"And why not? Have you never been afraid?"
"I? To be sure. I rather like it, too! It's invigorating--unusual. You
know there's a kind of fascination about certain emotions which are in
themselves unpleasant. But--my dear boy, you can't understand. We were
talking about you the other night at the Boston Club after your
election, and Thompson told about that affair you had with those
niggers up the State, when you were sheriff. It was quite thrilling to
hear him tell it."
"Indeed?"
"Oh, yes! He made you out a great hero. I never knew why you went in
for politics, or at least why, if you went in at all, you didn't try
for something worth while. You could have gone to the legislature just
as easily. But for a Blake to be sheriff! Well, it knocked us all silly
when we heard of it, and I don't understand it yet. We pictured you
locking up drunken men, serving subpoenas, and selling widows' farms
over their heads."
"There's really more to a sheriff's duties than that."
"So I judged from Thompson's blood-curdling tales. I felt very anaemic
and insignificant as I listened to him."
"It doesn't hurt a gentleman to hold a minor political office, even in
a tough parish. I think men ought to try themselves out and find what
they are made of."
"It isn't your lack of exclusiveness that strikes one; it's your nerve."
"Oh, that's mostly imaginary. I haven't much, really. But the truth is
I'm interested in courage. They say a man always admires the quality in
which he is naturally lacking, and wants to acquire it. I'm interested
in brave men, too; they fascinate me. I've studied them; I've tried to
analyze courage and find out what it is, where it lies, how it is
developed, and all about it, because I have, perhaps, a rather foolish
craving to be able to call myself fairly brave."
"If you hadn't made a reputation for yourself, this sort of modesty
would convict you of cowardice," Dreux exclaimed. "It sounds very
funny, coming from you, and I think you are posing. Now with me it is
wholly different. I couldn't stand what you have; why, the sight of a
dead man would unsettle me for months and, as for risking my life or
attempting the life of a fellow creature--well, it would be a physical
impossibility. I--I'd just turn tail. You are exceptional, though you
may not know it; you're not normal. The majority of us, away back in
the woodsheds of our minds, recognize ourselves as cowards, and I
differ from the rest in that I'm brave enough to admit it."
"How do you know you are a coward?"
"Oh, any little thing upsets me."
"Your people were brave enough."
"Of course, but conditions were different in those days; we're more
advanced now. There's nothing refined about swinging sabers around your
head like a windmill and chopping off Yankee arms and legs; nor is
there anything especially artistic in two gentlemen meeting at dawn
under the oaks with shotguns loaded with scrap iron." Mr. Dreux
shuddered. "I'm tremendously glad the war is over and duels are out of
fashion."
"Well, be thankful that antiques are not out of fashion. There is still
a profit in them, I suppose?"
Dreux shook his head mournfully. "Not in the good stuff. I just sold
the original sword of Jean Lafitte to a man who makes preserved
tomatoes. It is the eighth in three weeks. The business in Lafitte
sabers is very fair lately. General Jackson belt-buckles are moving
well, too, not to mention plug hats worn by Jefferson Davis at his
inauguration. There was a fabulous hardwood king at the St. Charles
whom I inflamed with the beauties of marquetrie du bois. It was all
modern, of course, made in Baltimore, but I found him a genuine
Sinurette four-poster which was very fine. I also discovered a royal
Sevres vase for him, worth a small fortune, but he preferred a bath
sponge used by Louis XIV. I assured him the sponge was genuine, so he
bought a Buhl cabinet to put it in. I took the vase for Myra Nell."
"Do you think Myra Nell would care to be Queen of the Carnival?" Norvin
inquired.
"Care?" Bernie started forward in his chair, his eyes opened wide.
"You're--joking! Is--is there any--" He relaxed suddenly, and after an
instant's hesitation inquired, "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I say. She can be Queen if she wishes."
Dreux shook his head reluctantly. "She'd be delighted, of course; she'd
go mad at the prospect, but--frankly, she can't afford it." He flushed
under Blake's gaze.
"I'm sorry, Bernie. I've been told to ask her."
"I am very much obliged to you for the honor, and it's worth any
sacrifice, but--Lord! It is disgusting to be poor." He prodded
viciously with his cane.
"It is a great thing for any girl to be Queen. The chance may not come
again."
Dreux made a creditable effort to conceal his disappointment, but he
was really beside himself with chagrin. "You needn't tell me," he said,
"but there is no use of my even dreaming of it; I've figured over the
expense too often. She was Queen of Momus last year--that's why I've
had to vouch for so many Lafitte swords and Davis high hats. If those
tourists ever compare notes they'll think that old pirate must have
been a centipede or a devilfish to wield all those weapons."
"I would like to have her accept," Blake persisted.
Bernie Dreux glanced at the speaker quickly, feeling a warm glow
suffuse his withered body at the hint of encouragement for his private
hopes. What more natural, he reasoned, than for Blake to wish his
future wife to accept the highest social honor that New Orleans can
confer? Norvin's next words offered further encouragement, yet awoke a
very conflicting emotion.
"In view of the circumstances, and in view of all it means to Myra
Nell, I would consider it a privilege to lend you whatever you require.
She need never know."
Involuntarily the little bachelor flushed and drew himself up.
"Thanks! It's very considerate of you, but--I can't accept, really."
"Even for her sake?"
"If I didn't know you so well, or perhaps if you didn't know us so
well, I'd resent such a proposal."
"Nonsense! Don't be foolish." Realizing thoroughly what this sacrifice
meant to Miss Warren's half-brother, Norvin continued: "Suppose we say
nothing further about it for the time being. Perhaps you will feel
differently later."
After a pause Dreux said: "Heaven knows where these carnivals will end
if we continue giving bigger pageants every year. It's a frightful
drain on the antique business, and I'm afraid I will have to drop out
next season. I scarcely know what to do."
"Why don't you marry?" Blake inquired.
"Marry?" Dreux smiled whimsically. "That lumber king had a daughter,
but she was freckled."
"Felicite Delord isn't freckled."
Bernie said nothing for a moment, and then inquired quietly:
"What do you know about Felicite?"
"All there is to know, I believe. Enough, at any rate, to realize that
you ought to marry her."