The sun beat down mercilessly on thatch and terrace, the yellow walls flung back the quivering heat, as Madame la Vicomtesse and I walked through the empty streets towards the Governor's house.We were followed by Andre and Madame's maid.The sleepy orderly started up from under the archway at our approach, bowed profoundly to Madame, looked askance at me, and declared, with a thousand regrets, that Monsieur le Baron was having his siesta.
``Then you will wake him,'' said Madame la Vicomtesse.
Wake Monsieur le Baron! Bueno Dios, did Madame understand what it meant to wake his Excellency? His Excellency would at first be angry, no doubt.Angry?
As an Andalusian bull, Madame.Once, when his Excellency had first come to the province, he, the orderly, had presumed to awake him.
``Assez!'' said Madame, so suddenly that the man straightened and looked at her again.``You will wake Monsieur le Baron, and tell him that Madame la Vicomtesse d'Ivry-le-Tour has something of importance to say to him.''
Madame had the air, and a title carried with a Spanish soldier in New Orleans in those days.The orderly fairly swept the ground and led us through a court where the sun drew bewildering hot odors from the fruits and flowers, into a darkened room which was the Baron's cabinet.Iremember it vaguely, for my head was hot and throbbing from my exertions in such a climate.It was a new room, --the hotel being newly built,--with white walls, a picture of his Catholic Majesty and the royal arms of Spain, a map of Louisiana, another of New Orleans fortified, some walnut chairs, a desk with ink and sand and a seal, and a window, the closed lattice shutters of which showed streaks of light green light.These doubtless opened on the Royal Road and looked across the levee esplanade on the waters of the Mississippi.Madame la Vicomtesse seated herself, and with a gesture which was an order bade me do likewise.
``He will be angry, the dear Baron,'' she said.``He is harassed to death with republics.No offence, Mr.Ritchie.
He is up at dawn looking to the forts and palisades to guard against such foolish enterprises as this of Mr.
Temple's.And to be waked out of a well-earned siesta --to save a gentleman who has come here to make things unpleasant for him--is carrying a joke a little far.
Mais--que voulez-vous?''
She gave a little shrug to her slim shoulders as she smiled at me, and she seemed not a whit disturbed concerning the conversation with his Excellency.I wondered whether this were birth, or training, or both, or a natural ability to cope with affairs.The women of her order had long been used to intercede with sovereigns, to play a part in matters of state.Suddenly I became aware that she was looking at me.
``What are you thinking of?'' she demanded, and continued without waiting for a reply, ``you strange man.''
``I was thinking how odd it was,'' I replied, ``that Ishould have known you all these years by a portrait, that we should finally be thrown together, and that you should be so exactly like the person I had supposed you to be.''
She lowered her eyes, but she did not seem to take offence.I meant none.
``And you,'' she answered, ``are continually reminding me of an Englishman I knew when I was a girl.He was a very queer person to be attached to the Embassy,--not a courtier, but a serious, literal person like you, Mr.Ritchie, and he resembled you very much.I was very fond of him.''
``And--what became of him?'' I asked.Other questions rose to my lips, but I put them down.
``I will tell you,'' she answered, bending forward a little.``He did something which I believe you might have done.A certain Marquis spoke lightly of a lady, an Englishwoman at our court, and my Englishman ran him through one morning at Versailles.''
She paused, and I saw that her breath was coming more quickly at the remembrance.
``And then?''
``He fled to England.He was a younger son, and poor.
But his King heard of the affair, had it investigated, and restored him to the service.I have never seen him since,''
she said, ``but I have often thought of him.There,'' she added, after a silence, with a lightness which seemed assumed, ``I have given you a romance.How long the Baron takes to dress!''
At that moment there were footsteps in the court-yard, and the orderly appeared at the door, saluting, and speaking in Spanish.
``His Excellency the Governor!''
We rose, and Madame was courtesying and I was bowing to the little man.He was in uniform, his face perspiring in the creases, his plump calves stretching his white stockings to the full.Madame extended her hand and he kissed it, albeit he did not bend easily.He spoke in French, and his voice betrayed the fact that his temper was near slipping its leash.The Baron was a native of Flanders.
``To what happy circumstance do I owe the honor of this visit, Madame la Vicomtesse?'' he asked.
``To a woman's whim, Monsieur le Baron,'' she answered, ``for a man would not have dared to disturb you.May I present to your Excellency, Mr.David Ritchie of Kentucky?''
His Excellency bowed stiffly, looked at me with no pretence of pleasure, and I had had sufficient dealings with men to divine that, in the coming conversation, the overflow of his temper would be poured upon me.His first sensation was surprise.
``An American!'' he said, in a tone that implied reproach to Madame la Vicomtesse for having fallen into such company.``Ah,'' he cried, breathing hard in the manner of stout people, ``I remember you came down with Monsieur Vigo, Monsieur, did you not?''
It was my turn to be surprised.If the Baron took a like cognizance of all my countrymen who came to New Orleans, he was a busy man indeed.
``Yes, your Excellency,'' I answered.
``And you are a Federalist?'' he said, though petulantly.
``I am, your Excellency.''
``Is your nation to overrun the earth?'' said the Baron.
