Part 18 (1/2)
”Madame, those Southerons are daring above everything. I have met them. Their men are fighters, and they will be well officered.”
Well officered! She thought of Kenneth McVeigh, he would be one of them; yes, she supposed that was one thing he could do--fight; a thing requiring brute strength, brute courage!
”So!” said the Countess Biron, who seldom was acquainted with the causes of any wars outside those of court circles, ”this means that if the Northern States should retaliate and conquer, all the slaves would be free?”
”Not at all, Countess. The North does not interfere with slavery where it exists, only protests against its extension to greater territory.”
”Oh! Well; I understood it had something to do with the Africans. That clever young Delaven devoted an entire hour to my enlightenment yesterday. And my poor friend, Madame McVeigh, you remember her, Judithe? She is in the Carolinas. I tremble to think of her position now; an army of slaves surrounding them, and, of course, only awaiting the opportunity for insurrection.”
”And Louisiana seceded two months ago,” said the Marquise, and then smiled. ”You will think me a mercenary creature,” she declared, ”but I have property in New Orleans which I have never seen, and I am wondering whether its value will rise or fall because of the proposed change of government.”
”You have never seen it?”
”No; it was a purchase made by my husband from some home-sick relative, who had thought to remain there, but could not live away from France. I have promised myself to visit it some day. It would be exceedingly difficult to do so now, I suppose, but how much more spirited a journey it would be; for each side will have vessels on guard all along the coast, will they not?”
”There will at least be enough to deter most ladies from taking adventurous pilgrimages in that direction. I shall not advise you to go unless under military escort, Marquise.”
”I shall notify you, General, when my preparations are made; in the meantime here is your rose; and would not my new yacht do for the journey?”
So, jesting and questioning, she accepted his arm and made the circle of the rooms. Everywhere they heard fragments of the same topic.
Americans were there from both sections. She saw a pretty woman from Alabama nod and smile, but put her hands behind her when a hitherto friendly New Yorker gave her greeting.
”We women can't do much to help,” she declared, in those soft tones of the South, ”but we can encourage our boys by being p.r.o.nounced in our sympathies. I certainly shall not shake hands with a Northerner who may march with the enemy against our men; how can I?”
”Suppose we talk it over and try to find a way,” he suggested. Then they both smiled and pa.s.sed on together. Judithe de Caron found herself watching them with a little ache in her heart. She could see they were almost, if not quite, lovers; yet all their hopes were centered on opposite victories. How many--many such cases there must be!
Before spring had merged into summer, a lady, veiled, and giving no name, was announced to the Marquise. Rather surprised at the mysterious call, she entered the reception room, and was again surprised when the lifted veil disclosed the handsome face of the octoroon, Kora.
She had lost some of her brilliant color, and her expression was more settled, it had less of the b.u.t.terfly brightness.
”You see, Madame, I have at last taken you at your word.”
The Marquise, who was carefully noting the alteration in her, bowed, but made no remark. The face of the octoroon showed uncertainty.
”Perhaps--perhaps I have waited too long,” she said, and half rose.
”No, no; you did right to come. I expected you--yes, really! Now be seated and tell me what it is.”
”First, that you were a prophetess, Madame,” and the full lips smiled without merriment. ”I am left alone, now that I have neither money nor the attraction for the others. He only followed the crowd--to me, and away from me!”
”Well?”
”Well, it is not about _that_ I come! But, Madame, I am going to America; not to teach, as you advised, but I see now a way in which I can really help.”
”Help whom?”
Her visitor regarded her with astonishment; was it possible that she, the woman whose words had aroused the first pride of race in her, the first thought of her people unlinked with shame! That she had so soon forgotten? Had she remembered the pupil, but failed to recall the lesson taught?
”You have probably forgotten the one brief conversation with which you honored me, Madame. But I mean the people we discussed then--my people.”