For two weeks more our boat continued its slow and silent voyage among the
bayous. We saw signs of civilization, but they were still far apart. These
signs alarmed Mario. He had already chosen his place of abode and spoke of
it with his usual enthusiasm; a prairie where he had camped for two weeks
with his young hunters five years before.
"A principality--that is what I count on establishing there," he cried,
pushing his hand through his hair. "And think!--if, maybe, some one has
occupied it! Oh, the thief! the robber! Let him not fall into my hands!
I'll strangle--I'll kill him!"
My father, to console him, would say that it would be easy to find other
tracts just as fine.
"Never!" replied he, rolling his eyes and brandishing his arms; and his
fury would grow until Maggie cried:
"He is Satan himself! He's the devil!"
One evening the flatboat stopped a few miles only from where is now the
village of Pattersonville. The weather was magnificent, and while papa,
Gordon, and Mario went hunting, Joseph, Alix, and we two walked on the
bank. Little by little we wandered, and, burying ourselves in the
interior, we found ourselves all at once confronting a little cottage
embowered in a grove of oranges. Alix uttered a cry of admiration and
went towards the house. We saw that it was uninhabited and must have been
long abandoned. The little kitchen, the poultry-house, the dovecote, were
in ruins. But the surroundings were admirable: in the rear a large court
was entirely shaded with live-oaks; in front was the green belt of orange
trees; farther away Bayou Teche, like a blue ribbon, marked a natural
boundary, and at the bottom of the picture the great trees of the forest
lifted their green-brown tops.
"Oh!" cried Alix, "if I could stay here I should be happy."
"Who knows?" replied Joseph. "The owner has left the house; he may be
dead. Who knows but I may take this place?"
"Oh! I pray you, Joseph, try. Try!" At that moment my father and Mario
appeared, looking for us, and Alix cried:
"Welcome, gentlemen, to my domain."
Joseph told of his wife's wish and his hope.... "In any case," said Mario,
"count on us. If you decide to settle here we will stay two weeks--a
month, if need be--to help you establish yourself."
As soon as we had breakfasted my father and Joseph set out for a
plantation which they saw in the distance. They found it a rich estate.
The large, well-built house was surrounded by outbuildings, stables,
granaries, and gardens; fields of cane and corn extended to the limit of
view. The owner, M. Gerbeau, was a young Frenchman. He led them into the
house, presented them to his wife, and offered them refreshments.
[M. Gerbeau tells the travelers how he had come from the Mississippi
River parish of St. Bernard to this place with all his effects in a
schooner--doubtless via the mouth of the river and the bay of Atchafalaya;
while Joseph is all impatience to hear of the little deserted home
concerning which he has inquired. But finally he explains that its owner,
a lone Swede, had died of sunstroke two years before, and M. Gerbeau's
best efforts to find, through the Swedish consul at New Orleans or
otherwise, a successor to the little estate had been unavailing. Joseph
could take the place if he would. He ended by generously forcing upon the
father of Françoise and Suzanne the free use of his traveling-carriage and
"two horses, as gentle as lambs and as swift as deer," with which to make
their journey up the Teche to St. Martinville,[15] the gay, not to say
giddy, little capital of the royalist _émigrés_.]
My father wished to know what means of transport he could secure, on his
return to this point, to take us home.
"Don't let that trouble you; I will arrange that. I already have a
plan--you shall see."
The same day the work began on the Carpentier's home. The three immigrants
and 'Tino fell bravely to work, and M. Gerbeau brought his carpenter and a
cart-load of lumber. Two new rooms were added. The kitchen was repaired,
then the stable, the dovecote, the poultry-house; the garden fences were
restored; also those of the field. My father gave Joseph one of his cows;
the other was promised to Carlo. Mme. Gerbeau was with us much, helping
Alix, as were we. We often dined with her. One Sunday M. Gerbeau came for
us very early and insisted that Mario and Gordon should join us. Maggie,
with her usual phlegm, had declined.
At dinner our host turned the conversation upon St. Martinville, naming
again all the barons, counts, and marquises of whom he had spoken to my
father, and descanting especially on the grandeur of the balls and parties
he had there attended.
"And we have only our camayeu skirts!" cried Suzanne.
"Daughter," observed papa, "be content with what you have. You are neither
a duchess nor a countess, and besides you are traveling."
"And," said M. Gerbeau, "the stores there are full of knickknacks that
would capture the desires of a queen."
On returning to our flatboat Alix came into my room, where I was alone,
and laying her head on my shoulder:
"Françoise," she said, "I have heard mentioned today the dearest friend I
ever had. That Countess de la Houssaye of whom M. Gerbeau spoke is
Madelaine de Livilier, my companion in convent, almost my sister. We were
married nearly at the same time; we were presented at court the same day;
and now here we are, both, in Louisiana!"
"O Alix!" I cried, "I shall see her. Papa has a letter to her husband; I
shall tell her; she will come to see you; and--"
"No, no! You must not speak of me, Françoise. She knew and loved the
Countess Alix de Morainville. I know her; she would repel with scorn the
wife of the gardener. I am happy in my obscurity. Let nothing remind me of
other days."
Seeing that Alix said nothing of all this to Suzanne, I imitated her
example. With all her goodness, Suzanne was so thoughtless and talkative!
FOOTNOTES:
[15] Now generally miscalled St. Martinsville.--TRANSLATOR.