RASTE THE PRODIGAL
About this time, a noticeable change took place in Madame Jozain.
She did not seem nearly so self-satisfied, nor so agreeable to her
customers. They remarked among themselves that something had certainly
gone wrong, for madame was very absent-minded and rather cross, and
was always talking about business being poor, and the quarter growing
duller every day, while the neighbors were a set of curious gossips and
busybodies.
“As soon as they find out that one has had trouble, they blacken one
all they can,” she said bitterly to Madame Fernandez, who was her only
intimate friend.
She spoke cautiously and vaguely of her troubles, for she did not
know whether the news of Raste’s escapade had reached Good Children
Street or not. “I dare say they have seen it in the papers,” she
thought angrily to herself. “Locked up for thirty days, as a suspicious
character! If he had listened to me, and sold that watch at first,
he wouldn’t have got into this trouble. I told him to be careful, but
he was always so headstrong, and now, I don’t know what may happen
any moment. The whole story may get out, through that watch being
talked about in the papers, and perhaps the man that bought it was a
detective. Raste didn’t even find out who bought it. I shall never
feel easy now until Raste is out of the way. As soon as thirty days
are ended, I shall advise him to leave New Orleans for a while. I’m
disgusted with him, to disgrace me in this way, and I don’t want him
here. I can hardly make enough to support myself and that child. If it
wasn’t for the money I’ve hidden away, I should feel discouraged; but
I’ve got that to fall back on. I’m thankful Raste don’t know anything
about it, or he’d get it from me in some way. I’m glad I’ve got rid of
all those things; I’d be afraid to have them by me now. There’s nothing
of any consequence left but that silver jewel-box, and I’ll get that
off my hands the first time I go out.”
Then she thought of the child. Suppose some one should recognize
the child? She was becoming cowardly. A guilty conscience was an
uncomfortable companion. Everything frightened her and made her
suspicious. Madame Paichoux had asked some startling questions; and
besides, she did not know what the child might tell. Children were so
unreliable. One would think they had forgotten everything and did not
see nor hear; then, suddenly, they would drop some word that would lead
to wonderful revelations.
Lady Jane was an intelligent, thoughtful child, and such people as the
d’Hautreves could find out many things from her. Then she congratulated
herself that she had been clever enough to get her away from Mam’selle
Diane, and the Paichoux, too. And that cunning little hunchback,
Pepsie; and old Gex—he was a sly old villain, and no doubt her enemy,
for all he was so affable and polite. Yes, she would keep the child
away from them all as much as possible.
Sometimes she thought it would be best to move away from that quarter
of the city; but then, her going might excite suspicion, so she waited
for further developments with much anxiety.
When Raste’s thirty days were up he came to his mother, very sheepish,
and, apparently, very penitent. To her angry reproaches, he replied
that he had done nothing; that there was no crime in his having the
watch. They didn’t steal the watch; they didn’t ask the poor woman
into their house and rob her. She came there sick, and they took care
of her; and instead of turning her child into the street, they had
treated her as if she belonged to them. As for the watch, he had been
keeping it only until the child was old enough to have it, or until her
relatives turned up; he had never intended to sell it until he found
that it was getting him into trouble, and then he was obliged to get
rid of it.
Madame listened to the plausible arguments of her handsome scapegrace,
and thought that perhaps, after all, there was no real cause for
anxiety; and when he treated his thirty days with fine scorn, as a mere
trifle, a mistake of which no one knew, she felt greatly comforted.
“Respectable people,” he said, “never read about such matters, and,
consequently, none of our friends will ever know of it. It won’t happen
again, for I mean to cut loose from the fellows who led me into that
fix. I mean to go with respectable people. I shall begin all over, and
earn a living in an honest way.”
Madame was delighted; she never knew Raste to talk so reasonably and
to be so thoughtful. After all, his punishment hadn’t done him any
harm. He had had time to think, and these good resolves were the result
of his seclusion from the _friends_ who had nearly proved his ruin.
Therefore, greatly relieved of her anxieties, she took the prodigal
back into her heart and home, and cooked him an excellent supper, not
of a fatted calf, but of a fatted pig that Madame Paichoux had sent her
as a preliminary offering toward closer acquaintance.
For several days Raste remained quietly at work around the house,
assisting his mother in various ways, and showing such a helpful and
kindly disposition that madame was more than ever enchanted with him.
She even went so far as to propose that they should form a partnership
and extend their business.
“My credit is good,” said madame, proudly; “I can buy a larger
stock, and we might hire the store on the corner, and add a grocery
department, by and by.”
“But the capital? We haven’t the capital,” returned Raste doubtfully.
“Oh, I’ll provide the capital, or the credit, which is just as good,”
replied madame, with the air of a millionaire.
“Well,” said Raste, “you go out among the merchants and see what you
can do, and I’ll stay here and wait on the customers. There’s nothing
like getting used to it, you know. But send that young one over to
the ‘Countess,’ or to some of her swell friends. I don’t want to be
bothered with her everlasting questions. Did you ever see such a little
monkey, sitting up holding that long-legged bird, and asking a fellow
a lot of hard questions, as serious as old Father Ducros himself? By
the way, I saw Father Ducros; he’s just back from Cuba. I met him
yesterday, and he asked me why you didn’t come to church.”
Madame went out to see about the new venture with Father Ducros’s
name ringing in her ears, and was absent for several hours. When she
returned she found the house closed and Raste gone.
In a moment Lady Jane came running with the key. Mr. Raste had brought
it to her, and had told her that he was tired tending shop, and was
going for a walk.
Madame smiled, and said as she took the key:
“I thought so; I thought he’d get tired of it, but I can’t expect him
to keep closely to business just at first.”
She took off her bonnet and veil, and put them away; then went limping
about the room, putting it in order. From time to time she smiled. She
had met Madame Paichoux and Marie in the Bon Marché on Rue Royale, and
they had been very agreeable. Madame Paichoux had even invited her to
come and dine with them, to meet Marie’s fiancé. At last they were
beginning to see that she was worthy of some attention, she thought.
Now, if Raste would only behave himself, they could do very well.
With the ready money she had hidden away and by using her credit she
could buy a large stock of goods. She would have more shelves put up,
and a counter, and a fine show-case in the window; and there was the
store on the corner which Raste could fit up as a grocery. Suddenly
she remembered that her rent was due, and that it was about time for
her landlord’s visit. She took out her pocket book and counted its
contents. She had been rather extravagant at the Bon Marché, to impress
Madame Paichoux, and had spent far more than she intended. She found
that she lacked a few dollars of the amount due for rent.
“I must borrow it from the private bank,” she said jocosely, as she
unlocked her bureau.
With the peculiar slyness of such people, she thought her hoard safer
when not too securely concealed. Therefore she had folded up the whole
of her year’s savings, with the amount taken from Lady Jane’s mother,
inside of a pair of partly worn gloves, which were thrown carelessly
among her other clothing in the drawer. It was true she always kept her
bureau locked, and the key was hidden, and she seldom left her house
alone. But even if any one should break it open, she thought they would
never think of unrolling those old gloves.
When she opened the bureau it seemed very disorderly. “I didn’t surely
leave my things in such confusion,” she said, nervously clutching at
the gloves, which were startlingly conspicuous. With trembling hands
and beating heart she unfolded them, but instead of the roll of notes
only a slip of paper was found.
The gloves dropped from her nerveless fingers, and, staggering to her
bed, she sat down on the edge and read the large characters, which were
only too familiar and distinct, although they danced and wavered before
her eyes:
DEAR MAMA:
I’ve decided not to go into partnership with you, so I’ll take the
capital and you can keep the credit. The next time that you secrete
from your dutiful son money that you have no right to, don’t hide it
in your old gloves. It isn’t safe. I’m going away on a little trip. I
need a change after my close application to business. By the way, you
can tell your inquisitive neighbors that I’ve gone out to my _uncle’s
ranch in Texas_.
Your affectionate and devoted son,
ADRASTE JOZAIN.