Soon after my arrival in Saint Louis, I called upon the Dardonvilles,
and presented my letter of introduction. It was a sealed document, and
I knew not the nature of its contents; but from the effect produced I
must have been the bearer of strong credentials. It placed me at once
on a footing of intimacy with the friends of my friends.
The family did not reside in town, but at the distance of a mile or so
from it. Their villa stood upon a high bluff of the river, commanding a
view of the broad noble stream, and beyond the wooded lowlands of
Illinois, stretching like a sea of bluish green to the far eastern
horizon.
Nothing could exceed the attractions of this transatlantic home; and the
many visitors whom I met there, proved that they were appreciated.
Dardonville, now rich, had retired from mercantile life, and offered a
profuse hospitality to his friends. Need I say that he had troops of
them?
From the character of much of the company that I met there, it was easy
to see what was the chief object of attraction. It was not the wines,
his luxurious dinners, nor the joys of the _fete champetre_, that
brought to the villa Dardonville so many of the choice youth of the
neighbourhood--the sons of rich planters and merchants--the young
officers of the near military post. There was an influence far more
powerful than these--Olympe.
Olympe was an heiress--a beauty--a belle.
In truth she was a lovely creature--one of those blonde, golden-haired
beings, that appear to bring earth and heaven together, uniting in soft
sweet harmony the form of a woman with the spirit of an angel.
She was still only a girl; but the precocity of that sunny clime
promised the early development of her perfect form, already
distinguished by charms of which she alone appeared unconscious.
It would have been no difficult matter to have fallen in love with
Olympe--a far greater feat to have kept one's heart clear; and I rather
congratulated myself that mine was already occupied. Happy might be the
man who should be honoured by the first passionate throbbings of that
young virginal bosom; but wretched he who should _vainly_ aspire to that
honour.
Perhaps it was my indifference that made me the favourite of Madame
Dardonville; or was there something in the letter of my Creole friend
that introduced me to her confidence? I knew not; but from the hour of
my arrival this good lady admitted me to the intimacy of a confidential
friendship.
Through this confidence I soon became acquainted with the conjugal
destiny of the lovely Olympe--so far as that could be controlled by the
will of her parents. Louis De Hauteroche needed no backer in me.
Notwithstanding his numerous and richer rivals, there was not much to
fear, with such influence in his favour. Above all, the heart of Olympe
was still free. I rejoiced on learning this; for seeing this fair young
creature beset by so many suitors--too young to receive proposals--I
trembled for the fate of my friend. Madame Dardonville, however, was a
good "duenna;" and as for the retired merchant and _ancien lieutenant_,
he had no idea of any danger. It was his design, and had been for
years, that Olympe should marry Luis de Hauteroche, the son of his old
comrade and friend--the son of his early benefactor, as he declared to
me in the warmth of his amical enthusiasm, when we were one day
conversing on the subject.
"Yes," exclaimed he, "De Hauteroche is poor--so was his father before
him; but De Hauteroche was a gentleman of noble race, Monsieur--a true
gentleman--and Luis must be--how could it be otherwise?"
I assured him it was my own belief; and in answer to many a question put
both by Monsieur and Madame, I found the opportunity of making some
slight return for the many kindnesses of my Creole friend. Had I made
the covenant with Adele, I could not have been more zealous in carrying
out my share of its conditions.
Such was the position I held in the Dardonville family previous to my
starting for the prairies.
My excursion extended to the country of the "Crows," and occupied a
period of over three months. I also had the honour of an interview with
the redoubtable "Blackfeet" and the good fortune not to leave my scalp
in the hands of these Ishmaelites of the prairies. I do not here intend
to detail to my reader the incidents of my prairie life. They have no
bearing upon our narrative. I need only remark, that during my three
months' residence in the wilderness I had no communication whatever with
the civilised world, and never heard from any of the friends I had left
behind on either side of the Atlantic. On my return to Saint Louis,
therefore, I found many items of news awaiting me--one of the most
unexpected being the death of Monsieur Dardonville! Congestive fever,
after a short illness, had carried him off--not much beyond the prime of
life, and just when he had accomplished a position of opulent
independence. This is not an uncommon fate with men who seek rest and
retirement after a life of continued activity.
My intimacy with the family suffered no interruption from this
melancholy occurrence, though of course its character was somewhat
changed. But Madame Dardonville was as friendly as ever--even more so I
fancied--and for the few weeks that I remained at Saint Louis, she
pressed me to accept almost a constant hospitality. General society was
no longer received at the villa: only those friends whose intimacy was
of long standing.
That I had won Madame Dardonville's confidence, must be attributed to my
relations with Monsieur Luis De Hauteroche; and to the same, no doubt,
was I indebted for a singular secret that was entrusted to me on the eve
of my departure for New Orleans. It was to the effect that her husband
had made a most curious will--by which one half of his estate was left
to his widow, the other to his daughter. There was nothing remarkable
about this partition of the property, and it appeared to me to be
equitable enough: but it was in another point that the will was oddly
conditioned. This was, that in the event of Luis De Hauteroche offering
to marry Olympe, the latter should not be free to refuse, except under
forfeiture of the legacy left her by her father; and this was to become
the property of Luis De Hauteroche himself! In other words, the
daughter of Dardonville was left by legacy to the son of his old
friend--on such conditions as were likely to lead her to their
acceptance, while young De Hauteroche was comparatively free in his
choice. This I was assured by Madame Dardonville was the fruits of a
profound gratitude for some early favour, which her husband had received
at the hands of his former comrade De Hauteroche.
I thought it a fortunate circumstance, that the parties interested in
this strange document were not likely to offer any opposition to its
terms and conditions. It would prove only an idle instrument, and
perhaps in a few months the writing contained in it would be no longer
of any significance. My friend Luis would inherit the property of the
rich merchant, and marry his daughter to boot. That would be the end of
it.
I was curious to know if De Hauteroche had not yet heard of the fortune
thus strangely conditioned to him, and I asked the question. The reply
was "Not yet." There were reasons why he had not been told of it. But
there was no longer any object in keeping the secret from him, and the
Madame informed me that she had just written to him, enclosing a copy of
her husband's will, and giving him a full explanation of her views upon
the subject.
This conversation occurred upon the day before my departure from Saint
Louis. Madame Dardonville had dispatched her letter by mail. She
expressed regret at not having entrusted it to me, but she was not
apprised of my intention of leaving so soon. Indeed it was hastily
taken. _La premier gelee_--the first frost had made its appearance, and
I remembered my promise.
As I bade my adieus at the Villa Dardonville, the Madame also extracted
a promise from me--to the effect that I should not speak of what she had
told me--even to Luis himself. She was desirous that things should take
their natural course.
Story 2, Chapter IX.