``You have but to follow the road that runs southward along the levee, and some three leagues will bring you to it, Monsieur.You will inquire for Monsieur de Saint-Gre.''
``Can you direct me to Mr.Daniel Clark's?'' I asked.
``The American merchant and banker, the friend and associate of the great General Wilkinson whom you sent down to us last year? Certainly, Monsieur.He will no doubt give you better advice than I on this matter.''
I found Mr.Clark in his counting-room, and I had not talked with him five minutes before I began to suspect that, if a treasonable understanding existed between Wilkinson and the Spanish government, Mr.Clark was innocent of it.He being the only prominent American in the place, it was natural that Wilkinson should have formed with him a business arrangement to care for the cargoes he sent down.Indeed, after we had sat for some time chatting together, Mr.Clark began himself to make guarded inquiries on this very subject.Did I know Wilkinson? How was his enterprise of selling Kentucky products regarded at home? But I do not intend to burden this story with accounts of a matter which, though it has never been wholly clear, has been long since fairly settled in the public mind.Mr.Clark was most amiable, accepted my statement that I was travelling for pleasure, and honored Monsieur Chouteau's bon (for my purchase of the miniature had deprived me of nearly all my ready money), and said that Mr.Temple and I would need horses to get to Les Iles.
``And unless you purpose going back to Kentucky by keel boat, or round by sea to Philadelphia or New York, and cross the mountains,'' he said, ``you will need good horses for your journey through Natchez and the Cumberland country.There is a consignment of Spanish horses from the westward just arrived in town,'' he added, ``and I shall be pleased to go with you to the place where they are sold.I shall not presume to advise a Kentuckian on such a purchase.''
The horses were crowded together under a dirty shed near the levee, and the vessel from which they had been landed rode at anchor in the river.They were the scrawny, tough ponies of the plains, reasonably cheap, and it took no great discernment on my part to choose three of the strongest and most intelligent looking.We went next to a saddler's, where I selected three saddles and bridles of Spanish workmanship, and Mr.Clark agreed to have two of his servants meet us with the horses before Madame Bouvet's within the hour.He begged that we would dine with him when we returned from Les Iles.
``You will not find an island, Mr.Ritchie,'' he said;``Saint-Gre's plantation is a huge block of land between the river and a cypress swamp behind.Saint-Gre is a man with a wonderful quality of mind, who might, like his ancestors, have made his mark if necessity had probed him or opportunity offered.He never forgave the Spanish government for the murder of his father, nor do I blame him.He has his troubles.His son is an incurable rake and degenerate, as you may have heard.''
I went back to Madame Bouvet's, to find Nick emerging from his toilet.
``What deviltry have you been up to, Davy?'' he demanded.
``I have been to the House of the Lions to see your divinity,'' I answered, ``and in a very little while horses will be here to carry us to her.''
``What do you mean?'' he asked, grasping me by both shoulders.
``I mean that we are going to her father's plantation, some way down the river.''
``On my honor, Davy, I did not suspect you of so much enterprise,'' he cried.``And her husband--?''
``Does not exist,'' I replied.``Perhaps, after all, Imight be able to give you instruction in the conduct of an adventure.The man you chased with such futility was her brother, and he stole from her the miniature of which I am now the fortunate possessor.
He stared at me for a moment in rueful amazement.
``And her name?'' he demanded.
``Antoinette de Saint-Gre,'' I answered; ``our letter is to her father.''
He made me a rueful bow.
``I fear that I have undervalued you, Mr.Ritchie,'' he said.``You have no peer.I am unworthy to accompany you, and furthermore, it would be useless.''
``And why useless!'' I inquired, laughing.
``You have doubtless seen the lady, and she is yours, said he.
``You forget that I am in love with a miniature,'' Isaid.
In half an hour we were packed and ready, the horses had arrived, we bade good-by to Madame Bouvet and rode down the miry street until we reached the road behind the levee.Turning southward, we soon left behind the shaded esplanade and the city's roofs below us, and came to the first of the plantation houses set back amidst the dark foliage.No tremor shook the fringe of moss that hung from the heavy boughs, so still was the day, and an indefinable, milky haze stretched between us and the cloudless sky above.The sun's rays pierced it and gathered fire; the mighty-river beside us rolled listless and sullen, flinging back the heat defiantly.And on our left was a tropical forest in all its bewildering luxuriance, the live-oak, the hackberry, the myrtle, the Spanish bayonet in bristling groups, and the shaded places gave out a scented moisture like an orangery; anon we passed fields of corn and cotton, swamps of rice, stretches of poverty-stricken indigo plants, gnawed to the stem by the pest.Our ponies ambled on, unmindful; but Nick vowed that no woman under heaven would induce him to undertake such a journey again.
Some three miles out of the city we descried two figures on horseback coming towards us, and quickly perceived that one was a gentleman, the other his black servant.They were riding at a more rapid pace than the day warranted, but the gentleman reined in his sweating horse as he drew near to us, eyed us with a curiosity tempered by courtesy, bowed gravely, and put his horse to a canter again.
``Phew!'' said Nick, twisting in his saddle, ``I thought that all Creoles were lazy.''
``We have met the exception, perhaps,'' I answered.
``Did you take in that man?''