CHAPTER XXXVII
HONORE MAKES SOME CONFESSIONS
"Comment ca va, Raoul?" said Honore Grandissime; he had come to the shopaccording to the proposal contained in his note. "Where is Mr.Frowenfeld?"
He found the apothecary in the rear room, dressed, but just rising fromthe bed at sound of his voice. He closed the door after him; they shookhands and took chairs.
"You have fever," said the merchant. "I have been troubled that waymyself, some, lately." He rubbed his face all over, hard, with onehand,' and looked at the ceiling. "Loss of sleep, I suppose, in both ofus; in your case voluntary--in pursuit of study, most likely; in mycase--effect of anxiety." He smiled a moment and then suddenly soberedas after a pause he said:
"But I hear you are in trouble; may I ask--"
Frowenfeld had interrupted him with almost the same words:
"May I venture to ask, Mr. Grandissime, what--"
And both were silent for a moment.
"Oh," said Honore, with a gesture. "My trouble--I did not mean tomention it; 't is an old matter--in part. You know, Mr. Frowenfeld,there is a kind of tree not dreamed of in botany, that lets fall itsfruit every day in the year--you know? We call it--with reverence--'ourdead father's mistakes.' I have had to eat much of that fruit; a man whohas to do that must expect to have now and then a little fever."
"I have heard," replied Frowenfeld, "that some of the titles under whichyour relatives hold their lands are found to be of the kind which theState's authorities are pronouncing worthless. I hope this is notthe case."
"I wish they had never been put into my custody," said M. Grandissime.
Some new thought moved him to draw his chair closer.
"Mr. Frowenfeld, those two ladies whom you went to see the otherevening--"
His listener started a little:
"Yes."
"Did they ever tell you their history?"
"No, sir; but I have heard it."
"And you think they have been deeply wronged, eh? Come, Mr. Frowenfeld,take right hold of the acacia-bush." M. Grandissime did not smile.
Frowenfeld winced. "I think they have."
"And you think restitution should be made them, no doubt, eh?"
"I do."
"At any cost?"
The questioner showed a faint, unpleasant smile, that stirred somethinglike opposition in the breast of the apothecary.
"Yes," he answered.
The next question had a tincture even of fierceness:
"You think it right to sink fifty or a hundred people into poverty tolift one or two out?"
"Mr. Grandissime," said Frowenfeld, slowly, "you bade me study thiscommunity."
"I adv--yes; what is it you find?"
"I find--it may be the same with other communities, I suppose it is,more or less--that just upon the culmination of the moral issue it turnsand asks the question which is behind it, instead of the question whichis before it."
"And what is the question before me?"
"I know it only in the abstract."
"Well?"
The apothecary looked distressed.
"You should not make me say it," he objected.
"Nevertheless," said the Creole, "I take that liberty."
"Well, then," said Frowenfeld, "the question behind is Expediency andthe question in front, Divine Justice. You are asking yourself--"
He checked himself.
"Which I ought to regard," said M. Grandissime, quickly. "Expediency, ofcourse, and be like the rest of mankind." He put on a look of bitterhumor. "It is all easy enough for you, Mr. Frowenfeld, my-de'-seh; youhave the easy part--the theorizing."
He saw the ungenerousness of his speech as soon as it was uttered, yethe did not modify it.
"True, Mr. Grandissime," said Frowenfeld; and after a pause--"but youhave the noble part--the doing."
"Ah, my-de'-seh!" exclaimed Honore; "the noble part! There is thebitterness of the draught! The opportunity to act is pushed upon me, butthe opportunity to act nobly has passed by."
He again drew his chair closer, glanced behind him and spoke low:
"Because for years I have had a kind of custody of all my kinsmen'sproperty interests, Agricola's among them, it is supposed that he hasalways kept the plantation of Aurore Nancanou (or rather ofClotilde--who, you know, by our laws is the real heir). That is amistake. Explain it as you please, call it remorse, pride, love--whatyou like--while I was in France and he was managing my mother'sbusiness, unknown to me he gave me that plantation. When I succeeded himI found it and all its revenues kept distinct--as was but proper--fromall other accounts, and belonging to me. 'Twas a fine, extensive place,had a good overseer on it and--I kept it. Why? Because I was a coward. Idid not want it or its revenues; but, like my father, I would not offendmy people. Peace first and justice afterwards--that was the principleon which I quietly made myself the trustee of a plantation and incomewhich you would have given back to their owners, eh?"
Frowenfeld was silent.
"My-de'-seh, recollect that to us the Grandissime name is a treasure.And what has preserved it so long? Cherishing the unity of our family;that has done it; that is how my father did it. Just or unjust, good orbad, needful or not, done elsewhere or not, I do not say; but it is aCreole trait. See, even now" (the speaker smiled on one side of hismouth) "in a certain section of the territory certain men, Creoles" (hewhispered, gravely), "_some Grandissimes among them_, evading the UnitedStates revenue laws and even beating and killing some of the officials:well! Do the people at large repudiate those men? My-de'-seh, in nowise, seh! No; if they were _Americains_--but a Louisianian--is aLouisianian; touch him not; when you touch him you touch all Louisiana!So with us Grandissimes; we are legion, but we are one. Now,my-de'-seh, the thing you ask me to do is to cast overboard that oldtraditional principle which is the secret of our existence."
"_I_ ask you?"
"Ah, bah! you know you expect it. Ah! but you do not know the uproarsuch an action would make. And no 'noble part' in it, my-de'-seh,either. A few months ago--when we met by those graves--ifI had acted then, my action would have been one of pure--evenviolent--_self_-sacrifice. Do you remember--on the levee, by the Placed'Armes--me asking you to send Agricola to me? I tried then to speak ofit. He would not let me. Then, my people felt safe in their land-titlesand public offices; this restitution would have hurt nothing but pride.Now, titles in doubt, government appointments uncertain, no readycapital in reach for any purpose, except that which would have to behanded over with the plantation (for to tell you the fact, my-de'-seh,no other account on my books has prospered), with matters changed inthis way, I become the destroyer of my own flesh and blood! Yes, seh!and lest I might still find some room to boast, another change moves meinto a position where it suits me, my-de'-seh, to make the restitutionso fatal to those of my name. When you and I first met, those ladieswere as much strangers to me as to you--as far as I _knew_. Then, if Ihad done this thing--but now--now, my-de'-seh, I find myself in lovewith one of them!"
M. Grandissime looked his friend straight in the eye with the frowningenergy of one who asserts an ugly fact.
Frowenfeld, regarding the speaker with a gaze of respectful attention,did not falter; but his fevered blood, with an impulse that started himhalf from his seat, surged up into his head and face; and then--
M. Grandissime blushed.
In the few silent seconds that followed, the glances of the two friendscontinued to pass into each other's eyes, while about Honore's mouthhovered the smile of one who candidly surrenders his innermost secret,and the lips of the apothecary set themselves together as though he werewhispering to himself behind them, "Steady."
"Mr. Frowenfeld," said the Creole, taking a sudden breath and waving ahand, "I came to ask about _your_ trouble; but if you think you have anyreason to withhold your confidence--"
"No, sir; no! But can I be no help to you in this matter?"
The Creole leaned back smilingly in his chair and knit his fingers.
; "No, I did not intend to say all this; I came to offer my help to you;but my mind is full--what do you expect? My-de'-seh, the foam must comefirst out of the bottle. You see"--he leaned forward again, laid twofingers in his palm and deepened his tone--"I will tell you: thistree--'our dead father's mistakes'--is about to drop another rottenapple. I spoke just now of the uproar this restitution would make; why,my-de'-seh, just the mention of the lady's name at my house, when welately held the _fete de grandpere_, has given rise to a quarrel whichis likely to end in a duel."
"Raoul was telling me," said the apothecary.
M. Grandissime made an affirmative gesture.
"Mr. Frowenfeld, if you--if any one--could teach my people--I mean myfamily--the value of peace (I do not say the duty, my-de'-seh; amerchant talks of values); if you could teach them the value of peace, Iwould give you, if that was your price"--he ran the edge of his lefthand knife-wise around the wrist of his right--"that. And if you wouldteach it to the whole community--well--I think I would not give my head;maybe you would." He laughed.
"There is a peace which is bad," said the contemplative apothecary.
"Yes," said the Creole, promptly, "the very kind that I have beenkeeping all this time--and my father before me!"
He spoke with much warmth.
"Yes," he said again, after a pause which was not a rest, "I often seethat we Grandissimes are a good example of the Creoles at large; we haveone element that makes for peace; that--pardon theself-consciousness--is myself; and another element that makes forstrife--led by my uncle Agricola; but, my-de'-seh, the peace element isthat which ought to make the strife, and the strife element is thatwhich ought to be made to keep the peace! Mr. Frowenfeld, I propose tobecome the strife-maker; how then, can I be a peacemaker at the sametime? There is my diffycultie."
"Mr. Grandissime," exclaimed Frowenfeld, "if you have any design in viewfounded on the high principles which I know to be the foundations of allyour feelings, and can make use of the aid of a disgraced man, use me."
"You are very generous," said the Creole, and both were silent. Honoredropped his eyes from Frowenfeld's to the floor, rubbed his knee withhis palm, and suddenly looked up.
"You are innocent of wrong?"
"Before God."
"I feel sure of it. Tell me in a few words all about it. I ought to beable to extricate you. Let me hear it."
Frowenfeld again told as much as he thought he could, consistently withhis pledges to Palmyre, touching with extreme lightness upon the parttaken by Clotilde.
"Turn around," said M. Grandissime at the close; "let me see the back ofyour head. And it is that that is giving you this fever, eh?"
"Partly," replied Frowenfeld; "but how shall I vindicate my innocence? Ithink I ought to go back openly to this woman's house and get my hat. Iwas about to do that when I got your note; yet it seems a feeble--evenif possible--expedient."
"My friend," said Honore, "leave it to me. I see your whole case, bothwhat you tell and what you conceal. I guess it with ease. KnowingPalmyre so well, and knowing (what you do not) that all the voudous intown think you a sorcerer, I know just what she would drop down and begyou for--a _ouangan_, ha, ha! You see? Leave it all to me--and your hatwith Palmyre, take a febrifuge and a nap, and await word from me."
"And may I offer you no help in your difficulty?" asked the apothecary,as the two rose and grasped hands.
"Oh!" said the Creole, with a little shrug, "you may do anything youcan--which will be nothing."
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