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The man behind them passed, looked back, stopped and returned. "Gen'lemen, sirs, to you. Mr. Mahch, escuse me by pyo accident earwhilin' yo' colloquial terms. I know e'zacly what cause yo' sick transit. Yass, seh. Thass the imagination. I've had it, myseff." March stopped haughtily, Fair moved out of hearing, and Cornelius spoke low, with a sweet smile. "Yass, seh.
You coul'n' even suspec' that, only seeing she's rent', that way, and knowing that once in a while, those time, that whitenezz coul'n' be av-void'. Myseff, me, I've seen a man, ex-slave, so white you woul'n' think till they tell you; but then you'd see it black! But that li'l' girl of seven year', nobody coul'n' see that even avter told.
No, I ain't never ezac'ly hear the news that the other one dead, but I suspicioned her, befo' she lef', o' bein' consumpted, an' O anyhow she's dead to me, seh! Now, the nex' time I marries eh? O yes, but the present Mis' Leggett can't las' much longeh, seh. I mistakened myseff when I aspoused her.
But I uz bawn sassy. I ought to be jess ashame' o' myseff, talkin' dat familious to a gen'leman o' yo' powehs an' 'quaintances. Why you evm knows Mr. Mahch, don't you?" "Who, me? Me know Johnnie Mahch? Why, my dea' escuse my smile o' disdaain why Johnnie Mahch why why, I ra-aise' Johnnie!" "Why, dee Lawdy! Does you call him Johnnie to his face?" "Well, eh not offm ve'y seldom.
The handsome Creole's face was aglow with the pure delight of existence. "Well, Mistoo Itchlin, 'ow you enjoyin' that watah? As fah as myseff am concerned, 'I am afloat, I am afloat on the fee-us 'olling tide. I don't think you fine that stweet pwetty dusty to-day, Mistoo Itchlin?" Richling laughed. "It don't inflame my eyes to-day," he said.
Wouldn't miss dat fo' my Christmas gift. I 'spect dat gal Virgie will come wid Miss Vesty to de cer'mony, marster." "Perhaps so. You are not thinking of love, too, Samson?" "Well, don't know, marster. Virgie's a fine gal, sho' I am a little old, Marster Milburn, but I'll have to look out for myseff, I 'spec, now you done burnt down my spreein' place. Dar's a wife comin' in yar now.
But appopo of that news, I might infawm you some intelligens consunning myseff." "Good!" exclaimed Richling. "For it's good news, isn't it?" "Yesseh, as you may say, yes. Faw in fact, Mistoo Itchlin, I 'ave ass Dr. Seveeah to haugment me." "Hurrah!" cried Richling.
"Reely, I cann' tell you; but thass one thing, Doctah, I dunno if you 'ave notiz: the worl' halways take a gweat deal of welfa'e in a man w'en 'e's 'ising. I do that myseff. Some'ow I cann' 'e'p it." This bold speech was too much for him. He looked down at his symmetrical legs and went back to his desk. The Doctor was far from reassured. After a silence he called out:
Me, I may say, I wish I had a wife to make a man out of me." "I wish you had," said Richling. But Narcisse smiled on. "Well, au 'evoi'." He paused an instant with an earnest face. "Pehchance I'll meet you this evening, Mistoo Itchlin? Faw doubtless, like myseff, you will assist at the gweat a-ally faw the Union, the Const'ution, and the enfo'cemen' of the law. Dr. Seveeah will addwess."
The waiter swathed the zinc counter, and inquired why Narcisse did not make his demands at the present moment. "W'y I don't hass 'im now? Because w'en I hass 'im he know' he's got to do it! You thing I'm goin' to kill myseff workin'?" Nobody said yes, and by and by he found himself alive in the house of Madame Zénobie.
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