``I think not.She thinks I came at Mr.Clark's request.And being a lady, she does not ask questions.
She accepts me for what I appear to be.''
It seemed so strange to me to be talking here in New Orleans, in this little Spanish house, with a French vicomtesse brought up near the court of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette; nay, with Helene de St.Gre, whose portrait had twice come into my life by a kind of strange fatality (and was at that moment in my pocket), that I could scarce maintain my self-possession in her presence.Ihad given the portrait, too, attributes and a character, and I found myself watching the lady with a breathless interest lest she should fail in any of these.In the intimacy of the little room I felt as if I had known her always, and again, that she was as distant from me and my life as the court from which she had come.I found myself glancing continually at her face, on which the candle-light shone.The Vicomtesse might have been four and twenty.Save for the soberer gown she wore, she seemed scarce older than the young girl in the miniature who had the presence of a woman of the world.
Suddenly I discovered with a flush that she was looking at me intently, without embarrassment, but with an expression that seemed to hint of humor in the situation.
To my astonishment, she laughed a little.
``You are a very odd person, Mr.Ritchie,'' she said.
``I have heard so much of you from Mrs.Temple, from Antoinette, that I know something of your strange life.
After all,'' she added with a trace of sadness, ``it has been no stranger than my own.First I will answer your questions, and then I shall ask some.''
``But I have asked no questions, Madame la Vicomtesse,''
I said.
``And you are a very simple person, Mr.Ritchie,''
continued Madame la Vicomtesse, smiling; ``it is what I had been led to suppose.A serious person.As the friend of Mr.Nicholas Temple, as the relation and (may I say?)benefactor of this poor lady here, it is fitting that you should know certain things.I will not weary you with the reasons and events which led to my coming from Europe to New Orleans, except to say that I, like all of my class who have escaped the horrors of the Revolution, am a wanderer, and grateful to Monsieur de St.Gre for the shelter he gives me.His letter reached me in England, and I arrived three months ago.''
She hesitated--nay, I should rather say paused, for there was little hesitation in what she did.She paused, as though weighing what she was to say next.
``When I came to Les Iles I saw that there was a sorrow weighing upon the family; and it took no great astuteness on my part, Mr.Ritchie, to discover that Antoinette was the cause of it.One has only to see Antoinette to love her.I wondered why she had not married.And yet Isaw that there had been an affair.It seemed very strange to me, Mr.Ritchie, for with us, you understand, marriages are arranged.Antoinette really has beauty, she is the daughter of a man of importance in the colony, her strength of character saves her from being listless.I found a girl with originality of expression, with a sense of the fitness of things, devoted to charitable works, who had not taken the veil.That was on her father's account.As you know, they are inseparable.Monsieur Philippe de St.Gre is a remarkable man, with certain vigorous ideas not in accordance with the customs of his neighbors.It was he who first confided in me that he would not force Antoinette to marry; it was she, at length, who told me the story of Nicholas Temple and his mother.'' She paused again, and, reading between the lines, I perceived that Madame la Vicomtesse had become essential to the household at Les Iles.Philippe de St.Gre was not a man to misplace a confidence.
``It was then that I first heard of you, Mr.Ritchie, and of the part which you played in that affair.It was then Ihad my first real insight into Antoinette's character.Her affection for Mrs.Temple astonished me, bewildered me.
The woman had deceived her and her family, and yet Antoinette gave up her lover because he would not take his mother back.Had Mrs.Temple been willing to return to Les Iles after you had providentially taken her away, they would have received her.Philippe de St.Gre is not a man to listen to criticism.As it was, Antoinette did not rest until she found where Mrs.Temple had hidden herself, and then she came here to her.It is not for us to judge any of them.In sending Antoinette away the poor lady denied herself the only consolation that was left to her.Antoinette understood.Every week she has had news of Mrs.Temple from Mr.Clark.And when I came and learned her trouble, Antoinette begged me to come here and be Mrs.Temple's friend.Mr.Ritchie, she is a very ill woman and a very sad woman,--the saddest woman I have ever known, and I have seen many.''
``And Mademoiselle de St.Gre?'' I asked.
``Tell me about this man for whom Antoinette has ruined her life,'' said Madame la Vicomtesse, brusquely.
``Is he worth it? No, no man is worth what she has suffered.What has become of him? Where is he? Did you not tell her that you would bring him back?''
``I said that I would bring him back if I could,'' Ianswered, ``and I meant it, Madame.''
Madame la Vicomtesse bit her lip.Had she known me better, she might have smiled.As for me, I was wholly puzzled to account for these fleeting changes in her humor.
``You have taken a great deal upon your shoulders, Mr.
Ritchie,'' she said.``They are from all accounts broad ones.There, I was wrong to be indignant in your presence,--you who seem to have spent your life in trying to get others out of difficulties.Mercy,'' she said, with a quick gesture at my protest, ``there are few men with whom one might talk thus in so short an acquaintance.Ilove the girl, and I cannot help being angry with Mr.
Temple.I suppose there is something to be said on his side.Let us hear it--I dare say he could not have a better advocate,'' she finished, with an indefinable smile.
