CHAPTER VII.
MICHE VIGNEVIELLE.
Madame Delphine sold one of the corner lots of her property. She hadalmost no revenue, and now and then a piece had to go. As a consequenceof the sale, she had a few large bank-notes sewed up in her petticoat,and one day--maybe a fortnight after her tearful interview with PereJerome--she found it necessary to get one of these changed into smallmoney. She was in the Rue Toulouse, looking from one side to the otherfor a bank which was not in that street at all, when she noticed a smallsign hanging above a door, bearing the name "Vignevielle." She lookedin. Pere Jerome had told her (when she had gone to him to ask where sheshould apply for change) that if she could only wait a few days, therewould be a new concern opened in Toulouse Street,--it really seemed asif Vignevielle was the name, if she could judge; it looked to be, and itwas, a private banker's,--"U.L. Vignevielle's," according to a largerinscription which met her eyes as she ventured in. Behind the counter,exchanging some last words with a busy-mannered man outside, who, inwithdrawing, seemed bent on running over Madame Delphine, stood the manin blue cottonade, whom she had met in Pere Jerome's doorway. Now, forthe first time, she saw his face, its strong, grave, human kindnessshining softly on each and every bronzed feature. The recognition wasmutual. He took pains to speak first, saying, in a re-assuring tone, andin the language he had last heard her use: "'Ow I kin serve you,Madame?"
"Iv you pliz, to mague dad bill change, Miche."
She pulled from her pocket a wad of dark cotton handkerchief, from whichshe began to untie the imprisoned note. Madame Delphine had anuncommonly sweet voice, and it seemed so to strike Monsieur Vignevielle.He spoke to her once or twice more, as he waited on her, each time inEnglish, as though he enjoyed the humble melody of its tone, andpresently, as she turned to go, he said:
"Madame Carraze!"
She started a little, but bethought herself instantly that he had heardher name in Pere Jerome's parlor. The good father might even have said afew words about her after her first departure; he had such anoverflowing heart. "Madame Carraze," said Monsieur Vignevielle, "dozekine of note wad you '_an_' me juz now is bein' contrefit. You muz tekkyah from doze kine of note. You see"--He drew from his cash-drawer anote resembling the one he had just changed for her, and proceeded topoint out certain tests of genuineness. The counterfeit, he said, was soand so.
"Bud," she exclaimed, with much dismay, "dad was de manner of my bill!Id muz be--led me see dad bill wad I give you,--if you pliz, Miche."
Monsieur Vigneville turned to engage in conversation with an employe anda new visitor, and gave no sign of hearing Madame Delphine's voice. Sheasked a second time, with like result, lingered timidly, and as heturned to give his attention to a third visitor, reiterated:
"Miche Vignevielle, I wizh you pliz led"--
"Madame Carraze," he said, turning so suddenly as to make the frightenedlittle woman start, but extending his palm with a show of frankness, andassuming a look of benignant patience, "'ow I kin fine doze note now,mongs' all de rez? Iv you p'iz nod to mague me doze troub'."
The dimmest shadow of a smile seemed only to give his words a morekindly authoritative import, and as he turned away again with a mannersuggestive of finality, Madame Delphine found no choice but to depart.But she went away loving the ground beneath the feet of Monsieur U.L.Vignevielle.
"Oh, Pere Jerome!" she exclaimed in the corrupt French of her caste,meeting the little father on the street a few days later, "you told thetruth that day in your parlor. _Mo conne li a c't heure_. I know himnow; he is just what you called him."
"Why do you not make him _your_ banker, also, Madame Delphine?"
"I have done so this very day!" she replied, with more happiness in hereyes than Pere Jerome had ever before seen there.
"Madame Delphine," he said, his own eyes sparkling, "make _him_ yourdaughter's guardian; for myself, being a priest, it would not be best;but ask him; I believe he will not refuse you."
Madame Delphine's face grew still brighter as he spoke.
"It was in my mind," she said.
Yet to the timorous Madame Delphine many trifles became, one afteranother, an impediment to the making of this proposal, and many weekselapsed before further delay was positively without excuse. But atlength, one day in May, 1822, in a small private office behind MonsieurVignevielle's banking-room,--he sitting beside a table, and she, moretimid and demure than ever, having just taken a chair by the door,--shesaid, trying, with a little bashful laugh, to make the matter seemunimportant, and yet with some tremor of voice:
"Miche Vignevielle, I bin maguing my will." (Having commenced theiracquaintance in English, they spoke nothing else.)
"'Tis a good idy," responded the banker.
"I kin mague you de troub' to kib dad will fo' me Miche Vignevielle?"
"Yez."
She looked up with grateful re-assurance; but her eyes dropped again asshe said:
"Miche Vignevielle"--Here she choked, and began her peculiar motion oflaying folds in the skirt of her dress, with trembling fingers. Shelifted her eyes, and as they met the look of deep and placid kindnessthat was in his face, some courage returned, and she said:
"Miche."
"Wad you wand?" asked he, gently.
"If it arrive to me to die"--
"Yez?"
Her words were scarcely audible:
"I wand you teg kyah my lill' girl."
"You 'ave one lill' gal, Madame Carraze?"
She nodded with her face down.
"An' you godd some mo' chillen?"
"No."
"I nevva know dad, Madame Carraze. She's a lill small gal?"
Mothers forget their daughters' stature. Madame Delphine said:
"Yez." For a few moments neither spoke, and then Monsieur Vigneviellesaid:
"I will do dad."
"Lag she been you' h-own?" asked the mother, suffering from her ownboldness.
"She's a good lill' chile, eh?"
"Miche, she's a lill' hangel!" exclaimed Madame Delphine, with a look ofdistress.
"Yez; I teg kyah 'v 'er, lag my h-own. I mague you dad promise."
"But"--There was something still in the way, Madame Delphine seemed tothink.
The banker waited in silence.
"I suppose you will want to see my lill' girl?"
He smiled; for she looked at him as if she would implore him to decline.
"Oh, I tek you' word fo' hall dad, Madame Carraze. It mague no differendwad she loog lag; I don' wan' see 'er."
Madame Delphine's parting smile--she went very shortly--was gratitudebeyond speech.
Monsieur Vignevielle returned to the seat he had left, and resumed anewspaper,--the _Louisiana Gazette_ in all probability,--which he hadlaid down upon Madame Delphine's entrance. His eyes fell upon aparagraph which had previously escaped his notice. There they rested.Either he read it over and over unwearyingly, or he was lost in thought.Jean Thompson entered.
"Now," said Mr. Thompson, in a suppressed tone bending a little acrossthe table, and laying one palm upon a package of papers which lay in theother, "it is completed. You could retire, from your business any dayinside of six hours without loss to anybody." (Both here and elsewhere,let it be understood that where good English is given the words werespoken in good French.)
Monsieur Vignevielle raised his eyes and extended the newspaper to theattorney, who received it and read the paragraph. Its substance was thata certain vessel of the navy had returned from a cruise in the Gulf ofMexico and Straits of Florida, where she had done valuable serviceagainst the pirates--having, for instance, destroyed in one fortnight inJanuary last twelve pirate vessels afloat, two on the stocks, and threeestablishments ashore.
"United States brig _Porpoise_" repeated Jean Thompson. "Do you knowher?"
"We are acquainted," said Monsieur Vignevielle.