CHAPTER XXXII
INTERRUPTED PRELIMINARIES
About the same time of day, three gentlemen (we use the term gentlemenin its petrified state) were walking down the rue Royale from thedirection of the Faubourg Ste. Marie.
They were coming down toward Palmyre's corner. The middle one, tall andshapely, might have been mistaken at first glance for HonoreGrandissime, but was taller and broader, and wore a cocked hat, whichHonore did not. It was Valentine. The short, black-bearded man inbuckskin breeches on his right was Jean-Baptiste Grandissime, and theslight one on the left, who, with the prettiest and most gracefulgestures and balancings, was leading the conversation, was HippolyteBrahmin-Mandarin, a cousin and counterpart of that sturdy-heartedchallenger of Agricola, Sylvestre.
"But after all," he was saying in Louisiana French, "there is no spotcomparable, for comfortable seclusion, to the old orange grove underthe levee on the Point; twenty minutes in a skiff, five minutes forpreliminaries--you would not want more, the ground has been measured offfive hundred times--'are you ready?'--"
"Ah, bah!" said Valentine, tossing his head, "the Yankees would be downon us before you could count one."
"Well, then, behind the Jesuits' warehouses, if you insist. I don'tcare. Perdition take such a government! I am almost sorry I went to thegovernor's reception."
"It was quiet, I hear; a sort of quiet ball, all promenading and nocontra-dances. One quadroon ball is worth five of such."
This was the opinion of Jean-Baptiste.
"No, it was fine, anyhow. There was a contra-dance. The musicwas--tarata joonc, tara, tara--tarata joonc, tararata joonc, tara--oh!it was the finest thing--and composed here. They compose as fine thingshere as they do anywhere in the--look there! That man came out ofPalmyre's house; see how he staggered just then!"
"Drunk," said Jean-Baptiste.
"No, he seems to be hurt. He has been struck on the head. Oho, I tellyou, gentlemen, that same Palmyre is a wonderful animal! Do you see? Shenot only defends herself and ejects the wretch, but she puts her markupon him; she identifies him, ha, ha, ha! Look at the high art of thething; she keeps his hat as a small souvenir and gives him a receipt forit on the back of his head. Ah! but hasn't she taught him a lesson?Why, gentlemen,--it is--if it isn't that sorcerer of an apothecary!"
"What?" exclaimed the other two; "well, well, but this is too good!Caught at last, ha, ha, ha, the saintly villain! Ah, ha, ha! Will notHonore be proud of him now? _Ah! voila un joli Joseph!_ What did I tellyou? Didn't I _always_ tell you so?"
"But the beauty of it is, he is caught so cleverly. No escape--nopossible explanation. There he is, gentlemen, as plain as a rat in abarrel, and with as plain a case. Ha, ha, ha! Isn't it just glorious?"
And all three laughed in such an ecstasy of glee that Frowenfeld lookedback, saw them, and knew forthwith that his good name was gone. Thethree gentlemen, with tears of merriment still in their eyes, reached acorner and disappeared.
"Mister," said a child, trotting along under Frowenfeld's elbow,--theodd English of the New Orleans street-urchin was at that day justbeginning to be heard--"Mister, dey got some blood on de back ofyou' hade!"
But Frowenfeld hurried on groaning with mental anguish.