Part 2 (1/2)
”Listen to me, messieurs! Is there no fair lady to whose honor your young men would drink? For never could we drink to the ladies after drinking to a negro and a slave. I give you, messieurs, the fairest lady in St. Louis!”
As I said it, for one fleeting moment I had a vision of a round white arm bare to the shoulder, a slender hand grasping a tawny mane, and black eyes flas.h.i.+ng with scorn. Perhaps it was due to that vision that my voice had a ring in it that brought every man to his feet, and as gla.s.ses clinked, each man drank to the lady of his love with a rousing cheer.
As we brought our gla.s.ses to the table, rims down, the young man who had proposed Yorke's health said, with a bow of apology to me:
”I accept my rebuke, and if the gentleman permit I would like to repeat his toast: To the fairest lady in St. Louis--Dr. Saugrain's ward!”
”Fill up your gla.s.ses, gentlemen, drain them to the lees, and throw them over your shoulders; 'tis a worthy toast,” cried the governor; and, filling his to the brim, and draining it at one draught, he flung it over his shoulder--an example which the others, benedict and bachelor, followed with ardor. In the midst of the cras.h.i.+ng of gla.s.s, I thought I caught Dr. Saugrain's and Mr. Gratiot's eyes fixed curiously on me. I turned to Mr. Pierre Chouteau:
”Dr. Saugrain's ward must be fair indeed, to rouse such enthusiasm,” I said.
”Vraiment,” returned Pierre, ”she is the Rose of St. Louis. But you dine with Dr. Saugrain to-day: you will see, and then you will know.
Young Josef Papin yonder, who proposed the toast, is wild about her.
And so are half the young men of the village.”
”Vraiment,” I murmured to myself, ”if she is fairer than the scornful Mademoiselle Pelagie, she is fair indeed!”
And yet I found myself looking forward to Dr. Saugrain's dinner with suppressed excitement, while I puzzled my brains to interpret his and Mr. Gratiot's enigmatical glances in my direction.
CHAPTER III
I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
”I am his Highness's dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?”
”Allons!” said Mr. Pierre Chouteau, ”I will show you the village.
There are yet two hours before Dr. Saugrain's dinner-hour arrives.”
We were standing on the wide gallery of Government House, looking up the Rue de la Tour to the ”Fort on the Hill” with its ma.s.sive round towers of stone and high stockade. We had made our adieus to Governor Dela.s.sus, and we were quite ready to accept Mr. Chouteau's invitation.
Mr. Gratiot and Mr. Auguste Chouteau excused themselves from accompanying us on the ground of pressing business, but Mr. Auguste Chouteau said he hoped soon to see us at his own house, and Mr.
Gratiot promised to meet us at dinner at Dr. Saugrain's.
So it was only four of us who set out (or five, if you count the black as one), Mr. Chouteau and my captain leading, Dr. Saugrain and I following, with Yorke trailing in the rear; for Captain Clarke did not dare leave that ingenious black to his own devices, being well a.s.sured that it would certainly result in disaster to himself or to some of the habitans.
Diagonally across the street, at the corner of the Rue de la Tour and the Rue Royale, was a large garden, shut in by solid stone walls higher than a man's head. Over the top of the walls fell branches of fruit-trees, and grape-vines still with a few cl.u.s.ters of late grapes hanging from them. Beyond were the tops of lofty shade-trees, and between the branches, where the foliage was rapidly thinning, we could catch glimpses of the stone chimneys and dormer-windows of a great house.
We turned into the Rue Royale and walked by the stone wall stretching north a long distance. The morning had been frosty, but the noon sun was hot, and we were glad to shelter ourselves under the overhanging boughs. It was Auguste Chouteau's place, but Pierre said he would let his brother have the pleasure of showing it to us; and we were about to pa.s.s the wide entrance-gate half-way down the long wall when we were stopped by a strange procession. Out of the gate filed slowly, solemnly, one at a time, a long line of fantastically dressed Indians.
The two in front were attired alike in shabby old United States uniforms, with gold epaulets much tarnished and worn, dilapidated gold lace on collars and sleeves, and wearing on their heads military hats with long draggled plumes. From thigh to the low moccasins their legs were entirely unclothed, and a more ludicrous combination than the civilized coats and the bare brown legs I had never seen. The two in military coats were evidently chiefs, and were followed by a long line of braves sweltering under heavy Mackinac blankets, each armed with a scarlet umbrella in one hand and a palm-leaf fan in the other, to protect them from the sun. Apparently they did not glance in our direction, but each one as he pa.s.sed Mr. Chouteau saluted him with a guttural ”Ugh!” to which Mr. Chouteau responded in the most military fas.h.i.+on.
”They are on their way to my place, and we will let them get well ahead of us,” Mr. Chouteau said, as the last brave pa.s.sed us. ”It would hardly be dignified to be trailing in their rear; we will step into my brother's garden for a moment and give them time to get out of our way.”
The ma.s.sive gates, which, I saw, could be heavily bolted and barred, stood open, and we pa.s.sed through into a park-like inclosure, beautifully laid out and kept in perfect order, with velvet turf and n.o.ble forest trees, and, in one part, a garden of vegetables and flowers. Set in the midst was a n.o.ble stone mansion some sixty feet in front, with wide galleries shaded by a projection of sloping roof, which was pierced by dormer-windows. Several smaller stone buildings were grouped around it, and from one to the other negroes were pa.s.sing on various errands, giving a cheerful impression of industry and prosperity. I caught the flutter of a white dress disappearing through a wide door opening from the gallery into the house, and I would have liked to get a nearer view of the mansion and its inmates. But an exclamation from Mr. Chouteau put all thoughts of petticoats out of my mind.
”Diable!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, ”'tis Black Hawk himself. Now what is the meaning of this, think you?”
I followed his glance, and saw coming from one of the outbuildings the n.o.blest specimen of a savage I had ever beheld. Unlike the others, he was decked in no worn-out finery of the white man, bestowed upon him in exchange for valuable furs, but in the fitting costume of a great chief, his head-dress of eagle feathers falling back from the top of his head almost to his high beaded moccasins. He was far above the usual stature of Indians, and what increased his appearance of height was the lofty brow and n.o.ble dome, beneath which two piercing eyes and strong aquiline nose gave additional character to a most striking face.