CHAPTER LVII
VOUDOU CURED
"Honore," said Agricola, faintly, "where is Honore!"
"He has been sent for," said Doctor Keene and the two ladies in abreath.
Raoul, bearing the word concerning Clemence, and the later messengersummoning him to Agricola's bedside, reached Honore within a minute ofeach other. His instructions were quickly given, for Raoul to take hishorse and ride down to the family mansion, to break gently to his motherthe news of Agricola's disaster, and to say to his kinsmen withimperative emphasis, not to touch the _marchande des calas_ till heshould come. Then he hurried to the rue Royale.
But when Raoul arrived at the mansion he saw at a glance that the newshad outrun him. The family carriage was already coming round the bottomof the front stairs for three Mesdames Grandissime and Madame Martinez.The children on all sides had dropped their play, and stood about,hushed and staring. The servants moved with quiet rapidity. In the hallhe was stopped by two beautiful girls.
"Raoul! Oh, Raoul, how is he now? Oh! Raoul, if you could only stopthem! They have taken old Clemence down into the swamp--as soon as theyheard about Agricole--Oh, Raoul, surely that would be cruel! She nursedme--and me--when we were babies!"
"Where is Agamemnon?"
"Gone to the city."
"What did he say about it?"
"He said they were doing wrong, that he did not approve their action,and that they would get themselves into trouble: that he washed hishands of it."
"Ah-h-h!" exclaimed Raoul, "wash his hands! Oh, yes, wash his hands?Suppose we all wash our hands? But where is Valentine? Where is CharlieMandarin?"
"Ah! Valentine is gone with Agamemnon, saying the same thing, andCharlie Mandarin is down in the swamp, the worst of all of them!"
"But why did you let Agamemnon and Valentine go off that way, you?"
"Ah! listen to Raoul! What can a woman do?"
"What can a woman--Well, even if I was a woman, I would do something!"
He hurried from the house, leaped into the saddle and galloped acrossthe fields toward the forest.
Some rods within the edge of the swamp, which, at this season, wasquite dry in many places, on a spot where the fallen dead bodies oftrees overlay one another and a dense growth of willows and vines anddwarf palmetto shut out the light of the open fields, the younger andsome of the harsher senior members of the Grandissime family weresitting or standing about, in an irregular circle whose centre was a bigand singularly misshapen water-willow. At the base of this tree satClemence, motionless and silent, a wan, sickly color in her face, andthat vacant look in her large, white-balled, brown-veined eyes, withwhich hope-forsaken cowardice waits for death. Somewhat apart from therest, on an old cypress stump, half-stood, half-sat, in whisperedconsultation, Jean-Baptiste Grandissime and Charlie Mandarin.
"_Eh bien_, old woman," said Mandarin, turning, without rising, andspeaking sharply in the negro French, "have you any reason to give whyyou should not be hung to that limb over your head?"
She lifted her eyes slowly to his, and made a feeble gesture ofdeprecation.
"_Mo te pas fe cette bras_, Mawse Challie--I di'n't mek dat ahm; no'ndeed I di'n', Mawse Challie. I ain' wuth hangin', gen'lemen; you'doughteh jis gimme fawty an' lemme go. I--I--I--I di'n' 'ten' no hawm toMawse-Agricole; I wa'n't gwan to hu't nobody in God's worl'; 'ndeed Iwasn'. I done tote dat old case-knife fo' twenty year'--_mo po'te cadipi vingt ans_. I'm a po' ole _marchande des calas; mo courri_ 'mongs'de sojer boys to sell my cakes, you know, and da's de onyest reason whyI cyah dat ah ole fool knife." She seemed to take some hope from thesilence with which they heard her. Her eye brightened and her voice tooka tone of excitement. "You'd oughteh tek me and put me in calaboose, an'let de law tek 'is co'se. You's all nice gen'lemen--werry nicegen'lemen, an' you sorter owes it to yo'sev's fo' to not do no sichnasty wuck as hangin' a po' ole nigga wench; 'deed you does. 'Tain' nouse to hang me; you gwan to kyetch Palmyre yit; _li courri dans marais;_she is in de swamp yeh, sum'ers; but as concernin' me, you'd oughteh jisgimme fawty an lemme go. You mus'n't b'lieve all dis-yeh nonsense 'boutinsurrectionin'; all fool-nigga talk. W'at we want to be insurrectionin'faw? We de happies' people in de God's worl'!" She gave a start, andcast a furtive glance of alarm behind her. "Yes, we is; you jis' oughtehgimme fawty an' lemme go! Please, gen'lemen! God'll be good to you, younice, sweet gen'lemen!"
Charlie Mandarin made a sign to one who stood at her back, who respondedby dropping a rawhide noose over her head. She bounded up with a cry ofterror; it may be that she had all along hoped that all wasmake-believe. She caught the noose wildly with both hands and tried tolift it over her head.
"Ah! no, mawsteh, you cyan' do dat! It's ag'in' de law! I's 'bleeged tohave my trial, yit. Oh, no, no! Oh, good God, no! Even if I is a nigga!You cyan' jis' murdeh me hyeh in de woods! _Mo dis la zize_! I tell dejudge on you! You ain' got no mo' biznis to do me so 'an if I was awhite 'oman! You dassent tek a white 'oman out'n de Pa'sh Pris'n an' do'er so! Oh, sweet mawsteh, fo' de love o' God! Oh, Mawse Challie, _pou'l'amou' du bon Dieu n'fe pas ca_! Oh, Mawse 'Polyte, is you gwan to let'em kill ole Clemence? Oh, fo' de mussy o' Jesus Christ, Mawse 'Polyte,leas' of all, _you_! You dassent help to kill me, Mawse 'Polyte! Youknows why! Oh God, Mawse 'Polyte, you knows why! Leas' of all you, Mawse'Polyte! Oh, God 'a' mussy on my wicked ole soul! I aint fitt'n to die!Oh, gen'lemen, I kyan' look God in de face! _Oh, Miches, ayez pitie demoin! Oh, God A'mighty ha' mussy on my soul_! Oh, gen'lemen, dough yo'kinfolks kyvvah up yo' tricks now, dey'll dwap f'um undeh you some day!_Sole leve la, li couche la_! Yo' tu'n will come! Oh, God A'mighty! deGod o' de po' nigga wench! Look down, oh God, look down an' stop dis yehfoolishness! Oh, God, fo' de love o' Jesus! _Oh, Miches, y'en a einzizement_! Oh, yes, deh's a judgmen' day! Den it wont be a bit o' use toyou to be white! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, fo', fo', fo', de, de, _love 0'God! Oh_!"
They drew her up.
Raoul was not far off. He heard the woman's last cry, and came threshingthrough the bushes on foot. He saw Sylvestre, unconscious of anyapproach, spring forward, jerk away the hands that had drawn the thongover the branch, let the strangling woman down and loosen the noose. Hereyes, starting out with horror, turned to him; she fell on her knees andclasped her hands. The tears were rolling down Sylvestre's face.
"My friends, we must not do this! You _shall_ not do it!"
He hurled away, with twice his natural strength, one who put out a hand.
"No, sirs!" cried Raoul, "you shall not do it! I come from Honore! Touchher who dares!"
He drew a weapon.
"Monsieur Innerarity," said 'Polyte, "_who is_ Monsieur HonoreGrandissime? There are two of the name, you know,--partners--brothers.Which of--but it makes no difference; before either of them sees thisassassin she is going to be a lump of nothing!"
The next word astonished every one. It was Charlie Mandarin who spoke.
"Let her go!"
"Let her go!" said Jean-Baptiste Grandissime; "give her a run for life.Old woman, rise up. We propose to let you go. Can you run? Never mind,we shall see. Achille, put her upon her feet. Now, old woman, run!"
She walked rapidly, but with unsteady feet, toward the fields.
"Run! If you don't run I will shoot you this minute!"
She ran.
"Faster!"
She ran faster.
"Run!"
"Run!"
"Run, Clemence! Ha, ha, ha!" It was so funny to see her scuttling andtripping and stumbling. "_Courri! courri, Clemence! c'est pou to' vie!_ha, ha, ha--"
A pistol-shot rang out close behind Raoul's ear; it was never told whofired it. The negress leaped into the air and fell at full length to theground, stone dead.
The Grandissimes Page 58