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Updated: June 20, 2025
I dunno; but thass my opinion. If you ah p'oceeding at yo' residence, Mistoo Itchlin, I'll juz continue my p'omenade in yo' society if not intooding" Richling smiled candidly. "Your company's worth all it costs, Narcisse. Excuse me; I always forget your last name and your first is so appropriate." It was worth all it cost, though Richling could ill afford the purchase.
Richling repressed a smile. "Thank you! But I don't care to invest it." "Pay you ten pe' cent. a month." "But we can't spare it," said Richling, smiling toward Mary. "We may need part of it ourselves." "I tell you, 'eally, Mistoo Itchlin, I nevveh baw' money; but it juz 'appen I kin use that juz at the pwesent."
Richling reflected with downcast eyes. "It seems to me," he said, when he had passed his hand across his mouth in apparent meditation and looked up, "seems to me I'd conclude both, without delay." "Yes? But accawding to what fawmule, Mistoo Itchlin? 'Ay, 'tis theh is the 'ub, in fact, as Lawd By'on say. Is it to migs the two style' that you advise?"
Mistoo Itchlin, look' like you a lil mo' hawd to yeh but egscuse me. I s'pose you muz be advancing in business, Mistoo Itchlin. I say I s'pose you muz be gittin' along!" "I? Yes; yes, I must." He started. "I'm 'appy to yeh it!" said Narcisse. His innocent kindness was a rebuke. Richling began to offer a cordial parting salutation, but Narcisse said: "You goin' that way? Well, I kin go that way."
"Thaz the way, sometime," he said, and then with sudden gravity: "And, by-the-by, Misses Wiley, speakin' of Mistoo Itchlin, if you could baw' me two dollahs an' a 'alf juz till tomaw mawnin till I kin sen' it you fum the office Because that money I've got faw Mistoo Itchlin is in the shape of a check, and anyhow I'm c'owding me a little to pay that whole sum-total to Mistoo Itchlin.
Richling could but confess the whole thing was delicious. "Yo humble servan', seh," responded the smiling Creole, with a flattered bow. Then, assuming a gravity becoming the historian, he said: "In fact, 'tis a gweat mistake, that statement that Lawd By'on evva qua'led with his lady, Mistoo Itchlin. But I s'pose you know 'tis but a slandeh of the pwess. Yesseh.
The handsome Creole's face was aglow with the pure delight of existence. "Well, Mistoo Itchlin, 'ow you enjoyin' that watah? As fah as myseff am concerned, 'I am afloat, I am afloat on the fee-us 'olling tide. I don't think you fine that stweet pwetty dusty to-day, Mistoo Itchlin?" Richling laughed. "It don't inflame my eyes to-day," he said.
Speakin' of close, Mistoo Itchlin, egscuse me if 'tis a fair question, w'at was yo' objec' in buyin' that tawpaulin hat an' jacket lass week ad that sto' on the levee? You din know I saw you, but I juz 'appen to see you, in fact." Sevier's step was on the stair. The Doctor shook hands with Richling and sank into the chair at his desk. "Anything turned up yet, Richling?"
So now, Richling, a moment earlier borne down by the dreadful shadow of the Parish Prison, left it behind him as he walked and laughed and chatted with his borrower. He felt very free with Narcisse, for the reason that would have made a wiser person constrained, lack of respect for him. "Mistoo Itchlin, you know," said the Creole, "I like you to call me Nahcisse.
The approach of another passer roused him, and he started on. The step gained upon him closed up with him; and at the moment when he expected to see the person go by, a hand was laid gently on his shoulder. "Mistoo Itchlin, I 'ope you well, seh!" One may take his choice between the two, but there is no escaping both in this life: the creditor the borrower. Either, but never neither.
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