The Flower of the Chapdelaines

by George Washington Cable

  The meek _religieuses_ did their best to be both interested andsincere, but somehow found diplomacy to escape the "li'l' lake" and itsgoldfish, and even took the piety of the cat with a dampening absenceof mind. Their departure was almost hurried. There was nothing to doon either side, the four agreed, but to wait the turn of events.

  The two gray robes and white bonnets had but just got away when thebell rang again and Mlle. Yvonne let in Mme. De l'Isle and Mrs. Chester.

  But these calls were in mid-afternoon. The evening previous--"Show Mr.Chester to three-thirty-three," the hotel clerk had said, and presentlyMrs. Chester was all but perishing in the arms of her son.

  "Geoffry! Geoffry! you needn't be ferocious!"

  They took seats facing each other, low seats that touched; but whenthey joined hands a second time he dropped to his knees, asking manyquestions already answered in her regular and frequent letters. Newsis so different by word of mouth when the mouth's the sweetest,sacredest ever kissed. "And how's father?"

  As if he didn't know to the last detail!

  All at once--"Why didn't you say you were coming?" he savagely demanded.

  "No matter," his mother replied, "I'm glad I didn't, things havehappened so pleasantly. I've seen your whole Royal Street coterie,except, of course----"

  "Yes, of course."

  The mother told her evening's experience.

  "And you like my friends?"

  "Why, Geoffry, you're right to love them. But, now, how came you backso soon from St. What's-his-name?"

  "Opposing counsel compromised the case without trial. Mother, it's thegreatest professional victory I've ever won."

  "Oh, how fine! Geoffry, how are you getting on, professionally,anyhow?"

  "Better than my best hope, dear; far better. I've shot right up!"

  "Then why do you look so weary and care-worn?"

  "I don't. I'm older, that's all, dear."

  "Oh! Prospering and care-free, and yet you'd drop everything and go toFrance, to war."

  "No, dearie, no. I'm sorry I wrote you what I did, but I only said Ifelt like it. I don't now. I envied those Royal Street boys, whocould do that with a splendid conscience. I--I can't. I can't gokilling men, even murderers, for a remote personal reason. I must waittill my own country calls and my patriotism is pure patriotism. That'shigher honor--to _her_, isn't it?"

  "It is to you; I'm not bothering about her."

  "You will when you see her, first sight. To-morrow afternoon, you say.Wish I could be there when your eyes first light on her! Mother,dearie, isn't it as much she as I you've come to see?"

  "Well, if it is, what then?"

  "I'm glad. But I draw the line at seeing. _Help_, you understand, Idon't want--I won't have!"

  "Why, Geoffry, I----!"

  "Oh, I say it because there isn't one of that kind-hearted coterie whohasn't wanted to put in something in my favor. I forbid! A dozen toone--I won't allow it! No, nor any two to one, not even we two. Winor lose, I go it alone. 'Twould be fatal to do otherwise if I would.You'll see that the minute you see her."

  "Why, Geoffry! What a heat!"

  "Oh, I'll be the only one burned. Good night. I can't see youto-morrow before evening. Shall we dine here?"

  "Yes. Oh, Geoffry--that New York letter! Manuscript accepted?"

  A shade crossed the son's brow. "Don't you think I ought to tell herfirst?"

  "Her first," the mother--the _mother_--repeated after him. "Maybe so;I don't care." They kissed. "Good night."

  "Good night . . . good night . . . good night, dear, darling mother.Good night!"

  XLVIII

  At the batten door of her high, tight garden-fence Mlle. Yvonne, werepeat, let in Mme. De l'Isle and Mrs. Chester.

  "Mother of--ah-h-h!" Her rapture was mated to such courteous restraintthat dinginess and dishevelment were easily overlooked. "And 'owmarvellouz that is, that you 'appen to come juz' when he--and us--we'regetting that news of the manu'----"

  "What! accepted?"

  "Oh, _that_ we di'n' hear _yet_! We only hear he's hear' something,but we're sure tha'z the only something he can hear!" She had begun toclose the gate, but Mrs. Chester lingered in it.

  "That fine large house and garden across the way," she said, "are theya Creole type?"

  "Yes, bez' kind--for in the city. They got very few like that in the_vieux carre_, but up yonder in that beautiful garden diztric' of the_nouveau quartier_ are many, where we'll perchanze go to live some daypritty soon. That old 'ouse we're inhabiting here, tha'z--like us, ha,ha!--a pritty antique. Tha'z mo' suit' for a _relique_ than to livein, especially for Tantine--ha, ha!--tha'z auntie, yet tha'z what wecall our niece. Aline--juz' in _plaisanterie_!--biccause she take' somuch mo' care of us than us of her."

  Mrs. Chester had stopped to look around her. "Whenever you move," shesaid, "you'll have to leave this delightful little garden behind; itwon't fit out of these quaint surroundings."

  "Ah! We won't want that any mo'!"

  They pressed on. "That 'ouse acrozz street," said Mme. De l'Isle, "Inotiz there the usual sign."

  "Ah, yes, yes! 'For Sale or Rent'; tha'z what always predominate' inthat poor _vieux carre_. But here is my sizter. Corinne, Mrs.Chezter, the mother of Mr. Chezter--as you see by the _image_ of him inthe face! I can have the boldnezz to say that, madame, biccause neverin my life I di'n' see a young man so 'andsome like yo' son!"

  The mother blushed--a lifelong failing. "At home," she said, "he'scalled his father's double."

  "Is that possible? But tha'z the way with people. Some people theyfind Aline the _image_ of Corinne, and some of me. Yet Corinne andme--look!"

  The four went in--to the usual entertainment: the solid plank walls,the fine absence of lath and plaster, Aline's "li'l' robe of baptism,"and the bridegroom and bride who had gone a lifetime without a changeof linen. They passed out into the rear garden and told wonderfulstories of those gifted little darlings the goldfish. Hector,unfortunately absent, had a mouth-organ, to whose strains the fisheswould listen so motionless that you could see they were spellbound.Yvonne ran back into the house to get it, but for some cause returnedwith nerves so shaken that the fishes would do nothing but run wildlyto and fro. Still, that was just as startling proof of their amazingwhatever-it-was!

  Seats were not taken in the bower. The declining sun filled it. Mrs.Chester moved fondly from one flower-bed to another, and while thesisters eagerly filled her hands with their choicest bloom Yvonneprivately got a disturbed glance to Corinne that drew the four indoorsagain. There the outside quaintness tempted Mrs. Chester at once to afront window, with Mlle. Yvonne at her side.

  The front garden was not as the visitor had seen it shortly beforewhile entering. She turned silently away, while mademoiselle, asthough surprised, cried to her sister and Mme. De l'Isle: "Ah! Alineshe's arrive'! Mrs. Chezter, 'ow tha'z fortunate for us all!"

  So with the other three Mrs. Chester looked out again. Half-way up thewalk stood Aline. Her back was to the house. Cupid was just insidethe gate, and between them, closely confronting her, was a thirdfigure--Geoffry Chester. The indoor company could see his face, butnot its mood, so dazzling was the low sun behind him; but certainly itwas not gay. Her hand lay in his through some parting speech, but fellfrom it as both returned toward the gate. Which Cupid opened--sadirony--for Chester, and while the child locked him out Aline cameforward wrapped in sunlight.

  By steps, as she came, her beauty of form, face, and soul grew on Mrs.Chester's sight, and when, in the house, with her sunset halo quenchedand her presence more perfectly humanized, her smile and voice crownedthe revelation, it happened as Geoffry had said it would; the mother'sheart went out to her in fond and complete acceptance.

  To the four women taking seats with her the laying of a graceful hatoff her dark hair was the dissolving of one lovely picture into anotherunmarred by the fact that a letter which she held in her fingers wasthe publishers' latest word to C
hester. But now, as her own silentgaze fell on it held in her lap in both hands, so did theirs, till herfingers shook and she bit her lip. Then--"Never mind to read it,chere," Mme. De l'Isle said, "juz' tell us. We are prepare' for theworz'. They want to poz'pone the pewblication, or they don't want topay in advanz'?"

  Aline lifted so bright a smile through her tears that every heart grewlighter. "They don't want it at all," she said. "They have sent itback!"

  "Oh-h-h! Impossible!" exclaimed the two sisters, their eyes filling."The clerk he's put the wrong letter--letter for another party!"

  Aline smiled again. "No; Mr. Chester, he has the manuscript. Ah, youpoor"--again she smiled, biting her lip and wiping her tears. Then sheturned, looked steadfastly into Mrs. Chester's face, and suddenlyhanded her the missive. "Read it out."

  Mrs. Chester did so. As history, it said, the paper's interest was toomerely encyclopaedic for magazine use, while as romance it was too mucha story of peoples, not persons; romantic yet not romance. As to bookform the same drawbacks held, besides the fact that there was notenough of it, not one-fifth enough, for even a small book.

  When the reader would have handed the letter back it was agreed insteadthat she should give it to her son. "What does he purpose to do?" sheinquired. "This is the judgment of but one publisher, and thereare----"

  "In the North," Mme. De l'Isle broke in, "they got mo' than a dozenpewblisher'!"

  "Whiles one," the sisters pleaded, "tha'z all we require!"

  "I know that," said Aline to the four. "'Twas of that we were speakingat the gate. But"--to Mrs. Chester--"that judgment of the onepublisher is become our judgment also. So this evening he will bringyou the manuscript, and in two or three days, when we come to see you,my two aunt' and me--I, you can give it me."

  "May I read it? I've been to Ovide's and read 'The Clock in the Sky.'"

  "Yes? Well, if later we have the good, chance to find, in our _vieuxcarre_, we and our _coterie_, and Ovide, some more stories, trueromances, we'll maybe try again; but till then--ah, no."

  Mrs. Chester touched the girl caressingly. "My dear, you will! Everyhouse looks as if it could tell at least one, including that largehouse and garden just over the way."

  "Ah," chanted Mlle. Yvonne, "how many time' Corinne and me, we want' tolive there and furnizh, ourseff, that romanz'!"

  The five rose. Mrs. Chester "would be delighted to have the threeChapdelaines call. I'm leaving the hotel, you know; I've taken a roomnext Geoffry's. But that's nearer you, is it not?"

  "A li'l', yes," the sisters replied, but Aline's smiling silence said:"No, a little farther off."

  The aunts thanked Mme. De l'Isle for bringing Mrs. Chester and kissedher cheeks. They walked beside her to the gate, led by Cupid with thekey, and by Marie Madeleine crooking the end of her tail like afloor-walker's finger. Mrs. Chester and Aline came last. The sistersventured out to the sidewalk to finish an apology for a significantfault in Marie Madeleine's figure, and Mrs. Chester and Aline foundthemselves alone.

  "Au revoir," they said, clasping hands. Cupid, under a suddeninspiration, half-closed the gate, the pair stood an eloquent momentgazing eye to eye, and then----

  What happened the mother told her son that evening as they sat alone ona moonlit veranda.

  "Mother!"

  "Yes," she said, "and on the lips."

  XLIX

  Beginning at dawn, an all-day rain rested the travel-wearied lady. Butthe night cleared and in the forenoon that followed she shopped--forthings, she wrote her husband, not to be found elsewhere in theforty-eight States.

  The afternoon she gave to two or three callers, notably to Mrs.Thorndyke-Smith, who was very pleasing every way, but in nothing morethan in her praises of the Royal Street coterie. Next morning, in ahired car, she had Castanado and Mme. Dubroca, Beloiseau and Mme.Alexandre, not merely show but, as the ironworker said, pinchingforefinger and thumb together in the air, "elucidate" to her, forhours, the _vieux carre_. The day's latter half brought Mlles. Corinneand Yvonne; but Aline--no.

  "She was coming till the laz' moment," the pair said, "and then she'sso bewzy she 'ave to sen' us word, by 'Ector, 'tis impossib' tocome--till maybe later. Go h-on, juz' we two."

  They sat and talked, and rose and talked, and--sweetlyimportuned--resumed seats and talked, of infant days and the old NewOrleans they loved so well, unembarrassed by a maze of innocentanachronisms, and growingly sure that Aline would come.

  When at sunset they took leave Mrs. Chester, to their delight, followedto the sidewalk, drifted on by a corner or two, and even turned upRampart Street, though without saying that it was by Rampart Street herson daily came--walked--from his office. It had two paved ways forgeneral traffic, with a broad space between, where once, the sistersexplained, had been the rampart's moat but now ran the electric cars!"You know what that is, rampart? Tha'z in the 'Star-Spangle' Banner'ab-oud that. And this high wall where we're passing, tha'z theCarmelite convent, and--ah! ad the last! Aline! Aline!" Also therewas Cupid.

  The four encountered gayly. "Ah, not this time," Aline said. "I cameonly to meet my aunts; they had locked the gate! But I _will_ call,very soon."

  They walked up to the next corner, the sisters confusingly instructingMrs. Chester how to take a returning street-car. Leaving them, she hadjust got safely across from sidewalk to car-track when Cupid camepattering after, to bid her hail only the car marked "Esplanade Belt."

  As he backed off--"Take care!" was the cry, but he sprang the wrong wayand a hurrying jitney cast him yards distant, where he lay unconsciousand bleeding. The packed street-car emptied.

  "No, he's alive," said one who lifted him, to the two jitneypassengers, who pushed into the throng. "Arm broke', yes, but he'shurt worst in the head."

  There was an apothecary's shop in sight. They put him and the fourladies into the jitney and sent them there, and the world moved on.

  At the shop he came to, and presently, in the jitney again, he wasblissfully aware of Geoffry Chester on the swift running-board,questioning his mother and Aline by turns. He listened with all hismight. Neither the child nor his mistress had seen or heard thequestioner since the afternoon he was locked out of the garden.

  Nearing that garden now, questions and answers suddenly ceased; thechild had spoken. Limp and motionless, with his head on Aline's bosomand his eyes closed, "Don't let," he brokenly said, "don't let _him_ go'way."

  To him the answer seemed so long coming that he began to repeat; thenAline said----

  "No, dear, he shan't leave you."

  The sisters had telephoned their own physician from the apothecary'sshop, and soon, with Cupid on his cot, pushed close to a cool windowlooking into the rear garden, and the garden lighted by an unseen moon,Mrs. Chester, at the cot's side awaited the doctor's arrival. Therestless sisters brought her a tray of rusks and butter and tea, thoughthey would not, could not, taste anything themselves until they shouldknow how gravely the small sufferer--for now he began to suffer--washurt.

  "Same time tha'z good to be induztriouz"--this was all said directlyabove the moaning child--"while tha'z bad, for the sick, to talk ad thebedside, and we can't stay with you and not talk, and we can't go inthat front yard; that gate is let open so the doctor he needn' ring andthat way excide the patient; and we can't go in the back garden"--theyspread their hands and dropped them; the back garden was hopelesslypre-empted.

  They went to a parlor window and sat looking and longing for the frontgate to swing. They had posted on it in Corinne's minute writing: "Noadmittance excep on business. Open on account sickness. S. V. P.Don't wring the belle!!!"

  Cupid lay very flat on his back, his face turned to the open window.He had ceased to moan. When Mrs. Chester stole to where, by leaningover, she could see his eyes they were closed. She hoped he slept, butsat down in uncertainty rather than risk waking him. In the moonlitgarden Aline and Geoffry paced to and fro. To see them his motherwould have to stand and lean over the cot, and nei
ther good mothers norgood nurses do that. She kept her seat, anxiously hoping that themoonlight out there would remain soft enough to veil the worn lookwhich daylight betrayed on her son's face whenever he fell into silence.

  The talk of the pair was labored. Once they went clear to the bowerand turned, without a word. Then Geoffry said: "I know a story I'dlike to tell you, though how it would help us in our project--if we nowhave a project at all--I don't see."

  "'Tis of the _vieux carre_, that story?"

  "It's of the _vieux carre_ of the world's heart."

  "I think I know it."

  "May I not tell it?"

  "Yes, you may tell it--although--yes, tell it."

  "Well, there was once a beautiful girl, as beautiful in soul as incountenance, and worshipped by a few excellent friends, few onlybecause of conditions in her life that almost wholly exiled her fromsociety. Even so, she had suitors--good, gallant men; not of wealth,yet with good prospects and with gifts more essential. But otherconditions seemed, to her, to forbid marriage."

  "Yes," Aline interrupted. "Mr. Chester, have you gone in partnershipwith Mr. Castanado--'Masques et Costumes'? Or would it not be maybebetter honor to me--and yourself--to speak----"

  "Straight out? Yes, of course. Aline, I've been racking my brain--Istill am--and my heart--to divine what it is that separates us. I hadcome to believe you loved me. I can't quite stifle the conviction yet.I believe that in refusing me you're consciously refusing that whichseems to you yourself a worthy source of supreme happiness if it didnot threaten the happiness of others dearer than your own."