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Updated: June 20, 2025
"God made us, Maman," she said with a gentle, but stately smile. "Ha!" said the mother, her keen glance darting through her tears, "Sin made me, yes." "No," said 'Tite Poulette, "God made us. He made us Just as we are; not more white, not more black." "He made you, truly!" said Zalli. "You are so beautiful; I believe it well." She reached and drew the fair form to a kneeling posture.
O, no, no, no, no!" Next morning his brain was right. "Madame," he weakly whispered, "I was delirious last night?" Zalli shrugged. "Only a very, very, wee, wee trifle of a bit." "And did I say something wrong or foolish?" "O, no, no," she replied; "you only clasped your hands, so, and prayed, prayed all the time to the dear Virgin." "To the virgin?" asked the Dutchman, smiling incredulously.
Still the maiden moved not, looked not up, only rained down tears. "Shall it not be, 'Tite Poulette?" He tried in vain to draw her. "'Tite Poulette?" So tenderly he called! And then she spoke. "It is against the law." "It is not!" cried Zalli, seizing her round the waist and dragging her forward. "Take her! she is thine. I have robbed God long enough. Here are the sworn papers here!
Kristian Koppig, lying awake, but motionless and with closed eyes, hears in part, and, fancying he understands, rejoices with silent intensity. When the doctor is gone he calls Zalli. "I give you a great deal of trouble, eh, Madame John?" "No, no; you are no trouble at all. Had you the yellow fever ah! then!"
He was a member of the Good Children Social Club. As his parents lived with him, his wife would, according to custom, have been called Madame John but he had no wife. His father died, then his mother; last of all, himself. As he is about to be off, in comes Madame John, with 'Tïte Poulette, then an infant, on her arm. "Zalli," said he, "I am going." She bowed her head, and wept.
"That!" and "That!" and "That!" and the poor Dutchman struck wildly here and there, grasped the air, shut his eyes, staggered, reeled, fell, rose half up, fell again for good, and they were kicking him and jumping on him. All at once they scampered. Zalli had found the night-watch. "Buz-z-z-z!" went a rattle. "Buz-z-z-z!" went another. "Pick him up." "Is he alive?"
Four days and nights this head touched not a pillow." "And they died!" said Kristian Koppig. "The third night the gentleman went. Poor Senor! 'Sieur John, he did not know the harm, gave him some coffee and toast! The fourth night it rained and turned cool, and just before day the poor lady" "Died!" said Koppig. Zalli dropped her arms listlessly into her lap and her eyes ran brimful.
In such strain this young man wrote on trying to demonstrate the utter impossibility of his ever loving the lovable unfortunate, until the midnight tolling of the cathedral clock sent him to bed. About the same hour Zalli and 'Tite Poulette were kissing good-night. "'Tite Poulette, I want you to promise me one thing." "Well, Maman?"
To Zalli, of course, as to all "quadroon ladies," the festivities of the Conde-street ball-room were familiar of old.
The speaker's cheeks were burning red. Zalli wrung her hands. "It is nothing, mother; do not go near him." "But the pay, my child." "The pay matters not." "But he will bring it here; he wants the chance." That was the trouble, sure enough. About this time Kristian Koppig lost his position in the German importing house where, he had fondly told his mother, he was indispensable.
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