LOUISIANA STATES HER WANTS
"'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Raoul as that person turned in the front door
of the shop after watching Agricola's carriage roll away--he had
intended to unburden his mind to the apothecary with all his natural
impetuosity; but Frowenfeld's gravity as he turned, with the paper in
his hand, induced a different manner. Raoul had learned, despite all the
impulses of his nature, to look upon Frowenfeld with a sort of
enthusiastic awe. He dropped his voice and said--asking like a child a
question he was perfectly able to answer--
"What de matta wid Agricole?"
Frowenfeld, for the moment well-nigh oblivious of his own trouble,
turned upon his assistant a look in which elation was oddly blended
with solemnity, and replied as he walked by:
"Rush of truth to the heart."
Raoul followed a step.
"'Sieur Frowenfel'--"
The apothecary turned once more. Raoul's face bore an expression of
earnest practicability that invited confidence.
"'Sieur Frowenfel', Agricola writ'n' to Sylvestre to stop dat dool?"
"Yes."
"You goin' take dat lett' to Sylvestre?"
"Yes."
"'Sieur Frowenfel', dat de wrong g-way. You got to take it to 'Polyte
Brahmin-Mandarin, an' 'e got to take it to Valentine Grandissime, an'
'_e_ got to take it to Sylvestre. You see, you got to know de manner to
make. Once 'pon a time I had a diffycultie wid--"
"I see," said Frowenfeld; "where may I find Hippolyte Brahmin-Mandarin
at this time of day?"
Raoul shrugged.
"If the pre-parish-ions are not complitted, you will not find 'im; but
if they har complitted--you know 'im?"
"By sight."
"Well, you may fine him at Maspero's, or helse in de front of de
Veau-qui-tête, or helse at de Café Louis Quatorze--mos' likely in front
of de Veau-qui-tête. You know, dat diffycultie I had, dat arise itseff
from de discush'n of one of de mil-littery mov'ments of ca-valry; you
know, I--"
"Yes," said the apothecary; "here, Raoul, is some money; please go and
buy me a good, plain hat."
"All right." Raoul darted behind the counter and got his hat out of a
drawer. "Were at you buy your hats?"
"Anywhere."
"I will go at _my_ hatter."
As the apothecary moved about his shop awaiting Raoul's return, his own
disaster became once more the subject of his anxiety. He noticed that
almost every person who passed looked in. "This is the place,"--"That is
the man,"--how plainly the glances of passers sometimes speak! The
people seemed, moreover, a little nervous. Could even so little a city
be stirred about such a petty, private trouble as this of his? No; the
city was having tribulations of its own.
New Orleans was in that state of suppressed excitement which, in later
days, a frequent need of reassuring the outer world has caused to be
described by the phrase "never more peaceable." Raoul perceived it
before he had left the shop twenty paces behind. By the time he reached
the first corner he was in the swirl of the popular current. He enjoyed
it like a strong swimmer. He even drank of it. It was better than wine
and music mingled.
"Twelve weeks next Thursday, and no sign of re-cession!" said one of
two rapid walkers just in front of him. Their talk was in the French of
the province.
"Oh, re-cession!" exclaimed the other angrily. "The cession is a
reality. That, at least, we have got to swallow. Incredulity is dead."
The first speaker's feelings could find expression only in profanity.
"The cession--we wash our hands of it!" He turned partly around upon his
companion, as they hurried along, and gave his hands a vehement dry
washing. "If Incredulity is dead, Non-participation reigns in its stead,
and Discontent is prime minister!" He brandished his fist as they
turned a corner.
"If we must change, let us be subjects of the First Consul!" said one of
another pair whom Raoul met on a crossing.
There was a gathering of boys and vagabonds at the door of a gun-shop. A
man inside was buying a gun. That was all.
A group came out of a "coffee-house." The leader turned about upon the
rest:
"_Ah, bah! cette_ Amayrican libetty!"
"See! see! it is this way!" said another of the number, taking two
others by their elbows, to secure an audience, "we shall do nothing
ourselves; we are just watching that vile Congress. It is going to tear
the country all to bits!"
"Ah, my friend, you haven't got the _inside_ news," said still
another--Raoul lingered to hear him--"Louisiana is going to state her
wants! We have the liberty of free speech and are going to use it!"
His information was correct; Louisiana, no longer incredulous of her
Americanization, had laid hold of her new liberties and was beginning to
run with them, like a boy dragging his kite over the clods. She was
about to state her wants, he said.
"And her don't-wants," volunteered one whose hand Raoul shook heartily.
"We warn the world. If Congress doesn't take heed, we will not be
responsible for the consequences!"
Raoul's hatter was full of the subject. As Mr. Innerarity entered, he
was saying good-day to a customer in his native tongue, English, and so
continued:
"Yes, under Spain we had a solid, quiet government--Ah! Mr. Innerarity,
overjoyed to see you! We were speaking of these political troubles. I
wish we might see the last of them. It's a terrible bad mess; corruption
to-day--I tell you what--it will be disruption to-morrow. Well, it is no
work of ours; we shall merely stand off and see it."
"Mi-frien'," said Raoul, with mingled pity and superiority, "you haven't
got doze _inside_ nooz; Louisiana is goin' to state w'at she want."
On his way back toward the shop Mr. Innerarity easily learned
Louisiana's wants and don't-wants by heart. She wanted a Creole
governor; she did not want Casa Calvo invited to leave the country; she
wanted the provisions of the Treaty of Cession hurried up; "as soon as
possible," that instrument said; she had waited long enough; she did not
want "dat trile bi-ju'y"--execrable trash! she wanted an _unwatched
import trade!_ she did not want a single additional Américain appointed
to office; she wanted the slave trade.
Just in sight of the bareheaded and anxious Frowenfeld, Raoul let
himself be stopped by a friend.
The remark was exchanged that the times were exciting.
"And yet," said the friend, "the city was never more peaceable. It is
exasperating to see that coward governor looking so diligently after his
police and hurrying on the organization of the Américain volunteer
militia!" He pointed savagely here and there. "M. Innerarity, I am lost
in admiration at the all but craven patience with which our people
endure their wrongs! Do my pistols show _too_ much through my coat?
Well, good-day; I must go home and clean my gun; my dear friend, one
don't know how soon he may have to encounter the Recorder and Register
of Land-titles."
Raoul finished his errand.
"'Sieur Frowenfel', excuse me--I take dat lett' to 'Polyte for you if
you want." There are times when mere shopkeeping--any peaceful
routine--is torture.
But the apothecary felt so himself; he declined his assistant's offer
and went out toward the Veau-qui-tête.