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Updated: September 12, 2025
"Mademoiselle Helene Victoire Marie de Saint-Gre, painted in a costume of Henry the Second's time, with a ruff, you notice, which she wore at a ball given by his Highness the Prince of Conde at Chantilly. A trifle haughty, if you like, Monsieur, but I venture to say you will be hopelessly in love with her within the hour." At this there was a general titter from the young gentlemen at the table.
Saint-Gre is a good fellow, a cousin of the present Marquis in France, and his ancestors held many positions of trust in the colony under the French regime. He entertains lavishly at Les Iles, his plantation on the Mississippi. He has the gossip of New Orleans at his tongue's tip, and you will be suspected of nothing save a desire to amuse yourselves if you go there."
"If I had four hundred livres," she said, "if I had four hundred livres!" "And what then?" I asked. "Monsieur," she said, "a terrible thing has happened. Auguste de Saint-Gre " "Auguste de Saint-Gre!" I exclaimed. "He is the son of that Monsieur de Saint-Gre of whom we spoke," she answered, "a wild lad, a spendthrift, a gambler, if you like.
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.
Her hair, tinged with gray, was crowned by a lace cap. "Madame," I said, bowing and coming forward, "I am David Ritchie, from Kentucky, and this is my cousin, Mr. Temple, of Charlestown. Monsieur Gratiot and Colonel Chouteau, of St. Louis, have been kind enough to give us letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre." And I handed her one of the letters which I had ready.
Her hair, tinged with gray, was crowned by a lace cap. "Madame," I said, bowing and coming forward, "I am David Ritchie, from Kentucky, and this is my cousin, Mr. Temple, of Charlestown. Monsieur Gratiot and Colonel Chouteau, of St. Louis, have been kind enough to give us letters to Monsieur de Saint-Gre." And I handed her one of the letters which I had ready.
The shadows now were sharply defined, the checkered foliage of the trees was flung in black against the yellow-white wall of the house with the lions, and the green-latticed gallery which we had watched the night before seemed silent and deserted. I knocked at the gate, and presently a bright-turbaned gardienne opened it. Was Monsieur de Saint-Gre at home.
The grassy path leading through the vista was trimly kept, and on either side of it in the moist, green shade of the great trees flowers bloomed in a profusion of startling colors, in splotches of scarlet and white and royal purple. Nick slipped from his horse. "Behold the mansion of Mademoiselle de Saint-Gre," said he, waving his hand up the vista. "How do you know?" I asked.
"All of which is neither here nor there, Monsieur," I answered sharply. "The question is purely a commercial one, and has nothing to do with the lady's character or position." "It is well said, Monsieur," Madame Bouvet put in. Monsieur Auguste de Saint-Gre shrugged his slim shoulders and laid down the portrait on the walnut table. "Four hundred livres, Monsieur," he said.
This done, I went out into the gallery, where Madame was already seated at her knitting, in the shade of the great tree that stood in the corner of the court and spread its branches over the eaves. She arose and courtesied, with a questioning smile. "Madame," I asked, "is it too early to present myself to Monsieur de Saint-Gre?"
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