XXV
"HE MUST WAIT," SAYS ANNA
About the middle of the first week in April--when the men left in thestores of Common, Gravier, Poydras, or Tchoupitoulas street could donothing but buy the same goods back and forth in speculation; loathed byall who did not do it, or whittle their chairs on the shedded sidewalksand swap and swallow flaming rumors and imprecate the universal inactionand mis-management--there embarked for Pensacola--
"What? Kincaid's Bat--?"
"No-o, the Zouaves! Infantry! when the one only sane thing to do," criedevery cannoneer of Camp Callender--in its white lanes or on three-hours'leave at home on Bayou Road or Coliseum Square or Elysian Fields orPrytania street--"the one sane thing to do," insisted the growinglyprofane lads to their elders, and assented the secretly pained elders tothem, "the one thing that, if only for shame's sake, ought to have beendone long ago, was to _knock_ Fort Pickens to HELL with SHELL!" Sadlyoften they added the tritest three-monosyllabled expletive known tored-hot English.
Charlie--mm-mm! how he could rip it out! Sam Gibbs, our veritable Sam,sergeant of the boy's gun, "Roaring Betsy," privately remarked to theCaptain what a blank-blank shame it was, not for its trivial self, ofcourse, but in view of the corruptions to which it opened the way. Andthe blithe commander, in the seclusion of his tent, standing over thelad and holding him tenderly by both pretty ears, preached to him of hissister and grandmother until with mute rage the youngster burned as redas his jacket facings; and then of the Callenders--"who gave us ourguns, and one of whom is the godmother of our flag, Charlie"--until thetears filled Charlie's eyes, and he said:
"I'll try, Captain, but it's--oh, it's no use! If anything could make meswear _worse_"--he smiled despairingly--"it would be the hope of beinghauled up again for another talk like this!"
One Sunday, three days after the going of the Zouaves, while out inJackson Square "Roaring Betsy" sang a solo of harrowing thunder-claps,the Callenders and Valcours, under the cathedral's roof, saw consecratedin its sacred nave the splendid standard of the Chasseurs-a-Pied.
Armed guards, keeping the rabble out, passed the ladies in before theprocession had appeared in the old Rue Conde. But now here it came, itsmusic swelling, the crowd--shabbier than last month and more vacant offace--parting before it. Carrying their sabres, but on foot and withouttheir pieces, heading the column as escort of honor, lo, Kincaid'sBattery; rearmost the Chasseurs, masses and masses of them; and inbetween, a silver crucifix lifted high above a body of acolytes in whitelace over purple, ranks of black-gowned priests, a succession ofcloth-of-gold ecclesiastics, and in their midst the mitred archbishop.
But the battery! What a change since last February! Every man as spruceas ever, but with an added air of tested capability that inspired allbeholders. Only their German musicians still seemed fresh from the mint,and oh! in what unlucky taste, considering the ecclesiastics, the songthey brayed forth in jaunty staccato.
"They're offering us that hand of theirs again," murmured Anna toConstance, standing in a side pew; but suddenly the strain ceased, sheheard Hilary's voice of command turning the column, and presently,through a lane made by his men, the Chasseurs marched in to the nave,packed densely and halted. Then in close order the battery itselffollowed and stood. Now the loud commands were in here. Strange it wasto hear them ring through the holy place (French to the Chasseurs,English to the battery), and the crashing musket-butts smite the pavedfloor as one weapon, to the flash of a hundred sabres.
So said to itself the diary on the afternoon of the next day, and therehurriedly left off. Not because of a dull rumble reaching the writer'sear from the Lake, where Kincaid and his lieutenants were testingnew-siege-guns, for that was what she was at this desk and window tohear; but because of the L.S.C.A., about to meet in the drawing-roombelow and be met by a friend of the family, a famed pulpit orator andgreater potentate, in many eyes, than even the Catholic archbishop.
He came, and later, in the battery camp with the Callenders, Valcours,and Victorine, the soldiers clamoring for a speech, ran them wildreminding them with what unique honor and peculiar responsibility theywere the champions of their six splendid guns. In a jostling crowd, yetwith a fine decorum, they brought out their standard and--not to beoutdone by any Chasseurs under the sky--obliged Anna to stand beside itssergeant, Maxime, and with him hold it while the man of God invokedHeaven to bless it and bless all who should follow it afield or pray forit at home. So dazed was she that only at the "amen" did she perceivehow perfectly the tables had been turned on her. For only then did shediscover that Hilary Kincaid had joined the throng exactly in time tosee the whole tableau.
Every officer of the camp called that evening, to say graceful things,Kincaid last. As he was leaving he wanted to come to the same old point,but she would not let him. Oh! how could she, a scant six hours aftersuch a _bid_ from herself? He ought to have seen she couldn't--andwouldn't! But he never saw anything--of that sort. Ladies' man indeed!He couldn't read a girl's mind even when she wanted it read. He wentaway looking so haggard--and yet so tender--and still so determined--shecould not sleep for hours. Nevertheless--
"I can't help his looks, Con, he's got to wait! I owe that to allwomanhood! He's got to practise to me what he preaches to his men. Why,Connie, if _I'm_ willing to wait, why shouldn't he be? Why--?"
Constance fled.
Next day, dining with Doctor Sevier, said the Doctor, "That chap'sworking himself to death, Anna," and gave his fair guest such a sternwhite look that she had to answer flippantly.
She and Hilary were paired at table and talked of Flora, he telling howgood a friend to her Flora was. The topic was easier, between them, thanat any other time since the loss of the gold. Always before, she hadfelt him thinking of that loss and trying to guess something about her;but now she did not, for on Sunday, in the cathedral, Flora had told herat last, ever so gratefully and circumstantially, that she had repaidthe Captain everything! yes, the same day on which she had first toldAnna of the loss; and there was nothing now left to do but for her toreimburse Anna the moment she could.
Hilary spoke of Adolphe's devotion to Flora--hoped he would win. Toldwith great amusement how really well his cousin had done with hergovernment claim--sold it to his Uncle Brodnax! And Flora--howpicturesque everything she did!--had put--? yes, they both knew thesecret--had put the proceeds into one of those beautiful towboats thatwere being fitted up as privateers! Hilary laughed with delight. Yes, itwas for that sort of thing the boys were so fond of her. But when Annaavowed a frank envy he laughed with a peculiar tenderness that thrilledboth him and her, and murmured:
"The dove might as well envy the mocking-bird."
"If I were a dove I certainly should," she said.
"Well, you are, and you shouldn't!" said he.
All of which Flora caught; if not the words, so truly the spirit thatthe words were no matter.
"Just as we were starting home," soliloquized, that night, our diary,"the newsboys came crying all around, that General Beauregard had openedfire on Fort Sumter, and the war has begun. Poor Constance! it's littleshe'll sleep to-night."