It was Antoinette who answered, with a force that revealed a new side of her character.
``Mr.Temple will not be there,'' she said, flashing a glance upon us.``Do you think he would come to me--?''
Helene laid her hand upon the girl's arm.
``My dear, I think nothing,'' she said quietly; ``but it is best for us to be prepared against any surprise.Remember that I do not know Mr.Temple, and that you have not seen him for five years.''
``It is not like him, you know it is not like him,''
exclaimed Antoinette, looking at me.
``I know it is not like him, Mademoiselle,'' I replied.
Madame la Vicomtesse, from behind the girl, gave me a significant look.
``This occurred to me,'' she went on in an undisturbed tone, ``that Mr.Temple might come with Auguste to protest against the proceeding,--or even to defend himself against the imputation that he was to make use of this money in any way.I wish you to realize, Antoinette, before you decide to go, that you may meet Mr.Temple.
Would it not be better to let Mr.Ritchie go alone? I am sure that we could find no better emissary.''
``Auguste is here,'' said Antoinette.``I must see him.''
Her voice caught.``I may never see him again.He may be ill, he may be starving--and I know that he is in trouble.Whether'' (her voice caught) ``whether Mr.
Temple is with him or not, I mean to go.''
``Then it would be well to start,'' said the Vicomtesse.
Deftly dropping her veil, she picked up a riding whip that lay on the railing and descended the stairs to the courtyard.Antoinette and I followed.As we came through the archway I saw Andre, Monsieur de St.Gre's mulatto, holding open the wicket for us to pass.He helped the ladies to mount the ponies, lengthened my own stirrups for me, swung into the saddle himself, and then the four of us were picking our way down the Rue Chartres at an easy amble.Turning to the right beyond the cool garden of the Ursulines, past the yellow barracks, we came to the river front beside the fortifications.A score of negroes were sweating there in the sun, swinging into position the long logs for the palisades, nearly completed.They were like those of Kaskaskia and our own frontier forts in Kentucky, with a forty-foot ditch in front of them.Seated on a horse talking to the overseer was a fat little man in white linen who pulled off his hat and bowed profoundly to the ladies.His face gave me a start, and then I remembered that I had seen him only the day before, resplendent, coming out of church.He was the Baron de Carondelet.
There was a sentry standing under a crape-myrtle where the Royal Road ran through the gateway.Behind him was a diminutive five-sided brick fort with a dozen little cannon on top of it.The sentry came forward, brought his musket to a salute, and halted before my horse.
``You will have to show your passport,'' murmured Madame la Vicomtesse.
I drew the document from my pocket.It was signed by De Lemos, and duly countersigned by the officer of the port.The man bowed, and I passed on.
It was a strange, silent ride through the stinging heat to Les Iles, the brown dust hanging behind us like a cloud, to settle slowly on the wayside shrubbery.Across the levee bank the river was low, listless, giving off hot breath like a monster in distress.The forest pools were cracked and dry, the Spanish moss was a haggard gray, and under the sun was the haze which covered the land like a saffron mantle.At times a listlessness came over me such as Ihad never known, to make me forget the presence of the women at my side, the very errand on which we rode.
From time to time I was roused into admiration of the horsemanship of Madame la Vicomtesse, for the restive Texas pony which she rode was stung to madness by the flies.
As for Antoinette, she glanced neither right nor left through her veil, but rode unmindful of the way, heedless of heat and discomfort, erect, motionless save for the easy gait of her horse.At length we turned into the avenue through the forest, lined by wild orange trees, came in sight of the low, belvedered plantation house, and drew rein at the foot of the steps.Antoinette was the first to dismount, and passed in silence through the group of surprised house servants gathering at the door.I assisted the Vicomtesse, who paused to bid the negroes disperse, and we lingered for a moment on the gallery together.
``Poor Antoinette!'' she said, ``I wish we might have saved her this.'' She looked up at me.``How she defended him!'' she exclaimed.
``She loves him,'' I answered.
Madame la Vicomtesse sighed.
``I suppose there is no help for it,'' she said.``But it is very difficult not to be angry with Mr.Temple.The girl cared for his mother, gave her a home, clung to her when he and the world would have cast her off, sacrificed her happiness for them both.If I see him, I believe Ishall shake him.And if he doesn't fall down on his knees to her, I shall ask the Baron to hang him.We must bring him to his senses, Mr.Ritchie.He must not leave Louisiana until he sees her.Then he will marry her.''
She paused, scrutinized me in her quick way, and added:
``You see that I take your estimation of his character.
You ought to be flattered.''
``I am flattered by any confidence you repose in me, Madame la Vicomtesse.''
She laughed.I was not flattered then, but cursed myself for the quaint awkwardness in my speech that amused her.And she was astonishingly quick to perceive my moods.
``There, don't be angry.You will never be a courtier, my honest friend, and you may thank God for it.How sweet the shrubs are! Your chief business in life seems to be getting people out of trouble, and I am going to help you with this case.''
It was my turn to laugh.
``You are going to help!'' I exclaimed.``My services have been heavy, so far.''
``You should not walk around at night,'' she replied irrelevantly.
