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"How d'dyou know my name was Jones?" he asked; but, without pausing for the Creole's answer, furnished in his reckless way some further specimens of West-Floridian English; and the conciseness with which he presented full intelligence of his home, family, calling, lodging-house, and present and future plans, might have passed for consummate art, had it not been the most run-wild nature.
M. St.-Ange bowed and smiled, and was about to call attention, by both gesture and speech, to a singular object on top of the still uncovered head, when the nervous motion of the Américain anticipated him, as, throwing up an immense hand, he drew down a large roll of bank-notes. The crowd laughed, the West-Floridian joining, and began to disperse.
"Jools," said the West-Floridian, laying his great hand tenderly upon the Creole's shoulder, as they stepped out upon the banquette, "do you think you have any shore hopes of heaven?" "Yass!" replied St.-Ange; "I am sure-sure. I thing everybody will go to heaven.
He made the sign of the cross as the parson knelt in prayer, and even whispered "Hail Mary," etc., quite through, twice over. Morning broke in summer glory upon a cluster of villas behind the city, nestled under live-oaks and magnolias on the banks of a deep bayou, and known as Suburb St. Jean. With the first beam came the West-Floridian and the Creole out upon the bank below the village.
"Humph! an Américain a West-Floridian; bah!" "But wait; 'st! he is speaking; listen!" "To who is he speak ?" "Sh-sh-sh! to Jules." "Jules who?" "Silence, you! To Jules St.-Ange, what howe me a bill since long time. Sh-sh-sh!" Then the voice was heard.
"How d'dyou know my name was Jones?" he asked; but, without pausing for the Creole's answer, furnished in his reckless way some further specimens of West-Floridian English; and the conciseness with which he presented full intelligence of his home, family, calling, lodging-house, and present and future plans, might have passed for consummate art, had it not been the most run-wild nature.
With the first beam came the West-Floridian and the Creole out upon the bank below the village. Upon the parson's arm hung a pair of antique saddle-bags. Baptiste limped wearily behind; both his eyes were encircled with broad, blue rings, and one cheek-bone bore the official impress of every knuckle of Colossus's left hand. The "beautiful to take care of somebody" had lost his charge.
M. St.-Ange bowed and smiled, and was about to call attention, by both gesture and speech, to a singular object on top of the still uncovered head, when the nervous motion of the Americain anticipated him, as, throwing up an immense hand, he drew down a large roll of bank-notes. The crowd laughed, the West-Floridian joining, and began to disperse.
"Humph! an Americain a West-Floridian; bah!" "But wait; 'st! he is speaking; listen!" "To who is he speak ?" "Sh-sh-sh! to Jules." "Jules who?" "Silence, you! To Jules St.-Ange, what howe me a bill since long time. Sh-sh-sh!" Then the voice was heard.
"Jools," said the West-Floridian, laying his great hand tenderly upon the Creole's shoulder, as they stepped out upon the banquette, "do you think you have any shore hopes of heaven?" "Yass!" replied St.-Ange; "I am sure-sure. I thing everybody will go to heaven.
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