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And once I present our letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre, it will not be difficult to know any of them." "Look!" said he, "that young man, lover or husband, is a brute. On my soul, they are quarrelling." The three had stopped by a bench under a tree.
Colonel Chouteau and I will give you letters to certain French gentlemen in New Orleans who can be trusted. There is Saint-Gre, for instance, who puts a French Louisiana into his prayers. He has never forgiven O'Reilly and his Spaniards for the murder of his father in sixty-nine.
The rascal had wrenched it from her in the gallery and fled. "Monsieur," continued Madame, too excited to notice my interruption, "if I had four hundred livres I would buy it of him, and Monsieur de Saint-Gre pere would willingly pay it back in the morning." I reflected.
He paused interrupted by the laughter of the others. "When strangers of note or of position drift here and pass on to New Orleans, I always give them letters to Saint-Gre. He has a charming daughter and a worthless son." Monsieur Gratiot produced his tabatiere and took a pinch of snuff. I summoned my courage for the topic which had trembled all the evening on my lips.
"His looks were a little remarkable, come to think of it," answered Nick, settling down into his saddle again. Indeed, the man's face had struck me so forcibly that I was surprised out of an inquiry which I had meant to make of him, namely, how far we were from the Saint-Gre plantation.
Young Monsieur de Saint-Gre came forward with the good-natured, easy insolence to which he had been born, and looked me over. "Monsieur is an American," he said. "I understand that you have offered this miniature for four hundred livres," I said. "It is the Jew's price," he answered; "mais pardieu, what will you?" he added with a shrug, "I must have the money.
"Antoinette de Saint-Gre," I answered; "our letter is to her father." He made me a rueful bow. "I fear that I have undervalued you, Mr. Ritchie," he said. "You have no peer. I am unworthy to accompany you, and furthermore, it would be useless." "And why useless!" I inquired, laughing. "You have doubtless seen the lady, and she is yours, said he.
As I walked back to Madame Bouvet's I made up my mind that there was but the one thing to do, to go at once to Monsieur de Saint-Gre's plantation. Finding Madame still waiting in the gallery, I asked her to direct me thither. "You have but to follow the road that runs southward along the levee, and some three leagues will bring you to it, Monsieur. You will inquire for Monsieur de Saint-Gre."
"I am not proud of it," I answered shortly. "What the deuce is to do now!" he asked. "I cannot linger here," I answered; "I have business with Monsieur de Saint-Gre, and I must go back to New Orleans at once." "Then I will wait for you," said Nick. "Davy, I have met my fate." I laughed in spite of myself. "It seems to me that I have heard that remark before," I answered.
And once I present our letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre, it will not be difficult to know any of them." "Look!" said he, "that young man, lover or husband, is a brute. On my soul, they are quarrelling." The three had stopped by a bench under a tree.
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