CHAPTER XLVIII
AN INDIGNANT FAMILY AND A SMASHED SHOP
It was indeed a fierce storm that had passed over the head of HonoreGrandissime. Taken up and carried by it, as it seemed to him, withoutvolition, he had felt himself thrown here and there, wrenched, torn,gasping for moral breath, speaking the right word as if in delirium,doing the right deed as if by helpless instinct, and seeing himself inevery case, at every turn, tricked by circumstance out of every vestigeof merit. So it seemed to him. The long contemplated restitution wasaccomplished. On the morning when Aurora and Clotilde had expected to beturned shelterless into the open air, they had called upon him in hisprivate office and presented the account of which he had put them inpossession the evening before. He had honored it on the spot. To the twoladies who felt their own hearts stirred almost to tears of gratitude,he was--as he sat before them calm, unmoved, handling keen-edged factswith the easy rapidity of one accustomed to use them, smilingcourteously and collectedly, parrying their expressions ofappreciation--to them, we say, at least to one of them, he was "theprince of gentlemen." But, at the same time, there was within him,unseen, a surge of emotions, leaping, lashing, whirling, yet everhurrying onward along the hidden, rugged bed of his honest intention.
The other restitution, which even twenty-four hours earlier might haveseemed a pure self-sacrifice, became a self-rescue. The f.m.c. was theelder brother. A remark of Honore made the night they watched in thecorridor by Doctor Keene's door, about the younger's "right to exist,"was but the echo of a conversation they had once had together inEurope. There they had practised a familiarity of intercourse whichLouisiana would not have endured, and once, when speaking upon thesubject of their common fatherhood, the f.m.c., prone to melancholyspeech, had said:
"You are the lawful son of Numa Grandissime; I had no right to be born."
But Honore quickly answered:
"By the laws of men, it may be; but by the law of God's justice, you arethe lawful son, and it is I who should not have been born."
But, returned to Louisiana, accepting with the amiable, old-fashionedphilosophy of conservatism the sins of the community, he had forgottenthe unchampioned rights of his passive half-brother. Contact withFrowenfeld had robbed him of his pleasant mental drowsiness, and theoft-encountered apparition of the dark sharer of his name had become aslow-stepping, silent embodiment of reproach. The turn of events hadbrought him face to face with the problem of restitution, and he hadsolved it. But where had he come out? He had come out the beneficiary ofthis restitution, extricated from bankruptcy by an agreement which gavethe f.m.c. only a public recognition of kinship which had always beenhis due. Bitter cup of humiliation!
Such was the stress within. Then there was the storm without. TheGrandissimes were in a high state of excitement. The news had reachedthem all that Honore had met the question of titles by selling one oftheir largest estates. It was received with wincing frowns, indrawnbreath, and lifted feet, but without protest, and presently with a smileof returning confidence.
"Honore knew; Honore was informed; they had all authorized Honore; andHonore, though he might have his odd ways and notions, picked up duringthat unfortunate stay abroad, might safely be trusted to stand by theinterests of his people."
After the first shock some of them even raised a laugh:
"Ha, ha, ha! Honore would show those Yankees!"
They went to his counting-room and elsewhere, in search of him, to smitetheir hands into the hands of their far-seeing young champion. But, aswe have seen, they did not find him; none dreamed of looking for him inan enemy's camp (19 Bienville) or on the lonely suburban commons,talking to himself in the ghostly twilight; and the next morning, whileAurora and Clotilde were seated before him in his private office,looking first at the face and then at the back of two mighty drafts ofequal amount on Philadelphia, the cry of treason flew forth to theseastounded Grandissimes, followed by the word that the sacred fire wasgone out in the Grandissime temple (counting-room), that Delilahs induplicate were carrying off the holy treasures, and that theuncircumcised and unclean--even an f.m.c.--was about to be inducted intothe Grandissime priesthood.
Aurora and Clotilde were still there, when the various members of thefamily began to arrive and display their outlines in impatientshadow-play upon the glass door of the private office; now one, and nowanother, dallied with the doorknob and by and by obtruded their liftedhats and urgent, anxious faces half into the apartment; but Honore wouldonly glance toward them, and with a smile equally courteous,authoritative and fleeting, say:
"Good-morning, Camille" (or Charlie--or Agamemnon, as the case mightbe); "I will see you later; let me trouble you to close the door."
To add yet another strain, the two ladies, like frightened, rescuedchildren, would cling to their deliverer. They wished him to become thecustodian and investor of their wealth. Ah, woman! who is a tempter likethee? But Honore said no, and showed them the danger of such a course.
"Suppose I should die suddenly. You might have trouble with myexecutors."
The two beauties assented pensively; but in Aurora's bosom a great throbsecretly responded that as for her, in that case, she should have no usefor money--in a nunnery.
"Would not Monsieur at least consent to be their financial adviser?"
He hemmed, commenced a sentence twice, and finally said:
"You will need an agent; some one to take full charge of your affairs;some person on whose sagacity and integrity you can place the fullestdependence."
"Who, for instance?" asked Aurora.
"I should say, without hesitation, Professor Frowenfeld, the apothecary.You know his trouble of yesterday is quite cleared up. You had notheard? Yes. He is not what we call an enterprising man, but--so much thebetter. Take him all in all, I would choose him above all others;if you--"
Aurora interrupted him. There was an ill-concealed wildness in her eyeand a slight tremor in her voice, as she spoke, which she had notexpected to betray. The quick, though quiet eye of Honore Grandissimesaw it, and it thrilled him through.
"'Sieur Grandissime, I take the risk; I wish you to take care of mymoney."
"But, Maman," said Clotilde, turning with a timid look to her mother,"If Monsieur Grandissime would rather not--"
Aurora, feeling alarmed at what she had said, rose up. Clotilde andHonore did the same, and he said:
"With Professor Frowenfeld in charge of your affairs, I shall feel themnot entirely removed from my care also. We are very good friends."
Clotilde looked at her mother. The three exchanged glances. The ladiessignified their assent and turned to go, but M. Grandissimestopped them.
"By your leave, I will send for him. If you will be seated again--"
They thanked him and resumed their seats; he excused himself, passedinto the counting-room, and sent a messenger for the apothecary.
M. Grandissime's meeting with his kinsmen was a stormy one. Aurora andClotilde heard the strife begin, increase, subside, rise again anddecrease. They heard men stride heavily to and fro, they heard handssmite together, palms fall upon tables and fists upon desks, heardhalf-understood statement and unintelligible counter-statement andderisive laughter; and, in the midst of all, like the voice of a man whorules himself, the clear-noted, unimpassioned speech of Honore, soundingso loftily beautiful in the ear of Aurora that when Clotilde looked ather, sitting motionless with her rapt eyes lifted up, those eyes camedown to her own with a sparkle of enthusiasm, and she softly said:
"It sounds like St. Gabriel!" and then blushed.
Clotilde answered with a happy, meaning look, which intensified theblush, and then leaning affectionately forward and holding the maman'seyes with her own, she said:
"You have my consent."
"Saucy!" said Aurora. "Wait till I get my own."
Some of his kinsmen Honore pacified; some he silenced. He invited all towithdraw their lands and moneys from his charge, and some accepted theinvitation. They spurned his parting advice to sell, and
the policy theythen adopted, and never afterward modified, was that "all or nothing"attitude which, as years rolled by, bled them to penury in those famouscupping-leeching-and-bleeding establishments, the courts of Louisiana.You may see their grandchildren, to-day, anywhere within the angle ofthe old rues Esplanade and Rampart, holding up their heads inunspeakable poverty, their nobility kept green by unflinchingself-respect, and their poetic and pathetic pride revelling inancestral, perennial rebellion against common sense.
"That is Agricola," whispered Aurora, with lifted head and eyes dilatedand askance, as one deep-chested voice roared above all others.
Agricola stormed.
"Uncle," Aurora by and by heard Honore say, "shall I leave my owncounting-room?"
At that moment Joseph Frowenfeld entered, pausing with one hand on theouter rail. No one noticed him but Honore, who was watching for him, andwho, by a silent motion, directed him into the private office.
"H-whe shake its dust from our feet!" said Agricola, gathering someyoung retainers by a sweep of his glance and going out down the stair inthe arched way, unmoved by the fragrance of warm bread. On the banquettehe harangued his followers.
He said that in such times as these every lover of liberty should goarmed; that the age of trickery had come; that by trickery Louisianianshad been sold, like cattle, to a nation of parvenues, to be draggedbefore juries for asserting the human right of free trade or ridding theearth of sneaks in the pay of the government; that laws, so-called, hadbeen forged into thumbscrews, and a Congress which had bound itself togive them all the rights of American citizens--sorry boon!--waspreparing to slip their birthright acres from under their feet, andleave them hanging, a bait to the vultures of the Americain immigration.Yes; the age of trickery! Its apostles, he said, were even then at workamong their fellow-citizens, warping, distorting, blasting, corrupting,poisoning the noble, unsuspecting, confiding Creole mind. For months thedevilish work had been allowed, by a patient, peace-loving people, to goon. But shall it go on forever? (Cries of "No!" "No!") The smell ofwhite blood comes on the south breeze. Dessalines and Christophe hadrecommenced their hellish work. Virginia, too, trembles for the safetyof her fair mothers and daughters. We know not what is being plotted inthe canebrakes of Louisiana. But we know that in the face of thesethings the prelates of trickery are sitting in Washington allowingthroats to go unthrottled that talked tenderly about the "negro slave;"we know worse: we know that mixed blood has asked for equal rights froma son of the Louisiana noblesse, and that those sacred rights have beentreacherously, pusillanimously surrendered into its possession. Why didwe not rise yesterday, when the public heart was stirred? Theforbearance of this people would be absurd if it were not saintly. Butthe time has, come when Louisiana must protect herself! If there is onehere who will not strike for his lands, his rights and the purity of hisrace, let him speak! (Cries of "We will rise now!" "Give us a leader!""Lead the way!")
"Kinsmen, friends," continued Agricola, "meet me at nightfall before thehouse of this too-long-spared mulatto. Come armed. Bring a few feet ofstout rope. By morning the gentlemen of color will know their placesbetter than they do to-day; h-whe shall understand each other! H-wheshall set the negrophiles to meditating."
He waved them away.
With a huzza the accumulated crowd moved off. Chance carried them up therue Royale; they sang a song; they came to Frowenfeld's. It was anAmericain establishment; that was against it. It was a gossiping placeof Americain evening loungers; that was against it. It was a sorcerer'sden--(we are on an ascending scale); its proprietor had refusedemployment to some there present, had refused credit to others, was animpudent condemner of the most approved Creole sins, had been beatenover the head only the day before; all these were against it. But, worsestill, the building was owned by the f.m.c., and unluckiest of all,Raoul stood in the door and some of his kinsmen in the crowd stopped tohave a word with him. The crowd stopped. A nameless fellow in thethrong--he was still singing--said: "Here's the place," and dropped twobricks through the glass of the show-window. Raoul, with a cry ofretaliative rage, drew and lifted a pistol; but a kinsman jerked itfrom him and three others quickly pinioned him and bore him offstruggling, pleased to get him away unhurt. In ten minutes, Frowenfeld'swas a broken-windowed, open-doored house, full of unrecognizable rubbishthat had escaped the torch only through a chance rumor that theGovernor's police were coming, and the consequent stampede of the mob.
Joseph was sitting in M. Grandissime's private office, in council withhim and the ladies, and Aurora was just saying:
"Well, anny'ow, 'Sieur Frowenfel', ad laz you consen'!" and gatheringher veil from her lap, when Raoul burst in, all sweat and rage.
"'Sieur Frowenfel', we ruin'! Ow pharmacie knock all in pieces! Mypigshoe is los'!"
He dropped into a chair and burst into tears.
Shall we never learn to withhold our tears until we are sure of ourtrouble? Raoul little knew the joy in store for him. 'Polyte, ittranspired the next day, had rushed in after the first volley ofmissiles, and while others were gleefully making off with jars ofasafoetida and decanters of distilled water, lifted in his arms and boreaway unharmed "Louisiana" firmly refusing to the last to enter theUnion. It may not be premature to add that about four weeks later HonoreGrandissime, upon Raoul's announcement that he was "betrothed,"purchased this painting and presented it to a club of _naturalconnoisseurs_.
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