by Mary Dillon
CHAPTER XXX
THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS
"What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."
But my impatience was of little avail, for before we left GovernmentHouse Dr. Saugrain invited me to dinner at Emigre's Retreat, andrestless and impatient as I might be, I did not dare show myself thereuntil the dinner-hour.
Five o'clock found me sitting in the dear old living-room, awaiting,with trembling the entrance of madame and Pelagie. It was the samedear old room I had pictured to myself so often, and all the grandsalons of Paris that I had seen since last I saw it did not make itlook any the less cozy and homelike to my eyes. It was a warm springafternoon, and the western windows were open, and the white curtainswere stirring in the breeze, only there was no maiden in white on thelow seat by the window, and no guitar and no Leon.
I had but a moment to wait. The door opened and in came madame, bothhands outstretched and running to meet me, and as I bent low beforeher, taking my face in both her hands and putting a kiss on my cheekand calling me "My son." And behind her came Pelagie, walking slowlybut looking up at me, yes, looking at me at last, with starry eyes anda great pulse throbbing in her snowy throat, and little tongues ofcolor coming and going in her cheeks. I was almost of a mind there,right before madame, to take her in my arms and call her mine, formine I was determined she should be; and I looked at her with such athreatening glance I think she divined my half-purpose and shrank backa little.
So instead I merely bowed over her hand and said gaily:
"You condescend to look at me at last, mademoiselle; I feared to-day Iwas to be forever banished from your friendly glances."
And she, relieved from her first apprehension, answered saucily:
"If monsieur comes unannounced, how can he expect to be recognizedafter so many months of absence?"
And then in stalked, majestically Leon, limping very slightly, andwhen he caught sight of me coming up to me and sniffing at me amoment, and then springing upon me with such wild bounds of delightthat I had to call hold, lest his great paws play havoc with my fineParis clothes that I had donned in mademoiselle's honor. And to quiethim I said in a high, small voice, in palpable burlesque ofmademoiselle:
"Taise-toi, mon ange!" and we both laughed merrily.
I was so happy that I was ready to do everything that was foolish,and I believe mademoiselle was happy, too, for nothing that I did wastoo foolish for her to laugh at.
Then in came the little doctor, running up to me and insisting onembracing me (because I was in his own house), pulling down my headand kissing me on each cheek, at which I blushed greatly, though I hadnot blushed when madame kissed me. And then came my captain andCaptain Lewis, and everyone talked at once, asking all manner ofquestions on all manner of subjects, and I had scarcely a chance tosay another word to Pelagie.
And then came dinner. As usual, madame put me beside her, and Pelagiesat at the other end of the table. But there was no scorning thistime, and I had better chance to look at her than if she sat besideme, and perhaps that was best, for my eyes could say to her much morethan my lips would dare in such a company.
Narcisse waited on the table, and was all smiles of welcome; andhalf-way through dinner, on some pretext or other, in came Clotilde,and greeted me, half crying through her smiles at memory of our trialstogether. And last of all came Yorke, grinning from ear to ear, and"declarin' to gracious I'd growed a foot sence," whereupon I was of amind to thrash him on the spot, and told him so, which made him grinthe more, if that were possible.
It was a grand dinner, and I told Madame Saugrain I had never tastedin Paris anything half so good as her wild turkey and croquecignollesand gooseberry wine, which I meant with all my heart, and whichgreatly pleased her housewifely soul.
Back in the living-room, when dinner was over, I missed something, andlooked around the room to discover what it was. It was the long Frenchmirror in which I had once watched Pelagie--the pride of madame'sheart.
"Why, madame," I said, "what have you done with your mirror?"
She shrugged her shoulders and looked ruefully at her husband.
"Antoine," she said, "needed some quicksilver for his experiments.Voila! my mirror!"
I glanced at Dr. Saugrain; he blushed and looked guilty, and so, forsome reason, I thought, did Captain Lewis.
"I will explain," said my captain. "You must know, my lad, that thesetwo," indicating the doctor and Captain Lewis with a wave of his hand,"have been confederates all winter in black art. They have lived inthe laboratory, and the instruments they have evolved for our trip upthe Missouri and over the mountains are fearful and wonderful tobehold. We are each of us provided with a box of little phosphorussticks by which we are to do away entirely with all use of tinder. Butmuch more wonderful than those, out of madame's mirror Dr. Saugrainhas fashioned little glass tubes holding quicksilver, and with ameasure laid off on the side by which we may be able to tell just howhot or how cold it may be. And more wonderful still, he has fashionedother little tubes by which we are to tell when it is going to stormand when it will be fair weather. And I cannot begin to tell you allthe wonderful appliances this magician has fashioned for our comfortand safety this winter, aided and abetted by his willing slave,Captain Lewis."
That unloosed the doctor's tongue, and there was no getting away therest of the evening from the wonders of science; and so strange werethe things he and Captain Lewis had to tell of what science could dothat I could have greatly enjoyed their talk had I not been longingfor a few words with Pelagie.
I determined that another day should not go by; without my havingthem, and so, in the course of the evening, I managed to ask her ifshe would ride with me the next afternoon to Chouteau's Pond. Ariding-party of two to Chouteau's Pond was of frequent occurrence inthe village, and I would not have feared a refusal but that Pelagiehad now been living so long where stricter social forms prevailed, soI awaited her answer with trembling. But she gave a shy assent, andfor me the evening at Emigre's Retreat was a grand success.
Twelve o'clock the next day, March the tenth, saw us all once more atGovernment House; and once more the American troops were drawn upbefore it, and once more the people filled the streets.
The people were very quiet; there was no longer any rejoicing; butevery eye was lifted to the flag that was so soon to sink from sight.
There were many Indians in the streets,--Delawares, Sacs, Shawnees,and others,--attracted to the town by the noise of firing the daybefore. Captain Stoddard had asked Governor Delassus to speak to themand explain to them the change of government, and the soldiers hadbeen sent to gather them up close to the gallery of Government House,where Don Delassus might speak to them. A dark-faced throng, seriousof countenance, they stood looking up at us, not a muscle of theircountenances changing while the governor spoke to them in the formaland stately fashion they loved.
"Delawares, Sacs, Shawnees, and others, my red brothers:
"Your old fathers, the Spaniard and the Frenchman, grasp by the handyour new father, the head chief of the United States. By an act oftheir good-will, and in virtue of their last treaty, I have deliveredup to them all these lands. They will keep and defend them, andprotect all the white and redskins who live thereon. You will live ashappily as if the Spaniard were still here.
"I have informed your new father, who here takes my place, that theDelawares, Shawnees, and Sacs have always conducted themselves well;that the chiefs have always restrained their young men as much aspossible.
"For several days we have fired off cannon to announce to all thenations that your father the Spaniard is going, his heart happy toknow that you will be protected and sustained by your new father, andthat the smoke of the powder may ascend to the Maker of life, prayinghim to shower on you all a happy destiny and prosperity in alwaysliving in good union with the whites."
There were many guttural "Ughs!" as he finished, and I think, from theway the dark eyes scanned the faces of the new of
ficers, theycomprehended at least a part of what had been said to them.
Once more a soldier at the corner of the gallery waved his hat towardthe white tower; once more the cannon boomed and slowly the tricolorof France descended, while the Stars and Stripes rose to meet it.Half-way up the flagstaff they stopped. For a moment they floated inthe breeze, side by side, and an involuntary cheer sprang from thepeople at the friendly sight. Then slowly the tricolor sank, andslowly rose the starry banner, flinging out its broad bars of whiteand crimson, beautiful emblem of liberty and the sovereignty of a freepeople, over the little village, nestling among the trees on thebluffs, that may one day be a mighty city; over the Great Riverflowing to the Gulf that a not far future may see bearing the commerceof a world on its bosom; over the broad prairies stretching to thedistant mountains which coming years will surely see peopled withhappy millions.
My heart swelled within me. I swung my hat high in the air and lustilyled the cheers of our troops and our little party on the gallery. Butwe were only a small band, and we made not much noise, and all theFrench and Spaniards stood and looked sadly on. And because our heartswere touched by their sorrow, we cheered no more, but looked up atour beautiful banner with pride and joy and love in our hearts.
* * * * *
Three hours later I was sitting on the gallery at Emigre's Retreatwaiting for mademoiselle, as I had waited for her on the day of thepicnic at Chouteau's Pond. Narcisse was holding Bourbon Prince by thedriveway below, and I was struggling to preserve a calm exterior, formy heart was going like a trip-hammer while I listened for my lady'scoming.
Out upon the gallery she stepped, riding-habit and hat and veil oflatest Paris mode--not the little Pelagie of the picnic day, butPelagie a princess of Conde, and my heart almost failed me.
I looked at her, and she was smiling at me with a smile I did notunderstand. Then she looked away, and my eyes followed hers. Aroundthe corner of the house Yorke was leading a horse,--a white star onthe forehead and one white foot like Bourbon Prince, but beautifulchestnut in color. For a moment I forgot my lady. Down the steps Isprang, and my arm was around the neck of the chestnut mare.
"Sweetheart!" I whispered in her ear. "Do you know me, sweetheart?"
She whinnied with joy and rubbed her soft muzzle up and down my arm,and whinnied again, while Yorke showed all his teeth in his delight,and my lady laughed and clapped her hands like a happy child.
I had not thought it possible she could bring Fatima with her and sohad not asked for her, though, truth to tell, I had had but littlechance to ask her about anything.
When I said so to her, "I would not have come without her," she said,looking shyly at me. "But I hope you do not want her back, for I loveher dearly."
Yes, I wanted her back, I said to myself; but with her mistress, too;but my only answer to mademoiselle was a smile that I think sheunderstood, for she looked quickly away from me.
Then I put her on Fatima's back, who bore a Parisian saddle nowinstead of a pillion, and out through the stockade we rode, and downthe rough path to La Petite Riviere, and through the ford (deeper now,from spring freshets, than it had been when I listened to thewhippoorwills), and along the wooded bank on the other side, where wehad raced to get away from the redskin (though that she never knew),and still I had not said the words I meant to say.
Under the tree that had been the goal for our race I drew up a minute.Here, I thought, will be a place of happy omen, for here I won myfirst dance with her, and here I will win her. But suddenly I recalledthat this was the spot where I had first seen the chevalier; no, itwas of evil omen. "By hairbreadth escapes we always win," he had said.I feared, the "luck of the Le Moynes" and their baleful motto.
Where we had stopped to look at the lake before, I stopped again. Itwas almost more beautiful in its setting of the soft pinks and greensof early spring than it had been under the golden sun of autumn, andhere, I thought, I will say it. But the glimpse of the ivied milltower among the trees, and the beautiful water and its wooded banks,reminded Pelagie of Ettenheim, and she began to tell me of a lettershe had just received from the Duc d'Enghien, which made her veryanxious.
"He writes," said Pelagie, "that he is being followed everywhere by anEnglishman who, he feels sure, is a spy in the pay of Bonaparte--Iwill never call him emperor!" said Pelagie, with fiery eye. "And whilehe says he feels no alarm for himself, he is more and more glad tothink that I am so safely away from all dangers."
But the thought of her letter had saddened Pelagie for a while, and Iwould not speak then. How little we dreamed that on that very day,perhaps at that very hour, the young duke was being seized byNapoleon's emissaries, in violation of all treaties of neutrality, andhurried to the gloomy fortress of Vincennes, where, ten days later,after a mock trial of two hours in the dead of night, with no chanceof defense given him, he was taken out and shot and buried in thetrench where he fell. When the dreadful news reached us, weeks later,it darkened for a while my sweet Pelagie's life, as it was the onecrime not even the friends of Napoleon can excuse or forgive: the onedark blot on his fame time will never erase.
But that afternoon we were in happy ignorance of what was happeningfour thousand miles away, and Pelagie's sadness was but a passingshadow and in a little while we were both joyous again.
"Rock Spring," I thought, "beloved of lovers, will be the place." Butat Rock Spring I could think of nothing but Yorke astride thechevalier's back, the grimy spectacle the chevalier presented whenYorke was dislodged, and then the fearful peril Pelagie had been inwhen I fled with her in my arms on Fatima's back. No, Rock Spring wasnot the place.
And so we were once more back at the ford, almost home, and the longshadows lying on the cool water, and a thrush singing his evening-songin the wooded crests behind us, and my tale had not been told. We hadhad much sweet converse, and many times the words were on my lips, butsomehow--I know not how--Pelagie always managed to turn me aside. Atleast I think she did, for with the words on my lips I would findmyself talking of something else.
Now, as our horses swashed their noses in the cool water, and sent thebright drops in showers about us, I looked down upon her, the darkgreen of her riding-habit making a rich foil to the soft glow of hercheek, and the drooping plume of her hat falling over her snowy neckand mingling with the dark ringlets, and one little hand from whichshe had drawn the glove playing with Fatima's tawny mane--and I took asudden resolution.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "do you know that to-day you are no longer aproud lady of France, but a simple American maiden?"
She looked up at me, startled. I think she knew what was coming, butshe answered bravely, though softly:
"Yes, monsieur," and then dropped her eyes and fell to playing withFatima's mane again.
"Mademoiselle, do you remember on La Belle Riviere the wager you wouldnot let me make?"
"Yes, monsieur," still more softly.
"Mademoiselle, if I had made that wager then I would have won itto-day. You taught me better, and I would not win you by a wager nowif I could. But oh, mademoiselle, you said by worth and deeds ofprowess a maiden's hand should be won; and there is no one in theworld--least of all I--worthy of you, mademoiselle, and no deeds ofprowess could be grand enough to deserve you, and I have nothing towin you with but my great love; will that avail me,--Pelagie?"
She did not answer for a moment; she was all rosy and drooping, andwith a happy smile about her lips, as she had been in the cabinet ofthe First Consul.
I put my great hand on her little one, still playing with Fatima'smane, and clasped it tight, though it fluttered like a bird at firstand then lay quiet.
"Pelagie, Pelagie, look up at me," I whispered. "I may call youPelagie, may I not?"
Swiftly and shyly she looked up into my eyes, and I looked down intoheaven.
"Yes, monsieur," she whispered.
Suddenly she broke into a low laugh, and tried to draw her hand awayfrom mine.
"My name is not Pelagie," s
he said.
"Not Pelagie!" I exclaimed, thinking she was playing me some merrytrick, and wishing she had chosen some other time to play it.
"No, monsieur," she said soberly. "They named me Pelagie when theybrought me over sea, but my name is Louise Adelaide, for my aunt theAbbess of Remiremont."
I was silent for a moment, for I liked not to think of little Pelagieby any other name. Then I gently took her hand again and raised it tomy lips:
"Louise Adelaide," I said, "may do for a princess of Conde, but youwill always be my little Pelagie to me," and so great was the love inmy heart that my voice trembled as I spoke, and we were both verystill for a little, while her hand lay quietly in mine.
Suddenly a thought struck me:
"Pelagie," I said, "you have never spoken my name; I do not believeyou know what it is."
"Yes, I do, monsieur." She looked up at me saucily. "Shall I tell youwhat it is?"
"Call me by it!" I implored her softly.
For answer she lifted her arms and drew my head down toward her andwhispered it in my ear.
And I, what did I do?
What would any man have done whose heart was running over with lovefor the most adorable maiden in the world, and her sweet face sonear?