ToMybestComradeMyHusbandCONTENTS
THEGOODNESSOFSAINTROCQUE
TONY’SWIFE
THEFISHERMANOFPASSCHRISTIAN
M’SIEUFORTIER’SVIOLIN
BYTHEBAYOUST。JOHN
WHENTHEBAYOUOVERFLOWS
MR。BAPTISTE
ACARNIVALJANGLE
LITTLEMISSSOPHIE
SISTERJOSEPHA
THEPRALINEWOMAN
ODALIE
LAJUANITA
TITEE
THEGOODNESSOFSAINTROCQUE
Manuelawastallandslenderandgraceful，andonceyouknewherthelitheformcouldneverbemistaken。Shewalkedwiththeeasyspringthatcomesfromaperfectlyarchedfoot。To—dayshesweptswiftlydownMaraisStreet，castingaquickglancehereandtherefromunderherheavyveilasifshefearedshewasbeingfollowed。Ifyouhadpeeredundertheveil，youwouldhaveseenthatManuela’sdarkeyeswereswollenanddiscolouredaboutthelids，asthoughtheyhadknownasleepless，tearfulnight。
Therehadbeenapicnicthedaybefore，andasmerryacrowdofgiddy，chatteringCreolegirlsandboysaseveryoucouldseeboardedtheramshackledummy—trainthatpuffeditswaywheezilyoutwideElysianFieldsStreet，aroundthelily—coveredbayous，toMilneburg—on—the—Lake。Now，apicnicatMilneburgisathingtoberememberedforever。Onechartersarickety—looking，weather—beatendancing—pavilion，builtoverthewater，andafterstoringthechildren——foryourtrueCreoleneverleavesthesmallfolksathome——andthebasketsandmothersdownstairs，theyoungfolksgoup—stairsanddancetothetuneofthebestbandyoueverheard。Forwhatcanequalthemusicofaviolin，aguitar，acornet，andabassvioltotripthequadrilletoatapicnic？
Thenonecanfishinthelakeandgobathingundertheprimbath—houses，soseverelyseparatedsexually，andgorowingonthelakeinatrimboat，followedbytheshrillwarningsofanxiousmamans。Andintheeveningonecomeshome，hatcrownedwithcoolgraySpanishmoss，handsburdenedwithfantasticlatanierbasketswovenbythebrownbayouboys，handinhandwithyourdearestone，tiredbuthappy。
Atthisparticularpicnic，however，therehadbeenbitternessofspirit。TheophilewasManuela’sownespecialproperty，andTheophilehadprovenfalse。HehadnotdancedasinglewaltzorquadrillewithManuela，buthaddesertedherforClaralie，blondeandpetite。ItwasClaraliewhomTheophilehadrowedoutonthelake；itwasClaraliewhomTheophilehadgallantlyledtodinner；
itwasClaralie’shatthathewreathedwithSpanishmoss，andClaraliewhomheescortedhomeafterthejollysingingrideintownonthelittledummy—train。
NotthatManuelalackedpartnersoradmirers。Dearno!shewastoogracefulandbeautifulforthat。Therehadbeenmorethanenoughforher。ButManuelalovedTheophile，yousee，andnoonecouldtakehisplace。Still，shehadtossedherheadandlethersilverylaughterringoutinthedance，asthoughshewerethehappiestofmortals，andhadtrippedhomewithHenri，leaningonhisarm，andlookingupintohiseyesasthoughsheadoredhim。
ThismorningsheshowedthetracesofasleeplessnightandanachingheartasshewalkeddownMaraisStreet。AcrosswideSt。
RocqueAvenueshehastened。"Twoblockstotheriverandonebelow——"sherepeatedtoherselfbreathlessly。Thenshestoodonthecornergazingabouther，untilwithafinalsummoningofadesperatecourageshedivedthroughasmallwicketgateintoagardenofweed—chokedflowers。
Therewasahoarse，rustylittlebellonthegatethatgavequeruloustongueasshepusheditopen。Thehousethatsatbackintheyardwaslittleandoldandweather—beaten。Itsone—storyframehadoncebeenpainted，butthatwasamemoryremoteandtraditional。Astragglingmorning—glorystrovetoconcealitstime—ravagedface。Thelittlewalkofbrokenbitsofbrickwasreddenedcarefully，andtheonelittlestepwasscrupulouslyyellow—washed，whichdenotedthattheoccupantswerecleanlyaswellasreligious。
Manuela’stimidknockwasansweredbyaharsh"Entrez。"
Itwasasmallsombreroomwithin，withabareyellow—washedfloorandraggedcurtainsatthelittlewindow。Inacornerwasadiminutivealtardrapedwiththreadbarelace。TheredglowofthetaperlightedacheapprintofSt。Josephandabrazencrucifix。Thehumanelementintheroomwasfurnishedbyalittle，wizenedyellowwoman，who，black—robed，turbaned，andstern，satbeforeanuncertaintablewhereonweregreasycards。
Manuelapaused，hereyesblinkingatthesemi—obscuritywithin。
TheWizenedOnecalledincroakingtones：
"An’fo’w’yyoucomehere？Assiez—la，ma’amzelle。"
TimidlyManuelasatatthetablefacingtheownerofthevoice。
"Iwant，"shebeganfaintly；buttheMistressoftheCardsunderstood：shehadhadmuchexperience。ThecardswereshuffledinherlonggrimytalonsandstackedbeforeManuela。
"Nowyoucutdemint’reepart，so——un，deux，trois，bien!Youmek’you’weeshwidallyou’heart，bien!Yaas，Isee，Isee!"
BreathlesslydidManuelalearnthatherloverwastrue，but"datlightgal，yaas，shemek’nouvenainSt。Rocquefo’heeslove。"
"Igiveyouonelil’charm，yaas，"saidtheWizenedOnewhentheseancewasover，andManuela，allwhiteandnervous，leanedbackinthericketychair。"Igiveyouonelil’charmfo’toweenhimback，yaas。Youwearh’it’roun’you’wais’，an’hecomeback。
DenyoumekprayeratSt。Rocquean’burncan’le。Denyoucomebackan’tellme，yaas。Cinquantesous，ma’amzelle。Merci。
Goodluckgowidyou。"
Readjustingherveil，Manuelapassedoutthelittlewicketgate，treadingonair。Againthesunshone，andthebreathoftheswampscameashealthfulsea—breezeuntohernostrils。ShefairlyflewinthedirectionofSt。Rocque。
Therewerequiteanumberofpersonsenteringthewhitegatesofthecemetery，forthiswasFriday，whenallthosewhowishgoodluckpraytothesaint，andwashtheirstepspromptlyattwelveo’clockwithawondrousmixturetoguardthehouse。Manuelaboughtacandlefromthekeeperofthelittlelodgeattheentrance，andpausingoneinstantbythegreatsun—dialtoseeiftheheavensandthehourwerepropitious，glidedintothetinychapel，dimandstiflingwithheavyairfrommyriadwish—candlesblazingonthewidetablebeforethealtar—rail。Shesaidherprayerandlightinghercandleplaceditwiththeothers。
MonDieu!howbrightlythesunseemedtoshinenow，shethought，pausingatthedooronherwayout。Hersmallfinger—tips，stillbedewedwithholywater，restedcaressinglyonagamin’shead。
Theivywhichenfoldsthequaintchapelneverseemedsogreen；
theshrineswhichserveastheWayoftheCrossneverseemedsoartistic；thebabygraves，even，seemedcheerful。
TheophilecalledSunday。Manuela’sheartleaped。HehadbeenspendinghisSundayswithClaralie。Hisstaywasshortandhewasplainlybored。ButManuelaknelttothankthegoodSt。
Rocquethatnight，andfondledthecharmaboutherslimwaist。
Therecameaboxofbonbonsduringtheweek，withadecorativecardallrosesandfringe，fromTheophile；butbeingaCreole，andthereforesuperstitiouslycareful，andhavingbeenrearedbyawiseandexperiencedmamantomistrustthegiftsofarecreantlover，Manuelaquietlythrustbonbons，box，andcardintothekitchenfire，andtheFridayfollowingplacedthesecondcandleofhernouvenainSt。Rocque。
ThoseofManuela’sfriendswhohadwatchedwithindignationTheophilegallantlyleadingClaraliehomefromHighMassonSundays，gaspedwithastonishmentwhenthenextSunday，withhisusualbow，theyoungmanofferedManuelahisarmastheworshippersfiledoutinsteptotheorgan’smarch。Claralietossedherheadasshecrossedherselfwithholywater，andthepinkinhercheekswasbrighterthanusual。
Manuelasmiledabrightgood—morningwhenshemetClaralieinSt。
RocquethenextFriday。Thelittleblondeblushedfuriously，andManuelarushedpost—hastetotheWizenedOnetoconferuponthisnewissue。
"H’iteesgood，"saidthedame，shakingherturbanedhead。"Sheees’fraid，shewillwork，maisyou’charm，h’itweelbeather。"
AndManueladepartedwithradianteyes。
TheophilewasnotatMassSundaymorning，andmurderousglancesflashedfromClaralietoManuelabeforethetinklingoftheHost—Bell。NordidTheophilecallateitherhouse。Twoheartsbeatfuriouslyatthesoundofeverypassingfootstep，andtwomindswonderediftheotherwereenjoyingthebelovedone’ssmiles。Twopairofeyes，however，blueandblack，smiledonothers，andtheirownerslaughedandseemednonethelesshappy。
ForyourCreolegirlsareproud，andwoulddieratherthanlettheworldseetheirsorrows。
MondayeveningTheophile，themissing，showedhisrathersheepishcountenanceinManuela’sparlour，andexplainedthathe，withsomechosenspirits，hadgoneforatrip——"overtheLake。"
"Ididnotaskyouwhereyouwereyesterday，"repliedthegirl，saucily。
Theophileshruggedhisshouldersandchangedtheconversation。
ThenextweektherewasabirthdayfeteinhonourofLouise，Theophile’syoungsister。Everyonewasbidden，andnoonethoughtofrefusing，forLouisewasyoung，andthiswouldbeherfirstparty。So，thoughthenightwashot，thedancingwentonasmerrilyaslightyoungfeetcouldmakeitgo。Claraliefluffedherdaintywhiteskirts，andcastmischievoussparklesinthedirectionofTheophile，whowiththemamanandLouisewasbravelytryingnottolookself—conscious。Manuela，tallandcalmandproud—looking，inacool，paleyellowgownwasapparentlyenjoyingherselfwithoutpayingtheslightestattentiontoheryounghost。
"HaveIthepleasureofthisdance？"heaskedherfinally，inalullofthemusic。
Shebowedassent，andasifmovedbyacommonimpulsetheystrolledoutofthedancing—roomintothecool，quaintgarden，wherejessaminesgaveoutanoverpoweringperfume，andacagedmocking—birdcomplainedmelodiouslytothefullmooninthesky。
Itmusthavebeenanengrossingtete—a—tete，forthecalltosupperhadsoundedtwicebeforetheyheardandhurriedintothehouse。ThemarchhadformedwithLouiseradiantlyleadingonthearmofpapa。ClaralietrippedbywithLeon。Ofcourse，nothingremainedforTheophileandManuelatodobuttobringuptherear，forwhichtheyreceivedmuchgood—naturedchaffing。
Butwhenthepartyreachedthedining—room，Theophileproudlyledhispartnertotheheadofthetable，attherighthandofmaman，andsmiledbenignlyaboutatthedelightedassemblage。Nowyouknow，whenaCreoleyoungmanplacesagirlathismother’srighthandathisowntable，thereisbutoneconclusiontobededucedtherefrom。
IfyouhadaskedManuela，aftertheweddingwasover，howithappened，shewouldhavesaidnothing，butlookedwise。
IfyouhadaskedClaralie，shewouldhavelaughedandsaidshealwayspreferredLeon。
IfyouhadaskedTheophile，hewouldhavewonderedthatyouthoughthehadevermeantmorethantoteaseManuela。
IfyouhadaskedtheWizenedOne，shewouldhaveofferedyouacharm。
ButSt。Rocqueknows，forheisagoodsaint，andifyoubelieveinhimandaretrueandgood，andmakeyournouvenaswithacleanheart，hewillgrantyourwish。
TONY’SWIFE
"Gimmefi’centswortho’candy，please。"ItwasthelittleJewgirlwhospoke，andTony’swiferousedherselffromherknittingtoriseandcountoutthemulti—huedcandywhichshouldgoinexchangeforthedingynickelgraspedinwarm，dampfingers。
Threelongsticks，carefullywrappedincrispestbrownpaper，andahalfdozenormoreofpinkcandyfishforlagniappe，andthelittleJewgirlspedawayinblissfulcontentment。Tony’swiferesumedherknittingwithastifledsighuntilthenextcustomershouldcome。
Alowgrowlcausedhertolookupapprehensively。Tonyhimselfstoodbeetle—browedandhugeinthesmalldoorway。
"Getupfromthere，"hemuttered，"andopentwodozenoystersrightaway；theEliotswant’em。"HisEnglishwasunaccented。
ItwaslongsincehehadseenItaly。
Shemovedmeeklybehindthecounter，andbeganworkonthethickshells。Tonystretchedhislongneckupthestreet。
"Mr。Tony，mamawantssomecharcoal。"Theverysmallvoiceathisfeetmusthavepleasedhim，forhisblackbrowsrelaxedintoasmile，andhepokedthelittleone’schinwithahard，dirtyfinger，asheemptiedtheridiculouslysmallbucketofcharcoalintothechild’sbucket，andgaveabananaforlagniappe。
Thecracklingofshellswentonbehind，andastifledsobaroseasabitofsharpedgecutintothethin，wornfingersthatclaspedtheknife。
"Hurryupthere，willyou？"growledtheblackbrows；"theEliotsaresendingfortheoysters。"
Shedeftlystrainedandcountedthem，and，afterwipingherfingers，resumedherseat，andtookuptheendlesscrochetwork，withherusualstifledsigh。
TonyandhiswifehadalwaysbeeninthissamelittlequeeroldshoponPrytaniaStreet，atleasttothememoryoftheoldestinhabitantintheneighbourhood。Whenorhowtheycame，orhowtheystayed，nooneknew；itwasenoughthattheywerethere，likeasortofancestralfixturetothestreet。Theneighbourhoodwasfineenoughtolookdownuponthesetwotumble—downshopsatthecorner，keptbyTonyandMrs。Murphy，thegrocer。Itwasasemi—fashionablelocality，farup—town，awayfromtheold—timeFrenchquarter。Itwasthesortofneighbourhoodwheremillionaireslivebeforetheirfortunesaremadeandfashionable，high—pricedprivateschoolsflourish，wherethesmallcottagesareoccupiedbyaspiringschool—teachersandchoir—singers。Suchwasthislocality，andyoumustadmitthatitwasindeedacondescensiontotolerateTonyandMrs。Murphy。
Hewasagreat，black—bearded，hoarse—voiced，six—footspecimenofItalianhumanity，wholookedinhislittleshopandontheprosaicpavementofPrytaniaStreetsomewhatasHerculesmightseeminamoderndrawing—room。Youinstinctivelythoughtofwildmountain—passes，andthegleamingdirksofbanditcontadiniinlookingathim。Whathislastnamewas，nooneknew。SomeonehadmaintainedoncethathehadbeenchristenedAntonioMalatesta，butthatwasunauthentic，andaslittletobebelievedasthatotherwildtheorythathernamewasMary。
Shewasmeek，pale，little，ugly，andGerman。Altogetherpartofhisarmsandlegswouldhaveverydecentlymadeanotherlargerthanshe。Herhairwaspaleanddrawninsleek，thintightnessawayfromapinched，pitifulface，whosedullcoldeyeshurtyou，becauseyouknewtheyweretryingtomirrorsorrow，andcouldnotbecauseoftheirexpressionlessquality。Nomatterwhattheweatherorwhatherothertoilet，shealwaysworeathinlittleshawlofdingybrick—dusthueabouthershoulders。Nomatterwhattheoccasionorwhattheday，shealwayscarriedherknittingwithher，andseldomceasedtheincessanttwist，twistoftheshiningsteelamongthewhitecottonmeshes。Shemightputdowntheneedlesandlaceintothespool—boxlongenoughtoopenoysters，orwrapupfruitandcandy，orcountoutwoodandcoalintoinfinitesimalportions，ordoherhousework；buttheknittingwassnatchedwithavidityatthefirstsparemoment，andtheworn，white，blue—markedfingers，halfenclosedinkid—glovestallsforprotection，wouldwritheandtwistinandoutagain。
LittlegirlsjustlearningtocrochetborrowedtheirpatternsfromTony’swife，anditwasconsideredquiteamarkofadvancementtohaveherinspectabitoflacedonebyeager，chubbyfingers。Theladiesinlargerhouses，whosehusbandswouldbemillionairessomeday，boughtherlace，andgaveittotheirservantsforChristmaspresents。
AsforTony，whenshewasslowinopeninghisoystersorincookinghisredbeansandspaghetti，heroaredather，andprefixedpicturesqueadjectivestoherlace，whichmadeherhideitunderherapronwithafearsomelookinherdulleyes。
Hehatedherinalusty，roaringfashion，asahealthybeefyboyhatesasickcatandtormentsittomadness。Whenshedispleasedhim，hebeather，andknockedherfrailformonthefloor。Thechildrencouldtellwhenthishadhappened。Hereyeswouldbered，andtherewouldbebluemarksonherfaceandneck。"PoorMrs。Tony，"theywouldsay，andnestleclosetoher。Tonydidnotroaratherforpettingthem，perhaps，becausetheyspentmoneyonthemulti—huedcandyinglassjarsontheshelves。
Hermotherappeareduponthesceneonce，andstayedashorttime；
butTonygotdrunkonedayandbeatherbecausesheatetoomuch，andshedisappearedsoonafter。Whenceshecameandwhereshedeparted，noonecouldtell，notevenMrs。Murphy，thePaulinePryandGazetteoftheblock。
Tonyhadgout，andsufferedformanydaysinroaringhelplessness，thewhilehisfoot，boundandswathedinmanyfoldsofredflannel，layonthechairbeforehim。Inproportionashisgoutincreasedandhebawledfrompurephysicaldiscomfort，shebecamelight—hearted，andmovedabouttheshopwithreal，briskcheeriness。Hecouldnothitherthenwithoutsuchpainthatafteroneortwotrialshegaveupindisgust。
Sothedullyearshadpassed，andlifehadgoneonprettymuchthesameforTonyandtheGermanwifeandtheshop。ThechildrencameonSundayeveningstobuythestickcandy，andonweek—daysforcoalandwood。Theservantscametobuyoystersforthelargerhouses，andtogossipoverthecounterabouttheiremployers。Thelittledrywomanknitted，andthebigmanmovedlazilyinandoutinhisredflannelshirt，exchangedpoliticswiththetailornextdoorthroughthewindow，orloungedintoMrs。Murphy’sbaranddrankfiercely。Someofthechildrengrewupandmovedaway，andotherlittlegirlscametobuycandyandeatpinklagniappefishes，andtheshopstillthrived。
OnedayTonywasill，morethanthemummiedfootofgout，orthewheezeofasthma；hemustkeephisbedandsendforthedoctor。
Sheclutchedhisarmwhenhecame，andpulledhimintothetinyroom。
"Isit——isitanythingmuch，doctor？"shegasped。
AEsculapiusshookhisheadaswiselyastheoccasionwouldpermit。Shefollowedhimoutoftheroomintotheshop。
"Doyou——willhegetwell，doctor？"
AEsculapiusbuttoneduphisfrockcoat，smoothedhisshininghat，clearedhisthroat，thenrepliedoracularly，"Madam，heiscompletelyburnedoutinside。Emptyasashell，madam，emptyasashell。Hecannotlive，forhehasnothingtoliveon。"
Asthecobblestonesrattledunderthedoctor’sequipagerollingleisurelyupPrytaniaStreet，Tony’swifesatinherchairandlaughed，——laughedwithaheartyjoyousnessthatliftedthefilmfromthedulleyesanddisclosedasparklebeneath。
Thedreardayswentby，andTonylaylikeaveritableSamsonshornofhisstrength，forhisvoicewassunkentoahoarse，sibilantwhisper，andhisblackeyesgazedfiercelyfromtheshockofhairandbeardaboutawhiteface。Lifewentonprettymuchasbeforeintheshop；thechildrenpausedtoaskhowMr。
Tonywas，andevenhushedthejinglesontheirbellhoopsastheypassedthedoor。Red—headedJimmie，Mrs。Murphy’snephew，didthehardjobs，suchassplittingwoodandliftingcoalfromthebin；andintheintervalsbetweentendingthefallengiantandwaitingonthecustomers，Tony’swifesatinheraccustomedchair，knittingfiercely，withaninscrutablesmileaboutherpurplecompressedmouth。
ThenJohncame，introducinghimself，serpent—wise，intotheEdenofherbosom。
JohnwasTony’sbrother，hugeandblufftoo，butfairandblond，withthebeautyofNorthernItaly。WiththesamelackofracepridewhichTonyhaddisplayedinselectinghisGermanspouse，JohnhadtakenuntohimselfBetty，adaughterofErin，aggressive，powerful，andcross—eyed。Heturnedupnow，havingheardofthisillness，andassumedanairofremarkableauthorityatonce。
Ahuntedlookstoleintothedulleyes，andafterJohnhaddepartedwithblusteringdirectionsastoTony’swelfare，shecrepttohisbedsidetimidly。
"Tony，"shesaid，——"Tony，youareverysick。"
Aninarticulategrowlwastheonlyresponse。
"Tony，yououghttoseethepriest；youmustn’tgoanylongerwithouttakingthesacrament。"
Thegrowldeepenedintowords。
"Don’twantanypriest；you’realwaysaftersomesnivellingoldwoman’sfuss。YouandMrs。Murphygoonwithyourchurch；itwon’tmakeYOUanybetter。"
Sheshiveredunderthispartingshot，andcreptbackintotheshop。Stillthepriestcamenextday。
Shefollowedhimintothebedsideandknelttimidly。
"Tony，"shewhispered，"here’sFatherLeblanc。"
Tonywastoolanguidtocurseoutloud；heonlyexpressedhishateinatossoftheblackbeardandshaggymane。
"Tony，"shesaidnervously，"won’tyoudoitnow？Itwon’ttakelong，anditwillbebetterforyouwhenyougo——Oh，Tony，don’t——don’tlaugh。Please，Tony，here’sthepriest。"
ButtheTitanroaredaloud："No；getout。ThinkI’ma—goingtogiveyouachancetograbmymoneynow？Letmedieandgotohellinpeace。"
FatherLeblanckneltmeeklyandprayed，andthewoman’sweakpleadingscontinued，——
"Tony，I’vebeentrueandgoodandfaithfultoyou。Don’tdieandleavemenobetterthanbefore。Tony，Idowanttobeagoodwomanonce，areal—for—truemarriedwoman。Tony，here’sthepriest；sayyes。"Andshewrungherringlesshands。
"Youwantmymoney，"saidTony，slowly，"andyousha’n’thaveit，notacent；Johnshallhaveit。"
FatherLeblancshrankawaylikeafadingspectre。Hecamenextdayandnextday，onlytoseere—enactedthesamepiteousscene，——thewomanpleadingtobemadeawifeeredeathhushedTony’sblasphemies，themanchucklinginpain—rackedgleeattheprospectofherbereavedmisery。NotalltheprayersofFatherLeblancnorthewailingsofMrs。Murphycouldalterthedeterminationofthewillbeneaththeshockofhair；hegloatedinhisphysicalweaknessatthetenaciousgrasponhismentality。
"Tony，"shewailedonthelastday，hervoicerisingtoashriekinitseagerness，"tellthemI’myourwife；it’llbethesame。
Onlysayit，Tony，beforeyoudie!"
Heraisedhishead，andturnedstiffeyesandgibberingmouthonher；then，withonechillfingerpointingatJohn，fellbackdullyandheavily。
TheyburiedhimwithmanyhonoursbytheSocietyofItalia’sSons。Johntookpossessionoftheshopwhentheyreturnedhome，andfoundthemoneyhiddeninthechimneycorner。
AsforTony’swife，sinceshewasnothiswifeafterall，theysentherforthintheworldpenniless，herwornfingersclutchingherbundleofclothesinnervousagitation，asthoughtheyregrettedthetimelostfromknitting。
THEFISHERMANOFPASSCHRISTIAN
TheswiftbreezesonthebeachatPassChristianmeetandconflictasthougheachstroveforthemasteryoftheair。Theland—breezeblowsdownthroughthepines，resinous，fragrant，cold，bringingbreath—likememoriesofdim，darkwoodsshadedbymyriadpine—needles。ThebreezefromtheGulfiswarmandsoftandlanguorous，blowingupfromthesouthwithitssuggestionoftropicalwarmthandpassion。Itisstrongandmasterful，andtossedAnnette’shairandwhippedherskirtsaboutherinbolddisregardfortheproprieties。
ArminarmwithPhilip，shewasstrollingslowlydownthegreatpierwhichextendsfromtheMexicanGulfHotelintothewatersoftheSound。Therewasnomoonto—night，buttheskyglitteredandscintillatedwithmyriadstars，brighterthanyoucaneverseefartherNorth，andthegreatwavesthattheGulfbreezetossedupinrestlessprofusiongleamedwiththewhitefireofphosphorescentflame。Thewetsandsonthebeachglowedwhitefire；thepostsofthepierwherethewaveshadleaptandleftalaughingkiss，thesidesofthelittleboatsandfish—carstuggingattheirropes，alikeshowedwhiteandflaming，asthoughtheseaandallittouchedwereafire。
AnnetteandPhilippausedmidwaythepiertowatchtwofishermencastingtheirnets。Withheadsbaredtothebreeze，theystoodinclearsilhouetteagainstthewhitebackgroundofsea。
"Seehowheuseshisteeth，"almostwhisperedAnnette。
Drawinghimselfuptohisfullheight，withoneendofthehugeseinebetweenhisteeth，andthecordinhislefthand，thetallerfishermanofthetwopausedahalfinstant，hisrightarmextended，graspingthefoldsofthenet。Therewasaswishingrushthroughtheair，anditsettledwithasortofsobasitcutthewatersandstruckamillionsparklesoffirefromthewaves。
Then，withbacksbendingunderthestrain，thetwomenswungonthecord，drawinginthenet，ladenwithglitteringrestlessfish，whichwereunceremoniouslydumpedontheboardstobeputintothefish—carawaitingthem。
Philiplaughinglypickedupasoft，gleamingjelly—fish，andthreatenedtoputitonAnnette’sneck。Shescreamed，ran，slippedonthewetboards，andinanotherinstantwouldhavefallenoverintothewaterbelow。Thetallfishermancaughtherinhisarmsandsetheronherfeet。
"Mademoisellemustbeverycareful，"hesaidinthesoftestandmostcorrectFrench。"Thetideisinandthewaterveryrough。
Itwouldbeverydifficulttoswimoutthereto—night。"
Annettemurmuredconfusedthanks，whichweresupplementedbyPhilip’sheartytones。Shewassilentuntiltheyreachedthepavilionattheendofthepier。Thesemi—darknesswasunrelievedbylanternorlight。Thestrongwindwaftedthestrainsfromacoupleofmandolins，aguitar，andatenorvoicestationedinonecornertosundryengrossedcouplesinsundryothercorners。Philipfoundanuntenantednookandtheyensconcedthemselvestherein。
"Doyouknowthere’ssomethingmysteriousaboutthatfisherman？"
saidAnnette，duringalullinthewind。
"Becausehedidnotletyougoover？"inquiredPhilip。
"No；hespokecorrectly，andwiththeaccentthatgoesonlywithanexcellenteducation。"
Philipshruggedhisshoulders。"That’snothingremarkable。IfyoustayaboutPassChristianforanylengthoftime，you’llfindmorethingsthanperfectFrenchandcourtlygraceamongfishermentosurpriseyou。TheseareawonderfulpeoplewholiveacrosstheLake。"
Annettewaslollinginthehammockunderthebigcatalpa—treesomedayslater，whenthegateopened，andNatalie’sbigsun—bonnetappeared。Natalieherselfwasdiscoveredblushinginitsdaintydepths。ShewasonlyalittleCreoleseasidegirl，youmustknow，andveryshyofthecitydemoiselles。Natalie’spatoiswasquiteasdifferentfromAnnette’sFrenchasitwasfromthepostmaster’sEnglish。
"MeesAnnette，"shebegan，peony—huedalloveratherownboldness，"wewillhaveonelil’hay—ridethisnight，andafish—fryattheend。Willyoucome？"
Annettesprangtoherfeetindelight。"WillIcome？Certainly。
Howdelightful!Youaresogoodtoaskme。Whatshall——whattime——"ButNatalie’spinkbonnethadfledprecipitatelydowntheshadedwalk。AnnettelaughedjoyouslyasPhiliploungeddownthegallery。
"Ifrightenedthechildaway，"shetoldhim。
You’veneverbeenforahay—rideandfish—fryontheshoresoftheMississippiSound，haveyou？WhenthesummerboardersandtheNorthernvisitorsundertaketogiveone，itisacomparativelystaidaffair，wheredueregardishadforone’swearingapparel，andwherethereareservantstodothehardestwork。Thenitisn’tenjoyableatall。Butwhenthenatives，theboysandgirlswholivethere，makeuptheirmindstohavefun，youmaydependuponitsbeingjustthebestkind。
Thistimethereweretwentyboysandgirls，amammaorso，severalpapas，andagrizzledfishermantorestraintheardoroftheamateurs。Thecartwasvastandsolid，andtwocomfortable，sleepy—lookingmulesconstitutedthedrawingpower。Therewerealsotinhorns，someguitars，anaccordion，andaquartetofmuchpraisedvoices。Thehayinthebottomofthewagonwasfreelymixedwithpineneedles，whoseprickinessthroughyourhosewasamplycompensatedforbyitsdeliciousfragrance。
AfteratriumphantlynoisypassagedownthebeachonecomestothestretchofheavysandthatliesbetweenPassChristianproperandHenderson’sPoint。Thisisahardpullforthemules，andthemoreambitiousridersgetoutandwalk。Then，afterafinalstrainthroughtheshiftingsands，bravo!theshellroadisreached，andonegoescheeringthroughthepine—treestoHenderson’sPoint。
IfeveryougotoPassChristian，youmusthaveafish—fryatHenderson’sPoint。Itisthepine—thicketed，white—beachedpeninsulajuttingoutfromtheland，withonesidecaressedbythewatersoftheSoundandtheotherpurredoverbythebluewavesoftheBayofSt。Louis。Hereisthebeginningofthegreatthree—miletrestlebridgetothetownofBaySt。Louis，andto—nightfromthebeachcouldbeseenthelightsofthevillasglitteringacrosstheBaylikemyriadsofunsleepingeyes。
Hereuponafirmstretchofwhitesandcampedthemerry—makers。
Soonagreatfireofdriftwoodandpineconestosseditsflamesdefiantlyataradiantmooninthesky，andthefisherswerecastingtheirnetsinthesea。Themoredaringofthegirlswadedbare—leggedinthewater，holdingpine—torches，spearingfloundersandpeeringforsoft—shellcrabs。
Annettehadwanderedfartherintheshallowwaterthantherest。
Suddenlyshestumbledagainstastone，thetorchdroppedandsplutteredatherfeet。Withalittlehelplesscryshelookedatthestretchofunfamiliarbeachandwatertofindherselfallalone。
"Pardonme，mademoiselle，"saidavoiceatherelbow；"youareindistress？"
Itwasherfisherman，andwithascarceconscioussighofrelief，Annetteputherhandintotheoutstretchedoneatherside。
"Iwaslookingforsoftshells，"sheexplained，"andlostthecrowd，andnowmytorchisout。"
"Whereisthecrowd？"Therewassomeamusementinthetone，andAnnetteglancedupquickly，preparedtobethoroughlyindignantatthisfishermanwhodaredmakefunather；buttherewassuchakindlylookabouthismouththatshewasreassuredandsaidmeekly，——
"AtHenderson’sPoint。"
"Youhavewanderedahalf—mileaway，"hemused，"andhavenothingtoshowforyourpainsbutverywetskirts。Ifmademoisellewillpermitme，Iwilltakehertoherfriends，butallowmetosuggestthatmademoisellewillleavethewaterandwalkonthesands。"
"ButIambarefoot，"wailedAnnette，"andIamafraidofthefiddlers。"
Fiddlercrabs，youknow，aren’tpleasantthingstobedanglingaroundone’sbarefeet，andtheyaremorenumerousthansandfleasdownatHenderson’sPoint。
"True，"assentedthefisherman；"thenweshallhavetowadeback。"
ThefishingwasoverwhentheyroundedthepointandcameinsightofthecheerybonfirewithitsRembrandt—likegroup，andtheairwassavourywiththesmelloffryingfishandcrabs。Thefishermanwasnottobetemptedbyappealstostay，butsmilinglydisappeareddownthesands，theredglareofhistorchmakingaglowingtrackinthewater。
"Ah，MeesAnnette，"whisperedNatalie，betweenmouthfulsofarichcroaker，"youhavefoundabeauinthewater。"
"AndthefishermanofthePass，too，"laughedhercousinIda。
Annettetossedherhead，forPhiliphadgrowledaudibly。
"Doyouknow，Philip，"criedAnnetteafewdaysafter，rudelyshakinghimfromhissiestaonthegallery，——"doyouknowthatI
havefoundmyfisherman’shut？"
"Hum，"wastheonlyresponse。
"Yes，andit’sthequaintest，mostdelightfulspotimaginable。
Philip，docomewithmeandseeit。"
"Hum。"
"Oh，Philip，youaresolazy；docomewithme。"
"Yes，but，mydearAnnette，"protestedPhilip，"thisisawarmday，andIamtired。"
Still，hiscuriositybeingaroused，hewentgrumbling。Itwasnotaverylongdrive，backfromthebeachacrosstherailroadandthroughthepineforesttothebankofadark，slow—flowingbayou。Thefisherman’shutwassmall，two—roomed，whitewashed，pine—boarded，withthetraditionalmudchimneyactingasasortofsupporttooneofitsunevensides。Withinwasaweirdassortmentofcuriosfromeveryuncivilizedpartoftheglobe。
Alsoweretherefishing—tackleandgunsinrecklessprofusion。
Thefisherman，inthekitchenofthemud—chimney，wassardonicallywagingwarwithabasketoflittlebayoucrabs。
"Entrez，mademoiselleetmonsieur，"hesaidpleasantly，grabbingaviciouscrabbyitsflippers，andsmilingatitswildattemptstobite。"YouseeIambusy，butmakeyourselfathome。"
"Well，howonearth——"beganPhilip。
"Sh——sh——"whisperedAnnette。"Iwasdrivingoutinthewoodsthismorning，andstumbledonthehut。Heaskedmein，butIcamerightoverafteryou。"
Thefisherman，havingsucceededingettingthelastcrabinthekettleofboilingwater，cameforwardsmilingandbegantoexplainthecurios。
"ThenyouhavenotalwayslivedatPassChristian，"saidPhilip。
"Maisnon，monsieur，Iamspendingasummerhere。"
"Andhespendshiswinters，doubtless，sellingfishintheFrenchmarket，"spitefullysoliloquisedPhilip。
ThefishermanwaslookingunutterablethingsintoAnnette’seyes，and，itseemedtoPhilip，takinganunconscionablylongtimeexplainingtheuseofanEastIndianstiletto。
"Oh，wouldn’titbedelightful!"camefromAnnetteatlast。
"What？"askedPhilip。
"Why，MonsieurLeContesayshe’lltakesixofusoutinhiscatboattomorrowforafishing—tripontheGulf。"
"Hum，"drily。
"AndI’llgetNatalieandhercousins。"
"Yes，"stillmoredrily。
Annettechatteredon，entirelyobliviousofthestrainednessofthemen’sadieux，andstillchatteredastheydrovethroughthepines。
"Ididnotknowthatyouweregoingtotakefishermenandmarchandsintothebosomofyoursocialsetwhenyoucamehere，"
growledPhilip，atlast。
"But，CousinPhil，can’tyouseeheisagentleman？Thefactthathemakesnoexcusesorprotestationsisaproof。"
"Youareafool，"wasthepoliteresponse。
Still，atsixo’clocknextmorning，therewasalittlecrowdofsevenuponthepier，laughingandchattingatthelittle"Virginie"dippingherbowsinthewaterandflappinghersailsinthebriskwind。Natalie’spinkbonnetblushedintheearlysunshine，andNatalie’smamma，comelyandportly，didchaperonageduty。ItwasnotlongbeforethesailsgaveswellintothebreezeandthelittleboatscurriedtotheSound。Pastthelighthouseonitsgawkyironstalls，sheflew，andnowroundedthewhitesandsofCatIsland。
"Bravo，theGulf!"sangavoiceonthelookout。Thelittleboatdipped，haltedaninstant，thenrushedfastintotheblueGulfwaters。
"Wewillanchorhere，"saidthehost，"haveluncheon，andfish。"
PhilipcouldnotexactlyunderstandwhythefishermanshouldsitsoclosetoAnnetteandwhispersomuchintoherears。Hechafedatheractingthepartofhostess，andwaspossessedofamurderousdesiretothrowthepinksun—bonnetanditsownerintothesea，whenNataliewhisperedaudiblytooneofhercousinsthat"MeesAnnetteactnicewit’herlovare。"
Thesunwasbankingupflamingpillarsofroseandgoldinthewestwhenthelittle"Virginie"roundedCatIslandonherwayhome，andthequickSoutherntwilightwasfastdyingintodarknesswhenshewastieduptothepierandthemerry—makerssprangoffwithbasketsoffish。Annettehaddistinguishedherselfbycatchingonesmallshark，andhadimmediatelyceasedtofishanddevotedherattentiontoherfishermanandhisline。
Philiphadangledfiercely，landingtrout，croakers，sheepshead，snappersinbewilderingluck。Hehadbrokeneachhopelesscaptive’snecksavagely，asthoughtheywerepersonalenemies。
Hedidnotlookhappyastheylanded，thoughpaeansofpraisewerebeingsunginhishonour。
Asthedayspassedon，"thefishermanofthePass"begantodanceattendanceonAnnette。Whathadseemedajokebecameserious。
AuntNina，urgedbyPhilip，remonstrated，andeventhemammaofthepinksunbonnetbegantolookgrave。Itwasallverywellforacitydemoiselletotalkwithafishermanandacceptfavoursathishands，providedthatthecitydemoiselleunderstoodthatavastandbridgelessgulfstretchedbetweenherandthefisherman。
Butwhenthedemoiselleforgotthegulfandthefishermanrefusedtorecogniseit，why，itwastimetotakemattersinhand。
ToallofAuntNina’sremonstrances，Philip’sgrowlings，andtheavertedglancesofhercompanions，Annettewasdeaf。"Youarenarrow—minded，"shesaidlaughingly。"IaminterestedinMonsieurLeContesimplyasastudy。Heisentertaining；hetalkswellofhistravels，andasforrefusingtorecognisethedifferencebetweenus，why，heneverdreamedofsuchathing。"
SuddenlyaperemptorysummonshomefromAnnette’sfatherputanendtothefearsofPhilip。Annettepouted，butpapamustbeobeyed。SheblamedPhilipandAuntNinafortellingtales，butAuntNinawasuncommunicative，andPhiliptooobviouslycheerfultoderivemuchsatisfactionfrom。
Thatnightshewalkedwiththefishermanhandinhandonthesands。Thewindfromthepinesborethescarcelyrecognisable，subtlefreshnessofearlyautumn，andthewatershadahintofdyingsummerintheirsobonthebeach。
"Youwillremember，"saidthefisherman，"thatIhavetoldyounothingaboutmyself。"
"Yes，"murmuredAnnette。
"Andyouwillkeepyourpromisestome？"
"Yes。"
"Letmehearyourepeatthemagain。"
"IpromiseyouthatIwillnotforgetyou。IpromiseyouthatI
willneverspeakofyoutoanyoneuntilIseeyouagain。I
promisethatIwillthenclaspyourhandwhereveryoumaybe。"
"Andmademoisellewillnotbediscouraged，butwillcontinueherstudies？"
"Yes。"
Itwasallveryromantic，bythewavesoftheSound，underaharvestmoon，thatseemedallsympathyforthesetwo，despitethefactthatitwasprobablylookingdownuponhundredsofotherequallyromanticcouples。Annettewenttobedwithglowingcheeks，andaheartwhosepulsationswouldhavecausedaphysiciantoprescribeunlimiteddigitalis。
ItwasstillhotinNewOrleanswhenshereturnedhome，anditseemedhardtogoimmediatelytowork。Butifoneisgoingtobeanopera—singersomedayandcapturetheworldwithone’svoice，thereisnothingtodobuttostudy，study，sing，practise，eventhoughone’sthroatbeparched，one’sheadagreatache，andone’sheartanestofdiscouragementandsadnessatwhatseemstheuselessnessofitall。Annettehadnowanewincentivetowork；thefishermanhadoncepraisedhervoicewhenshehummedabarcaroleonthesands，andhehadinsistedthattherewaspowerinitsrichnotes。Thoughthefishermanhadshowednocausewhyheshouldbeacceptedasamusicalcritic，Annettehadsomehowrespectedhisjudgmentandbeenaccordinglyelated。
Itwasthenightoftheopeningoftheopera。Therewastheusualcrush，theglitterandconfusingradianceofthebrilliantaudience。Annette，withpapa，AuntNina，andPhilip，waslatereachingherbox。Thecurtainwasup，and"LaJuive"waspouringforthdefianceatherangrypersecutors。Annettelistenedbreathlessly。Infancy，shetoowasringinghervoiceouttoanapplaudinghouse。Herheadunconsciouslybeattimetothemusic，andonehandhalfheldhercloakfromherbareshoulders。
ThenEleazarappeared，andthehouseroseattheendofhissong。
Encoresitgave，andbravosandcheers。Hebowedcalmly，swepthiseyesoverthetiersuntiltheyfoundAnnette，wheretheyrestedinahalf—smileofrecognition。
"Philip，"gaspedAnnette，nervouslyraisingherglasses，"myfisherman!"
"Yes，anopera—singerisbetterthanamarchand，"drawledPhilip。
Thecurtainfellonthefirstact。Thehousewaswonbythenewtenor；itcalledandrecalledhimbeforethecurtain。Clearlyhehadsunghiswayintotheheartsofhisaudienceatonce。
"Papa，AuntNina，"saidAnnette，"youmustcomebehindthesceneswithme。Iwantyoutomeethim。Heisdelightful。Youmustcome。"
Philipwasbendingostentatiouslyoverthegirlinthenextbox。
PapaandAuntNinaconsentedtobedraggedbehindthescenes。
Annettewaswellknown，for，inhopesofsomedaybeinganoccupantofoneofthedressing—rooms，shehadmadefriendswitheveryoneconnectedwiththeopera。
Eleazarreceivedthem，stillwearinghisbrowngarbandpatriarchalbeard。
"Howyoudeceivedme!"shelaughed，whenthegreetingsandintroductionswereover。
"IcametoAmericaearly，"hesmiledbackather，"andthoughtI’dtryalittleincognitoatthePass。Iwasnotwell，yousee。
Ithasbeenofgreatbenefittome。"
"Ikeptmypromise，"shesaidinalowertone。
"Thankyou；thatalsohashelpedme。"
Annette’steacherbegantonoteawonderfulimprovementinhispupil’svoice。Neverdidagirlstudysohardorpractisesofaithfully。Itwastrulywonderful。NowandthenAnnettewouldsaytopapaasiftoreassureherself，——
"AndwhenMonsieurCherbartsaysIamreadytogotoParis，Imaygo，papa？"
Andpapawouldsaya"Certainly"thatwouldsendherbacktothepianowithrenewedardour。
AsforMonsieurLeConte，hewastheidolofNewOrleans。Seldomhadtherebeenatenorwhohadsunghimselfsocompletelyintotheveryheartsofapopulace。Whenhewasbilled，theoperadisplayed"StandingRoom"signs，nomatterwhattheotherattractionsinthecitymightbe。SometimesMonsieurLeContedelightedsmallaudiencesinAnnette’sparlour，whenthehostesswasinaperfectflutterofhappiness。Notoften，youknow，fortheleadingtenorwasingreatdemandatthehomesofsocietyqueens。
"Doyouknow，"saidAnnette，petulantly，oneevening，"IwishfortheolddaysatPassChristian。"
"SodoI，"heansweredtenderly；"willyourepeatthemwithmenextsummer？"
"IfIonlycould!"shegasped。
Stillshemighthavebeenhappy，haditnotbeenforMadameDubeau，——MadameDubeau，theflute—voicedleadingsoprano，whoworethesingledaintycurlonherforehead，andthrilledheraudiencesoftentimesmorecompletelythanthefisherman。MadameDubeauwasLaJuivetohisEleazar，LeonoretohisManfred，ElsatohisLohengrin，AidatohisRhadames，MargueritetohisFaust；
inbrief，MadameDubeauwashisopposite。ShecaressedhimasMignon，pleadedwithhimasMichaela，diedforhimin"LesHuguenots，"brokeherheartforloveofhimin"LaFavorite。"
Howcouldhehelpbutloveher，Annetteaskedherself，howcouldhe？MadameDubeauwasbeautifulandgiftedandcharming。
Onceshewhisperedherfearstohimwhentherewasthemeagrestbitofanopportunity。Helaughed。"Youdon’tunderstand，littleone，"hesaidtenderly；"therelationsofprofessionalpeopletoeachotherarepeculiar。AfteryougotoParis，youwillknow。"
Still，NewOrleanshadbuiltupitsromance，andgossipedaccordingly。
"Haveyouheardthenews？"whisperedLolatoAnnette，leaningfromherboxattheoperaonenight。Thecurtainhadjustgoneupon"Herodias，"andforsomereasonorother，theaudienceapplaudedwithmorewarmththanusual。Therewasanoticeablenumberofgood—humoured，benignantsmilesonthefacesoftheapplauders。
"No，"answeredAnnette，breathlessly，——"no，indeed，Lola；IamgoingtoParisnextweek。IamsodelightedIcan’tstoptothink。"
"Yes，thatisexcellent，"saidLola，"butallNewOrleansissmilingattheromance。MonsieurLeConteandMadameDubeauwerequietlymarriedlastnight，butitleakedoutthisafternoon。
Seealltheapplauseshe’sreceiving!"
Annetteleanedbackinherchair，verywhiteandstill。Herboxwasemptyafterthefirstact，andaquietlittletiredvoicethatwasalmosttoofainttobeheardinthecarriageonthewayhome，said——
"Papa，Idon’tthinkIcaretogotoParis，afterall。"
M’SIEUFORTIER’SVIOLIN
Slowly，onebyone，thelightsintheFrenchOperagoout，untilthereisbutasingleglimmerofpaleyellowflickeringinthegreatdarkspace，afewmomentsagoalla—glitterwithjewelsandtheradianceofwomanhoodanda—clashwithmusic。Darknessnow，andsilence，andagreathauntedhushoverall，saveforthedistantcheeryvoiceofastagehandhummingabaroftheopera。
Theglimmerofgasmakesahaloaboutthebowedwhiteheadofalittleoldmanputtinghisviolincarefullyawayinitscasewithaged，trembling，nervousfingers。OldM’sieuFortierwasthelastoneouteverynight。
Outsidetheairwasmurky，foggy。Gasandelectricitywerebutfaintsplotchesoflightonthethickcurtainoffogandmist。
Aroundtheoperawasamightybustleofcarriagesanddriversandfootmen，withacargainingheadwayinthestreetnowandthen，ahowlingofnamesandnumbers，thelaughterandsmalltalkofcloakedsocietysteppingslowlytoitscarriages，andthemorebourgeoisievocalisationofthefootpassengerswhostreamedalongandhummedlittlebitsofmusic。Thefog’sdensenesswasconfusing，too，andatonemomentitseemedthatthelittlenarrowstreetwouldbecomeinextricablychokedandremainsountilsomemightyenginewouldblowthecrowdintoatoms。Ithadbeenacrowdednight。FromaroundToulouseStreet，whereledtheentrancetothetroisiemes，fromthegrandstairway，fromtheentrancetothequatriemes，thehumanstreampouredintothestreet，nearlyallwithasongontheirlips。
M’sieuFortierstoodatthecorner，blinkingatthebeautifulladiesintheircarriages。Heexchangedaheartysalutationwiththesaloon—keeperatthecorner，then，tenderlycarryinghisviolincase，hetrudgeddownBourbonStreet，alittleold，bent，witheredfigure，withshouldersshruggeduptokeepwarm，asthoughthefadedbrownovercoatwerenotthickenough。
DownonBayouRoad，notsofarfromClaiborneStreet，wasahouse，littleandoldandqueer，butquitelargeenoughtoholdM’sieuFortier，awrinkleddame，andawhitecat。Hewashomebutlittle，foronnearlyeverydaytherewererehearsals；thenonTuesday，Thursday，andSaturdaynights，andtwiceSundaystherewereperformances，soMa’amJeanneandthewhitecatkepthousealmostalwaysalone。Then，whenM’sieuFortierwasathome，why，itwaspractice，practicealltheday，andsmoke，snore，sleepatnight。Altogetheritwasnotveryexhilarating。
M’sieuFortierhadplayedfirstviolinintheorchestraeversince——well，noonerememberedhisnotplayingthere。Sometimestherewouldcomebreaksintheseasons，andforayearthegreatbuildingwouldbedarkandsilent。ThenM’sieuFortierwoulddojobsofplayinghereandthere，onenightforthisball，anothernightforthatsoireedansante，andintheday，workathistrade，——thatofacigar—maker。Butnowforsevenyearstherehadbeennobreakintheseason，andthelittleoldviolinistwashappy。Thereisnothingsweeterthanaregularjobandgoodmusictoplay，musicintowhichonecanputsomesoul，someexpression，andwhichonemuststudytounderstand。Dancemusic，ofthefrivolous，frothykinddeemedessentialtosoirees，istrivial，easy，uninteresting。
SoM’sieuFortier，Ma’amJeanne，andthewhitecatlivedapeaceful，uneventfulexistenceoutonBayouRoad。WhentheoperaseasonwasoverinFebruary，M’sieuwentbacktocigar—making，andthewhitecatpurrednonethelesscontentedly。
Ithadbeenabenefitto—nightfortheleadingtenor，andhehadchosen"RolandaRonceveaux，"afavouritethisseason，forhisfarewell。And，monDieu，musedthelittleM’sieu，buthowhisvoicehadrungoutbell—like，piercingabovethechorusofthefirstact!Encoreafterencorewasgiven，andthebravosofthetroisiemeswereenoughtostirthemostsluggishofpulses。
"SuperbesPyreneesQuidressezdansleciel，VoscimescouronneesD’unhivereternelle，PournouslivrerpassageOuvrezvoslargesflancs，Faitesfairel’orage，Voici，venirlesFrancs!"
M’sieuquickenedhispacedownBourbonStreetashesangthechorustohimselfinathinoldvoice，andthen，beforehecouldseeinthethickfog，hehadrunintotwoyoungmen。
"I——I——begyourpardon，——messieurs，"hestammered。
"Mostcertainly，"wasthecarelessresponse；thenthespeaker，takingasecondglanceattheobjectoftherencontre，criedjoyfully：
"Oh，M’sieuFortier，isityou？Why，youaresohappy，singingyourlovesonnettoyourlady’seyebrow，thatyoudidn’tseeathingbutthemoon，didyou？Andwhoisthefaironewhoshouldclogyoursensesso？"
Therewasadeprecatingshrugfromthelittleman。
"Mafoi，butmonsieurmustknowfo’sho’，datIamtoooldforlovesongs!"
"IknownothingsavethatIwantthatviolinofyours。Whenisittobemine，M’sieuFortier？"
"Nevare，nevare!"exclaimedM’sieu，grippingonastightlytothecaseasifhefeareditmightbewrenchedfromhim。"Mealovere，andtosellmonviolon!Ah，sover’foolish!"
"Martel，"saidthefirstspeakertohiscompanionastheymovedonuptown，"IwishyouknewthatlittleFrenchman。He’sauniquespecimen。HehasthemostexquisiteviolinI’veseeninyears；beautifulandmellowasagenuineCremona，andhecanmakethemusicleap，sing，laugh，sob，skip，wail，anythingyoulikefromunderhisbowwhenhewishes。It’ssomethingwonderful。Wearegoodfriends。PickedhimupinmyFrench—townrambles。I’vebeentryingtobuythatinstrumentsince——"
"Tothrowitasideaweeklater？"lazilyinquiredMartel。"Youareliketherestofthesenineteenth—centuryvandals，youcanseenothingpicturesquethatyoudonotwishtodefaceforasouvenir；youcannotevenletsimplehappinessalone，butmustneedsdestroyitinavainattempttomakeityourownorparadeitasanadvertisement。"
AsforM’sieuFortier，hewentrightonwithhissongandturnedintoBayouRoad，hisshouldersstillshruggedhighasthoughhewerecold，andintothequaintlittlehouse，whereMa’amJeanneandthewhitecat，whoalwayswaitedupforhimatnights，werebothnoddingoverthefire。
Itwasnotlongafterthisthattheoperaclosed，andM’sieuwentbacktohisoldout—of—seasonjob。Butsomehowhedidnotdoaswellthisspringandsummerasalways。Thereisacertainamountofcunningandfinesserequiredtorollacigarjustso，thatM’sieuseemedtobelosing，whetherfromageordeteriorationitwashardtotell。Nevertheless，therewasjustabouthalfasmuchmoneycominginasformerly，andthequaintlittlepuckerbetweenM’sieu’seyebrowswhichservedforafrowncameoftenerandstayedlongerthaneverbefore。
"Minesse，"hesaidonedaytothewhitecat，——hetoldallhistroublestoher；itwasofnousetotalktoMa’amJeanne，shewastoodeaftounderstand，——"Minesse，wearegettin’po’。You’
peregith’old，an’heeshan’sdeygonomo’rapidement，an’derebenomo’soireesdeseday。Minesse，eeflasaisondon’hurryup，weshalleatver’lil’meat。"
AndMinessecurledhertailandpurred。
返回顶部