The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

  CHAPTER IX

  MADAME CHOUTEAU'S BALL

  "The uncertain glory of an April day."

  We met at reveille the next morning at nine--the great Christmas feastwhen kinsfolk all gather at the house of the head of the family andmake merry together. Then I saw for what all the mighty preparationsof the day before were intended. The roasted fowl and venison pasty,smoking hot, were flanked by tarts and cakes and jellies and cordialsbeyond my power to inventory, for I had ever less of a talent for thedescription of such things than for making away with them.

  It was a goodly feast, and we lingered at table for over an hour,mingling with our enjoyment of Madame Saugrain's good things suchpleasant converse as Frenchmen excel in. Dr. Saugrain himself hadalways something wise and witty to say, and being a man of deeplearning and much science, was often, also, most instructive. An hour,therefore, passed quickly enough, and I was glad to see thatmademoiselle was looking more as she had looked before the picnic onChouteau's Pond than I had seen her since my return. But I had chancefor little more than the good wishes of the day with her, for thecompany was large and my seat, as usual, was near Madame Saugrain, atthe other end of the table from hers. My thoughts had dwelt much uponher when I lay on my bed the night before, a long hour ere sleepvisited my eyelids. I had lived over the events of the evening, and ofthe weeks that I had known her, and she had seemed to me not one, butmany maidens. Haughty, meek, scornful, merry, mocking, serious, sad,sweet--in how many moods had I not seen her, and in each in turn shehad seemed to me the sweetest. I always forgot, when I was with her,that she was a great lady in France and destined soon to return to herhome land and her rightful position. I never could think of her asanything but Dr. Saugrain's ward: wilful, sweet, and capricious, thebelle of St. Louis, the toast of the young men and the idol of theyoung maidens. That as a rule she had treated me with scorn orindifference did not in the least detract from her charms for me, butthe unwonted sweetness of the night before had quite gone to my head,and I was henceforth her willing slave.

  From the breakfast-table we separated; the captain and Dr. Saugraingoing to the doctor's laboratory, where he was making some wonderfulexperiments with phosphorus, by which one might at any moment obtain alight, without the aid of tinder, by means of little sticks of wooddipped in the phosphorus! 'Tis not to be wondered at that many peoplethink Dr. Saugrain a dealer in black arts when he can accomplish suchsupernatural results by the aid of science!

  As for me, I had an engagement with Josef Papin and Gabriel Cerre andsome other young men to go duck-shooting on the Maramec, a good day'stramp, and we did not expect to be back until nearly time for MadameChouteau's dance. I think the matrons and the maidens expected tospend the day in going to church and in making visits, which seemed tome a dull way to spend Christmas, but no doubt they liked it.

  It was a grand day for shooting, the air so clear and dry, just frostyenough to send the blood leaping through our bodies; and we came homewith a great string of prairie-chicken and duck and partridge--enoughto supply the village for a week. We were a little later than we hadintended in getting home, and tired enough to go right to bed, but I,for one, would not have missed this my first opportunity to appear in_grand costume du bal_, to say nothing of the joys of the dance.

  There was a hot supper waiting for me, which rested me wonderfully;and then, with Yorke's help, I had a quick bath and was into my balldress in a shorter time than I had dared to hope. Yorke had laid outmy dress for me and looked to the lace ruffles and lacers, so that Ihad only to jump into it and let him tie me up, and I was ready.

  I was glad that I had such a becoming costume with me, for, withoutbeing unduly vain, I knew that the rich plum-colored coat and breechesand the lilac satin waistcoat with fine lace frills and a touch ofgold here and there were a good offset to my yellow hair and rosycheeks, which, much as I despised them at times, I was yet at othertimes well satisfied to endure. I liked, too, the looks of my leg in afine white silk stocking and low pumps with shoe- and knee-buckles ofbrilliants, and was not above being proud of a well-turned calf andankle.

  Madame and mademoiselle had gone on ahead in a charrette, as bettersuited to their _costumes du bal_ than horseback-riding, and Dr.Saugrain and Captain Clarke had ridden by their side, leaving me tofinish dressing and hurry after them as soon as I could.

  A mad haste seized me before I reached Madame Chouteau's lest thefirst dance should be over and I lose my promised honor. I reflected,too, that mademoiselle would think me always tardy in keeping myengagements with her, and the thought lent spurs to my movements. Ientered the great ball-room in breathless haste. The walnut was waxedto the last perfection of slipperiness, and not taking heed to mysteps, my feet slipped up. But I caught myself from falling, thoughnot without as many gyrations of long arms and long legs as a Dutchwindmill might accomplish on a windy day.

  My remarkable entry was greeted with a shout of laughter by the youngmen and maidens, who by this time had come to know me well. I did notmind that, but I looked hastily toward Mademoiselle Pelagie, andthere, between the straight black brows, was the ominous little frownI had learned to dread. What availed my beautiful plum-colored velvetsand lavender satin, lace, and buckles, if I only succeeded in beingan awkward hobbledehoy? I must retrieve myself!

  I drew myself up in my grandest manner and walked up to MadameChouteau, sitting in state in a great arm-chair near thechimney-piece. With my courtliest bow, in my best French, I made mycompliments to her as if I had been accustomed to entering rooms in noother fashion. Then I made the circuit of the room, talking for aminute or two to each of my acquaintances, lingering longest byMademoiselle Chouteau, whose eyes were dancing with mirth, and soround the circle, head thrown back (but being careful of my steps),until I came to mademoiselle. There I stopped, with another low bow.Looking down on her, I was glad to see the frown was no longer there,but a look of something far pleasanter, almost like admiration, hadtaken its place.

  Of course she was surrounded by young men--that did not displease me:I liked to see her admired. She was wearing the same gown she had wornat Mr. Gratiot's the first time I saw her, and I said to myself: "Iknow not what her rank in France may be,--comtesse, marquise, orduchesse,--but I know she looks every inch la reine." I think my pridein her lent stateliness to my steps as I led her out in the dance. Iknow that for her sake I wished to look as much le roi as it was in meto look.

  But there was no chance during the minuet for mademoiselle's promisedconfidence, and as the evening went on I began to think there would benone at all. There had been the old folks' minuet, when Dr. Saugrainled out Madame Chouteau on the floor, and his plump little calves,silk-robed, had twinkled beside her stately steps in wondrous fashion.And then had come supper,--a bounteous feast of delicate cakes andsweetmeats and rich salads and cold fowl, with gooseberry wine and asweet punch brewed from New Orleans ratafia,--and I feared that wouldput an end to the festivities, and still there had been no chance.

  But 'tis a wonderful thing on what a small matter great matters willsometimes turn! Though there may be those who would think it no greatmatter that I should find myself riding home in the moonlight withmademoiselle on a pillion behind me, and Fatima going at so slow apace as put her in a constant fret of wonder as to what could be thereason that her master kept her down so, and mademoiselle telling meher story in a low tone (for being so near my ear she did not have toraise her voice), and sometimes trembling so much that the little armwhich was pretending to circle my great waist to hold on by (but whichonly reached by uttermost stretch a quarter-way around) would almostlose its grip.

  It seemed a great matter to me, and it happened in this wise: I hadbarely spoken to mademoiselle since our dance, when just as I wasgetting a glass of gooseberry wine and a croquecignolle forMademoiselle Chouteau (she said she had no stomach for salads andmeats at a dance) mademoiselle came up to me, inquiring most anxiouslyhad I seen her capote. 'Twas of heavy silk, and lined with the skinsof beavers, and would have been v
ery costly in Philadelphia, andhandsome enough for our greatest dames. I had not seen it, but offeredto go at once in search of it as soon as I had carried the wine andcroquecignolle to Mademoiselle Chouteau.

  We hunted together in all the most impossible places, and mademoisellegrowing every moment more anxious, because she was keeping madame andDr. Saugrain waiting. They were tired and longing to get home, and Isaid, half in jest:

  "Had I a pillion, Mademoiselle, we would tell madame not to wait, andwhen we had found your capote I could bring you home with me onFatima."

  But mademoiselle answered quickly:

  "Would you be so good, Monsieur? I doubt not Madame Chouteau wouldlend us a pillion, and it would greatly relieve my anxiety in keepingmadame waiting."

  I hardly knew whether I felt more joy or consternation, butmademoiselle gave me no time to decide which, but hurried me with herto persuade her guardians not to wait. I thought the arrangement didnot altogether please the doctor, and he demurred greatly; but hisgood wife, who never differed with mademoiselle (whether through beingover-fond or a little in awe, I am not sure), persuaded him that itwas all right and quite the best way.

  And five minutes after the charrette, with my captain and the doctoraccompanying it, drove out of Madame Chouteau's gate, the capote wasfound, mademoiselle herself suddenly remembering where she had laidit.

  I have never felt quite sure that mademoiselle had not known all thetime where it was. But I admired so much the cleverness that couldcontrive to accomplish her end (for myself, I could never plan orscheme, though quick enough to act if occasion presented) that Iforgave the little deceit, if there was any--maidens not being likemen, who must be true and straightforward in even the smallestmatters, lest their honor be attainted.

  But when I had mounted Fatima and lifted mademoiselle to her pillion,and felt her little arm steal round my great waist (as it needs must,to keep her from falling), my stupid heart began to beat so fast andto thump so hard against my waistcoat I feared the buttons would giveway, and was greatly shamed lest mademoiselle should feel it thumpingand guess the cause. Yet presently Fatima, not being accustomed topetticoats falling over her flanks, pranced on two feet in such afashion as to cause mademoiselle to clutch me convulsively with botharms, whereupon I found myself suddenly calm and master of thesituation. It was the work of a minute or two to reduce Fatima toorder and make her understand that petticoats and a pillion wereentirely proper. That being accomplished, and Fatima made tounderstand also that she was to go at her slowest pace, I was ready tohear mademoiselle's story, which finally she began:

  "Monsieur, I feel that I must take advantage of this opportunity soprovidentially offered me. I had not thought to confide in any one,but I am in sore need of advice, and I know not where else to turn."

  "I know not, Mademoiselle," I answered, "whether I am good at givingadvice. I had rather you would ask me to do for you some perilous andarduous service. But if it is advice you need most, then such as I canI will give you truly and faithfully."

  "I thank you, Monsieur"; and then mademoiselle was silent for so longa time that I half turned in my saddle to look at her. She looked upat me with a pitiful little smile.

  "Have patience, Monsieur--I will soon find my courage; but I have needto trust you greatly, for I am trusting you with the safety, perhapsthe life, of a friend. You will not let any harm come to him throughmy betrayal?"

  "I promise, Mademoiselle," I said, "to do nothing you will notapprove. But there should never be any question of a betrayal. If atrust has been given and received, then it is sacred, but it is notbetrayal if it has been forced upon one without his consent."

  I said this because I began to have a glimmering of the truth, and Idid not want mademoiselle to violate her conscience. No good can evercome from that, I have found, and much as I wanted to hear what shehad to tell me, I could not listen comfortably if I thought she werereally betraying a trust. I was still turned in my saddle, watchingher face, and I saw it lighten at once, and something like a greatsigh of relief seemed to come from the depths of her breast.

  "I see, Monsieur," she said, "you men understand right and wrongbetter than we maidens. It has troubled me greatly that I should proveunfaithful to a trust, and yet I saw no other way. And now, for fearmy courage will ooze out, I must tell you quickly.

  "Two weeks ago I received a letter from the Chevalier Le Moyne, a weekago I received a second, and yesterday I received a third. The purportof all these letters is the same. I have returned no answer to any ofthem, though each has begged for an answer and given me fullinstructions as to how to send it.

  "The chevalier has gone no farther south than Cape Girardeau. He iswaiting near there, in an Osage camp, to seize an opportunity torescue me, he says, and restore me to my people. If I had replied toeither of these letters, professing my willingness to go with him,then I should have received a note of instructions as to where to beon a certain day and at a certain hour. But I have replied to none,and the last letter has grown desperate. In it he says if he does nothear from me he shall return to St. Louis on the evening of the Jourdes Rois and be present at the dance, which is by custom a maskeddance, and will then find means to carry me off. If I am not willingto go with him, then I must send him a letter before the Jour de l'An,telling him so finally, when he will return to New Orleans and leaveme to my fate. Now, Monsieur, it will seem to you an easy matter thatI should write him, finally, that I will not go with him. But awoman's heart is a strange thing. I want to go with him, with all myheart, and yet I shudder at the very thought of going with him. When Ilet my thoughts dwell on the glories that await me in Paris, wealthand power and luxurious living, and the society of the great and thenoble, such as the chevalier has described it, I feel as if I must go,and all this life which has been so sweet to me here on the veryborders of civilization grows utterly distasteful. Yes, even thefriends that have been so dear to me begin to seem rude and boorish,as the chevalier called them. Sometimes, in some of my wayward moods,the very perils of the journey attract me with a strange fascination.The ride through the forest with savages for guards; the long journeyin an open boat on the bosom of the great Father of Waters; and atlast the perilous voyage by sea, all draw me strangely. At such timesthe chevalier seems to me an angel of light, and my only hope ofescape from my narrow confines to a broad and beautiful life. Butthere are times when it all seems very different: when the thought ofleaving my two dear guardians is unbearable, and the life I have knownand loved from childhood, among sweet, true friends, the only life Idesire. Ah, Monsieur, I am so torn by these conflicting states of mindthat what wonder my guardians think me changed! They believe thechevalier's tales have spoiled me for my life in St. Louis, and that Iwould gladly leave them. When I see them sad over what they believe tobe my heartlessness my own heart is like to break, but I say nothing,and they believe me to be entirely ungrateful and unfeeling.

  "So you can see how unhappy I have been and am, and how sometimes I amtempted to break away from it all and fly with the chevalier to newscenes, whether they bring joy or sorrow."

  Mademoiselle did not tell me all this without much hesitation,sometimes stopping entirely until she could find courage to go onagain, and, as I said before, often trembling so much that the littlearm about my great waist nearly lost its grip. I did not interrupt heronce, but waited, even after she had finished, for fear she might havemore to say. And presently she added:

  "If I do not answer the chevalier's letter he will be here on the Jourdes Rois, and it is more than likely he will lose his life in theattempt to carry me off, even if I were willing to go with him."

  "Mademoiselle," I said slowly, "it is a hard thing you have asked me,and I feel sure that whatever I may say I will make you angry, as Idid last night. Of course you know that what I would most like wouldbe that you should let the chevalier come on the Jour des Rois, and wewould capture him, and there would be an end to all this trouble. Butyou know, too, that since you have trusted me with his secret I w
ouldfeel in duty bound to save him and get him safely outside the stockadeagain, even, if need were, at the risk of my own life. The thing,therefore, that I wish you would do, and that seems to me the onlything to do, is to write him at once, telling him you will never gowith him, and bidding him return at once to France since his task is ahopeless one."

  "And cut myself off from seeing France and recovering my possessions!"

  "'Tis not cutting yourself off." (I spoke a little sternly, for I wasbeginning to feel irritated that she could not see the utter folly ofthinking for a moment of going with the chevalier.) "Your guardian isonly waiting for two things, and as soon as they are accomplished hewill send you to Paris. He is awaiting letters from your friends tosay the time is ripe for your return, and they are ready to receiveyou, and he is waiting to find a proper person in whose care he canplace you to make the voyage."

  "Then here is the time and the opportunity," said mademoiselle,eagerly: "my friends have sent the chevalier for me, and he is waitingto conduct me there."

  I could have shaken her, for a minute, her stupidity seemed so vast tome. Then I remembered she was really only a child, and that there aremany things maidens do not understand so well as men. So I tried tospeak gently, but so plainly that once for all she might understand.

  "Mademoiselle," I said, "do you not see that the very fact that thechevalier is trying to induce you to go to France alone with him isproof either of his villainy or of his colossal stupidity? Were he theangel of light he has sometimes seemed to you, and should he carry yousafely to France and deliver you into the hands of your friends, yetwho, in gay and skeptical Paris, would not be willing to believe theworst of both of you? The society that he has painted to you as readyto fall at your feet would be only ready to spurn you. Forgive me,Mademoiselle, for speaking thus plainly, but there is no man in theworld who would not believe that the very fact of the chevalier'strying to persuade you to go with him to France proves him a villainof the deepest dye."

  Mademoiselle did not answer; but her arms slipped from my waist, andpresently I felt her little head resting on my broad back, and sobswere shaking her little figure. I did not dare stir, for fear ofdisturbing her, but it was very uncomfortable to sit so rigidly erect,not daring to move, because a beautiful little black and curly headwas resting a little above the small of one's back, while tempests oftears were drenching one's military cloak, and the shaking from thesobs was making queer little shivers run up and down one's backbone.

  Now this was the second time my brutality had brought mademoiselle totears. This time I thought it was good for her, and was of a mind tolet her weep it out, though all the time longing to turn around andtake her in my arms and let her weep upon my breast instead of on myback.

  But presently I was aware of heroic efforts to stifle the sobs andstay the tears, and then I heard a most woebegone voice:

  "Oh, monsieur, what shall I do? what shall I do?"

  Now, I had brought Fatima to a standstill, for I was afraid to let hergo even at a slow walk when mademoiselle had no arm to hold on by, andher head bobbing at every step of Fatima's into the ticklish part ofmy back. And by chance we had stopped where the Rue Bonhomme climbsdown the bluff to the river, and our boats lay moored at its foot.Suddenly an answer to her question flashed into my head. It seemed tome a perfect solution of all difficulties, but in the nature of thecase I could say nothing to mademoiselle until I had consulted Dr.Saugrain and my captain.

  One thing I could say, however, and I reiterated what I had saidbefore:

  "One thing you can do at once, mademoiselle: write to the chevalier sofirm and positive a refusal that he will never trouble you again, andthen go and tell your guardian all about it. He deserves thisconfidence from you, and I think you will never be very happy untilyou have made him feel that there is no change in your gratefulaffection to him."

  There was another moment of silence, and then, in the meekest oftones:

  "I will do all you tell me, monsieur."

  I could not believe it was the same haughty mademoiselle who had soscorned "ce garcon-ca." But I was not going to show her the elation Icould not help feeling in her change of attitude; and being also mostsorry for her, and everything settled as far as it could be about thechevalier, I thought it time that she should be diverted from herunhappy thoughts, and so I bade her look down on the great river, nowrolling, a silver flood under the moon, straight to Cape Girardeau,where the chevalier was lingering, and past fort and forest on to therich city of New Orleans. For a moment the old longing returned to beone of a great army borne on its swift waters to capture the haughtycity that held the gateway to the sea. I thought it no harm to tellmademoiselle what my dreams had been, and we both laughed merrily atthe audacity of them.

  But the night was passing, and gently lifting mademoiselle's arm andplacing it so that it should once more hold her secure on her pillion,I put Fatima to a gentle canter; and as I felt Pelagie's clasptighten, my pulse leaped faster in my veins, and I gave Fatima fullrein, and we went thundering down the Rue Royale, past MadameChouteau's place, with the last revelers just coming through the greatgates; past Auguste Chouteau's house, standing dark among its trees;past the Government House, still brightly lighted, for GovernorDelassus and his retinue were just entering the great hall; turned upthe Rue de la Tour, with the tower at the top of the hill shiningwhite in the moonlight, then down the long stretch of the Rue del'Eglise, faster and faster, as mademoiselle clung closer, until wereached the gate of Emigre's Retreat, and a great dog came rushing tomeet us with mighty bounds and joyous barks, and would haveoverpowered us both with his clumsy caresses but that a sweet voice(never before one half so sweet) called:

  "A bas, Leon! Tais-toi, mon ange!"