CHAPTER VI
LOST OPPORTUNITIES
The little doctor tipped his chair back against the wall, drew up hisknees, and laughed whimperingly in his freckled hands.
"I had to do some prodigious lying at that ball. I didn't dare let theDe Grapion ladies know they were in company with a Grandissime."
"I thought you said their name was Nancanou."
"Well, certainly--De Grapion-Nancanou. You see, that is one of theircharms: one is a widow, the other is her daughter, and both as young andbeautiful as Hebe. Ask Honore Grandissime; he has seen the little widow;but then he don't know who she is. He will not ask me, and I will nottell him. Oh, yes; it is about eighteen years now since old DeGrapion--elegant, high-stepping old fellow--married her, then onlysixteen years of age, to young Nancanou, an indigo-planter on the FausseRiviere--the old bend, you know, behind Pointe Coupee. The young couplewent there to live. I have been told they had one of the prettiestplaces in Louisiana. He was a man of cultivated tastes, educated inParis, spoke English, was handsome (convivial, of course), and ofperfectly pure blood. But there was one thing old De Grapion overlooked:he and his son-in-law were the last of their names. In Louisiana a manneeds kinsfolk. He ought to have married his daughter into a stronghouse. They say that Numa Grandissime (Honore's father) and he hadpatched up a peace between the two families that included even oldAgricola, and that he could have married her to a Grandissime. However,he is supposed to have known what he was about.
"A matter of business called young Nancanou to New Orleans. He had nofriends here; he was a Creole, but what part of his life had not beenspent on his plantation he had passed in Europe. He could not leave hisyoung girl of a wife alone in that exiled sort of plantation life, so hebrought her and the child (a girl) down with him as far as to herfather's place, left them there, and came on to the city alone.
"Now, what does the old man do but give him a letter of introduction toold Agricole Fusilier! (His name is Agricola, but we shorten it toAgricole.) It seems that old De Grapion and Agricole had had theindiscretion to scrape up a mutually complimentary correspondence. Andto Agricole the young man went.
"They became intimate at once, drank together, danced with the quadroonstogether, and got into as much mischief in three days as I ever did in afortnight. So affairs went on until by and by they were gamblingtogether. One night they were at the Piety Club, playing hard, and theplanter lost his last quarti. He became desperate, and did a thing Ihave known more than one planter to do: wrote his pledge for everyarpent of his land and every slave on it, and staked that. Agricolerefused to play. 'You shall play,' said Nancanou, and when the game wasended he said: 'Monsieur Agricola Fusilier, you cheated.' You see? Justas I have frequently been tempted to remark to my friend, Mr.Frowenfeld.
"But, Frowenfeld, you must know, withal the Creoles are such gamblers,they never cheat; they play absolutely fair. So Agricole had tochallenge the planter. He could not be blamed for that; there was nochoice--oh, now, Frowenfeld, keep quiet! I tell you there was no choice.And the fellow was no coward. He sent Agricole a clear title to the realestate and slaves,--lacking only the wife's signature,--accepted thechallenge and fell dead at the first fire.
"Stop, now, and let me finish. Agricole sat down and wrote to the widowthat he did not wish to deprive her of her home, and that if she wouldstate in writing her belief that the stakes had been won fairly, hewould give back the whole estate, slaves and all; but that if she wouldnot, he should feel compelled to retain it in vindication of his honor.Now wasn't that drawing a fine point?" The doctor laughed according tohis habit, with his face down in his hands. "You see, he wanted tostand before all creation--the Creator did not make so muchdifference--in the most exquisitely proper light; so he puts the laws ofhumanity under his feet, and anoints himself from head to foot withCreole punctilio."
"Did she sign the paper?" asked Joseph.
"She? Wait till you know her! No, indeed; she had the true scorn. Sheand her father sent down another and a better title. Creole-like, theymanaged to bestir themselves to that extent and there they stopped.
"And the airs with which they did it! They kept all their rage tothemselves, and sent the polite word, that they were not acquainted withthe merits of the case, that they were not disposed to make the long andarduous trip to the city and back, and that if M. Fusilier deGrandissime thought he could find any pleasure or profit in owning theplace, he was welcome; that the widow of _his late friend_ was notdisposed to live on it, but would remain with her father at the paternalhome at Cannes Brulees.
"Did you ever hear of a more perfect specimen of Creole pride? That isthe way with all of them. Show me any Creole, or any number of Creoles,in any sort of contest, and right down at the foundation of it all, Iwill find you this same preposterous, apathetic, fantastic, suicidalpride. It is as lethargic and ferocious as an alligator. That is why theCreole almost always is (or thinks he is) on the defensive. See these DeGrapions' haughty good manners to old Agricole; yet there wasn't aGrandissime in Louisiana who could have set foot on the De Grapion landsbut at the risk of his life.
"But I will finish the story: and here is the really sad part. Not manymonths ago old De Grapion--'old,' said I; they don't grow old; I callhim old--a few months ago he died. He must have left everythingsmothered in debt; for, like his race, he had stuck to indigo becausehis father planted it, and it is a crop that has lost money steadily foryears and years. His daughter and granddaughter were left like babes inthe wood; and, to crown their disasters, have now made the grave mistakeof coming to the city, where they find they haven't a friend--not one,sir! They called me in to prescribe for a trivial indisposition, shortlyafter their arrival; and I tell you, Frowenfeld, it made me shiver tosee two such beautiful women in such a town as this without a maleprotector, and even"--the doctor lowered his voice--"without adequatesupport. The mother says they are perfectly comfortable; tells the oldcouple so who took them to the ball, and whose little girl is theirembroidery scholar; but you cannot believe a Creole on that subject, andI don't believe her. Would you like to make their acquaintance?"
Frowenfeld hesitated, disliking to say no to his friend, and then shookhis head.
"After a while--at least not now, sir, if you please."
The doctor made a gesture of disappointment.
"Um-hum," he said grumly--"the only man in New Orleans I would honorwith an invitation!--but all right; I'll go alone."
He laughed a little at himself, and left Frowenfeld, if ever he shoulddesire it, to make the acquaintance of his pretty neighbors as besthe could.
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