"Mafoi，"saidtheslatternlylandladytoMadameLaurentandMicheloneday，"Inoseehowshelive!Eat？Nothin’，nothin’，almos’，andlas’nightwhenitwassocoldandfoggy，eh？Ihav’
tomekhimbuildfire。Shemos’freeze。"
WhereupontherumourspreadthatMissSophiewasstarvingherselftodeathtogetsomelucklessrelativeoutofjailforChristmas；
arumourwhichenvelopedherscraggylittlefigurewithakindofhalototheneighbourswhensheappearedonthestreets。
NovemberhadmergedintoDecember，andthelittlepileofcoinswasyetfarfromthesumneeded。DearGod!howthemoneydidhavetogo!Therentandthegroceriesandthecoal，though，tobesure，sheusedapreciousbitofthat。Wouldalltheworkandsavingandskimpingdogood？Maybe，yes，maybebyChristmas。
ChristmasEveonRoyalStreetisnoplaceforaweakling，fortheshoutsandcarouselsoftheroistererswillstrikefearintothebravestones。Yetamidthecriesandyells，thedeafeningblowofhornsandtinwhistles，andthereallydangerousfusilladeoffireworks，alittlefigurehurriedalong，onehandclutchingtightlythebatteredhatthattherudemerry—makershadtornoff，theothergraspingunderthethinblackcapeawornlittlepocketbook。
IntotheMontdePietesheranbreathless，eager。Theticket？
Here，worn，crumpled。Thering？Itwasnotgone？No，thankHeaven!Itwasajoywellworthhertoil，shethought，tohaveitagain。
HadTitichenotbeenshootingcrackersonthebanquetteinsteadofpeeringintothecrack，aswashiswont，hisbig，roundblackeyeswouldhavegrownsaucer—widetoseelittleMissSophiekissandfondlearing，anuglyclumsybandofgold。
"Ah，dearring，"shemurmured，"onceyouwerehis，andyoushallbehisagain。Youshallbeonhisfinger，andperhapstouchhisheart。Dearring，macherepetitedemacoeur，cheriedemacoeur。Jet’aime，jet’aime，oui，oui。Youarehis；youweremineoncetoo。To—night，justonenight，I’llkeepyou——then——to—morrow，youshallgowhereyoucansavehim。"
Theloudwhistlesandhornsofthelittleonesroseonthebalmyairnextmorning。NoonewoulddoubtitwasChristmasDay，evenifdoorsandwindowswereopenwidetoletincoolair。Why，therewasChristmasevenintheverylookofthemulesonthepokycars；therewasChristmasnoiseinthestreets，andChristmastoysandChristmasodours，savouryonesthatmadethenosewrinkleapprovingly，issuingfromthekitchen。MichelandMadameLaurentsmiledgreetingsacrossthestreetateachother，andthesalutationfromapasser—byrecalledthemany—progeniedlandladytoherself。
"MissSophie，well，po’soul，notver’muchChris’masforher。
Mais，I’lljus’callhiminfo’tospen’thedaywithme。Eet’llcheerherabit。"
Itwassocleanandorderlywithinthepoorlittleroom。Notaspeckofdustoralitterofanykindonthequaintlittleold—timehighbureau，unlessyoumightexceptasheetofpaperlyingloosewithsomethingwrittenonit。Titichehadevidentlyinheritedhispryingpropensities，forthelandladyturneditoverandread，——
LOUIS，——Hereisthering。Ireturnittoyou。Iheardyouneededit。Ihopeitcomesnottoolate。SOPHIE。
"Thering，where？"mutteredthelandlady。Thereitwas，claspedbetweenherfingersonherbosom，——abosomwhiteandcold，underacoldhappyface。ChristmashadindeeddawnedforMissSophie。
SISTERJOSEPHA
SisterJosephatoldherbeadsmechanically，herfingersnumbwiththeaccustomedexercise。Thelittleorgancreakedadismal"O
Salutaris，"andshestillkneltonthefloor，herwhite—bonnetedheadnoddingsuspiciously。TheMotherSuperiorgaveasharpglanceatthetiredfigure；then，asasuddenlurchforwardbroughtthelittlesisterbacktoconsciousness，Mother’seyesrelaxedintoagenuinesmile。
Thebelltolledtheendofvespers，andthesombre—robednunsfiledoutofthechapeltogoabouttheireveningduties。LittleSisterJosepha’sworkwastoattendtothehouseholdlamps，buttheremusthavebeenasmuchoilspilleduponthetableto—nightaswasputinthevessels。Thesmallbrownhandstrembledsothatmostofthewicksweretrimmedwithpointsatonecornerwhichcausedthemtosmokethatnight。
"Oh，cherSeigneur，"shesighed，givinganimpatientpolishtoarefractorychimney，"itiswickedandsinful，Iknow，butIamsotired。Ican’tbehappyandsinganymore。Itdoesn’tseemrightforlebonDieutohavemeallcoopedupherewithnothingtoseebutstrayvisitors，andalwaysthesameoldwork，teachingthosemeanlittlegirlstosew，andwashingandfillingthesameoldlamps。Pah!"Andshepolishedthechimneywithasuddenvigorousjerkwhichthreateneddestruction。
Theywererebelliousprayersthattheredmouthmurmuredthatnight，andarestlessfigurethattossedontheharddormitorybed。SisterDominicacalledfromhercouchtoknowifSisterJosephawereill。
"No，"wasthesomewhatshortresponse；thenamuttered，"Whycan’ttheyletmealoneforaminute？Thatpale—eyedSisterDominicaneversleeps；that’swhysheissougly。"
Aboutfifteenyearsbeforethisnightsomeonehadbroughttotheorphanasylumconnectedwiththisconvent，duSacreCoeur，around，dimpledbitofthree—year—oldhumanity，whoregardedtheworldfromapairofgravelytwinklingblackeyes，andonlytookachubbythumboutofarosymouthlongenoughtoanswerinmonosyllabicFrench。Itwasachildwithoutanidentity；therewasbutonenamethatanyoneseemedtoknow，andthat，too，wasvague，——Camille。
Shegrewupwiththerestofthewaifs；scrapsofFrenchandAmericancivilizationthrowntogethertodevelopaseeminglyinconsistentminiatureworld。MademoiselleCamillewasaqueenamongthem，aprettylittletyrantwhoruledthechildrenanddominatedthemoretimidsistersincharge。
Onedayanawakeningcame。Whenshewasfifteen，andalmostfullyripenedintoaglorioustropicalbeautyofthetypethatmaturesearly，somevisitorstotheconventwerefascinatedbyherandaskedtheMotherSuperiortogivethegirlintotheirkeeping。
Camillefledlikeafrightenedfawnintotheyard，andwasonlyunearthedwithsomedifficultyfrombehindagroupofpalms。
Sulkyandpouting，shewasledintotheparlour，pickingatherbluepinaforelikeaspoiledinfant。
"Theladyandgentlemanwishyoutogohomewiththem，Camille，"
saidtheMotherSuperior，inthelanguageoftheconvent。Hervoicewaskindandgentleapparently；butthechild，accustomedtoitsvariousinflections，detectedasteelyringbehinditssoftness，liketheproverbialironhandinthevelvetglove。
"Youmustunderstand，madame，"continuedMother，instiltedEnglish，"thatweneverforcechildrenfromus。Weareevergladtoplacethemincomfortable——howyousaythat？——quarters——maisons——homes——bien!Butwewillnotmakethemgoiftheydonotwish。"
Camillestoleaglanceatherwould—beguardians，anddecidedinstantly，impulsively，finally。Thewomansuitedher；buttheman!Itwasdoubtlessintuitionofthequick，vivacioussortwhichbelongedtoherbloodthatservedher。Untutoredinworldlyknowledge，shecouldnotdivinethemeaningofthepronouncedleersandadmirationofherphysicalcharmswhichgleamedintheman’sface，butsheknewitmadeherfeelcreepy，andstoutlyrefusedtogo。NextdayCamillewassummonedfromatasktotheMotherSuperior’sparlour。Theothergirlsgazedwithenvyuponherasshedasheddownthecourtyardwithimpetuousmovement。Camille，theydecidedcrossly，receivedtoomuchnotice。ItwasCamillethis，Camillethat；shewaspretty，itwastobeexpected。EvenFatherRaylingeredlongerinhisblessingwhenhishandspressedhersilkyblackhair。
Assheenteredtheparlour，astrangechillsweptoverthegirl。
Theroomwasnotanunaccustomedone，forshehadsweptitmanytimes，butto—daythestiffblackchairs，thedismalcrucifixes，thegleamingwhitenessofthewalls，eventhecheaplithographoftheMadonnawhichCamillehadalwaysregardedasaperfectspecimenofart，seemedcoldandmean。
"Camille，machere，"saidMother，"Iamextremelydispleasedwithyou。WhydidyounotwishtogowithMonsieurandMadameLafayeyesterday？"
Thegirluncrossedherhandsfromherbosom，andspreadthemoutinadeprecatinggesture。
"Mais，mamere，Iwasafraid。"
Mother’sfacegrewstern。"Nofoolishnessnow，"sheexclaimed。
"Itisnotfoolishness，mamere；Icouldnothelpit，butthatmanlookedatmesofunny，Ifeltallcoldchillsdownmyback。
Oh，dearMother，Ilovetheconventandthesistersso，Ijustwanttostayandbeasistertoo，mayI？"
AndthusitwasthatCamilletookthewhiteveilatsixteenyears。Nowthattheperiodofnovitiatewasover，itwasjustbeginningtodawnuponherthatshehadmadeamistake。
"MaybeitwouldhavebeenbetterhadIgonewiththefunny—lookingladyandgentleman，"shemusedbitterlyonenight。
"Oh，Seigneur，I’msotiredandimpatient；it’ssodullhere，and，dearGod，I’msoyoung。"
Therewasnohelpforit。Onemustariseinthemorning，andhelpintherefectorywiththestupidSisterFrancesca，andgoaboutone’sdutieswithaprayerfulmien，andnotevenletasighescapewhenone’sheadachedwiththeeternaltellingofbeads。
Agreatfetedaywascoming，andanatmosphereofpreparationandmildexcitementpervadedthebrownwallsoftheconventlikeadelicatearoma。TheoldCathedralaroundthecornerhadstoodahundredyears，andallthecitywasrisingtodohonourtoitsageandtime—softenedbeauty。Therewouldbeaservice，oh，butsuchaone!withtwoCardinals，andArchbishopsandBishops，andalltheaccompanyingglitterofsoldiersandorchestras。ThelittlesistersoftheConventduSacreCoeurclaspedtheirhandsinanticipationoftheholyjoy。SisterJosephacurledherlip，shewassotiredofchurchlypleasures。
Thedaycame，agoldandbluespringday，whentheairhungheavywiththescentofrosesandmagnolias，andthesunbeamsfairlylaughedastheykissedthehouses。TheoldCathedralstoodgrayandsolemn，andtheflowersinJacksonSquaresmiledcheerybirthdaygreetingsacrosstheway。Thecrowdaroundthedoorsurgedandpressedandpushedinitseagernesstogetwithin。
Ribbonsstretchedacrossthebanquettewereofnoavailtorepressit，andimportantusherswithcardinalcolourscoulddolittlemore。
TheSacredHeartsistersfiledslowlyinatthesidedoor，creatingamomentaryflutterastheypacedreverentlytotheirseats，guardingtheblue—bonnetedorphans。SisterJosepha，determinedtoseeasmuchoftheworldasshecould，keptherbigblackeyesopenedwide，asthechurchrapidlyfilledwiththefashionablydressed，perfumed，rustling，andself—consciousthrong。
Herheartbeatquickly。Therebelliousthoughtsthatwillariseinthemostphilosophicalofussurgedinhersmallheavilygownedbosom。Forherwerethegraythings，theneutraltintedskies，theuglygarb，thecoarsemeats；forthemtherainbow，theetherealairinessofearthlyjoys，thebonbonsandglacesoftheworld。SisterJosephadidnotknowthattherainbowiselusive，anditscoloursbuttheilluminationoftears；shehadneverbeentoldthatearthlyetherealityisnecessarilyephemeral，northatbonbonsandglaces，whetherofthepalateorofthesoul，nauseateandpalluponthetaste。DearGod，forgiveher，forshebentwithcontritetearsoverherwornrosary，andglancednomoreattheworldlyglitteroffemininity。
Thesunbeamsstreamedthroughthehighwindowsinpurpleandcrimsonlightsuponaveritablefugueofcolour。Withintheseats，crushuponcrushofspringmillinery；withintheaisleserectlinesofgold—braided，gold—buttonedmilitary。Uponthealtar，broadsweepsofgoldenrobes，greatdashesofcrimsonskirts，mitresandgleamingcrosses，thesoftneutralhueofrichlacevestments；thetenderheadsofchildhoodinpicturesqueattire；theproud，goldenmagnificenceofthedomedaltarwithitsweightingmassofliliesandwide—eyedroses，andthelongcandlesthatsparkledtheiryellowstarpointsabovethereverentthrongwithinthealtarrails。
ThesoftbaritoneoftheCardinalintonedasinglephraseinthesuspendedsilence。Thecensertookupthenoteinitsdelicateclinkclink，asitswungtoandfrointhehandsofafair—hairedchild。Thentheorgan，pausinganinstantinadeep，mellow，long—drawnnote，burstsuddenlyintoamagnificentstrain，andthechoirsangforth，"KyrieEleison，ChristeEleison。"Onevoice，flute—like，piercing，sweet，ranghighovertherest。
SisterJosephaheardandtrembled，assheburiedherfaceinherhands，andlethertearsfall，likeotherbeads，throughherrosary。
Itwaswhenthefinalwordoftheservicehadbeenintoned，thelastpealoftheexitmarchhaddiedaway，thatshelookedupmeekly，toencounterapairofyouthfulbrowneyesgazingpityinglyuponher。Thatwasallsherememberedforamoment，thattheeyeswereyouthfulandhandsomeandtender。Later，shesawthattheywereplacedinaratherbeautifulboyishface，surmountedbywavesofbrownhair，curlingandsoft，andthattheheadwassetonapairofshouldersdeckedinmilitaryuniform。
Thenthebrowneyesmarchedawaywiththerestoftherearguard，andthewhite—bonnetedsistersfiledoutthesidedoor，throughthenarrowcourt，backintothebrownconvent。
ThatnightSisterJosephatossedmorethanusualonherhardbed，andclaspedherfingersofteninprayertoquellthewickednessinherheart。Turnwhereshewould，prayasshemight，therewaseverapairoftender，pityingbrowneyes，hauntingherpersistently。Thesqueakyorganatvespersintonedtheclankofmilitaryaccoutrementstoherears，thewhitebonnetsofthesistersaboutherfadedintomistsofcurlingbrownhair。
Briefly，SisterJosephawasinlove。
Thedayswentonprettymuchasbefore，savefortheonelittleheartthatbeatrebelliouslynowandthen，thoughittriedsohardtobesubmissive。Therewasthemorningworkintherefectory，thestupidlittlegirlstoteachsewing，andtheinsatiablelampsthatweresogreedyforoil。Andalwaysthetender，boyishbrowneyes，thatlookedsosorrowfullyatthefragile，beautifullittlesister，haunting，following，pleading。
Perchance，hadSisterJosephabeenintheworld，theeyeswouldhavebeenanincident。Butinthishomeofself—repressionandretrospection，itwasalife—story。Theeyeshadgonetheirway，doubtlessforgettingthelittlesistertheypitied；butthelittlesister？
Thedaysglidedintoweeks，theweeksintomonths。ThoughtsofescapehadcometoSisterJosepha，tofleeintotheworld，tomergeinthegreatcitywhererecognitionwasimpossible，and，workingherwayliketherestofhumanity，perchanceencountertheeyesagain。
Itwasallplannedandready。Shewouldwaituntilsomemorningwhenthelittlebandofblack—robedsisterswendedtheirwaytomassattheCathedral。Whenitwastimetofileouttheside—doorintothecourtway，shewouldlingeratprayers，thenslipoutanotherdoor，andunseenglideupChartresStreettoCanal，andoncethere，mingleinthethrongthatfilledthewidethoroughfare。Beyondthisfirstplanshecouldthinknofurther。
Penniless，garbed，andshaventhoughshewouldbe，otherdifficultiesneverpresentedthemselvestoher。Shewouldrelyonthemerciesoftheworldtohelpherescapefromthistorturinglifeofinertia。Itseemedeasynowthatthefirststepofdecisionhadbeentaken。
TheSaturdaynightbeforethefinaldayhadcome，andshelayfeverishlynervousinhernarrowlittlebed，wonderingwithwide—eyedfearatthemorrow。Pale—eyedSisterDominicaandSisterFrancescawerewhisperingtogetherinthedarksilence，andSisterJosepha’searsprickedupassheheardhername。
"Sheisnotwell，poorchild，"saidFrancesca。"Ifearthelifeistooconfining。"
"Itisbestforher，"wasthereply。"Youknow，sister，howharditwouldbeforherintheworld，withnonamebutCamille，nofriends，andherbeauty；andthen——"
SisterJosephaheardnomore，forherheartbeatingtumultuouslyinherbosomdrownedtherest。Liketherushofthebittersalttideoveradrowningmanclingingtoaspar，camethecompletesubmergingofherhopesofanotherlife。NonamebutCamille，thatwastrue；nonationality，forshecouldnevertellfromwhomorwhenceshecame；nofriends，andabeautythatnotevenanungainlybonnetandshavenheadcouldhide。Inaflashsherealisedthedeceptionofthelifeshewouldlead，andthecruelself—tortureofwonderatherownidentity。Already，asifinanticipationoftheworld’squestionings，shewasaskingherself，"WhoamI？WhatamI？"
ThenextmorningthesistersduSacreCoeurfiledintotheCathedralatHighMass，andbentdevoutkneesatthegeneralconfession。"ConfiteorDeoomnipotenti，"murmuredthepriest；
andtremblinglyonelittlesisterfollowedthewords，"JeconfesseaDieu，toutpuissant——quej’aibeaucouppecheparpensees——c’estmafaute——c’estmafaute——c’estmatresgrandefaute。"
Theorganpealedforthasmassended，thethrongslowlyfiledout，andthesisterspacedthroughthecourtwaybackintothebrownconventwalls。Onepausedattheentrance，andgazedwithswiftlongingeyesinthedirectionofnarrow，squalidChartresStreet，then，withagulpingsob，followedtherest，andvanishedbehindtheheavydoor。
THEPRALINEWOMAN
ThepralinewomansitsbythesideoftheArchbishop’squaintlittleoldchapelonRoyalStreet，andslowlywavesherlatanierfanoverthepinkandbrownwares。
"Pralines，pralines。Ah，ma’amzelle，youbuy？S’ilvousplait，ma’amzelle，cespralines，deybefine，ver’fresh。
"Maisnon，maman，youarenotsure？
"Sho’，chile，mabebe，mapetite，sheputdeseuphissef。He’shans’sosmall，ma’amzelle，lakyou’s，maisbrune。Sheputdeseupdismorn’。Youtak’none？Nohusban’fo’youden!
"Ah，mapetite，youtak’？Cinqsous，bebe，maylebonDieukeepyougood!
"Maisoui，madame，Iknowyouetranger。Youdon’looklakdeseNewOrleanspeop’。Youlak’doseYankeedatcomedown’fo’dewar。"
Ding—dong，ding—dong，ding—dong，chimestheCathedralbellacrossJack—sonSquare，andthepralinewomancrossesherself。
"Hail，Mary，fullofgrace——
"Pralines，madame？Youbuylak’dat？Dixsous，madame，an’onelil’piecefo’lagniappefo’madame’slil’bebe。Ah，c’estbon!
"Pralines，pralines，sofresh，sofine!M’sieuwouldlak’somefo’he’slil’gal’athome？Maisnon，what’sdatyousay？She’sdaid!Ah，m’sieu，’tismylil’galwhatdiedlongyearago。
Misere，misere!
"HerecomedatlazyIndiensquaw。Whatshegoodfo’，anyhow？Shejes’sitlakdatindeFrenchMarketan’sellherfile，an’
sleep，sleep，sleep，lak’soinhe’sblanket。Hey，dere，you，Tonita，howgoesyou’beezness？
"Pralines，pralines!HolyFather，yougivemedatblessin’sho’？
Tak’one，Iknowyoulakdatw’iteone。Ittas’good，Iknow，bien。
"Pralines，madame？Ilak’you’face。Whatfo’youwearblack？
You’lil’boydaid？Youtak’one，jes’seehowittas’。Ihadonelil’boyonce，hejes’grow’twellhe’sbiglak’dis，denonedayhetak’sickan’die。Oh，madame，itmos’brekmypo’heart。
IburncandleinSt。Rocque，Isaymybeads，Isprinkleholywaterroun’he’sbed；hejes’layso，he’seyesturnup，hesay’Maman，maman，’denhedie!Madame，youtak’one。Non，non，nol’argent，youtak’onefo’mylil’boy’ssake。
"Pralines，pralines，m’sieu？Whomak’dese？Mylil’gal，Didele，ofco’se。Non，non，Idon’tmak’nomo’。Po’TanteMariegettoool’。Didele？She’sonelil’galI’dopt。Iseeheronedayindestrit。Hewalkso；hitcol’sheshiver，an’I
say，’Whereyougone，lil’gal？’andhecan’tell。Hejes’cripclosetome，an’cryso!DenItak’herhomewidme，andshesayhe’snameDidele。Youseedeywa’ntnobodydere。Mylil’gal，she’sdaidofdeyellowfever；mylil’boy，he’sdaid，po’TanteMarieallalone。Didele，shegrowfine，shekeephousean’mek’
pralines。Den，whennightcome，shesitwidhe’sguitaran’
sing，"’Tul’aimecestroisjours，Tul’aimecestroisjours，Macoeuratoi，Macoeuratoi，Tul’aimecestroisjours!’
"Ah，he’sfinegal，isDidele!
"Pralines，pralines!Datlil’cloud，h’itlooklak’rain，Ihopeno。
"HerecomedatlazyI’ishmandowndestrit。Idon’tlak’
I’ishman，me，non，deysofunny。OnedayoneI’ishman，hesaytome，’Auntie，whatfo’youtalkso？’andIjes’sayback，’Whatfo’yousay"Faithan’bejabers"？’Non，Idon’lakI’ishman，me!
"Herecomederain!NowIgotfo’togo。Didele，shebewaitfo’me。Downh’itcome!H’itfallindeMeesseesip，an’fillup——up——so，cleantodelevee，denwehavebigcrivasse，an’po’
TanteMariefloataway。Bonjour，madame，youcomeagain？
Pralines!Pralines!"
ODALIE
NowandthenCarnivaltimecomesatthetimeofthegoodSaintValentine，andthensometimesitcomesaslateasthewarmdaysinMarch，whenspringisindeeduponus，andthegreennessofthegrassoutviesthegreenintheroyalstandards。
DaysanddaysbeforetheCarnivalproper，NewOrleansbeginstotakeonafestiveappearance。Hereandtheretheroyalflagswiththeirglowinggreensandvioletsandyellowsappear，andthen，asifbymagic，thestreetsandbuildingsflameandburstlikepoppiesoutofbud，intoagloriousrefulgenceofcolourthatsteepsthesensesintoalanguorousacceptanceofwarmthandbeauty。
OnMardiGrasday，asyouknow，itisatowngonemadwithfolly。
Ahugemaskedballemptiedintothestreetsatdaylight；ameetingofallnationsoncommonground，apot—pourriofeveryconceivablehumaningredient，butfaintlydescribesitall。
Therearemusicandflowers，criesandlaughterandsongandjoyousness，andneveranachinghearttoshowitssorrowordimthehappinessofthestreets。Awondrousthing，thisCarnival!
ButtheoldcroniesdowninFrenchtown，whoknoweverything，andcanreciteyoumanyastory，tellofonesadheartonMardiGrasyearsago。Itwasawoman’s，ofcourse；for"Ilesttoujourslesfemmesquisontmalheureuses，"saysanoldproverb，andperhapsitisright。Thiswoman——achild，shewouldbecalledelsewhere，saveinthislandoftropicalgrowthandprecocity——lostherhearttoonewhoneverknew，averycommonstory，bytheway，butonewhichwouldhavebeenquitedistastefultothehaughtyjudge，herfather，hadheknown。
Odaliewasbeautiful。Odaliewashaughtytoo，butgraciousenoughtothosewhopleasedherdaintyfancy。IntheoldFrenchhouseonRoyalStreet，withitsquaintwindowsandSpanishcourtyardgreenandcool，andmademusicalbytheplashingofthefountainandthetrillofcagedbirds，livedOdalieinconvent—likeseclusion。MonsieurleJugewasdeterminednohawkshouldbreakthroughthecageandstealhisdove；andso，thoughtherewasnomother，asternduennaauntkeptfaithfulwatch。
AlasfortheprecautionsoflaTante!Brighteyesthatsearchforotherbrighteyesinwhichlurksthespiritofyouthandmischiefareeveronthelook—out，eveninchurch。DutifullywasOdaliemarchedtotheCathedraleverySundaytomass，andTanteLouise，noddingdevoutlyoverherbeads，couldnotseetheblushesandglancesfullofmeaning，awholecodeofsignalsasitwere，thatpassedbetweenOdalieandPierre，theimpecuniousyoungclerkinthecourtroom。
Odalieloved，perhaps，becausetherewasnotmuchelsetodo。
WhenoneisshutupinagreatFrenchhousewithagrimsleepytanteandnocompanionsofone’sownage，lifebecomesadullthing，andoneisreadyforanynewsensation，particularlyifintheveinsthereboundsthetempestuousSpanish—FrenchbloodthatMonsieurleJugeboastedof。SoOdaliehuggedtheimageofherPierreduringtheweekdays，andplayedtremulouslittlelove—songstoitinthetwilightwhenlaTantedozedoverherdevotionbook，andonSundaysatmasstherewereglancesandblushes，andmayhap，atsomeespeciallyrememberedtime，thetouchoffinger—tipsattheholy—waterfont，whilelaTantedroppedherlastgenuflexion。
ThencametheCarnivaltime，andonelittleheartbeatfaster，asthegrayhouseonRoyalStreethungoutitsmany—huedflags，anddrapeditsgrimfrontwithglowingcolours。Itwastobeatimeofjoyandrelaxation，wheneveryonecouldgoabroad，andinthecrowdsonecouldspeaktowhomonechose。Unconsciousplansformulated，andthepetiteOdaliewasquitehappyasthetimedrewnear。
"Onlythink，TanteLouise，"shewouldcry，"whatahappytimeitistobe!"
ButTanteLouiseonlygrumbled，aswasherwont。
ItwasMardiGrasdayatlast，andearlythroughherwindowOdaliecouldhearthejingleoffollybellsonthemaskers’
costumes，thetinkleofmusic，andtheechoingstrainsofsongs。
Uptoherearstherefloatedthelaughteroftheoldermaskers，andthescreamsofthelittlechildrenfrightenedattheirownimagesunderthemaskanddomino。Whatahurrytobeoutandinthemotleymerrythrong，tobepacingRoyalStreettoCanalStreet，wherewaslifeandtheworld!
TheyweretiredeyeswithwhichOdalielookedatthegaypageantatlast，tiredwithwatchingthrongafterthrongofmaskers，oftheunmasked，ofpeeringintothecartsfulofsingingminstrels，intocarriagesofrevellers，hopingforaglimpseofPierrethedevout。Theallegoricalcartsrumblingbywiththeirimportantred—clothedhorseswerebeginningtolosecharm，thedisguisesshowedtawdry，eventhegay—huedflagsflutteredsadlytoOdalie。
MardiGraswasatiresomeday，afterall，shesighed，andTanteLouiseagreedwithherforonce。
Sixo’clockhadcome，thehourwhenallmasksmustberemoved。
Thelongredraysofthesettingsunglintedathwartthemany—huedcostumesoftherevellerstroopingunmaskedhomewardtorestforthenight’slastmadfrolic。
DownToulouseStreettherecamethemerriestthrongofall。
Youngmenandwomenindainty，fairy—likegarb，dancers，anddressesofthepicturesqueEmpire，abutterflyortwoandadamehereandtherewithpowderedhairandgracesofoldentime。
Singingwithunmaskedfaces，theydancedtowardTanteLouiseandOdalie。Shestoodwitheyeslustrousandtear—heavy，forthereinthefrontwasPierre，Pierrethefaithless，hisarmsabouttheslenderwaistofabutterfly，whosetinselledpowderedhairfloatedacrossthelacerufflesofhisEmpirecoat。
"Pierre!"criedOdalie，softly。Nooneheard，foritwasamerefaintbreathandfellunheeded。Insteadthelaughingthrongpeltedherwithflowersandcandyandwenttheirway，andevenPierredidnotsee。
Yousee，whenoneisshutupinthegrimwallsofaRoyalStreethouse，withnoonebutaTanteLouiseandagrimjudge，howisonetolearnthatinthisworldtherearefaithlessoneswhomayglancetenderlyintoone’seyesatmassandpasstheholywateroncaressingfingerswithoutbeingmadlyinlove？TherewasnoonetotellOdalie，soshesatathomeinthedullfirstdaysofLent，andnursedherdeardeadlove，andmournedaswomenhavedonefromtimeimmemorialoverthefaithlessnessofman。AndwhenonedaysheaskedthatshemightgobacktotheUrsulines’
conventwhereherchildishdayswerespent，onlytogothistimeasanun，MonsieurleJugeandTanteLouisethoughtitquitetheproperandconvenientthingtodo；forhowweretheytoknowthesecretofthatMardiGrasday？
LAJUANITA
IfyouneverlivedinMandeville，youcannotappreciatethethrillofwholesome，satisfiedjoywhichsweepsoveritsinhabitantseveryeveningatfiveo’clock。Itisthehourforthearrivalofthe"NewCamelia，"thehappeningoftheday。Asearlyasfouro’clockthetrailingsmokeacrossthehorizonofthetreacherousLakePontchartrainappears，andMandevilleknowsthenthatthehourforitssiestahaspassed，andthatitmustarrayitselfinitscoolestandfluffiestgarments，andgodowntothepiertomeetthissoleconnectionbetweenitselfandtheoutsideworld；thelittle，puffy，side—wheelsteamerthatcomesdailyfromNewOrleansandbringsthemailandthenews。
Onthisparticulardaytherewasanairofsuppressedexcitementaboutthelittleknotofpeoplewhichgatheredonthepier。Tobesure，therewerenooutwardsignstoshowthatanythingunusualhadoccurred。Thesmallfolksdancedwiththesamegleeoverthewornboards，andpeereddownwithdaringexcitementintotheperilousdepthsofthewaterbelow。Thesun，fastsinkinginagorgeousglowbehindthepinesoftheTchefunctaregionfaraway，dancedhismischievousraysinmuchthesamemannerthathedideveryotherday。Buttherewasasomethingintheair，asomethingnottangible，butmysterious，subtle。Youcouldcatchanindescribablewhiffofitinyourinnersenses，bythehalf—eager，furtiveglancesthatthesmallcrowdcastatLaJuanita。
"Gar，gar，lebateau!"saidonedark—tressedmothertothewide—eyedbaby。"Et，oui，"sheadded，inanundertonetohercompanion。"Voila，LaJuanita!"
LaJuanita，youmustknow，wastheprideofMandeville，theadored，theadmiredofall，withherpetite，half—Spanish，half—Frenchbeauty。WhetherrockingintheshadeoftheCherokee—rose—coveredgalleryofGrandpereColomes’bighouse，herfairfacebonnet—shaded，herdaintyhandsglovedtokeepthesunfromtoocloseanacquaintance，orsplashingthesprayfromthebowofherlittlepirogue，orfluffingherskirtsabouthertinyfeetonthepier，shewasthepetandwardofMandeville，asitwere，LaJuanitaAlvarez，sinceMadameAlvarezwasawidow，andGrandpereColomeswasstrictandstern。
AndnowLaJuanitahadsethersmallfootdownwithapassionatestampbeforeGrandpereColomes’veryface，andtossedherblackcurlsaboutherwilfulhead，andsaidshewouldgotothepierthiseveningtomeetherMercer。AllMandevilleknewthis，andcastitsfurtiveglancesalternatelyatLaJuanitawithtwobigpinkspotsinhercheeks，andattheentrancetothepier，expectingGrandpereColomesandascene。
Thesuncastredglowsandvioletshadowsoverthepier，andthepinesmurmuredasoftlittlevesperhymnamongthemselvesuponthebeach，asthe"NewCamelia"swungherselfin，crabby，sidewise，likeafatoldgentlemangoingintoasmalldoor。
Therewastheclangofanimportantbell，thescreamofahoarselittlewhistle，andMandevillerushedtothegang—planktowelcometheoutsideworld。Juanitaputherhandthroughawaitingarm，andtrippedawaywithherMercer，bigandblondandbrawny。"UnAmericain，pah!"saidthelittlemotheroftheblackeyes。AndMandevillesighedsadly，andshookitshead，andwassorryforGrandpereColomes。
ThiswasSaturday，andthebigregattawouldbeMonday。Ah，thatregatta，suchaoneasMandevillehadneverseen!ThereweretobeboatsfromMadisonvilleandAmite，fromLewisburgandCovington，andevenfar—awayNott’sPoint。TherewastobeaClassAandClassBandClassC，andthelittleFrenchgirlsofthetownflauntedtheirribbonsdowntheoneoak—shaded，lake—kissedstreet，anddaredanyonetosaytheirswerenotthefavouritecolours。
InClassAwasentered，"LaJuanita，’captainMercerGrangeman，colourspinkandgold。"Hername，hercolours；whatimpudence!
Ofcourse，notbeingaMandevillian，youcouldnotunderstandtheshameofGrandpereColomesatthis。WasitnotbadenoughforhispetiteJuanita，hisSpanishblossom，hishopeofafamilythathadhelditselfproudlyalooffrom"doseAmericain"fromtimeimmemorial，tohavesmileduponthisMercer，thispale—eyedyouth？Wasitnotbadenoughforhertodemeanherselfbywalkinguponthepierwithhim？Butforaboat，hisboat，"unbateauAmericain，"tobenamedLaJuanita!Oh，theshameofit!
GrandpereColomesprayedadevoutprayertotheVirginthat"LaJuanita"shouldbecapsized。
Mondaycame，clearandblueandstifling。Thewavesofhotairdancedonthesandsandadowntheonestreetmerrily。GlassilycalmlaythePontchartrain，heavilystillhungtheatmosphere。
MadameAlvarezcastaninquiringglancetowardthesky。
GrandpereColomeschuckled。HehadnotlivedontheshoresofthetreacherousLakePontchartrainfornothing。Heknewitseverymood，itspetulancesandpassions；heknewthisglassywarmthandwhatitmeant。Chucklingagainandagain，hesteppedtothegalleryandlookedoutoverthelake，andatthepier，wherelaytheboatsrockingandidlytuggingattheirmoorings。
LaJuanitainherrose—scentedroomtiedthepinkribbonsonherdaintyfrock，andfastenedclothofgoldrosesatherlithewaist。
ItwassaidthatjustbeforethecrackofthepistolLaJuanita’stinyhandlayinMercer’s，andthathebenthishead，andwhisperedsoftly，sothatthesurroundingcrowdcouldnothear，——
"Juanitamine，ifIwin，youwill？"
"Oui，monMercere，eefyouwin。"
Inanotherinstantthewhitewingswereoffscuddingbeforetherisingbreeze，dippingtheirglossyboat—sidesintotheclearwater，strainingtheircordageintheirtenseeffortstoreachthestakeboats。Mandevilleindiscriminatelydistributeditselfonpiers，largeandsmall，bath—housetops，trees，andcraftofallkinds，frompirogue，dory，andpine—rafttopretentiouscat—boatandshell—schooner。Mandevillecheeredandstraineditseyesafteralltheboats，butchieflywasitsattentiondirectedto"LaJuanita。"
"Ah，voila，eetisahead!"
"Maisnon，c’estunautre!"
"LaJuanita!LaJuanita!"
"RegardezGrandpereColomes!"
OldColomesonthebigpierwithMadameAlvarezandhisgranddaughterwasintentlystraininghisweather—beatenfaceinthedirectionofNott’sPoint，hisbackresolutelyturneduponthescuddingwhitewings。AsuddenchuckleofgrimsatisfactioncausedLaPetite’sheadtotosspetulantly。
Butonlyforaminute，forGrandpereColomes’chucklewasfollowedbyashoutofdismayfromthosewhoseglancehadfollowedhis。YoumustknowthatitisaroundNott’sPointthatthestormkingshowshiswingsfirst，forthelittlepeninsulaguardstheentrancewhichleadsintothesoutheastwatersofthestormyRigoletsandtheblusteringGulf。Youwouldknow，ifyoulivedinMandeville，thatwhenthepinesonNott’sPointdarkenandwhenthewatershowswhitebeyondliketheteethofahungrywolf，itistimetosteeryourboatintothemouthofsomeoneofthemanycalmbayouswhichflowsilentlythroughoutSt。Tammanyparishintothelake。Smallwonderthatthecryofdismaywentupnow，forNott’sPointwasblack，withaluridlightoverhead，andtheroarofthegrimsoutheastwindcameominouslyoverthewater。
LaJuanitaclaspedherhandsandstrainedhereyesforhernamesake。Theracershadroundedthesecondstake—boat，andthecourseofthetriangleheadedthemdirectlyfortheluridcloud。
YoushouldhaveseenGrandpereColomesthen。Hedancedupanddownthepierinaperfectfrenzy。ThethinpalelipsofMadameAlvarezmovedinasilentprayer；LaJuanitastoodcoldlysilent。
Andnowyoucouldseethattheadvanceguardofthesoutheastforcehadstruckthelittlefleet。Theydippedandscurriedandrocked，andyoucouldseethesailsbeingreefedhurriedly，andalmostheartheriggingcreakandmoanunderthestrain。Thenthewindcameupthelake，andstruckthetownwithatumultuousforce。Thewatersroseandheavedinthelong，sullenground—swell，whichbetokenedserioustrouble。Therewasarushoflake—crafttoshelter。Heavygraywavesboomedagainstthebreakwatersandpiers，dashingtheirbrackishsprayuponthestrainedwatchers；thenwithashriekandahowlthestormburstfull，withblindingsheetsofrain，andagreathurricaneofGulfwindthatthreatenedtoblowthelittletownaway。
LaJuanitawasproud。WhenGrandpereandMadameledherawayinthestorm，thoughherfacewaswhite，andtherosemouthpressedclose，notaworddidshesay，andhereyeswereasbrightaseverbefore。Itwasfoolishtohopethatthefrailboatscouldsurvivesuchastorm。Therewasnoteventhemerestexcuseforshelteroutinthewaters，andwhenLakePontchartraingrowsangry，itdevourswithoutpity。
Yourtropicalstormissoonover，however，andinanhourthesunstruggledthroughagrayandmistysky，overwhichthewindwassweepinggreatclouds。Therain—dropshungdiamond—likeonthethickfoliage，butthelongground—swellstillboomedagainstthebreakwatersandshowedwhiteteeth，fartothesouth。
Aschickenscreepfromundershelterafterarain，sothepeopleofMandevillecreptoutagainonthepiers，onthebath—houses，onthebreakwateredge，andwatchedeagerlyfortheboats。
Slowlyuponthehorizonappearedwhitesails，andthelittlecraftswungintosight。One，two，three，four，five，six，seven，eight，nine，countedMandeville。Everyonecomingin!Bravo!
Andagreatcheerthatsweptthewholelengthofthetownfromthepost—officetoBlackBayouwentup。Bravo!Everyboatwascomingin。But——waseveryman？
Thiswasasoberingthought，andinthehushwhichfollowedityoucouldheartheQ。andC。trainthunderingoverthegreatlake—bridge，milesaway。
Well，theycameintothepieratlast，"LaJuanita"inthelead；
andasCaptainMercerlanded，hewassurroundedbyavoluble，chattering，anxiousthrongthatloadedhimwithquestionsinpatois，inbrokenEnglish，andinFrench。Hewasnolonger"unAmericain"now，hewasahero。
Whentheothereightboatscamein，andMandevillesawthatnoonewaslost，therewasanotherringingbravo，andmorechatteringofquestions。
Weheardthetruthfinally。Whenthestormburst，CaptainMercersuddenlypromotedhimselftoanadmiralshipandassumedcommandofhislittlefleet。HehadledthemthroughtheteethofthegaletoasmallinletonthecoastbetweenBayouLacombeandNott’sPoint，andtheretheyhadwaiteduntilthestormpassed。
LoudwerethepraisesoftheothercaptainsforAdmiralMercer，profusewerethethanksofthesistersandsweethearts，ashewascarriedtriumphantlyontheshouldersofthesailorsadownthewharftotheMaisonColomes。
ThecrispnesshadgonefromJuanita’spinkfrock，andtheclothofgoldroseswerewellnighpetalless，butthehandthatsheslippedintohiswaswarmandsoft，andtheeyesthatwereupturnedtoMercer’sblueoneswereshiningwithadmiringtears。
AndevenGrandpereColomes，ashebrewedontheCherokee—rose—coveredgallery，afierypunchfortheheroes，washeardtoadmitthat"sometimedoseAmericaincanmos’belakoneFrenchman。"
Andwedancedatthebetrothalsupperthenextweek。
TITEE
Itwascoldthatday。Thegreatsharpnorth—windsweptoutElysianFieldsStreetinblaststhatmademenshiver，andbenteverythingintheirtrack。Theskieshungloweringandgloomy；
theusuallyquietstreetwasmorethandeserted，itwasdismal。
Titeeleanedagainstoneofthebrownfreightcarsforprotectionagainsttheshrillnorther，andwarmedhislittlechappedhandsatablazeofchipsanddrygrass。"Maybeit’llsnow，"hemuttered，castingaglanceattheskythatwouldhavedonecredittoapractisedseaman。"Thenwon’tIhavefun!Ugh，butthewindblows!"
ItwasSaturday，orTiteewouldhavebeeninschool，thebigyellowschoolonMarignyStreet，wherehewenteverydaywhenitsbellboomednineo’clock，wentwitharunandajoyouswhoop，ostensiblytoimbibeknowledge，reallytomakehisteacher’slifeaburden。
Idle，lazy，dirty，troublesomeboy，shecalledhimtoherself，asdaybydayworeon，andTiteeimprovednot，butlethiswholeclasspasshimonitswaytoahighergrade。Apracticaljokeherelishedinfinitelymorethanapracticalproblem，andagoodgameatpin—stickingwasfarmoreentertainingthanalanguagelesson。Moreover，hewasalwayshungry，andwouldeatinschoolbeforethehalf—pasttenrecess，therebylosingmuchgoodplaytimeforhisvoraciousappetite。
ButtherewasnothinginnaturalhistorythatTiteedidnotknow。
Hecoulddissectabutterflyoramosquitohawk，anddescribetheirpartsasaccuratelyasaspectacledstudentwithascalpelandmicroscopecouldtalkaboutacadaver。TheentireThirdDistrict，withitsswampsandcanalsandcommonsandrailroadsections，anditswondrous，crooked，tortuousstreets，wasanopenbooktoTitee。Therewasnotanookorcornerthathedidnotknoworcouldnottellof。Therewasnotabitofgossipamongthegamins，littleCreoleandSpanishfellows，withdarkskinsandlovelyeyes，likespaniels，thatTiteecouldnottellof。HeknewjustexactlywhenitwastimeforcrawfishtobeplentifuldownintheClaiborneandMarignycanals；justwhenapoor，breadlessfellowmightgetajobinthebigbone—yardandfertilisingfactory，outontherailroadtrack；andasforthelevee，withitsshipsandschoonersandsailors，howhecouldrevelinthem!Thewondrousships，theprettylittleschooners，wheretheforeign—lookingsailorslayonlongmoonlightnights，singingtotheirguitarsandtellinggreatstories，——allthesethingsandmorecouldTiteetellof。HehadbeendowntotheGulf，andoutonitstreacherouswatersthroughtheEadsjettiesonafishing—smackwithsomejollybrownsailors，andcouldinterestthewholeschool—roominthetalk—lessons，ifhechose。
Titeeshiveredasthewindsweptroundthefreight—cars。Thereisn’tmuchwarmthinabitofajerseycoat。
"Wish’twassummer，"hemurmured，castinganothersailor’sglanceatthesky。"Don’tbelieveIlikesnow；it’stoowetandcold。"
Andwithalastpartingcaressatthelittlefirehehadbuildedforaminute’swarmth，heplungedhishandsinhispockets，shuthisteeth，andstartedmanfullyonhismissionouttherailroadtracktowardtheswamps。
ItwaslatewhenTiteecamehome，tosuchahomeasitwas，andhehadbutillyperformedhiserrand；sohismotherbeathimandsenthimtobedsupperless。Asharpstrapstingsincoldweather，andalongwalkintheteethofabitingwindcreatesakeenappetite。ButifTiteecriedhimselftosleepthatnight，hewasupbrightandearlynextmorning，hadbeentomass，devoutlykneelingonthecoldfloor，blowinghisfingerstokeepthemwarm，andwashomealmostbeforetherestofthefamilywereawake。
Therewasevidentlysomegreatmatterofbusinessontheyoungman’smind，forhescarcelyatehisbreakfast，andleftthetablesoon，eagerlycrammingtheremainderofhismealinhispockets。
"Mafoi，butwhatnow？"musedhismother，asshewatchedhislittleformsturdilytrudgingthetrackinthefaceofthewind；
hishead，withtherimlesscapthrustcloseontheshockofblackhair，bentlow；hishandsthrustdeepinthebulgingpockets。
"Anewliveplay—toyh’itmaybe，"venturedthefather；"heisonefunnychil。"
ThenextdayTiteewaslateforschool。Itwassomethingunusual，forhewasalwaysthefirstonhandtofixsomeplanofmechanismtomaketheteachermiserable。Shelookedreprovinglyathimthismorning，whenhecameinduringarithmeticclass，hishairallwind—blown，hischeeksrosyfromahardfightwiththesharpblasts。Buthemadeupforhistardinessbyhisextremegoodnessallday；justthink，Titeedidnoteveneatoncebeforenoon，asomethingunparalleledintheentireprevioushistoryofhisschoollife。
Whenthelunch—hourcame，andalltheyardwasasceneoffeastandfun，oneoftheboysfoundhimstandingbyapost，disconsolatelywatchingahamsandwichasitrapidlydisappeareddownthethroatofasturdy，square—headedlittlefellow。
"Hello，Edgar，"hesaid，"whatyougotferlunch？"
"Nothin’，"wasthemournfulreply。
"Ah，whydon’tyoustopeatin’inschool，ferachange？Youdon’teverhavenothin’toeat。"
"Ididn’teatto—day，"saidTitee，blazingup。
"Youdid!"
"ItellyouIdidn’t!"andTitee’shardlittlefistplantedapunctuationmarkonhiscomrade’seye。
Afightintheschoolyard!PoorTiteewasindisgraceagain。
Still，inspiteofhisbatteredappearance，aseverescoldingfromtheprincipal，linestowrite，andafurtherpunishmentfromhismother，Titeescarcelyremainedforhisdinner，butwasoffdowntherailroadtrackwithhispocketspartlystuffedwiththeremnantsofthescantymeal。
AndthenextdayTiteewastardyagain，andlunchlesstoo，andthenext，untiltheteacher，indespair，sentanicelyprintednotetohismotherabouthim，whichmighthavedonesomegood，hadnotTiteetakengreatpainstotearituponthewayhome。
Onedayitrained，wholebucketsfulofwater，thatpouredintorrentsfromamiserable，angrysky。Toowetadayforbitsofboystobetrudgingtoschool，soTitee’smotherthought；soshekepthimathometowatchtheweatherthroughthewindow，frettingandfuminglikearegularstorminminiature。Asthedayworeon，andtheraindidnotabate，hismotherkeptastrongwatchuponhim，forhetriedmanytimestoslipaway。
Dinnercameandwent，andthegraysoddennessoftheskiesdeepenedintotheblacknessofcomingnight。SomeonecalledTiteetogotobed，andTiteewasnowheretobefound。
Underthebeds，inclosetsandcorners，insuchimpossibleplacesasthesoap—dishandwater—pitchereven，theysearched，buthehadgoneascompletelyasifhehadbeenspiritedaway。Itwasofnousetocalluptheneighbors，hehadneverbeenneartheirhouses，theyaffirmed，sotherewasnothingtodobuttogototherailroadtrackwhereTiteehadbeenseensooftentrudgingintheshrillnorth—wind。
Withlanternsandsticks，andhislittleyellowdog，therescuingpartystarteddownthetrack。Therainhadceasedfalling，butthewindblewagale，scurryinggreatgraycloudsoverafiercesky。Itwasnotexactlydark，thoughinthispartofthecitythereisneithergasnorelectricity，andonsuchanightasthisneithermoonnorstarsdaredshowtheirfacesinsograyasky；
butasortofall—diffusedluminositywasintheair，asthoughtheseaofatmospherewaschargedwithanetherealphosphorescence。
Searchastheydid，therewerenosignsofTitee。Thesoftearthbetweentherailroadtiescrumbledbetweentheirfeetwithoutshowinganysmalltracksorfootprints。
"Mais，wemayaswellreturn，"saidthebigbrother；"heisnothere。"
"Oh，monDieu，"urgedthemother，"heis，heis；Iknowit。"
Soontheywent，slippingonthewetearth，stumblingoverthelooserocks，untilasuddenwildyelpfromTigerbroughtthemtoastandstill。Hehadrushedaheadofthem，andhisvoicecouldbeheardinthedistance，howlingpiteously。
Withafreshimpetusthelittlemuddypartyhurriedforward。
Tiger’syelpscouldbeheardplainerandplainer，minglednowwithamuffled，plaintivelittlewail。
Afterawhiletheyfoundapitifullittleheapofsoddenrags，lyingatthefootofamoundofearthandstonesthrownuponthesideofthetrack。ItwasTiteewithabrokenleg，allwetandmiserableandmoaning。
Theypickedhimuptenderly，andstartedtocarryhimhome。Buthecriedandclungtothemother，andbeggednottogo。
"Ah，monpauvreenfant，hehasthefever!"wailedthemother。
"No，no，it’smyoldman。He’shungry，"sobbedTitee，holdingoutalittlepackage。Itwastheremnantsofhisdinner，allwetandrain—washed。
"Whatoldman？"askedthebigbrother。
"Myoldman。Oh，please，pleasedon’tgohometillIseehim。
I’mnothurtingmuch，Icango。"
So，yieldingtohiswhim，theycarriedhimfartheraway，downthesidesofthetrackuptoanembankmentorleveebythesidesoftheMarignyCanal。Thenthebigbrother，suddenlystopping，exclaimed：
"Why，here’sacave。IsitRobinsonCrusoe？"
"It’smyoldman’scave，"criedTitee。"Oh，pleasegoin；maybehe’sdead。"
Therecannotbemuchceremonyinenteringacave。Thereisbutonethingtodo，——walkin。Thistheydid，andholdingupthelantern，beheldaweirdsight。Onabedofstrawandpaperinonecornerlayawithered，wizened，white—beardedoldmanwithwideeyesstaringattheunaccustomedlight。Intheothercornerwasanequallydilapidatedcow。
"It’smyoldman!"criedTitee，joyfully。"Oh，please，grandpa，Icouldn’tgethereto—day，itrainedallmornin’an’whenIranaway，Ifelldownan’brokesomething，an’，oh，grandpa，I’malltiredan’hurty，an’I’mso’fraidyou’rehungry。"
SothesecretofTitee’sjauntsdowntherailroadwasout。Inoneofhistripsaroundtheswamp—land，hehaddiscoveredtheoldmanexhaustedfromcoldandhungerinthefields。Togethertheyhadfoundthiscave，andTiteehadgatheredthestrawandpaperthatmadethebed。Thenatrampcow，oldandturnedadrift，too，hadcreptinandsharedthedampdwelling。AndthitherTiteehadtrudgedtwiceaday，carryinghisluncheoninthemorningandhisdinnerintheafternoon。
"There’sacrowninheavenforthatchild，"saidtheofficerofcharitytowhomthecasewasreferred。
ButasforTitee，whenthelegwaswell，hewenthiswayasbefore。
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