Part 20 (1/2)
She and mademoiselle walked as far as the top of the bluff with me (I would not let them come farther, for the bank was steep and muddy), and then I said my good-by to mademoiselle. I raised her hand to my lips as I said it, and she looked straight into my eyes with eyes that shone with something brighter than smiles as she answered:
”Au revoir, monsieur!”
The captain of the keel-boat was shouting to us to make haste, and there was no time for another word; and I was glad to have it so, for another word might have made me indeed the boy Aunt f.a.n.n.y was always calling me.
The two boys, Mr. Thruston, and my captain went down to the boat with me (which proved to be a more comfortable one than I had dared to hope for), and Fatima having been coaxed aboard and quarters found for her in a warm shed, and my captain pressing my hand with an affectionate ”Good-by, dear lad,” that was once more near to my undoing, we were untied, and the men at the poles pushed hard and walked rapidly back to the stern, and the men at the cordelle pulled all together, with a long-drawn ”Heave, ho, heave!” and we were off.
I stood in the stern watching the two figures on the bluff until one of them went away and there was only one, slender and of but little stature, with soft dark curls, and eyes whose tender glow I could feel long after the figure was but one indistinct blur, with a white hand waving farewell.
Then came another bend in the river and shut her from my sight. And there was naught left to me of Mademoiselle Pelagie but a memory of tears and smiles; of hard words and gentle ones; of cold looks and kind ones; of alternate hopes and fears on my side; of scorning and--yes, I believed it with all my heart--of scorning and loving on hers.
CHAPTER XVI
A VIRGINIA FARMER
”Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear.”
”What, Fatima! You refuse?”
I dismounted and led her carefully down the steep bank and on to the ferry-boat. She followed me very willingly, but I stood with my arm over her glossy neck, for I saw she eyed the water distrustfully, and while I had no fear of her being disobedient to my word of command, I knew it would comfort her to feel my arm about her neck. She neighed her appreciation, and gently rubbed her nostrils against my side, ever a token of affection with her. When the boat began to move, the two stalwart negroes pulling at their great oars and chanting dismally in time to their pulling, Fatima again showed signs of excitement, but I easily quieted her, and then I had leisure to use my eyes.
This crossing the Potomac to Was.h.i.+ngton reminded me vividly of crossing the Mississippi to St. Louis more than three months before.
Nor did the capital look more impressive at this distance than the village of St. Louis. Both were embowered in trees, and, but for the two imposing white buildings,--the President's Palace and the Capitol,--Was.h.i.+ngton was much the less prepossessing village of the two, and I thought how much more worthy was our own city of Philadelphia to be the capital of the nation.
Indeed, when I had led Fatima off the ferry, she sank over her fetlocks in mud, and I had to lead her some distance before I found ground firm enough to warrant my mounting her, lest my weight should make the poor creature flounder hopelessly in the mire.
I bore in my pocket a letter from Captain Clarke introducing me to Mr.
Meriwether Lewis, which he had written at Mulberry Hill, after the boat that was to bear me away was in sight, and also an address he had given me of a respectable innkeeper where I might find lodging. The inn was my first quest, and that once found and a suitable toilet made, I was eager to present my letter of introduction, and, if chance favored me, meet the President also.
It was still early, and the road I found myself upon (for it could not be called a street, since there were no pavements and only at long intervals a house) was filled with a well-dressed throng all wending their way in one direction. It seemed to me too early an hour for gentlemen to be seeking a place of amus.e.m.e.nt, and too late and the throng too generally well dressed to be on their way to business. Some were in coaches, with coachmen in livery on the box and footmen standing up behind, and some were on horseback and some on foot, but all, or nearly all, were wearing silk stockings and fine ruffled s.h.i.+rts and carefully powdered queues and s.h.i.+ning shoe-buckles.
A little stretch of brick sidewalk gave an air of distinction to a solidly built two-story house with sloping roof and dormer-windows, and in front of the house, on a stool planted on the curb, sat an old negro, bandy-legged, with snowy wool, industriously polis.h.i.+ng a row of shoes neatly arranged in front of him, and crooning happily a plantation melody as he worked. I drew Fatima to the curb.
”Good morning, uncle,” I said as the negro slowly lifted his head, bowed over his brush. ”Can you tell me who all these people are and where they are going?”
”Mohnen, marsa,” the negro returned politely, and then looked at me with round-eyed astonishment. ”Yo' dunno whar they's gwine? Why, sah, dey's de Senatahs and Represenatahs, sah, and dey gwine to de Cap'tul, sah.”
Of course! It was very stupid of me not to have thought of it. The negro evidently thought so, too, but a sudden excuse suggested itself to him.
”Mought yo' be a stranger in Was.h.i.+ngton, sah?” with a glance of such undisguised pity for any barbarian who did not know the capital that I felt myself coloring, and to recover my self-respect a.s.sured him that I had set foot in this ”domtiferous” mud-hole for the first time just fifteen minutes before.
He was greatly impressed with my emphatic word, and addressed me with much-increased respect.
”Den, sah, if I might be so libertious, p'r'aps yo' like me to p'int out de 'stinguished gen'lemen.”
Nothing could have pleased me better, and I drew Fatima still closer to the curb while Bandy Jim--for that, he said, was his name--proceeded to point out the celebrities.
There was pa.s.sing at that moment a very elegant coach, with mounted postilions in pink plush and gold lace, and an exceedingly handsome man with an aristocratic face leaning back among the cus.h.i.+ons, his eyes half closed, as if mentally conning a speech for delivery in Congress. Bandy Jim did not wait for the eager question on the tip of my tongue.