The Crossing [232]
She led me toward the end of the gallery, where a bright screen of morning-glories shaded us from the sun. But we had scarce reached the place ere the sound of steps made us turn, and there was Mademoiselle Antoinette herself facing us. I went forward a few steps, hesitated, and bowed. She courtesied, my name faltering on her lips. Yes, it was Antoinette, not the light-hearted girl whom we had heard singing ``Ma luron'' in the garden, but a woman now with a strange beauty that astonished me. Hers was the dignity that comes from unselfish service, the calm that is far from resignation, though the black veil caught up on her chapeau de paille gave her the air of a Sister of Mercy. Antoinette had inherited the energies as well as the features of the St. Gre's, yet there was a painful moment as she stood there, striving to put down the agitation the sight of me gave her. As for me, I was bereft of speech, not knowing what to say or how far to go. My last thought was of the remarkable quality in this woman before me which had held her true to Mrs. Temple, and which sent her so courageously to her duty now.
Madame la Vicomtesse, as I had hoped, relieved the situation. She knew how to broach a dreaded subject.
``Mr. Ritchie is going with us, Antoinette,'' she said.
``It is perhaps best to explain everything to him before we start. I was about to tell you, Mr. Ritchie,'' she continued, turning to me, ``that Auguste has given no hint in his note of Mr. Temple's presence in Louisiana. And yet you told me that they were to have come here together.''
``Yes,'' I answered, ``and I have no reason to think they have separated.''
``I was merely going to suggest,'' said the Vicomtesse, firmly, ``I was merely going to suggest the possibility of our meeting Mr. Temple with Auguste.''
It was Antoinette who answered, with a force that revealed a new side of her character.
``Mr. Temple will not be there,'' she said, flashing a glance upon us. ``Do you think he would come to me--?''
Helene laid her hand upon the girl's arm.
``My dear, I think nothing,'' she said quietly; ``but it is best for us to be prepared against any surprise. Remember that I do not know Mr. Temple, and that you have not seen him for five years.''
``It is not like him, you know it is not like him,'' exclaimed Antoinette, looking at me.
``I know it is not like him, Mademoiselle,'' I replied.
Madame la Vicomtesse, from behind the girl, gave me a significant look.
``This occurred to me,'' she went on in an undisturbed tone, ``that Mr. Temple might come with Auguste to protest against the proceeding,--or even to defend himself against the imputation that he was to make use of this money in any way. I wish you to realize, Antoinette, before you decide to go, that you may meet Mr. Temple. Would it not be better to let Mr. Ritchie go alone? I am sure that we could find no better emissary.''
``Auguste is here,'' said Antoinette. ``I must see him.'' Her voice caught. ``I may never see him again. He may be ill, he may be starving--and I know that he is in trouble. Whether'' (her voice caught) ``whether Mr. Temple is with him or not, I mean to go.''
``Then it would be well to start,'' said the Vicomtesse.
Deftly dropping her veil, she picked up a riding whip that lay on the railing and descended the stairs to the courtyard. Antoinette and I followed. As we came through the archway I saw Andre, Monsieur de St. Gre's mulatto, holding open the wicket for us to pass. He helped the ladies to mount the ponies, lengthened my own stirrups for me, swung into the saddle himself, and then the four of us were picking our way down the Rue Chartres at an easy amble. Turning to the right beyond the cool garden of the Ursulines, past the yellow barracks, we came to the river front beside the fortifications. A score of negroes were sweating there in the sun, swinging into position the long logs for the palisades, nearly completed. They were like those of Kaskaskia and our own frontier forts in Kentucky, with a forty-foot ditch