The Crossing [184]
proudly. ``If my brother had asked it, I might have given it to him, though I treasured it. But Auguste is so-- impulsive. My uncle told my father, who is very angry. He will punish Auguste severely, and--I do not like to have him punished. Oh, I wish I had the miniature.''
``Your wish is granted, Mademoiselle,'' I answered, drawing the case from my pocket and handing it to her.
She took it, staring at me with eyes wide with wonder, and then she opened it mechanically.
``Monsieur,'' she said with great dignity, ``do you mind telling me where you obtained this?''
``I found it, Mademoiselle,'' I answered; and as I spoke I felt Nick's fingers on my arm.
``You found it? Where? How, Monsieur?''
``At Madame Bouvet's, the house where we stayed.''
``Oh,'' she said with a sigh of relief, ``he must have dropped it. It is there where he meets his associates, where they talk of the French Louisiane.''
Again I felt Nick pinching me, and I gave a sigh of relief. Mademoiselle was about to continue, but I interrupted her.
``How long will your father be in New Orleans, Mademoiselle?'' I asked.
``Until he finds Auguste,'' she answered. ``It may be days, but he will stay, for he is very angry. But will you not come into the house, Messieurs, and be presented to my mother?'' she asked. ``I have been very-- inhospitable,'' she added with a glance at Nick.
We followed her through winding paths bordered by shrubs and flowers, and presently came to a low house surrounded by a wide, cool gallery, and shaded by spreading trees. Behind it were clustered the kitchens and quarters of the house servants. Mademoiselle, picking up her dress, ran up the steps ahead of us and turned to the left in the hall into a darkened parlor. The floor was bare, save for a few mats, and in the corner was a massive escritoire of mahogany with carved feet, and there were tables and chairs of a like pattern. It was a room of more distinction than I had seen since I had been in Charlestown, and reflected the solidity of its owners.
``If you will be so kind as to wait here, Messieurs,'' said Mademoiselle, ``I will call my mother.''
And she left us.
I sat down, rather uncomfortably, but Nick took a stand and stood staring down at me with folded arms.
``How I have undervalued you, Davy,'' he said.
``I am not proud of it,'' I answered shortly.
``What the deuce is to do now!'' he asked.
``I cannot linger here,'' I answered; ``I have business with Monsieur de Saint-Gre, and I must go back to New Orleans at once.''
``Then I will wait for you,'' said Nick. ``Davy, I have met my fate.''
I laughed in spite of myself.
``It seems to me that I have heard that remark before,'' I answered.
He had not time to protest, for we heard footsteps in the hall, and Mademoiselle entered, leading an older lady by the hand. In the light of the doorway I saw that she was thin and small and yellow, but her features had a regularity and her mien a dignity which made her impressing, which would have convinced a stranger that she was a person of birth and breeding. Her hair, tinged with gray, was crowned by a lace cap.
``Madame,'' I said, bowing and coming forward, ``I am David Ritchie, from Kentucky, and this is my cousin, Mr. Temple, of Charlestown. Monsieur Gratiot and Colonel Chouteau, of St. Louis, have been kind enough to give us letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre.'' And I handed her one of the letters which I had ready.
``You are very welcome, Messieurs,'' she answered, with the same delightful accent which her daughter had used, ``and you are especially welcome from such a source. The friends of Colonel Chouteau and of Monsieur Gratiot are our friends. You will remain with us, I hope, Messieurs,'' she continued. ``Monsieur de Saint-Gre will return in a few days at best.''
``By your leave, Madame, I will go to New Orleans at once and try to find Monsieur,'' I said, ``for I have business with him.''
``You will return with him, I hope,'' said Madame.
I bowed.
``And Mr. Temple will remain?''
``Your wish is granted, Mademoiselle,'' I answered, drawing the case from my pocket and handing it to her.
She took it, staring at me with eyes wide with wonder, and then she opened it mechanically.
``Monsieur,'' she said with great dignity, ``do you mind telling me where you obtained this?''
``I found it, Mademoiselle,'' I answered; and as I spoke I felt Nick's fingers on my arm.
``You found it? Where? How, Monsieur?''
``At Madame Bouvet's, the house where we stayed.''
``Oh,'' she said with a sigh of relief, ``he must have dropped it. It is there where he meets his associates, where they talk of the French Louisiane.''
Again I felt Nick pinching me, and I gave a sigh of relief. Mademoiselle was about to continue, but I interrupted her.
``How long will your father be in New Orleans, Mademoiselle?'' I asked.
``Until he finds Auguste,'' she answered. ``It may be days, but he will stay, for he is very angry. But will you not come into the house, Messieurs, and be presented to my mother?'' she asked. ``I have been very-- inhospitable,'' she added with a glance at Nick.
We followed her through winding paths bordered by shrubs and flowers, and presently came to a low house surrounded by a wide, cool gallery, and shaded by spreading trees. Behind it were clustered the kitchens and quarters of the house servants. Mademoiselle, picking up her dress, ran up the steps ahead of us and turned to the left in the hall into a darkened parlor. The floor was bare, save for a few mats, and in the corner was a massive escritoire of mahogany with carved feet, and there were tables and chairs of a like pattern. It was a room of more distinction than I had seen since I had been in Charlestown, and reflected the solidity of its owners.
``If you will be so kind as to wait here, Messieurs,'' said Mademoiselle, ``I will call my mother.''
And she left us.
I sat down, rather uncomfortably, but Nick took a stand and stood staring down at me with folded arms.
``How I have undervalued you, Davy,'' he said.
``I am not proud of it,'' I answered shortly.
``What the deuce is to do now!'' he asked.
``I cannot linger here,'' I answered; ``I have business with Monsieur de Saint-Gre, and I must go back to New Orleans at once.''
``Then I will wait for you,'' said Nick. ``Davy, I have met my fate.''
I laughed in spite of myself.
``It seems to me that I have heard that remark before,'' I answered.
He had not time to protest, for we heard footsteps in the hall, and Mademoiselle entered, leading an older lady by the hand. In the light of the doorway I saw that she was thin and small and yellow, but her features had a regularity and her mien a dignity which made her impressing, which would have convinced a stranger that she was a person of birth and breeding. Her hair, tinged with gray, was crowned by a lace cap.
``Madame,'' I said, bowing and coming forward, ``I am David Ritchie, from Kentucky, and this is my cousin, Mr. Temple, of Charlestown. Monsieur Gratiot and Colonel Chouteau, of St. Louis, have been kind enough to give us letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre.'' And I handed her one of the letters which I had ready.
``You are very welcome, Messieurs,'' she answered, with the same delightful accent which her daughter had used, ``and you are especially welcome from such a source. The friends of Colonel Chouteau and of Monsieur Gratiot are our friends. You will remain with us, I hope, Messieurs,'' she continued. ``Monsieur de Saint-Gre will return in a few days at best.''
``By your leave, Madame, I will go to New Orleans at once and try to find Monsieur,'' I said, ``for I have business with him.''
``You will return with him, I hope,'' said Madame.
I bowed.
``And Mr. Temple will remain?''