Casey's views were commercial, and New Orleans was not the place where a
display of spirit would be likely to damage his prospects. It appeared
rather to have an opposite effect; for, before his arm was well out of
the sling, I had the gratification to learn that he had received an
appointment in one of the large cotton commission houses--a calling
sufficiently suited to his temperament.
My own object in visiting the Western World was less definite. I was of
that age when travel is attractive--young enough to afford a few years
of _far niente_ before entering upon the more serious pursuits of life.
In short, I had no object beyond idleness and sight-seeing; and in
either way, a month or two may be passed in New Orleans without much
danger of suffering from _ennui_.
My stay in the "Crescent City" extended to a period of full three
months. A pleasant hospitality induced me to prolong it beyond what I
had originally intended: and the dispenser of this hospitality was no
other than Monsieur Luis De Hauteroche.
Notwithstanding the _bizarrerie_ of its beginning, our acquaintance soon
grew into friendship; for the southern heart is of free and quick
expansion, as the flowers of its clime, and its affection as rapidly
ripens. There the friendship of a single month is often as strong--ay,
and as lasting too--as that which results from years of intercourse
under the cold ceremonies of old world life.
In a month De Hauteroche and I were bosom friends; and scarcely a day
passed that we did not see each other, scarcely three that we were not
companions in some boating or hunting excursion--some _fete champetre_
among his Creole acquaintances, the hospitable planters of the
"coast,"--at the _bal-masque_, or in the boxes of the "Theatre
Francais."
In the morning hours I often visited him at his place of business--for
business he did not altogether neglect--in the Rue Royale; but more
frequently in the evening at his private residence--the pretty little
"cabane," as he called it, with its glass door windows and vine-loaded
verandahs, in the adjoining street of the Rue Bourgogne.
This charming spot had a peculiar attraction for me. Was it the company
of De Hauteroche himself or that of Adele, his fair sister, that drew me
so often thither? It must have been one or the other--for excepting the
dark-skinned domestics, the two were the only inmates of the house. I
relished much the conversation of my young Creole friend--perhaps still
more, the music which his sister understood how to produce upon her harp
and guitar. Especially did the notes of the harp vibrate pleasantly
upon my ear; and the picture of a fair maiden seated in front of that
noble stringed instrument, soon impressed itself on my spirit, whether
awake or dreaming. Adele became the vision of my dreams.
Without designing it, I soon became acquainted with the family history
of my new friends. It was but the natural consequence of the
confidential intercourse that had sprung up between us.
They were the orphan children of an officer of the Napoleonic army--an
_ancien-colonel_ of artillery--who, after the defeat of Waterloo,
surrendered up his sword and sought an asylum in the Far West. He was
but one of many, who, at that time, deprived of the patronage of their
great leader, became _emigres_ by a sort of voluntary exile, finding in
the French settlements of the New World--Louisiana among the rest--a
kindred and congenial home.
In the case of Hauteroche, however, the habits of the military man had
not fitted him either for a commercial life or that of a planter. His
affairs had not prospered--and at his death, which had occurred but the
year before--he had left his children little other inheritance than that
of an excellent education and a spotless name.
Far otherwise had it been with a comrade who accompanied him in his
exile--a brother officer of his regiment and a devoted bosom friend.
The latter preferring the cooler climate of Saint Louis, had gone up the
river and settled there.
He was a Norman, and his young wife had accompanied him. With the
stauncher qualities of this race, he had devoted himself to commercial
pursuits; and his perseverance was rewarded by the acquirement of an
ample fortune--which, with his wife--also of Norman family--and an only
daughter, he was now enjoying in opulent retirement.
The almost fraternal friendship of the two ex-officers was not
extinguished by their altered mode of life; but, on the contrary, it
continued as warm as ever during the period of their residence in the
New World. Annually the "crate" of oranges from the south was sent up
to Saint Louis, and as often was the barrel of apples or walnuts--the
produce of the more temperate clime--despatched in the opposite
direction--a pleasant interchange of presents effected by the medium of
the mighty Mississippi.
A personal intercourse, too, was at intervals renewed. Every two or
three years the old colonel had indulged himself with a ramble on the
prairies which lie contiguous to the settlements of Saint Louis, while
his brother officer, at like intervals, reciprocated the visit by a trip
to the great southern metropolis, thus in a very convenient manner
combining the opportunities of business and pleasure.
Under these circumstances it was natural that the families of De
Hauteroche and Dardonville should be affectionately attached to each
other, and such was in reality the case. I was constantly hearing of
the latter--of the goodness of Madame Dardonville--of the beauty of
Olympe.
It was nearly three years since either De Hauteroche or his sister had
seen their Saint Louis friends. Olympe, as was alleged, was then but a
child; but the fervour with which the young avocat descanted upon her
merits, led me to suspect that in his eyes at least, she had reached a
very interesting period of her childhood. Now and then the merry
badinage of his sister on this point, bringing the colour to his cheeks,
confirmed me in the suspicion.
My new acquaintances had admitted me as a link into the chain of their
happy circle; and for three months I enjoyed, almost without
interruption, its pleasant hospitality.
It became a spell that was hard to break; and when the hour of
leave-taking arrived, I looked upon it as a painful necessity--though my
absence did not promise to be a prolonged one.
The necessity was one of sufficient urgency. A July sun was glaring
from the sky, and the yellow spectre had entered the Crescent City, upon
its annual visit of devastation.
Already had it begun its ghastly work, and here and there presented
itself in horrid mien. In those Faubourgs where dwelt the less opulent
of the population, I observed traces of its presence; that symbol of
terrible significance--the red cross upon the closed door--telling too
plainly that the destroyer had been there.
It would have been madness for me to have remained amidst a pestilence,
from which it was so easy to escape. Twenty hours upon a fast boat, and
I should be clear of the danger: and among the up-river towns I might
make choice of an asylum.
Four large cities--Pittsburg, Louisville, Cincinatti, and Saint Louis--
lay beyond the latitude of the epidemic: all easy of access. In any of
these I might find a luxurious home; but I longed to look upon those
boundless fields of green, for years the idol of my youthful fancy; and
I knew that Saint Louis was the gate that guided to them. Thither,
then, was I bound.
With regret I parted from my Creole friends. They had no need to fly or
fear the scourge. Acclimatised in the middle of that vast _marais_, its
malaria had for them neither terror nor danger. Immunity from both was
their birthright, and New Orleans was their home throughout the year:
though during the months of intolerable heat and utter stagnation of
business, it was their habit to reside in one of the numerous summer
retreats found upon the shores of Lake Pontchartrain.
I was in hopes they would have accompanied me to Saint Louis, and I
endeavoured to induce them to do so.
Luis seemed desirous, and yet declined! I knew not the delicate reason
that influenced him to this self-denial.
I promised to return with the first frost; for this usually kills
"Yellow Jack."
"Ah! you will not be here so soon?" said Adele, in a tone that pretended
to be pensive. "You will like Saint Louis too well to leave it.
Perhaps when you have seen Olympe--"
"And what of Olympe?"
"She is beautiful--she is rich--"
"Those are qualities that more concern your brother; and if I should
make love to Olympe, it will only be as his proxy."
"Ha! ha! a perilous prospect for poor Luis!"
"Oh, no! Luis need fear no rival; but, jesting apart, I should be glad
to enter into a little covenant with him."
"A covenant?"
"Yes--the terms of which would be, that in Saint Louis I should use all
my interest in his favour, while he should here reciprocate, by
employing his in mine."
"In what quarter, Monsieur?"
"Here, _at home_."
Adele's dark brown eyes rolled upon me a moment, as if in innocent
astonishment; and then, suddenly changing their expression, they danced
and sparkled to a peal of merry laughter, which ended in the
words:--"_Au revoir! la premiere gelee, adieu! adieu_!" Luis was
outside, waiting to accompany me to the boat; and, returning the adieu
somewhat confusedly, I hurried up the steps of the verandah, and joined
him.
In another hour I was upon the broad bosom of the "Father of Waters,"
breasting his mighty current towards its far distant source.
Story 2, Chapter VIII.