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Updated: June 5, 2025
But presently, in one of those dens called sailors' boarding-houses, somewhere down on the water-front near the Mint, he was brought face to face with a stranger whose manner seemed to offer the reverse proposition. Of him the youth asked questions and got answers. 'Thanase Beausoleil still lived, far beyond seas. How? why?
And Gaudin, and Laprade, Blouin, and Roussel, old Christofle Roussel of Beau Bassin, Duhon, Roman and Simonette Le Blanc, and Judge Landry, and Thériot, Colonel Thériot, Martin, Hébert again, Robichaux, Mouton, Mouton again, Robichaux again, Mouton oh, I've got 'em all! Castille, Beausoleil cousin of yours? Yes, he said so; good fellow, thinks you're the greatest woman alive."
"Yes," her companion repeats; "and so I tell you. The true business man is candid to all, communicative to none. And yet I open my heart to you. I can't help it; it won't stay shut. And you must see, I'm sure you must, that there's something more in there besides money; don't you?" His tone grows tender. Madame Beausoleil steals a glance toward him, a grave, timid glance.
The last note trembles on the air. There is silence. Then someone moves from a chair, and then the single cry of admiration and delight from the player's companion is the player's name, "Marguerite Beausoleil!" Hours afterward there sat Claude in the seat where he had sunk down when he heard that name. The artist's visitors had made a long stay, but at length they were gone.
Will you trust me and tell me as my one only trusted friend freely and fully as I would tell you?" Madame Beausoleil felt the odds against her, but she looked into her companion's face with bright, frank eyes and said: "Yass, I t'ink yass; I t'ink 'tis so." "Thanks!" said her friend, with unnecessary fervor and tenderness.
Claude did not dispute the point, though he hardly thought this case could be worked that way. He returned in silent thought to the question, how to find Madame Beausoleil. He tried the mail; no response. He thought of advertising; but that would never do.
But the bank; the carriage; that lady; those earlier companions, no, this could not be Marguerite. Marguerite would have been with her mother. Now, if one could see Madame Beausoleil's daughter with Madame Beausoleil at her side to identify her and distinguish her from this flashing and vanishing apparition it would clear away a trying perplexity.
As I say, he went slowly down the old rue Bourbon. He had no hunger; he would pass by the Women's Exchange. There was nothing to stop there for; was not Madame Beausoleil in Terrebonne, and Marguerite the guest of that chattering woman in silk and laces? But when he reached the Exchange doors he drifted in as silently and supinely as any drift-log would float into the new crevasse.
"Pardon!" he exclaimed, checking himself until he was red; "I just happened to think of something very funny that happened last week in Arkansas Madame Beausoleil, I know it must look odd," his voice still trembled a little, but he kept a sober face "and yet I must take just a moment for business. Claude, can I see you?" They went a step aside. Mr.
I understand; yes. What State Alabama, yes, Alabama. You must excuse me, I didn't understand you at first. Yes, this is Alabama." "Thank you, sir. Have you seen anywhere, coming back from the war, a young man named 'Thanase Beausoleil?" "Back from the war! Why, everybody done got back from the war long ago."
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