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Updated: June 19, 2025
Claude let silence speak consent. He stooped, and began to load himself with their joint property. He had had, in his life, several sorts of trouble of mind; but only just now at twenty was he making the acquaintance of his conscience. Vermilionville was the call that had been sounding within him all these months, and Marguerite was the haunting fantasy.
A little after 'Thanase's enlistment the priest and the ex-governor, who, if I remember right, was home only transiently from camp, met on the court-house square of Vermilionville, and stood to chat a bit, while others contemplated from across the deep mud of the street these two interesting representatives of sword and gown.
Look to your mother, Marguerite; look to her! But Marguerite is not there, not even in Vermilionville; nor yet in Lafayette parish; nor anywhere throughout the wide prairies of Opelousas or Attakapas. Triumph fills Mr. Tarbox's breast. "Well," he says, restoring the book to its hiding-place, "seems like I ought to be satisfied with that; doesn't it to you?" It does; Zoséphine says so.
Now, you know, that man, hid away there in the swamp at Grande Pointe, he little thinks that six or eight men away off here in Vermilionville are going to bed to-night better men that's it, sir yes, sir, that's it yes, sir! better men just for having heard of him!" Mr. Tarbox smiled with affectionate approval, and began to move away; but the other put out a hand
The long sunset was sending its last rays across the grove-dotted land, and the birds in every tree were filling the air with their sunset song-burst, when the two friends re-entered the avenue of oaks. They had agreed to join their fortunes. Now their talk drifted upon other subjects. "I came back to Vermilionville purposely to see you," said Mr. Tarbox.
Vermilionville is not the worst, at all. I have seen large, and enlarging, lives there. Hither came the two St. Pierres. "No," Claude said; "they would not go to the Beausoleil house." Privately he would make himself believe he had not returned to any thing named Beausoleil, but only and simply to Vermilionville.
I would not wish to offend the self-regard of Vermilionville. But what a place in which to seek enlargement of life!
But to-day and to-morrow 'Alabama' 'here I rest. I feel constrained" he laid his hand upon his heart, closed one eye, and whispered "to stay. I would fain spend the sabbath in sweet Vermilionville. You get my idea?" The sabbath afternoon, beyond the town, where Mr. Tarbox strolled, was lovelier than can be told. Yet he was troubled. Zoséphine had not thus far given him a moment alone.
While he still pondered, the father spoke. "Claude, I tell you!" his face lighted up with courage and ambition. "We better go Mervilionville!" Claude's heart leaped, but he kept his countenance. "Vermilionville? No, papa; you will not like Vermilionville." "Yaas! I will like him. 'Tis good place! Bonaventure come from yondah.
Imagine, "If Madame Beausoleil, late of Vermilionville, will leave her address at this office, she will hear of something not in the least to her advantage." He couldn't advertise. It was midday following the eve of his confession to his father.
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