Athénaïse reached her destination sound of skin and limb, but a good deal , a little frightened, and altogether excited and interested by her unusual experiences.
Her destination was the house of Sylvie, on Dauphine Street, in New Orleans,—a three-story gray brick, directly on the banquette, with three broad stone steps leading to the deep front entrance. From the second-story balcony swung a small sign, conveying to passers-by 71the intelligence that within were “chambres garnies.”
It was one morning in the last week of April that Athénaïse presented herself at the Dauphine Street house. Sylvie was expecting her, and introduced her at once to her apartment, which was in the second story of the back ell, and accessible by an open, outside gallery. There was a yard below, paved with broad stone flagging; many flowering and plants grew in a bed along the side of the opposite wall, and others were distributed about in tubs and green boxes.
It was a plain but large enough room into which Athénaïse was , with matting on the floor, green shades and Nottingham-lace curtains at the windows that looked out on the gallery, and furnished with a cheap suit. But everything looked clean, and the whole place smelled of cleanliness.
Athénaïse at once fell into the rocking-chair, with the air of and intense relief of one who has come to the end of her troubles. Sylvie, entering behind her, laid the big traveling-bag on the floor and deposited the jacket on the bed.
72She was a portly quadroon of fifty or thereabout, clad in an ample volante of the old-fashioned purple calico so much by her class. She wore large golden hoop-earrings, and her hair was combed plainly, with every appearance of effort to smooth out the kinks. She had broad, coarse features, with a nose that turned up, exposing the wide , and that seemed to emphasize the loftiness and command of her bearing,—a dignity that in the presence of white people assumed a character of respectfulness, but never of . Sylvie believed firmly in maintaining the color-line, and would not suffer a white person, even a child, to call her “Madame Sylvie,”—a title which she exacted religiously, however, from those of her own race.
“I hope you be please’ wid yo’ room, madame,” she observed . “Dat’s de same room w’at yo’ brother, M’sieur Miché, all time like w’en he come to New Orlean’. He well, M’sieur Miché? I receive’ his letter las’ week, an’ dat same day a gent’man want I give ’im dat room. I say, ‘No, dat room already ingage’.’ Ev-body like dat room on ’count it so quite (quiet). M’sieur Gouvernail, dere in nax’ 73room, you can’t pay ’im! He been stay t’ree year’ in dat room; but all fix’ up fine wid his own furn’ture an’ books, ’tel you can’t see! I say to ’im plenty time’, ‘M’sieur Gouvernail, w’y you don’t take dat t’ree-story front, now, long it’s empty?’ He tells me, ‘Leave me ’lone, Sylvie; I know a good room w’en I fine it, me.’”
She had been moving slowly and about the apartment, straightening and smoothing down bed and pillows, peering into and basin, evidently casting an eye around to make sure that everything was as it should be.
“I sen’ you some fresh water, madame,” she offered upon retiring from the room. “An’ w’en you want an’t’ing, you jus’ go out on de gall’ry an’ call Pousette: she year you plain,—she right down dere in de kitchen.”
Athénaïse was really not so as she had every reason to be after that interminable and way by which Montéclin had seen fit to have her conveyed to the city.
Would she ever forget that dark and truly dangerous midnight ride along the “coast” to the mouth of river! There Montéclin 74had parted with her, after seeing her aboard the St. Louis and Shreveport packet which he knew would pass there before dawn. She had received instructions to disembark at the mouth of Red river, and there transfer to the first south-bound steamer for New Orleans; all of which instructions she had followed , even to making her way at once to Sylvie’s upon her arrival in the city. Montéclin had and much caution; the nature of the affair gave it a of adventure which was highly pleasing to him. Eloping with his sister was only a little less engaging than eloping with some one else’s sister.
But Montéclin did not do the grand seigneur by halves. He had paid Sylvie a whole month in advance for Athénaïse’s board and . Part of the sum he had been forced to borrow, it is true, but he was not .
Athénaïse was to take her meals in the house, which none of the other did; the one exception being that Mr. Gouvernail was served with breakfast on Sunday mornings.
75Sylvie’s clientèle came chiefly from the southern parishes; for the most part, people spending but a few days in the city. She prided herself upon the quality and highly respectable character of her patrons, who came and went unobtrusively.
The large opening upon the front balcony was seldom used. Her guests were permitted to entertain in this of elegance,—but they never did. She often rented it for the night to parties of respectable and gentlemen desiring to enjoy a quiet game of cards outside the of their families. The second-story hall also led by a long window out on the balcony. And Sylvie advised Athénaïse, when she grew weary of her back room, to go and sit on the front balcony, which was shady in the afternoon, and where she might find diversion in the sounds and sights of the street below.
Athénaïse refreshed herself with a bath, and was soon her few , which she ranged away in the bureau drawers and the armoire.
She had certain plans in her mind during the past hour or so. Her present intention 76was to live on indefinitely in this big, cool, clean back room on Dauphine street. She had thought seriously, for moments, of the convent, with all readiness to embrace the of poverty and chastity; but what about ? Later, she intended, in some round-*about way, to give her parents and her husband the assurance of her safety and welfare; reserving the right to remain unmolested and lost to them. To live on at the expense of Montéclin’s was wholly out of the question, and Athénaïse meant to look about for some suitable and agreeable employment.
The thing to be done at present, however, was to go out in search of material for an inexpensive gown or two; for she found herself in the painful predicament of a young woman having almost nothing to wear. She upon pure white for one, and some sort of a sprigged muslin for the other.