CHAPTER IX. MONSIEUR LE BARON
The sun beat down mercilessly on thatch and terrace, the yellow wallsflung back the quivering heat, as Madame la Vicomtesse and I walkedthrough the empty streets towards the Governor’s house. We were followedby André and Madame’s maid. The sleepy orderly started up from under thearchway at our approach, bowed profoundly to Madame, looked askance atme, and declared, with a thousand regrets, that Monsieur le Baron washaving his siesta.
“Then you will wake him,” said Madame la Vicomtesse.
Wake Monsieur le Baron! Bueno Dios, did Madame understand what it meantto wake his Excellency? His Excellency would at first be angry, nodoubt. Angry? As an Andalusian bull, Madame. Once, when his Excellencyhad first come to the province, he, the orderly, had presumed to awakehim.
“Assez!” said Madame, so suddenly that the man straightened and lookedat her again. “You will wake Monsieur le Baron, and tell him that Madamela Vicomtesse d’Ivry-le-Tour has something of importance to say to him.”
Madame had the air, and a title carried with a Spanish soldier in NewOrleans in those days. The orderly fairly swept the ground and led usthrough a court where the sun drew bewildering hot odors from the fruitsand flowers, into a darkened room which was the Baron’s cabinet. Iremember it vaguely, for my head was hot and throbbing from myexertions in such a climate. It was a new room,--the hotel being newlybuilt,--with white walls, a picture of his Catholic Majesty andthe royal arms of Spain, a map of Louisiana, another of New Orleansfortified, some walnut chairs, a desk with ink and sand and a seal, anda window, the closed lattice shutters of which showed streaks of lightgreen light. These doubtless opened on the Royal Road and lookedacross the levee esplanade on the waters of the Mississippi. Madame laVicomtesse seated herself, and with a gesture which was an order bade medo likewise.
“He will be angry, the dear Baron,” she said. “He is harassed to deathwith republics. No offence, Mr. Ritchie. He is up at dawn looking to theforts and palisades to guard against such foolish enterprises as thisof Mr. Temple’s. And to be waked out of a well-earned siesta--to savea gentleman who has come here to make things unpleasant for him--iscarrying a joke a little far. Mais--que voulez-vous?”
She gave a little shrug to her slim shoulders as she smiled at me, andshe seemed not a whit disturbed concerning the conversation with hisExcellency. I wondered whether this were birth, or training, or both, ora natural ability to cope with affairs. The women of her order had longbeen used to intercede with sovereigns, to play a part in matters ofstate. Suddenly I became aware that she was looking at me.
“What are you thinking of?” she demanded, and continued without waitingfor a reply, “you strange man.”
“I was thinking how odd it was,” I replied, “that I should have knownyou all these years by a portrait, that we should finally be throwntogether, and that you should be so exactly like the person I hadsupposed you to be.”
She lowered her eyes, but she did not seem to take offence. I meantnone.
“And you,” she answered, “are continually reminding me of an EnglishmanI knew when I was a girl. He was a very queer person to be attached tothe Embassy,--not a courtier, but a serious, literal person like you,Mr. Ritchie, and he resembled you very much. I was very fond of him.”
“And--what became of him?” I asked. Other questions rose to my lips, butI put them down.
“I will tell you,” she answered, bending forward a little. “He didsomething which I believe you might have done. A certain Marquis spokelightly of a lady, an Englishwoman at our court, and my Englishman ranhim through one morning at Versailles.”
She paused, and I saw that her breath was coming more quickly at theremembrance.
“And then?”
“He fled to England. He was a younger son, and poor. But his King heardof the affair, had it investigated, and restored him to the service. Ihave never seen him since,” she said, “but I have often thought ofhim. There,” she added, after a silence, with a lightness which seemedassumed, “I have given you a romance. How long the Baron takes todress!”
At that moment there were footsteps in the court-yard, and the orderlyappeared at the door, saluting, and speaking in Spanish.
“His Excellency the Governor!”
We rose, and Madame was courtesying and I was bowing to the little man.He was in uniform, his face perspiring in the creases, his plump calvesstretching his white stockings to the full. Madame extended her hand andhe kissed it, albeit he did not bend easily. He spoke in French, and hisvoice betrayed the fact that his temper was near slipping its leash. TheBaron was a native of Flanders.
“To what happy circumstance do I owe the honor of this visit, Madame laVicomtesse?” he asked.
“To a woman’s whim, Monsieur le Baron,” she answered, “for a man wouldnot have dared to disturb you. May I present to your Excellency, Mr.David Ritchie of Kentucky?”
His Excellency bowed stiffly, looked at me with no pretence of pleasure,and I had had sufficient dealings with men to divine that, in the comingconversation, the overflow of his temper would be poured upon me. Hisfirst sensation was surprise.
“An American!” he said, in a tone that implied reproach to Madamela Vicomtesse for having fallen into such company. “Ah,” he cried,breathing hard in the manner of stout people, “I remember you came downwith Monsieur Vigo, Monsieur, did you not?”
It was my turn to be surprised. If the Baron took a like cognizance ofall my countrymen who came to New Orleans, he was a busy man indeed.
“Yes, your Excellency,” I answered.
“And you are a Federalist?” he said, though petulantly.
“I am, your Excellency.”
“Is your nation to overrun the earth?” said the Baron. “Every morningwhen I ride through the streets it seems to me that more Americanshave come. Pardieu, I declare every day that, if it were not for theAmericans, I should have ten years more of life ahead of me.” I couldnot resist the temptation to glance at Madame la Vicomtesse. Her eyes,half closed, betrayed an amusement that was scarce repressed.
“Come, Monsieur le Baron,” she said, “you and I have like beliefs uponmost matters. We have both suffered at the hands of people who havemistaken a fiend for a Lady.”
“You would have me believe, Madame,” the Baron put in, with a wit I hadnot thought in him, “that Mr. Ritchie knows a lady when he sees one. Ican readily believe it.”
Madame laughed.
“He at least has a negative knowledge,” she replied. “And he has broughtinto New Orleans no coins, boxes, or clocks against your Excellency’sorders with the image and superscription of the Goddess in whose nameall things are done. He has not sung ‘Ça Ira’ at the theatres, and hedetests the tricolored cockades as much as you do.”
The Baron laughed in spite of himself, and began to thaw. There was alittle more friendliness in his next glance at me.
“What images have you brought in, Mr. Ritchie?” he asked. “We allworship the sex in some form, however misplaced our notions of it.”
There is not the least doubt that, for the sake of the Vicomtesse, hewas trying to be genial, and that his remark was a purely random one.But the roots of my hair seemed to have taken fire. I saw the Baronas in a glass, darkly. But I kept my head, principally because thesituation had elements of danger.
“The image of Madame la Vicomtesse, Monsieur,” I said.
“Dame!” exclaimed his Excellency, eying me with a new interest, “I didnot suspect you of being a courtier.”
“No more he is, Monsieur le Baron,” said the Vicomtesse, “for he speaksthe truth.”
His Excellency looked blank. As for me, I held my breath, wondering whatcoup Madame was meditating.
“Mr. Ritchie brought down from Kentucky a miniature of me by Boze, thatwas painted in a costume I once wore at Chantilly.”
“Comment! diable,” exclaimed the Baron. “And how did such a thing getinto Kentucky, Madame?”
“You have brought me to the point,”
she replied, “which is no smalltriumph for your Excellency. Mr. Ritchie bought the miniature from thatmost estimable of my relations, Monsieur Auguste de St. Gré.”
The Baron sat down and began to fan himself. He even grew a littlepurple. He looked at Madame, sputtered, and I began to think that, if hedidn’t relieve himself, his head might blow off. As for the Vicomtesse,she wore an ingenuous air of detachment, and seemed supremelyunconscious of the volcano by her side.
“So, Madame,” cried the Governor at length, after I know not whatrepressions, “you have come here in behalf of that--of Auguste de St.Gré!”
“So far as I am concerned, Monsieur,” answered the Vicomtesse, calmly,“you may hang Auguste, put him in prison, drown him, or do anything youlike with him.”
“God help me,” said the poor man, searching for his handkerchief, andutterly confounded, “why is it you have come to me, then? Why did youwake me up?” he added, so far forgetting himself.
“I came in behalf of the gentleman who had the indiscretion to accompanyAuguste to Louisiana,” she continued, “in behalf of Mr. Nicholas Temple,who is a cousin of Mr. Ritchie.”
The Baron started abruptly from his chair.
“I have heard of him,” he cried; “Madame knows where he is?”
“I know where he is. It is that which I came to tell your Excellency.”
“Hein!” said his Excellency, again nonplussed. “You came to tell mewhere he is? And where the--the other one is?”
“Parfaitement,” said Madame. “But before I tell you where they are, Iwish to tell you something about Mr. Temple.”
“Madame, I know something of him already,” said the Baron, impatiently.
“Ah,” said she, “from Gignoux. And what do you hear from Gignoux?”
This was another shock, under which the Baron fairly staggered.
“Diable! is Madame la Vicomtesse in the plot?” he cried. “What doesMadame know of Gignoux?”
Madame’s manner suddenly froze.
“I am likely to be in the plot, Monsieur,” she said. “I am likely to bein a plot which has for its furtherance that abominable anarchy whichdeprived me of my home and estates, of my relatives and friends and mysovereign.”
“A thousand pardons, Madame la Vicomtesse,” said the Baron, more at seathan ever. “I have had much to do these last years, and the heat andthe Republicans have got on my temper. Will Madame la Vicomtesse prayexplain?”
“I was about to do so when your Excellency interrupted,” said Madame.“You see before you Mr. Ritchie, barrister, of Louisville, Kentucky,whose character of sobriety, dependence, and ability” (there was alittle gleam in her eye as she gave me this array of virtues) “can beperfectly established. When he came to New Orleans some years ago hebrought letters to Monsieur de St. Gré from Monsieur Gratiot and ColonelChouteau of St. Louis, and he is known to Mr. Clark and to MonsieurVigo. He is a Federalist, as you know, and has no sympathy with theJacobins.”
“Eh bien, Mr. Ritchie,” said the Baron, getting his breath, “you arefortunate in your advocate. Madame la Vicomtesse neglected to say thatshe was your friend, the greatest of all recommendations in my eyes.”
“You are delightful, Monsieur le Baron,” said the Vicomtesse.
“Perhaps Mr. Ritchie can tell me something of this expedition,” said theBaron, his eyes growing smaller as he looked at me.
“Willingly,” I answered. “Although I know that your Excellency is wellinformed, and that Monsieur Vigo has doubtless given you many of thedetails that I know.”
He interrupted me with a grunt.
“You Americans are clever people, Monsieur,” he said; “you contrive tocombine shrewdness with frankness.”
“If I had anything to hide from your Excellency, I should not be here,”I answered. “The expedition, as you know, has been as much of a farce asCitizen Genêt’s commissions. But it has been a sad farce to me, inasmuchas it involves the honor of my old friend and Colonel, General Clark,and the safety of my cousin, Mr. Temple.”
“So you were with Clark in Illinois?” said the Baron, craftily. “Pardonme, Mr. Ritchie, but I should have said that you are too young.”
“Monsieur Vigo will tell you that I was the drummer boy of the regiment,and a sort of ward of the Colonel’s. I used to clean his guns and cookhis food.”
“And you did not see fit to follow your Colonel to Louisiana?” said hisExcellency, for he had been trained in a service of suspicion.
“General Clark is not what he was,” I replied, chafing a little at hismanner; “your Excellency knows that, and I put loyalty to my governmentbefore friendship. And I might remind your Excellency that I am neitheran adventurer nor a fool.”
The little Baron surprised me by laughing. His irritability and his goodnature ran in streaks.
“There is no occasion to, Mr. Ritchie,” he answered. “I have seensomething of men in my time. In which category do you place your cousin,Mr. Temple?”
“If a love of travel and excitement and danger constitutes anadventurer, Mr. Temple is such,” I said. “Fortunately the main spur ofthe adventurer’s character is lacking in his case. I refer to thedesire for money. Mr. Temple has an annuity from his father’s estate inCharleston which puts him beyond the pale of the fortune-seeker, and Ifirmly believe that if your Excellency sees fit to allow him to leavethe province, and if certain disquieting elements can be removed fromhis life” (I glanced at the Vicomtesse), “he will settle down and becomea useful citizen of the United States. As much as I dislike to submit toa stranger private details in the life of a member of my family, I feelthat I must tell your Excellency something of Mr. Temple’s career, inorder that you may know that restlessness and the thirst for adventurewere the only motives that led him into this foolish undertaking.”
“Pray proceed, Mr. Ritchie,” said the Baron.
I was surprised not to find him more restless, and in addition theglance of approbation which the Vicomtesse gave me spurred me on.However distasteful, I had the sense to see that I must hold nothingback of which his Excellency might at any time become cognizant, andtherefore I told him as briefly as possible Nick’s story, leaving outonly the episode with Antoinette. When I came to the relation of theaffairs which occurred at Les Îles five years before and told hisExcellency that Mrs. Temple had since been living in the Rue Bourbon asMrs. Clive, unknown to her son, the Baron broke in upon me.
“So the mystery of that woman is cleared at last,” he said, and turnedto the Vicomtesse. “I have learned that you have been a frequentvisitor, Madame.”
“Not a sparrow falls to the ground in Louisiana that your Excellencydoes not hear of it,” she answered.
“And Gignoux?” he said, speaking to me again.
“As I told you, Monsieur le Baron,” I answered, “I have come to NewOrleans at a personal sacrifice to induce my cousin to abandon thismatter, and I went out last evening to try to get word of him.” This wasnot strictly true. “I saw Monsieur Gignoux in conference with some ofyour officers who came out of this hotel.”
“You have sharp eyes, Monsieur,” he remarked.
“I suspected the man when I met him in Kentucky,” I continued, notheeding this. “Monsieur Vigo himself distrusted him. To say that Gignouxwere deep in the councils of the expedition, that he held acommission from Citizen Genêt, I realize will have no weight with yourExcellency,--provided the man is in the secret service of his Majestythe King of Spain.”
“Mr. Ritchie,” said the Baron, “you are a young man and I an old one. IfI tell you that I have a great respect for your astuteness and ability,do not put it down to flattery. I wish that your countrymen, who arecoming down the river like driftwood, more resembled you. As for CitizenGignoux,” he went on, smiling, and wiping his face, “let not your heartbe troubled. His Majesty’s minister at Philadelphia has written meletters on the subject. I am contemplating for Monsieur Gignoux a seavoyage to Havana, and he is at present partaking of my hospitality inthe calabozo.”
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��In the calabozo!” I cried, overwhelmed at this example of Spanishjustice and omniscience.
“Precisely,” said the Baron, drumming with his fingers on his fat knee.“And now,” he added, “perhaps Madame la Vicomtesse is ready to tell meof the whereabouts of Mr. Temple and her estimable cousin, Auguste. Itmay interest her to know why I have allowed them their liberty so long.”
“A point on which I have been consumed with curiosity--since I havebegun to tremble at the amazing thoroughness of your Excellency’ssystem,” said the Vicomtesse.
His Excellency scarcely looked the tyrant as he sat before us, withhis calves crossed and his hands folded on his waistcoat and his littleblack eyes twinkling.
“It is because,” he said, “there are many French planters in theprovince bitten with the three horrors” (he meant Liberty, Equality, andFraternity), “I sent six to Havana; and if Monsieur Étienne de Boré hadnot, in the nick of time for him, discovered how to make sugar he wouldhave gone, too. I had an idea that the Sieur de St. Gré and Mr. Templemight act as a bait to reveal the disease in some others. Ha, I amcleverer than you thought, Mr. Ritchie. You are surprised?”
I was surprised, and showed it.
“Come,” he said, “you are astute. Why did you think I left them atliberty?”
“I thought your Excellency believed them to be harmless, as they are,” Ireplied.
He turned again to the Vicomtesse. “You have picked up a diplomat,Madame. I must confess that I misjudged him when you introduced him tome. And again, where are Mr. Temple and your estimable cousin? Shall Itell you? They are at old Lamarque’s, on the plantation of Philippe deSt. Gré.”
“They were, your Excellency,” said the Vicomtesse.
“Eh?” exclaimed the Baron, jumping.
“Mademoiselle de St. Gré has given her brother eight hundred livres, andhe is probably by this time on board a French ship at the EnglishTurn. He is very badly frightened. I will give your Excellency one moresurprise.”
“Madame la Vicomtesse,” said the Baron, “I have heard that, but for yourcoolness and adroitness, Monsieur le Vicomte, your husband, and severalother noblemen and their ladies and some of her Majesty’s letters andjewels would never have gotten out of France. I take this opportunity ofsaying that I have the greatest respect for your intelligence. Now whatis the surprise?”
“That your Excellency intended that both Mr. Temple and Auguste de St.Gré were to escape on that ship.”
“Mille tonneres,” exclaimed the Baron, staring at her, and straightwayhe fell into a fit of laughter that left him coughing and choking andperspiring as only a man in his condition of flesh can perspire. To saythat I was bewildered by this last evidence of the insight of the womanbeside me would be to put it mildly. The Vicomtesse sat quietly watchinghim, the wonted look of repressed laughter on her face, and by degreeshis Excellency grew calm again.
“Mon Dieu,” said he, “I always like to cross swords with you, Madame laVicomtesse, yet this encounter has been more pleasurable than any I havehad since I came to Louisiana. But, diable,” he cried, “just as I wascongratulating myself that I was to have one American the less, you comeand tell me that he has refused to flee. Out of consideration for thecharacter and services of Monsieur Philippe de St. Gré I was willing tolet them both escape. But now?”
“Mr. Temple is not known in New Orleans except to the St. Gré family,”said the Vicomtesse. “He is a man of honor. Suppose Mr. Ritchie were tobring him to your Excellency, and he were to give you his word that hewould leave the province at the first opportunity? He now wishes tosee his mother before she dies, and it was as much as we could do thismorning to persuade him from going to her openly in the face of arrest.”
But the Baron was old in a service which did not do things hastily.
“He is well enough where he is for to-day,” said his Excellency,resuming his official manner. “To-night after dark I will send downan officer and have him brought before me. He will not then be seen incustody by any one, and provided I am satisfied with him he may go tothe Rue Bourbon.”
The little Baron rose and bowed to the Vicomtesse to signify that theaudience was ended, and he added, as he kissed her hand, “Madame laVicomtesse, it is a pleasure to be able to serve such a woman as you.”
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