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G. Gourdon & Co. druggists, corner of Rampart and Hospital streets, New Orleans, in the "Commercial Bulletin," Sept. 18, 1838. "Ranaway, a negro named David Drier has two toes cut." Mr. William Brown, in the "Grand Gulf Advertiser," August 29, 1838. "Ranaway, Edmund has a scar on his right temple, and under his right eye, and holes in both ears." Mr.
The usual words, "Still nothing," were on his lips, when Gourdon curtly ordered him to go and fetch the citizen Rateau. A minute or two later Tournefort returned with the news that Rateau could nowhere be found. Chauvelin received the news without any comment; he only ordered Tournefort, somewhat roughly, back to his work. Then, as soon as the latter had gone, Gourdon turned upon his colleague.
"What shocking style that woman has! what talk, what manners!" she said. "I really don't think I can admit her any longer into our society, especially," she added, "when Monsieur Gourdon, the poet, is present." "There's social morality!" said the abbe, who had heard and observed all without saying a word.
"Will you explain " he began with a show of bluster. "With pleasure," replied Chauvelin blandly. "On my way hither, less than an hour ago, I met your man Rateau, a league or so from here." "You met Rateau!" exclaimed Gourdon impatiently. "Impossible! He was here then, I feel sure. You must have been mistaken." "I think not.
"There are always receivers prepared to take risks." "Very few," Gourdon assured him, "since we decreed that trafficking with aristo property was a crime punishable by death." Chauvelin said nothing for the moment.
"And you, my Lord?" she asked. "I stand as their accuser," said Edward. "Advance, prisoners! Now, most fair judge, what dost thou decree for the doom of Adam de Gourdon, rebel first, and since that the terror of our royal father's lieges, the robber of his treasurers, the rifler of our Cousin Pembroke's jewellery, the slayer of our deer?"
"Those English are scared at shadows," he said; "let us send Mercadier. He will know how to play with the Burgundian fellow." This amiable man was the captain of the Routiers, whose playful habits may be guessed from the fact that he is the gentleman who afterwards skinned Bertrand de Gourdon for shooting the king.
And the following morning at daybreak, Gourdon, who was only a subordinate officer on the Committee of Public Safety, took it upon himself to institute a perquisition in the chateau of Gentilly, which is situated close to the commune of that name. He was accompanied by his friend Tournefort and a gang of half a dozen ruffians recruited from the most disreputable cabarets of Paris.
"We thank M. de Gourdon," said he, "for granting the pillage to mariners and soldiers who had fought for it, and we acknowledge that without his good-will we cannot carry away anything we have got, for the ship lies on ground directly under his batteries and bulwarks.
The word "disc," contested by the opinionated Brunet, gave matter for discussions which lasted eleven months; in fact, until Gourdon the scientist, one evening when all present were on the point of getting seriously angry, annihilated the anti-discers by observing: "The moon, called a disc by poets, is undoubtedly a ball." "How do you know that?" retorted Brunet. "We have never seen but one side."
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