“Leonard will not come with father. He will never come again, I know! I know!”
[Illustration: “HE AND ST. ANGE KEPT GILSON’S BOAT IN SIGHT UNTIL THEY LANDED.”]
“If he does not, his behaviour will be cruel and dishonourable. Why did he not tell you about the duel!”
“He could not--I did not give him a moment’s opportunity. It was my fault--all my fault. I was so angry at what Annette told me that I met him in a passion, and before he had time to tell me why he had stayed away and what had occurred I shocked him with Annette’s false charges, one upon the other, without any pause, until I told him that Annette was going to shut her door against him. Then he asked me if we also intended to shut our door against him, and mother, I have no excuse--there is no excuse for me, none! I ought to suffer. Oh, how miserable I am! And, mother, mother, I have made my own misery.”
“You go too far, Sappha. You make too much of a few words. All lovers have quarrels, and in my opinion Leonard cannot come back too soon.”
“He will not come. He was too quiet. He said too little. He will never come back. Always, we have slighted him a little.”
“He has been very well received--do not make excuses for him on that ground. I wish Annette would keep her tongue out of our affairs. She is nothing but a mischief maker.”
“I know, but Annette could not have harmed me if I had been true to Leonard. To be ready to doubt him, only on Annette’s word, was a shameful wrong, and I deserve to be forsaken and forgotten.”
“It is Leonard’s fault more than yours. He ought to have stopped that man’s tongue at once. Any woman would have become suspicious and irritable. It was a shame for Leonard to put your love for him to such a trial. He will see that as soon as he gets over the little slight. Now dress yourself, dear, and come downstairs. What is the use of nursing sorrow in a darkened room? Sunshine makes grief more bearable. I do believe that Leonard will return with your father.”
“I will come down--but Leonard will not return with father.”
“You are very provoking, Sapphira. And I can tell you one thing, they that are determined to be miserable will always find the wherewithal for misery. Try and hope for the best,” and she kissed her and added, “Put on a fresh white frock, you look best in white.”
So Sappha did as she was counselled, but her bravery did not help her to bear her sorrow--a sorrow made worse by its uncertainty in all respects. If Leonard had only granted her a little time, if he had been patient enough to tell her of the morning’s events, if he had not given that rose of renunciation! Yes, that act of his was the real provocative of her desertion. He had told her to forget him. What could he expect but a prompt acceptance of his request? It would have been impossible at that stage to have hesitated. He had broken their betrothal, not her; how then could she hope he would make any effort to renew it?
She did not hope for it, though she obeyed her mother’s desire, and with an aching heart dressed herself in white and went downstairs. About five o’clock she heard her father’s steps, and he was not alone. But the double footsteps did not give her a moment’s hope. She knew they were not Leonard’s, and in a few moments she saw that St. Ange was her father’s companion. They were talking in tones of earnest gratification, and as soon as the ordinary greetings were over resumed their conversation.
The subject was, of course, the duel and the sympathetic response it had evoked in Leonard’s favour. Gilson’s effort to escape to Boston, his bullying language when detected, the decided white feather he had shown on the field, his cowardice under pain since he had received his punishment, were now the topics of public conversation; and the men who had been foremost in doubting Leonard Murray were now the warmest in his praise. All these things St. Ange described in his usual sparkling detail, and the judge, Mrs. Bloommaert, and Sappha listened to him with the keenest interest.
Suddenly Judge Bloommaert said: “I never heard before of a man disabling his antagonist just in that way. I wonder how Leonard learned the stroke.”
“One of Robespierre’s emigrants taught it to Leonard. He was a noble of the highest lineage, but when driven to America he embraced the simple life of the wilderness with inconceivable ardour. Leonard met him in the exploring party which he accompanied to the Mississippi, and together they went down the river to New Orleans. Their tedious voyage was relieved with sword play, and under this French noble’s tuition Leonard became an incomparable fencer. With this same stroke he disarmed Señor Zavala in New Orleans.”
“Ah! Then Murray has fought before?”
“Yes. The duel between Señor Zavala and Mr. Murray is well remembered in New Orleans.”
“Suppose, then, you tell us about it,” said Mrs. Bloommaert.
“I was not acquainted with Leonard at the time, but Mr. Livingston told me of the circumstance. The Americans in New Orleans are proud of it.”
“Why have you never named it before, then?” asked the judge.
“Leonard desired me not to speak of it because he said there was a feeling against the duel in New York, and that you, judge, whose good opinion he specially desired, were opposed to the custom. I think, indeed, that Leonard’s reluctance to notice Gilson’s slanders arose from a fear of offending you.”
“Well, St. Ange, as a general thing I do not approve of the duel; but there are exceptions to every rule, and the exceptions must be condoned. They need not, however, be repeated.”
“We are more anxious to hear about Leonard’s New Orleans affair than to discuss the right or wrong of duelling,” said Mrs. Bloommaert. And St. Ange smilingly continued:
“The occasion for it lay backward some years, even to that twentieth of December, A. D., 1801, when the tri-coloured flag of the French republic was displayed at sunrise in New Orleans for the last time. For at noon that day Governor Claiborne and General Wilkinson, at the head of the American forces, entered New Orleans, and the French Commissioner Laussant gave up the keys of the City Hall to them. Amid tears and profound silence the French flag was hauled down, and the Stars and Stripes took its place.
“There were about one hundred and fifty Americans in the city at that time, and they stood together on the corner of the Place d’Arms and cheered it. But no one else showed any approval. The French and Spanish inhabitants could not reconcile themselves to the change; prejudices amounting to superstition made them for a long time attribute everything unpleasant to the American occupation. This bias was carried so far that when, on one occasion, a public ball was interrupted by an earthquake the anger of an old Creole gentleman was roused, and he said passionately, ‘It was not in the Spanish or the French times that the amusements of the ladies were interfered with.’
“However, as soon as the cession was complete, northern immigration poured into New Orleans, and when the present war was proclaimed there was no lack of enthusiasm for its prosecution. Still some of the old antagonism remained, and one morning as Leonard was in the Place d’Arms he saw some members of a volunteer regiment deploy there. A boyish American carried the flag in front of them, and Señor Zavala as he passed made a very offensive and contemptuous remark. Leonard stepped out and asked if he intended that remark for the American flag. Zavala answered, ‘It is most welcome to it, Señor.’ Leonard challenged him there and then. As Zavala was something of a bravo, he looked amused, and, when he saw that Leonard was in earnest, annoyed. For he did not like to fight such a youth; he had the same scruple that influenced Leonard in fighting Gilson; he considered himself so superior in skill to his challenger that an acceptance was very like cruelty, if not also cowardice.
“But Leonard would not retreat, and Zavala declined to make any apology, and the duel took place. A great interest was evinced in this affair, though duels were common enough on every subject, and Leonard had especially the watchful sympathy of every American in the city. They were resolved that at least he should have fair play, and that if he had been wounded there were plenty of men ready to take up his quarrel with Zavala. To the amazement of every one Zavala was disarmed in less than five minutes, and in precisely the same manner as Gilson. But his behaviour was very different. He made no outcry, he knew the code too well to touch his antagonist’s sword, and it was with a polite smile he handed his rapier to Leonard and said, ‘Señor, my sword is yours. I make my apology to you and to your flag.’”
“I have nothing to say against that duel,” said the judge, and Mrs. Bloommaert’s face was radiant with sympathy and approval. Sappha’s eyes, heavy with unshed tears, were dropped, and she could not speak. Had she tried her very words would have wept.
“Leonard behaved splendidly,” continued St. Ange. “With his weapon he withdrew all ill feeling, and during Zavala’s convalescence he passed some time with him every day, and supplied him with attentions and luxuries Zavala’s own means could not have procured. The conclusion of this story I heard yesterday. Zavala is now enrolled for the defence of the very flag he insulted. Mr. Livingston had the news in a letter, and he recalled the duel to my memory in order to emphasise the result.