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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
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"POSSON JONE" 
 
 AND 
 PERE RAPHAEL 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 AM) 
 
 PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 WITH A 
 
 \KW WOK I) SKTTIXC; F OUT 1 1 HOW AND \\ [ M" 
 T II K TWO TA L KS A K K ON K 
 
 GEORC;E w. CABLE 
 
 ILLVSTKATKI) 15 Y 
 STANLEY M. AKTHURS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 
 1909 
 
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 rdE^c&s/ 
 
 -K-^sg^ 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Vignette Title-page 
 
 Facing page 
 
 In his arms he bore . . . the tiger 19 
 
 " Shoot, ef you dare ! You can kill me, but 
 
 you can t scare me!" 44 
 
 A ray of moonlight Jell upon M. Jules 
 St.-Ange 56 
 
 Colossus rose stealthily and tiptoed by his 
 
 still shouting master 70 
 
 Swelled for a fitting retort from a Creole 
 gentleman 72 
 
 Florestine . . . sent him a soft call of dis 
 tress 106 
 
 " Fine, Miche Jules ! Jules ! " 128 
 
 But Caroline, outside the double gate, went 
 
 and came, describing and explaining 132 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ]W months ago I stood once more 
 
 in Royal Street, New Orleans, 
 
 where all about me the very names 
 
 of the thoroughfares have a quaint flavor 
 
 of age and poetry. I mean half-way down 
 
 between Canal Street and that small garden 
 
 which, at the head of Orleans, between St. 
 
 Peter and St. Ann, so pleasantly adorns the 
 
 rear end, the good old Spanish end, of St. 
 
 Louis cathedral. 
 
 The half-way corner where I paused, say 
 a short quarter of a mile from Canal Street 
 behind me and that garden before, was of 
 particular interest to me because of my hav 
 ing taken, long ago, a story-teller s liberty 
 with it, to the extent of pinching back the 
 [3] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 architectural history of one of its buildings 
 some seven years in order to accommodate 
 niy friends Parson Jones and Jules St.-Ange; 
 a thing I hardly would have done for any 
 one else in the world, except, of course, the 
 present reader. 
 
 But there was a further reason for my 
 halt. I was at that special cross-roads to 
 try if the spot itself would not show me how 
 to make as plain to the reader, before he 
 should begin to read them, as it has always 
 been to the author, the fact that the printing 
 of these two stories together is a requirement 
 of their veritable unity, their essential one 
 ness, a genuine love-match, made in heaven, 
 as lovers say, and bred of an affinity back 
 of all time! 
 
 With this purpose in mind, latent per 
 haps, but "in being," I paused to gaze on 
 [4] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the startling change going on across the 
 way, where Dimitry Davezac a scant cen 
 tury ago hovered for a glimpse of Abigail at 
 some front window of Jules s home in that 
 same Sabbath morning hour in which St.- 
 Ange and the West Floridian parson met, 
 at the capture of the latter s runaway hat. 
 On that side the buildings of an entire 
 square Andrew Jackson s headquarters, 
 Gottschalk s birthplace, the shops of the 
 comb-mender and the pawnbroker, with all 
 the other structures, tall or squat, around 
 which, that morning, went Jules and the 
 Parson into the Rue Chartres on their absurd 
 circuit to Miguel s gambling-den were gone, 
 wiped off the earth forever, and in their place 
 was rising one vast, beautiful marble palace 
 of justice (human justice), wherein all the 
 tribunals of the stupendously expanded city 
 [5] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 will ere long be housed together. I could 
 not resent the metamorphosis, yet I was 
 glad that I had found here, before the reno 
 vation came, not one story alone, but two, 
 and they spiritually twins, occupying the 
 same place at the same time, life-mated long 
 before the birth of either, and this equally 
 by the spot s ancient romantic warrant and 
 by the modernest court sanction; for there 
 stood the courts, silent, and by their own 
 immemorial ruling silence is assent. 
 
 I say by the spot s warrant of antiquity, 
 romance, and picturesque decay, for this I 
 had already realized at nearly every step of 
 my approach, and especially at one point 
 only a few yards behind me. I had found 
 the persistently warm, moist air still laying 
 its pathetic touch of premature age and de 
 cline on every wall and roof that betrayed 
 [61 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the slightest neglect, and still that touch was 
 half redeemed by the complacent oblivious- 
 ness to it of tenant, landlord, and the general 
 eye; while historic interest, eccentricity of 
 architectural lines, and bravery of color on 
 masonry and carpentry and in human dress 
 and adornment maintained as ever their 
 quaint pre-eminence. In "Perc Raphael" 
 there is mention of wide archways. At the 
 point I name I had noted one of these open 
 ing inward from the sidewalk by high 
 double-leaved doors of dingy green iron 
 openwork. The passage within, some eight 
 feet broad, was colored a strong terra-cotta 
 hue the first four feet up from its stone flag 
 ging, and then white maybe eight feet more 
 to the bright green ceiling. It ended in a 
 second arch some forty feet away, whose 
 openwork gates, still handsomer than the 
 
 m 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 near ones, were of wrought iron and, stand 
 ing wide, laid the dark lace of their pattern 
 against the two white and terra-cotta walls. 
 Beyond lay a small, square, flagged court 
 deeply shut in all round by lofty buildings. 
 At its farther bound a heavy green batten 
 door, broad, high, arched, and grimly ironed, 
 but open, showed an interior whose rich 
 brown half-light revealed rising tiers of wine 
 casks of the same color in livelier tints. In 
 the court, beside the door, a stack of yellow 
 wine cases stood against a wall of smoky 
 white stucco with large peeled-away blotches 
 of age-softened red brickwork picked out 
 with the gray of its crumbling mortar. Above 
 these cases an iron-barred window, twice as 
 wide as it was high, a sort of huge transom, 
 occupied much of the wall, yet showed only 
 darkness behind it. I might admit that for 
 [8] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 striking effect the moment was fortunate, 
 were it not that in that region I have never 
 known when it was not fortunate. At any 
 rate, the court s green-brown flagging was 
 shining wet, and repeated all those good 
 lines and daring colors in its mirror. A 
 man in dark trousers and a navy-blue shirt 
 came out of the wine-room, bearing by its 
 hand-holes another of those yellow cases of 
 bottled wine or ale to the stack; and on the 
 same instant, as if Dame Fortune had 
 turned stage manager, verily, at a leisurely 
 untirnorous trot, a coal-black cat picked her 
 steps across the wet court from some ferns 
 and tropical shrubberies against one side 
 wall to others on the opposite boundary. 
 
 Do you notice how exclusively masculine 
 was the whole scene ? Its one poor hint of do 
 mesticity was the cat, and she, like enough, 
 [9] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 was but a warehouse cat after all. As lone- 
 somely masculine it all was as the tale of 
 "Posson Jone ." And then see what fol 
 lowed. The perfection of the picture, except 
 for this one subtle drawback, argued the im 
 probability that there could be anything to 
 match it near by, yet moved me, as I went 
 on, to go with seeking eyes, and I had not left 
 the sight five steps behind when I found its 
 consort! Oh, mark you! this is no builded 
 fiction, but the clean sand of fact as I noted it 
 down right there lest later I might let imagi 
 nation impose on memory. This second 
 archway and court had batten gates at their 
 sidewalk front, with a batten wicket in one of 
 them. The arcade was colored brown and 
 terra-cotta. In the court was a riot of palm, 
 rubber, and banana foliage, with banks and 
 hanging-baskets of ferns, and under the arch 
 [10] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 that curved between these and the dark arch 
 way, against the luminous greenery, and with 
 a fine old lamp and crane of wrought iron 
 overhanging their heads, sat three women of 
 the household, in rocking-chairs, sewing. I 
 could not turn my back so promptly and 
 make believe to be taking my pencil notes 
 from across the way, but a young man came 
 with the firm step and polite emphasis of a 
 Davezac and shut the wicket. The tale of 
 "Pere Raphael" was justified. 
 
 A story-teller does not so much make a 
 story as find it. He finds the stone, he cuts 
 the gem. Stories, like wild flowers, are the 
 product of the soil that favors them, and I 
 have my own experience in this very case 
 to show that a soil has only to be rich 
 enough in order for one story to become two 
 and yet the two to remain one. Also to 
 
 in] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 show, twice proved, that the story-teller is 
 most likely to find the sort of story he is 
 looking for. "Posson Jone " is a story of 
 love, yet not, in its initial singleness, a love 
 story. I found it because I was distinctively 
 seeking one that should portray an ardent 
 and controlling mutual affection springing 
 into life wholly apart from the passion of 
 sex; flowering out of the pure admiration of 
 two masculine characters for their utter 
 opposites, and overcoming all the separative 
 distance that could be made by antipodal 
 conditions of nationality, religious training, 
 political sentiment, native temperament, 
 years, and social quality and tradition. 
 
 As fulfilling these conditions "Posson 
 
 Jone " so satisfied my easily pleased fancy 
 
 and found its way so steadily, though slowly, 
 
 into the favor of readers, that for years it did 
 
 [12] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 not occur to me that another story of the 
 same time, place, and circumstance might be 
 lying beneath it, like one painting beneath 
 another in the same frame and on the same 
 canvas, or like one fireplace around another 
 in some big chimney of an old mansion. 
 I doubt if I should ever have thought of it 
 had I not been kept many years in the clos 
 est companionship of Jules and the Parson 
 by the flattering willingness of public audi 
 ences to hear their episode recounted; but 
 through this ever-growing intimacy the be 
 lief, so to call it, came and its reasonableness 
 argued for it. It seemed hardly rational to 
 go on assuming that two souls so fitly 
 made for loving and so prompt and glad to 
 love that their worship of moral strength and 
 beauty could carry their affections over such 
 a gulf of dissimilarity should not have, operat- 
 [13] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ing potentially in their daily lives, that most 
 universal of all love s forms, the grand pas 
 sion. Parson Jones was probably already 
 a husband or a widower; but Jules was 
 young, handsome, single, a Latin, and a 
 Creole. At that phase of my thought one 
 circumstance of the tale after another rose up 
 in confirming evidence, and the moment the 
 author accused his blithe hero of having 
 another story, as you might say, concealed 
 on his person the blithe Creole brought it 
 forth as frankly as, a hundred years ago, he 
 had produced his card-table spoils to Parson 
 Jones on the banks of Bayou St. John. 
 
 With only the pleasantest feelings I recog 
 nize that many a kind friend of Jones and 
 Jules will resent what at first blush they may 
 suspect to be an arbitrary yoking of that pair 
 with Florestine, Dimitry, and Abigail, and 
 [14] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 will declare without granting so much as a 
 preliminary hearing that the tale of these 
 latter is not the tale of the former. But, 
 queerly enough, that is almost precisely 
 what was originally said, by one of the lead 
 ing editors of our land, concerning the first 
 story, when declining it for his magazine: 
 that it was not the right story, inasmuch 
 as it was not a love story. In fact, Posson 
 Jone had a hard time getting into print, 
 went bowing and scraping from editorial 
 door to door, and on being printed, was re 
 ceived with as quiet a neglect as any rustic 
 could be. A year or so later, on the first 
 issuance of "Old Creole Days," with Jones 
 and Jules in it, one noted critic and warm 
 friend was openly vexed that so poor a tale 
 as theirs should have been assigned by 
 oversight a place which he believed to be 
 [15] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of strategic value for the fortunes of the 
 book; to wit, the end of the procession. 
 
 However, let us sum up in the one word, 
 that this alliance is no manage de convenance, 
 whatever may be the two tales disparity of 
 years; though, if it were, our Gallic Jules 
 would be the most likely of us all to take it 
 as a matter of course and draw from it the 
 fullest measure of delight. Here are the two 
 stories joined in wedlock, and here their par 
 ent unfeignedly well pleased with the una 
 voidably delayed match, and harboring, after 
 all, only the one fear that, in his eagerness to 
 please everybody, he may be absurdly over 
 estimating his reader s interest in the case. 
 The one true test of the match s goodness 
 is for the reader to read on with an open and 
 charitable mind. If, at the volume s end, 
 approval is no more apathetic than it was 
 [16] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 to each of the contracting parties separately 
 on their first appearance, the author will 
 venture to hope for them a long and happy 
 
 married life. 
 
 G. W. CABLE. 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, MASS., July, 1909. 
 
 [17] 
 
- rosso x jo x E 
 
 In his (inns he bore . . . the tiger 
 
"PQSSON JONE 
 
 TO Jules St.-Ange elegant little 
 heathen there yet remained at 
 manhood a remembrance of having 
 been sent to school, and of having been 
 taught by a stony-headed Capuchin that the 
 world is round for example, like a cheese. 
 This round world is a cheese to be eaten 
 through, and Jules had nibbled quite into 
 his cheese- world already at twenty- two. 
 
 He realized this as he idled about one 
 Sunday morning where the intersection of 
 Royal and Conti Streets some seventy years 
 ago formed a central corner of New Orleans. 
 Yes, yes, the trouble was he had been waste 
 ful and honest. He discussed the matter 
 with that faithful friend and confidant, Bap- 
 [21] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 tiste, his yellow body-servant. They con 
 cluded that, papa s patience and tante s pin- 
 money having been gnawed away quite to 
 the rind, there were left open only these few 
 easily enumerated resorts: to go to work 
 they shuddered; to join Major Innerarity s 
 filibustering expedition; or else why not? 
 to try some games of confidence. At 
 twenty-two one must begin to be something. 
 Nothing else tempted ; could that avail ? 
 One could but try. It is noble to try; and, 
 besides, they were hungry. If one could 
 "make the friendship" of some person from 
 the country, for instance, with money, not 
 expert at cards or dice, but, as one would 
 say, willing to learn, one might find cause to 
 say some "Hail Marys." 
 
 The sun broke through a clearing sky, 
 and Baptiste pronounced it good for luck. 
 [22] 
 
; POSSON JONE 
 
 There had been a hurricane in the night. 
 The weed-grown tile-roofs were still drip 
 ping, and from lofty brick and low adobe 
 walls a rising steam responded to the sum 
 mer sunlight, tip-street, and across the Rue 
 du Canal, one could get glimpses of the gar 
 dens in Faubourg Ste.-Marie standing in 
 silent wretchedness, so many tearful Lucre- 
 tias, tattered victims of the storm. Short 
 remnants of the wind now and then came 
 down the narrow street in erratic puffs heav 
 ily laden with odors of broken boughs and 
 torn flowers, skimmed the little pools of 
 rain-water in the deep ruts of the unpaved 
 street, and suddenly went away to nothing, 
 like a juggler s butterflies or a young man s 
 money. 
 
 It was very picturesque, the Rue Royale. 
 The rich and poor met together. The lock- 
 [23] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 smith s swinging key creaked next door to 
 the bank; across the way, crouching men 
 dicant-like in the shadow of a great import 
 ing house, was the mud laboratory of the 
 mender of broken combs. Light balconies 
 overhung the rows of showy shops and stores 
 open for trade this Sunday morning, and 
 pretty Latin faces of the higher class glanced 
 over their savagely pronged railings upon 
 the passers below. At some windows hung 
 lace curtains, flannel duds at some, and at 
 others only the scraping and sighing one- 
 hinged shutter groaning toward Paris after 
 its neglectful master. 
 
 M. St.-Ange stood looking up and down 
 the street for nearly an hour. But few 
 ladies, only the inveterate mass-goers, were 
 out. About the entrances of the frequent 
 cafes the masculine gentility stood leaning 
 [24] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 on canes, with which now one and now an 
 other beckoned to Jules, some even adding 
 pantomimic hints of the social cup. 
 
 M. St.-Ange remarked to his servant with 
 out turning his head that somehow he felt 
 sure he should soon return those bons that 
 the mulatto had lent him. 
 
 "What will you do with them?" 
 
 "Me!" said Baptiste, quickly; "I will go 
 and see the bull-fight in the Place Congo." 
 
 "There is to be a bull-fight? But where 
 isM. Cayetano?" 
 
 "Ah, got all his affairs wet in the tornado. 
 Instead of his circus, they are to have a bull 
 fight not an ordinary bull-fight with sick 
 horses, but a buffalo-and-tiger fight. I 
 would not miss it 
 
 Two or three persons ran to the oppo 
 site corner and began striking at some- 
 [25] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 thing with their canes. Others followed. 
 Can M. St.-Ange and servant, who hasten 
 forward can the Creoles, Cubans, Span 
 iards, St. Domingo refugees, and other 
 loungers can they hope it is a fight ? They 
 hurry forward. Is a man in a fit? The 
 crowd pours in from the side-streets. Have 
 they killed a so-long snake? Bareheaded 
 shopmen leave their wives, who stand upon 
 chairs. The crowd huddles and packs. 
 Those on the outside make little leaps into 
 the air, trying to be tall. 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 "Have they caught a real live rat ?" 
 
 "Who is hurt ? asks some one in English. 
 
 "Personne," replies a shopkeeper; "a 
 man s hat blow in the gutter; but he has it 
 now. Jules pick it. See, that is the man, 
 head and shoulders on top the res ." 
 [26] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 "He in the homespun?" asks a second 
 shopkeeper. "Humph! an Americain a 
 West-Floridian; bah!" 
 
 "But wait; st! he is speaking; listen!" 
 
 "To who is he speak ?" 
 
 "Sh-sh-sh! to Jules." 
 
 "Jules who?" 
 
 "Silence, you! To Jules St.-Ange, what 
 h-owe me a bill since long time. Sh-sh-sh!" 
 
 Then the voice was heard. 
 
 Its owner was a man of giant stature, with 
 a slight stoop in his shoulders, as if he were 
 making a constant, good-natured attempt to 
 accommodate himself to ordinary doors and 
 ceilings. His bones were those of an ox. 
 His face was marked more by weather than 
 age, and his narrow brow was bald and 
 smooth. He had instantaneously formed an 
 opinion of Jules St.-Ange, and the multitude 
 [27] 
 
POSSON JONE " 
 
 of words, most of them lingual curiosities, 
 with which he was rasping the wide-open 
 ears of his listeners, signified, in short, that, 
 as sure as his name was Parson Jones, the 
 little Creole was a "plumb gentleman." 
 
 M. St.-Ange bowed and smiled, and was 
 about to call attention, by both gesture and 
 speech, to a singular object on top of the still 
 uncovered head, when the nervous motion 
 of the Americain anticipated him, as, throw 
 ing up an immense hand, he drew down a 
 large roll of bank-notes. The crowd laughed, 
 the West-Floridian joining, and began to 
 disperse. 
 
 "Why, that money belongs to Smyrny 
 Church," said the giant. 
 
 "You are very dengerous to make your 
 money expose like that, Misty Posson Jone ," 
 said St.-Ange, counting it with his eyes. 
 [28] 
 
"POSSON JONE" 
 
 The countryman gave a start and smile of 
 surprise. 
 
 " How d d you know my name was Jones ? " 
 he asked; but, without pausing for the Cre 
 ole s answer, furnished in his reckless way 
 some further specimens of West-Floridian 
 English; and the conciseness with which he 
 presented full intelligence of his home, fam 
 ily, calling, lodging-house, and present and 
 future plans, might have passed for con 
 summate art, had it not been the most run- 
 wild nature. "And I ve done been to Mobile, 
 you know, on business for Bethesdy Church. 
 It s the on yest time I ever been from home; 
 now you wouldn t of believed that, would 
 you ? But I admire to have saw you, that s 
 so. You ve got to come and eat with me. 
 Me and my boy ain t been fed yit. What 
 might one call yo name ? Jools ? Come on, 
 [29] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 Jools. Come on, Colossus. That s my nig- 
 gah his name s Colossus of Rhodes. Is 
 that yo yallah boy, Jools ? Fetch him along, 
 Colossus. It seems like a special providence. 
 Jools, do you believe in a special provi 
 dence ?" 
 
 Jules remembered the roll of bank-notes 
 and said he did. 
 
 The new-made friends moved briskly off, 
 followed by Baptiste and a short, square, 
 old negro, very black and grotesque, who 
 had introduced himself to the mulatto, with 
 many glittering and cavernous smiles, as 
 "d body-sarvant of d Rev n Mr. Jones." 
 
 Both pairs enlivened their walk with con 
 versation. Parson Jones descanted upon 
 the doctrine he had mentioned, as illustrated 
 in the perplexities of cotton-growing, and 
 concluded that there would always be "a 
 [30] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 special province again cotton untell folks 
 quits a-pressin of it and haulm of it on 
 Sundays!" 
 
 "Je dis," said St.-Ange, in response, "I 
 thing you is juz right. I believe, me, strong- 
 strong in the improvidence, yes. You know 
 my papa he h-own a sugah-plantation, you 
 know. * Jules, my son, he say one time to 
 me, I goin to make one baril sugah to fedge 
 the moze high price in New Orleans. Well, 
 he take his bez baril sugah I nevah see 
 a so careful man like my papa always to 
 make a so beautiful sugah ct sirop. Jules, 
 go at Father Pierre an ged this lill pitcher 
 fill with holy-water, an tell him sen his tin 
 bucket, and I will make it fill with quitted 
 I ged the holy- water; my papa sprinkle it 
 over the baril, an make one cross on the 
 ead of the baril." 
 
 [31] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 "Why, Jools," said Parson Jones, "that 
 didn t do no good." 
 
 "Din do no good! Id broughd the so 
 great value ! You can strike me dead if thad 
 baril sugah din fedge the more high cost 
 than any other in the city. Parceque, the 
 man what buy that baril sugah he make a 
 mistake of one hundred pound falling 
 back "Mais certainlee ! " 
 
 "And you think that was growin out of 
 the holy-water?" asked the parson. 
 
 "Mais, what could make it else? Id 
 could not be the quitte, because my papa 
 keep the bucket, an forget to sen the quitte 
 to Father Pierre." 
 
 Parson Jones was disappointed. 
 
 "Well, now, Jools, you know, I don t 
 think that was right. I reckon you must be 
 
 a plumb Catholic." 
 
 [32] 
 
"POSSON JONE " 
 
 M. St.-Ange shrugged. He would not 
 deny his faith. 
 
 "I am a Catholique, mais" brightening 
 as he hoped to recommend himself anew 
 "not a good one." 
 
 "Well, you know," said Jones " where s 
 Colossus? Oh! all right. Colossus strayed 
 off a minute in Mobile, and I plumb lost him 
 for two days. Here s the place; come in. 
 Colossus and this boy can go to the kitchen. 
 Now, Colossus, what air you a-beckonin 
 at me faw?" 
 
 He let his servant draw him aside and 
 address him in a whisper. 
 
 "Oh, go Vay!" said the parson with a 
 jerk. "Who s goin to throw me? What? 
 Speak louder. Why, Colossus, you shay n t 
 talk so, saw. Ton my soul, yo re the might 
 iest fool I ever taken up with. Jest you go 
 [33] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 down that alley-way with this yallah boy, and 
 don t show yo face untell yo called!" 
 
 The negro begged; the master wrathily 
 insisted. 
 
 "Colossus, will you do ez I tell you, or 
 shell I hev to strike you, saw ?" 
 
 "O Mahs Jimmy, I I s gwine; but" 
 he ventured nearer "don t on no account 
 drink nothin , Mahs Jimmy." 
 
 Such was the negro s earnestness that he 
 put one foot in the gutter, and fell heavily 
 against his master. The parson threw him 
 off angrily. 
 
 "Thar, now! Why, Colossus, you most 
 of been dosted with sumthin ; yo plumb 
 crazy. Humph, come on, Jools, let s eat: 
 Humph! to tell me that when I never taken 
 a drop, exceptin for chills, in my life 
 which he knows so as well as me!" 
 [34] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 The two masters began to ascend a stair. 
 
 "Mais, he is a sassy; I would sell him, 
 me," said the young Creole. 
 
 "No, I wouldn t do that," replied the 
 parson; "though there is people in Bethesdy 
 who says he is a roscal. He s a powerful 
 smart fool. Why, that boy s got money, 
 Jools; more money than religion, I reckon. 
 I m shore he fallen into mighty bad com 
 pany" they passed beyond earshot. 
 
 Baptiste and Colossus, instead of going to 
 the tavern kitchen, went on to the next door 
 and entered the dark rear corner of a low 
 grocery, where, the law notwithstanding, 
 liquor was covertly sold to slaves. There, 
 in the quiet company of Baptiste and the 
 grocer, the colloquial powers of Colossus, 
 which were simply prodigious, began very 
 soon to show themselves. 
 [35] 
 
"POSSON JONE " 
 
 "For whilst," said he, "Mahs Jimmy has 
 eddication, you know whilst he has eddi- 
 cation, I has scretion. He has eddication 
 and I has scretion, an so we gits along." 
 
 He drew a black bottle down the counter, 
 and, laying half his length upon the damp 
 board, continued: 
 
 "As a p inciple I discredits de imbimin 
 of awjus liquors. De imbimin of aw jus 
 liquors, de wiolution of de Sabbaf, de playin 
 of de fiddle, and de usin of by-words, dey is 
 de fo sins of de conscience; an* if any man 
 sin de fo sins of de conscience, de debble 
 done sharp his fork fo dat man. Ain t dat 
 so, boss?" 
 
 The grocer was sure it was so. 
 
 " Neberdeless, mind you" here the orator 
 brimmed his glass from the bottle and swal 
 lowed the contents with a dry eye "mind 
 [36] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 you, a roytious man, sech as ministers of de 
 gospel and deir body-sarvants, can take a 
 leetle for de weak stomach." 
 
 But the fascinations of Colossus s elo 
 quence must not mislead us; this is the 
 story of a true Christian; to wit, Parson 
 Jones. 
 
 The parson and his new friend ate. But 
 the coffee M. St.-Ange declared he could not 
 touch; it was too wretchedly bad. At the 
 French Market, near by, there was some 
 noble coffee. This, however, would have to 
 be bought, and Parson Jones had scruples. 
 
 "You see, Jools, every man has his con 
 science to guide him, which it does so in 
 
 "Oh, yes!" cried St.-Ange, "conscien ; 
 
 thad is the bez, Posson Jone . Certainlee! 
 
 I am a Caiholique, you is a schismatique; 
 
 you thing it is wrong to dring some coffee 
 
 [37] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 well, then, it is wrong; you thing it is wrong 
 to make the sugah to ged the so large price 
 well, then, it is wrong; I thing it is right 
 well, then it is right; it is all abit; c est 
 tout. What a man thing is right, is right; tis 
 all abit. A man muz nod go again his con- 
 scien . My faith! do you thing I would go 
 again my conscien ? Mais allons, led us 
 go and ged some coffee." 
 
 "Jools." 
 
 "Wat?" 
 
 "Jools, it ain t the drinkin* of coffee, but 
 the buyin of it on a Sabbath. You must 
 really excuse me, Jools, it s again con 
 science, you know." 
 
 "Ah!" said St.-Ange, "c est very true. 
 
 For you it would be a sin, mais for me it is 
 
 only abit. Rilligion is a very strange; I 
 
 know a man one time, he thing it was wrong 
 
 [38] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 to go to cock-fight Sunday evening. I thing 
 it is all abit. Mais, come, Posson Jone ; 
 I have got one friend, Miguel; led us go at 
 his house and ged some coffee. Come; 
 Miguel have no familie; only him and Joe 
 always like to see friend; allons, led us come 
 yonder." 
 
 "Why, Jools, my dear friend, you know," 
 said the shamefaced parson, "I never visit 
 on Sundays." 
 
 "Never w at?" asked the astounded 
 Creole. 
 
 "No," said Jones, smiling awkwardly. 
 
 "Never visite ?" 
 
 "Exceptin sometimes amongst church- 
 members," said Parson Jones. 
 
 "Mais" said the seductive St.-Ange, 
 "Miguel and Joe is church-member cer- 
 
 tainlee! They love to talk about rilligion. 
 [39] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 Come at Miguel and talk about some rillig- 
 ion. I am nearly expire for my coffee." 
 
 Parson Jones took his hat from beneath 
 his chair and rose up. 
 
 " Jools," said the weak giant, "I ought to 
 be in church right now." 
 
 "Mais, the church is right yond at 
 Miguel, yes. Ah!" continued St.-Ange, as 
 they descended the stairs, "I thing every 
 man muz have the rilligion he like the bez 
 me, I like the Catholique rilligion the bez 
 for me it is the bez. Every man will sure go 
 to heaven if he like his rilligion the bez." 
 
 "Jools," said the West-Floridian, laying 
 his great hand tenderly upon the Creole s 
 shoulder, as they stepped out upon the ban 
 quette, "do you think you have any shore 
 hopes of heaven ? " 
 
 "Yaas!" replied St.-Ange; "I am sure- 
 [40] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 sure. I thing everybody will go to heaven. 
 I thing you will go, et I thing Miguel will go, 
 et Joe everybody, I thing -mais, h-of course, 
 not if they not have been christen . Even 
 I thing some niggers will go. 5 
 
 " Jools," said the parson, stopping in his 
 walk "Jools, I don t want to lose my nig- 
 gah." 
 
 "You will not loose him. With Baptiste 
 he cannot ged loose." 
 
 But Colossus s master was not reassured. 
 
 "Now," said he, still tarrying, "this is jest 
 the way ; had I of gone to church 
 
 "Posson Jone ," said Jules. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I tell you. W T e goin to church! " 
 
 "Will you?" asked Jones, joyously. 
 
 " Allons, come along," said Jules, taking 
 his elbow. 
 
 [41] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 They walked down the Rue Chartres, 
 passed several corners, and by and by turned 
 into a cross street. The parson stopped an 
 instant as they were turning, and looked 
 back up the street. 
 
 "Wat you lookin ?" asked his com 
 panion. 
 
 "I thought I saw Colossus," answered the 
 parson, with an anxious face; "I reckon 
 twa n t him, though." And they went on. 
 
 The street they now entered was a very 
 quiet one. The eye of any chance passer 
 would have been at once drawn to a broad, 
 heavy, white brick edifice on the lower side 
 of the way, with a flag-pole standing out like 
 a bowsprit from one of its great window s, 
 and a pair of lamps hanging before a large 
 closed entrance. It was a theatre, sub-let to 
 gamblers. At this morning hour all was still, 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 and the only sign of life was a knot of little 
 barefoot girls gathered within its narrow 
 shade and each carrying an infant relative. 
 Into this place the parson and M. St.-Ange 
 entered, the little nurses jumping up from 
 the sills to let them pass in. 
 
 A half-hour may have passed. At the end 
 of that time the whole juvenile company 
 were laying alternate eyes and ears to the 
 chinks, to gather what they could of an in 
 teresting quarrel going on within. 
 
 "I did not, saw! I given you no cause of 
 offence, saw! It s not so, saw! Mister Jools 
 simply mistaken the house, thinkin it was 
 a Sabbath-school! No such thing, saw; 
 I ain t bound to bet! Yes, I kin git out! 
 Yes, without bettin ! I hev a right to my 
 opinion; I reckon I m a white man, saw! 
 No, saw! I on y said I didn t think you 
 [43] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 could get the game on them cards. Sno 
 such thing, saw ! I do not know how to play ! 
 I wouldn t hev a roscal s money ef I should 
 win it ! Shoot, ef you dare ! You can kill me, 
 but you can t scare me! No, I shayn t bet! 
 I ll die first! Yes, saw; Mr. Jools can bet 
 for me if he admires to; I ain t his mostah." 
 
 Here the speaker seemed to direct his 
 words to St.-Ange. 
 
 "Saw, I don t understand you, saw. 
 I never said I d loan you money to bet on me. 
 I didn t suspicion this from you, saw. No, 
 I won t take any mo lemonade; it s the 
 most notorious stuff I ever drank, saw!" 
 
 M. St.-Ange s replies were in falsetto and 
 not without effect; for presently the parson s 
 indignation and anger began to melt. "Don t 
 ask me, Jools, I can t help you. It s no use; 
 it s a matter of conscience with me, Jools." 
 [44] 
 
m * 
 
 "Shoot, of you dare! You can kill mo, but you can t scaro mo! " 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 "Mais oui! tis a matt of conscien wid 
 me, the same." 
 
 "But, Jools, the money s none o mine, 
 nohow; it belongs to Smyrny, you know." 
 
 "If I could make juz one bet," said the 
 persuasive St.-Ange, "I would leave this 
 place, fas -fas , yes. If I had thing mais 
 I did not soupspicion this from you, Posson 
 Jone 
 
 "Don t, Jools, don t!" 
 
 "No! Posson Jone ." 
 You re bound to win?" said the parson, 
 ering. 
 
 " Mais certainement ! But it is not to win 
 that I want; tis my conscien my honor!" 
 
 "Well, Jools, I hope I m not a-doin no 
 wrong. I ll loan you some of this money if 
 you say you ll come right out thout takin 
 your winnin s." 
 
 [45] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 All was still. The peeping children could 
 see the parson as he lifted his hand to his 
 breast pocket. There it paused a moment 
 in bewilderment, then plunged to the bottom. 
 It came back empty, and fell lifelessly at his 
 side. His head dropped upon his breast, his 
 eyes were for a moment closed, his broad 
 palms were lifted and pressed against his 
 forehead, a tremor seized him, and he fell 
 all in a lump to the floor. The children ran 
 off with their infant loads, leaving Jules 
 St.-Ange swearing by all his deceased rela 
 tives, first to Miguel and Joe, and then to the 
 lifted parson, that he did not know what had 
 become of the money "except if" the black 
 man had got it. 
 
 In the rear of ancient New Orleans, be 
 yond the sites of the old rampart, (a trio of 
 [46] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 Spanish forts,) where the town has since 
 sprung up and grown old, green with all the 
 luxuriance of the wild Creole summer, lay the 
 Congo Plains. Here stretched the canvas 
 of the historic Cayetano, who Sunday after 
 Sunday sowed the sawdust for his circus-ring. 
 
 But to-day the great showman had fallen 
 short of his printed promise. The hurricane 
 had come by night, and with one fell swash 
 had made an irretrievable sop of everything. 
 The circus trailed away its bedraggled mag 
 nificence, and the ring was cleared for the 
 bull. 
 
 Then the sun seemed to come out and 
 work for the people. "See," said the Span 
 iards, looking up at the glorious sky with its 
 great white fleets drawn off upon the hori 
 zon "see heaven smiles upon the bull 
 fight!" 
 
 [47] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 In the high upper seats of the rude amphi 
 theatre sat the gayly decked wives and 
 daughters of the Gascons, from the metairies 
 along the Ridge, and the chattering Spanisli 
 women of the Market, their shining hair 
 unbonneted to the sun. Next below were 
 their husbands and lovers in Sunday blouses, 
 milkmen, butchers, bakers, black-bearded 
 fishermen, Sicilian fruiterers, swarthy Portu 
 guese sailors in little woollen caps, and 
 strangers of the graver sort; mariners of 
 England, Germany, and Holland. The low 
 est seats were full of trappers, smugglers, 
 Canadian voyageurs, drinking and singing; 
 Americains, too more s the shame from 
 the upper rivers who will not keep their 
 seats, who ply the bottle, and who will get 
 home by and by and tell how wicked Sodom 
 is; broad-brimmed, silver-braided Mexicans, 
 [48] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 also, with their copper cheeks and bat s eyes, 
 and their tinkling spurred heels. Yonder, in 
 that quieter section, are the quadroon women 
 in their black lace shawls and there is Bap- 
 tiste; and below them are the turbaned 
 black women, and there is but he vanishes 
 Colossus. 
 
 The afternoon is advancing, yet the sport, 
 though loudly demanded, does not begin. 
 The Americains grow derisive and find pas 
 time in gibes and raillery. They mock the 
 various Latins with their national inflections, 
 and answer their scowls with laughter. 
 Some of the more aggressive shout pretty 
 French greetings to the women of Gascony, 
 and one bargeman, amid peals of applause, 
 stands on a seat and hurls a kiss to the 
 quadroons. The mariners of England, 
 Germany, and Holland, as spectators, like 
 [49] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 the fun, while the Spaniards look back and 
 cast defiant imprecations upon their perse 
 cutors. Some Gascons, with timely caution, 
 pick their women out and depart, running a 
 terrible fire of gallantries. 
 
 In hope of truce, a new call is raised for 
 the bull: "The bull, the bull! hush!" 
 
 In a tier near the ground a man is stand 
 ing and calling standing head and shoul 
 ders above the rest calling in the Ameri- 
 caine tongue. Another man, big and red, 
 named Joe, and a handsome little Creole in 
 elegant dress and full of laughter, wish to 
 stop him, but the flat-boatmen, ha-ha-ing 
 and cheering, will not suffer it. Ah, through 
 some shameful knavery of the men into 
 whose hands he has fallen, he is drunk! 
 Even the women can see that; and now he 
 throws his arms wildly and raises his voice 
 [50] 
 
"POSSON JONE " 
 
 until the whole great circle hears it. He is 
 preaching ! 
 
 Ah! kind Lord, for a special providence 
 now! The men of his own nation men 
 from the land of the open English Bible and 
 temperance cup and song are cheering him 
 on to mad disgrace. And now another call 
 for the appointed sport is drowned by the 
 flat-boatmen singing the ancient tune of 
 Mear. You can hear the words 
 
 " Old Grimes is dead, that good old soul " 
 
 From ribald lips and throats turned brazen 
 with laughter, from singers who toss their 
 hats aloft and roll in their seats the chorus 
 swells to the accompaniment of a thousand 
 brogans 
 
 " He used to wear an old gray coat 
 All buttoned down before. " 
 [51] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 A ribboned man in the arena is trying to be 
 heard, and the Latins raise one mighty cry 
 for silence. The big red man gets a hand 
 over the parson s mouth, and the ribboned 
 man seizes his moment. 
 
 "They have been endeavoring for hours," 
 he says, "to draw the terrible animals from 
 their dens, but such is their strength and 
 fierceness, that 
 
 His voice is drowned. Enough has been 
 heard to warrant the inference that the 
 beasts cannot be whipped out of the storm- 
 drenched cages to which menagerie life and 
 long starvation have attached them, and 
 from the roar of indignation the man of 
 ribbons flies. The noise increases. Men are 
 standing up by hundreds, and women are 
 imploring to be let out of the turmoil. All 
 at once, like the bursting of a dam, the whole 
 [521 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 mass pours down into the ring. They sweep 
 across the arena and over the showman s 
 barriers. Miguel gets a frightful trampling. 
 Who cares for gates or doors ? They tear the 
 beasts houses bar from bar, and, laying hold 
 of the gaunt buffalo, drag him forth by feet, 
 ears, and tail; and in the midst of the melee, 
 still head and shoulders above all, wilder, 
 with the cup of the wicked, than any beast, 
 is the man of God from the Florida parishes ! 
 In his arms he bore and all the people 
 shouted at once when they saw it the tiger. 
 He had lifted it high up with its back to his 
 breast, his arms clasped under its shoulders; 
 the wretched brute had curled up caterpillar- 
 wise, w r ith its long tail against its belly, and 
 through its filed teeth grinned a fixed and 
 impotent wrath. And Parson Jones was 
 shouting : 
 
 [53] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 "The tiger and the buffle,r shell lay down 
 together! You dah to say they shayn t and 
 I ll comb you with this varmint from head 
 to foot! The tiger and the huffier shell lay 
 down together. They sJiell. Now, you, 
 Joe! Behold! I am here to see it done. 
 The lion and the buffler shell lay down 
 together!" 
 
 Mouthing these words again and again, 
 the parson forced his way through the surge 
 in the wake of the buffalo. This creature 
 the Latins had secured by a lariat over his 
 head, and were dragging across the old ram 
 part and into a street of the city. 
 
 The northern races were trying to prevent, 
 and there was pommelling and knocking 
 down, cursing and knife drawing, until Jules 
 St.-Ange was quite carried away with the 
 fun, laughed, clapped his hands, and swore 
 [54] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 with delight, and ever kept close to the gal 
 lant parson. 
 
 Joe, contrariwise, counted all this child s 
 play an interruption. He had corne to find 
 Colossus and the money. In an unlucky 
 moment he made bold to lay hold of the 
 parson, but a piece of the broken barriers in 
 the hands of a flat-boatman felled him to 
 the sod, the terrible crowd swept over him, 
 the lariat was cut, and the giant parson 
 hurled the tiger upon the buffalo s back. In 
 another instant both brutes were dead at the 
 hands of the mob; Jones was lifted from his 
 feet, and prating of Scripture and the mil 
 lennium, of Paul at Ephesus and Daniel in 
 the "buffler s" den, was borne aloft upon the 
 shoulders of the huzzaing Americains. Half 
 an hour later he was sleeping heavily on the 
 floor of a cell in the calaboza. 
 [55] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 When Parson Jones awoke, a bell was 
 somewhere tolling for midnight. Somebody 
 was at the door of his cell with a key. The 
 lock grated, the door swung, the turnkey 
 looked in and stepped back, and a ray of 
 moonlight fell upon M. Jules St.-Ange. The 
 prisoner sat upon the empty shackles and 
 ring-bolt in the centre of the floor. 
 
 "Misty Posson Jone ," said the visitor, 
 softly. 
 
 "O Jools!" 
 
 "Mais, w at de matter, Posson Jone ?" 
 
 "My sins, Jools, my sins!" 
 
 "Ah! Posson Jone , is that something to 
 cry, because a man get sometime a litt bit 
 intoxicate ? Mais, if a man keep all the time in 
 toxicate, I think that is again the conscien . " 
 
 "Jools, Jools, your eyes is darkened oh! 
 Jools, where s my pore old niggah?" 
 [56] 
 
A ray of moonlight fell upon M. Jules St.-Ange 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 "Posson Jone , never mine; he is wid 
 Baptiste." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "I don know w ere metis he is wid Bap 
 tiste. Baptiste is a beautiful to take care of 
 somebody." 
 
 "Is he as good as you, Jools ?" asked Par 
 son Jones, sincerely. 
 
 Jules was slightly staggered. 
 
 "You know, Posson Jone , you know, 
 a nigger cannot be good as a w ite man 
 mais Baptiste is a good nigger." 
 
 The parson moaned and dropped his chin 
 into his hands. 
 
 "I was to of left for home to-morrow, 
 sun up, on the Isabella schooner. Pore 
 Smyrny!" He sighed deeply. 
 
 "Posson Jone ," said Jules, leaning against 
 the wall and smiling, " I swear you is the moz 
 [57] 
 
POSSON JONE " 
 
 * 
 funny man what I never see. If I was you I 
 
 would say, me, Ah! ow I am lucky! the 
 money I los , it was not mine, anyhow! My 
 faith! shall a man make hisse f to be the 
 more sorry because the money he los is not 
 his? Me, I would say, it is a specious 
 providence. 
 
 "Ah! Misty Posson Jone ," he contin 
 ued, "you make a so droll sermon ad the . 
 bull-ring. Ha! ha! I swear I thing you can* 
 make money to preach thad sermon many 
 time ad the theatre St. Philippe. Hah! you 
 is the moz brave dat I never see, mais ad the 
 same time the moz rilligious man. Where 
 I m goin to fin one priest to make like dat ? 
 Mais, why you can t cheer up an be appy ? 
 Me, if I should be miserabl like dat I would 
 kill meself." 
 
 The countryman only shook his head. 
 [58] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 "Bicn, Posson Jone , I have the so good 
 news for you." 
 
 The prisoner looked up with eager in 
 quiry. 
 
 "Laz evening when they lock you, I 
 come right off at M. De Blanc s house to get 
 you let out of the calaboose; M. De Blanc 
 he is the judge. So soon I was entering 
 Ah! Jules, my boy, juz the man to make 
 complete the game ! Posson Jone , it was 
 a specious providence! I win in t ree hours 
 more dan six hundred dollah ! Look." He 
 produced a mass of bank-notes, bons, and 
 due-bills. 
 
 "And you got the pass?" asked the par 
 son, regarding the money with a strange 
 sadness. 
 
 "It is here; it take the effect so soon the 
 daylight." 
 
 [59] 
 
POSSON JONE " 
 
 "Jools, my friend, your kindness is in 
 vain." 
 
 The Creole s face became a perfect blank. 
 
 "Because," said the parson, "for two 
 reasons: firstly, I have broken the laws, and 
 ought to stand the penalty; and secondly 
 you must really excuse me, Jools, you know, 
 but the pass has been got onf airly, I m 
 afeerd. You told the judge I was innocent; 
 and in neither case it don t become a Chris 
 tian (which I hope I can still say I am one) 
 to do evil that good may come. I muss 
 stay." 
 
 M. St.-Ange stood up aghast, and for a 
 moment speechless, at this exhibition of 
 moral heroism ; but an artifice was presently 
 hit upon. "Mais, Posson Jone !" in his 
 old falsetto "de order you cannot read it, 
 it is in French compel you to go h-out, sir!" 
 [60] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 "Is that so?" cried the parson, bounding 
 up with radiant face "is that so, Jools?" 
 
 The young man nodded, smiling; but, 
 though he smiled, the fountain of his tender 
 ness was opened. He made the sign of the 
 cross as the parson knelt in prayer, and even 
 whispered "Hail Mary," etc., quite through, 
 twice over. 
 
 Morning broke in summer glory upon 
 a cluster of villas behind the city, nestled un- 
 under live-oaks and magnolias on the banks 
 of a deep bayou, and known as Suburb St. 
 Jean. 
 
 With the first beam came the West-Florid- 
 ian and the Creole out upon the bank below 
 the village. Upon the parson s arm hung 
 a pair of antique saddle-bags. Baptiste 
 limped wearily behind; both his eyes were 
 encircled with broad blue rings, and one 
 [61] 
 
"POSSON JONE" 
 
 cheek-bone bore the official impress of every 
 knuckle of Colossus s left hand. The 
 "beautiful to take care of somebody" had 
 lost his charge. At mention of the negro he 
 became wild, and, half in English, half in the 
 "gumbo" dialect, said murderous things. 
 Intimidated by Jules to calmness, he became 
 able to speak confidently on one point; he 
 could, would, and did swear that Colossus 
 had gone home to the Florida parishes; he 
 was almost certain; in fact, he thought so. 
 
 There was a clicking of pulleys as the 
 three appeared upon the bayou s margin, 
 and Baptiste pointed out, in the deep shadow 
 of a great oak, the Isabella, moored among 
 the bulrushes, and just spreading her sails 
 for departure. Moving down to where she 
 lay, the parson and his friend paused on the 
 bank, loath to say farewell. 
 [62] 
 
" POSSON JONE 
 
 "O Jools!" said the parson, "supposin 
 Colossus ain t gone home! () Jools, if you ll 
 look him out for me, I ll never forget you 
 I ll never forget you, nohow, Jools. No, 
 Jools, I never will believe he taken that 
 money. Yes, I know all niggahs will steal" 
 he set foot upon the gang-plank "but 
 Colossus wouldn t steal from me. Good-by." 
 
 "Misty Posson Jone ," said St.-Ange, 
 putting his hand on the parson s arm with 
 genuine affection, "hoi* on. You see dis 
 money w at I win las night? Well, I AVJH 
 it by a specious providence, ain t it ?" 
 
 "There s no tellin ," said the humbled 
 Jones. "Providence 
 
 * Moves in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform. ; 
 
 "Ah!" cried the Creole, "c est very true. 
 I ged dis money in the mysterieuze way. 
 [63] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 Mais, if I keep dis money, you know where 
 it goin be to-night ?" 
 
 "I really can t say," replied the parson. 
 
 "Goiri to the dev ," said the sweetly 
 smiling young man. 
 
 The schooner captain, leaning against the 
 shrouds, and even Baptiste, laughed outright. 
 
 "O Jools, you mustn t!" 
 
 "Well, den, w at I shall do wid it?" 
 
 " Any thing !" answered the parson; "bet 
 ter donate it away to some poor man 
 
 "Ah! Misty Posson Jone , dat is w at I 
 want. You los five hondred dollah twas 
 my fault." 
 
 "No, itwa n t, Jools." 
 
 "Mais, it was!** 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "It was my fault! I swear it was my 
 fault! Mais, here is five hondred dollah ; 
 [64] 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 I wish you shall take it. Here ! I don t got 
 no use for money. Oh, my faith! Posson 
 Jone , you must not begin to cry some more." 
 
 Parson Jones was choked with tears. 
 When he found voice he said : 
 
 "O Jools, Jools, Jools! my pore, noble, 
 dear, misguidened friend ! ef you hed of hed 
 a Christian raisin ! May the Lord show you 
 your errors, better n I kin, and bless you for 
 your good intentions oh, no ! I cay n t touch 
 that money with a ten-foot pole; it wa n t 
 rightly got; you must really excuse me, my 
 dear friend, but I cayn t touch it." 
 
 St.-Ange was petrified. 
 
 "Good-by, dear Jools," continued the 
 parson. "I m in the Lord s haynds, and he s 
 very merciful, which I hope and trust you ll 
 find it out. Good-by ! " the schooner swung 
 slowly off before the breeze "good-by!" 
 [65] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 St.-Ange roused himself. 
 
 "Posson Jone ! make me hany ow dis 
 promise: you never, never, never will come 
 back to New Orleans." 
 
 "Ah, Jools, the Lord willin , I ll never 
 leave home again!" 
 
 "All right!" cried the Creole; "I thing 
 He s willin . Adieu, Posson Jone . My 
 faith ! you are the so fighting an moz ril- 
 ligious man as I never saw ! Adieu ! Adieu ! " 
 
 Baptiste uttered a cry and presently ran 
 by his master toward the schooner, his 
 hands full of clods. 
 
 St.-Ange looked just in time to see the sa 
 ble form of Colossus of Rhodes emerge from 
 the vessel s hold, and the pastor of Smyrna 
 and Bethesda seize him in his embrace. 
 
 "O Colossus! you outlandish old niggah! 
 Thank the Lord! Thank the Lord!" 
 [66] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 The little Creole almost wept. He ran 
 down the tow-path, laughing and swearing, 
 and making confused allusion to the en 
 tire personnel and furniture of the lower 
 regions. 
 
 By odd fortune, at the moment that St.- 
 Ange further demonstrated his delight by 
 tripping his mulatto into a bog, the schooner 
 came brushing along the reedy bank with 
 a graceful curve, the sails flapped, and the 
 crew fell to poling her slowly along. 
 
 Parson Jones was on the deck, kneeling 
 once more in prayer. His hat had fallen 
 before him; behind him knelt his slave. In 
 thundering tones he was confessing himself 
 "a plumb fool," from whom "the conceit had 
 been jolted out," and who had been made to 
 see that even his " nigger had the longest head 
 of the two." 
 
 [67] 
 
"POSSON JONE " 
 
 Colossus clasped his hands and groaned. 
 
 The parson prayed for a contrite heart. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" cried Colossus. 
 
 The master acknowledged countless mer 
 cies. 
 
 "Dat s so!" cried the slave. 
 
 The master prayed that they might still 
 be "piled on." 
 
 "Glory!" cried the black man, clapping 
 his hands; "pile on!" 
 
 "An* now," continued the parson, "bring 
 this pore, backslidin jackace of a parson 
 and this pore ole fool niggah back to thar 
 home in peace!" 
 
 "Pray fo de money!" called Colossus. 
 
 But the parson prayed for Jules. 
 
 "Pray fo de money!" repeated the negro. 
 
 "And oh, give thy servant back that there 
 
 lost money!" 
 
 [68] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 Colossus rose stealthily, and tiptoed by 
 his still shouting master. St.-Ange, the cap 
 tain, the crew, gazed in silent wonder at the 
 strategist. Pausing but an instant over the 
 master s hat to grin an acknowledgment of 
 his beholders speechless interest, he softly 
 placed in it the faithfully mourned and hon 
 estly prayed-for Smyrna fund; then, saluted 
 by the gesticulative, silent applause of St.- 
 Ange and the schooner men, he resumed his 
 first attitude behind his roaring master. 
 
 "Amen!" cried Colossus, meaning to 
 bring him to a close. 
 
 "Onworthy though I be cried Jones. 
 
 "Amen!" reiterated the negro. 
 
 "A-a-amen!" said Parson Jones. 
 
 He rose to his feet, and, stooping to take 
 up his hat, beheld the well-known roll. As 
 one stunned he gazed for a moment upon his 
 [69] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 slave, who still knelt with clasped hands and 
 rolling eyeballs; but when he became aware 
 of the laughter and cheers that greeted him 
 from both deck and shore, he lifted eyes and 
 hands to heaven, and cried like the veriest 
 babe. And when he looked at the roll again, 
 and hugged and kissed it, St.-Ange tried to 
 raise a second shout, but choked, and the 
 crew fell to their poles. 
 
 And now up runs Baptiste, covered with 
 slime, and prepares to cast his projectiles. 
 The first one fell wide of the mark; the 
 schooner swung round into a long reach of 
 water, where the breeze was in her favor; 
 another shout of laughter drowned the male 
 dictions of the muddy man; the sails filled; 
 Colossus of Rhodes, smiling and bowing as 
 hero of the moment, ducked as the main 
 boom swept round, and the schooner, lean- 
 [701 
 
Colossus rose stealthily and tiptoed by his still shouting 
 master 
 
POSSON JONE 
 
 ing slightly to the pleasant influence, rustled 
 a moment over the bulrushes, and then sped 
 far away down the rippling bayou. 
 
 M. Jules St.-Ange stood long, gazing at 
 the receding vessel as it now disappeared, 
 now reappeared beyond the tops of the high 
 undergrowth; but, when an arm of the for 
 est hid it finally from sight, he turned town- 
 ward, followed by that fagged-out spaniel, 
 his servant, saying, as he turned, "Bap- 
 tiste." 
 
 "Miche?" 
 
 "You know w at I goin do wid dis 
 money ?" 
 
 " Non, miche." 
 
 "Well, you can strike me dead if I don t 
 goin to pay hall my debts! Allonsl " 
 
 He began a merry little song to the effect 
 that his sweetheart was a wine-bottle, and 
 [71] 
 
"POSSON JONE 
 
 master and man, leaving care behind, re 
 turned to the picturesque Rue Royale. The 
 ways of Providence are indeed strange. In 
 all Parson Jones s after life, amid the many 
 painful reminiscences of his visit to the City 
 of the Plain, the sweet knowledge was with 
 held from him that by the light of the Chris 
 tian virtue that shone from him even in his 
 great fall, Jules St.-Ange arose, and went to 
 his father an honest man. 
 
 [72] 
 
PERK RAPHAEL 
 
 \ 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 WHEN Jules St.-Ange said to 
 Parson Jones in the cala 
 boose, "M. De Blanc, he is 
 the judge," he abridged. The judge was 
 M. Rene De Blanc St.-Ange his father. 
 
 The St.-Ange house stood on the swamp 
 side of the Rue Royale, next to a corner 
 of that very intersection with Conti Street 
 where Jones and Jules first met. It opened 
 on the sidewalk and had at its ground floor, 
 extending from the street-door steps on its 
 right to the porte-cochere on the left, a nar 
 row, hooded balcony masked by a lattice 
 along its sidewalk face and across its porte- 
 cochere end. In the great batten gate of the 
 porte-cochere was the usual small one for 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 servants, and close to it, in the balcony lattice, 
 a very small hinged window. Into this bal 
 cony let also the long French windows of the 
 drawing-room. Its unlatticed end, by the 
 front door, was fair with potted flowers, and 
 through the railing there one might pass to 
 the steps and the street. 
 
 The adjoining edifice on the right, at the 
 corner, was a prim affair of whose sort one 
 was a great plenty a gambling-house. 
 Happily its main entrance was on its broader 
 face, around in Conti Street, where it called 
 itself a theatre. Let us not be intolerant; in 
 the judge s own house there was lively card- 
 playing every evening, and few could sur 
 pass the brilliancy of his own betting. 
 
 "What harm is that betting," asked the 
 judge, "if the game is fair? In one s own 
 domiceel, with fran ," (friends,) "ah! think! 
 [76] 
 
P E R E R A P II A E L 
 
 out of what mischieve it may kceb them 
 on Sonday evenings!" The judge, his fam 
 ily of three, and even the servants were 
 more or less addicted to what they be 
 lieved was the English tongue. "Lang-uage 
 of the law and those court ," he affably 
 apologized, "and sinze appointed on the 
 bench tis biccome one of my bad abit ." 
 
 He had long been a widower, the executive 
 head of his house was his maiden sister, and 
 both facts may, in part, explain the further 
 one that his son was already a bitter disap 
 pointment. This very afternoon father and 
 son had quarrelled and the son had been 
 forbidden the house. Florestine, youngest 
 of the household, was really not a relative, 
 but the orphan of the judge s old law part 
 ner. She was as beautiful and intelligent as 
 she was high-spirited, and the judge doted 
 [77] 
 
P E II E RAP II A E L 
 
 on high spirit. His last hope for his son lay 
 in the young man s invincible mettle. 
 
 Within an hour after the rupture there 
 came to the house those "only two really 
 dear and good Ame ricaines in the worl , 
 although Protestan , alas!" the widow 
 Merrifield and her mild blue-eyed daughter 
 Abigail. Mrs. Merrifield s call was not 
 merely social; she had a matter in hand 
 which she could not with comfort carry di 
 rectly to the widower judge, albeit he was an 
 old friend and her lawyer; yet it was a mat 
 ter in which, through his sister, she must 
 seek his kind offices. For it was one in 
 which only a Creole gentleman could know 
 how to intervene, and she had already made 
 bold to refer to him M. Dimitry Davezac, 
 another and much younger Creole gentle 
 man. Had he called ? No ? She was glad. 
 [78] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 Yes, the matter was about Abby, and when 
 the mother had stated it to Mademoiselle 
 St.-Ange while Florestine had led Abigail 
 up-stairs to a conversation quite as private 
 and far more intense and the judge s sister 
 came back from the judge s part of the house 
 and from telling him the Davezac case, the 
 widow s heart was lighter. 
 
 And now she and Abby must fly, night 
 was so near. But a coming storm thundered 
 No! and mademoiselle calmed them with 
 the assurance that after the rain Florestine s 
 maid Caroline, with one of the men-servants, 
 should conduct them home, since the judge 
 could not. 
 
 "On account those sore h-eye ," he ex 
 plained with gallant regret, touching the 
 green pasteboard shade which overhung his 
 brows. "But, any ow," he said, "that pain 
 [79] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 of the light is now nearly pass . Thangs be 
 to God, those sigs week to wear me that 
 accursed thing, they finizh on the day after 
 to-morrow; then tis my ope to ave the 
 more smooth tamper." 
 
 The five were yet standing together when 
 the rain began to fall, and Caroline ushered 
 in kind old Father Pierre, taking refuge from 
 the weather. Good company he was, and an 
 hour passed brightly while all tongues ran 
 nimbly, and five hearts, not counting his, hid 
 each its own distress. A second hour fol 
 lowed, and then, in a lull of the tremendous 
 rain, the good priest, laughing away the 
 judge s protest, rose to go. The Merrifields 
 openly admired his masculine ability to 
 pooh-pooh the "must not" of a friend. 
 
 As the two men stepped out into the shel 
 tered balcony the judge had new wrenchings 
 [80] 
 
P E R E R A P II A E L 
 
 of secret torture to think of his son out in 
 this tempest with no better comfort than the 
 companionship of that mulatto scamp Bap- 
 tiste Caroline s lover, by the way. All at 
 once, hardly knowing what he did, he told 
 the bare fact of the quarrel and then as 
 abruptly changed the subject. "But, my 
 faith! how that Florestine has been to me 
 an angel those sigs week of those sore 
 h-eye ! Had it not ave been for that Flor 
 estine I muz ave suffer those sigs week 
 without one game of card ." 
 
 Caroline stood at close earshot just there 
 in the porte-cochere wicket, where she had 
 come to catch any stray news there might 
 be of her momselle Florestine s beloved Jules 
 and her own "triflin" Baptiste, and she 
 heard even Father Pierre s soft words. 
 
 "My fran ," said he after a moment of 
 [81] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 meditation, "you muz not priv-ent yo son 
 to make that h-angel yo daughter." 
 
 Caroline, in a wild gladness, listened on. 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the judge, "my son he 
 muz not priv-ent me to make her my daugh 
 ter. You know well I have swear that to her 
 father; but also I have swear him that my 
 son shall not know that till he get her, and 
 he shall not have her till he is fit!" 
 
 " Fit ? Ah, well, when tha z going to be ? " 
 
 "Father Pierre, you preach againz those 
 seven sin, eh ? You are a pries , you got to 
 do that. Me, I preach only againz one; 
 that is debt! When my son pay h-all his 
 debt he can have Florestine; but biftV ? 
 he shall not even h-ask for her." 
 
 "Ah! but ad the same time, so soon he 
 say--" 
 
 "No; only so soon he pay!" 
 [82] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Yes; but I thing if you let me tell him 
 he can have her so soon he pay 
 
 "No-o! When he have pay that laz 
 dolla / will tell him if he can have her or 
 no. But he you know what he say ? He 
 tell me when I be ready to say he can have 
 her, then he let me know if he goin pay any 
 of those debt ." 
 
 "But if he ave no money 
 
 "Let him go to work, sacre tonn par 
 don! He shall not one dollah risceive from 
 me till he pay his debt , not to save the life ! 
 Well, good-night biffo it rain hard some 
 mo Father Pierre, a moment! I am no 
 miser, meno! That hour my son is finizh 
 to pay those debt , I swear you, I give him 
 back aggain two dollah for one, every dollah 
 he have pay. Only tha z another thing he 
 muz not know biffo . Well, good-night!" 
 [83] 
 
P E R E R A P II A E L 
 
 The judge watched his friend hurry 
 away through the wet lamplight. The skies 
 poured again, and he from the balcony- 
 Caroline from the wicket fled into the 
 house. There the Merrifields were bowing 
 to the decree of mademoiselle and Florestine 
 that they must stay all night. Who could 
 argue against such a pair backed by such a 
 sky? While they asked the door-bell rang, 
 and with their hostess they started for their 
 rooms; but Florestine untwined her arms 
 from Abigail, laid them on her guardian s 
 neck, and offered to stay with him and once 
 more be his eyes. The other three hurried 
 on up-stairs and M. Davezac entered. 
 
 How the storm-delayed suitor had con 
 trived, after all, to arrive so nearly dry was 
 remarkable, only his feet being wet enough 
 to justify his neglect of an invitation to be 
 [84] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 seated. Manifestly he was from the country 
 the sugar country and as haughty as he 
 was handsome. His dress was odd, even for 
 New Orleans. He wore buckskin breeches 
 above his exquisite top-boots, and a fawn- 
 skin vest under his voluminous coat, giving 
 an effect half pioneer, half Incroyable. To 
 Florestine, as she sat close to her guard 
 ian s ear, he seemed, save Jules, as fair a 
 youth as she had ever looked upon. The 
 judge explained her presence and his dis 
 figuring green shade, and at once came to 
 business. 
 
 "Madame MerrifieP she say you come 
 tell her you every day passin at Place Congo, 
 by her house, see her daughter up on bal- 
 conie, and fall in love to her till you cann 
 stan that no mo , and you want madame let 
 you come make visite." 
 [85] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 The youth bowed grandly: "Tha z 
 w at I want." 
 
 "Yes. Well, tha z maybee h-all right, 
 if you got some fran want to speak good 
 word for you." 
 
 "No, m sieu ." The lover stiffened up till 
 he could but just peer down over his lower 
 lashes: "h-all those fran livin on planta 
 tion ." 
 
 But the judge, still wrung with the pain 
 of having parted two lovers, had no inclina 
 tion to part another two. "Tha z an un 
 fortunate," he said. "Any ow, me, I bil- 
 ieve you one gen leman, though I m not ab e 
 to see you, bic-ause those sore h-eye . That 
 be pretty good, if you get fran on plantation 
 send sairtifi-cate." 
 
 The young man stood with chin lifted 
 and eyes dropped. "M sieu , I bet you 
 [861 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 w at you want; I swear you w at you want; 
 I fight you who you want; but sairtifi-cafc ? 
 -bah!" 
 
 " But sit down. I bil-ieve I like you pretty 
 good. Me, I don want you to bet, neither 
 to fight; only I like you to swear me one 
 thing the truth." 
 
 The petitioner somewhat relaxed: "Verie 
 well, m sieu ; I swear you the truth, I don 
 care w at it is." 
 
 "Verie well. You h-owe some debt , I 
 sue-pose; ow much you h-owe?" 
 
 The youth showed a faint smile of scorn. 
 "Not one dollah," he said, and hardened his 
 neck as he added, "even to my papa." 
 Catching signs of approval from Florestine, 
 he condescended further: " Tis to ezcape 
 that that I am from home. I could ave res 
 yond so long I want. I am a Davezac!" 
 [871 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 He curved back until he had to lean on his 
 cane. Florestine whispered some suggestion 
 to the judge, who murmured his approval 
 of it. 
 
 " Sieur Davezac," he said, "you don t 
 got one father con-i essor ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied the suitor; but when he 
 discerned Florestine s wish that he would 
 show himself more compliant, he added : 
 "Yes, m sieu , tha z Pere Raphael. I shall 
 send you Pere Raphael ? " 
 
 "Pere eh Raphael eh?" mused the 
 judge. "Ah, I dunno; I thing I m maybee 
 not verie well acquain d with that father. 
 He s a verie h-old, that Pere Raphael?" 
 
 The young man darkened; he suspected 
 a sly attempt at cross-examination. "No, 
 m sieu ; that Pere Raphael he s a verie 
 
 yo ng-" 
 
 [88] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Ah, yes; a verie yo ng, yes; but is he not 
 a verie large fat ? " 
 
 M. Davezac bridled. "No, m sieu ; he s 
 a verie small thin." 
 
 The judge seemed all at once to remember: 
 "Ah, yes! But exceb the hand and feet, 
 eh?" 
 
 The reply came with a smile as sweet as 
 Florestine s, yet distinctly threatening: "No, 
 m sieu ; hand and feet same size my ear , 
 and I ope my inquisitor he don t find those 
 the ear of a jack-ass ? " 
 
 Florestine colored in protest, but the judge 
 laughed outright. "Ah, no-o! Send me 
 that Pere Raphael. If I like him so well I 
 like you, that be h-all right." 
 
 At a pause in the storm the visitor bowed 
 himself out. The judge went to his room, 
 Florestine mounted to hers. There she 
 [89] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 learned from Caroline the glorious things 
 overheard at the porte-cochere wicket, and 
 between her distress for the storm-beaten 
 Jules and her vivid and highly practical 
 plannings to make use of her dear guardi 
 an s incautious revelations, she slept as 
 little, all night, as the judge or his sister or 
 Madame Merrifield 
 
 The Sabbath began to dawn, the rain- 
 spent clouds to break, and Florestine, for the 
 hundredth time, looked down into the 
 drenched and still lamplighted street. Her 
 mind revolved an astounding plot she had 
 laid while others slept. She was seeking its 
 moral justification. 
 
 "To the gayest endurance," thought she, 
 "there is a limit. People have no right to 
 forget that. The judge has no right. No 
 [901 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 more has dear Tante" as she called 
 mademoiselle St.-Ange. "Yet only Caroline 
 remembers ah, faithful Caroline! But 
 where is she presently, that frightful lag 
 gard ? " The sufferer tearfully smiled. 
 
 She lingered at the open casement, taking 
 comfort in the triumphant rearising of the 
 storm-swept city. Remotely she could hear 
 the shock-headed Gascons of the French 
 Market whistling and singing and making 
 its vaults resound with the ring of their busy 
 cleavers. 
 
 "How happy," she sighed, "is the lot of 
 the butcher!" 
 
 A watchman, with lantern and leather 
 helmet, came up the street and gave three 
 slowly swung taps of his iron-shod club on 
 the corner curbstone as a signal to his fel 
 lows. "What a care-free life is that of the 
 [91] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 watchman! as, likewise," her contempla 
 tion taking in a two-wheeled milk-cart and 
 a two-wheeled bread-cart wildly tilted in the 
 mire, stalled and abandoned "as likewise 
 the life of the milkman and the baker!" 
 
 The carts stood under a lamp which, from 
 a great crane, overhung the two ways. An 
 hour earlier she had seen them crash to 
 gether, and it had been balm to her soul s 
 wounds to hear their drivers exchange the 
 compliments customary on such occasions. 
 "What splandid liberties are to the milk 
 man, the bread man while to the gayest 
 and moze girlish enduranze there is a limit!" 
 
 A lamplighter passed, quenching the 
 lamps: " Ow appy is the lot of the lamp 
 lighter!" 
 
 Day broadened; one could read a distant 
 poster that promised amazing things for 
 [92] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 Cayetano s Circus on the Place Congo. 
 The shops began to open, yonder pawnshop 
 down street on the farther side not excepted. 
 Men and women, white, black, yellow, 
 passed with market-baskets on arm, and 
 here came a slave maid as straight as an 
 Egyptian and as black as Creole coffee, with 
 a huge basket, heaping full, on her head. 
 At the porte-cochere a milkman sent in his 
 usual catcall, and the wicket latch clinked. 
 That was Caroline with her pitcher. 
 
 Florestine saw the departing milkman 
 turn the upper street corner, but heard no 
 wicket reclosed: "Ah, Caroline, murder 
 ess!" she inwardly cried, "do you want to 
 bring yo miztrezz ad the door of death, 
 standing idle, doubtlezz, down there in the 
 alf-open wicket?" 
 
 She did not guess that Baptiste had come 
 [93] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 upon the scene, nor could she hear any note 
 of Caroline s wary speech: "No, suh! no 
 milk fo you tell you go an come ag in; an 
 no mo sweet-sweetenin o dis yeh gal tell 
 she know who gwine marry her missy! By 
 de law I goes wid my missy, thaynk Gawd ! 
 an I don go sweetheartenin wid no French 
 yalleh niggah to-day to be his grass-widdeh 
 to-morrow! No, suh; you go ten times fas- 
 teh n you come, an fetch me yo mawsteh!" 
 
 A bread man filled the maid s arms with 
 loaves and hurried on. She gave one to the 
 mulatto. "Here, pig; now fo de Lawd s 
 sake, run on an 
 
 "Yass, yass; but, Caroline, y ought to 
 see ! All behine Rue Bourgogne h-overflow !" 
 
 "Lawd a massy! man, I wants to see 
 Miche Jules ! I got dat news fo Miche Jules, 
 
 what " 
 
 [94] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 The messenger went, but Abigail Merri- 
 field, slipping down through the drawing- 
 room and out into the latticed balcony, 
 heard Caroline moan after him, to see him 
 stop and share his loaf with a very black and 
 rustic old negro who presently moved on 
 with him out of sight. With the wicket shut 
 Abigail breathed easier, though still in a 
 tremor of hope, longing, and self-blame. 
 
 She was just in time. Dimitry Davezac 
 came up the far side of the street with the 
 high-minded air of a man who could always 
 be counted on. As he passed, as he glanced 
 across at all the upper balconies of the 
 house, and as he looked back while he turned 
 riverward into the Rue Conti, Abigail, in 
 the lattice, as badly frightened as she was 
 well hid, stood as still as a stone. Her heart 
 pounded like a ship on a reef it was a ship 
 [95] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 on a reef! Oh, what would her mother say 
 if she knew her child had not the self-com 
 mand, the moral force, even to retreat into 
 the house ? The question gave her strength 
 to start, but at that moment some one entered 
 the drawing-room and she could only stand 
 petrified again. 
 
 Around in the Rue Conti the young man s 
 steps flagged flagged ceased. He laid 
 the head of his cane to his lips. Then he 
 pressed smartly on again. This was but 
 for a moment, however, and his trim feet 
 went slowly once more. He stopped, 
 turned half round, looked back, consulted 
 his watch, frowned. All pure stage-play; 
 he was recollecting nothing which he had 
 left behind and must return for; yet now he 
 went back. At the same time Abigail was 
 having great relief from her fears. Who- 
 [96] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 ever had come into the drawing-room, she 
 thought, must have gone out again, it was 
 so still. Here at hand offered itself, more 
 over, a plausible task, and with healing 
 caresses she began to reanimate the storm- 
 torn flowers at the open end of the balcony. 
 Now she soothed this one and now that , and 
 this, and this, and this; reaching, bending, 
 drawing back, half straightening, and bend 
 ing again, a languid flower herself, while 
 Dimitry came once more into view and 
 moved down the farther sidewalk. 
 
 "What odd chimneys and dormer-win 
 dows!" his manner implied, and she saw 
 him even when he had got entirely at her 
 back. Ah, but she should have seen more! 
 The very flowers, laughing through their 
 grateful tears, tried to cry, "Look behind 
 you, benefactress! Look, Abigail, behind 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 you in the balcony!" For who had unlaw 
 fully slipped into this show and was seeing 
 the whole performance free but Florestine ! 
 
 Davezac was gone, yet Abby s touch lin 
 gered among the flowers, and not until a 
 voice as soft as their perfume called her name 
 did she flash round to stare and gasp. Sud 
 denly her tears shone and she clung to the 
 arm of her friend. "I couldn t sleep. I 
 couldnt keep my room." 
 
 "Ah, tha z not the fault of you. Tha z 
 the fault of Tante to give you that room 
 behine yo mama, and withoud balconie-e!" 
 
 "Oh, Florestine, this is the first time in 
 my life I ever 
 
 "Did anything! Ah, ha, ha! I billieve 
 you, Abbee; I billieve that, my faith!" 
 
 "Oh, oh! If you could only have told me 
 last night what took place b etween the judge 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 and and him, I might now be honestly 
 asleep." 
 
 "Ah, I cou n he p that. I had to keep 
 me with the judge till the en , biccause those 
 sore h-eye . Then, after, I cou n come to 
 you in that room behine. I can tell you 
 now, but I don t want tell you if that goin 
 put you as-leep." 
 
 But Abigail begged and Florestine told. 
 
 As she finished "Oh, Florestine, Flor 
 estine," cried her listener, "you ve made his 
 heart s fortune his and mine together ! 
 
 "Attendez wait; tha z not sure yet. 
 We dunno if that Pere Raphael of the so 
 small han an feet, ha, ha! be willing to 
 come. And even if he come we dunno if the 
 judge goin be please with Pere Raphael." 
 
 "Oh, but he will, he will. Ah, darling, 
 how can I ever repay you ? " 
 [99] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "You want to know? Come! Come 
 inside! You can pay in advanze." They 
 hastened to Florestine s chamber, where 
 Florestine explained. "You shall make 
 Sieur Davezac take me this letter to Jules." 
 She showed one. "Ah, Abbee, ow glad the 
 good God muz be, now, that he led them 
 teach me to write! But firz I ll tell you 
 w at Caroline fine out laz night from the 
 judge." 
 
 While she recounted the entrancing story, 
 Jules St.-Ange, with Baptiste at his back, 
 stood on the sidewalk close by his lost home. 
 To this outcast pair the inundation had 
 made the shape of the earth newly problem 
 atical. Baptiste was perplexed, but his 
 master, as ever, remained cheerful and un 
 biassed. "Me, I dunno," he said "but I 
 thing it is roun , mais ad the same time flat 
 [100] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 like a plate. Because, me, if I was making 
 that worl I would try to suit every-bodie, 
 and I thing that muz be the way tis make. 
 You fine it flat; well, then, it is flat: Father 
 Pierre fine it roun ; well, then, it is roun 
 inais that Caroline! wanting to see me so 
 bad w ere she is hide?" 
 
 "Ah, I dunno; laz time she was righd 
 there. I shall knock ?" 
 
 "Knock? ad the porte-cochere of my 
 papa ? Baptiste, f you knock there I sell 
 you to-day, h-auction! Knock if you want; 
 that h-auction raise me some money for the 
 bread and coffee, else, me, I dunno ow I m 
 goin raise that." 
 
 While he spoke M. St.-Ange noted with 
 
 mingled amusement and regard, on the other 
 
 side of the way, a strikingly dressed stranger. 
 
 It was Davezac, passing again, and the two 
 
 [101] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 gave each other stare for stare. The spying 
 maidens, from Florestine s high chamber, 
 could see Diuiitry, though not Jules. 
 
 "Sacre!" murmured the lover of Abigail 
 between his perfect teeth, "any plaze but 
 there, and with her perchanze looking, I 
 would crozz all that mud and make you to 
 elucidade that stare; but I ll see you aggain." 
 
 He scanned him sidewise, carefully; so 
 much too carefully that, to Florestine s ex 
 quisite entertainment, he ran into a towering 
 backwoodsman, who affect onately apolo 
 gized, while street observers and even the 
 frightened Abigail laughed; but Jules so 
 courteously refrained that M. Davezac for 
 gave his earlier offence. 
 
 Up on the next square Dimitry looked 
 back. At the corner opposite the front of 
 the judge s house people were running to- 
 [102] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 gether from all directions. Bareheaded in 
 the midst of the press towered the back 
 woodsman, Parson Jones. Presently he 
 was talking to Jules, who had crossed to his 
 side. However, two or three onlookers from 
 upper balconies said it was all a false alarm, 
 and as they spoke Dimitry espied Caroline 
 slip from her wicket and hurry his way, 
 though with the street between them. Now 
 she sidled into an arch, openly smiled at him, 
 and slyly showed Florestine s letter. He 
 went to her swiftly enough, read and par 
 leyed; parleyed twice as long as he would 
 have done had he known that Abigail was 
 once more in the lattice. 
 
 "But, oh, Florestine," said the over 
 matched Abby for Florestine was with her 
 and had revealed her whole mad plot, pro 
 posing to make it a round conspiracy of five, 
 [103] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 including Caroline "that would be to 
 steal! to steal, Florestine! How can I can 
 I ask him to help me steal ?" 
 
 "Ste-eal! Ah, ha, ha, Abbee, you dunno 
 bittween to steal and to borrow?" 
 
 "Oh, but to strip the house like a gang of 
 thieves ah, me, me! It s tearing my poor 
 conscience in two!" 
 
 "Abbee, look!" Florestine counted off 
 on her fingers: "Firs , we take all those 
 bric-a-brac; segond, Sieur Davezac he 
 pawn them yondeh and give the money to 
 Jules; three, Jules he pay with it all his 
 debt ; four, the judge he give aggain to 
 Jules the double all he pay; five, we rid- 
 deem those bric-a-brac, and the fortune of the 
 eart is make for every-bodie. Ah, Abbee, if 
 you don t help me to make that, you tear my 
 poor conscien in fi-i-ive!" 
 [104] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Oh, sweet, I am such an awful coward!" 
 "Ah, yes, but sometime they are very 
 uzeful, those coward ." 
 
 "But you spoke of difficulties 
 "Yes, ah, yes! Firz place, I dunno can 
 we make Jules take those money, he is a so 
 proud of his honor! And, segond place, 
 ev n if he do that, I dunno if he h-use those 
 money to pay those debt ha, ha, ha ! Than 
 w at we goin do, w en Tante and the judge 
 bi^-in to mizz those candelabra, those vase , 
 
 o 
 
 those spoo-oon ?" 
 
 Abigail gasped and moaned, but Flores- 
 tine clutched her arm and they peered 
 through the lattice. Up their own sidewalk 
 came Parson Jones, and at his elbow tripped 
 Jules St.-Ange. The parson was making 
 reckless show of his bank-notes, which Jules 
 regarded with lively desire while he warned 
 [105] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 their holder of his folly. Behind the two 
 were Baptiste and Colossus, with the loaf 
 they had shared stowed safely inside them. 
 The four passed close by the lattice. Flores- 
 tine, gathering some hint of Jules s design, 
 sent him a soft call of distress, but Parson 
 Jones drowned it unaware with the re-echo 
 ing voice in which he explained that the fund 
 belonged to his church in the wilderness, 
 and invited Jules to breakfast. 
 
 "Abbee, Abbee," she gasped, "I shall 
 follow them!" 
 
 But Abby seized her as if the pair were 
 drowning together, and in panting suspense 
 Florestine lingered and gazed. The gam 
 bling-house! the gambling-house at the 
 corner! Would Jules lead the stranger into 
 it ? For there the two masters and servants 
 had halted. But the maidens took courage 
 [106] 
 
\ 
 
 Florestine . . . sent him a soft call of distress 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 when they heard the parson set forth his 
 theory of a special Providence, and Jules 
 profess a like conviction. And now grateful 
 ears sprang into Florestine s eyes as the 
 men turned away, picked their steps across 
 the mire of the Rue Royale, and disappeared 
 toward the Rue Chartres. 
 
 "Wait, darling, wait!" whispered the 
 clinging Abigail. "There s hope yet; let 
 me think a moment!" 
 
 "Ah!" cried the more daring one, "sinze 
 all night I have wait and think. Watch you 
 there; I goin fedge those bric-a-brac!" 
 She darted in. 
 
 Abigail wrung her hands. "I cannot do 
 
 o o 
 
 this!" she cried, "I cannot, I cannot!" Yet 
 where courage failed, friendship held fast, 
 and her act was stouter than her word. She 
 flinched with affright, for Caroline, who had 
 [107] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 returned unnoticed, softly called in through 
 the lattice from the angle by the porte- 
 cochere. 
 
 "I foun him, Miss Abbie, yass m. But, 
 well, eh, he say Pere Raphael ain t comin . 
 Don t give no reason, he say, cep dat 
 Miche Dabzac he stay away too much f om 
 confession." 
 
 "Wat, w at, w at?" exclaimed Florestine, 
 as she reappeared with a small heavy burden 
 wrapped in a large woollen garment. 
 
 "Oh, Lawdy, missy," said the maid, 
 " Pere Raphael refuse to come!" 
 
 Caroline!" The mistress snatched open 
 the lattice window. "Assassin, you! Sieur 
 Davezac he riffuse to come, al-soP" 
 
 "Lawd, no! He waitin dess round de 
 cawneh; but he fraid nobody gwine trus him 
 now sence Pere Raphael fuse to come." 
 [108] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Go, Caroline, slow torture, you! fly! 
 Tell him come! Tell him Pere Raphael he 
 ave change his mind!" 
 
 " Florestine ! " gasped Abigail. 
 
 "Mais certainement ! Caroline, tell him 
 Pere Raphael sen the judge word he comin 
 speak well-well for him. Allez! va!" 
 
 The maid glided away. Her mistress set 
 down her burden and, drawing the wrapper 
 from it, whispered, "Hun rade-dolla clock 
 to big-in!" 
 
 Abigail gulped. "In the judge s own 
 cloak!" she moaned. 
 
 "Ah, no," replied her smiling friend; 
 and, any ow, we don t goin to pawnbreak 
 that. But you, Abbee; you di n prayed 
 laz night for Pere Raphael to come ?" 
 
 "I had never heard of Pere Raphael!" 
 
 "Ah, yes; you never hear ; and yet ad 
 [109] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 the same time you di n billieve he s coming! 
 Ah, Abbee, I dunno ow you can be a so 
 wicked like that! Mais wait there whiles I 
 fedge some more of those thing ." 
 
 The next moment Abigail, left alone, saw 
 Dimitry reappear at the corner. Caroline 
 was with him, but they parted; she came, 
 he went in search of Jules. He turned the 
 corner St.-Ange and the parson had turned; 
 but unluckily he had not seen them enter the 
 parson s lodging-house, and thinking they 
 had passed on into and down the Rue Char- 
 tres, he hastened that way. 
 
 "Oh, yass m," said Caroline, again at the 
 lattice window, "he be right back. He on y 
 gwine tell Miche Jules fo Gawd s sake 
 don t go gitt n money in no scan lous way 
 whiles we a-raisin it faw him squah and 
 clean." 
 
 [110] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 "Abbee!" cried Florestine, returning with 
 fresh booty, " ow you are fine, to be a so 
 brave like that, an same time withoud a 
 teaspoon of courage ! " 
 
 "I think so, myself!" was the flashing 
 reply. 
 
 When the breakfast-bell tinkled and Flo 
 restine, busy as a bird with nestlings, caught 
 her breath and hearkened, fortune was kind. 
 Mrs. Merrifield, Tante, and the judge, worn 
 with the cares of a sleepless night, sent ex 
 cuses for their non-appearance. So pros 
 pered the reckless scheme, and presently, 
 while Abigail, alone, and always the better 
 nerved in Florestine s absence, watched in 
 the balcony for her lover s return, there 
 came instead, without their servants and 
 unfound by Davezac, Jules St.-Ange and 
 Parson Jones. Through what a maze the 
 
 [in] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 prodigal was leading his victim! They 
 passed again down street and out of sight. 
 
 Laden with her final spoils Florestine 
 stepped into the balcony once more and 
 Abigail told of the two men. "And there s 
 hope yet, dear," she said with spirit, "for 
 they re on their way to church ; I heard them 
 say so. At any rate we can wait and see! " 
 
 "Wait!" replied Florestine, "for Jules to 
 go to church? Ah, no!" 
 
 Caroline emerged from the porte-cochere 
 and passed up through the lattice the fam 
 ily s biggest market-basket, and while Flo 
 restine filled it Dimitry arrived. 
 
 "Now, Miss Abby," said the maid, 
 "please han me dat ah big dud fo to kyiver 
 de load. Thank you, ma am. Lead off, 
 Miche Dabzac, and de Lawd have mussy on 
 ow souls!" 
 
 [112] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 "Stop! stop!" commanded Abigail, with 
 sudden authority, "let us oh, let us oh, 
 wait, wait!" 
 
 "Mademoiselle," put in her lover he 
 tried to show the tenderest worship, but it 
 was the first word he had ever spoken to her 
 and he burst into a blaze "I break any law 
 you want! Even I keep any law you want. 
 But to wait ? My God ! Mademoiselle, sinze 
 five hun rade year di n no Davezac wait for 
 no-body! Allons, Caroline!" 
 
 By his aid the great load had risen to the 
 slave girl s head, and as they went it rested 
 there as jauntily as a flowered hat. The two 
 maidens watched them go in at the pawn 
 broker s door, and were looking for them to 
 come forth again, when all at once Flores- 
 tine dragged Abigail from the balcony, and 
 from a drawing-room window showed her 
 [113] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 Tante and Mrs. Merrifield issuing into the 
 street by the front door. "Tsh-sh! they 
 thing we are there in my room asleep to 
 gether; Caroline tole that to them w en yo 
 mama di n fine you in yo bed. Ah, yo 
 mama she ave her liT sicret, too. She 
 w?.nt to go and riturn withoud you finding 
 that out ha, ha, ha! that she have been 
 there." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Ah ! only to mass. She don t want riffuse 
 that to Tante, an same time she dunno if 
 tha z maybee a liT bit wrong, and of course, 
 you know, the only way to fine that out t is 
 to try it. Then if you fine it wrong you be 
 sorrie, and that make it right." The pan- 
 came out again into the balcony and after 
 much anxious waiting Davezac and Caroline 
 reappeared. 
 
 [114] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Wat! Caroline, you ave the sick stom 
 ach to smile like that?" 
 
 "Momselle, cept dis yeh old dud what 
 you tell me be sho to fetch back, do whole 
 kit an bilin brung dess half what we bound 
 to raise." 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu! and if Tante fine those 
 thing gone!" 
 
 "Mesdemoiselles," interposed Dimitry, 
 "look! I shall go at my room bring h all 
 my thing -raise that balanze in half an 
 hour!" 
 
 "Whiles they are at mass!" broke in the 
 delighted Florestine. "Yass! Tis the 
 h-only way, Abbee. Go, Sieur Davezac, go. 
 God will pay you for that ! Go, make quick 
 biffo Pere Raphael come fine uz all here 
 together. Go! and same time send me that 
 Jules St.-Ange, while me I make Pere Raph- 
 [115] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 ael tell the judge you makin yo possible to 
 brin^ him back his son." 
 
 O 
 
 A half -hour was all that remained of the 
 Sabbath forenoon, and Judge St.-Ange had 
 not yet left his bedchamber, when the front 
 door bell rang and Caroline went up-stairs 
 to announce Pere Raphael. 
 
 "Yass, suh, an he got" she made a dis 
 tressed effort not to smile at thought of the 
 two figures meeting "he got a green shade 
 ove his eyes biggeh n yone." 
 
 Pere Raphael paced the drawing-room 
 alone, truly "a verie small thin." The house 
 was still. Now and again as the scant form, 
 trim even in the rude draping of rope-tied 
 gown and unlifted cowl, came to the balcony 
 windows, the deeply hooded eyes looked 
 out, first down the street and then up. Thus 
 [116] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 they were presently drawn to a number of 
 unwashed little girls near the next door, a 
 door of the gambling-house. The flock were 
 listening against it, giggling, trying to peep 
 under it, starting away, wringing hands, and 
 stealing back to listen again. Pere Raphael 
 stepped out upon the open end of the balcony. 
 
 "Tis Miche Jules," said a brazen young 
 ster, her eyes on the green shade, her apron 
 in her teeth. "Yass, he pass in yondeh wid 
 a so beeg man, by front way, round cawneh, 
 and beeg man he don t want play card , and 
 he yell so loud dey scared of him." 
 
 The visitor returned to the drawing-room, 
 wearily chose a chair and knelt beside it, 
 but instantly stood upright again at sound 
 of a footfall. 
 
 Judge St.-Ange came slowly in and paused. 
 "Caroline!" he called. The maid came. 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Mademoiselle Florestine," he asked, 
 "where she is?" 
 
 "Miche, she say Miss Abby got sich a 
 pow ful migraine she feel bound to stay wid 
 her ef you kin escuse her; yass, suh." 
 
 The judge waved out the servant and 
 turned to his visitor. Pere Raphael s eyes 
 remained downcast behind their ugly screen 
 until the two were seated. 
 
 "Is that a fact, indeed," asked the judge, 
 "that we ave the one maladie ?" 
 
 "Ah," replied the little father, in a thin, 
 obstructed voice, "with me tis but a cold, 
 and in the throat like-wise, till I was nearly 
 privvent the honor to come." 
 
 "They privvent many thing , those sore 
 h-eye ," agreed the judge. 
 
 "Yes," rejoined the caller, "I cannot read 
 me those prayer , cannot wride me those 
 [118] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 sermon . Almoze they stop me playing 
 those domino those card ." 
 
 "Ha-a-ah! you are fon of those card ?" 
 
 "Yes, I am verie, verie fon to play them. 
 Mais, w en I cann play, that save me money. 
 Biccause those hoss-raze those cock-fight 
 I never bet on those. Tha z only thing 
 I ever bet, me, those card ." 
 
 And me the same," said the judge. A 
 business silence ensued. Then "Pere Raph 
 ael, that young man he is one of those 
 Davezac , I sue-pose, of the Cote d Or, eh ? 
 You can speak good word for him ?" 
 
 "Ah, that dippan . Me, I h-am a pries ; 
 you, you h-are a judge. I dunno w at goin 
 be good word to you. Sieur Davezac he got, 
 h-any ow, all the bad abit necessaire to a 
 perfec Creole gen leman." 
 
 "Aha! Well, tha z mighty good word. 
 [1191 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 For one pries tha d be verie bad; but for 
 one Creole gen Ieman, you know " 
 
 "Hmm. Mais, same time, there is one 
 diffycultie, in sieu ." 
 
 "Tha z not mannie." 
 
 "Mais, I thing that don t please you, 
 m sieu . I ave the fear that Madame Mer- 
 rifiel she ave the ope that M. Davezac he 
 ave the willingnezz to change his n Z-igion. 
 Mais, I am compel to tell you w at he tell 
 me rather than change his n7-igion he 
 sooner go to hell. Pardon, I am sorrie to 
 tell you that, mais The small speaker 
 shrugged from ears to elbows. 
 
 The host hid his admiration under a cold 
 smile. "Tha"z brave, yes, "he acknowledged. 
 
 "Brave ah, tha z another troub h-all 
 the time fightingg, fightingg, or fran of 
 somebody fightingg!" 
 
 [120] 
 
FERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Ah! but a gen leman, those time ! 
 My faith! Pere Raphael, he shall ave 
 everything w at he want. For why he did n 
 come with you?" 
 
 "M sieu , he is af-raid to be in debt to 
 you." 
 
 " Ow he s goin be in debt to me? Im- 
 possib !" 
 
 "He say if you speak well for him to 
 Madame Merrifiel he is in debt to you the 
 res of the life, and he don t want see you 
 aggain till any ow he commance to pay you, 
 and he s gone pawnbroken everything w at 
 he got " 
 
 "Ah! ah-h! ah-h-h! My fran , oh-h, 
 w at that is for?" 
 
 "M sieu , tis for pardon, to tell you that, 
 tis a diffycult; tha z a verie daily-cat." 
 
 With his eyes helplessly dropped, the 
 [121] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 host straightened severely against the high 
 back of his chair. " Tis ab-out my son? 
 Ah go h-on." 
 
 "Well, you see, Sieur Davezac he hearin 
 every-bodie talk bout that. And w en he say 
 he bet any-bodie fight any-bodie w at say 
 Judge St.-Ange he don t trit his son all right, 
 then every-bodie say, Oh, yes; the judge 
 he thing he trit his son all right, mais if the 
 judge know that ris-on his son don t pay 
 those debt " 
 
 "Ris-on he don t pay he don t want!" 
 
 "Yes; mais they thing tis bic-ause yo 
 son he s fran of so many poor man, and 
 every time one poor fran cann pay his 
 debt yo son he pay that with his h-own 
 monie." 
 
 The judge shook his drooping head 
 mournfully. "I do not bil-ieve. I never 
 [122] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 fine one sign of that. If I ave see that, my 
 son he would sleep laz night in his h-own 
 bed, and me I would sleep in mine. Mon 
 Dieu ! Pere Raphael, tha z a thing I don 
 like to talk ab-out, but w at I muz find out 
 ow that make Sieur Davezac take all his 
 thing pawnshop? * 
 
 "Ah, I tell you. He say he goin find that 
 Jules St.-Ange, goin lend him those monie, 
 goin make him pay h-all those debt . Then 
 he make him go at his papa, and say, At the 
 end I ave commance all right, I goin to 
 work. " 
 
 The judge looked up sharply, but then 
 sank his head lower than before. "I don t 
 bil-ieve th z a possib to make. Same time 
 already, me, I am in the debt to Sieur 
 Davezac so long my life; if he succeed to 
 finizh, or if he don t succeed to finizh, to me 
 [123] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 that be h-all the same; he ave commance . 
 To commance, tis enough." His grip trem 
 bled on the arms of his chair, but his head 
 came up. 
 
 "I thing tha z verie well, m sieu, " said 
 Pere Raphael, stirring as if to go. A strange 
 voice was distracting both visitor and host 
 with mad though remote and smothered 
 bellowings. The judge, in apology said that 
 they came from the next house, through 
 the walls. 
 
 "I never year it loud like that biffo . Pere 
 Raphael, I want you tell Sieur Davezac 
 and same time my son I don t want him fine 
 that out if Sieur Davezac he succeed, my 
 son he ave planty to pay him back, bic-ause 
 me I shall give my son twice w at he spend 
 to pay h-all those debt never biffo I di ii 
 year some noises come through thad wall." 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 "All right, m sieu ; I tell himif I see 
 him. Mais, there is one thing: Sieur Dave- 
 zac he say maybee those monie he raise be 
 not enough to pay h-all those debt ; well, 
 any ow, w en you see yo son commance to 
 pay, you be satis-/?/; to commance, tis 
 enough. Mais me, I 
 
 With a shrug the speaker rose, and the 
 judge stood up very straight. 
 
 "Pere Raphael, no; tha z all w at I can 
 sav no! For Sieur Davezac to commance 
 tis enough, yes; but for my son and still, 
 my God ! with my son I be glad be recon- 
 c {lo> f or him to commance, tis too late; 
 he muz finizh." The speaker s tone, 
 though grieved, was kind, and the raising of 
 his voice was solely to divert his visitor 
 from the noises that continued to search 
 through the partition wall. "Come at home 
 [125] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 here aggain this evening, will you ? If that 
 troub with my son pass, or if it be worse, 
 all the same I be wanting you bad fellow- 
 sufferer those sore h-eye to play me some 
 card ." 
 
 The visitor promised to come, and bowed 
 low for thanks, but both were giving all 
 their heed to the hot altercation that searched 
 through the solid masonry and was bringing 
 the judge undisguised distress. Pere Ra 
 phael had faced toward the front door, the 
 judge following and trying to flood the air 
 with his own speech, when there came from 
 the gambler s house a sound as of some one 
 falling, and outcries in several voices. Then 
 there was a jangle of the St.-Ange door-bell. 
 The ready Caroline flew to the door, and 
 Madame Merrifield and Tante sprang in, 
 casting wild glances behind them. 
 [126] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "There!" cried the hostess, with a sister s 
 indignation in every inch of her bonnet and 
 draperies. "Lis-ten! Look! Come there 
 and look, you! You what cannod take ad 
 vize! Oh, you what, sinze appointed jodge, 
 got no time to be a father! " 
 
 The judge caught one outside glimpse 
 and turned away with a groan. In the midst 
 of a multiplying crowd the towering form 
 of Parson Jones, between a burly red ruf 
 fian on one side and Jules St.-Ange on 
 the other, was being hurried away, sway 
 ing bloody-headed, across the Rue Royale. 
 The three men vanished into the cross 
 street. 
 
 "He fine his money gone," cried one child 
 to another. "Dey say one niggah take it; 
 dey gone hunt him up ! " 
 
 "Caroline, my at and shoe !" exclaimed 
 [127] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 the judge, and would have torn the shade 
 from his eyes, but the sister prevented him. 
 A better thought came. "Pere Raphael - 
 he tried to peer this way and that "Pere 
 Raphael, go you, tell my son ah, my God ! 
 where is that Pere Raphael ?" 
 
 "Gone already!" joyously cried Caroline. 
 "Lef at de fus beginnin !" She turned to 
 Florestine and Abigail, who stood clinging 
 to each other, Florestine as pale and grief- 
 broken as though she had been Abigail, and 
 Abigail as strangely full of a new intrepidity 
 as if she were Florestine. "You see him go, 
 bofe n you, didn you ? You didn ? He 
 go by de po te-cochere ; yass, suh; crossin 
 tow d de riveh, in Toulouse Street, like he 
 gwine head em off." 
 
 "Go you, Caroline," said the judge, and 
 Florestine spoke the same word, straighten- 
 [1281 
 
"Fine, Miche Jules! Jules!" 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 ing from Abby s clasp. "Go, make quick! 
 You shall fine him!" 
 
 But as the young mistress pushed her maid 
 from the room, she added privately: "Fine 
 Miche Jules! Jules! Jules! Fine Miche 
 Jules!" 
 
 The judge turned to Madame Merrifield. 
 "Yo* pardon! Twas not to give you that 
 troub that those heaven make you our pris 
 oner; for you I ave a different news." Abby 
 moved away, and he spoke on in a murmur. 
 
 "Pere Raphael, as you ave seen 
 
 The lady received the information with 
 due dignity and thanks, and presently turned 
 to her daughter. "Come, my dear, the over 
 flow has passed off. Put on your things and 
 
 let us " 
 
 Abigail was beseeching Tante to allow 
 Florestine to go home with her, and when 
 [129] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 Madame Merrifield urged it the petition 
 was granted. 
 
 "Here tha z no place for her ad the 
 presend," said the sister aside to her brother, 
 with tremulous energy. 
 
 "Ah, verie good!" was his reply. "For 
 me, I goin make my son fine out I am a 
 judge!" And the moment he was alone he 
 rang for a man-servant and sent him on an 
 errand that filled the slave s face with con 
 sternation. 
 
 Madame Merrifield s tall house, in which, 
 this afternoon, she was taking some of the 
 sleep owing to her from the night, stood 
 flush with the sidewalk, with its garden 
 on one side, at the corner of two streets. 
 Through its oleanders and myrtles and its 
 high wooden fence of graceful openwork 
 [130] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 one got a broken view of the rude Place Con 
 go, in a part of which a great multitude were 
 gathered on the board seats of Cay etano s am 
 phitheatre to see his buffalo-and-tiger fight. 
 Abigail and Florestine were in the garden. 
 The sounds and glimpses they caught in 
 their embowered hiding would have yielded 
 few clear meanings, but Caroline, outside 
 the double gate, went and came, describing 
 and explaining. That? That was the up- 
 river men jeering at the Latins. And that? 
 That was the Latins snarling back at the 
 Americains. Oh, there would be bloody 
 trouble if the show did not come off soon! 
 That? That was the Americains singing. 
 Yes, the tune was a hymn, the maid admitted 
 to Abigail, "But you can dess thaynk Gawd 
 you cayn t make out de words." 
 
 Once she came excitedly saying she had 
 [131] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 seen, seated in the throng, at inaccessible 
 distances and apart, Colossus and Baptiste. 
 She hurried back in hope to discover Jules, 
 the parson, or Dimitry; but as she vanished 
 Dimitry came along, scanning every window 
 of the house, and quite overlooking the gar 
 den until Florestine stepped from cover to the 
 half-open gate. He strode in a step or two, 
 lifted his hat, and with the glow of an aide- 
 de-camp used it to poinUo the Place Congo. 
 "Mademoiselle, I cannot stop. I am 
 cloze be ind the track of Sieur St.-Ange. 
 Some-bodie pig the pocket of that Posson 
 Jone , and Posson Jone and Sieur St.- 
 Ange they are pazz at that bull-fight to fine 
 if tis his niggah." 
 
 "Butt had pawn-stop / Sieur Davezac, 
 w at you ave make ad that pawn-stop?" 
 The young man straightened with joy. 
 
But Caroline, outside the double gate, went and came, 
 describing and explaining 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "By those prayer of my saint, thad monie is 
 raise ! Tis now only to fine Sieur St.-Ange 
 and give it him. You ave the one moiety 
 me I ave the other." He backed off. 
 
 "Wait, Sieur Davezac, wait! My faith! 
 if Posson Jone don t fine his monie, Jules 
 sure to give those monie to Posson Jone !" 
 
 Dimitry paused agape while he took in the 
 probability. "Mademoiselle, verie well. 
 I give him that moiety only w en I see you 
 give him the other." 
 
 "But, Sieur Davezac, another thing! 
 Pere Raphael, he s come yonder and the 
 judge say h-all right. 
 
 The suitor flamed with wonder and grati 
 tude. "Hah! now to fedge that Jules St.- 
 Ange ! " He sped away. 
 
 The longest day in the life of Judge St.- 
 [133] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 Arige drew to its end. Again the lamplighter 
 passed. His yellow lights twinkled after 
 him from corner to corner. Over the dark 
 ened shops, and here and there between 
 them, the balconied windows of one parlor 
 after another grew luminous inside their 
 curtains. Only those of the St.-Ange house 
 remained dark. Tinkling into their melan 
 choly dusk with lighted lamps, two servants 
 in turn had been sent tinkling out of it 
 again by the solitary judge. "Thad dark- 
 nezz," he kindly told the second one, "as 
 suage* those sore h-eye ." 
 
 But now came Caroline. Behind her fol 
 lowed the earlier two; each of the three 
 bore tall, globed lamps, and at their side 
 walked his sister. 
 
 "My brother," she said, "it is the Sab 
 bath." And as the servants left the lamps 
 [1341 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 and retired, she added, "Ah, have we not 
 darkness enough, with all those lamp we 
 can light?" 
 
 His inquiry admitted the fact. "Flores- 
 tine she is rit-urn ? " 
 
 "Florestine she is rit-urn , yes; but better 
 you leave her there w ere she wild to be 
 al-lone in her room. St.-Ange, thad Flor 
 estine her soul like mine is in torment for 
 thad boy, yo son, my de brother, oud there 
 in the street." 
 
 "He is not in the street, my sister." 
 
 The sister clutched her brother s arm in 
 tragic affright, and all at once he lost his 
 self-command, and exclaimed, "My son! 
 my span threef! vagabond! robber of 
 strenger ! " 
 
 "W ere he is, St.-Ange? Ah, my God! 
 
 w at you ave done ? " 
 
 [135] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 "If that pol-ice ave done w at I sen 
 them to do, he is in the calaboose." 
 
 With a moan as if she were stabbed, the 
 sister sank into a chair and hid her face. 
 The judge rose and pulled a bell-cord, and 
 she hurried out. Before he could speak to 
 the servant who responded, the door-bell 
 rang imperiously. 
 
 "Go, you; that ave the soun of M. 
 Davezac. If yes or if Pere Raphael tell 
 him come in. Anybody bis-ide, I cann 
 see them to-night bic-ause those sore 
 h-eye . Ah, my God!" he added to himself, 
 "I wizh I ave not promize to play those 
 card !" 
 
 M. Davezac entered with a head as high 
 as if he came with a demand for surren 
 der. What could it mean ? At an austere 
 distance he bowed low. Yet the judge 
 [136] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 made himself almost jovial. "Aha! ad 
 the end you are there for that rip-lye, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Rip-lye, m sieu ?" 
 
 "Ah, thad news you wizh me to inform 
 you from Madame Merrifiel . Sinze several 
 hour tis waiting, thad news. But I like 
 that, your dillybration; you will perchanze 
 have the patienze if first I h-ask you some 
 news of my son." 
 
 "M sieu , tis for that I am biftV you. 
 I h-owe you one debt " 
 
 " Sieur Davezac, no. My God! if my 
 son was a liT mo like you " 
 
 "If he was a liT mo like me, m sieu , he 
 would be sleeping to-night in the calaboose, 
 yes." 
 
 "My God! young man, you ave save 
 my son from the calaboose ?" 
 [137] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "I ave save who I can, but yo good 
 neighbo of the negs door : 
 
 "Miguel and Joe?" 
 
 "They are in the calaboose." 
 
 "And Baptiste?" 
 
 "In the calaboose." 
 
 "And Posson Jone ?" 
 
 "In the calaboose." 
 
 "And that Collosse of Rhode ?" 
 
 "The devil only know !" 
 
 "And Jules?" 
 
 "M sieu , yo son is ad yo door." 
 
 The father half left his chair, but a pain 
 ful thought forced him back again. "Young 
 man, young man, you ave lent monie to my 
 son to ruin him worze than biffo ?" 
 
 "Lend monie my faith! I beg him till 
 I sweat! I beg him till I swear! I beg 
 him till I cry ! no use ! I canned make him 
 [138] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 to borrow me. All he say, My conscien ! 
 my honor! Pay my debt with yo monie? 
 Ampossib !" 
 
 Again the judge half left his chair, but 
 again he restrained himself. "And my son 
 he is yond at my door to talk to me ab-out 
 paying those " 
 
 "No, m sieu ; he s there to ged that Pos- 
 son Jone let out from calaboose." 
 
 "Hah!" The judge was disappointed. 
 "But any ow, tha J z well; I never intan 
 Posson Jone to be put in calaboose. Only 
 Jules he ought come mo sooner!" 
 
 "No, m sieu , no uze to come mo sooner, 
 till Posson Jone he ave time to sleep off 
 thad lemonade. And w iles he s doing that 
 we try to fine his ole niggah my soul! we 
 are nearly parizh with hunting thad black 
 imbecile." 
 
 [139] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 The judge, his ear quickened by his yearn 
 ing, suddenly started for the door and as he 
 went its bell softly jingled. But when he 
 opened it, there stood, not his son, but Pere 
 Raphael. If M. Davezac had believed him 
 self caught in a trap set for him he could 
 not have stared with more disconcertion. 
 Suddenly, with scarcely a decent salutation 
 to the newcomer, he said to the judge, "I ll 
 go and fedge yo son." 
 
 But with a kind gesture Pere Raphael de 
 tained him, while addressing the judge. 
 "Yo son? He s not there. But yet he s 
 coming. Only, he rim-ember one other 
 plaze to look for that domestique he s hunt 
 ing, and he say tell M. Davezac wait till he 
 come." 
 
 "Good!" cried the judge, in pure glad 
 ness. "And to pazz the time whiles waiting 
 [140] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 card ! Card , Pere Raphael! like this 
 morning arrange . And the game a three- 
 cornered till Jules come and make it a four!" 
 Pere Raphael hesitated. "If monsieur," 
 he said, "will pardon me not uncovering the 
 head ? biccause I" his throat seemed still 
 to be ailing "I ave leave be ind me that 
 shed for those sore h-eye." 
 
 "Ah, you shall take mine!" cried the host. 
 But that kind of loan was not one for a lender 
 to insist upon, and they sat down to the game 
 as they were. While they were in it to the 
 elbows the door-bell sounded again and Jules 
 St.-Ange presently stood before them. Father 
 and son said a cautiously kind good-evening. 
 The others bowed. 
 
 " Continue, messieurs," begged the young 
 man, "ah, con-tinue the game. I am come 
 
 only " 
 
 [141] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Ah, we know," said the judge; "but 
 tha z not a necessaire presently. Come, 
 you shall play, my boy. There is yo chair, 
 there are yo counter , waiting sinze the big- 
 gening. Come!" 
 
 "Ah, no, papa. I like to play you thad 
 game, messieurs, yes; and, beside , I like to 
 win me some monie. To-night tha z the 
 firs time I ever got use for monie; mais, ow 
 I m goin to win me anything if all that time 
 I dunno if I m goin ged that paper for 
 Posson Jone 5 to pazz out ? Ah, no ! " 
 
 "For w at thad Posson Jone is in cala 
 boose, my son ? " 
 
 "Papa, he is there for a verie strange; he 
 is lock for his ril-igion." 
 
 "My son ! for his ril-igion ? " 
 
 "Tis for preaching the specious provi 
 dence! I know, Pere Raphael, for you that 
 [142] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 would be a sin, to preach that in the church; 
 but Posson Jone he di n preach that in the 
 church; he preach it ad thad bull-ring. He 
 thing it is right ad that bull-ring; well, then, 
 ad that bull-ring it is right. Ah, if he ave 
 the abit to thing that is right, well, he cann 
 he p that; tis his abit." 
 
 "Assuredlee," murmured Pere Raphael. 
 
 "Me, I don t care about those abit ," 
 cried the prodigal, with sudden warmth, 
 "if a man stick to his ril-igion and pay his 
 debt !" 
 
 "Ah!" cried the judge, in a glow. 
 
 "An if he can fight like he preach !" 
 exclaimed M. Davezac. 
 
 "Ah, bah!" laughed the judge. "Posson 
 Jone he fight w en they try to stop him 
 pritching?" 
 
 "Mais certainement," said Jules, "in that 
 [143] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 whole city there is not a priest to fight like 
 that Posson Jonc exceb " he saluted 
 deferentially "that be Pere Raphael. Bic- 
 ause, my faith! I bil-ieve he fight juz as 
 good if he ave been sober. And same time 
 crying to pay his debt !" 
 
 "Jules, my boy," the judge pointed to 
 an escritoire "write me there for Posson 
 Jone to pazz from that calaboose so soon 
 he want ." 
 
 "Also Baptiste, papa?" asked Jules, as 
 he labored with the pen. 
 
 "Yes, likewise pud that also the mu 
 latto boy Baptiste. Give it me and the 
 pen." 
 
 Presently the pass was in the son s breast 
 pocket, and the four took up the cards. 
 From the first Pere Raphael had played with 
 a nerve that challenged the judge s admira- 
 M441 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 tion, and now at once began to lead the bet 
 ting with a gentle and taciturn intrepidity. 
 Dimitry followed with equal daring, the 
 judge and his son laughed and kept their 
 caution, and Jules dragged in the constant 
 and startling losses of the reckless pair. It 
 seemed but a hop, skip, and jump from the 
 time they began until these two rose with an 
 air of resignation. 
 
 "Ah!" cried the host, "finish-ingr? Me, 
 I am loser al-so, but that luck boun* to turn. 
 We are juz commance ." 
 
 M. Davezac shrugged amusedly and 
 spread his hands downward. "To com 
 mance tis enough; I ave precisely los all 
 I ve got there with me" 
 
 "Me the same," coughed Pere Raphael. 
 
 First one and then the other drew forth a 
 wallet and laid its paper contents uncounted 
 [1451 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 before Jules. The prodigal rose, made them 
 into one wad, and with a gracious bow thrust 
 them into the same pocket that held the par 
 son s release. The father rose last, and 
 stood in unconfessed but passionate sus 
 pense. 
 
 "Well, messieurs," said Jules, saluting as 
 he backed away, "you will egscuse that 
 hurry, with my fran in that calaboose, 
 and " 
 
 "Jules," responded the judge, following 
 toward the drawing-room door, while Pere 
 Raphael and Davezac drew away in opposite 
 directions, "you don t need to go if you " 
 He felt a touch on his arm; his sister stood 
 beside him. 
 
 "Jules," she interposed, "if you ave there 
 already not quite enough to pud you out of 
 
 debt " 
 
 [146] 
 
P E R E R A P II A E L 
 
 "Tante, papa," the son drew forth his 
 g a j ns "I w in that in yo ouse, and from 
 fran . You thing that bo honorab to pay 
 that to shopkippcr? My faith, that is a 
 secred!" He looked round to appeal the 
 point to Pere Raphael, but the hooded 
 figure had vanished, and Davezac stood 
 between him and his kindred, heaving 
 with indignation. "M sieu St.-Ange!" said 
 Dimitry. 
 
 Jules smiled fondly. " M sieu Davezac ? " 
 
 "You know w at I would say, me, if that 
 was not yo ouse here ?" 
 
 "Tis not my ouse. W at that is you 
 would say?" 
 
 "I would say, take that monie and pay 
 those debt , or fight me under those live- 
 oak , Bayou St. Jean, to-morrow sun-rise!" 
 
 The prodigal smiled on. "I meet you 
 [147] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 there. My faith! tha z the first time I ever 
 got use for monie, and then you thing I m 
 goin teck it and pay my debt 9 ? Ah, m sieu , 
 I be sorry to fighd you for that, but tis a 
 matt of conscien ! " 
 
 The speaker s last glimpse of the company 
 as he left them showed the judge turning 
 fiercely upon Davezac, and his aunt heatedly 
 arraigning her brother. Surely he would not 
 have shut himself out had he seen his father, 
 at the instant of the door s closing, saved 
 from a fall only by the arms of Tante and 
 Florestine as the latter darted into the room, 
 or had he heard himself imperatively called 
 by the weeping girl. 
 
 The judge recovered himself, lifted the 
 shade from his eyes, painfully blinked around 
 the room, and spoke with dignity. " M sieu 
 
 Davezac Pere Raphael " 
 
 [148] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 But not even Tante or Florestine remained 
 to reply. Only Caroline responded : "Miche 
 Dabzac an Pere Raphael done gone, miche. 
 Yass, suh, by de po te-cochere." A state 
 ment, like history, only partly true. 
 
 Once more the market-houses sparkled 
 with candles, resounded with cheerful dis 
 cords. Out on Bayou Road, in the sky 
 that overarched suburb St. Jean, the Sab 
 bath night faded into day. Under one of 
 the bayou s vast oaks stood Caroline, casting 
 frightened eyes everywhere and speaking 
 warily to some one out of sight. " Dis bound 
 to be de place," she said; "yondeh de 
 schooneh; but no pahson, an no Miche 
 Jules. Lawd, sen em quick! Look to me 
 like ow dough done cook when I see de 
 jedge an po ole momselle leave de house 
 [149] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 afo day, but when dey tu n off to look up 
 Father Pierre I praise G Good Lawd, 
 yondeh come Miche Dabzac!" 
 
 "Hi-ide!" stealthily called her hidden con 
 federate, but Dimitry had seen her. 
 
 "Mawnin , Miche Dabzac," the maid 
 pertly saluted, "mawnin , suh." 
 
 With a stately frown he signed to her to 
 speak more quietly, and she obeyed, though 
 with a show of amusement. 
 
 "D ain t nobody here cep you an me, 
 an* us all done ruin now, anyhow, less n 
 I can waylay Pahson Jone an suade 
 him fo to not let Miche Jules give him 
 dat ah monie. Dass all Miss Flo stine 
 ould eveh sen me out here faw at dis 
 scan lous hour." 
 
 "Then go you back. Tell her he shall not 
 give it, I shall privvent him!" 
 [150] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 "Lawd, miche, but s posin he done gi n 
 it to him already." 
 
 "He shall give it him back. Go you at 
 home; tha z nod the place for you here. My 
 faith! militraise, I bil-ieve you are there 
 only to fine that vilain Baptiste." 
 
 "I swear I ain t! I ain t see dat fool 
 sence de middle o de night, when he set 
 off ag in to try to scare up Pahson Jone 
 ole niggeh." 
 
 "Go you at home, Caroline." 
 
 "Miche Dabzac, I see Miss Abby sence 
 I see you las ." 
 
 The maid backed enticingly toward the 
 trunk of the oak; the young man followed. 
 
 " Yass, suh; las evenin , when y all gone, 
 
 Pere Raphael an all, Miss Flo stine writ me 
 
 a pass an slipp me out fo to run tell Miss 
 
 Abby an her ma how Miche Jules fuse to 
 
 [151] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 pay his debt , an w at pass mo oveh twix 
 him an you 
 
 "Ah, ah! she ave no ri-ight ! " 
 
 "Hoi on! hoi on! De Lawd move her 
 to do it. I fine em confessin dey conscience 
 to one notheh, Madame Mayfiel a-sobbin 
 caze she been to Catholic church, and Miss 
 Abby caze o de way we raise dat ah monie; 
 an when I tell em o dis yeh las pickle you 
 done got us in 
 
 "Me? me? me?" 
 
 "Oh, yass, suh; yass, suh; yass, suh! 
 When you tell Miche Jules he got to pay or 
 fight, ain t he dess djuty-bound to fight and 
 to not pay, fo to p otec his honoh ? You 
 dess ax Miss Flo stine!" 
 
 "Ah, bah! He can pay firz and fight 
 after." 
 
 The maid started with surprise, but then 
 [152] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 laughed. "My sakes! miche, he wouldn 
 think o dat in fi-ive years. And when I told 
 dem po ladies what you done, dey dess drap 
 pon one notheh an cry like dey heart 
 Lawd! yondeh Madame MayfieP now!" 
 
 "Diable! go you at home !" 
 
 "Too late; she done spied me. Oh, now 
 we is gone done it to de las lick! Here she 
 come to stop de djuel, an fine nobody cep 
 we two togetheh! Fo Gawd s sake! ef you 
 got yo djuelin -tools hid away anywhuz 
 round here, run fetch em out an parade 
 em all you kin! 
 
 "Mawnin , Madame Mayfiel . Lawd! 
 you out here alone ? " 
 
 "Oh, Caroline, where is my daughter? 
 Where is Abigail? And why does Mr. 
 Davezac avoid me ? " 
 
 "Lawd! Madame Mayfiel , he think tis 
 [153] 
 
P E R E RAPHAEL 
 
 Miche Jules comin , an he dess gone git 
 his djuelin -tools." 
 
 The young man reappeared. He bowed 
 superbly to Mrs. Merrifield, but glared on 
 Caroline. "Miserable! Who has stole me 
 those sword from the hole of thad tree?" 
 
 "Swords!" gasped the frightened lady, 
 at which the youth bowed again and then 
 stiffened high. 
 
 "Madame, if that is by yo command 
 
 Her brows lifted with distress. "No, sir, 
 no, no! I ve overstepped, but I haven t 
 stolen oh, who can tell me where is my 
 daughter?" 
 
 "Lawd A mighty!" cried Caroline, "ain t 
 she home in bed ?" 
 
 "Bed ? We ve neither of us touched one! 
 At daylight I left her and went to mar 
 ket " 
 
 [154] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 The alarmed Davezac pressed close. 
 "You leff her?" 
 
 "She begged me to go! It was to find 
 you! Oh, sir, I ll buy off the pawnbroker if 
 only you ll not fight until we ve got every 
 thing back into the judge s house!" 
 
 "But yo daughteh! yo daughteh! when 
 you have ritturn ?" 
 
 "I found her note. She d seen Father 
 Pierre passing, called him in and told him 
 all! And she s gone with him, writing me 
 that I d understand! But I don t, and I 
 can t, and I m afraid something dreadful 
 has- 
 
 "Ah, madame, with Father Pierre, no! 
 They ave gone perchanze ad the judge. 
 I ll go there and 
 
 He sprang to go, but at the second stride 
 halted squarely before the small, cowled 
 [155] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 figure of Pere Raphael, who had issued from 
 a clump of bushes holding out to him the 
 missing swords. "You are forgettingg ? " 
 Yes ! I was forgettingg ! 
 
 "Or maybee you don t want to fighd 
 some mo , and finding egscuze to leave?" 
 
 The young man snatched the swords and 
 swelled for a fitting retort from a Creole gen 
 tleman to a priest of his faith; but before he 
 could find it Mrs. Merrifield and Caroline 
 rushed in between them, panting in fright and 
 shame, "The judge ! the judge and his sister ! " 
 
 The judge and his sister arrived at high 
 speed, she with her hair in her eyes, he with 
 his green shade on one ear. " Florestine ! " 
 they called. "Florestine, she s not here? 
 Where is Florestine? Ah, Madame Merri- 
 fiel , Florestine is gone with Jules ! Jules have 
 rob the ouse and gone with Florestine!" 
 [156] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 But the distracted mother scarcely heard 
 them, for yet another pair came after them 
 in close pursuit, and with a moan of joy she 
 sprang from the group into the arms of 
 Abigail beside Father Pierre, while Caroline 
 tearfully cried to the judge and his sister, 
 "Momselle Flo stine all right, mawsteh! 
 She safe, mist ess ! She all right I I swah to 
 Gawd she all right! You kin ax Pere 
 Rapha o-o-oh, Lawd, but dis is de Lawd s 
 own doin s! Yondeh Miche Jules and de 
 piney-wood pahson!" 
 
 Amid these preoccupations Father Pierre, 
 hurriedly drawn aside by Pere Raphael, 
 received from that small informant swift as 
 sertions that visibly amazed him, and prop 
 ositions to which he nevertheless eagerly 
 consented. As Jules, the parson, and Bap- 
 tiste came into view engrossed in the wel- 
 [157] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 come sight of the Isabella schooner, Father 
 Pierre waved back the couples about him. 
 "We are too mannie, ladies and gen le- 
 men. Back, iv you please and even you, 
 judge. Pere Raphael and me we are sue- 
 ficient." 
 
 Pere Raphael was already moving toward 
 Jules and the parson, and Father Pierre fol 
 lowed. At the vessel s side Parson Jones 
 paused to pledge Jules a lifelong affection. 
 Grouped with the ladies and Davezac the 
 judge was holding himself well in hand ; but 
 when he witnessed the love and admiration 
 his boy had won from a stranger and the 
 remotest of aliens, his sine qua non crumbled 
 at last, and to the bounding joy of all behind 
 him, "Father Pierre!" he warily called, "a 
 word, a word, not more! Say to Pere Raph 
 ael he can tell my son if he say he goin* 
 [158] 
 
FERE RAPHAEL 
 
 pay those debt with those monie everything 
 be all right. To commance, tis enough!" 
 
 With a gay nod Father Pierre motioned 
 him off and pressed nearer Pere Raphael. 
 Before they could come close, Jules, follow 
 ing the schooner as with limp sails she moved 
 along the shore to the poling of her crew 
 but all that is of earlier record: how his 
 card-table winnings were offered the parson 
 and declined ; how Colossus reappeared and 
 what he did; how Jules swore, laughed, 
 and wept, and how, as the schooner finally 
 bore away his God-sent friend, he stood and 
 gazed after its fading topmasts. 
 
 While he so stood, his father, oblivious of 
 all bystanders, the green shade lost and 
 "those sore h-eye " forgotten, stood and 
 gazed on him with a sympathy as keen and 
 evident as his yearning suspense; and if the 
 [159] 
 
P E R E R A P H A E L 
 
 observance of these emotions intensified the 
 sympathy and suspense of every one, what 
 words shall tell their raptures when they saw 
 Jules at length turn and say, "Baptiste, 
 you know what I goin do wid dis monie ?" 
 
 "Non, miche." 
 
 "Well, you can strike me dead if I don t 
 goin to pay all my debts." 
 
 He began a little song, if you remember; 
 but while its opening measure was still on 
 his tongue, at the first townward bend of the 
 path, the whole glad flock of his seekers, 
 with the judge at their front, stopped his 
 way. 
 
 "Papa!" exclaimed the joyous prodigal. 
 
 "My son!" cried the father. "An egs- 
 change! a fair egschange! Yo absolution 
 for mine!" 
 
 So they came into each other s arms. Yet 
 [160] 
 
PERE RAPHAEL 
 
 in the next breath they were half apart again. 
 "But Florestine?" they cried in one breath, 
 "ah, where Both voices were silenced 
 by Jules s amazement at something hap 
 pening behind his father, and the judge, turn 
 ing, stared, with his son, upon Pere Raphael 
 frantically clasping and kissing kissing, do 
 you realize it? kissing and embracing 
 Tante, Abigail, Mrs. Merrifield and even 
 Caroline. But cowl and eye-shade had been 
 crowded off the face and head, and these 
 were the face and head of Florestine. 
 
 "Forgive you, my child?" the aunt was 
 exclaiming. "Ah, betteh you h-ask some 
 body betteh than me; for, me, I only fine 
 that out, that robb rie, when, too late, I 
 commance to make the same thing myseff." 
 
 "To commance," sighed the happy girl to 
 Father Pierre as they all turned homeward 
 [161] 
 
P E R E RAP II A E L 
 
 together, " tis enough. Me, the same like 
 Jules, I am discourage to be wicked any 
 mo , those Providence get al-ong so well 
 without." 
 
 [162 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 
 4 191 
 
 MAY 8 191 
 
 . 19 
 
 MAR Q 6 
 RECEIV 
 
 JAN 221996 
 
 CIRCULATION L/EP" 
 
 : * 
 
 WON 
 
 SEP 2 7 
 
 1954 
 
 SEP 2 7 1954 Lt 
 
 30m-l, 15 
 
7 D / - ! 
 
 U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
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