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Updated: June 23, 2025
On a certain night after one of these meetings had dispersed in its peculiar way, the members retiring two by two at intervals, Manuel Mazaro and M. D'Hemecourt were left alone, sitting close together in the dimly lighted room, the former speaking, the other, with no pleasant countenance, attending. It seemed to the young Cuban a proper precaution he was made of precautions to speak in English.
M. D'Hemecourt flushed in a way quite incomprehensible to the speaker, who nevertheless continued: "It was the charges," he said, with some slyness in his smile. "They are heavy, as ye say, and that's the very reason I say that's the very reason why I staid away, ye see, eh? I say that's the very reason I staid away."
"Madjor," unluckily interrupted the old man, suddenly looking up and speaking with subdued fervor, "for w'y iv Mazaro tol' you for w'y you din come more sooner? Dad is one 'eavy charge again' you." "Didn't Mazaro tell ye why I didn't come?" asked the other, beginning to be puzzled at his host's meaning. "Yez," replied M. D'Hemecourt, "bud one brev zhenteman should not be afraid of"
"Mayor Shaughness'," continued the Cuban; "he nev'r-a lo-va you' thaughter." Galahad was putting the maiden back from the door with his hand. "Pauline," he said, "it's a lie!" "An', Senor," pursued the Cuban, "if a was possiblee you' thaughter to lo-va heem, a-wouth-a be worse-a kine in worlt; but, Senor, I" M. D'Hemecourt made a majestic sign for silence.
M. D'Hemecourt entered with Pauline, and the exiles all rose up. Ah! but why say again she was lovely? Galahad stepped forward to meet her, took her hand, led her to the head of the board, and turning to the company, said: "Friends and fellow-patriots, Misthress Shaughnessy." There was no outburst of astonishment only the same old bowing, smiling, and murmuring of compliment.
"Differen' as possib'," replied M. D'Hemecourt He looked about upon the walls. The shelves were luscious with ranks of cooling sirups which he alone knew how to make.
Old D'Hemecourt drew him close to his bosom. The Spanish Creoles were, as the old man termed it, both cold and hot, but never warm. Major Shaughnessy was warm, and it was no uncommon thing to find those two apart from the others, talking in an undertone, and playing at confidantes like two schoolgirls. The kind old man was at this time drifting close up to his sixtieth year.
As he moved off, M. D'Hemecourt resumed: that in a last extremity he had opened, partly from dire want, partly for very love to homeless souls, the Café des Exilés. He had hoped that, as strong drink and high words were to be alike unknown to it, it might not prejudice sensible people; but it had.
As M. D'Hemecourt returned to the door through which he had come, he uttered an ejaculation of astonishment. Pauline stood before him. She spoke hurriedly in French. "Papa, papa, it is not true." "No, my child," he responded, "I am sure it is not true: I am sure it is all false; but why do I find you out of bed so late, little bird? The night is nearly gone." He laid his hand upon her cheek.
A certain hidden hearer instantly made up her mind to rush out between the two young men and be a heroine. "Non, non!" exclaimed M. D'Hemecourt excitedly. "Nod in de Café des Exilés nod now, Madjor. Go in dad door, hif you pliz, Madjor. You will heer 'im w'at he 'ave to say. Mague you'sev de troub'. Nod dad door diz one."
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