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Updated: June 27, 2025
He spoke to her once or twice more, as he waited on her, each time in English, as though he enjoyed the humble melody of its tone, and presently, as she turned to go, he said: "Madame Carraze!" She started a little, but bethought herself instantly that he had heard her name in Père Jerome's parlor.
There har nod one poss'bil'ty fo' me to be dad guardian of you' daughteh!" Madame Delphine started with surprise and alarm. "There is ondly one wad can be," he continued. "But oo, Miché?" "God." "Ah, Miché Vignevielle " She looked at him appealingly. "I don' goin' to dizzerd you, Madame Carraze," he said. She lifted her eyes. They filled.
Père Jerome laid his hat upon a chest of drawers, sat down opposite her, and said, as he wiped his kindly face: "Well, Madame Carraze?" Gentle as the tone was, she started, ceased fanning, lowered the fan to her knee, and commenced smoothing its feathers. "Père Jerome" She gnawed her lip and shook her head. "Well?" She burst into tears.
She lifted her eyes, and as they met the look of deep and placid kindness that was in his face, some courage returned, and she said: "Miché." "Wad you wand?" asked he, gently. "If it arrive to me to die" "Yez?" Her words were scarcely audible: "I wand you teg kyah my lill' girl." "You 'ave one lill' gal, Madame Carraze?" She nodded with her face down. "An' you godd some mo' chillen?" "No."
The good father might even have said a few words about her after her first departure; he had such an overflowing heart. "Madame Carraze," said Monsieur Vignevielle, "doze kine of note wad you 'an' me juz now is bein' contrefit. You muz tek kyah from doze kine of note.
"I nevva know dad, Madame Carraze. She's a lill small gal?" Mothers forget their daughters' stature. Madame Delphine said: "Yez." For a few moments neither spoke, and then Monsieur Vignevielle said: "I will do dad." "Lag she been you' h-own?" asked the mother, suffering from her own boldness. "She's a good lill' chile, eh?"
"Madame Carraze." She started wildly and almost screamed, though the voice was soft and mild. Monsieur Vignevielle came slowly forward from the shade of the wall. They met beside a bench, upon which she dropped her basket. "Ah, Miché Vignevielle, I thang de good God to mid you!" "Is dad so, Madame Carraze? Fo' w'y dad is?" "A man was chase me all dad way since my 'ouse!"
"Oh, I tek you' word fo' hall dad, Madame Carraze. It mague no differend wad she loog lag; I don' wan' see 'er." Madame Delphine's parting smile she went very shortly was gratitude beyond speech. Monsieur Vignevielle returned to the seat he had left, and resumed a newspaper, the Louisiana Gazette in all probability, which he had laid down upon Madame Delphine's entrance.
"Miché," she replied, looking up again with a tear standing in either eye, and then looking down once more as she began to speak, "I thing I thing she's lonesome." "You thing?" She nodded. "Ah! Madame Carraze," he said, partly extending his hand, "you see? 'Tis impossible to mague you' owze shud so tighd to priv-en dad. Madame, I med one mizteg." "Ah, non, Miché!" "Yez.
"Madame Carraze," he said, turning so suddenly as to make the frightened little woman start, but extending his palm with a show of frankness, and assuming a look of benignant patience, "'ow I kin fine doze note now, mongs' all de rez? Iv you p'iz nod to mague me doze troub'."
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