MADAME DELICIEUSE
Just adjoining the old Cafe de Poesie on the corner, stood the littleone-story, yellow-washed tenement of Dr. Mossy, with its two glass doorsprotected by batten shutters, and its low, weed-grown tile roof slopingout over the sidewalk. You were very likely to find the Doctor in, forhe was a great student and rather negligent of his business--asbusiness. He was a small, sedate, Creole gentleman of thirty or more,with a young-old face and manner that provoked instant admiration. Hewould receive you--be you who you may--in a mild, candid manner, lookinginto your face with his deep blue eyes, and re-assuring you with amodest, amiable smile, very sweet and rare on a man's mouth.
To be frank, the Doctor's little establishment was dusty anddisorderly--very. It was curious to see the jars, and jars, and jars. Inthem were serpents and hideous fishes and precious specimens of manysorts. There were stuffed birds on broken perches; and dried lizards,and eels, and little alligators, and old skulls with their crowns sawedoff, and ten thousand odd scraps of writing-paper strewn with crumbs oflonely lunches, and interspersed with long-lost spatulas and rust-eatenlancets.
All New Orleans, at least all Creole New Orleans, knew, and yet did notknow, the dear little Doctor. So gentle, so kind, so skilful, sopatient, so lenient; so careless of the rich and so attentive to thepoor; a man, all in all, such as, should you once love him, you wouldlove him forever. So very learned, too, but with apparently no idea ofhow to _show himself_ to his social profit,--two features much moresmiled at than respected, not to say admired, by a people remote fromthe seats of learning, and spending most of their esteem upon animalheroisms and exterior display.
"Alas!" said his wealthy acquaintances, "what a pity; when he might aswell be rich."
"Yes, his father has plenty."
"Certainly, and gives it freely. But intends his son shall see none ofit."
"His son? You dare not so much as mention him."
"Well, well, how strange! But they can never agree--not even upon theirname. Is not that droll?--a man named General Villivicencio, and hisson, Dr. Mossy!"
"Oh, that is nothing; it is only that the Doctor drops the _deVillivicencio_."
"Drops the _de Villivicencio?_ but I think the _de Villivicencio_ dropshim, ho, ho, ho,--_diable!_"
Next to the residence of good Dr. Mossy towered the narrow,red-brick-front mansion of young Madame Delicieuse, firm friend at onceand always of those two antipodes, General Villivicencio and Dr. Mossy.Its dark, covered carriage-way was ever rumbling, and, with nightfall,its drawing-rooms always sent forth a luxurious light from thelace-curtained windows of the second-story balconies.
It was one of the sights of the Rue Royale to see by night its tall,narrow outline reaching high up toward the stars, with all its windowsaglow.
The Madame had had some tastes of human experience; had been betrothedat sixteen (to a man she did not love, "being at that time a fool," asshe said); one summer day at noon had been a bride, and at sundown--awidow. Accidental discharge of the tipsy bridegroom's own pistol. Passit by! It left but one lasting effect on her, a special detestation ofquarrels and weapons.
The little maidens whom poor parentage has doomed to sit upon streetdoor-sills and nurse their infant brothers have a game of "choosing" thebeautiful ladies who sweep by along the pavement; but in Rue Royalethere was no choosing; every little damsel must own Madame Delicieuse ornobody, and as that richly adorned and regal favorite of old GeneralVillivicencio came along they would lift their big, bold eyes away up toher face and pour forth their admiration in a universal--"Ah-h-h-h!"
But, mark you, she was good Madame Delicieuse as well as fair MadameDelicieuse: her principles, however, not constructed in the austereAnglo-Saxon style, exactly (what need, with the lattice of theConfessional not a stone's throw off?). Her kind offices and beneficentschemes were almost as famous as General Villivicencio's splendid alms;if she could at times do what the infantile Washington said he couldnot, why, no doubt she and her friends generally looked upon it as amere question of enterprise.
She had charms, too, of intellect--albeit not such a sinner against timeand place as to be an "educated woman"--charms that, even in a plainerperson, would have brought down the half of New Orleans upon one knee,with both hands on the left side. _She_ had the _whole_ city at herfeet, and, with the fine tact which was the perfection of her character,kept it there contented. Madame was, in short, one of the kind thatgracefully wrest from society the prerogative of doing as they please,and had gone even to such extravagant lengths as driving out in the_Americain_ faubourg, learning the English tongue, talking nationalpolitics, and similar freaks whereby she provoked the unbounded worshipof her less audacious lady friends. In the centre of the cluster ofCreole beauties which everywhere gathered about her, and, most of all,in those incomparable companies which assembled in her own splendiddrawing-rooms, she was always queen lily. Her house, her drawing-rooms,etc.; for the little brown aunt who lived with her was a mere piece ofcurious furniture.
There was this notable charm about Madame Delicieuse, she improved bycomparison. She never looked so grand as when, hanging on GeneralVillivicencio's arm at some gorgeous ball, these two bore down on youlike a royal barge lashed to a ship-of-the-line. She never looked solike her sweet name, as when she seated her prettiest lady adorers closearound her, and got them all a-laughing.
Of the two balconies which overhung the _banquette_ on the front of theDelicieuse house, one was a small affair, and the other a deeper andbroader one, from which Madame and her ladies were wont upon gala daysto wave handkerchiefs and cast flowers to the friends in theprocessions. There they gathered one Eighth of January morning to seethe military display. It was a bright blue day, and the group that quitefilled the balcony had laid wrappings aside, as all flower-buds are aptto do on such Creole January days, and shone resplendent in springattire.
The sight-seers passing below looked up by hundreds and smiled at theladies' eager twitter, as, flirting in humming-bird fashion from onesubject to another, they laughed away the half-hours waiting for thepageant. By and by they fell a-listening, for Madame Delicieuse hadbegun a narrative concerning Dr. Mossy. She sat somewhat above herlisteners, her elbow on the arm of her chair, and her plump white handwaving now and then in graceful gesture, they silently attending witheyes full of laughter and lips starting apart.
"_Vous savez_," she said (they conversed in French of course), "you knowit is now long that Dr. Mossy and his father have been in disaccord.Indeed, when have they not differed? For, when Mossy was but a littleboy, his father thought it hard that he was not a rowdy. He switched himonce because he would not play with his toy gun and drum. He was not sohigh when his father wished to send him to Paris to enter the Frencharmy; but he would not go. We used to play often together on the_banquette_--for I am not so very many years younger than he, noindeed--and, if I wanted some fun, I had only to pull his hair and runinto the house; he would cry, and monsieur papa would come out with hishand spread open and"--
Madame gave her hand a malicious little sweep, and Joined heartily inthe laugh which followed.
"That was when they lived over the way. But wait! you shall see: I havesomething. This evening the General"--
The houses of Rue Royale gave a start and rattled their windows. In thelong, irregular line of balconies the beauty of the city rose up. Thenthe houses jumped again and the windows rattled; Madame steps inside thewindow and gives a message which the housemaid smiles at in receiving.As she turns the houses shake again, and now again; and now there comesa distant strain of trumpets, and by and by the drums and bayonets andclattering hoofs, and plumes and dancing banners; far down the longstreet stretch out the shining ranks of gallant men, and the fluttering,over-leaning swarms of ladies shower down their sweet favors and wavetheir countless welcomes.
In the front, towering above his captains, rides General Villivicencio,veteran of 1814-15, and, with the gracious pomp of the old-timegentleman, lifts his cocked hat, and bows, and bows.
Madame Delicieuse's balcony was a perfect maze of waving kerchiefs. TheGeneral looked up for the woman of all women; she was not there. But heremembered the other balcony, the smaller one, and cast his glanceonward to it. There he saw Madame and one other person only. A smallblue-eyed, broad-browed, scholarly-looking man whom the arch lady hadlured from his pen by means of a mock professional summons, and who nowstood beside her, a smile of pleasure playing on his lips and about hiseyes.
"_Vite!_" said Madame, as the father's eyes met the son's. Dr. Mossylifted his arm and cast a bouquet of roses. A girl in the crowd boundedforward, caught it in the air, and, blushing, handed it to the plumedgiant. He bowed low, first to the girl, then to the balcony above; andthen, with a responsive smile, tossed up two splendid kisses, one toMadame, and one, it seemed--
"For what was that cheer?"
"Why, did you not see? General Villivicencio cast a kiss to his son."
The staff of General Villivicencio were a faithful few who had not bowedthe knee to any abomination of the Americains, nor sworn deceitfully toany species of compromise; their beloved city was presently to pass intothe throes of an election, and this band, heroically unconscious oftheir feebleness, putting their trust in "re-actions" and likedelusions, resolved to make one more stand for the traditions of theirfathers. It was concerning this that Madame Delicieuse was incidentallyabout to speak when interrupted by the boom of cannon; they had promisedto meet at her house that evening.
They met. With very little discussion or delay (for their minds weremade up beforehand), it was decided to announce in the French-Englishnewspaper that, at a meeting of leading citizens, it had been thoughtconsonant with the public interest to place before the people the nameof General Hercule Mossy de Villivicencio. No explanation was considerednecessary. All had been done in strict accordance with time-honoredcustoms, and if any one did not know it it was his own fault. Noeulogium was to follow, no editorial indorsement. The two announcementswere destined to stand next morning, one on the English side and one onthe French, in severe simplicity, to be greeted with profoundgratification by a few old gentlemen in blue cottonade, and by roars oflaughter from a rampant majority.
As the junto were departing, sparkling Madame Delicieuse detained theGeneral at the head of the stairs that descended into the tiledcarriage-way, to wish she was a man, that she might vote for him.
"But, General," she said, "had I not a beautiful bouquet of ladies on mybalcony this morning?"
The General replied, with majestic gallantry, that "it was asmagnificent as could be expected with the central rose wanting." And soMadame was disappointed, for she was trying to force the General tomention his son. "I will bear this no longer; he shall not rest," shehad said to her little aunt, "until he has either kissed his son orquarrelled with him."
To which the aunt had answered that, "_coute que coute_, she need notcry about it;" nor did she. Though the General's compliment had foiledher thrust, she answered gayly to the effect that enough was enough;"but, ah! General," dropping her voice to an undertone, "if you hadheard what some of those rosebuds said of you!"
The old General pricked up like a country beau. Madame laughed toherself, "Monsieur Peacock, I have thee;" but aloud she said gravely:
"Come into the drawing-room, if you please, and seat yourself. You mustbe greatly fatigued."
The friends who waited below overheard the invitation.
"_Au revoir, General_," said they.
"_Au revoir, Messieurs,_" he answered, and followed the lady.
"General," said she, as if her heart were overflowing, "you have beenspoken against. Please sit down."
"Is that true, Madame?"
"Yes, General."
She sank into a luxurious chair.
"A lady said to-day--but you will be angry with me, General."
"With you, Madame? That is not possible."
"I do not love to make revelations, General; but when a noble friend isevil spoken of"--she leaned her brow upon her thumb and forefinger, andlooked pensively at her slipper's toe peeping out at the edge of herskirt on the rich carpet--"one's heart gets very big."
"Madame, you are an angel! But what said she, Madame?"
"Well, General, I have to tell you the whole truth, if you will not beangry. We were all speaking at once of handsome men. She said to me:'Well, Madame Delicieuse, you may say what you will of GeneralVillivicencio, and I suppose it is true; but everybody knows'--pardonme, General, but just so she said--'all the world knows he treats hisson very badly.'"
"It is not true," said the General.
"If I wasn't angry!" said Madame, making a pretty fist. 'How can thatbe?' I said. 'Well,' she said, 'mamma says he has been angry with hisson for fifteen years.' 'But what did his son do?' I said. 'Nothing,'said she. '_Ma foi_,' I said, 'me, I too would be angry if my son haddone nothing for fifteen years'--ho, ho, ho!"
"It is not true," said the General.
The old General cleared his throat, and smiled as by compulsion.
"You know, General," said Madame, looking distressed, "it was nothing tojoke about, but I had to say so, because I did not know what your sonhad done, nor did I wish to hear any thing against one who has the honorto call you his father."
She paused a moment to let the flattery take effect, and then proceeded:
"But then another lady said to me; she said, 'For shame, Clarisse, tolaugh at good Dr. Mossy; nobody--neither General Villivicencio, neitherany other, has a right to be angry against that noble, gentle, kind,brave'"--
"Brave!" said the General, with a touch of irony. "So she said,"answered Madame Delicieuse, "and I asked her, 'how brave?' 'Brave?' shesaid, 'why, braver than _any soldier_, in tending the small-pox, thecholera, the fevers, and all those horrible things. Me, I saw his fatheronce run from a snake; I think _he_ wouldn't fight the small-pox--myfaith!' she said, 'they say that Dr. Mossy does all that and never wearsa scapula!--and does it nine hundred and ninety-nine times in a thousandfor nothing! _Is_ that brave, Madame Delicieuse, or is it not?'--And,General,--what could I say?"
Madame dropped her palms on either side of her spreading robes andwaited pleadingly for an answer. There was no sound but the drumming ofthe General's fingers on his sword-hilt. Madame resumed:
"I said, 'I do not deny that Mossy is a noble gentleman;'--I had to saythat, had I not, General?"
"Certainly, Madame," said the General, "my son is a gentleman, yes."
"'But,' I said, 'he should not make Monsieur, his father, angry.'"
"True," said the General, eagerly.
"But that lady said: 'Monsieur, his father, makes himself angry,' shesaid. 'Do you know, Madame, why his father is angry so long?' Anotherlady says, 'I know!' 'For what?' said I. 'Because he refused to become asoldier; mamma told me that.' 'It cannot be!' I said."
The General flushed. Madame saw it, but relentlessly continued:
"'_Mais oui_,' said that lady. 'What!' I said, 'think you GeneralVillivicencio will not rather be the very man most certain to respect ason who has the courage to be his own master? Oh, what does he want witha poor fool of a son who will do only as he says? You think he will lovehim less for healing instead of killing? Mesdemoiselles, you do not knowthat noble soldier!'"
The noble soldier glowed, and bowed his acknowledgments in a dubious,half remonstrative way, as if Madame might be producing material for hernext confession, as, indeed, she diligently was doing; but she wentstraight on once more, as a surgeon would.
"But that other lady said: 'No, Madame, no, ladies, but I am going totell you why Monsieur, the General, is angry with his son.' 'Very well,why?'--'Why? It is just--because--he is--a little man!'"
General Villivicencio stood straight up.
"Ah! mon ami," cried the lady, rising excitedly, "I have wounded you andmade you angry, with my silly revelations. Pardon me, my friend. Thosewere foolish girls, and, anyhow, they admired you. They said you lookedglorious--grand--at the head of the procession."
Now, all
at once, the General felt the tremendous fatigues of the day;there was a wild, swimming, whirling sensation in his head that forcedhim to let his eyelids sink down; yet, just there, in the midst of hispainful bewilderment, he realized with ecstatic complacency that themost martial-looking man in Louisiana was standing in his spurs with thehand of Louisiana's queenliest woman laid tenderly on his arm.
"I am a wretched tattler!" said she.
"Ah! no, Madame, you are my dearest friend, yes.'
"Well, anyhow, I called them fools. 'Ah! innocent creatures,' I said,'think you a man of his sense and goodness, giving his thousands to thesick and afflicted, will cease to love his only son because he is notbig like a horse or quarrelsome like a dog? No, ladies, there is a greatreason which none of you know.' 'Well, well,' they cried, 'tell it; hehas need of a very good reason; tell it now.' 'My ladies,' I said, 'Imust not'--for, General, for all the world I knew not a reason why youshould be angry against your son; you know, General, you have never toldme."
The beauty again laid her hand on his arm and gazed, with round-eyedsimplicity, into his sombre countenance. For an instant her witchery hadalmost conquered.
"Nay, Madame, some day I shall tell you; I have more than one burden_here_. But let me ask you to be seated, for I have a question, also,for you, which I have longed to ask. It lies heavily upon my heart; Imust ask it now. A matter of so great importance"--
Madame's little brown aunt gave a faint cough from a dim corner of theroom.
"'Tis a beautiful night," she remarked, and stepped out on the balcony.
Then the General asked his question. It was a very long question, or,maybe, repeated twice or thrice; for it was fully ten minutes before hemoved out of the room, saying good-evening.
Ah! old General Villivicencio. The most martial-looking man inLouisiana! But what would the people, the people who cheered in themorning, have said, to see the fair Queen Delicieuse at the top of thestair, sweetly bowing you down into the starlight,--humbled,crestfallen, rejected!
The campaign opened. The Villivicencio ticket was read in French andEnglish with the very different sentiments already noted. In theExchange, about the courts, among the "banks," there was lively talkingconcerning its intrinsic excellence and extrinsic chances. The younggentlemen who stood about the doors of the so-called "coffee-houses"talked with a frantic energy alarming to any stranger, and just when youwould have expected to see them jump and bite large mouthfuls out ofeach other's face, they would turn and enter the door, talking on in thesame furious manner, and, walking up to the bar, click their glasses tothe success of the Villivicencio ticket. Sundry swarthy and wrinkledremnants of an earlier generation were still more enthusiastic. Therewas to be a happy renaissance; a purging out of Yankee ideas; a blessedhome-coming of those good old Bourbon morals and manners which Yankeenotions had expatriated. In the cheerfulness of their anticipations theyeven went the length of throwing their feet high in air, thus indicatinghow the Villivicencio ticket was going to give "doze Americains" thekick under the nose.
In the three or four weeks which followed, the General gathered asurfeit of adulation, notwithstanding which he was constantly and withpain imagining a confused chatter of ladies, and when he shut his eyeswith annoyance, there was Madame Delicieuse standing, and saying, "Iknew not a reason why you should be angry against your son," gazing inhis face with hardened simplicity, and then--that last scene on thestairs wherein he seemed still to be descending, down, down.
Madame herself was keeping good her resolution.
"Now or never," she said, "a reconciliation or a quarrel."
When the General, to keep up appearances, called again, she so moved himwith an account of certain kindly speeches of her own invention, whichshe imputed to Dr. Mossy, that he promised to call and see his son;"perhaps;" "pretty soon;" "probably."
Dr. Mossy, sitting one February morning among his specimens and books ofreference, finishing a thrilling chapter on the cuticle, too absorbed tohear a door open, suddenly realized that something was in his light,and, looking up, beheld General Villivicencio standing over him.Breathing a pleased sigh, he put down his pen, and, rising on tiptoe,laid his hand upon his father's shoulder, and lifting his lips like alittle wife, kissed him.
"Be seated, papa," he said, offering his own chair, and perching on thedesk.
The General took it, and, clearing his throat, gazed around upon thejars and jars with their little Adams and Eves in zooelogical gardens.
"Is all going well, papa?" finally asked Dr. Mossy.
"Yes."
Then there was a long pause.
"'Tis a beautiful day," said the son.
"Very beautiful," rejoined the father.
"I thought there would have been a rain, but it has cleared off," saidthe son.
"Yes," responded the father, and drummed on the desk.
"Does it appear to be turning cool?" asked the son.
"No; it does not appear to be turning cool at all," was the answer.
"H'm 'm!" said Dr. Mossy.
"Hem!" said General Villivicencio.
Dr. Mossy, not realizing his own action, stole a glance at hismanuscript.
"I am interrupting you," said the General, quickly, and rose.
"No, no! pardon me; be seated; it gives me great pleasure to--I did notknow what I was doing. It is the work with which I fill my leisuremoments."
So the General settled down again, and father and son sat very close toeach other--in a bodily sense; spiritually they were many miles apart.The General's finger-ends, softly tapping the desk, had the sound offar-away drums.
"The city--it is healthy?" asked the General.
"Did you ask me if"--said the little Doctor, starting and looking up.
"The city--it has not much sickness at present?" repeated the father.
"No, yes--not much," said Mossy, and, with utter unconsciousness, leaneddown upon his elbow and supplied an omitted word to the manuscript.
The General was on his feet as if by the touch of a spring.
"I must go!"
"Ah! no, papa," said the son.
"But, yes, I must."
"But wait, papa, I had just now something to speak of"--
"Well?" said the General, standing with his hand on the door, and withrather a dark countenance.
Dr. Mossy touched his fingers to his forehead, trying to remember.
"I fear I have--ah! I rejoice to see your name before the public, dearpapa, and at the head of the ticket."
The General's displeasure sank down like an eagle's feathers. He smiledthankfully, and bowed.
"My friends compelled me," he said.
"They think you will be elected?"
"They will not doubt it. But what think you, my son?"
Now the son had a conviction which it would have been madness toexpress, so he only said:
"They could not elect one more faithful."
The General bowed solemnly.
"Perhaps the people will think so; my friends believe they will."
"Your friends who have used your name should help you as much as theycan, papa," said the Doctor. "Myself, I should like to assist you, papa,if I could."
"A-bah!" said the pleased father, incredulously.
"But, yes," said the son.
A thrill of delight filled the General's frame. _This_ was like a son.
"Thank you, my son! I thank you much. Ah, Mossy, my dear boy, you makeme happy!"
"But," added Mossy, realizing with a tremor how far he had gone, "I seenot how it is possible."
The General's chin dropped.
"Not being a public man," continued the Doctor; "unless, indeed, mypen--you might enlist my pen."
He paused with a smile of bashful inquiry. The General stood aghast fora moment, and then caught the idea.
"Certainly! cer-tain-ly! ha, ha, ha!"--backing out of thedoor--"certainly! Ah! Mossy, you are right, to be sure; to make acomplete world we must have swords _and_ pens. Well, my son, '_aurevoir;_' no, I
cannot stay--I will return. I hasten to tell my friendsthat the pen of Dr. Mossy is on our side! Adieu, dear son."
Standing outside on the _banquette_ he bowed--not to Dr. Mossy, but tothe balcony of the big red-brick front--a most sunshiny smile, anddeparted.
The very next morning, as if fate had ordered it, the Villivicencioticket was attacked--ambushed, as it were, from behind the Americainnewspaper. The onslaught was--at least General Villivicencio said itwas--absolutely ruffianly. Never had all the lofty courtesies andformalities of chivalric contest been so completely ignored. Poisonedballs--at least personal epithets--were used. The General himself wascalled "antiquated!" The friends who had nominated him, they werepositively sneered at; dubbed "fossils," "old ladies," and their caucustermed "irresponsible"--thunder and lightning! gentlemen of honor to betermed "not responsible!" It was asserted that the nomination was madesecretly, in a private house, by two or three unauthorized harum-scarums(that touched the very bone) who had with more caution than proprietywithheld their names. The article was headed, "The Crayfish-eaters'Ticket." It continued further to say that, had not the publication ofthis ticket been regarded as a dull hoax, it would not have beensuffered to pass for two weeks unchallenged, and that it was now hightime the universal wish should be realized in its withdrawal.
Among the earliest readers of this production was the young Madame. Shefirst enjoyed a quiet gleeful smile over it, and then called:
"Ninide, here, take this down to Dr. Mossy--stop." She marked thecommunication heavily with her gold pencil. "No answer; he need notreturn it."
About the same hour, and in a neighboring street, one of the "notresponsibles" knocked on the Villivicencio castle gate. The Generalinvited him into his bedroom. With a short and strictly profane haranguethe visitor produced the offensive newspaper, and was about to beginreading, when one of those loud nasal blasts, so peculiar to the Gaul,resounded at the gate, and another "not responsible" entered, moreexcited, if possible, than the first. Several minutes were spent inexchanging fierce sentiments and slapping the palm of the left handrapidly with the back of the right. Presently there was a pause forbreath.
"Alphonse, proceed to read," said the General, sitting up in bed.
"De Crayfish-eaters' Ticket"--began Alphonse; but a third rapping at thegate interrupted him, and a third "irresponsible" re-enforced theirnumber, talking loudly and wildly to the waiting-man as he came up thehall.
Finally, Alphonse read the article. Little by little the incensedgentlemen gave it a hearing, now two words and now three, interruptingit to rip out long, rasping maledictions, and wag their forefingers ateach other as they strode ferociously about the apartment.
As Alphonse reached the close, and dashed the paper to the floor, thewhole quartet, in terrific unison, cried for the blood of the editor.
But hereupon the General spoke with authority.
"No, Messieurs," he said, buttoning his dressing-gown, savagely, "youshall not fight him. I forbid it--you shall not!"
"But," cried the three at once, "one of us must fight, and you--youcannot; if _you_ fight our cause is lost! The candidate must not fight."
"Hah-h! Messieurs," cried the hero, beating his breast and lifting hiseyes, "_grace au ciel_. I have a son. Yes, my beloved friends, a son whoshall call the villain out and make him pay for his impudence withblood, or eat his words in to-morrow morning's paper. Heaven be thankedthat gave me a son for this occasion! I shall see him at once--as soonas I can dress."
"We will go with you."
"No, gentlemen, let me see my son alone. I can meet you at Maspero's intwo hours. Adieu, my dear friends."
He was resolved.
"_Au, revoir,_," said the dear friends.
Shortly after, cane in hand, General Villivicencio moved with an irefulstride up the _banquette_ of Rue Royale. Just as he passed the red-brickfront one of the batten shutters opened the faintest bit, and a certainpair of lovely eyes looked after him, without any of that roundsimplicity which we have before discovered in them. As he half turned toknock at his son's door he glanced at this very shutter, but it was astightly closed as though the house were an enchanted palace.
Dr. Mossy's door, on the contrary, swung ajar when he knocked, and theGeneral entered.
"Well, my son, have you seen that newspaper? No, I think not. I _see_you have not, since your cheeks are not red with shame and anger."
Dr. Mossy looked up with astonishment from the desk where he satwriting.
"What is that, papa?"
"My faith! Mossy, is it possible you have not heard of the attack uponme, which has surprised and exasperated the city this morning?"
"No," said Dr. Mossy, with still greater surprise, and laying his handon the arm of his chair.
His father put on a dying look. "My soul!" At that moment his glancefell upon the paper which had been sent in by Madame Delicieuse. "But,Mossy, my son," he screamed, "_there_ it is!" striking it rapidly withone finger--"there! there! there! read it! It calls me 'notresponsible!' 'not responsible' it calls me! Read! read!"
"But, papa," said the quiet little Doctor, rising, and accepting thecrumpled paper thrust at him, "I have read this. If this is it, well,then, already I am preparing to respond to it."
The General seized him violently, and, spreading a suffocating kiss onhis face, sealed it with an affectionate oath.
"Ah, Mossy, my boy, you are glorious! You had begun already to write!You are glorious! Read to me what you have written, my son."
The Doctor took up a bit of manuscript, and resuming his chair, began:
"MESSRS. EDITORS: On your journal of this morning"--
"Eh! how! you have not written it in English, is it, son?"
"But, yes, papa."
"'Tis a vile tongue," said the General; "but, if it isnecessary--proceed."
"MESSRS. EDITORS: On your journal of this morning is published aneditorial article upon the Villivicencio ticket, which is plentiful andabundant with mistakes. Who is the author or writer of the above saideditorial article your correspondent does at present ignore, but doubtsnot he is one who, hasty to form an opinion, will yet, however, make hisassent to the correction of some errors and mistakes which"--
"Bah!" cried the General.
Dr. Mossy looked up, blushing crimson.
"Bah!" cried the General, still more forcibly. "Betise!"
"How?" asked the gentle son.
"'Tis all nonsent!" cried the General, bursting into English. "Hall you'ave to say is: ''Sieur Editeurs! I want you s'all give de nem of deindignan' scoundrel who meek some lies on you' paper about mon Pere etses amis!"
"Ah-h!" said Dr. Mossy, in a tone of derision and anger.
His father gazed at him in mute astonishment. He stood beside hisdisorderly little desk, his small form drawn up, a hand thrust into hisbreast, and that look of invincibility in his eyes such as blue eyessometimes surprise us with.
"You want me to fight," he said.
"My faith!" gasped the General, loosening in all his joints. "Ibelieve--you may cut me in pieces if I do not believe you were going toreason it out in the newspaper! Fight? If I want you to fight? Upon mysoul, I believe you do not want to fight!"
"No," said Mossy.
"My God!" whispered the General. His heart seemed to break.
"Yes," said the steadily gazing Doctor, his lips trembling as he openedthem. "Yes, your God. I am afraid"--
"Afraid!" gasped the General.
"Yes," rang out the Doctor, "afraid; afraid! God forbid that I shouldnot be afraid. But I will tell you what I do not fear--I do not fear tocall your affairs of honor--murder!"
"My son!" cried the father.
"I retract," cried the son; "consider it unsaid. I will never reproachmy father."
"It is well," said the father. "I was wrong. It is my quarrel. I go tosettle it myself."
Dr. Mossy moved quickly between his father and the door. GeneralVillivicencio stood before him utterly bowed down.
"What will you?" sadly
demanded the old man.
"Papa," said the son, with much tenderness, "I cannot permit you.Fifteen years we were strangers, and yesterday were friends. You mustnot leave me so. I will even settle this quarrel for you. You must letme. I am pledged to your service."
The peace-loving little doctor did not mean "to settle," but "toadjust." He felt in an instant that he was misunderstood; yet, as quietpeople are apt to do, though not wishing to deceive, he let themisinterpretation stand. In his embarrassment he did not know withabsolute certainty what he should do himself.
The father's face--he thought of but one way to settle a quarrel--beganinstantly to brighten. "I would myself do it," he said, apologetically,"but my friends forbid it."
"And so do I," said the Doctor, "but I will go myself now, and will notreturn until all is finished. Give me the paper."
"My son, I do not wish to compel you."
There was something acid in the Doctor's smile as he answered:
"No; but give me the paper, if you please."
The General handed it.
"Papa," said the son, "you must wait here for my return."
"But I have an appointment at Maspero's at"--
"I will call and make excuse for you," said the son.
"Well," consented the almost happy father, "go, my son; I will stay. Butif some of your sick shall call?"
"Sit quiet," said the son. "They will think no one is here." And theGeneral noticed that the dust lay so thick on the panes that a personoutside would have to put his face close to the glass to see within.
In the course of half an hour the Doctor had reached the newspaperoffice, thrice addressed himself to the wrong person, finally found thecourteous editor, and easily convinced him that his father had beenimposed upon; but when Dr. Mossy went farther, and asked which one ofthe talented editorial staff had written the article:
"You see, Doctor," said the editor--"just step into my private office amoment."
They went in together. The next minute saw Dr. Mossy departing hurriedlyfrom the place, while the editor complacently resumed his pen, assuredthat he would not return.
General Villivicencio sat and waited among the serpents and innocents.His spirits began to droop again. Revolving Mossy's words, he could notescape the fear that possibly, after all, his son might compromise theVillivicencio honor in the interests of peace. Not that he preferred toput his son's life in jeopardy; he would not object to an adjustment,provided the enemy should beg for it. But if not, whom would his sonselect to perform those friendly offices indispensable in politequarrels? Some half-priest, half-woman? Some spectacled book-worm? Hesuffered.
The monotony of his passive task was relieved by one or two callers whohad the sagacity (or bad manners) to peer through the dirty glass, andthen open the door, to whom, half rising from his chair, he answered,with a polite smile, that the Doctor was out, nor could he say how longhe might be absent. Still the time dragged painfully, and he began atlength to wonder why Mossy did not return.
There came a rap at the glass door different from all the raps that hadforerun it--a fearless, but gentle, dignified, graceful rap; and theGeneral, before he looked round, felt in all his veins that it came fromthe young Madame. Yes, there was her glorious outline thrown side wiseupon the glass. He hastened and threw open the door, bending low at thesame instant, and extending his hand.
She extended hers also, but not to take his. With a calm dexterity thattook the General's breath, she reached between him and the door, andclosed it.
"What is the matter?" anxiously asked the General--for her face, inspite of its smile, was severe.
"General," she began, ignoring his inquiry--and, with all her Creolebows, smiles, and insinuating phrases, the severity of her countenancebut partially waned--"I came to see my physician--your son. Ah! General,when I find you reconciled to your son, it makes me think I am inheaven. You will let me say so? You will not be offended with the oldplaymate of your son?"
She gave him no time to answer.
"He is out, I think, is he not? But I am glad of it. It gives usoccasion to rejoice together over his many merits. For you know,General, in all the years of your estrangement, Mossy had no friend likemyself. I am proud to tell you so now; is it not so?"
The General was so taken aback that, when he had thanked her in amechanical way, he could say nothing else. She seemed to fall for alittle while into a sad meditation that embarrassed him beyond measure.But as he opened his mouth to speak, she resumed:
"Nobody knew him so well as I; though I, poor me, I could not altogetherunderstand him; for look you, General, he was--what do you think?--_agreat man_!--nothing less."
"How?" asked the General, not knowing what else to respond.
"You never dreamed of that, eh?" continued the lady. "But, of coursenot; nobody did but me. Some of those Americains, I suppose, knew it;but who would ever ask them? Here in Royal Street, in New Orleans, wherewe people know nothing and care nothing but for meat, drink, andpleasure, he was only Dr. Mossy, who gave pills. My faith! General, nowonder you were disappointed in your son, for you thought the same. Ah!yes, you did! But why did you not ask me, his old playmate? I knewbetter. I could have told you how your little son stood head andshoulders above the crowd. I could have told you some things toowonderful to believe. I could have told you that his name was known andhonored in the scientific schools of Paris, of London, of Germany! Yes!I could have shown you"--she warmed as she proceeded--"I could haveshown you letters (I begged them of him), written as between brother andbrother, from the foremost men of science and discovery!"
She stood up, her eyes flashing with excitement.
"But why did you never tell me?" cried the General.
"He never would allow me--but you--why did you not ask me? I will tellyou; you were too proud to mention your son. But he had pride to matchyours--ha!--achieving all--every thing--with an assumed name! 'Let metell your father,' I implored him; but--'let him find me out,' he said,and you never found him out. Ah! there he was fine. He would not, hesaid, though only for your sake, re-enter your affections as any thingmore or less than just--your son. Ha!"
And so she went on. Twenty times the old General was astonished anew,twenty times was angry or alarmed enough to cry out, but twenty timesshe would not be interrupted. Once he attempted to laugh, but again herhand commanded silence.
"Behold, Monsieur, all these dusty specimens, these revolting fragments.How have you blushed to know that our idle people laugh in their sleevesat these things! How have you blushed--and you his father! But why didyou not ask me? I could have told you: 'Sir, your son is not anapothecary; not one of these ugly things but has helped him on in theglorious path of discovery; discovery, General--your son--known inEurope as a scientific discoverer!' Ah-h! the blind people say, 'How isthat, that General Villivicencio should be dissatisfied with his son? Heis a good man, and a good doctor, only a little careless, that's all.'But _you_ were more blind still, for you shut your eyes tight like this;when, had you searched for his virtues as you did for his faults, you,too, might have known before it was too late what nobility, what beauty,what strength, were in the character of your poor, poor son!"
"Just Heaven! Madame, you shall not speak of my son as of one dead andburied! But, if you have some bad news"--
"Your son took your quarrel on his hands, eh?"
"I believe so--I think"--
"Well; I saw him an hour ago in search of your slanderer!"
"He must find him!" said the General, plucking up.
"But if the search is already over," slowly responded Madame.
The father looked one instant in her face, then rose with anexclamation:
"Where is my son? What has happened? Do you think I am a child, to betrifled with--a horse to be teased? Tell me of my son!"
Madame was stricken with genuine anguish.
"Take your chair," she begged; "wait; listen; take your chair."
"Never!" cried the General; "I am going to find my son--my
God! Madame,you have _locked this door_! What are you, that you should treat me so?Give me, this instant"--
"Oh! Monsieur, I beseech you to take your chair, and I will tell youall. You can do nothing now. Listen! suppose you should rush out andfind that your son had played the coward at last! Sit down and"--
"Ah! Madame, this is play!" cried the distracted man.
"But no; it is not play. Sit down; I want to ask you something."
He sank down and she stood over him, anguish and triumph strangelymingled in her beautiful face.
"General, tell me true; did you not force this quarrel into your son'shand? I _know_ he would not choose to have it. Did you not do it to testhis courage, because all these fifteen years you have made yourself afool with the fear that he became a student only to escape being asoldier? Did you not?"
Her eyes looked him through and through.
"And if I did?" demanded he with faint defiance.
"Yes! and if he has made dreadful haste and proved his courage?" askedshe.
"Well, then,"--the General straightened up triumphantly--"then he is myson!"
He beat the desk.
"And heir to your wealth, for example?"
"Certainly."
The lady bowed in solemn mockery.
"It will make him a magnificent funeral!"
The father bounded up and stood speechless, trembling from head to foot.Madame looked straight in his eye.
"Your son has met the writer of that article."
"Where?" the old man's lips tried to ask.
"Suddenly, unexpectedly, in a passage-way."
"My God! and the villain"--
"Lives!" cried Madame.
He rushed to the door, forgetting that it was locked.
"Give me that key!" he cried, wrenched at the knob, turned awaybewildered, turned again toward it, and again away; and at every stepand turn he cried, "Oh! my son, my son! I have killed my son! Oh! Mossy,my son, my little boy! Oh! my son, my son!"
Madame buried her face in her hands and sobbed aloud. Then the fatherhushed his cries and stood for a moment before her.
"Give me the key, Clarisse, let me go."
She rose and laid her face on his shoulder.
"What is it, Clarisse?" asked he.
"Your son and I were ten years betrothed."
"Oh, my child!"
"Because, being disinherited, he would not be me husband."
"Alas! would to God I had known it! Oh! Mossy, my son."
"Oh! Monsieur," cried the lady, clasping her hands, "forgive me--mournno more--your son is unharmed! I wrote the article--I am your recantingslanderer! Your son is hunting for me now. I told my aunt to misdirecthim. I slipped by him unseen in the carriage-way."
The wild old General, having already staggered back and rushed forwardagain, would have seized her in his arms, had not the little Doctorhimself at that instant violently rattled the door and shook his fingerat them playfully as he peered through the glass.
"Behold!" said Madame, attempting a smile: "open to your son; here isthe key."
She sank into a chair.
Father and son leaped into each other's arms; then turned to Madame:
"Ah! thou lovely mischief-maker"--
She had fainted away.
"Ah! well, keep out of the way, if you please, papa," said Dr. Mossy, asMadame presently reopened her eyes; "no wonder you fainted; you havefinished some hard work--see; here; no; Clarisse, dear, take this."
Father and son stood side by side, tenderly regarding her as sherevived.
"Now, papa, you may kiss her; she is quite herself again, already."
"My daughter!" said the stately General; "this--is my son's ransom; and,with this,--I withdraw the Villivicencio ticket."
"You shall not," exclaimed the laughing lady, throwing her arms abouthis neck.
"But, yes!" he insisted; "my faith! you will at least allow me to removemy dead from the field."
"But, certainly;" said the son; "see, Clarisse, here is Madame, youraunt, asking us all into the house. Let us go."
The group passed out into the Rue Royale, Dr. Mossy shutting the doorbehind them. The sky was blue, the air was soft and balmy, and on thesweet south breeze, to which the old General bared his grateful brow,floated a ravishing odor of--
"Ah! what is it?" the veteran asked of the younger pair, seeing thelittle aunt glance at them with a playful smile.
Madame Delicieuse for almost the first time in her life, and Dr. Mossyfor the thousandth--blushed.
It was the odor of orange-blossoms.
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