The sentry came forward,
brought his musket to a salute, and halted before my horse.
"You will have to show your passport," murmured Madame la Vicomtesse.
I drew the document from my pocket. It was signed by De Lemos, and duly
countersigned by the officer of the port. The man bowed, and I passed
on.
It was a strange, silent ride through the stinging heat to Les Iles, the
brown dust hanging behind us like a cloud, to settle slowly on the
wayside shrubbery. Across the levee bank the river was low, listless,
giving off hot breath like a monster in distress. The forest pools were
cracked and dry, the Spanish moss was a haggard gray, and under the sun
was the haze which covered the land like a saffron mantle. At times a
listlessness came over me such as I had never known, to make me forget
the presence of the women at my side, the very errand on which we rode.
From time to time I was roused into admiration of the horsemanship of
Madame la Vicomtesse, for the restive Texas pony which she rode was stung
to madness by the flies. As for Antoinette, she glanced neither right
nor left through her veil, but rode unmindful of the way, heedless of
heat and discomfort, erect, motionless save for the easy gait of her
horse. At length we turned into the avenue through the forest, lined by
wild orange trees, came in sight of the low, belvedered plantation house,
and drew rein at the foot of the steps.
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