 posite, close to monsieur. The matron began the con 
 versation by a word to Philip which gave Rosalie a 
 grain of comfort: 
 
 "We haven t seen you since you left us at lunch 
 except at a distance, seeming to be looking for some 
 thing you d lost?" She twinkled. 
 
 "I must have caught the look from those refugees." 
 "You have been with them?" Rosalie asked him. 
 "Yes, for a moment, once or twice." 
 "How many of them have you counted ?" 
 "Why, I" what an odd question! "it hasn t oc 
 curred to me to count them," he said, and for the first 
 time the thought struck him Zephire ! 
 
 She saw it strike, saw it widen through his mind as 
 his glance lingered on her inquiringly. She answered 
 with a smile. The Scot saw the smile. The blonde 
 girl saw it. Both saw that it had little to do with 
 refugees and that Rosalie cared as little who saw, if 
 Philip but understood. "Come back," said the smile, 
 and waned; waned only that he might grasp its reach 
 and limitations, then came again and said once more, 
 "Come back." 
 
 When the repast was over and the seven mounted a 
 stair he and she came side by side and Philip, with his 
 aunt in mind, remarked: "I ve been wanting, for some 
 time, to tell you a strange bit of news." 
 
 "Zephire!" she thought to herself. "Some time," 
 she smilingly repeated, "but by what measure? Min 
 utes, hours, days, weeks ?" 
 
 300 
 
"COME BACK/ SAYS SHE 
 
 "Centuries," Philip said, on the lover s key before 
 he knew it. But she answered lightly: 
 
 "Ah, news so old must be indeed strange." 
 
 "I fancy you ll call it so. I d like" the tone soft 
 ened "to tell you alone, out on deck." 
 
 She replied as softly: "Not now. But by and by, if 
 you should want to promenade 
 
 He flashed assent, and as he left her, "Come back/ 
 said her smile a third time. 
 
 To frown down a sturdy elation while he smoked with 
 the other three men taxed his best powers, and the tax 
 was doubled when on his return she, still with the 
 blondes, accepted his invitation before it was half 
 uttered, and started with him around the deck, alone. 
 
 301 
 
XLVIII 
 "I COME," SAYS HE 
 
 THEY made the circuit but once. Those who walked 
 for wager or digestion overtook them so often that 
 they dropped out of the running and stood by the rail, 
 quite to themselves, while their hearts beat faster than 
 any tread on the deck, and while, in distant view, the 
 three older men and the two blondes placidly criticised 
 the world and its war from their steamer-chairs. 
 
 Soon Rosalie s tone altered. "Your very strange 
 news, what is it about ? Can I guess ? " 
 
 "Try ! I d like to make all I can of it." 
 
 " Tis about people?" 
 
 "Yes, especially about two." 
 
 "And I know them?" 
 
 "You know one." 
 
 "Zephire," she thought again. 
 
 "You never saw the other," he added. 
 
 "Philomele," she thought, and said: "I know! A 
 couple just very lately married." 
 
 "Yes, or presently to be married." 
 
 "And already on their way to other lands for works 
 of mercy, of healing?" 
 
 "Yes, of mercy, of healing. You guess well." 
 
 "The likeness is so plain ! But you you are willing 
 to let them go?" 
 
 302 
 
"I COME/ SAYS HE 
 
 "Why, I mustn t be too strenuously unwilling." 
 "Then you ll not attempt to stop them?" The 
 query, unless a mere pleasantry, was almost a request. 
 "Them?" asked Philip. "I? Stop them?" He 
 glanced drolly about him. "Why, how should I 
 begin?" 
 
 " I don t know. By wireless ? To New York ? " 
 "Why, how comical ! I can t imagine it." 
 "Mr. Castle ton, promise me you ll not do it." 
 "Promise you?" The lover stood bewildered. 
 Then abruptly he said: "Mademoiselle" once more it 
 thrilled them both for him to call her that "after all, 
 you re guessing wrong ! Wrong thing, wrong persons, 
 wrong side of the world !" 
 
 "No, I m guessing right. Are they not on a ship ?" 
 "As well as I know, yes." 
 "Ah, well as you know ! Is it not this ship ? " 
 "Mercy, no ! They re half round the globe from us. 
 It s auntie I m speaking of! She s about to be by 
 now is married ! to a missionary physician in the 
 party she sailed with. Auntie! Can you grasp it?" 
 "Assuredly I never could have guessed that." 
 " And marrying for love ! Writes us that love is not 
 solely, or even chiefly, for the young." 
 
 "She is right. It is not. I don t know if it is for 
 the young at all; they make such terrible mistakes. 
 Tis better to wait till one is old. Yes, love is for the 
 old, and I find the cruellest thing in the world is for 
 the old to be disappointed in love ! Well, my guess 
 was wrong. Now you, guess what my guess was." 
 
 303 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Mademoiselle, you ve all but told me. You 
 guessed that I knew that Zephire Durel and Philomele 
 were on this boat. Now I do know. Do I not ?" 
 
 Rosalie sighed. "You would have found it out. 
 Twas best to tell you, in time to make you that re 
 quest which you have not yet " 
 
 "Granted? No. I want it withdrawn." 
 
 "With ah! Ah-h! And why so, withdrawn?" 
 
 " Because I will not believe that you, you, could even 
 dream of me as a public informer on a private enemy." 
 
 So had she herself spurned the imputation, for him, 
 to Philomele. Now, though with eyelids dropped, she 
 said: "Only one thing could give me so bad a dream." 
 
 "And that one thing is " 
 
 "Your manner of thought about public duty. I 
 saw that when you was on grand jury. Tis a very 
 unique manner, you know?" 
 - "Pardon, no, I do not. But go on, please." 
 
 " You might not choose, yet still you might feel duty 
 bound not to let any private relation stop you from 
 giving up a lawbreaker to the law." 
 
 "True! I might feel I did once, you know that 
 no private affection or antipathy should stop me. But 
 I might feel it again, yet not lift a finger. Thank 
 heaven, no more under this British flag than under our 
 stars and stripes, is any private citizen, as such, in 
 duty bound to do, unasked, anything below the dig 
 nity of a private gentleman. Now, is there anything 
 unique in that?" 
 
 "Ah, no. No" a sidewise archness "that s only 
 304 
 
"I COME/ SAYS HE 
 
 unique to come from you; it sounds so much like other 
 men, even like papa. But, anyhow, this morning, you 
 saw that woman, walking with me?" 
 "Yes, I recognize now who she was." 
 
 "And she may tell Zephire you ll not lift ?" 
 
 "She may. Do I understand they re going to the 
 fighting-line, in France?" 
 
 "Yes, he s reformed, Mr. Castleton. Both have re 
 pented everything! That s pretty good, eh?" 
 "Truly good, if they can make it good." 
 "And you don t expect that?" 
 "Oh, if to expect were as easy as to wish !" 
 "Or," chimed Rosalie, "if to reform as easy as to 
 expect ! Papa says to reform is not just to cross the 
 street, tis a long climb up-hill." 
 
 Philip was gladdened. "That s my notion. I wish 
 you wouldn t find my other notions so strange." 
 
 "Ah, if that was only I who find them so, or papa 
 and I. But that s everybody. Yonder in New Or 
 leans they call you, even shall I tell you? un " 
 
 "I know; unnatural. As they mean it I am so. 
 Mademoiselle, can t we walk now, and talk differ 
 ently?" 
 
 305 
 
XLIX 
 CASHIER AND CLAIRVOYANTS 
 
 PROMENADERS for speed and health were all gone in, 
 and these two could saunter without being jostled. 
 They chose their beat around the after half of the ship. 
 
 "Mademoiselle/ Philip resumed, "we hear of heart- 
 to-heart discussions." 
 
 "Yes," was the eager reply, "and still we can have 
 a mind-to-mind one." 
 
 "Can t we have both in one?" asked Philip, but got 
 no response. A light seemed to be blown out; he began 
 to feel his way. "Now, what do you fancy they mean 
 by unnatural ? If they mean that my social theories 
 are not controlled by my natural affections, for exam 
 ple, they re right; they re not so controlled." 
 
 "No!" said the girl, with secret bitterness. "I be 
 lieve you! Now, explain me that." In fact, she 
 wanted no explanation; the request was only, so to 
 speak, her heart s wire entanglements, which Philip, as 
 weary of this attack as he was hungry for another, 
 would gladly have found a way round but was blind 
 enough to see none. 
 
 "Why, we, you and I and all civilized society, are 
 extra-natural, aren t we? Our natural affections, not 
 excepting even love, the love of lovers, are a highly 
 
 306 
 
CASHIER AND CLAIRVOYANTE 
 
 artificial product, and the artificial of to-day becomes 
 the natural of to-morrow. To my mind that s the 
 highest meaning of progress." 
 "Yes, I think so! Goon!" 
 "Oh, please, no ! I ve something better to say !" 
 "Not yet; by and by; first explain me that. I m 
 absorbed ! You ought to publish it. You could make 
 that into a beautiful romance!" 
 
 The lover all but writhed. Was this what he had 
 been smiled back for? He got out something to the 
 effect that wherever there was such progress there 
 would be those to whom it must seem unnatural. 
 "Ah, I see ! In Dixie we are too natural." 
 "Don t make me say that. In Dixie we are merely 
 not extra-natural enough. We cling too fondly to last 
 century s edition of our nature; clinging to it by our 
 affections when we can no longer hang on by our rea 
 sons. Isn t that partly what makes us Southerners so 
 welcome in the most modern social circles? We re 
 antiques." 
 
 "Mr. Castle ton, you are satirical on our poor Dixie." 
 "No, I love her too well to be that." 
 "You ve studied that question pretty hard." 
 "I ve fought, in my mind, a war, for its true answer." 
 "They are very harsh, those battles in the mind." 
 "My battles haven t been all in the mind. I still 
 have a right to say that much of the past. I loved. 
 You know that. And my love demanded of me that 
 true answer, as if with a deadly weapon at my head, 
 my heart; head and heart by turns." 
 
 307 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "But now you find that all of the past!" The 
 secret bitterness was back again. 
 
 "Don t tempt me! It s of the past only by com 
 pact." 
 
 "Such love of country you had ! and of city !" 
 "Had ? I hadn t half what I have now. Mademoi 
 selle, how many things in this world grow by conflict !" 
 " Y yes, by by conflict. That s true, very many." 
 "And none more than love. Do you know that?" 
 "Yes, I have learn I have observed that." 
 "Well, I want you to know too I wish your father 
 also might know with how much better a love I love 
 my New Orleans my Dixie my America since that 
 conflict within me which has sentenced to prison for 
 life the one love I must not tell. I ve a right to say 
 that much, this once for all; the right of the condemned 
 if no other. Have I not?" His last allowable word 
 was said. He waited. 
 
 As the two stood face to face in the starlight, speak 
 ing in slow restraint, Rosalie s thought ran fast, deep, 
 close to his. With an assayer s nicety, though with 
 inward trembling, she weighed each word, each accent, 
 of his lips as well as of her own. 
 
 "Once for all?" she repeated after him. "Ah, yes. 
 Yes, I suppose." But meanwhile her silent thought 
 demanded: "Why this parade of the one love he must 
 not tell ? Was there another love, love of another, 
 which by and by, elsewhere, he might tell ? And why 
 this once for all and this right of the condemned ? 
 Were they designed to smother down the Scot s wait- 
 
 308 
 
CASHIER AND CLAIRVOYANTE 
 
 ing proposition and to add her dismissal of him, Philip, 
 to his own. renunciation of her? If so, with what in 
 view ? With whom in view ? That one so good and 
 fair of whom the clairvoyante had spoken and whom 
 she now thought she remembered as having been the 
 whole past year a hovering possibility ?" 
 
 Abruptly, half laughing, she sighed: "Mr. Castle ton, 
 you know? you are very confusing." 
 
 "What, I? Now? Here?" 
 
 "Yes. Yes. Yes. You tell me you have some 
 thing you can t tell. Well, then, even once for all, 
 you can t tell it. But I, I can t tell if that s so or no. 
 If I could know what that is, I could know if you can 
 tell it or no. But, that way it is, whether you can tell 
 it or whether you can t, I can t tell; that s exclusively 
 for you to conclude. Well, that s pretty con confus 
 ing, is it not ? " 
 
 Her own words gave her a panic. She had over 
 stepped ! If, in the face of this palpable lure, the lover 
 who was even now replying should still keep the 
 silence he had pledged, she was forever shamed. Con 
 trariwise, if as every word now coming from him 
 threatened he should so forget himself as to crash 
 through his pledge with a new avowal of his passion, 
 new proffer of his suit, there was no refuge for her 
 feminine self-regard but to put him off, though to put 
 him off now since that hour with the clairvoyante 
 was the farthest thing from her choice. Oh, for some 
 petty, saving interruption! None came. Philip was 
 saying: 
 
 309 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Mademoiselle, it s far worse than confusing. It s 
 suffocation. I am trying, have been for days I be 
 lieve we are all trying to breathe and live and be our 
 selves in a vacuum. Is that clear ? Not even that ? 
 Then then do you ask me do you give me leave 
 to explain?" 
 
 The girl s heart leapt, but her head shook gravely 
 while she replied: "No. No, I think that s something 
 I can t ask, neither give leave. I am sure that s for 
 you to conclude." 
 
 " It is ? You say so ? Then without any one s ask 
 ing or any one s leave, I ll do it." But just then the 
 saving interruption came and she used it, murmuring: 
 
 "Wait a moment till those are gone." 
 
 Quietly, together, Zephire and Philomele stepped by. 
 As they passed Philomele dropped a soft good evening 
 to Rosalie. Philip looked after them as they drew 
 near M. Durel and the Scot. Close in front of those 
 two, with evident reluctance on Philomele s part, they 
 stopped and addressed Murray. The air behind the 
 ex-cashier bore a taint of drink. Philip and Rosalie 
 watched them a second or two and then followed. As 
 they reached the four Zephire was asking, while mon 
 sieur ignored his outstretched hand: 
 
 "You don t reco nize me, cousin Alphonse? You 
 have forgot your rillation?" 
 
 Monsieur solemnly shook his head. "Mmm-no," he 
 said with an evenness of tone that thrilled every ear. 
 * Tis you are forgetting. I am not yo cousin. I am 
 not even acquaint with any man of yo description." 
 
 310 
 
CASHIER AND CLAIRVOYANTE 
 
 Philomele, pulling at her companion s arm with a 
 firm but vain increase of weight, cast Rosalie a be 
 seeching glance. Philip stepped forward. Zephire shot 
 him one ferocious gleam and returned his eyes to mon 
 sieur s. The Scot dropped his hands into his pocket 
 and leaned on the rail, ankles crossed. 
 
 "Papa," called the daughter, "that s not the old 
 Zephire, that s the new, repenting all his past life." 
 
 "Yes, I perceive, by the odor." The speaker s look 
 remained on the culprit, and as the latter rallied to 
 speak again, monsieur drew back a step and with a 
 palm upraised said as quietly as ever: "No. Go away. 
 On the instant. And if you come back near me aggain 
 on this ship, I give you my word as a gen leman, I ll 
 throw you into the sea." 
 
 Philomele drew hard on the intruder s arm. Philip 
 touched his shoulder. Zephire glared in his face. Had 
 that face betrayed one ray of kindness he would have 
 spurned the touch; but when without such betrayal 
 Philip said: "Let me walk a few steps with you," the 
 three went away together. 
 
 Murray was leaning against the rail as before when 
 Philip returned, asking: "Where are the Durels?" 
 
 "The Durels," replied the Scot, "have, as you say, 
 retired." 
 
 311 
 
L 
 
 NO FAULT O THE SCOT 
 
 DAYBREAK found the ship rolling over a wild sea, in 
 a cold rain and a whistling tempest. 
 
 At breakfast, at lunch, all day, all the evening, Ro 
 salie, most unwillingly, and with an impulse to scream 
 sticking ever in her throat, remained unseen. Only 
 men were on deck. The Scot played chess with mon 
 sieur, read war pamphlets, had a lengthy rubber at 
 pinochle with Philip, chatted with the blondes, watched 
 Philip play chess with monsieur, played Philip at 
 chess and agah. at pinochle, declined a game with 
 Zephire, and watched Zephire and Philip at chess, 
 where Zephire showed himself much the better man. 
 After dinner he and Philip wrote letters of courtesy 
 back to Bermuda. Next morning the boat steamed 
 up New York harbor in a rude, windy sunlight, with 
 every one on de , Rosalie between the blondes, Ze 
 phire and Philomele keeping a modest distance, and 
 every one saying ^ood-by to every one at every chance 
 encounter. 
 
 From the dock i le Durels went to one hotel, Murray 
 and Philip to ano her; but the four were pledged to 
 meet again at luncheon, which the Scot insisted, in 
 view of his bidding America farewell next day, should 
 be "on him." When they regathered they found the 
 
 312 
 
NO FAULT THE SCOT 
 
 table set for six, and while he explained that Philip 
 and he had stumbled upon the extra two in Broadway 
 buying their tickets for New Orleans, the two appeared. 
 They were, as Rosalie had instantly suspected, Mrs. 
 Holden and her daughter, returning from that wedding 
 in the railway president s family. 
 
 As the six sat down Rosalie asked the mother: 
 
 " By what train have you your tickets ? " 
 
 Both mother and daughter named it. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I think that s the be^t route, best 
 train. Tis by that we are going likewise." 
 
 "Well !" her father commented, "I m glad you ve at 
 laz make up yo mind." 
 
 "Ah, papa, on the contrary, from the begin 
 ning " 
 
 "But we don t know if now there is any space." 
 
 " There is," said the surprising Murray. "I ve made 
 free to bespeak it." Both Durels thanked him. 
 
 "And you?" inquired Rosalie of Philip, "not start 
 ing till to-morrow?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," Philip replied, "I go on,that same train." 
 And the Scot added for him: 
 
 "Bought his ticket on his way to the hotel." 
 
 "Oh! ... Yes?" She smiled across to the other 
 girl, saying, "What a remarkable promptitude !" while 
 " Collusion ! Collusion ! " whispere^ t her heart. 
 
 With less sparkle the other smil^l back and a bit 
 too hurriedly asked about sea-weather and ships, 
 islands and ocean gardens. Rosalie and Philip re* 
 sponded by turns, as if somehow jointly answerable. 
 
 313 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "But there will be two whole days on the train to 
 tell that/ said Rosalie and began to inquire about the 
 wedding: "Was it very, very pretty?" etc. 
 
 Before the six rose Mr. Murray, seated, began some 
 carefully unemotional remarks in farewell to America. 
 Wonderful America, he called it, as full of merits and 
 faults, almost, as his own Britain. He had found 
 many valued friends, he said, in his long stay; but this 
 small pick of them, made by happy chance on the eve 
 of parting these few and two more in far Louisiana 
 had with variances only of degree [a smile to the 
 missionaries] grown into his regard in a manner quite 
 peculiar. 
 
 The Holdens smiled so bashful a disclaimer that he 
 kindly repeated, "with variances only of degree." 
 
 Others, he went on to say, stood for themselves as 
 themselves, each his own human unit which was good. 
 So did these, emphatically, engagingly. But for some 
 reason which he felt no need to explain even to himself, 
 these stood also, pleasingly, tenderly, almost tragically, 
 for their city, their region, their social cult. "May 
 hap," he continued, "one cause of this is the cult itself; 
 a true devotion, felt by each of you in his own way, to 
 your wee bit o the worruld. But another cause is the 
 way these devotions have played not to say chafed 
 on one another." [A venturesome smile. Faint smiles 
 in reply, while Philip s heart and Rosalie s cried: "Get 
 through ! Have done ! "] 
 
 "The souls," he went on, "the souls one can most 
 rewardingly invest his regard in are those in and be- 
 
 314 
 
NO FAULT THE SCOT 
 
 tween which one sees more things occur eh eh 
 interiorly than exteriorly. But here I put off my shoes 
 from off my feet and drraw back. If so much explains 
 my fondness, allow it. If not, forgive it. Henceforth, 
 beyond the ocean, among peoples forever too busy 
 with their own shoes in the mud to give Dixie a 
 pawssing thought, I shall never hear, or see in prrint, 
 a mention of any one of you, without very definite and 
 arrdent good wishes for you all and for y r city and 
 State and all that those signify to you. Ay, the same 
 will happen, the same solicitudes arise, though the 
 mention be not of any one of you, but only of y r city 
 or y r South." 
 
 There was a pause. M. Durel began to respond, but 
 the Scot drew breath to resume. Both apologized. 
 "No," said Murray, "after you and Castleton if the 
 spirit moves him. I love the lawst worrud and crave 
 it here." 
 
 The Creole spoke quietly, briefly. It was not in his 
 temperament, he said, to tell a friend his virtues to 
 his face, nor to express more affection in words than in 
 deeds. Yet he must reciprocate all the sentiment so 
 kindly offered him and his by the parting voyager. 
 He wished him a safe journey, a delivered country, 
 health, prosperity, long life, and a good memory for 
 absent friends, who would remember him always, ten 
 derly. 
 
 Philip said he would be pleased to offer every sen 
 tence of Mr. Durel s as his own, save one. He wished 
 jio friend would withhold expressions of affection from 
 
 315 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 him, waiting to put them into deeds. " I don t ask for 
 them in words; but between words and deeds there s a 
 wide middle ground, well known to every true heart, 
 and I d ask my friend to put them there, where also 
 he ll find mine. Just now, helpless as to deeds, I say 
 only, Mr. Murray, that you re as good a friend as any 
 man ought to want, and that there are two of my name 
 who prize you accordingly and wish you, in all your 
 ways, all your days, God-speed." 
 
 The Scot replied: "Tis just between us four, with 
 apologies to these" the Holdens "for a veiled allu 
 sion dark to them. As we four may chawnce never 
 again to sit down privately together I want to say, in 
 most affectionate prrotest ay, with an aching heart 
 that our one piece of financial business stands un 
 finished it may be through nobody s fault, but cerr- 
 tainly, cerrtainly through no fault o mine . . . I ve 
 done." He rose. 
 
 All stood up. The Holdens said good-by first. 
 Monsieur followed. "That s right, as you say, * he 
 admitted, extending his hand, and Philip, with a like 
 affirmation, offered his. " Finance," said Rosalie, smil 
 ing to the Holdens, "we leave that for the men !" and 
 with a last gleam of approval to the Scot dropped a 
 parting hand into his. But he held it so long that she 
 spoke again. "And your steamer, to-morrow," she 
 asked, "is the ?" 
 
 "The Lusitania" 
 
 316 
 
LI 
 
 SOUTHWARD ALL 
 
 ALL night the southbound train had been on its way. 
 
 Now the mad wheels still smoothly rushed and sang 
 underfoot, and the ever-changing spring landscape 
 swung majestically by and past into or out of the 
 memory in a shimmering mid-forenoon. 
 
 From a smoking-compartment where for an hour or 
 so he had been lounging with M. Durel and other 
 passengers Philip came down the aisle of the Pullman 
 to offer the first salutations of the day to the ladies. 
 The Holdens were seated somewhat forward of Rosalie, 
 who was buried in a book, and the three were having 
 the car quite to themselves. Rosalie was not in her 
 own section. She had chosen to sit where she would 
 be the last one reached by Philip when he should come 
 visiting. 
 
 He paused beside the college women, expressing 
 hopes for their comfort, and presently the mother, 
 while lightly mentioning a bit of newspaper war com 
 ment, cleared a seat for him, and he sank to its arm 
 only. 
 
 One s eye did not have to leave one s book to see that 
 much; which, after all, proved nothing. What Rosalie 
 needed to see, what her heart ached to know, one thing 
 
 317 
 
LOVERS OF LOttfSIANA 
 
 she was on this train to learn if she could, was how far 
 it might be yonder girl, yonder strange new-found fac 
 tor in her distresses, that was keeping this "financial 
 business" unfinished. Should that fair one turn out 
 to be the obstacle, or an obstacle, unfinished the busi 
 ness must remain forever. Not even for grand mere s 
 sake could it be otherwise. 
 
 And how cruelly plausible it began to seem, that this 
 fair, good girl, helplessly letting Philip drift into her 
 heart, might have drifted into his as well. So often is 
 a wounded heart an open one. Two souls near akin 
 in many ways and suffering like isolations for like be 
 liefs how easily may they be drawn to each other. 
 Also, to such, what a wide bridge for the interchange 
 of mutual regards may be any discussion of even the 
 largest public affairs on their moral side. Who should 
 know that better than she, Rose Durel "since a 
 year?" 
 
 With eyes in the book she easily heard told what the 
 newspaper had said, having read it herself an hour 
 earlier: That this European cataclysm was an awful 
 warning against the risks hidden under the apparent 
 harmlessness of all merely national, imperial, or racial 
 standards of greatness or of a world s need. As easily 
 she heard Philip, trying to be as light as the ladies, say 
 that he liked that new word just coming into use, 
 "supernational." And when the Holdens begged him 
 to impress its value as a political touchstone on his dear 
 Dixie she was gratified to hear him reply that to him 
 Dixie s shortcomings though he believed them la- 
 
 318 
 
SOUTHWARD ALL 
 
 tently as dangerous as ever had never seemed so 
 small or pardonable as now in the day of this collision 
 and explosion of half a world s mistakes suddenly 
 grown colossal. 
 
 Gratifying it was also to see the two Northerners 
 take pleasure in both the speaker and his speech. Yet 
 there was comfort, too, in hearing them change the 
 subject to books. Had Philip read Mrs. Paleblue s 
 novel, "Brokenreed s Blunder"? He had skimmed it, 
 yes. But, no, he had not yet seen a certain statesman s 
 truly super-national volume, "The Way Out." 
 
 Odd ! That was the very book the solitary listener 
 was reading. Murray had left it with her father, and 
 its name had arrested her notice, not through its obvi 
 ous meaning, a way to abolish war, but because, all 
 the more fiercely since the Scot s farewell disclaimer, 
 "a way out" of their own unfinished business was what 
 her soul demanded of Philip Castleton. 
 
 Now, oddly again, here came papa himself, and be 
 fore she had quite realized how much she wished it so, 
 he had stopped beside Philip and joined the talk. Bet 
 ter yet, when Philip offered him his place on the arm 
 of the seat he accepted it, though the youth was left 
 standing. Ariel still better again: 
 
 "One of the things I like best in the book is its 
 warning to us," she heard Mrs. Holden say Emily 
 helping her through the quotation " not to trust too 
 much to the right machinery for doing things and not 
 to trust too much to doing things without the right 
 machinery/ " 
 
 319 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Happy hit! Philip and the daughter enjoyed it 
 heartily together overenjoyed it, as it seemed to 
 Rosalie while monsieur, less impressed, said, "Yes, 
 pretty good," and Rosalie s heart wailed again: "Get 
 through ! Have done !" 
 
 "Mr. Durel," persisted the mother, "in my belief 
 we ll begin to find a world s permanent peace only 
 when we begin to search for it with the agony of a 
 parent seeking a lost child. Don t you think so, Mr. 
 Castleton?" 
 
 What mattered Mr. Castleton s thought on that 
 point ? Yet Rosalie stopped reading while he replied : 
 "Oh, yes, I fancy we ve got to have both the agony 
 and the machinery." Saluting the group, he moved 
 onward to her. 
 
 How swiftly thought can run when the heart thinks 
 and the heart is a girl s. " At last, eh ? At last ! " said 
 hers as he drew near and while her eyes held to the 
 page. "And now, most likely, being a man and a 
 modernist, you think me not too much of a Creole to 
 let you settle settle an affair of the heart, with me, 
 Rosalie Durel, on a railroad-train ! But you see ? 
 Look at that undisturbed papa; he knows better !" 
 
 320 
 
LIT 
 THE OTHER GIRL 
 
 " GOOD-MORNING. May I sit with you? Thank 
 you. What s the book? Oh, The Way Out. We 
 were just discussing it." 
 
 "Yes? And you told them the mistakes of Dixie 
 are dangerous as ever? To tell that to Northerners, 
 and missionary Northerners I couldn t do that; I 
 would be too proud." 
 
 "Mademoiselle, isn t that one of our worst tempta 
 tions as to Dixie? I know it s mine." 
 
 "Yours? Ours? What temptation is that?" 
 
 "To make pride the spring of our devotion instead 
 of love. Pride of country isn t patriotism." 
 
 "Yes," she pensively said, with her eyes on the 
 closed book, "that s one of my temptations. That s 
 our worst mistake about many things besides Dixie." 
 
 Ah, what did that mean ? Philip gave her profile a 
 keen glance. " Don t love and pride," he asked, " often 
 seem to clash when really they don t?" 
 
 "Ah, I suppose. I don t like deep questions." 
 
 The train was stopping at the edge of a small city. 
 She looked out into the station. But when she turned 
 again her smile was very sweet. 
 
 He touched the volume. " The Way Out how 
 did that title strike you when you first saw it?" 
 
 321 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 She brightened. "You also? You noticed that ? I 
 didn t like it at all" 
 
 Philip was pleased. "I knew you wouldn t, when I 
 saw your father with the book." 
 
 "I chanced to be in your thought at that time?" 
 
 "H mm, chanced! But why didn t you like it? 
 It s all right but one word, isn t it?" 
 
 "One word? I don t know. For me, yes. And 
 you?" 
 
 They gazed eye to eye. The allusion to their unfin 
 ished business was hardly masked at all. No matter ! 
 Such interplay of hints might be very childish, but no 
 matter ! The fateful moment was before them. The 
 lover felt himself treading forbidden ground or golden 
 clouds, he scarce knew which. 
 
 "I ll tell you," he said, "the word I don t like; it s 
 out. It sounds like back out ." 
 
 "Then what would you make it?" 
 
 "I? I d make it The Way Through. Mademoi 
 selle " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "For me it s got to be that." 
 
 The girl s response began with an arch smile, though 
 her heart was in her throat, and interruption was im 
 pending. "It? What? What s got to be what?" 
 She spoke hurriedly, for the car s porter was leading 
 new passengers in a mother of thirty-five, a son of 
 fourteen and a daughter of twelve, all refined in dress, 
 handsome, and Creoles at a glance. 
 
 The porter was sorry. " But dis section belong " 
 
 322 
 
THE OTHER GIRL 
 
 "Certainly!" Rosalie and Philip crossed to her 
 own seat. There they remained standing, she bright, 
 he dark, with surprise. The newcomers had stopped 
 before M. Durel, who, risen, was hailing the lady with 
 a lively recognition which she fully reciprocated. 
 
 Philip burned with wrath. Rosalie explained: "She s 
 my cousin, of the Mobile Durels. That s strange, to 
 be so soon in Virginia, and more strange to be returning 
 home. Somebody s may be not well at home." She 
 stepped forward. 
 
 Leaving the Holdens, the father and daughter es 
 corted the cousin to her place and stood with her again 
 while the children appropriated the windows, and the 
 obliterated Philip sought his own corner. There, dis 
 covering Rosalie s book in his hand, he in turn tried to 
 be a listening reader. But the speech was French and 
 rapid; he could make it out only by a prying attention 
 and yet found reading so difficult that he closed the 
 volume. He would return to the Holdens and tell 
 them about auntie. 
 
 Coming first to the Creoles, he restored the book to 
 Rosalie, hoping to be detained, introduced, offered a 
 seat. But he was graciously allowed to pass on and 
 sit down with the Northerners. On mentioning his 
 aunt, he found them eager with an inquiry whose con 
 nection with Miss Castleton, in its domestic bearing, 
 was obvious: 
 
 "And your beautiful home is for sale?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, what is home without one s auntie ? " 
 
 "And so it s really your choice ? To sell ? " 
 323 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Y* yes. Yes. Yes, it s really our choice. Had 
 you heard to the contrary ? " 
 
 "Why, Mr. Castleton, we had. Our New York 
 cousin isn t it odd how the lightest personal financial 
 rumor will reach a financier?" 
 
 "Yes, and how accurately he will get it. But, 
 frankly, ladies, whatever truth you ve heard casts not a 
 shadow of fault on auntie. Her Tightness in the mat 
 ter is beyond cavil. As for the judge and me, left alone 
 as we are, we don t care to be tied up with a house to 
 take care of. A hotel will suit us best." 
 
 For the first time in his acquaintanceship with the 
 college women he saw them twinkle, while the elder 
 asked: "Are you quite sure of the judge?" 
 
 He was saved from replying by the benevolent voice 
 of a waiter who passed through announcing lunch 
 "now ready in the dining-car." 
 
 Late in the afternoon, when the three Creole grown 
 ups had talked out all their most urgent family matters 
 and with due caution had discussed Philip, and when 
 the young Mobile mother had had a call from Mrs. 
 Holden and one from Philip, and had enjoyed their sep 
 arate and sincere praises of her children s decorum 
 " when even Creole young folks manners have become 
 so sadly Americanized " and the little girl had grown 
 to be a silent, gazing worshipper of Rosalie, and the 
 boy the same of Philip, the Northern and the Creole 
 girl had an hour together, with only the smallest cousin 
 seated opposite. 
 
 " Now I " thought mademoiselle. " Now we shall see ! " 
 324 
 
THE OTHER QIRL 
 
 Seeing was not difficult. Plainly the Northern girl 
 was in love, pathetically so. She might hide the fact 
 from him, but that was all; she could not from any girl 
 looking for it. There was an underglow beneath every 
 quietest thing she asked or said concerning him a 
 constant, manifest, unrewarded hunger for some sign 
 of favor from him, that betrayed her mercilessly. 
 
 Jealousy waned. Most inconveniently the small 
 devotee opposite, though all eyes, was equally all ears. 
 So that when Rosalie wished to offer a special tender 
 ness to the fair Northerner it had to be done entirely 
 by a secret hand-grasp, in response to which the re 
 cipient, with a tear in her smile, murmured : 
 "You see right through me, don t you?" 
 "Ah, but you don t need to mind that." 
 "I don t so much, since it s you. It s a relief. You 
 little know what a South Sea island that college is to 
 us. If you did you d see how you ve counted, and still 
 
 count, in my life, you and " 
 
 "Yes?" asked Rosalie, "me and the aforemen 
 tioned?" 
 
 "Yes. The the latter had best not be mentioned 
 again, even that way, just now. You know what little 
 pitchers sometimes have and use." 
 
 "Ah, yes, I remember well the largeness of mine." 
 "You see, mademoiselle, I ve no person, place, or 
 thing to help me put my heart out of my mind. As the 
 poet says: 
 
 I have forgotten to forget. 
 
 I ve lost the knack or never had it." 
 
 325 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 Rosalie was touched with both pity and gratitude. 
 Without palmistry or card-reading, charm or incanta 
 tion, through simple nature, nature of her own heart, 
 jealousy had wrought benignly, and the clairvoyante s 
 purpose was attained. In all Rosalie s own heart s 
 part of the matter Philip was back again. But, ah, the 
 poor girl whose hand she pressed, who seemed just 
 what Philip s aunt, at least, might have chosen for him 
 on the score of every inner and outer qualification! 
 The thought brought a pang of self-effacement. 
 
 "For one thing," Rosalie softly prompted, "y u 
 can t remember to forget how perfectly you suit each 
 other!" 
 
 "Oh, does it seem that way to you?" 
 
 "Yes, first time I saw you I said that to grand mere. 
 You are of the same politics, religion " 
 
 "Same moral and social traditions!" 
 
 "Yes, everything the same." 
 
 " We rhyme ! " whispered Emily. " We love the same 
 poets, musicians, novelists, painters, everything!" 
 
 "I think a good friend might point him that out." 
 
 "Oh, sweet, he sees it." 
 
 " Yet in vain ? Why is that ? " 
 
 "For just the old, old, old reason." 
 
 "In love to another?" 
 
 "Yes, in love with you." 
 
 "M m! He never told you he s renounced me?" 
 
 Smilingly the informant shook her head. "Not he. 
 Yet I knew. I got it from Ovide Landry s wife without 
 asking, and I know how much, and how little, renounce- 
 
 326 
 
THE OTHER GIRL 
 
 ment means to him. Oh, Rosalie Durel, I implore you, 
 before you re off this train, to make him renounce 
 either that renouncement or else his love for you." 
 
 " Make him ? How can a girl even mention a thing 
 like that and on a train? And anyhow with still 
 some important things first to find out ? " 
 
 "Oh, I wish you could and would. Either step 
 would set me free as neither I nor anything else, with 
 out it, can. Now do you see why I ve made myself so 
 transparent?" 
 
 "Transparent! But maybe like that sea around 
 Bermuda, also deep." 
 
 " Deep, oh, no ! Only, I hope, not too utterly shal 
 low." 
 
 "You are what I last week heard somebody call you; 
 you are very fair and very good." 
 
 "Who said that? Not ?" 
 
 "No, a woman. I am neither transparent nor either 
 of those other fine things. But now a question : This 
 morning, when lunch was being called 
 
 "Yes? You heard us? About his aunt? Mar 
 ried?" 
 
 "Yes, but he s told me that already on the ship." 
 
 "Untimely blow to him." 
 
 " Blow ? You truly think that ? " 
 
 "Oh, I I mean on the business side." 
 
 Rosalie started. "Busi I didn t hear of that." 
 
 "You never would from him. We heard it in New 
 York. It appears that Miss Castleton had means of 
 her own, in her father s custody, inherited from her 
 
 32V 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 mother. They were to come into her own hands only 
 in the event of her marriage. You understand about 
 such things, don t you?" 
 
 "Yes, I had once that same arrangement." 
 "Well, here, all at once, after her fathered been han 
 dling those means faultlessly for half a lifetime, and at 
 a moment when he and her nephew had just put their 
 own resources to a dangerous strain to extricate some 
 body from something " 
 
 Rosalie put out a hand. " Who ? From what ? " 
 "Why, that s the only point I m not clear on. But 
 anyhow, their home, in order to pay her in full and in- 
 stanter, is for sale." 
 
 Rosalie gasped. "Oh, no! Oh, no!" But then 
 recovering, she musingly asked: "He thinks that will 
 open the way out, or through?" 
 
 "Why, he makes so light of it you can t tell." 
 
 "Ah, that must never be ! He shall never " 
 
 A benign voice broke in: "Dinner is now ready in the 
 dining-car." 
 
 328 
 
LHI 
 TOO LATE 
 
 THE journey s second day drew near its end. Sun 
 set lights and shades were on all the level land. Sunset 
 colors filled the sky, bronzed the ruffling waters of the 
 Mexican Gulf and its inlets, and flooded those wide 
 green leagues of sea-marsh called the "Grand Plains," 
 whose crossing takes up the express-train s last two 
 hours of approach to the outskirts of New Orleans by 
 way of Mobile. 
 
 All the day long Philip, under a serene exterior, had 
 watched and yearned for a chance to sit again at Rosa 
 lie s side and take up their theme where the Mobile 
 cousin and her sweet children, by this time at home, 
 had so innocently broken it off. He had hoped for 
 this opportunity the evening before, when the small 
 pair had been early tucked into their berth; but their 
 mother, it had turned out, "adored to play cards," 
 and had with her all the equipment for bezique, crib- 
 bage, euchre, or auction bridge. So it had been, " auc 
 tion" to a late hour, with only the Holdens left out. 
 To-day hope had risen with the dawn, but so had the 
 children; risen to shadow their two victims with an 
 inexorable adoration, ill-timed in the eyes of every one 
 
 329 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 but their mother, who could not imagine them more 
 acceptably employed. 
 
 But now at last, with Mobile, Biloxi, and Pass 
 Christian well behind and with monsieur explaining to 
 the Holdens why Pass Christian is called Pass Chris- 
 tianne, a free Philip came near an emancipated Rosalie, 
 who laid down the New Orleans afternoon paper and 
 made room for him. 
 
 "But why looking so deep in thought?" she asked. 
 
 "Thinking of Mr. Murray," he said, "and especially 
 of his parting words to us." The lover was for resum 
 ing the lost topic by the shortest cut. 
 
 Now, though Rosalie could not approve the short 
 cut to vital topics on railway-trains, she was eager to 
 know that "way through"; had even been urged by 
 her father to find it out. Eager to know because she 
 could allow no "way through" which would not be in 
 part her own. A maiden s proper self-assertion re 
 quired that, as also did her new knowledge of what 
 Philip s way in had unexpectedly cost him. She had 
 told this cost to her father, who, like her, had said, 
 "My faith, no ! They shall not do that !" 
 
 So now she replied to Philip : " Mr. Murray ? That s 
 droll; I, too, was thinking of him. Those newspapers 
 are still talking about those strange warnings to people 
 not to sail on the Lusitania. What do you think about 
 those warnings?" 
 
 "Oh, those? I give them no more weight than I 
 would an old nurse s superstitions." 
 
 "Ah, I wouldn t give them nearly so much I" 
 330 
 
TOO LATE 
 
 That point Philip left uncontested. Picking up "The 
 Way Out" he inquired: "What of this? Have you 
 hacked your way through it?" 
 
 " Ah, to hack through, I don t believe in that. Any 
 how, for me, that s a great book. I believe I can t ever 
 again look at any part of the world, however large, how 
 ever small Europe, United States, Dixie, Louisiana, 
 Bermuda, New Orleans the same way I used to look. 
 And I think tis the same way with papa, only, papa, 
 he s, eh, too like a man to say so." 
 
 Philip smiled. "Men rarely own up spiritual debts," 
 he admitted, and, turning some leaves, added: "What 
 golden luck it is for one to light on the right book at 
 the right moment in one s life; not too soon, not too 
 late." 
 
 "You think that s our case now, papa and me?" 
 
 "I don t know. It s been mine once or twice. It 
 might be so again if I should read this." 
 
 There Rosalie was amused. "You, no ! You don t 
 require ! But about this book and me and maybe 
 also papa you are right. It has found us precisely at 
 the right preparedness. I suppose Mr. Murray thought 
 that when he gave it us. Anyhow tis to me a reason 
 of the strength of that book that tis presented us by 
 him, he knowing us knowing you knowing every 
 thing since a year. But also another reason tis that 
 I m perusing it coming home through Dixie." 
 
 "Then you re feeling Dixie again as I feel it !" 
 
 "Ah, I know not. Tell me how you are feeling 
 that." The girl settled back, designing to pilot her 
 
 331 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 companion just far enough from "The Way Through" 
 not to be too near for maiden serenity nor yet too far 
 for definite results. 
 
 Said Philip: "Why may I not try to speak for both 
 of us at once ? " And when she archly nodded he con 
 tinued: "Well, we realize that what we ve seen both is 
 and is not the same old Dixie; same dear hills, woods, 
 fields, same human millions pale and dark " 
 
 She broke in: 
 
 i ere is no land like Dixie 
 I all the wide world over. " 
 
 "True," said P tip. "For better, for worse, she s 
 the last of her kin< and most abidingly herself ! But, 
 speaking of Mr. M :ray " 
 
 "I think every c< ntry ought to be herself !" 
 
 "Well, Dixie ll a! ays be Dixie. We needn t fear- 
 as thousands do, yc know that changes for the bet 
 ter will ever make ?r less herself or less fair or dear. 
 But, speaking, I sa; of Mr. Murray " 
 
 "But our city; s ? also will appear changed after 
 those few weeks?" 
 
 "Mademoiselle, hi s a week never counted to you 
 for a year?" A pause. "I know it has." Another 
 pause. "You know it has to me." 
 
 The answer was wnry. "Yes, in New York, for ex 
 ample, I had that e ?rience. Between a day of eyes 
 shut and eyes open ere can seem years. And now 
 to me Fm sure our ci s going to look both the same 
 
 332 
 
TOO LATE 
 
 and different, because my own eyes are the same and 
 not the same." 
 
 "Why not say our eyes/ ventured Philip; but she 
 was suddenly deaf. 
 
 "You know," she resumed, "I think we shall feel as 
 if tis the city herself that s been away 
 
 " And as if she d come back with a new stature and 
 larger spirit, more than ever worth lo *ng and striving 
 for?" 
 
 "Or striving against?" Rosalie ^^ed with an ar 
 raigning twinkle. u j 
 
 "Oh, either. What I hope we ll 7 oth see " 
 
 "With our new sight!" 
 
 * 11 1 j 
 
 " Yes, and more clearly in the in f user life of the city 
 than out here, though it s out he Y 
 
 " I know ! Say that ! I want ; \ hear that ! " 
 
 "Why, I hope we shall see a gr< jing, practical recog 
 nition, by our people as a people " 
 
 "Creoles and all?" 
 
 "Creoles and all a recognition that, as with every 
 people, some of our dearest sinj. Parities are obsolete 
 weapons under obsolete cloaks, g^ Dd only to get rid of, 
 and the sooner the better." 
 
 "Sooner? Better? For who ? For what?" 
 
 "For welfare; for honor; the world s and our own. 
 Now, can t we hope that together, we two?" 
 
 "Ah, well I I suppose ma " : e so. Together and 
 with many others, even with TJ ? Sa, since Bermuda 
 and that great war teaching so many things." 
 
 "Especially the hidden dan^ > of obsolete weapons," 
 333 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 said Philip. "But, mademoiselle, this isn t what I 
 came to talk to you about." 
 
 "Only tis so much the most on your heart, eh?" 
 
 "No, only that it s forever in my way." 
 
 "Your way through, perchance?" 
 
 Philip eagerly repeated the phrase. 
 
 "But, Mr. Castleton." 
 
 "Mademoiselle." 
 
 "We are already past Lake Catherine; I think there 
 is now no time. You ought to have commenced about 
 that before." 
 
 "I can be as brief as a telegram and as guarded." 
 
 "Ah, guarded? I cannot suppose there is need to 
 be guarded. That s a financial question; I am sure 
 you will express that financially." 
 
 "Fitly, I hope. You speak of new sight. Of late, 
 while left so entirely alone with the judge, I ve had 
 new sight for a thing, a most beautiful and sacred 
 thing, which I might have seen months earlier had not 
 my own passion so blinded me in all directions but 
 one." The hurried words stopped. Rosalie s hands 
 had visibly tightened on her book. 
 
 "Yes," she said. Her averted eyes narrowed, her 
 subdued voice slightly hardened. "Yes, I think so. 
 And this time I think I m guessing more correctly what 
 that is and who tis about." 
 
 "You must be. You can t miss it this time." 
 
 "No, I ve seen that same thing. Also I see that s 
 for you especially a most excellent way out." 
 
 "Not out, mademoiselle; you mean through." 
 334 
 
TOO LATE 
 
 She shook her head. The narrowed eyes still looked 
 away and the low voice remained a trifle hard. "No. 
 Out, after all, is the best way and I beg you to take it. 
 I saw how good that is just those last two days whilst 
 you were sitting there with her." 
 
 "With oh, mademoiselle 
 
 "Wait, let me tell you. That s because I perceive 
 how beautifully, perfectly, you and she, as they say, 
 rhyme ! Same politics, religion, philosophy, loving the 
 same poets, painters, musicians, everything " 
 
 "Ah, how can you? How can you make that mis 
 take?" 
 
 The averted eyes came back. "That s a mistake? 
 I have guessed wrong again?" 
 
 "On ship or land, never so wrong before." 
 
 "That s absolute? You assure me that?" 
 
 "Absolutely. No such thing ever entered my mind. 
 For me there s never been, there never can be, but one 
 of your kind. Don t you know that? You do. You 
 do." 
 
 "Then what" a catch of agitation broke the ques 
 tion in two "what do you see with that new sight?" 
 
 "A mind, a heart, which you also must have seen. 
 The lifetime patient mind, the lifetime loyal heart, of 
 my dear young-old judge ! Of him and 
 
 The inquirer s hand lifted . " If you please, no ! The 
 judge alone you can say, if you want; but the judge 
 and no ! And is not possible to suppose. But any 
 how, in that mind of the judge what did you see ?" 
 
 "Something very much like my way through. I 
 335 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 saw that years are not the true measure of youth. I 
 saw that under the surface of life a buried love can lie 
 years in trance, with that life aspiring, blooming, and 
 fruiting in all its duties round and round the circle of 
 the seasons and at last, sooner or later, come to its 
 own, its resurrection and reward." 
 
 "But, Mr. Castleton like papa " 
 
 "Yes, true, like your father, the judge married." 
 
 "Well, you, you can t regret that." 
 
 "No. And yet, mademoiselle, had he not married, 
 this might have come to him far earlier." 
 
 "What is this?" There was challenge in the 
 query. 
 
 "His chance. I call it nothing more. His whole 
 heart s chance, now his last chance. It might have 
 come in ten years or less. Mine may come in five." 
 
 "I I don t I don t understand." 
 
 "I ll explain. As I see myself, I lie supine in the 
 bondage of a single silken thread; a thread of absurd 
 punctilio, too fine-spun for ordinary sight. That s 
 plain so far, is it not ? " 
 
 "Yes, but not so brief as a telegram." 
 
 "Well, so lying, and asking no conditional pledge of 
 anybody, I claim for myself one right, the right to 
 wait; and for the judge one, the right to be paid at last 
 for all his waiting." 
 
 "I think you are not speaking very financially." 
 
 "I will. Your father s obligation to the judge and 
 me will some day be extinguished; not by Mr. Murray; 
 on that subject I fancy we have his last word; but by 
 
 336 
 
TOO LATE 
 
 your father himself. Till then I want you to let me 
 wait as the judge has waited." 
 
 The girl shook her head. "My papa tells me that 
 may take ten, fifteen, twenty years. And that s a 
 bondage not of a silken thread." 
 
 "No, nor of so much as a cobweb, save by your own 
 choice. But whatever it is, or the length of time may 
 be, or you may do meantime, I ll wait. Who can tell ? 
 Fortune, smiling on so many in these days of fabulous 
 gains and losses, may smile on your father, and my 
 time turn out joyfully short. But, short or long, I ll 
 wait. And that, mademoiselle, tame as it looks, tame 
 enough for the tamest mind, is my way through." 
 
 The listener sighed. "Seems to me that s pretty 
 wild. Mr. Castleton, your home, tis for sale?" 
 
 The two sat eye to eye while Philip asked: "Does 
 that count against me? with you?" 
 
 "No," she replied, rising as the porter came with his 
 brushes, "on the contrary. And neither with papa. 
 Go there now and ask him; he ll tell you that." Her 
 dismissing smile was as sweet as a rose. 
 
 "But oh! but " 
 
 "Yes, I know. And I m sorry. But if you couldn t 
 be brief as a telegram you ought to have commenced 
 about that before." 
 
 337 
 
LIV 
 
 THE LUSITANIA! THE LUSITANIA! 
 
 WELL lost to the careless eye in that wide piece of 
 up-town New Orleans once called Jefferson City stands 
 an old Creole home which even at this last moment 
 claims first place in our attention. 
 
 On which side of St. Charles or Peters Avenue it may 
 be found, or how many squares from either, matters 
 not. It stands, or sits nests on the ground in the 
 cool of its blossoming evergreens at the far end of a 
 well-shaded old flower-garden. 
 
 This garden was once of much extent, but some 
 shortage of worldly wisdom compelled its heirs to part 
 with four-fifths of it to a buyer who, while planning to 
 build on it, developed an incurable ailment, changed 
 his whim, and gave left the ground to the city for 
 a bit of park. 
 
 As such, owing to the city s lack of interest in it, it 
 remained beautiful; but, possibly for that reason, had 
 never become very public. A few nurses and children 
 found pleasure in it by day, but after every clear sunset 
 it once more belonged to the moon and stars, the mock 
 ing-bird and the up-town Ducatels. For Ducatels they 
 were a father, mother, son, and son s wife and chil 
 dren, who dwelt there, in the reserved remnant behind. 
 
 338 
 
THE LUSITANIA! THE LUSITANIA! 
 
 Such were the facts in May, 1915, when their beau- 
 iful and beloved cousin, Madame Durel, was their 
 uest and the garden s and park s guest while Ro- 
 alie and her father were in New York and Bermuda, 
 nd while the son, the ex-bank-teller, was beginning 
 ife a second time in the new antique shop in Royal 
 >treet. But now monsieur and Rosalie were back, 
 nd with mere and the four cousins had set up a 
 )urel-Ducatel household. 
 
 "Permanent?" their Creole intimates inquired. 
 
 " Ah, that depended ! Anyhow, permanent for the 
 ime being; until they could find something much more 
 oomy, elegant, modern, central, and inexpensive. 
 
 So said madame gravely, Rosalie gayly, in the house 
 :self or garden at an afternoon reception proposed 
 or them by certain kindred in advance of their arrival 
 nd given to and by them on the second day after it. 
 !*he Castletons, of course, attended, to whom "Al- 
 honse" was so cordial that some of those kindred 
 runted, some sniffed. A mere outdoor tea the affair 
 p as, but cottage and garden were alike so thronged that 
 be judge and Philip, especially Philip, could be courte- 
 usly slighted without any of the household (save Ro- 
 alie) being aware. Two or three tried the amusing 
 eat. 
 
 "And now their house is for sale," gossiped certain 
 nes bound homeward. "Why is that? Cotton?" 
 
 A shrug. "No, indorsing." 
 
 " Who for ? That Scotchman, may we hope ? " 
 
 "No one knows. Some say Ovide Landry." 
 339 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Oh, impossible! And Rosalie, finds no choir?" 
 
 "No need ! Bank s doing so well !" 
 
 "Aha, Jean, there is magic in the Durel name yet !" 
 
 "Yes, the best kind, Marie; money magic." 
 
 "Ah, sordid! Well, here s my car-line. Good-by. 
 Oh, are you going at Tulane Friday afternoon to hear 
 that Belgian professor tell about the war ? Rosalie and 
 mere are going. They are of the Era Club now, you 
 know. You ll be there, tired business man?" 
 
 "No, I don t digest lectures. For me the best diet, 
 that s the movies. And besides, Friday?" 
 
 "So says Professor Castleton, who will introduce 
 him." 
 
 "And yet you are going ! " 
 
 "Yes, I m not hideboun , like you ha-ha!" 
 
 The low-roofed cottage behind the bit of park con 
 tributed to the lecturer s audience not only grand mere 
 and Rosalie, but the elder pair of Ducatels. At the 
 hour s close these four, leaving the hall, were overtaken 
 by Philip. "Are you walking home?" he asked them, 
 and to Rosalie added: "I d like to walk with you." 
 
 Following madame and the Ducatels the two were 
 led into a series of umbrageous streets between resi 
 dential gardens. "This," Philip said, with a motive, 
 "is almost as private as your little park or your own 
 cottage." 
 
 "Ah, not at all. Are you looking for somebody?" 
 
 He glanced three ways. "I m looking for a news- 
 boy." 
 
 340 
 
THE LUSITANIA! THE LU SIT AN I A! 
 
 "In St. Charles Avenue I saw two or three." 
 
 "Yes, at a distance, and our audience buying their 
 papers excitedly. Do you know? The more the pa 
 pers print, the more I m bothered about Mr. Murray 
 and his ship. I m selfishly bothered. I want your 
 seal on my "way through" while it s costing me all it 
 can. I want it before it can in any sort be cheapened 
 by any news of his safe arrival." 
 
 The response came tardily. "Mr. Castleton?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "One thing I never saw in my life. Did you ever 
 see that ? " The inquirer s smile was so sweet, so nearly 
 fond, that the lover s heart thrilled. 
 
 "Ever see what?" 
 
 " Did you ever see, however quiet the place, the seal 
 put on anything in the street?" 
 
 "Oh ! I ll say no more till we get to your house." 
 
 "And till mere has asked you to come in?" 
 
 "Yes, and to sit down," he jested. " But," he added, 
 sobering, "I ve something else, which I must say before 
 we hear any bad news of our friend." 
 
 " Something else you must say ? About what ? " 
 
 "Zephire Durel. He and his fellow traveller are on 
 that steamer. I got them on it. I thought their haste 
 to be gone was wise and also that in any strait Mr. 
 Murray might be some help to them." 
 
 "Ah, yes! You were good to do that. Oh, that 
 news you are fearing I think that s impossible ! But 
 next corner is Peters Avenue and maybe the newsboy." 
 
 Indeed, as they reached that point, and their seniors 
 341 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 paused for them on the corner over the way, a car 
 passed and a newsboy stepped from it, crying the awful 
 tidings of the Lwitania. Philip bought a paper. 
 
 "More than a thousand lost !" he sighed. His gaze 
 swept down the page and suddenly, mutely, he passed 
 the sheet to Rosalie, and in a roll of the lost she read 
 the name of their friend. With flooded eyes bent on 
 it, she turned away. Madame and the Ducatels re 
 joined her. Tearfully smiling, she looked again to 
 Philip. 
 
 "Good evening," she said. "Come see us- later." 
 
 "To-day ? To-morrow ? " 
 
 "No. I Til write you that. Good-by." 
 
 342 
 
LV 
 LISTEN! 
 
 TO-MORROW, not a line from her. To-morrow again, 
 never a word. Again to-morrow, nothing ! So to the 
 lover ticked eternity s clock. 
 
 But he masqueraded well. Day brought the day s 
 work, night the library-lamp and newspaper recitals of 
 the ocean massacre; tales of horror, tales of glorious 
 self-sacrifice; amended lists of the rescued and of the 
 lost. Zephire and Philomele were gone. He had sunk 
 after saving her and she had died in one of the lifeboats. 
 The second morning had brought a rumor that the 
 banker, Murray, after all, was not lost. In the after 
 noon 
 
 "Rose," said grand mere, "telephone." 
 
 Rosalie accepted the receiver, but held madame cap 
 tive. "Yes, this is Ah, good evening. News? 
 No, what is it? We were just going out in hopes to 
 buy a paper." 
 
 "That rumor," said the instrument, "is confirmed, 
 absolutely verified. Mr. Murray is saved." 
 
 "Ah, heaven be thanked! What else? Is there 
 more?" 
 
 " Very little. Trying to save your cousin, he did sink. 
 But he rose and was saved. That s all we know so far." 
 
 " But that s glorious ! And what other news ? " 
 343 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 "None. Have you written that, eh 
 
 "Ah, that s too soon yet. I must get some other 
 news before that. . . . Yes, pretty soon. . . . Good- 
 by." The receiver clicked on the hook, and the girl 
 turned as madame asked, in French 
 
 "Other news? What other news must you get?" 
 
 Rosalie dropped her hands on madame s shoulders. 
 "News from you ! Right now I" 
 
 In madame s room they sat down, four hands joined, 
 but at Rosalie s first utterance she was stopped. "Oh, 
 my child, my poor child I Impossible ! How could you 
 suppose it ? . . . No, under no possible circumstance. 
 . . . No, not even to make you happy. It could 
 never make you happy to see me so pathetically ridicu 
 lous. Enough ! Enough ! As you love me, do not 
 mention that ever, ever, ever again. Ah, spare your 
 tears; your day of joy may yet come." 
 
 "Beloved, the tears are for you and you alone I" 
 
 On the tenth day afterward there was yet no line, 
 never a word, nothing. But on the eleventh afternoon 
 there came into Prytania Street by the hand of a small 
 Ducatel a note inviting both Castletons to call that 
 evening, yet preparing them for one disappointment; 
 in the first half of the evening M. Durel would not be 
 at home but down in the Vieux Carre on business. 
 
 When they reached the cottage garden they were con 
 fronted by that always charming sight, a Creole family 
 emerging from their front door. Besides the two Durel 
 ladies were the senior Ducatel, his wife, their son s 
 wife, and that pretty cousin whom the Castletons had 
 
 344 
 
LISTEN! 
 
 first met at the opera-house concert. She was just re 
 turning to her own home, a few squares off, and Rosalie 
 and the elderly Ducatel were about to conduct her. 
 But now he yielded his place to Philip and with his wife 
 and daughter-in-law passed into the cottage while the 
 judge and grand mere joined the other three. 
 
 The garden, the sequestered little park beyond it, 
 the summer air, the fragrance, the shade of the streets 
 camphor-trees, the palms against the moonlight, made 
 an enchanting hour and scene. But the home-bound 
 cousin was feeling derelict. A babe was awaiting her, 
 and her step, frankly encouraged by Rosalie and Philip, 
 grew eager. On the other hand, grand mere, if only in 
 deference to the judge and the temperature, preferred 
 a more dignified progress and warned the three juniors 
 that if he and she were to be thus dropped they would 
 mercilessly turn back. And soon they mercilessly did so. 
 
 "I wouldn have object to go faster if they had 
 request us/ she said as, once more nearing the park, 
 they went yet slower. 
 
 But equally slow in their returning step were the 
 other pair, and as soft in their speech, mainly Rosalie s. 
 Almost in their first moment alone she had asked 
 Philip if, still with no pledge from her, he held im 
 movably to his proposal to wait and wait through the 
 years. And when he said, "Immovably!" he felt her 
 tremble as she let herself be old-fashioned enough to 
 take his arm. 
 
 "Surely," he added, "you ve not sent for me to tell 
 me you forbid ? " 
 
 345 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 She replied that she was still in doubt if it was not 
 purely selfish and cruel for her to allow it. 
 
 " But you do allow it ? Tell me you do ! " 
 
 "Mr. Castleton, if everything was the same this 
 evening as when we walked last together I wouldn t, I 
 couldn t permit." 
 
 " But everything is not the same ? What s come to 
 pass?" 
 
 " I must tell you. This morning all at once has come 
 to pass something to make it possible, even probable, 
 that such a waiting as you propose, though it might be 
 for years, might be for just only a few." There the 
 girl felt the lover tremble, and hurriedly spoke on: 
 "But this doesn t mean that even at the last I can 
 say what you ll be waiting for. Only if that fact is 
 recognized " 
 
 "I fully recognize it." 
 
 "Only if that is recognized can I tell you what a 
 strange letter I got this morning." 
 
 "From Murray?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "About our ?" 
 
 "No, only about Zephire. Zephire, since beginning 
 the Lusitania voyage, was all the time trying to be 
 with Mr. Murray, and because, you know, he was born 
 to talk about himself, he told many things. And 
 among the rest he told how, whilst that short time in 
 Mexico, he and Philomele had kept, with a splendid 
 success, a gambling-house. Well! On the third day 
 of the steamer he astonished Mr. Murray when he 
 
 346 
 
LISTEN ! 
 
 showed him a bill of exchange for thousands of pounds 
 sterling, and begged Mr. Murray to let him endorse 
 that to him and leave it in his hand/ 
 
 Philip made a fist: "I know why! I suspected it 
 on the Bermuda steamer. He thought one of those 
 refugees was following him with deadly intent." 
 
 It was so. This man, Rosalie resumed, had lost a 
 fortune at Zephire s tables, and on ship after ship was 
 still-hunting him and that bill of exchange. Now the 
 banker was besought to hold it subject to the ex- 
 cashier s call. In the event of Zephire s death with 
 the deposit unclaimed, or in any strong presumption of 
 his death, it was to be paid unconditionally to Rosalie. 
 
 " And papa has it now in the bank. He will pay you 
 that whole amount to-morrow." 
 
 "What!. Me? No! Never! A thousand times, 
 no ! Your poor cousin never meant that. If your re 
 lease from debt ever crossed his mind he thought only 
 for he knew only of Ovide." 
 
 " No, I think he knew better. He was too smart for 
 that Zephire Durel. Anyhow you ll make me very 
 unhappy if you refuse that from papa to-morrow." 
 
 So for a time they contended, but in the end Philip 
 drew the girl s hand to his lips, murmuring: "Mademoi 
 selle, we are out ! No, not out; we are through !" 
 
 "Ah-h! When just now you fully recognized 
 
 "I did. I do. But the wait, Rosalie, the long, long 
 wait, is cancelled." 
 
 She was inexorable. "Not by that. That can 
 maybe make it more short, but how much you don t 
 
 347 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 know. Because, you see? To release not me alone 
 but also mere and papa, we have there not enough, 
 neither half enough; and for me is no release possible 
 except it be also of mere and papa. But, Mr. Castle- 
 ton, there is besides another trouble/ 
 
 "Oh, not oh, surely not another?" 
 
 "Yes. That s not financial, yet still at the same 
 time tis the worst of all." 
 
 "Ah, me! Tell it. Tell it!" 
 
 "I don t know if you can believe that s the worst, 
 and same time it is! You remember" the words 
 caught in her throat, stopped by a loser s desperation 
 playing a poor hand s poorest card "you remember, 
 last week I telephoned you I must first get some other 
 news? Well, that same day I got it. Twas from 
 grand mere. I thought it is going to be good, but it 
 turned out very, very, very bad. And so long as tis 
 that way I can t ever give that answer you want. 
 And that s notwithstanding you are, to me, of very, 
 very few faults." 
 
 Chagrin drove the lover to irony. "Except in my 
 politics," he suggested. 
 
 Ah, your politics, I have learned to stand them. 
 Because, Mr. Castleton, I see that in all your politics, 
 right or wrong, you are a a lover of truth of jus 
 tice and of Louisiana, and for me that s enough." 
 
 "Then what is this last, worst trouble of all? Your 
 praises only make me desperate if you can t tell me 
 that." 
 
 " Ah, that s impossible ! All I can say is, just, yes, 
 348 
 
LISTEN ! 
 
 you can wait. I can t prevent you from waiting, can 
 I?" 
 
 "No, you can t prevent me." 
 
 "And you shall wait ? Spite of all ? Even of me ? " 
 "I shall wait in spite of all, even of you." 
 He felt her tremble again. "Mr. Castleton," she 
 asked, "I didn t tell you papa also he s got one?" 
 "What! A letter? And from the same source?" 
 "He ll inform you. He ll presently be back." 
 "Mademoiselle, has he gone to see Ovide?" 
 "I ll I ll tell you. But" they were re-entering 
 the park, and her tone dropped to a murmur "there 
 is here, these nights, a mocking-bird of course there 
 are, all the time, everywhere, thousands of mocking 
 birds, but I never heard one so astonishing. Maybe 
 if we are quiet he ll commence to sing." 
 
 The moon was high. The tall shrubberies and their 
 shadows on the paths were velvet-black. A certain 
 bench beside a mass of roses, close by, though not yet 
 in view, drew their steps. Motioning Philip back, Ro 
 salie stole forward to overpeer this growth and that, 
 till presently the seat came into her view pre-empted. 
 Beside it stood madame and the judge. What startling 
 significance was in their attitude need not be detailed. 
 Rosalie saw it with all the rapture that had ever over 
 flowed the spot in the bird s song. She stole back to 
 Philip showing such emotion that he met her anxiously. 
 Tears shone in her eyes, yet she spoke first. " Papa is 
 not come?" 
 
 "No, what s happened? What have you seen?" 
 349 
 
LOVERS OF LOUISIANA 
 
 "Something/ she smilingly replied, "that ought to 
 have been seen forty years ago." She plucked his 
 sleeve and they moved on, taking pains to be heard, 
 and the next word was from madame to Rosalie. 
 
 "Ah ! And now, on the contrary, you have compel 
 us to wait ! . . . Ah, yes ! But would you have like* 
 for us to go into the house without you? Oh-h, 
 no!" 
 
 "Listen!" said Rosalie. "Papa is coming." 
 
 Monsieur appeared. "I m sorry," he said, "not to 
 be sooner at home. I was oblige to go down- town." 
 
 "To see Ovide," boldly prompted Rosalie. 
 
 "Ah, you ve tol on me ! Well, then, gentlemen, I ll 
 ask you a favor." 
 
 Both Castletons granted it first and heard it after 
 ward. 
 
 " Tis this," said monsieur. "When you arr-ive 
 home to-night will you please to juz , eh, take that 
 uzeless sign off yo house?" 
 
 "Mr. Durel," asked Philip, "did Mr. Murray im 
 pose conditions ? " 
 
 "My dear sir," said the smiling Creole, "let me tell 
 you; tha z a thing deztined to remain egsclusively be 
 tween him and me." He addressed the judge. " Well, 
 shall we all pazz inside?" 
 
 They and madame began to go and the juniors fol 
 lowed. But at a slight angle in the shrubbery Rosalie 
 felt a detaining touch and she and Philip stood still, 
 alone. 
 
 "Are we not to hear the bird?" he murmured. 
 350 
 
LISTEN ! 
 
 "Ah! Can I cause a bird to sing by just telling 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes. You can. Yes. Rosalie, the first time we 
 ever met, in that far Northern city, when everything 
 that had power to sunder us began to rise into sight, 
 I too heard a bird sing amazingly. Say one word and 
 he will sing again." 
 
 Despite a certain bewitching resistance he had begun 
 to draw her to himself, but "Nn-o," she said, "I don t 
 think that s possible. Ah, that would be a sin ! That 
 would be magic!" 
 
 "Magic or not, Rosalie, it s happening now. Listen ! 
 Don t you hear it?" 
 
 She looked up into his eyes. She had never been so 
 near them. And she listened. "Nn-o, I I don t 
 hear it." 
 
 A hand on her head pressed it to his heart. "Do 
 you hear it now ? " he asked. " Do you hear it now ? " 
 And she whispered: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 THE END 
 
 351 
 
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 AUG16B87 
 
 
 AUG131987 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 LD 21A-50m-3, 62 
 (C7097slO)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
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 U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
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