On my return to New Orleans, one of my earliest solicitudes was about my
European correspondence. There letters are not delivered by a carrier,
or were not at the time of which I speak. To obtain them, you must
either send to the Post-office, or go for them yourself; and expecting
some letters of importance, I chose the latter alternative.
I reached the office at the hour when the Atlantic steamer's mail was
being delivered. As is usual at that time, there was a crowd around the
delivery-window; but by means of the simple contrivance of a gallery, or
_coulisse_, each applicant was enabled to take his turn. I fell into
rank, and awaited mine.
As we moved gradually forward, I could hear the different individuals
asking for their letters--each giving his name, or sometimes both name
and address.
Rarely was any question asked, beyond the demand for the amount of
postage--the applicant paying it through the delivery-window, receiving
the letter, and passing on to make room for the impatient gentleman in
his rear.
I had arrived within some half-dozen files of the box, when I heard
pronounced a well-known name.
"_Monsieur Luis De Hauteroche_."
It was not very distinctly enunciated--in fact rather in a sort of
muttered tone--but I could not be mistaken as to the name.
There was nothing to surprise me in this. The young lawyer was no doubt
there to receive his morning correspondence, like any other man of
business. I should not have given a thought to the circumstance,
farther than to congratulate myself on the good fortune of having
opportunely encountered my friend--since I was just on my way to call
upon him, at his office. I say, I should have given no farther thought
to the circumstance; but, just as the letter was being delivered, I
overheard the words "From Saint Louis," pronounced by the delivery
clerk. No doubt it was some matter relating to the amount of postage;
but the phrase had a singular effect on my ears, and at once called up a
train of ideas.
"So," soliloquised I, "Monsieur Luis has received _the_ letter. The
mail must have come down by the same boat in which I travelled. Very
amusing! I should know the contents of that epistle better than he.
Ha! ha! ha! Perhaps the most important letter he ever received in his
life! The opening of that envelope will reveal to him a world of
happiness. Within, he will find the offer of a hand, a heart, and a
fortune. Lucky fellow! he is indeed to be envied!"
I should have felt greatly inclined to have anticipated the post in its
office, and to have had the pleasure of imparting the delicious news
_viva voce_, but was restrained by remembering the injunctions of Madame
Dardonville. I was curious, however, to observe the effect which the
letter from Saint Louis would produce upon my friend; and I leaned over
to catch a glimpse of his face. It might not be he who had inquired for
the letter--some messenger from the office, perhaps,--and it now
occurred to me that it was not his voice I had heard. But I was unable
to determine the point. Three or four very stout tall fellows were in
front; and, twist myself as I might, I could not see over or around
them. "Never mind!" thought I, "I shall follow him directly to his
office, and then--"
This reflection was interrupted by observing my friend, as I supposed,
emerge from the exit end of the slip, and pass into the street. I
thought it was he, and yet I was not quite certain. His back was
towards me; but as he walked out of the portico, he turned slightly, and
I caught a momentary glimpse of his side face. It was certainly like
him; but I was struck with a sudden impression that it was more like the
face of Monsieur Despard. This caused me to scrutinise the figure with
more eagerness; but some one stepped in front of me, and when I looked
again, he was gone out of sight.
"It matters little," thought I, "as I am on my way to De Hauteroche's
office, where, at this hour, I shall, no doubt, find him."
After waiting as patiently as possible for my "turn," I obtained it at
length; and, possessing myself of the expected letters, I sallied out
into the street. I did not go direct to the office of my friend, but
made a long detour--to give me time to glean the contents of my
correspondence.
I arrived at length in the Rue Royale. As I had anticipated, De
Hauteroche was in his office, and received me with a genuine expression
of welcome.
He was differently dressed from the man I had seen--in a coat altogether
unlike! There was hardly time to have changed it? It could not have
been he!
"_Parbleu_! my friend, what's the matter?" he inquired, observing my
astonishment. "Do you perceive any change in me since we parted? I
hope none for the worse, eh?"
"Answer me!" said I, without replying to his question. "How long have
you had that coat on?"
"Ha! ha! what an eccentric question! ha! ha! ha! I fear, _mon ami_, you
have left more than your heart in Saint Louis, ha! ha! ha!"
"Nay, please answer my question--how long?"
"To-day, do you mean?"
"Yes, to-day."
"Oh! about an hour. It is my business coat. I put it on when I came
into the office, about an hour ago."
"And you have not had it off since?"
"No."
"You have not been out of the office either?"
"Not that I am aware off, _mon ami_; but pray why do you make these
inquiries?"
"Simply because I fancied I saw you just now."
"Where?"
"At the Post-office."
"Oh, no! I was not there. I never go. I always send for my letters;
it is so unpleasant, squeezing through the horrid crowd."
"I certainly saw some one wonderfully like you; and now I am convinced
of what I had only suspected, that he whom I saw was that same
gentleman, to whom I am indebted for your acquaintance."
"_Peste_!" exclaimed the young Creole, springing to his feet, and
assuming a serious countenance. "Likely enough it may be. _Mon Dieu_!
this is intolerable. Do you know, my friend, that I am frequently
mistaken for him, and he for me; and what is still worse, I have reason
to believe that the fellow has, on more than one occasion, personated
me. _Mere de Dieu_! it is not to be borne; and if I can only get proof
of it--I am even now about the affair--if I can only establish the
proofs, I shall effectually put a stop to it. He shall find I can
handle the small-sword a little more skilfully than your unfortunate
friend. _Mon Dieu_! it is infamous: a common _spoilsman_--a swindler--
even worse, I have heard; and to think how my character suffers! Why no
later than yesterday, would you believe it, I was joked by one of my
oldest and most respected friends, for having figured at a low quadroon
ball in the Faubourg Treme! It is positively vexatious!"
Of course I assented to this denunciation, and to the necessity of some
inquiry being made into the goings on of Monsieur Jacques Despard.
During my winter sojourn in New Orleans, I had more than once dropped
accidentally upon this last-mentioned personage, but never did I observe
him in any very creditable position. It did not need the declaration of
De Hauteroche, to prove to me that he was both _sportsman_ (gambler) and
swindler; but just then other matters came before my mind. I was the
bearer of a pretty little billet from Olympe to Adele; and the hour had
arrived in which it was proper for me to make my call and deliver it.
Leaving my friend, therefore, to his books and briefs, I went off upon
my errand.
I was a little puzzled at De Hauteroche's behaviour. He must have
received the letter in time to have read it before my arrival at the
office; and yet I observed none of the effect that the reading of such
an important document would be likely to produce. On further reflection
I felt convinced that he could not have read it at all. Perhaps his
messenger, who had taken it from the post-office, had not returned. Or,
what was likely enough, it might not be _that_ letter, but some other
one of no importance, or more probable still, there might have been
none, and I had mistaken the name. Certainly, if it were the epistle I
supposed it to be, and if he had already perused it, the effect was far
from what I should have expected. Of course I did not imagine he would
appear in ecstasies in my presence, and all at once reveal to me the
secret of his happiness; but, on the other hand, I could not account for
the imperturbable coolness he had exhibited throughout our short
interview--his thoughts, indeed, only occupied by vexation at the
unfortunate resemblance he bore to the gambler. Of course, then, he
could have had no letter--at least not one that offered him a wife and a
fortune. I might have ascertained this to a certainty by simply putting
a question, and some vague suspicion floating about in my mind, half
prompted me to do so; but I remembered the caution which I had received
from the little Madame Dardonville--besides, it was a delicate point,
and I dreaded being deemed a meddler. After all, I had no doubt about
the matter. His supreme happiness was still unknown to him. The
messenger of glad tidings had not yet arrived. The next mail-boat would
bring the precious epistle, and then--
I had entered the vine-shadowed verandah in the Rue Bourgogne. The
green _jalousie_ opened at the sound of my steps; and those beautiful
brown eyes, smiling upon me through the fringework of the white
curtains, carried my thoughts into a new current. Luis and his affairs
were alike forgotten. I had eyes and thoughts only for Adele.
Story 2, Chapter X.