by Mary Dillon
CHAPTER XXIX
UNDER THE OLD FLAG
"And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky."
It was in the early days of March, some eight months later, that thebig barge in which I had come down the Ohio, and thus far on theMississippi, put me ashore at New Madrid with my saddle-bags and myhorse Bourbon Prince; for so I had promptly named the black beauty forwhom I had exchanged my chestnut mare. He could never quite take theplace of Fatima in my affections, but I had grown very fond of him:partly for his virtues, for he was a thoroughbred of famous lineage,and partly, I have no doubt, because he had once belonged tomademoiselle.
Of mademoiselle I had not heard for many months. I had arrived at homein the late summer, to find my father a physical and almost a mentalwreck from the stroke of paralysis that had laid him low nearly threemonths before. Yet I had never loved my strong, stern father in theprime of manhood, managing great business enterprises, occupyingplaces of honor and responsibility in the State, as I loved thisfeeble and broken old man with the face and the manner of a littlechild. As the weeks went on and he gradually grew able to move about,it was my pride and my joy to walk slowly down Chestnut Street, myfather leaning heavily on my arm, and looking up into my face tocomment with childish delight upon whatever pleased him in thestreets.
I had had to assume, to the best of my ability, his heavy businessresponsibilities, and the charge of his great properties, and but thatmy mother was herself a fine business woman and thoroughly informed onmy father's affairs I might have made shipwreck of it all. It was notthe life I had chosen for myself, but it lay so directly in the pathof duty there was no escaping it, and it kept every moment so fullyoccupied there was no time left for brooding over private troubles.
I had received a letter from the Prince de Polignac about two weeksafter my return home, telling me of the safe arrival in Baden of theComtesse de Baloit. It was a very courteous letter, thanking me oncemore for the great services I had rendered them on that eventful nightin the Chantilly parks, and inclosing a pleasant message ofacknowledgment from the Duc d'Enghien for the kindness shown hiscousin the countess. Mademoiselle had added a line in her own writing:
"Fatima is well, and I love her for the sake of dear old St. Louis.
PELAGIE."
To most people that might seem a very common-place little message; tome those sixteen words were the most wonderful ever written. I twistedand turned them until each one became a volume of tender sentiments,and the little signature "Pelagie" almost too sacred to be looked at,and only to be kissed, shut up in my own room in the dark, or withnone but the moon to see.
I had replied to the prince's letter immediately, sending a courteousmessage to the duke and a special one to Pelagie about Clotilde, whomI had sent under safe escort to St. Louis. But although I hadintimated to the prince that it would give me very great pleasure tohear occasionally of the welfare of the countess, I never heard fromany of them again.
This, of course, was an especial grief to me on Pelagie's account, butalso it touched me a little that the prince should so soon haveforgotten me and what he was pleased to term my "great services" tohim, for I had been strongly attracted to him by his noble bearing andchivalrous protection of mademoiselle. Often, in thinking of them,--hea noble young prince of great manly beauty and endowed by nature withall charming and lovable qualities; she the most exquisite ofwomankind,--I thought it would be strange indeed if in the intimatecompanionship of that long ride together they had not become so deeplyinterested in each other as to forget the existence of a youngAmerican gentleman three thousand miles away.
When in the winter there came news of the Cadoudal plots against thelife of Napoleon, in which the young Prince de Polignac and his olderbrother the duke were involved; that both brothers had been arrested,tried, and condemned to death; and, later, that Napoleon had grantedthem a free pardon, I could easily believe that other interests thanlove and marriage had so absorbed the prince as to make him forgetfulof a distant acquaintance.
On the heels of this appalling news, which shook the world and whichyet left me glad and grateful that the chivalrous young prince hadbeen saved from the ignominious death of an assassin, there came aletter to me from Captain Clarke, written in St. Louis, inviting me tojoin the expedition of discovery and exploration which Mr. MeriwetherLewis and he were to conduct up the Missouri River and across themountains.
Few duties have come to me in life more difficult to perform than thewriting of that letter declining the invitation. It was the life Ilonged for, to be had for the taking, and an expedition of such kindunder the leadership of two men like my captain, whom I still adored,and Mr. Meriwether Lewis, whom I greatly admired, was the strongesttemptation that could be presented to me.
But I knew well it was not for me. It would, no doubt, be a year ortwo in the accomplishing, with many hazards to life and limb, and Iwas now the virtual head of the family, with mother and sisters andinvalid father all looking to me for protection and guidance andcomfort. No, it was not to be thought of.
Without consulting any one I sent my answer, but I suppose my face wasan open book to my dear mother, and in some moment of abstraction Ihad forgotten to be cheerful and so betrayed that something wastroubling me. At any rate, she came to my room one night, and there,in the way that mothers have, she beguiled my secret from me. Sheagreed with me that it would never do in my father's state of healthto join such an expedition, but she was greatly distressed for whatshe called my disappointment, though I tried to assure her it was notenough to think about.
Now mothers have a way of finding a salve for every hurt. I suppose itis a talent God has given them, that this world may be a pleasanterplace for living in, and that the rugged path we have to tread throughit may be smoother and pleasanter to our feet. (Though I hope no onewill think because I have said this that I am one of those long-facedpeople who think this world a vale of woes to be traversed as quicklyas possible, looking neither to the right nor to the left, lest theysee something to please their eyes. I have ever found it a pleasantworld, and my path through it of exceeding interest, with some sorrowsand many difficulties to test one's mettle and add to the zest ofliving; but also with many wonderful and beautiful things lying allalong the path, that God has placed there that one may stop and enjoythem and rest by the wayside.)
Now the salve my mother found for this hurt was one to my especialliking.
"Though you could not be gone from home two or three years, my son,"she said, "a matter of two or three months could make no greatdifference to any one; why not go out to St. Louis, see your friendsthere, and help the expedition get under way?"
My heart gave a great leap. "And get news of mademoiselle from Dr.Saugrain," I said to myself; but then I hesitated. Would my fathermiss me too sadly? for he had seemed to lean upon me much for comfortand companionship. When I expressed my fears to my mother, shehesitated also, but we both finally agreed we would leave it to her tobroach the matter to my father, and if it seemed to distress him toogreatly, we would say nothing more about it.
To my surprise, he was almost more eager for it than my mother. Itneed not have surprised me, for even in the old days my father, thoughstern, had never been selfish, and now all the unselfishness of hisnature had seemed to grow strong with his feebleness.
Thus it was that I stood once more on the shores of the Great River.Had my impatience permitted me to wait a little longer at Pittsburg, Imight have found a boat going all the way to St. Louis, but I hadrather take the ride of nearly a hundred and fifty miles on Bourbon(for so I had shortened his name) than to spend a day in idle waiting.A barge going to New Orleans (New Orleans had been under our flagsince the twentieth of December, and the river was teeming with craftbearing our merchandise to the once prohibited market) took me onboard and put me ashore at New Madrid in the early morning, and I lostnot a moment's time in getting started on my northward way.
The spring was early that y
ear, and in the warm and sheltered valley,lying open to the south, where New Madrid nestles, the orchards werealready a pink and white glory, and in the forest glades the wildazaleas and the dogwood were just ready to burst into bloom. Ridingunder leafy archways of tall trees garlanded with wild vines, orthrough natural meadows dotted with clumps of shrubbery, as if set outby the hand of man for a park, where the turf was like velvet underBourbon's feet; crossing little streams that a sudden rush ofheadwater from the hills had swollen to dangerous torrents, or otherstreams that backwater from the Great River had converted into inlandlakes; the air sweet with the fragrance of the wild crab andblossoming grape; wood-thrush and oriole, meadow-lark andcardinal-bird, making the woods ring with their melodies--this ridethrough Upper Louisiana in the early springtime was one long joy toeye and ear and nostril. Farther north the spring was less advanced,only little leaves on the trees, and for flowers a carpet, sometimesextending for miles, of creamy-white spring-beauties, streaked withrosy pink, laid down for Bourbon's feet to tread upon; and for birdsthe modest song-sparrow and bluebird, earliest harbingers of spring.
I stayed the first night in Cape Girardeau (and thought of thechevalier in hiding for weeks among the Osages near by); the secondnight I spent with the Valles in Ste. Genevieve. I had known youngFrancois Valle in St. Louis the winter before, and meeting me on thestreet as I rode into town, he carried me off at once to his father'shouse with true Louisiana hospitality--a hospitality that welcomed thecoming but did not speed the parting guest. I found it hard work toget away the next morning, with such friendly insistence did they urgeme to remain for a visit, seeming to feel also that I was putting aslight upon their quaint old town--the oldest in Upper Louisiana--byso short a stay.
But I was impatient to be on my way, and my impatience grew as Ineared St. Louis. A long day's ride brought me toward evening to thebanks of the Maramec, full to the brim of its high banks withbackwater from the Mississippi. I thought, at first, I would have toswim it, but, fortunately, I spied a horn hanging from the limb of asycamore above my head, and I knew enough of the ways of this frontiercountry to know that a horn by a river-bank meant a ferry. So I blewit lustily, and in five minutes there appeared from under theoverhanging trees of the opposite bank a flatboat, paddled by an oldman, who not only ferried Bourbon and me safely across dry-shod, butpersuaded me to spend the night with him in his little cabin; for thenight was coming on cloudy and dark, and there were still nearlytwenty miles to ride, and swollen streams to cross that might meantrouble in the dark. He had not the great house of the Valles, withtroops of slaves to wait on us and an abundance of frontier luxuries(for Mr. Francois Valle, Sr., was the richest man in all that country)but his hospitality was as genuine. For the ferriage he took money,since that was his business; for the night's lodging and supper andbreakfast he would have none of it. True, my bed was only a bearskinon the hard floor, and my supper and breakfast were the same,--a sliceof bacon and a bowl of hominy,--but such as he had he gave me of hisbest.
In the early dawn I had a plunge in the Maramec for bath (and itswaters had the icy tang of the melting snows on the distantmountains), and then I made a careful toilet, for in a few hours Iwould see my old friends in St. Louis, and, at thought of the merryglances from bright eyes I would soon be meeting, my heart sank withinme that Pelagie's would not be among them.
As I neared St. Louis, every step of the way was full of reminders ofher. Crossing La Petite Riviere, I thought of the day of the picnic onChouteau's Pond, and involuntarily I listened for the call of thewhippoorwill. But instead there was the happy song of the spring birdsfilling the woods that crested the banks, and my heart grew lighter inresponse to their joyous melodies.
I entered the town by the lower entrance, leading through the stockadeon to the Rue Royale, for I was of a mind to ride through the streetsof the town and see whom I should chance to meet before presentingmyself at Dr. Saugrain's.
I had advanced no great distance when I saw coming to meet me asplendid procession: young men and maidens, parents and children, thewhole population of the town, I should think, in gala array, andsinging as they came.
I was overwhelmed at the prospect of such honor accorded me, andgreatly touched, too, that my old friends should welcome me back sogladly, but I was in a quandary what to do: whether it would be moredignified to stay Bourbon in the middle of the road and await theirapproach, or whether to advance to meet them.
It puzzled me greatly, also, that they should have known the exactmoment of my arrival, for although both Dr. Saugrain and CaptainClarke knew of my intended visit, they could hardly have calculated tosuch a nicety not only the day but the very hour of my entry intotown. It must be that pickets had been stationed to descry my approachfrom a distance and give the signal.
Still puzzling my brains over the wonder of it all, and hardly knowingwhether to feel more proud or more frightened at the honor intendedme, and wishing with all my heart that I had known of it that I mighthave arrayed myself in a costume befitting the occasion, I slowly drewnear the procession, and the procession drew near me.
Then suddenly I discovered what nothing but my domtiferous vanity hadprevented me from discerning from the first: this was a religiousprocession bearing the banners of the church and singing Aves and TeDeums. I had known such processions before in St. Louis on saints'days, and always headed by the two most beautiful maidens in the town,bearing silver plates, who, as the procession drew up to the church,stood on either side of the door holding the plates to receive alms. Idrew Bourbon to one side of the road and waited.
Yes, there were the two beautiful maidens with the silver plates, andI was not surprised to see that one was Mademoiselle Chouteau; and asshe drew near she could not resist a saucy look of recognition in herdancing eyes, entirely out of character in the leader of a religiousprocession. I smiled back at her, my heart already growing warmer andlighter with her friendliness, and then I glanced at the other: a wavymass of soft, dark hair, little ringlets about white neck and brow,lips like a scarlet pomegranate blossom, and long, black lashes lyingon an ivory cheek, where the pale rose was fast turning to crimsonunder my gaze.
It was Pelagie! Her cheek told the tale that she knew I was looking ather, yet not once did she lift her eyes and look at me. I wonder thatmy heart did not break through my breast, so great a bound it madewhen I discovered her, and then all the blood in my body flowed backupon it, and I sat on Bourbon as one carved in marble, while friendsand acquaintances passed by and smiled up at me in kindly welcome. Notuntil Josef Papin left the ranks and came up to me with outstretchedhand could I recover myself and begin to feel alive again, with theblood slowly running back in its courses and tingling in myfinger-tips.
"Come," he said, when the first greetings were over, "tie your horseto the tree, and we will fall in at the end of the line and go up tothe church together. This is no saint's day, as you might think, butwe are to have mass for the last time under the old rule. The UnitedStates troops come over to-day from Cahokia and take possession."
This was wonderful news to me, and I could not but feel a greatsympathy with him, for he spoke with a voice that faltered. What wouldit not have meant to me if my own city of Philadelphia were beingtransferred to the rule of France or Spain!
On our way he told me what my soul most longed to hear: howmademoiselle came to be in St. Louis.
Her cousin, the Duc d'Enghien, had begun to feel that his home was nolonger a safe place for her, for Bonaparte's spies were watching him,and he felt that though Baden was neutral territory he might at anymoment be arrested and thrown into prison. That would leave Pelagieentirely unprotected, and he had begun to consider some other saferretreat for her. When mademoiselle found that she was to be sent awayfrom Ettenheim, she begged that she might return to St. Louis, theonly place she had known as home, and to the people she loved, who hadbeen to her kindred and friends. It was only after much pleading thatthe duke had been persuaded to let her go so far from home again, butmademoiselle's
heart was set on it.
"And," said Josef Papin, "as we both know, when she will, she will; Idefy any man to gainsay her. She arrived two weeks ago by way of NewOrleans, with a Monsieur and Madame Dubois, newly married, I believe,who were coming over to America to settle."
"Monsieur and Madame Dubois!" I said, in some excitement.
"Yes; do you know them?" asked Josef, curiously.
"I am not sure. I may have met them; I met a Monsieur and MadameDubois once at Chantilly near Paris," I answered carelessly, "but verylikely they are not the same."
"No, they could not be," answered Josef, "for they were married onlyjust before leaving for America."
And then there was no chance to say anything more, for our end of theprocession was nearing the church door, where on either side stoodMademoiselle Chouteau and Pelagie, holding out their silver platesalready piled high with livres.
As I glanced at Pelagie I felt as if royalty radiated from her--fromthe proud pose of her dainty head to the high-bred arch of her littlefoot. "A princess of Conde!" I exclaimed to myself half angrily, "andmeekly holding the church plate for negroes and Indians and humblehabitans, and smiling up into the faces of her old friends with aroyal sweetness."
I was on the side next her as we drew near the door. Will she look atme? I wondered. We were the last in the line; it would hinder no oneif I stopped a moment beside her.
But I could not make her look up at me. One louis d'or after another Ipiled upon her plate, but the only effect it had was to make ittremble in her hands and the color deepen steadily in her face. Icould not stand there gazing rudely at her, and I went into the churchbeside Josef Papin as in a dream, half doubting it was mademoiselle,yet watching her eagerly as she and Mademoiselle Chouteau bore theplates up the aisle and held them aloft before the altar for thepriest to bless.
The service that followed was indescribably solemn and touched megreatly; it was as though it were a service for the dead, and thepeople (the whole village was there, every man, woman, and child I hadknown the year before) chanted the responses with the tears runningdown their cheeks. Josef Papin had told me that the old priest who hadbaptized all the younger generation and married their parents wasgoing away with the Spaniards, unwilling to be subject to a foreignrule, and the mourning of the people for their father was from theheart.
As they knelt upon the floor to receive the benediction (and the soundof their kneeling was like the breeze among the dry leaves of autumn)they broke out into a long, low wail that rose and swelled and thendied away in the sound of suppressed sobbing. Nevermore under Latinrule would they kneel in their dear old church, but under the rule ofthe hated Anglo-Saxons, their hereditary foe. Nevermore would thepriest they had loved and reverenced for years extend his hands overthem in blessing. The good father's voice broke again and again as hetried in vain to utter the familiar words, until at length, his handsupraised to heaven, tears streaming from his eyes, he uttered thesimple words, "Go in peace, my children."
I was near the door and I slipped quietly out. It was not a time tomeet old friends, and I felt like one intruding upon a house ofmourning. Heads were still bowed in the solemn hush that followed thebenediction and no one saw me go. I hurried back to where I had leftBourbon, mounted him, and rode slowly up toward Government House.
Long before I reached it the streets were filled. With the quickchange from grave to gay, natural to these volatile creoles, the samepeople that a few moments ago had been all tears and sorrow were nowall excitement and curiosity. Down from the fort on the hill marched atroop of Spanish soldiers, stopping at Government House to salute thegovernor, and then forming in company order in front of the house toawait the coming of the United States troops.
Beside Governor Delassus on the gallery of Government House stood myold friend Mr. Meriwether Lewis; for he seemed an old friend to me,though I had known him but that one memorable day in Washington. Inresponse to a friendly wave of the hand from both I dismounted and ranup the steps to speak to them for a moment. They presented me to athird officer, Captain Stoddard, the officer in command of the UnitedStates troops who were to take possession, and also, as GovernorDelassus informed me, empowered by the French prefect at New Orleansto receive the city for the French republic from the Spanish.
I stayed only a moment, for Captain Lewis told me I would find CaptainClarke and Dr. Saugrain at the landing at the foot of the RueBonhomme, so I followed in the wake of the motley crowd of habitans,negroes, and Indians trooping along the Rue Royale and filling LaPlace with a many-colored throng, as they had filled it on the day Ifirst set foot in St. Louis.
Bourbon Prince picked his way carefully along the steep path that leddown the bluff to the landing at the foot of the Rue Bonhomme, wherethe boats from Cahokia bearing the United States troops were alreadyapproaching the shore, and where I found awaiting them, as CaptainLewis had said I should, my old friend, the little doctor, and mycaptain (for so I shall always call Captain Clarke), and the warmth oftheir greeting set my heart to dancing merrily.
My spirits had been rising steadily every moment since I had recoveredfrom my stupefaction at the sight of Pelagie. What though she wouldnot look at me, I was nothing daunted; for now that she was safe onAmerican soil,--yes, _American_, Spanish no longer,--nor chevaliersnor dukes nor First Consuls should deter me from boldly trying to winher. For the first time since I had known her I felt that I had aright to try. She was no longer a titled lady of France, and I was nowmy own master and could maintain her in greater luxury than she hadever known. I would take her home with me to Philadelphia! and mydear mother and my fond old father would love her as they loved mysisters. My spirit was exultant, and that she dared not meet my eyeslent more of hope than discouragement.
So it was with a happy heart that I met the little doctor's beamingglance, and felt the strong grasp of my captain's hand as he utteredhis hearty "Welcome home, my lad." And little I cared that he calledme lad; indeed, had he addressed me by any other title I should havemissed some of the friendliness of his greeting.
"You are to stay at Emigre's Retreat, you know," said Dr. Saugrain;"Madame Saugrain is as happy in the thought of your home-coming as ifyou were her own boy."
But Josef Papin coming down the bluff at that moment and overhearingthe doctor, interposed:
"No, Dr. Saugrain, he is my guest this time. You had him all lastwinter, and you have had Captain Clarke and Captain Lewis all thiswinter; you must share some of your honors with me."
It was not for me to decide a question of such kind, and though myheart turned longingly to the hospitable hearth that had firstentertained me in St. Louis, feeling that in no other house would itseem so truly a home-coming, yet I was not sure but it was better thatit was finally decided that I should stay with Josef Papin, for I wasdetermined to put my fortune to the touch, and should Pelagie proveunkind (a contingency, however, that I refused to contemplate), itwould be embarrassing indeed to be under the same roof with her.
But now there was no longer time for discussion of any kind, for theboats were running their keels into the bank, and Lieutenant Worrall,temporarily in command of the troops, was the first man to leapashore. We all went down to meet him, and when he had formed hisbattalion in line, we accompanied him up the steep bluff and down theRue Royale to Government House, a great throng following.
Then Lieutenant Worrall drew up his troops facing the Spanish troops.The open space where the Rue Royale crossed the Rue de la Tour wasdensely packed with people. Every man, woman, and child of thevillage, it seemed to me, must be there, yet I looked in vain foreither Madame Saugrain or Pelagie. I fastened Bourbon farther up thestreet, and at the invitation of Governor Delassus sent us by anorderly I accompanied Dr. Saugrain, Josef Papin, and my captain to thegallery of Government House, where we found also both the Chouteausand many of the leading citizens of the village.
As soon as the American troops were drawn up in line, GovernorDelassus stepped to the front of the gallery, holding in his hand adocu
ment bearing the seals of the United States and of Spain, and at asign from him, Captain Stoddard stepped to his side, a similardocument in his hand. Then Governor Delassus held the paper up so thatall the people might see, and, as every voice was hushed and all eyesturned on him, he read:
"Now be it known unto all men by these presents that I, Carlos D. Delassus, in quality of lieutenant-governor, at the requirement duly made to me by Amos Stoddard, agent and commissary of the French republic, have delivered to him the full possession, sovereignty, and government of Upper Louisiana, with all the military posts, quarters, and fortifications thereto belonging or dependent thereof."
Immediately Captain Stoddard took up the refrain, reading on from where the governor stopped:
"And I, Amos Stoddard, commissary as such, do acknowledge to have received the said possession on the same terms mentioned in these presents, of which I acknowledge myself satisfied and possessed on this day. In testimony whereof the lieutenant-governor and myself have respectively signed these presents, sealed with the seal of our arms, being assisted with the witnesses signed below. Of which proceedings six copies have been made out, to wit, three in the Spanish and three in the English languages.
"Given in the town of St. Louis of Illinois, 9th March, 1804.
"Amos Stoddard (seal)
"Carlos Dehault Delassus (seal)
"In presence of Meriwether Lewis, Captain First United States Regiment Infantry. Antoine Soulard, Surveyor-General, etc. Charles Gratiot."
As Captain Stoddard finished reading, the governor turned to him andwith formal courtesy placed him in possession of Government House.Captain Stoddard accepted it with a brief and appropriate speech, andthen, the silence still unbroken, the stately don turned once more tothe people and spoke to them directly:
"Inhabitants of Upper Louisiana:
"By the king's command I am about to deliver up this post and itsdependencies!
"The flag under which you have been protected for a period of nearlythirty-six years is to be withdrawn. From this moment you are releasedfrom the oath of fidelity you took to support it."
There was a stir among the people. Tears were running down theweather-beaten faces of some of the older men, and many of the womenwere sobbing quietly. Visibly moved himself, the governor addedanother word:
"The fidelity and courage with which you have guarded and defended theflag will never be forgotten; and in my character of representative Ientertain the most sincere wishes for your perfect prosperity."
The governor bowed and stepped back, and instantly there broke fromthe people a storm of _adios_ and _benitos_ with tears and waving ofhands.
The governor motioned to a soldier standing by. The soldier stepped toa corner of the gallery which could be seen from the fort on the hill,and waved his hat. Instantly puffs of white smoke issued from thefull battery of the fort, followed by the roar of the cannon rollingacross the wide river to the distant bluffs of Cahokia. As the lastecho died away the soldier waved his hat once more. Slowly the flag ofSpain floating above the white tower sank. Once more the cannonroared, and slowly the banner of France rose, higher and higher, untilits folds were flung proudly to the breeze, above the tower on thehill, above the Great River, above the old French town where it hadfloated thirty-six years before.
Almost every soul, save negroes and Indians, in that multitudewatching in breathless silence the exchange of the flags, was French,and as the banner of the land they had never ceased to love and tocall home floated out on the breeze, with one accord they fell ontheir knees, eyes streaming, arms outstretched toward the loved symbolof their fatherland.
It had been the intention that the flag should remain there but a fewminutes--just long enough to show that Upper Louisiana was French, andthat France ceded it to the United States. But now Pierre and AugusteChouteau, the older Papin, Dr. Saugrain, all the leading citizens onthe gallery of Government House, gathered around Captain Stoddard andbegged him, with trembling voices and misty eyes, to let the old flagstay for another day.
"Let us be Frenchmen for twenty-four hours," they begged, "and afterthat we will try to be loyal citizens of the United States, as we havebeen loyal citizens of Spain."
When Captain Lewis and Captain Clarke added their plea for theFrenchmen, Captain Stoddard willingly granted it, and stepping to thefront of the gallery, he announced that for twenty-four hours the flagof the French republic would float over St. Louis.
Then broke forth a delirium of joy. Men threw their arms around oneanother and embraced and kissed in a fashion strange, indeed, to usAnglo-Saxons; and women fell into one another's arms and sobbed. Theroar of the cannon had not ceased to roll over the heads of the peopleat intervals of every two minutes, and now the United States troopstook their line of march up the Rue de la Tour to the fort on the hill(for though the American flag did not float from it, they were to holdit in the name of France); and the Spanish troops marched away.
The ceremonies for the day were over; the cannon ceased to roar, andCaptain Stoddard who was now in possession of Government House,invited us all to stay to dejeuner. The meal was a long andceremonious one, with the Spanish don on Captain Stoddard's right andone of the Chouteaus on his left, and I far down the table with someof the younger men; and through it all I was thinking of that firstmeal I had taken in St. Louis in this same Government House a year anda half before, and of the toast that roused such enthusiasm then; andevery moment my impatience grew to get away and visit Emigre's Retreatand Madame Saugrain, and--the Rose of St. Louis.