Wallace Offdean remembered Euphrasie at once as a young person whom
he had assisted to a very high perch on his club-house balcony the
previous Mardi Gras night. He had thought her pretty and attractive
then, and for the space of a day or two wondered who she might be. But
he had not made even so fleeting an impression upon her; seeing which,
he did not refer to any former meeting when Pierre introduced them.
She took the chair which he offered her, and asked him very simply when
he had come, if his journey had been pleasant, and if he had not found
the road from Natchitoches in very good condition.
"Mr. Offde'n only come sence yistiday, Euphrasie," interposed Pierre.
"We been talk' plenty 'bout de place, him an' me. I been tole 'im all
'bout it--_va!_ An' if Mr. Offde'n want to escuse me now, I b'lieve I
go he'p Placide wid dat hoss an' buggy;" and he descended the steps
slowly, and walked lazily with his bent figure in the direction of the
shed beneath which Placide had driven, after depositing Euphrasie at
the door.
"I dare say you find it strange," began. Offdean, "that the owners of
this place have neglected it so long and shamefully. But you see," he
added, smiling, "the management of a plantation does n't enter into
the routine of a commission merchant's business. The place has already
cost them more than they hope to get from it, and naturally they have
n't the wish to sink further money in it." He did not know why he was
saying these things to a mere girl, but he went on: "I'm authorized to
sell the plantation if I can get anything like a reasonable price for
it." Euphrasie laughed in a way that made him uncomfortable, and he
thought he would say no more at present,--not till he knew her better,
anyhow.
"Well," she said in a very decided fashion, "I know you 'll fin' one
or two persons in town who 'll begin by running down the lan' till you
would n' want it as a gif', Mr. Offdean; and who will en' by offering
to take it off yo' han's for the promise of a song, with the lan' as
security again."
They both laughed, and Placide, who was approaching, scowled. But
before he reached the steps his instinctive sense of the courtesy due
to a stranger had banished the look of ill humor. His bearing was so
frank and graceful, and his face such a marvel of beauty, with its
dark, rich coloring and soft lines, that the well-clipped and groomed
Offdean felt his astonishment to be more than half admiration when
they shook hands. He knew that the Santiens had been the former owners
of this plantation which he had come to look after, and naturally he
expected some sort of cooperation or direct assistance from Placide in
his efforts at reconstruction. But Placide proved non-committal, and
exhibited an indifference and ignorance concerning the condition of
affairs that savored surprisingly of affectation.
He had positively nothing to say so long as the talk touched upon
matters concerning Offdean's business there. He was only a little less
taciturn when more general topics were approached, and directly after
supper he saddled his horse and went away. He would not wait until
morning, for the moon would be rising about midnight, and he knew the
road as well by night as by day. He knew just where the best fords were
across the bayous, and the safest paths across the hills. He knew for
a certainty whose plantations he might traverse, and whose fences he
might derail. But, for that matter, he would derail what he liked, and
cross where he pleased.
Euphrasie walked with him to the shed when he went for his horse. She
was bewildered at his sudden determination, and wanted it explained.
"I don' like that man," he admitted frankly; "I can't stan' him. Sen'
me word w'en he's gone, Euphrasie."
She was patting and rubbing the pony, which knew her well. Only their
dim outlines were discernible in the thick darkness.
"You are foolish, Placide," she replied in French. "You would do better
to stay and help him. No one knows the place so well as you"--
"The place isn't mine, and it's nothing to me," he answered bitterly.
He took her hands and kissed them passionately, but stooping, she
pressed her lips upon his forehead.
"Oh!" he exclaimed rapturously, "you do love me, Euphrasie?" His arms
were holding her, and his lips brushing her hair and cheeks as they
eagerly but ineffectually sought hers.
"Of co'se I love you, Placide. Ain't I going to marry you nex' spring?
You foolish boy!" she replied, disengaging herself from his clasp.
When he was mounted, he stooped to say, "See yere, Euphrasie, don't
have too much to do with that d---- Yankee."
"But, Placide, he is n't a--a--'d---- Yankee;' he's a Southerner, like
you,--a New Orleans man."
"Oh, well, he looks like a Yankee." But Placide laughed, for he was
happy since Euphrasie had kissed him, and he whistled softly as he
urged his horse to a canter and disappeared in the darkness.
The girl stood awhile with clasped hands, trying to understand a little
sigh that rose in her throat, and that was not one of regret. When shew
regained the house, she went directly to her room, and left her father
talking to Offdean in the quiet and perfumed night.
* * * * *