IN WHICH WE MEET THE OTHER MAN, ALSO ANOTHER WOMAN
Luigi's place, as all men know, is situated upon a small, crooked and
very dirty street, yet none the less, it is an abode of contentment
for those who know good living. When Helena and I entered the door I
felt as one again at home. Here were the sanded floors, the old
water-bottles, the large chandelier with its cut glasses in the middle
of the room, the small tables with their coarse clean linen. The same
old French waiters stood here and there about, each with impeccable
apron and very peccable shoes, as is the wont of all waiters. But the
waiters at Luigi's are more than waiters; they are friends, and they
never forget a face. Therefore, as always, I had no occasion for
surprise when Jean, my waiter these many years at Luigi's, stepped
forward as though it had been but last week and not three years ago
when he had seen me. He called me by name, greeted me again to his
city, and gently aided Helena with her wraps and gloves.
"And M'sieu can not long remain away from us, forever?" said he.
"It has been three years, Jean," said I, "more is the pity. But now,
I can remain three hours--will that serve? At the end of that time we
must away."
Jean was human, yet discreet. He knew that when last he saw me I was a
single man. Now he had doubts. He stood hovering about, a question on
his tongue, smitten of admiration much as had been my dog, Partial, at
his first sight of Helena. At last he made excuse to step close behind
my chair under pretense of finding my napkin.
"_Enfin, M'sieu?_" said he, smiling.
"_Pas encore_, Jean!" I replied.
I saw a slow flush on Helena's cheek, but she gave no other sign that
she had overheard. So I began forthwith making much ado about ordering
our supper, which as usual really was much a matter of Jean's taste.
"We have to-night in the ice-boxes, M'sieu," said that artist, "some
cock oysters which are dreams. Moreover, I have laid aside two
canvasbacks, the best I ever saw--it was in the hope that some really
good friend of mine would come in. Behold, I am happy--I must have
been expecting you. Believe me, we have never had better birds than
these. They are excellent."
"Perhaps the oysters, Jean," said I, "very small and dark. I presume
possibly a very small _fillet_ of trout this evening, and the
sauce--you still can make it, Jean? Such _entrees_ as you like, of
course. But, since Mademoiselle--" and here I smiled--"and I, also,
are very hungry this evening, we wish a woodcock after the canvasback,
if you do not mind. Perhaps it is not too much?"
"_Mais non!_" replied Jean. "You are of those who know well that to
eat too much is not to dine well. But I shall bring you two oysters,
_mariniere_--a sauce my own wife invented. And yes, some small bird,
_beccasine_, broiled lightly--perhaps you will enjoy it after the
canvasback, although I assure you those are excellent indeed. We have
few sweets here, as M'sieu knows, but cheese, if you like, and of
course coffee; and always we have the red wine which I remember M'sieu
liked so much."
"It is with you, Jean," said I. And Helena, turning, smiled upon him
swiftly, in such fashion that he scarce touched the floor at all as he
walked out for his radishes and olives.
"Isn't it nice?" said Helena. "Isn't it like the old times? I always
loved this old town. It seems so homelike."
"Please do not use that word, Helena," said I. "I wish to be entirely
happy to-night, in the belief that some time I shall know what home
is."
"Do you think Jean knew me also?" she demanded. "Certainly, I have
been here also before."
"No one who has ever seen you, Helena, ever forgets you. But Jean is,
of course, discreet."
"Suppose he knew that I was here to-night against my free will, and
only under parole?"
"Jean is wise; he knows such things ought not to be, even if they are.
And he understood me when I said, 'not yet.'"
"Yes," said she; "quite right. _Pas encore!_"
Jean returned, and as a special favor to an old patron asked us
politely if we would enjoy a look through the kitchen and the
ice-boxes. As usual, we accepted this invitation, and passed back
through the green swing doors, following our guide along the row of
charcoal fires, through a dingy room decorated with shining coppers
and bits of glass and silver. These ice-boxes were such as to offer
continual delight to any epicure, what with their rows of fat clean
fishes and crabs and oysters, the birds nicely plucked, all the
dainties which this rich market of the South could afford, from
papabotte to terrapin. Helena herself selected two woodcock and
approved the judgment of Jean in canvasback. Presently she turned to
me, a flush of embarrassment upon her face.
"Harry," she said, "I don't like to say anything, but you know--you've
been telling me you were so poor. Now, a girl doesn't want to make it
difficult----"
"Mademoiselle," said I, bowing, "I am quite able to foot the bill
to-night. I had just sold some hay before I started from home."
"Well, I'm awfully hungry," she admitted; "besides, it's such a lark."
"Yes," said I; and presently, as we reached our table again, I showed
her the afternoon papers, which as yet she had not seen. She read
through the account of our escapade, her lips compressed; but
presently she folded the paper and laid it down without comment.
"At any minute, you see," said I, "I may be apprehended and our little
supper brought to an end. That is why I hastened with the order. I do
not wish to hurry you in any way, however, and we shall use the full
three hours. Although, of course, you see that the bird of time indeed
is on the wing to-night, as well as those other birds on the
broilers."
She only looked at me steadily and made no comment. "Once suspected
here," said I, "all is over for me, and you are free again. It would
be entirely easy for you to make some sign or movement which I,
perhaps, could not detect. Perhaps, at any moment, some one may enter
who knows you--as I've said, no one can look at you and forget you,
Helena. But please let none of this affect your appetite. Our little
supper is our little adventure. I hope you will enjoy both, my dear."
"You did take some chance, did you not?" she said slowly.
"It might be a chance."
"But you will be so nervous you can't enjoy your spread."
"Not in the least, Helena. A nervous man has no business in the trade
of piracy;--but, ah! the _fillet_ of trout, Helena."
Jean was proud of his art, the chef proud also, and the chef knew we
were here. A general air of comfort seemed to settle down upon our
little corner of the restaurant, a quiet contentment. For the most
part, folk came here who had no hurry and no anxiety, and it was a
sort of club for many persons who knew how to eat and to live and to
enjoy life quietly, as life should be enjoyed. None dreamed, of
course, that aught but equal leisure existed for our little table,
where sat a rather lank and shabby man in flannels, and a very
especially beautiful young woman in half evening dress. At Luigi's,
every one is polite to every one else, and the curiosity is but that
of fraternity. Perhaps, some eyes were cast our way, I could not tell.
Jean, in slow solemnity and pleasant ease, brought on many things not
nominated in the bond. At length he arranged his duck-press on his
little table near us, and having squeezed the elixir from the two
dissected fowls, began to stir the juices into a sauce of his own,
made with sherry wine and a touch of _file_, many things which Jean
knows best. He was just in the act of pouring this most delectable
sauce over the two bits of tender fowl upon our hot plates, when,
happening to look up, I saw some one entering the door.
"Jean, if you please," said I, deliberately pulling the coat-rack in
front of our table, "Mademoiselle perhaps feels a slight draft. Would
you fetch a screen?"
He turned. "Helena," said I, after a moment, "now our adventure has
come."
"What do you mean?" said she. "Why do you do that?"--she nodded at the
screen. "Why, I say?"
"I have your parole?"
"Yes."
"I am glad it is yes!" said I. "You could break it now and escape so
easily. One little move on your part and my punishment is at hand."
"Who was it?" she asked, suspecting.
"No one much," said I, "only our esteemed friend, Mr. Calvin Davidson,
whose waistcoat I am now wearing. Some one is with him, I don't know
who it is. A very nice-looking lady, next to the most beautiful woman
in this room, I must say."
"Let me see," said she; and I allowed her to look through the crack in
the screen.
"She certainly is very stunning," said I, "is she not? Tall, dark, a
trifle superb--I wonder--I wonder sometimes, Helena, if Cal Davidson
is true to Poll?"
"Nonsense!" was her retort. "But as you say, here is our adventure, or
at least yours. How do you propose to get out of it?"
"I don't know yet," said I. "Just at present I do not wish this
canvasback to get cold. We have remaining before us two hours or more,
ample time to make any plan which may be needed. Coffee, I have found,
is excellent for plans. Let us make no plans until we have had our
coffee, after our little dinner. That will be an hour or so yet.
Plenty of time to plan, Helena," said I. "And please do not slight
this bird--it is delicious."
Her eyes still were sparkling. "I'm rather glad I came," said she.
"So am I, and I shall be glad when we are back. But meantime I trust
you, Helena, absolutely. I will even tell you more. Davidson's boat,
the one which we left him instead of the _Belle Helene_, is lying in
the same slip with ours, rubbing noses with our yacht yonder, as I
showed you. Our men have talked with his. They do not yet suspect that
we are the vessel which everybody wants to find. I am very thankful
their engineer was so sleepy. I learned there at the wharf that Cal
Davidson was down-town at his club. He seems to have departed long
enough to find excellent company, as usual. I am glad that he has done
so, for in all likelihood he will not return to his own boat before
to-morrow morning. He will prefer his room at the club to his bunk on
the _Sea Rover_, if I know Cal Davidson. And by that time I hope to be
far away."
"Does he know who you are--does he know who it was that took the
_Belle Helene_?"
"I think not. But, very stupidly--being so anxious to see the
original--I left a photograph of yourself on our old boat, the _Sea
Rover_. Item, one cigarette case with my initials. Of course, Cal
Davidson may guess the simple truth, or he may make a mystery of
these things. It seems he prefers to make a mystery; and I am sure
that suits me much better."
"But knowing these things--knowing that his boat was lying right at
the dock alongside of us--why did you stop?"
"I thought it was you, Helena, who suggested this little adventure at
Luigi's! And I promise you I am enjoying it very much. It seems so
much like old times."
"But that can't ever be over again, Harry."
"Naturally not. But often new times are quite as good as old ones. I
can conceive of such a thing in our case. No, I shall use this
privilege of your society to the limit, Helena, fearing I may not see
you soon again, after once I have put you back in your hat box. You
coaxed me to leave the boat, and I shall tell you when to return."
"Why not now?"
"No, at twelve o'clock. Not earlier."
"And you propose sitting here with me till then?"
"I could imagine no better pastime, were I condemned to die at
sunrise. Tell me, do you wish me to call Mr. Davidson?"
"Of course I do not, since I gave you my word. Besides, I know that
girl with him. It's Sally Byington. Some call her good-looking, but I
am sure I don't know why."
"Fie upon you! She is superb. In short, Helena, I am not sure but she
is finer-looking than yourself!"
"Indeed!"
"Yes. Cal Davidson, whatever may be his taste in neckties or
waistcoats, seems to me excellent in this other regard. Perhaps just a
trifle flamboyant for Luigi's, but certainly stunning."
"Our relations are not such as to lead me to discuss our friends," she
rejoined haughtily. "And, as you say, our duck is getting cold. I
adore these canvasbacks. I would like to come back to-morrow and have
another." She cut savagely into her fowl.
"Alas, Helena, to-morrow you will be far away. In time I hope to
reconcile you to the simple life of piracy. Indeed, unless all plans
go wrong, we may very likely have canvasbacks on the boat; although I
can not promise you that John will be as good a chef as our friend
here at Luigi's. All good buccaneers use their fair captives well."
"Indeed! And why do you not ask Sally Byington into your list of
prisoners, since you fancy her so much."
"Nay, say not so, Helena. I trust I am somewhat catholic in taste
regarding ladies, as any gentleman should be, yet after all, I am
gentler in my preferences. Quite aside from that, I find one fair
captive quite enough to make me abundant trouble."
At about this time Jean approached behind the screen, bearing a copy
of a late edition of an evening paper, which fortunately he seemed not
closely to have scanned. I took it quickly and placed it with the
front page down.
"Monsieur no doubt has heard of the great sensation?" commented Jean.
"No, what is that, Jean?"
"The papers have been full of nothing else. It seems a band of
cutthroat river pirates have stolen a gentleman's yacht, and so far as
can be told, have escaped with it down the river, perhaps entirely to
the Gulf."
"That, Jean," said I, "is a most extraordinary thing. Are you sure of
the facts?"
"Naturally--is it not all in the paper? This gentleman then has his
yacht anchored at Natchez, and he goes ashore on important business.
Comes then this band of river ruffians in the dark, and as though
pirates of a hundred years ago, and led by Jean Lafitte himself, they
capture the vessel!"
"_Mon Dieu!_ Jean you do not say so?"
"But assuredly I say so; nor is that all, Monsieur. On board this
yacht was a young and beautiful lady of great wealth and beauty, as
well--the fiancee, so it is said, of this gentleman who owns the
yacht. What is the action of these pirates in regard to this beautiful
young lady and her aunt, who also is upon the yacht for the cruise? Do
they place these ladies ashore? No, they imprison them upon the boat,
and so, _pouf!_ off for the gulf. Nor has any trace of them been found
from that time till now. A rumor goes that the gentleman who owns the
yacht is at this time in New Orleans, but as for that unfortunate
young lady, where is she to-night? I demand that, Monsieur. Ah! And
she is beautiful."
"Now, is not this a most extraordinary tale you bring, Jean? Let us
hope it is not true. Why, if it were true, that ruffian might escape
and hide for days or weeks in the bayous around Barataria, even as
Jean Lafitte did a hundred years ago."
"Assuredly he might. Ah, I know it well, that country. But Jean
Lafitte was no pirate, simply a merchant who did not pay duties. And
he sold silks and laces cheap to the people hereabout--I could show
you the very causeway they built across the marsh, to reach the place
where he landed his boats at the heads of one of the great bays--it is
not far from the plantation of Monsieur Edouard Manning, below New
Iberia. Believe me, Monsieur, the country folk hunt yet for the buried
treasure of Jean Lafitte; and sometimes they find it."
"You please me, Jean. Tell me more of that extraordinary person."
"Extraordinary, you may call him, Monsieur. And he had a way with
women, so it is said--even his captives came to admire him in time, so
generous and bold was he."
"A daredevil fellow I doubt not, Jean?"
"You may say that. But of great good and many kindnesses to all the
folk in the lower parts of this state in times gone by. Now--say it
not aloud, Monsieur--scarce a family in all Acadia but has map and key
to some buried treasure of Jean Lafitte. Why, Monsieur, here in this
very cafe, once worked a negro boy. He, being sick, I help him as a
gentleman does those negro, to be sure, and he was of heart enough to
thank me for that. So one day he came to me and told me a story of a
treasure of a descendant of Lafitte. He himself, this negro, had
helped his master to bury that same treasure."
"And does he know the place now? Could he point it out?"
"Assuredly, and the master who buried it now is dead."
"Then why does not the negro boy go and dig it up again, very
naturally?"
"Ah, for the best reasons. That old Frenchman, descendant of Jean
Lafitte, was no fool. What does he in this burial of treasure? Ah! He
takes him a white parrot, a black cat and a live monkey, and these
three, all of them, he buries on top of the treasure-box and covers
all with earth and grass above the earth. And then above the grave he
says such a malediction upon any who may disturb it as would alone
frighten to the death any person coming there and braving such a
curse. I suggested to the negro boy that he should show me the spot.
Monsieur, he grew pale in terror. Not for a million pounds of solid
gold would he go near that place, him."
"That also is a most extraordinary story, Jean. Taken with this other
fairy tale which you have told me to-night, you almost make me feel
that we are back in the great old days which this country once saw.
But alas!"
"As you say, Monsieur, alas!"
"Now as to that ruffian who stole the gentleman's yacht," I resumed.
"Has he reflected? Has he indeed made his way to the Gulf? Why, he
might even be hiding here in the city somewhere."
"Ah, hardly that, and if so, he well may look out for the law."
"I think a sherbet would be excellent for the lady now, Jean," I
ventured, whereat he departed. I turned over the paper and showed
Helena her own portrait on the front page, four columns deep and set
in such framing of blackfaced scare type as made me blush for my own
sins.
"It is an adventure, Helena!" said I. "Had you not been far the most
beautiful woman in this restaurant to-night, and had not Jean been all
eyes for you, he otherwise would have looked at this paper rather than
at you. Then he would have looked at us both and must have seen the
truth."
"It is an adventure," said she slowly, her color heightening; and
later, "You carried it off well, Harry."
I bowed to her across the table. "Need was to act quickly, for even
this vile newspaper cut is a likeness of you. One glance from Jean,
which may come at any moment later, Helena, and your parole will be
needless further."
"I confess I wished to test you. It was wrong, foolish of me, Harry."
"You have been tested no less, Helena, to-night. And I have found you
a gentle high-born lady, as I had always known you to be. _Noblesse
oblige_, my dear, and you have proved it so to-night. Any time from
now until twelve you need no more than raise a finger--I might not
even see you do so--and you might go free. Why do you not?"
"If the woodcock is as good as the canvasback," was her somewhat
irrelevant reply, "I shall call the evening a success, after all."
But Helena scarcely more than tasted her bird, and pushed back after a
time the broiled mushroom which Jean offered her gently.
"Does not your appetite remain?" I inquired. "Come, you must not break
Jean's heart doubly."
She only pushed back her chair. "I am sorry," said she, "but I want to
go back to the boat."
"Back to the boat! You astonish me. I thought escape from the _Belle
Helene_ was the one wish of your heart these days."
"And so it is."
"Then, Helena, why not escape here and now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I do not mean for you to break your parole--I know you too well for
that. But give me additional parole, my dear girl. Give me your word.
Say that one word. Then we can rise here and announce to Mr. Davidson
and all the world and its newspapers that no crime has been done and
only a honeymoon has been begun. Come, Helena, all the world loves a
lover. All New Orleans will love us if you will raise your finger and
say the word."
I looked toward her. Her head was bent and tears were dropping from
her eyes, tears faithfully concealed by her kerchief. But she said no
word to me, and at her silence my own heart sank--sank until my
courage was quite gone, until I felt the return of a cold brutality.
Still I endeavored to be gentle with one who deserved naught of
gentleness.
"Do not hurry, Helena," I said. "We can return when you like. But the
salad--and the coffee! And see, you have not touched your wine."
"Take me back," she said, her voice low. "I hate you. Till the end of
the world I'll hate you."
"If I could believe that, Helena, it would matter nothing to me to go
a mile farther on any voyage, a foot farther to shield myself or you."
"Take me back," she said to me again. "I want to go to Aunt Lucinda."
"Jean," said I, a moment later when he reappeared. "Mademoiselle
wishes to see one more ice-box in the kitchen. We are in search of
something. May we go again?"
Jean spread out his arms in surprise, but pushed open the green door.
We thus passed, shielded by our screen and unobserved. Once within, I
grasped Jean firmly by the shoulder and pressed a ten dollar bill into
his hand, with other money for the reckoning.
"Take this, Jean, for yourself. We do not care to pass out at the
front, for certain reasons--do you comprehend? It is of Mademoiselle."
"It is of Mademoiselle? Ah, depend upon me. What can I do?"
"This. Leave us here, and we will walk about. Meantime go out the back
way to the alley, Jean, and have a taxicab ready at the mouth of the
alley. Come quick when it is arranged and let us go, because we must
go at once. At another time, Jean, we will return, I trust more
happily. Then we shall order such a dinner as will take Luigi himself
a day to prepare, my friend!"
"For Mademoiselle?"
"For Madame, Jean, as I hope." And now I showed him the portrait on
the front page of the newspaper he had brought me. "Quick," I said,
"and since you have been faithful, some day I will explain all this to
you--with Madame, as I hope."