The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

  CHAPTER V

  I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU'S POND

  "Many a youth and many a maid Dancing in the chequered shade."

  The good doctor uttered a sigh of relief as mademoiselle left theroom, followed by madame, who no doubt, in the goodness of her heart,went out to praise the young lady for having done as she ought, and tocondole with her for being obliged to go to the picnic with a man sheknew so slightly, and knew but to dislike.

  The sigh was quickly followed by a frown.

  "I wish that my ward had not so strong a will of her own. I scarcethink it safe for her to go to Chouteau's Pond at all if, as I fear,her enemies are plotting to capture her."

  "I will defend her with my life, sir," I hastened to aver, "since youare so good as to intrust her to me."

  The doctor smiled at my boyish ardor, but said kindly:

  "I would trust her with you sooner than with most, my lad, for Ibelieve I have seen enough of you to know that you are brave to afault, and entirely trustworthy. But you know not the wiles of thesetreacherous Osages, and if this Chevalier Le Moyne is the man I fearhe is, he is a much to be dreaded villain."

  "Whom do you fear him to be?" the captain and I uttered in one breath.

  The good doctor hesitated a moment and then seemed to take a suddendetermination.

  "I am afraid I have no right to be letting you into my confidence, forit is not mine alone. In what I am about to say to you it is mycountry reposing a confidence as well. But our brief acquaintance hasinspired me with trust in you both, and I have need of advice and helpin this emergency, and perhaps of a good sword, if one of you be freeto offer it. It is not the fortunes of a simple maid, such as mylittle Pelagie seems to be, that are alone involved, and yet I am notat liberty to tell you what great issues are at stake. We will say, byway of illustration, it would be to the advantage of an Orleanist toget rid of all possible Bourbon claimants to the throne of France,would it not? Merely by way of further illustration, suppose therewere some young Orleanist, far removed from any pretensions to thethrone, who by marrying a young Bourbon maid much closer to thethrone, but, of course, barred from it by her sex, should prevent hermarrying royalty and so having a son who might succeed to the throne.Do you follow me?"

  We both bowed our comprehension, for we were too eager to interrupthim by a word. The doctor went on:

  "And suppose by such a marriage he removed one more obstacle from thepath of a powerful kinsman in his progress toward the throne. And ifthis young Orleanist were penniless and the Bourbon maid rich inprospect, he would save his kinsman the necessity of providing forhim. And if he were dissolute and unprincipled, he would hesitate atno means to accomplish his ends. And if he were handsome, after afashion, and accomplished in all Parisian arts, there would bereasonable chance of his success with a young maiden but little versedin the wiles of the world. Although I have used this merely as anillustration, this is very much the situation that confronts Pelagie'sfriends. You see, I have some reason to feel alarmed, and I fear Ihave no right to permit her to go to this picnic. Yet," with agrimace, "what can I? Where a wilful maiden will, a man is helpless.

  "And now, messieurs, you see how fully I have trusted you, not onlywith my affairs, but the affairs of France. I am not asking for apledge of secrecy, for I feel no such pledge is necessary. Pelagie andher interests and the interests of her house in France I believe to beas safe in your hands as in my own."

  As the doctor uttered these last words he sprang to his feet, andbetrayed the intensity of his feeling by the mist in his eyes, thetremor in his voice, and the dramatic clasping of his hands.

  By a simultaneous emotion of sympathy, both the captain and I foundourselves on our feet also. The captain extended his hand, and, likethe straightforward, simple-minded gentleman he is, said only:

  "Your trust is not misplaced, Dr. Saugrain; your secret is safe."

  I was almost too deeply moved for words; I could only murmur as Ibowed low over the hilt of my sword:

  "Safe as my honor!"

  I know not with what emotions my captain had listened to this longrecital. As for me, I had been intensely interested. Yet I could nottell why it should not please me to find that this scornful littlelady was presumptive heiress to wealth and titles, probably even ofroyal rank, for so I could not but understand the doctor'sillustration.

  "Does Mademoiselle Pelagie know all this?" inquired the captain. "Doesshe know her rank and prospects? Is it permitted to speak of them toher?"

  "Oh, no, no, no!" uttered the doctor, rapidly, with vigorousprotestations of head and hands. "Pelagie knows nothing but thatalmost longer ago than she can remember she lived in a beautiful housewith many servants, and with a father and mother who idolized her, butwho went away from her one day never to return. Of course she knowsnow why they never returned, but that is all. She has lived with us inAmerica nearly ten years, and I think she has learned to love MadameSaugrain and me almost as if we were indeed her father and mother, andwe could not love child of our own more tenderly.

  "And so you see, my dear young sir," regarding me with affectionateconcern, "what a weighty responsibility I have put upon your youngshoulders. If the burden is too great for you, I absolve you fromyour offer as escort, and Pelagie shall stay at home whether she willor not. I think it would be far the better way."

  "Oh, no, no, sir!" I protested eagerly. "I am proud you think meworthy such a responsibility. I will never let her out of my sight forone moment, and I promise to bring her back to you in safety."

  "Thank you," said the doctor, gravely; "that is what I would wish. Donot let her out of your sight if it is possible. Even if she seems tobe fretted by your espionage I hope you will bear with hertemper,--which I know to be a royal one,--and persist in yourwatchfulness. I shall be deeply grateful to you."

  By the time the day of the picnic arrived, I flattered myself I hadmade some slight progress in Mademoiselle Pelagie's regard. Veryslight, to be sure, yet I thought she did not treat me with quite thedisdain she had shown at first. Indeed, I even thought I sometimesdetected that she was listening with interest when Madame Saugrain orthe good doctor was questioning me about my life at home inPhiladelphia.

  Twice a day at least we were brought together at the table, for thecaptain and I had taken up our abode at Dr. Saugrain's. It was notwithout much demur that we had, at last, accepted the doctor's urgentinvitations to do so. To be sure, there was no hostelry in thevillage, except the low tavern where the disreputable Indians andrough river-men congregated, and we would have been obliged to acceptsome of the many hospitable invitations extended us by the Chouteaus,the Papins, the Cerres, indeed by nearly every leading citizen of St.Louis, all eagerly vying with one another for the privilege ofentertaining General Clarke's brother. I think the captain's hesitancyarose from the feeling that he ought to accept Emile Yosti's or ManuelLisa's hospitality, since his business was chiefly concerned withthem; but with me it was the feeling that it would be intolerable todwell under the same roof with my Lady Disdain, and be subjected tocountless little ignominies at her hands. Yet when the doctorpresented it to us as a very great favor to him at this time, when hemight need our assistance as well as our advice in protectingMademoiselle Pelagie, we could object no further, and I, at least, wasas eager to stay as I had before been unwilling. To me it seemed themore reasonable that he might easily need what assistance our swordscould give him, if there were really on foot a plan to capturemademoiselle, because the doctor's house was set in a large garden, atthe extreme borders of the village, next to the stockade and with noneighbor within hearing.

  The day of the picnic rose clear and bright, changing soon to thepurple haze and soft air of a day in late November. Breakfast washardly over when the picnickers began to pass the house, some of themwalking in merry groups, some in little French carts drawn by oxen orsmall, hardy ponies, but many of them, I noted with a beating heart,on horseback carrying double, the maiden on a pillion holding fastwith her arm around her escor
t's waist. Was it thus my Lady Disdainexpected to be carried to the picnic, I wondered, and could not tellfor the life of me whether I most hoped it or dreaded it.

  But my hopes and fears were alike vain. I sat smoking on the shadygallery, and was beginning to wonder when my lady would see fit tostart, for by now the procession had thinned out to almost none, onlya straggling couple occasionally hurrying by as if they feared theywere late and must hasten to be in time for the sport. I began tothink it possible she had changed her mind and would stay at homerather than go with an undesired escort.

  I had risen early, and though I had made an unusually careful toilet,calling Yorke to my aid to see that every lacer was fresh and securelytied, and my buckles shining, yet I had made much haste also, notknowing at what hour mademoiselle proposed starting, and fearinggreatly to annoy her by being one moment tardy. So here had I satsmoking on the shady gallery a good two hours awaiting my lady'spleasure, and beginning inwardly to fume, for my temper was not suchas to bear meekly even the caprices of a beautiful maiden--no, notthough she might be also some great lady in disguise.

  But when I had for the tenth time started up to stride angrily up anddown the gallery, I heard the creaking of wheels, and around thecorner of the house came a little French charrette, its wooden wheelsmaking a great noise, drawn by one ox and Narcisse walking beside it,driving. I was filled with dismay, for to me it seemed not a mode ofconveyance suited to the dignity of the son of one of the proudestfamilies of Philadelphia, to say nothing of Mademoiselle Pelagie.Besides, I had had visions of the fine figure I was to cut before theSt. Louis beaus and belles on my prancing and curveting Fatima, whoseglossy coat was like satin this morning from the extra rubbing I hadordered Yorke to give her.

  But as Narcisse passed me and pulled off his hat with an amiable grin,I saw a great hamper in the charrette, and from a spicy whiff borne tomy nostrils by a passing breeze I knew he was conveying our dinner tothe picnic-grounds, and I was duly thankful that neither Fatima nor Iwas to be hampered ('tis a poor pun, and my father hath ever taught me'tis the lowest form of wit) with clumsy packages dangling from saddleand arm.

  In a moment more, around the corner of the house again came a black,leading a small Indian horse gaily caparisoned, and fitted with alady's pillion, and immediately behind, Yorke, leading my own Fatima.I knew then we were about to start, and my heart began once more itssilly thumpings. Yet would I not move from my seat, where I hadassumed an attitude of indifference, until I suddenly heard behind mea cool and haughty voice:

  "Are you not ready, sir? It is high time, I should think, we were onour way, or we will be too late for the dejeuner."

  Now was I in wrath indeed, to be spoken to in tones of reproach when Ihad every reason to expect at least an excuse, if not an apology, forhaving been kept so long waiting. I rose to my feet in leisurelyfashion and made mademoiselle a most elaborate bow, as I replied in avoice as cool and haughty as her own:

  "Had I been informed at what hour mademoiselle would require mypresence, I should have been belted and hatted and not have detainedyour ladyship for even a moment, to say nothing of having wasted twogood hours of my own time in idle waiting."

  As I spoke I stooped to pick up my sword-belt from the floor beside mychair, and began slowly to buckle it on. My eyes were on my belt, butnot so closely but that I could see a little smile hover aroundmademoiselle's lips, and I thought she was not displeased to find Ihad a little spirit of my own and was not always to be cowed by herscornful airs. I was so elated by the discovery that I, foolishly,prolonged the buckling beyond all possible necessity, andmademoiselle's good humor was quickly exhausted. She tapped her littlefoot impatiently for a moment and then spoke as icily as before:

  "Since monsieur finds difficulty with his belt, I will ask Yorke toput me on my horse and then send him to your assistance."

  All my foolish elation was gone in a moment, and, between mymortification and my impatient haste, I fumbled in earnest. I was indesperate haste; for not for a moment did I intend to let Yorke puther upon her horse: yet so swiftly had she swept down the long galleryand the steps to the driveway a little distance off, and so slow had Ibeen with my buckle, that I reached her side just in time to hear hersay:

  "Yorke, put me on my horse, and then go at once and buckle yourmaster's belt. We are like to be all day getting to Chouteau's Pond."

  "Yes, missy," said Yorke, and flinging Fatima's reins to Narcisse,prepared to obey her, though he could only have comprehended byintuition, for not a word of her tongue did he understand.

  I was restored at once to my equanimity by her impatient tones, and Ispoke to Yorke with a calm authority he dared not disobey:

  "Take care of Fatima, Yorke; I will attend to mademoiselle," andwithout giving her time to object I coolly lifted her to her horse.She was only a feather's weight, but I think she liked not thatfashion of mounting, and was minded for a moment to kick and screamlike an angry child. But she thought better of it, and though thequick flame sprang into her cheek, she bowed her thanks in statelyfashion, and I springing on Fatima's back and bidding Yorke to followat once, we set forth at a round pace.

  Not a word did she speak as we galloped side by side down thedriveway, through the gate, and along the short bit of road thatextended to the stockade. When we had passed through, there was notmuch more than a rough foot-path, that began to descend very soon fromthe high bluffs, sometimes by a gentle incline, sometimes by a steepand rocky descent, to the valley of La Petite Riviere.

  The path was no longer wide enough for two horses, and we werecompelled to ride in Indian fashion. Fatima was ahead and was pickingher way daintily and surely, but slowly. The little Indian horse,being much more used to such rough paths, would have gone on morerapidly, and fretted at being kept back by Fatima. So, no doubt, didhis rider, for presently, in her formal way, she said:

  "If monsieur will permit, I will take the lead. I think my pony knowsthe path better and can show you the way."

  But I had been specially warned to keep ever in advance, and it didnot add to mademoiselle's good humor that I was compelled to refuseher the _pas_. I was beginning to feel that my task was a thanklessone, and the picnic on Chouteau's Pond did not look to me quite soalluring as it had looked a few days before. Perhaps my face betrayedmy feeling; for when we reached the foot of the incline and our pathbroadened out as it turned to follow the windings of the little rivertoward the pond, mademoiselle rode up beside me, and with a verypretty air indeed, half arch, half shy, wholly sweet, she said:

  "I pray monsieur will not think me ungrateful. I do not forget thatbut for his courtesy I could not have gone to my fete."

  Then she added roguishly:

  "But I will make amends. I will introduce you to many St. Louisbelles, the fascinating Pelagie Chouteau, Emilie Gratiot, who danceslike a fairy, and Marguerite and Marie Papin, the beautiful sisters.And there are many more just as beautiful."

  I bowed gravely:

  "I thank you, mademoiselle. I have heard much of the beauty of theSt. Louis demoiselles, and have desired much to meet them. Youremember it was largely for that inducement I consented to undertakethe difficult task of looking after your ladyship."

  Pelagie pouted.

  "Why do you persist in calling me 'your ladyship'? I am onlymademoiselle."

  "Indeed!" I said, with affected surprise: "your manner has led me tosuppose you marquise at least, if not duchesse."

  Mademoiselle reddened, but spoke very seriously and very sweetly,

  "I am afraid I have very bad manners, and a very bad temper. But Iintend to be good now, and to remind me I give you permission when Iam haughty or disagreeable to call me comtesse."

  The sycamores and cottonwoods that bordered our path had lost morethan half their leaves, and the soft haze of the late November sunfiltering through flecked mademoiselle with pale gold. It touched herdark hair and turned it to burnished bronze, it brought a faint roseto the warm white of her cheek, and made little golden lights dance in
the shadows of her eyes uplifted to mine. The mysterious fragrance oflate autumn, of dying leaves and bare brown earth, and ripening nutsand late grapes hanging on the vines, and luscious persimmons on theleafless trees, rose like incense to my nostrils and intoxicated me. Ihardly knew how I answered as I looked deep into her shadowy eyes, andI was almost glad that, our way crossing the little river by a steeppath leading down to a shallow ford, I was compelled once more totake the lead.

  Half-way across we stopped to let our horses dip their noses in thecool water dashing merrily over the stones. Fatima only played withit, swashing her muzzle well, and flinging the bright drops overmademoiselle's horse, who drank steadily. The opposite bank was moreheavily wooded, and I became aware, as I sat idly flecking the foamfrom Fatima's flanks with my riding-whip, that I had for some timebeen hearing a whippoorwill calling and its mate replying. The woodslooked dense enough to be the haunts of the lonely birds, but,nevertheless, I felt uneasy and began to listen--for rarely, indeed,does one hear a whippoorwill in the daytime. I knew birds well, and Isoon became convinced that these whippoorwills were like none I hadever heard. They were too deliberate in their calls and replies, andthe varying number of each sounded like a system of signals. I beganto wish mademoiselle had not been so tardy in starting, that we mighthave had company on our way, and I strained my ears if I might hearanything of Yorke, who should be not far behind.

  But there were no signs of Yorke; and mademoiselle's horse hadfinished drinking, and there was no excuse for our delaying longer. Iwould not alarm mademoiselle with my suspicions, yet I wanted myfirearms ready to my hand. I drew my pistol from its holster and laidit across my saddle-bow, saying carelessly that if I caught a glimpseof that whippoorwill in the woods I should shoot it for my aunt inParis, who was making a collection of American birds.

  Mademoiselle Pelagie accepted my explanation without comment, and Iled the way up the steep bank opposite. Once up, I saw, to mysatisfaction, that the path was still wide enough for two. I putmademoiselle on the side nearest La Petite Riviere, and I rode nextthe woods; and though mademoiselle had suddenly grown talkative, andwas full of a saucy French wit, I fear I must have seemed very stupidto her, for all the while I was trying to keep up my share of reparteeand quip I was listening, listening. Mademoiselle noticed at last thatI was somewhat distrait.

  "Why do you keep your eyes turned upon the woods, monsieur? In Francewe are taught that it is polite to look at a lady when she speaks."

  "Pardon, mademoiselle," I stammered. "I am looking for thatwhippoorwill."

  "Your apology is more than sufficient, monsieur," in her haughtiesttones. "There will, no doubt, be no other opportunity so suitable foradding to your aunt's collection."

  I had kept my eyes fixed on the woods even while speaking to her, notdaring to turn them away, but at her tone I turned quickly toward her.

  "Pardon, mademoiselle la comtesse," I began saucily, but went onseriously. "Permit me, I beg, to seem rude, though it is farthest frommy desire to appear so. It is more than the whim of my aunt that is atstake. Some day I will explain to you."

  Even as I spoke I was startled by a sharp crackle followed by astealthy rustle, as if some one had inadvertently stepped upon a drytwig and had then glided quickly away. I turned at once to the woods,and could almost have sworn I caught a fleeting glimpse of acopper-colored hand, and the flash of a rifle-barrel. But as I gazedlonger I saw nothing but the dense foliage of the low scrub-oaks thatgrew under the tall forest trees, and I hoped I was mistaken.

  A level bit of road stretched ahead of us.

  "Will you race with me, mademoiselle, to yonder tree?"

  The quicker we got to Chouteau's Pond the better, I thought, and thefaster we left the whippoorwills behind the better also.

  "I will race you and beat you," she said gaily; "my little La Bette isfleet of foot. But what shall be the prize?"

  "If I win," I said boldly, "the first dance to-day."

  I thought a shadow of annoyance passed over her face, but it clearedand she answered slyly:

  "And if I win, I claim the first whippoorwill you shoot; the secondmay go to your aunt."

  "Done!" I said grimly. "Are we off?"

  It was evident that fleet as La Bette might be, Fatima was farfleeter. But not for worlds would I have left mademoiselle behind; so,while seeming to urge Fatima forward, I was, in reality, giving herthe constant little touch that meant a check. Still I was mindful ofmy prize, and when we were not more than twenty yards from the tree,and I thought we were safe, I gave Fatima the rein and passed the treea full length ahead.

  I felt a little more comfortable now, for I thought if I had reallyseen a redskin with a gun lurking among the bushes, we must have lefthim well behind, and we fell into a comfortable little jog-trot, sideby side again. Suddenly I heard once more the ominous crackle of a drytwig, and turning quickly, I looked full into a pair of dark eyespeering through the bushes. I hesitated not a moment, but raising mypistol, leveled it straight at the eyes, and would have fired but thata voice called to me in good English:

  "Hold, monsieur! Do not fire!"

  And from behind the clump of bushes sprang a more elaborately dressedman than any I had yet seen in St. Louis. In truth, I thought him toofoppishly arrayed for the woods, for there were fine ruffles at wristand knee, and beneath his leathern doublet peeped the edges of a satinwaistcoat, canary-colored. His hair was long and curled and tied witha ribbon, but it was not powdered, and over his forehead it fell inshort, black curls that made his skin look very white and pink;indeed, I was not at all sure but the pink of his cheeks and the redof his lips were more of art's cunning than nature's mingling. A soft,dark mustache on his upper lip, carefully trained and curled, provedhim a Parisian of the latest mode, and I at once felt an instinctivedislike and distrust of him. I had never seen him before, but I wasnot at all surprised when mademoiselle addressed him as Chevalier LeMoyne and paid me the compliment of presenting him to me.

  There was just a little disapproval in mademoiselle's manner, for thechevalier had certainly been caught spying, if nothing worse; and hehad the grace to be embarrassed, and hastened to make his apologies involuble French, which he seemed to take for granted I did notunderstand.

  "I missed mademoiselle from the fete, and I sauntered out to see ifthere were any signs of her approach. Mademoiselle must know that itis no fete for me when the queen is away, and the day is _triste_indeed that is not lighted by her eyes. I was not sure it wasmademoiselle when I heard voices, and so I looked through the bushesto see before addressing her."

  "You spoke just in time," mademoiselle replied. "Monsieur took you fora whippoorwill, and a moment more," with an arch glance at me, "hemight have added you to his aunt's collection."

  I thought at first my lady must be heartless indeed to make a jest ofa very narrow escape from death, but as I glanced at her, I saw littletongues of flame leaping in and out of her cheeks, and a great pulsebeating in her throat, and I knew the light manner was only a mask.

  I watched the chevalier narrowly as she spoke of the whippoorwill, andI saw him look quickly at her with a startled glance, but her evidentinnocence reassured him. I spoke to him in his own tongue, partly toshow him I understood it very well and he must be careful what he saidbefore me, and partly because I was not sure he understood mine.Indeed, I had many times been thankful that my French was almost asnatural to me as my English, for in this French-and Spanish-speakingtown there was almost no one could speak my tongue. Once in a greatwhile (but not often) mademoiselle attempted it, either to practiseher English or out of compliment to my captain, who was not quite sofluent with his French as I. (And when she did, her pretty brokenaccents made our rough language sweet as the song of birds.)

  "Monsieur was fortunate to speak so soon," I said. "I am looking forwhippoorwills, and I took you for one. A moment more would have beentoo late."

  But as I spoke I looked straight into his eyes with a meaning he couldnot misunderstand. His glance fell, a
nd a deep red slowly mounted frombeneath the artificial pink of his cheeks and spread over his face. Herecovered himself in a moment, however, and answered me gaily:

  "Thanks, monsieur, for a narrow escape. 'Tis the luck of the LeMoynes. Perhaps you know the motto of our house?--'By hairbreadthescapes we _always win_.'"

  And this time he looked straight into my eyes, and conveyed by hisglance a haughty challenge.

  I bowed a mute acceptance of it; and mademoiselle, conscious from ourmanner we were not particularly amiable toward each other, hastened toavert any threatening unpleasantness.

  "I think the chevalier will excuse us if we hasten on. We are alreadylate, and I fear we will keep dejeuner waiting."

  The chevalier bowed low, with his hand on his heart, and stepped asideto allow us to pass.

  It was but a five minutes' ride till we left the woodland path and themerry company of the little river and stood on the shores ofChouteau's Pond. I had not expected to find such a beautiful woodlandlake, and at my exclamation of delighted surprise, mademoiselle lookedpleased indeed.

  "We are proud of our pond, which Mr. Auguste Chouteau has made forus," she said. "Is it not as beautiful as your Pennsylvania lakes?"

  "I have never seen a more beautiful!" I ejaculated fervently, and Ispoke truly.

  We had drawn rein on a point of high land, and at our feet the watersof the little river, in foaming rapids and tumbling cascades,stretched up to the foot of a high dam, where the waters of the lakepoured over in a silver flood. To the right, embowered in trees, werethe vine-covered stone towers of Chouteau's mill, and beyond, gentlegrassy slopes, with drooping trees dipping their branches in thewater. To the left rose high banks with overarching foliage, and thenfor a mile or two the lake wound from one embowered cove to another,till it was lost in the hazy distance. Directly below us, it lay aglorious topaz in the soft November sun, for which the dark porphyryof oaks, the tawny gold of cottonwoods, and the emerald of turf anddarker green of cedars made a jeweled setting richer and moreharmonious than would have been the flaming scarlet and gold of ourEastern woods. On the bosom of the little lake a white sail wasfloating lazily, for there was but little breeze, and two or threecanoes were darting swiftly from shore to shore, the dip of theirpaddles breaking the lake to flashing silver.

  There were no other signs of life, and now mademoiselle took the leadand we followed the right shore of the lake behind the stone mill,along the shady, grassy slopes, until, after several windings, we cameout on a little cove where a silvery fountain bubbled up and floweddown in a tiny rivulet to the lake. Around the fountain was soft greenturf, with natural seats of rock, shaded by lofty trees, where thedeep forest came down to the shores of the cove, and here we found ourparty of merry revelers. Horses, ponies, and oxen were all tethereddeep in the forest, while young men and maidens were running to andfro, arranging tempting piles of broiled fowl, venison, and gamepasties on the white cloth, spread on the green grass. A deliciousodor of coffee came from a great caldron, hung over a stone fireplaceon an improvised crane, and two young men were mixing, in a greatbowl, a spicy compound of spring water, ratafia, sweet spices, andraspberry wine.

  They hailed the arrival of mademoiselle with delight, and young JosefPapin came running up, and took hold of her horse's bridle-rein, andled her to the head of the table, where they had made a throne for thequeen of the fete out of a flat rock, covered with bright-coloredcapotes, and wreathed with garlands of bright-leaved vines.

  He claimed it his due, as giver of the feast, to sit at her right, andawarded to me, as a courtesy due her escort, the seat on her left. Inthe merry scramble for places that followed (there was nothing rude init: these French folk are gentle and courteous in their gayestfrolics) the chevalier was forgotten. When he came in, late (somewhatflushed, as if he might have been running when no man was looking, butdebonair and smiling, with many apologies), there was no place for himnear mademoiselle, and I was not sorry. Neither, I confess, did heseem to be, for he devoted himself pointedly to Mademoiselle Chouteau,as fascinating a little coquette as mademoiselle had described her.

  Half-way through the meal the chevalier made an excuse for going for acup of water to the spring, and, in passing behind mademoiselle, hestopped a moment to ask her, in a low tone, for the first dance. Itwas not so low but that I overheard, and I heard, too, the tone ofregret with which she told him it was already promised. I might havethought the tone only a tribute to politeness had I not caught herglance, which said louder than any words, "I had much rather it wereyou," and I said to myself, "Either mademoiselle is a most dangerouscoquette, or the chevalier has already succeeded in at least winningher interest," and for a moment it sprang to the tip of my hastytongue to release her from her promise. But I shut my lips firmlybefore the words were out.

  "Ce garcon-ca! The second, then?"

  I turned away my head and did not willingly hear any more, but I couldnot quite help overhearing the chevalier once again, in a toneintended to be quite cutting, and for that reason, no doubt, moredistinct:

  "If mademoiselle's dances are not taken for the entire afternoon,perhaps she will be so kind as to say which one she will graciouslygrant me?"

  I did not hear her reply; but I heard his joyful response to it:

  "A thousand thanks, ma belle reine; au troisieme, donc!"

  I was in two minds through the rest of the meal: should I holdmademoiselle to her promise, which was, evidently, irksome to her, orshould I free her from it? I resolved, finally, that the dance wasfairly mine and I would hold her to it. Yet when the music sounded andthe line was forming I was a little late in reaching her side, for Ihad been following the chevalier's example and getting my dancespromised ahead, and Mademoiselle Chouteau had been so full of herlittle French coquetries I had found it hard to get away in time toclaim mademoiselle's hand. I found her tapping her little footimpatiently, and an ominous line between her dark eyes. I made myapologies humbly, but mademoiselle was coldly scornful.

  "Had I known monsieur would find it so irksome to keep his engagementI could have released him. There were others who would haveappreciated the honor, since it is my duty to open the dance."

  "It is inexcusable," I murmured, "but it was unavoidable"; and withoutwaiting for further recriminations I led her to the head of the line.

  I had never seen the minuet danced with more grace and spirit. TheseFrenchmen have winged feet, and though I knew my steps well and hadnot thought myself particularly awkward, yet now it seemed to meimpossible, with my great size, not to seem, to mademoiselle at least,a clumsy giant. It made me more conscious of my awkwardness that I wasleading the line with mademoiselle, reine de la fete, and a perfectfairy for grace, and that, opposite us, with Mademoiselle Chouteau,was the chevalier, full of Parisian airs, which looked a littleridiculous to me, but were, no doubt, the admiration of all themaidens.

  And if anything could have made me more clumsy it was the accidentthat befell me in the sword-figure. It fell to my lot to cross swordswith the chevalier, and I cannot be sure that he did it wilfully, yetso it seemed to me. By a twist of his wrist he loosened my sword fromits grasp, and it fell clattering to the ground at the very feet of mylady. Had I been expecting anything more than the usual crossing ofpoints my grasp would have been firmer, and I really think I was notto blame. Yet I was covered with confusion, and as I stooped to pickit up, necessarily delaying the progress of my lady, who was leadingher line of maidens under the arch of swords, I glanced at her face,expecting nothing less for my gaucherie than the mocking smile I hadlearned to dread. To my amazement, my glance was met with the sweetestof smiles, and it was the chevalier who winced this time.

  "I hope monsieur will pardon the chevalier's awkwardness," she said;"he is, no doubt, more at home in a Parisian ball-room than at arustic dance on the turf."

  After that, you may be sure, I carried myself proudly, and so elatedwas I by her unexpected sweetness that I lost all sense ofawkwardness, and I began to hear murmurs of admiration that
I knewwere intended for my ears, and lent wings to my feet, also.

  "A handsome pair!" "What grace!" "He carries his head like a grandseigneur!" and Mademoiselle Chouteau was wicked enough, as we crossedin the dance, to look up at me and whisper saucily:

  "I die with impatience, monsieur, for la troisieme!"