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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Clive! And what became of them?" This time he gave me one of his searching looks, and it was not unmixed with astonishment. "Why do you ask. Monsieur?" he demanded. "Did you know them?" I must have shown that I was strangely agitated. For the moment I could not answer. "Monsieur Gratiot himself spoke of them to me," I said, after a little; "he said they were an interesting couple."
"Peste!" exclaimed Monsieur Gratiot, but he did not seem to be offended or shaken. "Davy," said Colonel Clark, "we have had enough of predictions for the present. Fetch this letter to Captain Bowman at the garrison up the street." He handed me the letter. "Are you afraid of the Indians?" "If I were, sir, I would not show it," I said, for he had encouraged me to talk freely to him.
Directing his man to fetch a certain kind of Madeira, he turned to me with a look of polite inquiry which was scarcely reassuring. And I reflected, the caution with which I had been endowed coming uppermost, that the man might have changed since Monsieur Gratiot had seen him.
What if he should come in and discover the party at the table? I stopped short in the hallway, and there Madame Bouvet overtook me. "How can I thank you, Monsieur?" she said. And then, "You will return the portrait to Monsieur de Saint-Gre?" "I have a letter from Monsieur Gratiot to that gentleman, which I shall deliver in the morning," I answered. "And now, Madame, I have a favor to ask of you."
The crickets chirped in the garden, the moon cast fantastic shadows from the pecan tree on the grass, while Nick, struggling with his French, talked to Madame Gratiot; and now and then their gay laughter made Monsieur Gratiot pause and smile as he talked to me of my errand.
Clark sat alone, a little apart, silent save a word now and then in a low tone to Monsieur Gratiot or Captain Bowman. Here was an odd assortment of the races which had overrun the new world. At intervals some disputant would pause in his talk to kill a mosquito or fight away a moth or a June-bug, but presently the argument reached such a pitch that the mosquitoes fed undisturbed.
He fell back wearily in his chair, while I stood astonished, wondering. I had thought to find him elated with victory. "Congress or Virginia," said he, "will have to pay Monsieur Vigo, and Father Gibault, and Monsieur Gratiot, and the other good people who have trusted me. Do you think they will do so?" "The Congress are far from here," I said.
"Let him sleep, by all means, until after Mass. Then you must come with us to Madame Chouteau's, my mother's. Her children and grandchildren dine with her every Sunday." "Madame Chouteau, my mother-in-law, is the queen regent of St. Louis, Mr. Ritchie," said Monsieur Gratiot, gayly. "We are all afraid of her, and I warn you that she is a very determined and formidable personage.
Shouting with a terrified glee, the boy fled to the garden path, Nick after him. "I like Mr. Temple," said Monsieur Gratiot, smiling. "He is young, but he seems to have had a history." "The Revolution ruined many families his was one," I answered, with what firmness of tone I could muster. And then Nick came back, carrying the shouting youngster on his shoulders.
Here and there, nestling against the gentle slopes of the hillside clearing, was a low-thatched farmhouse among its orchards. As we walked, Nick's escapade, instead of angering Monsieur Gratiot, seemed to present itself to him in a more and more ridiculous aspect, and twice he nudged me to call my attention to the two vengefully triumphant figures silhouetted against the moon ahead of us.
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