Antoinette was the first to
dismount, and passed in silence through the group of surprised house
servants gathering at the door. I assisted the Vicomtesse, who paused to
bid the negroes disperse, and we lingered for a moment on the gallery
together.
"Poor Antoinette!" she said, "I wish we might have saved her this." She
looked up at me. "How she defended him!" she exclaimed.
"She loves him," I answered.
Madame la Vicomtesse sighed.
"I suppose there is no help for it," she said. "But it is very difficult
not to be angry with Mr. Temple. The girl cared for his mother, gave her
a home, clung to her when he and the world would have cast her off,
sacrificed her happiness for them both. If I see him, I believe I shall
shake him. And if he doesn't fall down on his knees to her, I shall ask
the Baron to hang him. We must bring him to his senses, Mr. Ritchie. He
must not leave Louisiana until he sees her. Then he will marry her."
She paused, scrutinized me in her quick way, and added: "You see that I
take your estimation of his character. You ought to be flattered."
"I am flattered by any confidence you repose in me, Madame la
Vicomtesse."
She laughed. I was not flattered then, but cursed myself for the quaint
awkwardness in my speech that amused her. And she was astonishingly
quick to perceive my moods.
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