XLV

The cathedral that year was undergoing repairs.

Its cypress-log foundations, which had kept sound from colonial days in a soil always wet, had begun to decay when a new drainage system began to dry it out. Fact, but also allegory.

It may have been in connection with this work, or with some change in the house of the Discalceated Sisters of Mt. Carmel, or of the archbishop, or of St. Augustine's Church, that a certain priest of exceptional taste, Beloiseau's father confessor, dropped in on him to order an ornamental wrought-iron grille for the upper half of a new door. While looking at patterns he asked:

"And what is the latest word from your son?"

Scipion showed him that picture--he had bought one for himself--the dear old unmistakable back of "Papa Joffre," and the dear young unmistakable faces of the two boys, Beloiseau and De l'Isle.

A talk followed, on the conflict between a father's pride and his yearning to see his only son safely delivered from constant deadly peril. They spoke of Aline. Not for the first time; Scipion, unaware that the good father was her confessor also, had told him before of his son's hopeless love, to ask if it was not right for him, the father, to help Chester win the marvellous girl, since winning would win the two boys home again.

Patterns waited while the ironworker said that to the tender chagrin of all the coterie Chester was refused--a man of such fineness, such promise, mind, charm, and integrity, and so fitted for her in years, temperament, and tastes, that no girl, however perfect, could hope to be courted by more than one such in a lifetime.

In brief Creole prose he struck the highest key of Shakespeare's sonnets: "Was she not doing a grievous wrong to herself and Chester, to the whole coterie that so adored her, especially to the De l'Isles and himself, and even to society at large? Her reasons," he said, shifting to English, "I can guess _at them_, but guessing at 'alf-a-dozen convinze' me of none!"

"Have you guess' at differenze of rilligious faith?" the priest inquired.

"Yes, but--nothing doing; I 'ave to guess no."

"Tha'z a great matter to a good Catholic."

"Ah, father! Or-_din_-arily, yes. Bud this time no. Any'ow, this time tha'z not for us Catholic' to be diztress' ab-out. . . . Ah, yes, chil'ren. But, you know? If daughter', they'll be of the faith and conduc' of the mother; if son', faith of the mother, conduc' of the father; and I think with that even you, pries' of G.o.d, be satizfie', eh?

"My dear frien', you know what I billieve? Me, I billieve in heaven they are _waiting impatiently_ for that marriage."

The priest may have been professionally delinquent, but he chose to leave the argument unrefuted. He smilingly looked at his watch.

"Well," he said, "I choose this design. Make it so. Good evening."

He turned away. Beloiseau called after him, but the man of G.o.d kept straight on.

The ironworker loitered back to where the chosen pattern lay, and stood over it still thinking of Chester. Presently a soft voice sounded so close by that he turned abruptly. At his side was an extremely winsome stranger. His artistic eye instantly remarked not only her well-preserved beauty, but its gentle dignity, rare refinement, and untypical quality. Whether it was Creole or _Americain_, Southern, Northern, or Western, nothing betrayed; on the surface at least, the provincial, as far as the ironworker could see, was wholly bred out of her. He noted also the unimpaired excellence of her erect and girlish slightness and, under her pretty hat and early whitened hair, the carven fineness of her features. Her whole attire pleasantly befitted her years, which might have been anything short of fifty; and yet, if Scipion was right, she might have dressed for thirty.

"Are you Mr. Beloiseau?" she inquired.

"I am," he said.

"Mr. Beloiseau, I'm the mother of Geoffry Chester. You know him, I believe?"

"Oh, is that possible? He is my esteem' frien', madame. Will you"--he began to dust a lone chair.

"No, thank you; I came to find Geoffry's quarters. I left the hotel with my memorandum, but must have dropped it. I remember only Bienville Street."

"He's not there any mo'. Sinze only two day' he's move'. Mrs.

Chezter, if you'll egscuse me till I can change the coat I'll show you those new quarter'. Whiles I'm changing you can look ad that book of pattern', and also--here--there's a pigtorial of New York; that--tha'z of my son and the son of my neighbor up-stair', De l'Isle, ric'iving medal' from General Joffre----"

"Why, Mr. Beloiseau can it be!"

"But you know, Mrs. Chezter, he's not there presently, yo' son. He's gone at St. Martinville, to the court there."

"Yes, to be back to-morrow or next day. They told me in his office this forenoon. I reached the city only at eleven, train late. He didn't know I was coming. My telegram's on his desk unopened. But having time, I thought I'd see whether he's living comfortably or only fancies he is."

On their way Mrs. Chester and her guide hardly spoke until Scipion asked: "Madame, when you was noticing yo' telegram on the desk of yo'

son you di'n' maybe notiz' a letter from New York? We are prettie anxiouz for that to come to yo' son. I do' know if you know about that or no, but M. De l'Isle and madame, and Castanado and his madame, and Dubroca and his madame, and Mme. Alexandre and me, and three Chapdelaine', we are all prettie anxiouz for that letter."

"Yes, I know about it, and there is one, from a New York publishing-house, on Geoffry's desk."

"Well, madame, Marais Street, here's the place. Ah! and street-car--or jitney--pa.s.sing thiz corner will take you ag-ain at yo' hotel."

XLVI

Satisfied with her son's quarters, Mrs. Chester returned to her hotel and had just dined when her telephone rang.

"Mme.--oh, Mme. De l'Isle, I'm so please'----"

The instrument reciprocated the pleasure. "If Mrs. Chezter was not too fat-igue' by travelling, monsieur and madame would like to call."

Soon they appeared and in a moment whose brevity did honor to both sides had established cordial terms. Rising to go, the pair asked a great favor. It made them, they said, "very 'appy to perceive that Mr.

Chezter, by writing, has make his mother well acquaint' with that li'l'

coterie in Royal Street, in which they, sometime', 'ave the honor to be include'." "The honor" meant the modest condescension, and when Mrs.

Chester's charming smile recognized the fact the pair took fresh delight in her. "An' that li'l' coterie, sinze hearing that from Beloiseau juz' this evening, are anxiouz to see you at ones; they are, like ourselve', so fon' of yo' son; and they cannot call all together--my faith, that would be a procession! And bi-side', Mme.

Castanado she--well--you understan' why that is--she never go' h-out.

Same time M. Castanado he's down-stair' waiting----

"Shall I go around there with you? I'll be glad to go." They went.

Through that "recommend'" of Chester, got by Thornd.y.k.e-Smith for the law firm, and by him shown to M. De l'Isle, the coterie knew that the pretty lady whom they welcomed in Castanado's little parlor was of a family line from which had come three State governors, one of whom had been also his State's chief justice. One of her pleasantest impressions as she made herself at ease among them, and they around her and Mme. Castanado, was that they regarded this fact as honoring all while flattering none. She found herself as much, and as kindly, on trial before them as they before her, and saw that behind all their lively conversation on such comparatively light topics as the World War, greater New Orleans, and the decay of the times, the main question was not who, but what, she was. As for them, they proved at least equal to the best her son had ever written of them.

And they found her a confirmation of the best they had ever discerned in her son. In her fair face they saw both his masculine beauty and the excellence of his mind better interpreted than they had seen them in his own countenance. A point most pleasing to them was the palpable fact that she was in her son's confidence. Evidently, though arriving sooner than expected, her coming was due to his initiative. Clearly he had written things that showed a juncture wherein she, if but prompt enough, might render the last great service of her life to his. Oh, how superior to the ordinary American slap-dash of the matrimonial lottery! They felt that they themselves had taken the American way too much for granted. Maybe that was where they were unlike Mlle. Aline.

But she was not there, to perceive these things, nor her aunts, to be seen and estimated. The evening's outcome could be but inconclusive, but it was a happy beginning.

Its most significant part was a brief talk following the mention of the Castanado soldier-boy's engagement. His expected letter had come, bringing many pleasant particulars of it, and the two parents were enjoying a genuine and infectious complacency. "And one thing of the largez' importanze, Mrs. Chezter," madame said with sweet enthusiasm, "--the two they are of the one ril-ligion!"

Was the announcement unlucky, or astute? At any rate it threw the subject wide open by a side door, and Mrs. Chester calmly walked in.

"That's certainly fortunate," she said. Every ear was alert and Beloiseau was suddenly eager to speak, but she smilingly went on: "It's true that, coming of a family of politicians, and being pet daughter--only one--of a judge, I may be a trifle broad on that point.

Still I think you're right and to be congratulated."

The whole coterie felt a glad thrill. "Ah, madame," Beloiseau exclaimed, "you are co'rec'! But, any'ow, in a caze where the two faith' _are_ con-_tra_-ry 'tis not for you Protestant' to be diztres'

ab-out! You, you don' care so much ab-out those myzterie' of bil-ief as about those rule' of conduc'. Almoze, I may say, you run those _rule_' of conduc' into the groun'--and tha'z right! And bis-ide', you 'ave in everything--politic', law, trade, society--so much the upper han'--in the bes' senze--ah, of co'se in the bes' senze!--that the chil'ren of such a case they are pretty sure goin' to be Protestant!"

Mrs. Chester, having her choice, to say either that marriages across differences of faith had peculiar risks, or that Geoffry's uncle, the "Angel of the Lord," had married, happily, a Catholic, chose neither, let the subject be changed, and was able to a.s.sure the company that the missive on Geoffry's desk was no bulky ma.n.u.script, but a neat thin letter under one two-cent stamp.

"Accept'!" they cried, "that beautiful true story of 'The 'Oly Crozz'