``You are mad, Nick,'' I answered, pulling him on, ``these people are not to be stared at so.And once Ipresent our letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre, it will not be difficult to know any of them.''
``Look!'' said he, ``that young man, lover or husband, is a brute.On my soul, they are quarrelling.''
The three had stopped by a bench under a tree.The young man, who wore claret silk and a sword, had one of those thin faces of dirty complexion which show the ravages of dissipation, and he was talking with a rapidity and vehemence of which only a Latin tongue will admit.
We could see, likewise, that the girl was answering with spirit,--indeed, I should write a stronger word than spirit,--while the elderly gentleman, who had a good-humored, fleshy face and figure, was plainly doing his best to calm them both.People who were passing stared curiously at the three.
``Your divinity evidently has a temper, ``I remarked.
``For that scoundel--certainly,'' said Nick; ``but come, they are moving on.''
``You mean to follow them?'' I exclaimed.
``Why not?'' said he.``We will find out where they live and who they are, at least.''
``And you have taken a fancy to this girl?''
``I have looked them all over, and she's by far the best I've seen.I can say so much honestly.''
``But she may be married,'' I said weakly.
``Tut, Davy,'' he answered, ``it's more than likely, from the violence of their quarrel.But if so, we will try again.''
``We!'' I exclaimed.
``Oh, come on!'' he cried, dragging me by the sleeve, ``or we shall lose them.''
I resisted no longer, but followed him down the levee, in my heart thanking heaven that he had not taken a fancy to an octoroon.Twilight had set in strongly, the gay crowd was beginning to disperse, and in the distance the three figures could be seen making their way across the Place d'Armes, the girl hanging on the elderly gentleman's arm, and the young man following with seeming sullenness behind.They turned into one of the narrower streets, and we quickened our steps.Lights gleamed in the houses; voices and laughter, and once the tinkle of a guitar, came to us from court-yard and gallery.
But Nick, hurrying on, came near to bowling more than one respectable citizen we met on the banquette, into the ditch.We reached a corner, and the three were nowhere to be seen.
``Curse the luck!'' cried Nick, ``we have lost them.
The next time I'll stop for no explanations.''
There was no particular reason why I should have been penitent, but I ventured to say that the house they had entered could not be far off.
``And how the devil are we to know it?'' demanded Nick.
This puzzled me for a moment, but presently I began to think that the two might begin quarrelling again, and said so.Nick laughed and put his arm around my neck.
``You have no mean ability for intrigue when you put your mind to it, Davy,'' he said; ``I vow I believe you are in love with the girl yourself.''
I disclaimed this with some vehemence.Indeed, I had scarcely seen her.
``They can't be far off,'' said Nick; ``we'll pitch on a likely house and camp in front of it until bedtime.''
``And be flung into a filthy calaboose by a constable,''
said I.``No, thank you.''
We walked on, and halfway down the block we came upon a new house with more pretensions than its neighbors.
It was set back a little from the street, and there was a high adobe wall into which a pair of gates were set, and a wicket opening in one of them.Over the wall hung a dark fringe of magnolia and orange boughs.On each of the gate-posts a crouching lion was outlined dimly against the fainting light, and, by crossing the street, we could see the upper line of a latticed gallery under the low roof.We took our stand within the empty doorway of a blackened house, nearly opposite, and there we waited, Nick murmuring all sorts of ridiculous things in my ear.
But presently I began to reflect upon the consequences of being taken in such a situation by a constable and dragged into the light of a public examination.I put this to Nick as plainly as I could, and was declaring my intention of going back to Madame Bouvet's, when the sound of voices arrested me.The voices came from the latticed gallery, and they were low at first, but soon rose to such an angry pitch that I made no doubt we had hit on the right house after all.What they said was lost to us, but I could distinguish the woman's voice, low-pitched and vibrant as though insisting upon a refusal, and the man's scarce adult tones, now high as though with balked passion, now shaken and imploring.I was for leaving the place at once, but Nick clutched my arm tightly; and suddenly, as I stood undecided, the voices ceased entirely, there were the sounds of a scuffle, and the lattice of the gallery was flung open.
In the all but darkness we saw a figure climb over the railing, hang suspended for an instant, and drop lightly to the ground.Then came the light relief of a woman's gown in the opening of the lattice, the cry ``Auguste, Auguste!''
the wicket in the gate opened and slammed, and a man ran at top speed along the banquette towards the levee.
Instinctively I seized Nick by the arm as he started out of the doorway.
``Let me go,'' he cried angrily, ``let me go, Davy.''
But I held on.
``Are you mad?'' I said.
He did not answer, but twisted and struggled, and before I knew what he was doing he had pushed me off the stone step into a tangle of blackened beams behind.
I dropped his arm to save myself, and it was mere good fortune that I did not break an ankle in the fall.When Ihad gained the step again he was gone after the man, and a portly citizen stood in front of me, looking into the doorway.
``Qu'est-ce-qu'il-y-a la dedans?'' he demanded sharply.