THE RELIGION OF JULES
Eddring made his journey to New Orleans, as he had promised. On the
morning following his arrival he took his breakfast at one of the
quaint cafes of the city, a place with sanded floors and clustered
tables, and a frank view of a kitchen in full though deliberate
operation. One Jules, duck-footed, solemn and deliberate, served him,
and was constituted general philosopher and friend, as had for some
time been Eddring's custom in his frequent visits to this place.
"Jules," said he, tapping the newspaper in his hand, "how about this?
It seems you have a new dancer at the Odeon, very beautiful, very
mysterious, very interesting!"
"Ah, Monsieur, all the young gentlemen they grow crezzy, that is now
four, five month, Monsieur."
"Who is she, then, Jules, and what? Is she indeed very beautiful?"
"It is establish', Monsieur. No one has ever seen her face. As to her
grace and youth, it is not to doubt. She dance always in the domino,
and no man may say in truth he has pass' word with Louise Loisson.
She is the idol, the _nouvelle sensation_ of the city."
"Goes masked, eh? Young, beautiful, eh? Well, I should say that's not
bad advertising, at least."
"Monsieur," said Jules, earnestly, "do not say it at the club. It
would provoke discussion, and the young gentlemen might have anger.
Mademoiselle Louise is worship' in this town. At first, _non!_ It was
thought as you say. But soon this feeling of the young men it has
shange'. It has go into devotion. Now it is religion!"
"Well, that is a pretty state of affairs, isn't it?"
"But I say to you that this Louise Loisson, she dance not like the
othair _femmes du ballet--absolument non."_ Jules became excited,
spreading out his hands and letting fall his napkin.
"It is different, the quality of the dance of mademoiselle," said he.
"It is _quelque chose,_ I do not know what. It is not to describe. It
make you _think,_ thass all. As I say, she has come to be a religion."
"But where does this divine creature live, Jules? Who is she? Come,
now? you ought to tell me that much,"
Jules went on polishing a glass. "Ah, Monsieur, why you h'ask?" said
he. "I may say so much, like this; she live with a lady in the French
town--very fine, very quiet, very secret. It is the house of old
family which was bought by Madame Delchasse. Madame, you have know,
perhaps? She was long time the bes' cook in New Orleans. She make
plenty money. When Mademoiselle Louise she first come here, she is
very poor, she have no friend. Somehow she is found by this Madame
Delchasse. Monsieur and Madame Delchasse, they have once together the
res'traw. Monsieur is very fond of the _escargot a la Bourgogne,_ and
one day he eat too many _escargot._ Madame, she run the res'traw, sell
great many meal to the dam-yankees; sell the cook-_book_ to the dam-
yankees _aussi._ Thus she get rich--very rich, and buy the house on
l'Esplanade. But madame is lonely. She is not receive' by the old
French _familles._ Monsieur Delchasse is dead, her shildren are dead--
she is alone. She take Louise Loisson home to live. My faith! she is
watch her like the cat."
"But how about this dancing? Why does she need to dance?" queried
Eddring.
"Ah, she has dance two, t'ree time in the house of Madame Delchasse.
'It is zhenius,' exclaim Madame Pelchasse at this dance; and always,
and always, _tou-jours,_ she tell of the zhenius of this _jeune fille_
who has come live with her. Thass all. The _proprietaire_ of the
Odeon, he fin' it hout. He insist, this _jeune fille_ shall dance. She
riffuse. He insist, he offer much money. At las', she say she dance if
she have always the masque. _'Bon!'_ he cry, and so it is determine'.
She dance always in the domino. It is most romantique, most a'mirab'.
So this is now the religion of all the young men, _mais, oui,_ this
_jeune fille,_ Mademoiselle Louise Loisson!"
"And how does Madame Delchasse regard this public dancing by her
_jeune fille?"_
"Monsieur, she worship' Mademoiselle Louise. But she say, 'This is
art, and of art the world it is not to be deprive!' It is well for
both madame and for Mademoiselle Louise. The luxury of those room in
those old house, they far surpass the best of what one find in the
new hotel. Mademoiselle have the best cook in New Orleans. She come
in her carriage, she go the same. She drive up to the gate on
l'Esplanade, and the gate is close! Behold all! You know so much as
any gentleman of _Nouvelle Orleans_--you have the tenderloin of
trout?"
After breakfast Eddring strolled over to the box office of the Odeon;
but though he made diligent inquiry of the young man who met him at
the window, the latter could give him no satisfaction beyond the
mention of the address on the Esplanade where dwelt Madame Delchasse.
He was very lukewarm in regard to further inquiries from the
stranger.
The flavor of this little adventure began now to appeal to Eddring,
and thus left to his own resources, he determined to assume a bold
front and call in person at the old house on the Esplanade. It being
still early, he wandered for a time about the strange old city; but
the crooked streets and their quaint shops had lost their charm. The
ancient Place d'Armes, the old Cabildo, the French market, the
tumble-down buildings which house the courts of justice ceased to
interest him. He was relieved when finally he felt it proper to turn
up the old Esplanade, which wandered away with its rows of whitened
trees, out among the dignified and reticent residences of the
_vieux carre_.
The flavor of another day came to him. This, indeed, was the same
_Nouvelle Orleans,_ he reflected, from which in an earlier day
the first Louise Loisson had set sail for France! He, by virtue of
this old volume now resting in his pocket, was concerned with the
fortunes of that earlier Louise Loisson. And yet, he acknowledged the
growing feeling that in this matter there was coming to be for him
something more than a professional interest. This thought he put away
as best he could, chiding himself as perpetually visionary, though
old enough now to dream no more.
In time he arrived at the street number to which he had been
directed, and paused at the iron street gate which shielded even the
carriage drive from the public. Through the bars of the gate he could
see a well-kept, formal lawn and the peaked roof of the close-
shuttered, green-balconied dwelling beyond. There could not have been
a better abode, he reflected, for this mysterious personage who had
called him hither on this fantastic, will-o'-the-wisp journey. Yet he
pulled himself up with disgust. He dared not hope! He reproved
himself sharply. No doubt he was to see presently a gushing or
garrulous or ignorant young woman, whose pretended modesty was but an
artifice, whose real soul was set upon the adulation of the public
and the pecuniary gain received thereby. He was almost of a mind to
turn away, and end his quest then and there.
He was not prepared for what was soon to happen. There came a hum of
wheels along the old roadway, and a carriage pulled up at the walk.
There alighted quickly the figure of a young girl, tall, slender,
round, full-chested, abounding in health and vigor. So much could be
seen at a glance. As to the face of the new-comer, the eyes were
shielded by a dark blue domino, or short mask. Eddring saw beneath,
this concealment a strong, round, tender chin; above, a pile of red-
brown hair. He caught the flash of a sweeping bunch of scarlet
ribbons, heard a quick rustling of skirts, saw an inscrutable face
turned toward him; and then, before he had time to think or speak, a
servant had swept open the great iron gate and the young woman had
stepped within. She did not look back, but passed on rapidly up the
gravel walk toward the house. And John Eddring, foolish, stunned,
abashed, knew that he had seen the mysterious Louise Loisson! Ah, he
had seen more--he had seen another!
He turned as he heard a footstep and a soft voice at his elbow. The
passerby accosted him smiling, and he recognized Jules, the duck-
footed.
"Ah, Monsieur," said the latter, "I see you have also discover' the
shrine. Is it not beautiful, Monsieur--this worship of a pure
_jeune fille?"_
The words brought Eddring back to his own proper senses. Forgetting
all else, he sprang through the big gate, past the servant, and
hastened up the walk. "Miss Lady! Miss Lady!" he cried.