Beforethesummerhadfairlybegun，strangerumoursbegantofloataboutinmusicalcircles。M。Maugewouldnolongermanagetheopera，butitwouldbeturnedintothehandsofAmericans，asyndicate。Bah!TheseEnglish—speakingpeoplecoulddonothingunlesstherewasatrust，asyndicate，acompanyimmenseanddishonest。Itwasgoingtobeaguaranteebusiness，withastrictlyfinancialbasis。Butworsethanallthis，thenewmanager，whowasnowinFrance，wouldnotonlyprocuretheartists，butaneworchestra，anewleader。M’sieuFortiergrewapprehensiveatthis，forheknewwhatthelossofhisplacewouldmeantohim。
SeptemberandOctobercame，andthepaperswerefilledwithaccountsofthenewartistsfromFranceandoftheneworchestraleadertoo。Hewasdescribedasamosttalented，progressive，energeticyoungman。M’sieuFortier’sheartsankattheword\"progressive。\"Hewasanythingbutthat。TheNewOrleansCreolebloodflowedtoosluggishlyinhisoldveins。
Novembercame；theoperareopened。M’sieuFortierwasnotre—engaged。
\"Minesse，\"hesaidwithacatchinhisvoicethatstronglyresembledasob，\"Minesse，wemus’gohongrysometime。Ah，monpauvreviolon!Ah，monDieu，deyputush’out，an’deywillnothaveus。Nev’min’，wewillsinganyhow。\"Anddrawinghisbowacrossthestrings，hesanginhisthin，quaveringvoice，\"Salutdemeure，chasteetpure。\"
Itisstrangewhatapeculiarpoweroffascinationformerhauntshaveforthehumanmind。Thecriminal，afterhehasfledfromjustice，stealsbackandskulksaboutthesceneofhiscrime；theemployeethrownfromworkhangsabouttheplaceofhisformerindustry；theschoolboy，truantorexpelled，peepsinattheschool—gateandtauntsthegoodboyswithin。M’sieuFortierwasnoexception。Nightafternightoftheperformancesheclimbedthestairsoftheoperaandsat，anattentivelistenertotheorchestra，withoneearinclinedtothestage，andaquizzicalexpressiononhiswrinkledface。Thenhewouldgohome，andpatMinesse，andfondletheviolin。
\"Ah，Minesse，dosenewplayer!Notonebitcandeyplay。Suchtones，Minesse，suchtones!Allthetimeportemento，oh，sover’
bad!Ah，monchereviolon，wecanplay。\"Andhewouldplayandsingaromance，andsmiletenderlytohimself。
AtfirstitusedtobeintothedeuxiemesthatM’sieuFortierwent，intothefrontseats。Butsoontheyweretooexpensive，andafterall，onecouldhearjustaswellinthefourthrowasinthefirst。Afterawhileeventherearrowofthedeuxiemeswastoocostly，andthelittlemusicianwendedhiswaywiththeplebeiansaroundonToulouseStreet，andclimbedthelong，tediousflightofstairsintothetroisiemes。Itmakesnodifferencetobeonerowhigher。Itwasmoretotheliking，afterall。Onefeltmoreathomeuphereamongthepeople。Ifonewasthirsty，onecoulddrinkaglassofwineorbeerbeingpassedaboutbythelibrettoboys，andthemusicsoundedjustaswell。
ButithappenedonenightthatM’sieucouldnotevenaffordtoclimbtheToulouseStreetstairs。Tobesure，therewasyetanothergallery，thequatriemes，wherethepeanutboyswentforadime，butM’sieucouldnotgetdowntothatyet。Sohestayedoutsideuntilallthebeautifulwomenintheirwarmwraps，abright—huedchatteringthrong，camedownthegrandstaircasetotheircarriages。
ItwasononeofthesenightsthatCourceyandMartelfoundhimshiveringatthecorner。
\"Hello，M’sieuFortier，\"criedCourcey，\"areyoureadytoletmehavethatviolinyet？\"
\"Forshame!\"interruptedMartel。
\"Fiftydollars，youknow，\"continuedCourcey，takingnoheedofhisfriend’sinterpolation。
M’sieuFortiermadeacourtlybow。\"EefMonsieurwillcallatmy’ouseondemorrow，hemayhavemonviolon，\"hesaidhuskily；
thenturnedabruptlyonhisheel，andwentdownBourbonStreet，hisshouldersdrawnhighasthoughhewerecold。
WhenCourceyandMartelenteredthegateofthelittlehouseonBayouRoadthenextday，therefloatedouttotheirearsawordlesssongthrillingfromtheviolin，asongthattoldmorethanspeechortearsorgesturescouldhavedoneoftheuttersorrowanddesolationofthelittleoldman。Theywalkedsoftlyuptheshortredbrickwalkandtappedatthedoor。Within，M’sieuFortierwascaressingtheviolin，withsilenttearsstreamingdownhiswrinkledgrayface。
Therewasnotmuchsaidoneitherside。Courceycameawaywiththeinstrument，leavingthemoneybehind，whileMartelgrumbledattheessentiallysordid，mercenaryspiritoftheworld。M’sieuFortierturnedbackintotheroom，afterbowinghisvisitorsoutwithold—timeFrenchcourtliness，andturningtothesleepywhitecat，saidwithadrysob：
\"Minesse，dere’sonlymean’younow。\"
Aboutsixdayslater，Courcey’smorningdreamsweredisturbedbytheannouncementofavisitor。Hastilydoingatoilet，hedescendedthestairstofindM’sieuFortiernervouslypacingthehallfloor。
\"Icomefo’bringbackyou’money，yaas。Icannotsleep，I
cannoteat，Ionlycry，andt’ink，andweeshfo’monviolon；andMinesse，an’deol’womantoo，deymopean’lookbadtoo，allformonviolon。Itryfo’tousedatmoney，buteetburnan’stinglakbloodmoney。Ifeellak’Idonesol’mychild。Icannotgoatl’operanomo’，It’inkofmonviolon。Istarvebefo’Ilivewidout。Myheart，heisbroke，Idieformonviolon。\"
Courceylefttheroomandreturnedwiththeinstrument。
\"M’sieuFortier，\"hesaid，bowinglow，ashehandedthecasetothelittleman，\"takeyourviolin；itwasawhimwithme，apassionwithyou。Andasforthemoney，why，keepthattoo；itwasworthahundreddollarstohavepossessedsuchaninstrumentevenforsixdays。\"
BYTHEBAYOUST。JOHN
TheBayouSt。Johnslowlymakesitsdark—huedwaythroughreedsandrushes，highbanksandflatslopes，untilitcastsitselfintotheturbulentbosomofLakePontchartrain。Itisdark，likethepassionatewomenofEgypt；placid，liketheirbroadbrows；
deep，silent，liketheirsouls。Withinitsbosomarehiddenromancesandstories，suchasweresungbyminstrelsofold。
Fromthesourcetothemouthisnotfardistant，visiblyspeaking，butinthelifeofthebayouahundredheart—milescouldscarcemeasureit。Justwhereitwindsaboutthenorthwestofthecityaresomeofitsmostbeautifulbits，orangegrovesononeside，andquaintoldSpanishgardensontheother。Whocaresthatthebridgesaremodern，andthathereandtherepertboat—housesreartheirprimheads？Itisthebayou，eventhoughitbeinvadedwiththeruthlessvandalismoftheimprovingidea，andcanaboat—housekillthebeautyofamoss—growncenturionofanoakwithahistoryasoldasthecity？Cananironbridgewithtarantulapiersdetractfromthesongofamocking—birdinafragrantorangegrove？Weknowthatfartherout，pasttheConfederateSoldiers’Home，——thatrose—embowered，ramblingplaceofgray—coated，white—hairedoldmenwithbrokenheartsforalostcause，——itflows，unimpededbythefaintestconceptionofman，andweloveitallthemorethat，likethePriestessofIsis，itiscalm—browed，eveninindignity。
ToitsbanksattheendofMossStreet，onedaytherecameamanandamaiden。Theywerebothtallandlitheandslender，withtheagilityofyouthandfire。HewasthefinalconcentrationoftheessenceofSpanishpassionfilteredintoanAmericanframe；
she，arepressedSouthernexotic，tryingtofititselfintothenichesofamoderncivilisation。Truly，afittingcoupletoseekthebayoubanks。
Theyclimbedtheleveethatstretchedafeeblechecktowatersthatseldomrise，andontheothersideoftheembankment，atthebrinkoftheriver，shesatonalog，andimpatientlypulledoffthelittlecapshewore。Theskiesweregray，heavy，overcast，withanoccasionalwind—riftinthecloudsthatonlyrevealednewdepthsofgraynessbehind；thetidelesswatersmurmuredafaintrippleagainstthelogsandjuttingbeamsofthebreakwater，andwereansweredbythecrescendowailofthedriedreedsontheotherbank，——reedsthatrustledandmoanedamongthemselvesforthegoldendaysofsummersunshine。
Hestoodup，hisdarkformaslendersilhouetteagainstthesky；
shelookedupwardfromherlog，andtheireyesmetwithanexquisiteshockofrecognisingunderstanding；darkeyesintodarkeyes，IberianfireintoIberianfire，souluntosoul：itwasenough。Hesatdownandtookherintohisarms，andintheeeriemurmurofthestormcomingtheytalkedofthefuture。
\"AndthenIhopetogotoItalyorFrance。Itisonlythere，beneaththosefarSouthernskies，thatIcouldeverhopetoattaintoanythingthatthesoulwithinmesaysIcan。Ihavewastedsomuchtimeinthemerestruggleforbread，whilethepowersofahighercallinghaveclamouredforrecognitionandexpression。Iwillgosomedayandredeemmyself。\"
Shewassilentamoment，watchingwithhalf—closedlidsadejected—lookinghunterontheotherbank，andaleandogwhotrailedthroughthereedsbehindhimwithdroopingtail。Thensheasked：
\"AndI——whatwillbecomeofme？\"
\"You，Athanasia？Thereisagreatfuturebeforeyou，littlewoman，andIandmylovecanonlymarit。Trytoforgetmeandgoyourway。Iamonlytheepitomeofunhappinessandill—success。\"
Butshelaughedandwouldhavenoneofit。
Willyoueverforgetthatday，Athanasia？Howthelittlegamins，Creolethroughout，camehalfshylynearthelog，fishing，andexchangingfurtivewhispersandhalf—concealedglancesatthesilentcouple。Theiranglingwasrewardedonlybyalittleblackwater—moccasinthatwriggledandforkeditsvenomousredtongueinanattempttoexerciseitsdeath—dealingprerogative。ThisAthanasiainsistedmustgobackintoitsnativeblackwaters，andpaidthepricetheboysaskedthatitmightenjoyitsfreedom。
Thegaminslaughedandchatteredintheirsoftpatois；theDonsmiledtenderlyuponAthanasia，andshedurstnotlookatthereedsasshetalked，lesttheircrescendosadnessyieldaforeboding。Justthenaweegirlappeared，cladinamulti—huedgarment，evidentlyasistertothesmallfishermen。Herkeenblackeyessetinaduskyfaceglancedsharplyandsuspiciouslyatthegroupassheclamberedoverthewetembankment，anditseemedthedrizzlingmistgrewcolder，thesobbingwindmorepronouncedinitspropheticwail。Athanasiarosesuddenly。\"Letusgo，\"shesaid；\"theeternalfemininehasspoileditall。\"
Thebayouflowsascalmly，asdarkly，asfullofhiddenpassionsasever。Onanightyearsafter，themoonwasshininguponitwithasilverytendernessthatseemedbrighter，morecaressinglylingeringthananywherewithintheoldcity。Behind，thererosethespiresandtowers；before，onlythereeds，greennow，andsoftintheirrustlingsandwhisperingsforthefuture。Falsereeds!Theytellthemselvesoftheirhappinesstobe，anditallendsindrystalksanddrizzlingskies。Themocking—birdinthefragrantorangegrovesendsouthisnightsong，andblendsitwiththecricket’schirp，astheblossomsoforangeandmagnoliamingletheirperfumewiththeearthysmellofasummerrainjustblownover。Perfectinitsstillness，absoluteinitsbeauty，tenderlyhealinginitssuggestionofpeace，thenightinitsclear—lighted，cloudlesssweetnessenfoldsAthanasia，asshestandsontheleveeandgazesdownattheoldlog，nowalmosthiddenintheluxuriantgrass。
\"Itwastheeternalfemininethatspoiledourdreamthatdayasitspoiledtheafterlife，wasitnot？\"
ButtheBayouSt。Johndidnotanswer。Itmerelygatheredintoitssilentbosomanotherbroken—heartedromance，andfloweddispassionatelyonitsway。
WHENTHEBAYOUOVERFLOWS
WhenthesungoesdownbehindthegreatoaksalongtheBayouTechenearFranklin，itthrowsredneedlesoflightintothedarkwoods，andleavesagreatglowonthestillbayou。Ma’amMoutonpausedathergateandcastacontemplativelookattheredsky。
\"Hitwillrainto—morrow，sho’。Imus’gitinmyt’ings。\"
Ma’amMouton’sremarkmusthavebeenaddressedtoherselfortotheleandog，fornooneelsewasvisible。Shemovedbrisklyabouttheyard，takingthingsfromtheline，whenLouisette’svoicecalledcheerily：
\"Ah，Ma’amMouton，canIhelp？\"
Louisettewaspetiteandplumpandblack—haired。Louisette’seyesdanced，andherlipswereredandtempting。Ma’amMouton’sfacerelaxedasthesmallbrownhandsrelievedhersoftheirburden。
\"Sylves’，hashecomeyet？\"askedtheredmouth。
\"Maisnon，machere，\"saidMa’amMouton，sadly，\"Ican’tellfo’
w’yhenocomehomesoondeseday。Ahme，Ifeellak’somet’inggoin’happen。Hesostrange。\"
Evenasshespokeaquicknervousstepwasheardcrunchingupthebrickwalk。Sylves’pausedaninstantwithoutthekitchendoor，hisfaceturnedtothesettingsun。Hewastallandslimandagile；atrue’cajan。
\"Bonjour，Louisette，\"helaughed。\"Eh，maman!\"
\"Ah，myson，youarever’late。\"
Sylves’frowned，butsaidnothing。Itwasasilentsupperthatfollowed。Louisettewassad，Ma’amMoutonsighednowandthen，Sylves’wasconstrained。
\"Maman，\"hesaidatlength，\"Iamgoin’away。\"
Ma’amMoutondroppedherforkandstaredathimwithunseeingeyes；then，asshecomprehendedhisremark，sheputherhandouttohimwithapitifulgesture。
\"Sylves’!\"criedLouisette，springingtoherfeet。
\"Maman，don’t，don’t!\"hesaidweakly；thengatheringstrengthfromthesilence，heburstforth：
\"Yaas，I’mgoin’awaytowork。I’mtiredofdis，jus’dig，dig，workindefiel’，nothin’toseebutdecloud，detree，debayou。Idon’tlak’NewOrleans；ittoonearhere，derenomo’
moneydere。Igoupfo’MardiGras，an’desamepeople，desamestrit’。I’mgoin’toChicago!\"
\"Sylves’!\"screamedbothwomenatonce。
Chicago!Thatvast，far—offcitythatseemedinanotherworld。
Chicago!Anametoconjurewithforwickedness。
\"W’y，yaas，\"continuedSylves’，\"lotsofboysIknowdere。Henrian’JosephLascaudan’Arthur，deywritemewhatmoneydeymek’
incigar。Icanmek’alivin’too。Icanmek’finecigar。SeehowIdoinNewOrleansindewinter。\"
\"Oh，Sylves’，\"wailedLouisette，\"denyou’llforgetme!\"
\"Non，non，machere，\"heansweredtenderly。\"Iwillcomebackwhenthebayouoverflowsagain，an’mamanan’Louisettewillhavefinepresent。\"
Ma’amMoutonhadbowedherheadonherhands，andwasrockingtoandfroinanagonyofdry—eyedmisery。
Sylves’wenttohersideandknelt。\"Maman，\"hesaidsoftly，\"maman，youmus’notcry。Alldeboysgo’way，an’Iwillcomebackreech，an’youwon’thavefo’toworknomo’。\"
ButMa’amMoutonwasinconsolable。
ItwasevenasSylves’hadsaid。Inthesummer—timetheboysoftheBayouTechewouldworkinthefieldorinthetownofFranklin，hack—drivinganddoingoddjobs。Whenwintercame，therewasageneralexodustoNewOrleans，ahundredmilesaway，whereworkwastobehadascigar—makers。Thereismoney，plentyofit，incigar—making，ifonecangetintherightplace。Oflate，however，therehadbeenageneralslacknessofthetrade。
LastwinteroftentimesSylves’hadwalkedthestreetsoutofwork。ManyweretheCreoleboyswhohadgonetoChicagotoearnaliving，forthecigar—makingtradeflourishestherewonderfully。FriendsofSylves’hadgone，andwrittenhomeglowingaccountsofthemoneytobehadalmostfortheasking。
Whenone’sbloodleapsfornewscenes，newadventures，andoneneedsmoney，whatistheuseoffritteringawaytimealternatelybetweentheBayouTecheandNewOrleans？Sylves’hadbroodedallsummer，andnowthatSeptemberhadcome，hewasdeterminedtogo。
Louisette，theorphan，thegirl—lover，whomeveryoneinFranklinknewwouldsomedaybeMa’amMouton’sdaughter—in—law，weptandpleadedinvain。Sylves’kissedherquiveringlips。
\"Machere，\"hewouldsay，\"t’ink，Iwillbringyouonefinediamon’ring，nex’spring，whendebayouoverflowsagain。\"
Louisettewouldfainbecontentwiththispromise。AsforMa’amMouton，sheseemedtohavegrownagesolder。HerSylves’wasgoingfromher；Sylves’，whosetripstoNewOrleanshadbeenayearlysourceofheart—break，wasgoingfarawayformonthstothatmistilywickedcity，athousandmilesaway。
Octobercame，andSylves’hadgone。Ma’amMoutonhadkeptupbravelyuntilthelast，whenwithonefinalcrysheextendedherarmstothepitilesstrainbearinghimnorthward。ThensheandLouisettewenthomedrearily，theoneleaningupontheother。
Ah，thatwasagreatdaywhenthefirstlettercamefromChicago!
Louisettecamerunninginbreathlesslyfromthepost—office，andtogethertheyreaditagainandagain。Chicagowassuchawonderfulcity，saidSylves’。Why，itwasalwayslikeNewOrleansatMardiGraswiththepeople。HehadseenJosephLascaud，andhehadaplacetoworkpromisedhim。Hewaswell，buthewanted，oh，somuch，toseemamanandLouisette。Butthen，hecouldwait。
Waseversuchawonderfulletter？Louisettesatforanhourafterwardsbuildinggorgeousair—castles，whileMa’amMoutonfingeredthepaperandmurmuredprayerstotheVirginforSylves’。Whenthebayouoverflowedagain？ThatwouldbeinApril。ThenLouisettecaughtherselflookingcriticallyatherslenderbrownfingers，andblushedfuriously，thoughMa’amMoutoncouldnotseeherinthegatheringtwilight。
Nextweektherewasanotherletter，evenmorewonderfulthanthefirst。Sylves’hadfoundwork。Hewasmakingcigars，andwasearningtwodollarsaday。Suchwages!Ma’amMoutonandLouisettebegantoplanprettythingsforthebrowncottageontheTeche。
Thatwasapleasantwinter，afterall。True，therewasnoSylves’，butthenhewasalwaysinNewOrleansforafewmonthsanyway。Therewerehisletters，fullofwondroustalesofthegreatqueercity，wherecarswentbyropesunderground，andwheretherewasnoMardiGrasandthepeopledidnotmindLent。Nowandthentherewouldbeapresent，akeepsakeforLouisette，andsomemoneyformaman。Theywouldplanimprovementsforthecottage，andLouisettebegantodosewinganddaintycrochet，whichshewouldhidewithablushifanyonehintedatatrousseau。
ItwasMarchnow，andSpring—time。Thebayoubegantosweepdownbetweenitsbankslesssluggishlythanbefore；itwasrising，andsoonwouldspreadoveritstinylevees。Thedoorscouldbeleftopennow，thoughthetreeswerenotyetgreen；butthendownherethetreesdonotswellandbudslowlyandteaseyouforweekswithpromisesofgreenness。Dearno，theysimplylookmysterious，andtheirtwigsshakeagainsteachotherandtellsecretsoftheleavesthatwillsoonbeborn。Thenonemorningyouawake，andlo，itisagreenworld!Theboughshavesuddenlyclothedthemselvesallinawondrousgarment，andyoufeelthebloodrunriotinyourveinsoutofpuresympathy。
OnedayinMarch，itwaswarmandsweet。Underfootwereviolets，andweewhitestarflowerspeeringthroughthebaby—grass。Theskywasblue，withflecksofwhitecloudsreflectingthemselvesinthebrownbayou。LouisettetrippeduptheredbrickwalkwiththeChicagoletterinherhand，andpausedaminuteatthedoortolookupontheleapingwaters，hereyesdancing。
\"Iknowthebayoumustbereadytooverflow，\"wenttheletterinthecarefullyphrasedFrenchthatthebrotherstaughtattheparochialschool，\"andIamglad，forIwanttoseethedearmamanandmyLouisette。Iamnotsowell，andMonsieurledocteursaysitiswellformetogototheSouthagain。\"
Monsieurledocteur!Sylves’notwell!ThethoughtstruckachilltotheheartsofMa’amMoutonandLouisette，butnotforlong。Ofcourse，Sylves’wasnotwell，heneededsomeofmaman’stisanes。Thenhewashomesick；itwastobeexpected。
Atlastthegreatdaycame，Sylves’wouldbehome。ThebrownwatersofthebayouhadspreaduntiltheywereseeminglytryingtorivaltheMississippiinwidth。Thelittlehousewasscrubbedandcleaneduntilitshoneagain。LouisettehadlookedherdaintylittledressoverandovertobesurethattherewasnotaflawtobefoundwhereinSylves’couldcompareherunfavourablytothestylishChicagogirls。
Thetrainrumbledinontheplatform，andtwopairofeyesopenedwideforthefirstglimpseofSylves’。Theporter，allofficiousnessandbrassbuttons，bustleduptoMa’amMouton。
\"ThisisMrs。Mouton？\"heinquireddeferentially。
Ma’amMoutonnodded，herheartsinking。\"WhereisSylves’？\"
\"Heishere，madam。\"
ThereappearedJosephLascaud，thensomemenbearingSomething。
Louisetteputherhandsuptohereyestohidethesight，butMa’amMoutonwasrigid。
\"Itwastoocoldforhim，\"Josephwassayingtoalmostdeafears，\"andhetooktheconsumption。Hethoughthecouldgetwellwhenhecomehome。Hetalkallthewaydownaboutthebayou，andaboutyouandLouisette。Justthreehoursagohehadabadhemorrhage，andhediedfromweakness。Justthreehoursago。HesaidhewantedtogethomeandgiveLouisetteherdiamondring，whenthebayouoverflowed。\"
MR。BAPTISTE
Hemighthavehadanothername；weneverknew。SomeonehadchristenedhimMr。Baptistelongagointhedimpast，anditsufficed。Noonehadeverbeenknownwhohadthetemeritytoaskhimforanothercognomen，forthoughhewasamild—manneredlittleman，hehadanuncomfortablewayofshuttingupoyster—wiseandlookingdisagreeablewhenapproachedconcerninghispersonalhistory。
Hewassmall：mostCreolemenaresmallwhentheyareold。Itisstrange，butafact。Itmustbethatagewithersthemsoonerandmoreeffectuallythanthoseofun—Latinisedextraction。Mr。
Baptistewas，furthermore，verymuchwrinkledandlame。LiketheSonofMan，hehadnowheretolayhishead，savewhensomekindlyfamilymaderoomforhiminagarretorabarn。Hesubsistedbydoingoddjobs，white—washing，cleaningyards，doingerrands，andthelike。
Thelittleoldmanwasafrequenterofthelevee。Neveradaypassedthathisquaintlittlefigurewasnotseenmovingupanddownabouttheships。ChieflydidhehaunttheTexasandPacificwarehousesandthelanding—placeoftheMorgan—linesteamships。
Thisseemedlikemadness，forthesespotsarealmostthebusiestonthelevee，andtheroughseamenand’longshoremenhaveleasttimetobebotheredwithsmallweakfolks。StilltherewasmethodinthemadnessofMr。Baptiste。TheMorgansteamships，aseveryoneknows，plybetweenNewOrleansandCentralandSouthAmericanports，doingthemajorpartofthefruittrade；andmanywerethebasketsofforgottenfruitthatMr。Baptistetookawaywithhimunmolested。Sometimes，youknow，bananasandmangoesandorangesandcitronswillhalfspoil，particularlyifithasbeenabadvoyageoverthestormyGulf，andtheofficersoftheshipswillgiveawaystacksoffruit，toogoodtogointotheriver，toobadtoselltothefruit—dealers。
YoucouldseeMr。Baptistetrudgingupthestreetwithhisquaintone—sidedwalk，bearinghisdilapidatedbasketononeshoulder，anondescripthead—coverpulledoverhiseyes，whistlingcheerily。
Thenhewouldslipinatthebackdoorofoneofhisclientswithabrisk，——
\"Ah，bonjour，madame。Nowhereeesjus’alil’bitfruit，somebananas。PerhapsmadamewouldcooksomeforMr。Baptiste？\"
Andmadame，whounderstoodandknewhisways，wouldfryhimsomeofthebananas，andsetitbeforehim，atemptingdish，withabitofmadame’sbreadandmeatandcoffeethrowninforlagniappe；andMr。Baptistewoulddepart，filledandcontented，leavingtheloadoffruitbehindasmadame’spay。Thusdidheeat，andhisclientsweremany，andnevertootiredortoocrosstocookhismealsandgettheirpayinbasketsoffruit。
OnedayheslippedinatMadameGarcia’skitchendoorwithsuchawoe—begoneair，andslidasmallsackofnearlyripeplantainsonthetablewithsuchamisery—ladensigh，thatmadame，whowasfatandexcitable，threwupbothhandsandcriedout：
\"MonDieu，MistareBaptiste，fo’w’yyoulooklakdat？Whateesdemattare？\"
Foranswer，Mr。Baptisteshookhisheadgloomilyandsighedagain。MadameGarciamovedheavilyaboutthekitchen，puttingtheplantainsinacoolspotandpunctuatingherfoot—stepswithsundry\"MonDieux\"and\"Miseres。\"
\"Dosecotton!\"ejaculatedMr。Baptiste，atlast。
\"Ah，monDieu!\"groanedMadameGarcia，rollinghereyesheavenwards。
\"Hitwilldrivedefruitaway!\"hecontinued。
\"Misere!\"saidMadameGarcia\"Hitwill。\"
\"Oui，out，\"saidMadameGarcia。Shehadcarefullyinspectedtheplantains，andseeingthattheyweregoodandwholesome，wasinclinedtoagreewithanythingMr。Baptistesaid。
Hegrewexcited。\"Yaas，dosecotton—yardmans，dose’longsho’mans，deygooutononestrik’。Deyt’rowdowndeytoolan’saydeyworknomo’widniggers。Lesveseaux，deylayinderiver，nowork，nocargo，yaas。Dendefruitship，deycan’mak’
lan’，demans，deyt’reatenan’sayt’ings。Deymak’bigfight，yaas。Derenomo’workondelevee，lakdat。Ever’bodyjus’
walkroun’an’saycussword，yaas!\"
\"Oh，monDieu，monDieu!\"groanedMadameGarcia，rockingherguinea—blue—cladselftoandfro。
Mr。Baptistepickeduphisnondescripthead—coverandwalkedoutthroughthebrick—reddenedalley，talkingexcitedlytohimself。
MadameGarciacalledafterhimtoknowifhedidnotwanthisluncheon，butheshookhisheadandpassedon。
DownontheleveeitwasevenasMr。Baptistehadsaid。The’long—shoremen，thecotton—yardmen，andthestevedoreshadgoneoutonastrike。Theleveelayhotandunshelteredundertheglareofanoondaysun。TheturgidMississippiscarceseemedtoflow，butgaveforthabrazengleamfromitsyellowbosom。Greatvesselslayagainstthewharf，silentandunpopulated。Excitedgroupsofmenclusteredhereandthereamongbalesofuncompressedcotton，lyingaboutindisorderlyprofusion。
Cargoesofmolassesandsugargaveoutastickysweetsmell，andnowandthenthefierceraysofthesunwouldkindletinyblazesinthecottonandsplinter—mixeddustunderfoot。
Mr。Baptistewanderedinandoutamongthegroupsofmen，exchangingafriendlysalutationhereandthere。Helookedthepictureofwoe—begonemisery。
\"Hello，Mr。Baptiste，\"criedabig，brawnyIrishman，\"surean’
youlook，asifyouwasabouttobehanged。\"
\"Ah，monDieu，\"saidMr。Baptiste，\"dosefruitshipberuinedfo’
deesstrik’。\"
\"Damnthefruit!\"cheerilyrepliedtheIrishman，artisticallydisposingofamouthfuloftobaccojuice。\"Itain’tthefruitwecareabout，it’sthecotton。\"
\"Hear!hear!\"criedadozenlustycomrades。
Mr。Baptisteshookhisheadandmovedsorrowfullyaway。
\"Hey，byhowlySt。Patrick，here’sthatlittlefruit—eater!\"
calledthecentreofanothergroupofstrikersperchedoncotton—bales。
\"Hello!Where——\"beganasecond；buttheleadersuddenlyhelduphishandforsilence，andthemenlistenedeagerly。
Itmightnothavebeenasound，fortheleveelayquietandthemulesonthecotton—draysdozedlanguidly，theirearspitchedatvaryingacuteangles。Butthepracticedearsofthemenheardafamiliarsoundstealingupovertheheatedstillness。
\"Oh——ho——ho——humph——humph——humph——ho——ho——ho——oh——o——o——humph!\"
Thenthefaintrattleofchains，andthesteadythumpofamachinepounding。
Ifeveryougoontheleveeyou’llknowthatsound，therhythmicsongofthestevedoresheavingcotton—bales，andthesteadythump，thump，ofthemachinecompressingthemwithintheholdoftheship。
Finnegan，theleader，whohadhelduphishandforsilence，utteredanoath。
\"Scabs!Men，comeon!\"
Therewasnoneedforafurtherinvitation。Themenroseinsullenwrathandwentdownthelevee，thecrowdgatheringinnumbersasitpassedalong。Mr。Baptistefollowedinitswake，nowandthensighingamournfulprotestwhichwaslostintheroarofthemen。
\"Scabs!\"Finneganhadsaid；andthewordwaspassedalong，untilitseemedthatthehalfofthesecondDistrictknewandhadrisentoinvestigate。
\"Oh——ho——ho——humph——humph——humph——oh——ho——ho——oh——o——o——humph!\"
Therhythmicchorussoundednearer，andthecausemanifesteditselfwhenthecurveoftheleveeabovetheFrenchMarketwaspassed。ThereroseaWhiteStarsteamer，insolentlysettlingitselftothewateraseachconsignmentofcottonbaleswascompressedintoherhold。
\"Niggers!\"roaredFinneganwrathily。
\"Niggers!niggers!Kill’em，scabs!\"chorusedthecrowd。
Withmusclesstandingoutlikecablesthroughtheirbluecottonshirts，andsweatrollingfromglossyblackskins，theNegrostevedoreswereatworksteadilylabouringatthecotton，withtherhythmicsongswingingitscadenceinthehotair。Theroarofthecrowdcausedthementolookupwithmomentaryapprehension，butattheover—seer’sreassuringwordtheybentbacktowork。
FinneganwasaTitan。WithlividfaceandburstingveinsheranintothestreetfacingtheFrenchMarket，anduprootedahugeblockofpavingstone。Staggeringunderitsweight，herushedbacktotheship，andwithonemightyefforthurleditintothehold。
Thedelicatepolesofthecostlymachinetotteredintheair，thenfellforwardwithacrashasthewholeironframeworkintheholdcollapsed。
\"Damnye，\"shoutedFinnegan，\"nowyezcanpackyercotton!\"
Thecrowd’scheersatthischangedtohowls，astheNegroes，infuriatedattheirloss，forthosecostlymachinesbelongtothelabourersandnottotheship—owners，turneduponthemobandbegantothrowbrickbats，piecesofiron，chunksofwood，anythingthatcametohand。Itwaspandemoniumturnedlooseoveraturgidstream，withamalarialsuntoheatthepassionstofeverpoint。
Mr。Baptistehadtakenrefugebehindabread—stallontheoutsideofthemarket。Hehadtakenoffhiscap，andwasweaklycheeringtheNegroeson。
\"Bravo!\"cheeredMr。Baptiste。
\"Willyezlookatthatdamnedfruit—eatin’Frinchman!\"howledMcMahon。\"Cheerin’theniggers，areyou？\"andheletflyabrickbatinthedirectionofthebread—stall。
\"Oh，monDieu，monDieu!\"wailedthebread—woman。
Mr。Baptistelayverystill，withagreatuglygashinhiswrinkledbrowntemple。Fishmenandvegetablemarchandsgatheredaroundhiminaquick，sympatheticmass。Theindividual，theconcretebitofhelplesshumanity，hadmoreinterestforthemthanthevast，vaguefightingmobbeyond。
Thenoon—hourpealedfromthebrazenthroatsofmanybells，andthenumeroushoarsewhistlesofthesteam—boatscalledtheunheededluncheon—timetotheleveeworkers。Thewarwagedfuriously，andgroansofthewoundedmingledwithcursesandroarsfromthecombatants。
\"Killedinstantly，\"saidthesurgeon，carefullyliftingMr。
Baptisteintotheambulance。
Tramp，tramp，tramp，soundedthemilitiasteadilymarchingdownDecaturStreet。
\"Whist!doyezhear!\"shoutedFinnegan；andtheconflicthadceasederetheyellowrivercouldreflectthesunfromthepolishedbayonets。
Youremember，ofcourse，howlongthestrikelasted，andhowmanybattleswerefoughtandliveslostbeforethefinaladjustmentofaffairs。Itwasafearsomewar，andmanyforgotafterwardswhosewasthefirstlifelostinthestruggle，——poorlittleMr。
Baptiste’s，whosebodylayattheMorgueunclaimedfordaysbeforeitwasfinallydroppedunnamedintoPotter’sField。
ACARNIVALJANGLE
Thereisamerryjangleofbellsintheair，anall—pervadingsenseofjester’snoise，andtheflauntingvividnessofroyalcolours。Thestreetsswarmwithhumanity，——humanityinallshapes，manners，forms，laughing，pushing，jostling，crowding，amassofmenandwomenandchildren，asvariedandassortedintheirseveralindividualpeculiaritiesaseveracrowdthatgatheredinonelocalitysincethedaysofBabel。
ItisCarnivalinNewOrleans；abrilliantTuesdayinFebruary，whentheveryairgivesforthanozoneintenselyexhilarating，makingonelongtocutcapers。Thebuildingsareablazingmassofroyalpurpleandgoldenyellow，nationalflags，bunting，anddecorationsthatlaughintheglintoftheMidassun。Thestreetsareacrushofjestersandmaskers，JimCrowsandclowns，balletgirlsandMephistos，Indiansandmonkeys；ofwildandsuddenflashesofmusic，ofglitteringpageantsandcomicones，ofbefeatheredandbelledhorses；adreamofcolourandmelodyandfantasygonewildinaneffervescentbubbleofbeautythatshiftsandchangesandpasseskaleidoscope—likebeforethebewilderedeye。
Abevyofbright—eyedgirlsandboysofthatuncertainagethathoversbetweenchildhoodandmaturity，weremovingdownCanalStreetwhentherewasasuddenjostlewithanothercrowdmeetingthem。Foraminutetherewasadeafeningclamourofshoutsandlaughter，crackingofthewhips，whichallmaskerscarry，ajingleandclatterofcarnivalbells，andthemaskedandunmaskedextricatedthemselvesandmovedfromeachother’spaths。ButintheconfusionatallPrinceofDarknesshadwhisperedtooneofthegirlsintheunmaskedcrowd：\"You’dbettercomewithus，Flo；
you’rewastingtimeinthattamegang。Slipoff，they’llnevermissyou；we’llgetyouarig，andshowyouwhatlifeis。\"
Andsoithappened，whenahalf—hourpassed，andthebright—eyedbevymissedFloandcouldn’tfindher，wiselygivingupthesearchatlast，she，thequietestandmostbashfulofthelot，wasbeinginitiatedintothemysteriesof\"whatlifeis。\"
DownBourbonStreetandonToulouseandSt。PeterStreetstherearequaintlittleold—worldplaceswhereonemaybedisguisedeffectuallyforatinyconsideration。Thither，guidedbytheshapelyMephistoandguardedbytheteamofjockeysandballetgirls，trippedFlo。Intooneofthelowest—ceiled，dingiest，andmostancient—lookingoftheseshopstheystepped。
\"Adisguiseforthedemoiselle，\"announcedMephistotothewomanwhometthem。Shewassmallandwizenedandold，withyellow，flabbyjaws，anecklikethethroatofanalligator，andstraight，whitehairthatstoodfromherheaduncannilystiff。
\"Butthedemoisellewishestoappearaboy，unpetitgarcon？\"sheinquired，gazingeagerlyatFlo’slong，slenderframe。Hervoicewasoldandthin，likethehighquaveringofanimperfecttuning—fork，andhereyesweresharpastalonsintheirgraspingglance。
\"Mademoiselledoesnotwishsuchacostume，\"grufflyrespondedMephisto。
\"Mafoi，thereisnoother，\"saidtheancient，shrugginghershoulders。\"Butoneisleftnow；mademoisellewouldmakeafinetroubadour。\"
\"Flo，\"saidMephisto，\"it’sadare—devilscheme，tryit；noonewilleverknowitbutus，andwe’lldiebeforewetell。Besides，wemust；it’slate，andyoucouldn’tfindyourcrowd。\"
AndthatwaswhyyoumighthaveseenaMephistoandaslendertroubadouroflovelyform，withmandolinflungacrosshisshoulder，followedbyabevyofjockeysandballetgirls，laughingandsingingastheysweptdownRampartStreet。
WhentheflashandglareandbrilliancyofCanalStreethavepalleduponthetiredeye，whenitisyettoosoontogohometosuchaprosaicthingasdinner，andonestillwishesfornovelty，thenitiswisetogointothelowerdistricts。Thereisfantasyandfancyandgrotesquenessrunwildinthecostumingandthebehaviourofthemaskers。SuchdancesandwhoopsandleapsasthesehideousIndiansanddevilsdoindulgein；suchwildcurvetingsandlongwalks!Intheopensquares，wherewholegroupsdocongregate，itiswonderfullyamusing。Then，too，thereisaballineveryavailablehall，adeliriousball，whereonemaydancealldayfortencents；danceandgrowmadforjoy，andneverknowwhowereyourcompanions，andbeyourselfunknown。
Andintheexhilarationoftheday，onewalksmilesandmiles，anddancesandskips，andthefatigueisneverfelt。
InWashingtonSquare，awaydownwhereRoyalStreetemptiesitsstreamofchildrengreatandsmallintothebroadchannelofElysianFieldsAvenue，therewasaperfectIndianpow—wow。Withalittleimaginationonemighthavewilledawaythevisionofthesurroundinghouses，andfanciedone’sselfagainintheforest，wherethenativeswereholdingasacredriot。Thesquarewasfilledwithspectators，maskedandun—masked。ItwasamusingtowatchthesemimicRed—men，theyseemedsofierceandearnest。
Suddenlyonechieftouchedanotherontheelbow。\"SeethatMephistoandtroubadouroverthere？\"hewhisperedhuskily。
\"Yes；whoarethey？\"
\"Idon’tknowthedevil，\"respondedtheother，quietly，\"butI’dknowthatotherformanywhere。It’sLeon，see？Iknowthosewhitehandslikeawoman’sandthatrestlesshead。Ha!\"
\"Buttheremaybeamistake。\"
\"No。I’dknowthatoneanywhere；Ifeelitishe。I’llpayhimnow。Ah，sweetheart，you’vewaitedlong，butyoushallfeastnow!\"Hewascaressingsomethinglongandlitheandglitteringbeneathhisblanket。
Inamaskeddanceitiseasytogiveadeath—blowbetweentheshoulders。Twocrowdsmeetandlaughandshoutandminglealmostinextricably，andifashriekofpainshouldarise，itisnotnoticedinthedin，andwhentheypart，ifoneshouldstaggerandfallbleedingtotheground，cananyonetellwhohasgiventheblow？Thereisnothingbutanunknownstilettoontheground，thecrowdhasdispersed，andmaskstellnotalesanyway。Thereismurder，butbywhom？forwhat？Quiensabe？
AndthatishowithappenedonCarnivalnight，inthelastmadmomentsofRex’sreign，abroken—heartedmothersatgazingwide—eyedandmuteatahorriblesomethingthatlayacrossthebed。Outsidethelongsweetmarchmusicofmanybandsfloatedinasifinmockery，andtheflashofrocketsandBengallightsilluminedthedead，whitefaceofthegirltroubadour。
LITTLEMISSSOPHIE
WhenMissSophieknewconsciousnessagain，thelong，faint，swellingnotesoftheorganweredyingawayindistantechoesthroughthegreatarchesofthesilentchurch，andshewasalone，crouchinginalittle，forsakenblackheapatthealtaroftheVirgin。Thetwinklingtapersshonepityinglyuponher，thebeneficentsmileofthewhite—robedMadonnaseemedtowhispercomfort。Alonggustofchillairsweptuptheaisles，andMissSophieshiverednotfromcold，butfromnervousness。
Butdarknesswasfalling，andsoonthelightswouldbelowered，andthegreatmassivedoorswouldbeclosed；so，gatheringherthinlittlecapeaboutherfrailshoulders，MissSophiehurriedout，andalongthebrilliantnoisystreetshome。
Itwasawretched，lonelylittleroom，wherethecrackslettheboisterouswindwhistlethrough，andthesmoky，grimywallslookedcheerlessandunhomelike。AmiserablelittleroominamiserablelittlecottageinoneofthesqualidstreetsoftheThirdDistrictthatnatureandthecityfathersseemedtohaveforgotten。
AsbareandcomfortlessastheroomwasMissSophie’slife。SherentedthesefourwallsfromanunkemptlittleCreolewoman，whoseprogenyseemedlikethepromisedoffspringofAbraham。Shescarcelykepttheflickeringlifeinherpalelittlebodybytheunceasingtoilofapairofbonyhands，stitching，stitching，ceaselessly，wearingly，onthebandsandpocketsoftrousers。Itwasherbread，thismonotonous，unendingwork；andthoughwholedaysandnightsconstantlabourbroughtbutthemostmeagrerecompense，itwasheronlyhopeoflife。
Shesatbeforethelittlecharcoalbrazierandwarmedhertransparent，needle—prickedfingers，thinkingmeanwhileofthestrangeeventsoftheday。Shehadbeenuptowntocarrythegreat，blackbundleofcoarsepantsandveststothefactoryandtoreceivehersmallpittance，andonthewayhomestoppedinattheJesuitChurchtosayherlittleprayeratthealtarofthecalmwhiteVirgin。Therehadbeenawondrousburstofmusicfromthegreatorganasshekneltthere，anoverpoweringperfumeofmanyflowers，theglitteringdazzleofmanylights，andthedaintyfrou—froumadebythesilkenskirtsofweddingguests。SoMissSophiestayedtothewedding；forwhatfeminineheart，beiteversooldandseared，doesnotdelightinone？AndwhyshouldnotapoorlittleCreoleoldmaidbeinterestedtoo？
Thentheweddingpartyhadfiledinsolemnly，totherolling，swellingtonesoftheorgan。Important—lookinggroomsmen；
dainty，fluffy，white—robedmaids；stately，satin—robed，illusion—veiledbride，andhappygroom。Sheleanedforwardtocatchabetterglimpseoftheirfaces。\"Ah!\"——
ThoseneartheVirgin’saltarwhoheardafaintsighandrustleonthestepsglancedcuriouslyastheysawaslightblack—robedfigureclutchtherailingandleanherheadagainstit。MissSophiehadfainted。
\"Imusthavebeenhungry，\"shemusedoverthecharcoalfireinherlittleroom，\"Imusthavebeenhungry；\"andshesmiledawansmile，andbusiedherselfgettinghereveningmealofcoffeeandbreadandham。
Ifoneweregiventopity，thefirstthoughtthatwouldrushtoone’slipsatsightofMissSophiewouldhavebeen，\"Poorlittlewoman!\"Shehadcomeamongthebarenessandsordidnessofthisneighbourhoodfiveyearsago，robedincrape，andcryingwithgreatsobsthatseemedtoshakethevitalityoutofher。
Perfectlysilent，too，shewasaboutherformerlife；butforallthat，Michel，thequarteegroceratthecorner，andMadameLaurent，whokepttherabbeshopopposite，hadfixeditallupbetweenthem，ofhersadhistoryandpastglories。Notthattheyknew；butthenMichelmustinventsomethingwhentheneighbourscametohimastheirfountain—headofwisdom。
OnemorninglittleMissSophieopenedwideherdingywindowstocatchtheearlyfreshnessoftheautumnwindasitwhistledthroughtheyellow—leafedtrees。Itwasoneofthosecalm，blue—misted，balmy，NovemberdaysthatNewOrleanscanhavewhenalltherestofthecountryisfur—wrapped。MissSophiepulledhermachinetothewindow，wherethesweet，dampwindcouldwhiskamongherblacklocks。
Whirr，whirr，wentthemachine，tickingfastandlightlyoverthebeltsoftheroughjeanspants。Whirr，whirr，yes，andMissSophiewasactuallyhummingatune!Shefeltstrangelylightto—day。
\"Mafoi，\"mutteredMichel，strollingacrossthestreettowhereMadameLaurentsatsewingbehindthecounteronblueandbrown—checkedaprons，\"butthelittlema’amsellesings。Perhapssherecollects。\"
\"Perhaps，\"mutteredtherabbewoman。
ButlittleMissSophiefeltrestless。Astrangeimpulseseemeddrawingheruptown，andthemachineseemedtorunslow，slow，beforeitwouldstitchalloftheendlessnumberofjeansbelts。
Herfingerstrembledwithnervoushasteasshepinneduptheunwieldyblackbundleoffinishedwork，andherfeetfairlytrippedovereachotherintheireagernesstogettoClaiborneStreet，whereshecouldboardtheup—towncar。Therewasafeverishdesiretogosomewhere，asenseofelation，afoolishhappinessthatbroughtafaintechoofcolourintoherpinchedcheeks。Shewonderedwhy。
Noonenoticedherinthecar。PassengersontheClaibornelinearetoomuchaccustomedtofraillittleblack—robedwomenwithbig，blackbundles；itisoneofthecity’smostpitifulsights。
SheleanedherheadoutofthewindowtocatchaglimpseoftheoleandersonBayouRoad，whenherattentionwascaughtbyaconversationinthecar。
\"Yes，it’stoobadforNeale，andlatelymarriedtoo，\"saidtheelderman。\"Ican’tseewhatheistodo。\"
Neale!Sheprickedupherears。ThatwasthenameofthegroomintheJesuitChurch。
\"Howdidithappen？\"languidlyinquiredtheyounger。Hewasastranger，evidently；astrangerwithahighregardforthefaultlessnessofmaleattire。
\"Well，thefirmfailedfirst；hedidn’tmindthatmuch，hewassosureofhisuncle’sinheritancerepairinghislostfortunes；butsuddenlythisdifficultyofidentificationspringsup，andheisliterallyonthevergeofruin。\"
\"Won’tsomeofyoufellowswho’veknownhimallyourlivesdotoidentifyhim？\"
\"Graciousman，we’vetried；buttheabsurdoldwillexpresslystipulatesthatheshallbeknownonlybyacertainquaintRomanring，andunlesshehasit，noidentification，nofortune。Hehasgiventheringaway，andthatsettlesit。\"
\"Well，you’reallchumps。Whydoesn’thegettheringfromtheowner？\"
\"Easilysaid；but——itseemsthatNealehadsomelittleCreolelove—affairsomeyearsago，andgavethisringtohisdusky—eyedfiancee。YouknowhowNealeiswithhislove—affairs，wentoffandforgotthegirlinamonth。Itseems，however，shetookittoheart，——somuchsothathe’sashamedtotrytofindherorthering。\"
MissSophieheardnomoreasshegazedoutintothedustygrass。
Thereweretearsinhereyes，hotblindingonesthatwouldn’tdropforpride，butstayedandscalded。Sheknewthestory，withallitsembellishmentofheartaches。Sheknewthering，too。
Sherememberedthedayshehadkissedandweptandfondledit，untilitseemedherheartmustburstunderitsloadofgriefbeforeshetookittothepawn—broker’sthatanothermightbeeasedbeforetheendcame，——thatotherherfather。Thelittle\"Creoleloveaffair\"ofNeale’shadnotalwaysbeenpoorandoldandjaded—looking；butreversesmustcome，evenNealeknewthat，sotheringwasattheMontdePiete。Stillhemusthaveit，itwashis；itwouldsavehimfromdisgraceandsufferingandfrombringingthewhite—gownedbrideintosorrow。Hemusthaveit；
buthow？
Thereitwasstillatthepawn—broker’s；noonewouldhavesuchanoddjewel，andtheticketwashomeinthebureaudrawer。
Well，hemusthaveit；shemightstarveintheattempt。Suchathingasgoingtohimandtellinghimthathemightredeemitwasanimpossibility。Thatgood，straight—backed，stiff—neckedCreolebloodwouldhaveriseninallitsstrengthandchokedher。
No；asapresenthadthequaintRomancircletbeenplaceduponherfinger，asapresentshoulditbereturned。
Thebumpingcarrodeslowly，andthehotthoughtsbeatheavilyinherpoorlittlehead。Hemusthavethering；buthow——thering——theRomanring——thewhite—robedbridestarving——shewasgoingmad——ahyes——thechurch。
Thereitwas，rightinthebusiest，mostbustlingpartofthetown，itsfrescoandbronzeandironquaintlysuggestiveofmediaevaltimes。Within，allwascoolanddimandrestful，withthefaintestwhiffoflingeringincenserisingandpervadingthegrayarches。Yes，theVirginwouldknowandhavepity；thesweet，white—robedVirginattheprettyflower—deckedaltar，ortheoneawayupintheniche，farabovethegoldendomewheretheHostwas。Titiche，thebusybodyofthehouse，noticedthatMissSophie’sbundlewaslargerthanusualthatafternoon。\"Ah，poorwoman!\"sighedTitiche’smother，\"shewouldberichforChristmas。\"
Thebundlegrewlargereachday，andMissSophiegrewsmaller。
Thedamp，coldrainandmistclosedthewhite—curtainedwindow，butalwaystherebehindthesewing—machinedroopedandbobbedthelittleblack—robedfigure。Whirr，whirrwentthewheels，andthecoarsejeanspantspiledingreatheapsatherside。TheClaiborneStreetcarsawheroftenerthanbefore，andthesweetwhiteVirginintheflowerednicheabovethegold—domedaltarsmiledatthelittlesupplicantalmosteveryday。