The Flower of the Chapdelaines

by George Washington Cable

  "Yes. I suppose that has to be--at the first, h'm? And with thebuying world every day more and more in love with machine work--andseeming itself to become machine work, while at the same timeAmericanized, papa was like a river town"--another gesture--"left bythe river!"

  "Yet he never went into bankruptcy? You can point with pride to that,mademoiselle."

  "Ah, Mr. Chester, pride! Once I pointed, and papa--'My daughter, thereare many ways to go bankrupt worse than in money, and to have gonebankrupt in none of them--' there he stopped; he was too noble forpride. No, the businezz, juz' year after year it starved to death. Inthe early days _grandpere_ had two big stores, back to back;whole-sale, Chartres Street; retail, Royal, where now all that is leftof it is the shop of Mme. Alexandre. Both her husband and she werewith papa in the retail store, until it diminish' that he couldn' keepthem, and--in the time of President Roosevelt--some New York men theybought him out. Because a new head of the custom-house, old Creolefriend of papa, without solicitation except maybe of M. Beloiseau andthose, appointed him superintendent of customs warehouses, you know?where they keep all kind of imported goods, so they needn't pay thetariff till they take them out to sell them in the store? h'm?"

  "Yes. And he kept that place--how long?"

  "Always, till he passed, he and mamma; mamma first, he two years avter.Ad the last he said to me--we chanced to be talking in Englizh--'I'velived the quiet life. If I must go I can go quietly.'

  "'And still,' I said, 'if your life had been as stormy as _grandpere's_you'd have been always for the right, and ad the last content, I think.'

  "'Yes,' he said, 'I believe I never ran away from a storm, while ad thesame time I never ran avter one.' And then he said something I wrotedown the same night in the fear I might sometime partly forget it."

  "Have you it with you, now, here?" She showed a bit of paper, holdingit low for him to read as she retained it:

  On the side of the right all the storms of life--all the storms of theworld--are for the perfection of the quiet life--the active-quietlife--to build it stronger, wider, finer, higher, than is possible forthe stormy life to be. Whether for each man or for the nations, thestormy life is but the means; the active-quiet life, without decay ofcharacter in man or nation but with growth forever--that is the end.

  The pair exchanged a look. "Thank you," murmured Chester, andpresently added: "So you were left with your two aunts. Then what?"

  "I'll tell you. But"---the Creole accent faded out--"we must notdisappoint the De l'Isles, nor those others, we must----"

  "I see; we must notice where we're going and give and take our share ofthe joy."

  "We mustn't be as if reading the morning paper, h'm? I think 'tis foryou they've come this way instead of going on those smooth shell-roadsbetween the city and the lake."

  The two cars had come up through old "Carrollton," where theMississippi, sweeping down from Nine-Mile Point, had been gnawinginland for something like a century, in spite of all man's engineeringcould pile against it, and now were out on the levee road and halfround the bend above.

  To press her policy, "See!" exclaimed Aline, as a light swell of theground brought to view a dazzling sweep of the river, close beyond thelevee's crown and almost on a level with the eye. They were in aregion of wide, highly kept sugar-plantations. Whatever charms belongto the rural life of the Louisiana Delta were at their amplest on everyside. Groves of live-oak, pecan, magnolia, and orange about largemotherly dwellings of the Creole colonial type moved Aline to turn theconversation upon country life in Chester's State, and constrain him totell of his own past and kindred. So time and the river's greatwindings slipped by with the De l'Isles undisappointed, and early inthe afternoon the company lunched in the two cars, under a homesteadgrove. Its master and mistress, old friends of all but Chester, camerunning, followed by maids with gifts of milk and honey. They climbedin among the company; shared, lightly, their bread and wine; heard withmomentary interest the latest news of the great war; spoke English andFrench in alternating clauses; inquired after the coterie's four youngheroes at the French front, but only by stealth and out of Aline'shearing; and cried to Cupid, "'Ello, 'Ector! _comment ca va-t-il_?And 'ow she is, yonder at 'ome, that Marie Madeleine?"

  Cupid smiled to his ears, but it was the absentee's two mistresses whoanswered for her, volubly, tenderly: "We was going to bring her, butjuz' at the lazt she discide' she di'n' want to come. You know, tha'zbeautiful, sometime', her capriciouznezz!"

  Indoors, outdoors, the visitors spent an hour seeing the place andhearing its history all the way back to early colonial days. Then, inthe two cars once more, with seats much changed about, yet with Alineand Chester still paired, though at the rear of the forward car, theyglided cityward. At Carrollton they turned toward the New Canal, andat West End took the lake shore eastward--but what matter their way?Joy was with ten of them, and bliss with two--three, countingCupid--and it was only by dutiful effort that the blissful ones keptthemselves aware of the world about them while Aline's story ran gentlyon. It had run for some time when a query from Chester evoked thereply:

  "No, 'twas easier to bear, I think, because I had _not_ more time andless work."

  "What was your work, mademoiselle? what is it now? Incidentally youkeep books, but mainly you do--what?"

  "Mainly--I'll tell you. Papa, you know, he was, like _grandpere_, atrue connoisseur of all those things that belong to the arts ofbeautiful living. Like _grandpere_ he had that perception by threeways--occupation, education, talent. And he had it so abboundinglybecause he had also _the art_--of that beautiful life, h'm?"

  "The art beyond the arts," suggested the listener; "their underlyingphilosophy."

  The narrator glowed. Then, grave again, she said: "Mr. Chezter, I'lltell you something. To you 'twill seem very small, but to me 'tislarge. It muz' have been because of both together, those arts and thatart, that, although papa he was always of a strong enthusiasm andstrong indignation, yet never in my life did I hear him--egcept inplay--speak an exaggeration. 'Sieur Beloiseau he will tell youthat--while ad the same time papa he never rebuke' that in anybodyelse--egcept, of course--his daughter."

  "But I ask about you, your work."

  "Ah! and I'm telling you. Mamma she had the same connoisseur talent aspapa, and even amongs' that people where she was raise', and under theshadow, as you would say, of that convent so famouz for all thoseweavings, laces, tapestries, embro'deries, she was thought to bewonderful with the needle."

  Chester interrupted elatedly: "I see what you're coming to. You,yourself, were born needle in hand--the embroidery-needle."

  "Well, ad the least I can't rimember when I learned it. 'Twas alwaysas if I couldn' live without it. But it was not the needle alone, norembro'deries alone, nor alone the critical eye. Papa he had, pardlyfrom _grand-pere_, pardly brought from France, a separate librarieabbout all those arts, and I think before I was five years I knew everypicture in those books, and before ten every page. And always papa andmamma they were teaching me from those books--they couldn' he'p it! Iwas very naughty aboud that. I would bring them the books and if theydidn' teach me I would weep. I think I wasn' ever so naughty aboudanything else. But in the en', with the businezz always diclining,that turn' out fortunate. By and by mamma she persuade' papa to lether take a part in the pursuanze of the businezz. But she did that allout of sight of the public----"

  "Had you never a brother or sister?"

  "Yes, long ago. We'll not speak of that. A sizter, two brothers;but--scarlet-fever----"

  The story did not pause, yet while it pressed on, its hearers musinglingered behind. Why were the long lost ones not to be spoken of? Forfear of betraying some blame of the childlike aunts for thescarlet-fever? The unworthy thought was put aside and the hearer'sattention readjusted.

  "Even mamma," the girl was saying, "she didn' escape that contagion,and by reason of that she was compelled to let papa put me in her placein the businezz; and after get
ting well she never was the same and Irittained the place till a year avter, when she pas' away, and I haveit yet."

  "And who filled M. Alexandre's place?"

  "Oh, that? Tis fil' partly by Mme. Alexandre and partly by thatdiminishing of the businezz--till the largez' part of it isripairing--of old laces, embro'deries, and so forth. Madame's shop isthe chief place in the city for that. Of that we have all we can do.'Tis a beautiful work.

  "So tha'z all I have to tell, Mr. Chezter; and I've enjoyed to tell youthat so you can see why we are so content and happy, my aunts andI--and Hector--and Marie Madeleine. H'm?"

  "That's all you have to tell?"

  "That is all."

  "But not all there is to tell, even of the past, mademoiselle."

  "Ah! and why not?"

  "Oh, impossible!" Chester softly laughed and had almost repeated theword when the girl blushed; whereupon he did the same. For he seemedall at once to have spoiled the whole heavenly day, until she smilinglyrestored it by saying:

  "Oh, yes! One thing I was forgetting. Just for the laugh I'll tellyou that. You know, even in a life as quiet as mine, sometimes manythings happening together, or even a few, will make you see batsinstead of birds, eh?"

  "I know, and mistake feelings for facts. I've done it often, in amoderate way."

  "Yes? Me the same. But very badly, so that the sky seemed falling in,only once."

  Chester thought that if the two aunts, just then telling the biographyof their dolls, were his, his sky would have fallen in at least weekly."Tell me of that once," he said, and, knowing not why, called to mindthose four soldiers in France, to her, for some reason, unmentionable.

  "Well, first I'll say that the archbishop he had been the true friendof papa, but now this time, this 'once' when my sky seemed falling,both mamma and papa they were already gone. I don't need to tell youwhat the trouble was about, because it never happened; it onlythreatened to happen. So when I saw there was only me to prevent itand to----"

  "To hold the sky up?"

  "Yes, seeing that, it seemed to me the best friend to go to was thearchbishop.

  "'Well, my old and dear friend's daughter,' he said, 'what is it?'

  "'Most reverend father in God, 'tis my wish to become a nun.'

  "'My child, that is a beautiful sentiment.'

  "'But 'tis more; even more than my wish; 'tis my resolution. I must dothat. 'Tis as if I heard that call from heaven to me, AlineChapdelaine!'

  "'Ah, but that's not only your name. Your mamma, up yonder, she's alsoAline Chapdelaine.'

  "'Yes, but I know that call is to me. Ah, your Grace, surely, surely,you will not forbid me?'

  "'No, my daughter. Yet at the same time that is not a thing to be donesuddenly, or in desperation. I'll appoint you a season for reflectionand prayer, and after that if your resolution remains the same youshall become a nun.'

  "'But, for the sake of others, will not that season be made short?'

  "'For your own sake, my daughter, as well as for others, I'll make itthe shortest possible. Let me see; I was going to say forty but I'llmake it only thirty-nine.'

  "'Ah, your Grace, but in thirty-nine days----'

  "He stopped me: 'Not days, my child; years.' What he said after, 'tisno matter now; pretty soon I was kneeling and receiving hisbenediction."

  "And the sky didn't fall?"

  "No, but--I can't explain to you--'twas that very visit prevent' itfalling."

  XXXVIII

  It was in keeping with the coterie's spiritual make-up that they shouldknow a restaurant in the _vieux carre_, which "that pewblic" knew not,and whose best merits were not music and fresco, but serenity,hospitality, and cuisine---a haven not yet "Ammericanize'."

  Where it was they never told a philistine. The elect they informedunder the voice, as one might betray a bird's nest. It was but a stepfrom the crumbling Hotel St. Louis, and but another or so from thespires of St. Louis Cathedral.

  In it, at a round table, the joy-riders had passed the evening of theirholiday. As the cathedral clock struck nine they rose to part. At theboard Chester had sat next the same joy-mate allowed him all day in thecar. But with how reduced a share of her attention! Half of his ownhe had had to give, at his other elbow, to her aunt Yvonne; half ofAline's had gone to Dubroca. The other half into half of his was buthalf a half and that had to be halved by a quarter coming from the twonearest across the table, one of whom was Mlle. Corinne, whose queriesalways required thought.

  "Mr. Chezter," she said, when the purchase of an evening paper had madethe great over-seas strife the general theme, "can you egsplain me whythey don' stop that war, when 'tis calculate' to projuce so much hardfeeling?"

  Explaining as best he could without previous research, Chester hadturned again to Mlle. Yvonne to let her finish telling--inspire'd by anincoming course of the menu--of those happy childhood days when she andher sister and the unfortunate gentleman from whom they had boughtAline's manuscript went crayfishing in Elysian Fields street canal,always taking the dolls along, "so not to leave them lonesome"; how thedolls had visibly enjoyed the capture of each crayfish; and how she andCorinne and the dolls would delight in the same sport to-day, but,alas! "that can-al was fil' op! and tha'z another thing calculate' toprojuce hard feeling."

  Through such riddles and reminiscences and his replies theretopersistently ran Chester's uneasy question to himself: Why had Alinetold him that story of unnamable trouble which had goaded her to seekthe cloister? Why if not to warn him away from a sentiment which wasgrowing in him like a balloon and straining his heart-strings to holdit to its proper moorings?

  Now the two cars let out their passengers at the De l'Isle gates and atthe door of the Castanados. Madame of the latter name, with her spouseheaving under one arm and Chester under the other, while Mme. Alexandrepushed behind, was lifted to her parlor. Returning to the street,Chester found the motors gone, MM. De l'Isle and Beloiseau gone withthem, and only the two Dubrocas, the three Chapdelaines, and Cupidawaiting him.

  And now, with Cupid leading, and sleeping as he led, and with a Dubrocabeside each aunt, and Aline and Chester following, this remnant of thecompany approached the Conti Street corner, on the way to theChapdelaine home. At the turn----

  "Mademoiselle," Chester asked in a desperation too much like hersbefore the arch-bishop, "do you notice that, as the old hymn says, weare treading where the saints have trod? _Your_ saints?"

  "My--ah, yes, 'tis true. 'Tis here _grand'mere_----

  "Turned that corner in her life where your _grandpere_ first saw her.Al'--Aline."

  "Mr. Chester?"

  "I want this corner, from the day I first saw you turn it, to be allthat to you and me. Shall it not?"

  She said nothing. Priceless moments glided by, each a dancing ghost.Just there ahead in the dark was Bourbon Street, and a short way downamong its huddled shadows were her board fence and batten gate. It wassenseless to have taken this chance on so poor a margin of time, butwhat's done's done! "Oh, Aline Chapdelaine, say it shall be! Say it,Aline, say it!"

  "Mr. Chester, it is impossible! Impossible!"

  "It is not! It's the only right thing! It shall be, Aline, it shallbe!"

  "No, Mr. Chester, 'tis impossible. You must not ask me why, but 'tisimpossible!"

  "It isn't! Aline, and I ask no why. I see the trouble. It's youraunts. Why, I'll take them with you, _of course_! I'll take them intomy care and love as you have them in yours, and keep them there whilethey and I live. I can do it, I've got the wherewithal! Things havehappened to me fast since I first saw you turn that corner behind us.I've inherited property, and only yesterday I was taken into one of thebest law firms in the city. I'll prove all that to you and your auntsto-morrow. Aline, unspeakable treasure, you shall not live theburied-alive life in which you are trying to believe yourself rightlyplaced and happy, my saint! My--adored--_saint_!"

  "Yes, I must. What you ask is impossible."

  XXXIX
/>   Long after midnight Chester had not returned to his room. He could nottolerate the confinement even of the narrow streets round about it.

  Far out Esplanade Avenue, uncompanioned, he was walking mile after milebeside a belt line of trolley-cars, or more than one, while at home, inBourbon Street, Cupid slept.

  But now the child awoke, startled. Four small feet were on one of hisarms, and Marie Madeleine was purring, at the top of her purr, in hisear. Drowsily he crowded her away. Purring on, she slowly walkedacross his stomach and dropped to the floor. But soon she leaped upagain to that sensitive region and purred into his nose, not at all asif to claim attention, but as though lost in thought. When he pushedher aside she dropped again to the floor, with such a quadruple thumpthat he looked after her, and as she loitered across his view with tailas straight up as Cleopatra's Needle, he observed just beyond her acondition of affairs that appalled him.

  Cold from his small fingers and toes to his ample heart, he rose, stoleinto the next room, and stood by the bed where lay Mlles. Corinne andYvonne as they had lain every night since their earliest childhood.

  "Ah! oh! h'nn!" Mlle. Corinne sprang to an elbow, nervouslywhispering: "What is it?"

  "My back do'," he murmured, "stan'in' opem."

  "Oh, little boy, no, it cannot be! I bolt' it laz' evening when youwas praying. You know?"

  "Yass'm, but it opem now; Marie Madeleine dess gone out thu it."

  Mlle. Yvonne sprang up dishevelled beside her dishevelled sister: "_Mondieu_! where is Aline?"

  Colder than ever in hands and feet, the wee grandson of the intrepidSidney responded: "Stay still tell I go see."