A Little Girl in Old St. Louis by Amanda M. Douglas
CHAPTER VII
AT THE KING'S BALL
It was a very gay summer to Renee de Longueville.
Rosalie Pichou protested and grew angry at being superseded.
"She is only an Indian after all," the girl exclaimed disdainfully. "Andmy mother thinks it a shame M'sieu Marchand should have married her whenthere were so many nice girls in St. Louis."
"But she is beautiful and sweet. And, Rosalie, Uncle Gaspard will notcare to have you come if you say ugly things about her."
"Well, I can stay away. There are plenty of girls to play with. And Ishall soon be a young ma'm'selle and have lovers of my own, then I shallnot care for a little chit like you. You can even send the cat back ifyou like."
The cat had grown big and beautiful and kept the place free from miceand rats, which was a great object in the storeroom. Uncle Gaspard saidhe would not trade it for a handsome silver foxskin, which everybodyknew was worth a great deal of money in France.
Madame Marchand made many friends by her grace and amiability. Shetaught Renee some beautiful handiwork, and with the little girl wasalways a welcome visitor at Mattawissa's, though at first they had asmuch difficulty understanding each other's Indian language as if it hadbeen English. But what a lovely, joyous summer it was, with its walksand water excursions up and down the river and on the great pond!
On Saturday she went with Renee to be instructed in the Catechism, andwhichever father was there he seemed impressed with Wawataysee's sweetseriousness and gentle ways.
Then autumn came on. The great fields of corn were cut, the grapesgathered and the wine made. The traders came in again and boats plied upand down. Uncle Gaspard was very busy, and the men about said, makingmoney. The women wondered if Renee de Longueville would get it all, andwhat old Antoine Freneau had; if so she would be a great heiress.
There were nuts to gather as well, and merry parties haunted the woodsfor them. Oh, what glorious days these were, quite enough to inspiritany one! Then without much warning a great fleecy wrap of snow fell overeverything, but the sledging and the shouting had as much merriment init.
Gaspard Denys did not want Renee to go to midnight mass atChristmastide.
"Oh, I am so much bigger and stronger now," she said. "I am not going tobe such a baby as to take cold. Oh, you will see."
She carried her point, of course. He could seldom refuse her anything.And the next morning she was bright enough to go to church again. Andhow sweet it was to see the children stop on the porch and with bowedheads exclaim, "Your blessing, ma mere, your blessing, mon pere," andshake hands with even the poorest, giving them good wishes.
Then all parties went home to a family breakfast. Even the servants werecalled in. Then the children ran about with the etrennes to each other.
"Uncle Gaspard," Renee said, "I want to take something to mygrandfather. He brought me that beautiful chain and cross last year, andI made a cake that Mere Lunde baked, and candied some pears, thinking ofhim."
"Perhaps he is not home. You can never tell."
"He was yesterday. M. Marchand saw him. Will you go?"
"You had better have Mere Lunde. I am busy. But if I can find time Iwill walk down and meet you. And--Renee, do not go in."
"I will heed," she answered smilingly.
The road was hardly broken outside the stockade. Once or twice sheslipped and fell into the snow, but it was soft and did not hurt her.Mere Lunde grumbled a little.
"There is a smoke coming from the chimney," Renee cried joyfully. "Letus go around to the kitchen door."
They knocked two or three times. They could hear a stir within, andpresently the door was opened a mere crack.
"Grandfather," the child began, "I have come to wish you a goodChristmas. I am sorry you were not at church to hear how the little babeJesus was born for our sakes, and how glad all the stars were, even, soglad that they sang together. And I have brought you some small gifts, acake I made for you, alone, yesterday. You made me such a beautiful giftlast year when I was ill."
"And you've come for another! That's always the way," he returnedgruffly.
"No, grandfather, I do not want anything, only to give you this basketwith good wishes and tell you that I am well and happy," she said in aproud, sweet voice, and set the basket down on the stone at the doorway."It would not be quite right for you to give me anything this year."
Her gray fur cloak covered her, and her white fur cap over her faircurls gave her a peculiar daintiness.
"Good-by," she continued, "with many good wishes."
He looked after her in a kind of dazed manner. And she did not wantanything! True, she had enough. Gaspard Denys took good care of her--_he_was too old to be bothered with a child.
But she skipped along very happily. The Marchands were coming in tosupper, and in the meanwhile she and Mere Lunde would concoct daintymesses. She would not go out sledding with the children lest she shouldtake cold again.
It was all festival time now. It seemed as if people had nothing to dobut to be gay and merry. Fiddling and singing everywhere, and some ofthe voices would have been bidden up to a high price in more moderntimes.
And on New Year's day the streets were full of young men who went fromdoor to door singing a queer song, she thought, when she came to know itwell afterward. Part of it was, "We do not ask for much, only the eldestdaughter of the house. We will give her the finest of the wine and feasther and keep her feet warm," which seemed to prefigure the dance a fewdays hence. Sometimes the eldest daughter would come out with acontribution, and these were all stored away to be kept for the Epiphanyball.
In the evening they sang love songs at the door or window of the younglady to whom they were partial, and if the fancy was returned orwelcomed the fair one generally made some sign. And then they saidgood-night to the master and mistress of the household and wished them ayear's good luck.
If a pretty girl or even a plain one was out on New Year's dayunattended, a young fellow caught her, kissed her, and wished her ahappy marriage and a prosperous year. Sometimes, it was whispered, therehad a hint been given beforehand and the right young fellow found thedesired girl.
But the king's ball was the great thing. In the early afternoon thedames and demoiselles met and the gifts were arranged for the evening.Of the fruit and flour a big cake was baked in which were put four largebeans. When all was arranged the girls and the mothers donned their bestfinery, some of it half a century old, and kept only for stateoccasions. The older people opened the ball with the _minuet de lacour_, which was quite grand and formal.
Then the real gayety began. With it all there was a certain charmingrespect, a kind of fine breeding the French never lost. Old gentlemendanced with the young girls, and the young men with matrons. Childrenwere allowed in also, and had corners to themselves. It was said of themthat the French were born dancing.
There were no classes in this festivity. Even some of the upper kind ofslaves came, and the young Indians ventured in.
Gaspard Denys took the little girl, who was all eagerness. M. and MadameGarreau brought their guests, the Marchands, for society had quite takenin the beautiful young Indian, who held her head up so proudly no onewould have dared to offer her a slight.
Among the gayest was Barbe Guion. She had not taken young Maurice, whohad gone off to New Orleans. People were beginning to say that she was abit of a coquette. Madame Renaud announced that Alphonse Maurice was tootrifling and not steady enough for a good husband. In her heart Barbeknew that she had never really meant to marry him.
At midnight the cake was cut and every young girl had a piece. This wasthe great amusement, and everybody thronged about.
"A bean! a bean!" cried Manon Dupont, holding it high above her head soall could see.
Then another, one of the pretty Aubry girls, whose sister had beenmarried at Easter.
"And I, too," announced Barbe Guion, laughing.
They cleared a space for the four queens to stand out on the floor. Whateager glances t
Manon Dupont chose her lover, as every one supposed she would, but therewas no fun or surprise in it, though a general assent.
"And how will she feel at the next ball when _he_ has to choose aqueen?" said some one. "She is a jealous little thing."
Ma'm'selle Aubry glanced around with a coquettish air and selected thehandsomest young fellow in the room.
Who would Barbe Guion choose? She looked dainty enough in a whitewoollen gown with scarlet cloth bands; and two or three masculine heartsbeat with a thump, as the eyes fairly besought.
Gaspard Denys was talking with the burly commandant of the fort, thoughit must be admitted there was very little to command. She went over tohim and handed him her rose.
He bowed and a slight flush overspread his face, while her eyes couldnot conceal her delight.
"You do me a great deal of honor, ma'm'selle, but you might havebestowed your favor on a younger and more suitable man. I thank you forthe compliment," and he pinned the rose on his coat.
She smiled with a softened light in her eyes.
"It is the first time I have had a chance to choose a king," she said ina caressing sort of voice. "I could not have suited myself better. And--Iam almost eighteen. Elise was married a year before that."
"You are not single for lack of admirers, ma'm'selle." She remembered heused to call her Barbe. "What did you do with Alphonse, send him awaywith a broken heart?"
"His was not the kind of heart to break, monsieur. And a girl cannotdeliberately choose bad luck. There is sorrow enough when it comesunforeseen."
Then they took their places. Renee had been very eager at first andwatched the two closely. M. Marchand had appealed to her on some trifle,and now she saw Barbe and Uncle Gaspard take their places in the dance.
"Did she--choose Uncle Gaspard?" the child exclaimed with a longrespiration that was like a sigh, while a flush overspread her face.
"He is the finest man in the room! I would have chosen him myself if Ihad been a maid. And if you had been sixteen wouldn't you have takenhim, little girl? Well, your day will come," in a gay tone.
Wawataysee placed her arm over the child's shoulder. "Let us go aroundhere, we can see them better. What an odd way to do! And very pretty,too!"
Renee's first feeling was that she would not look. Then with a quickinconsequence she wanted to see every step, every motion, every glance.Her king! Barbe Guion had chosen him, and the child's eyes flashed.
It was a beautiful dance, and the gliding, skimming steps of light feetanswered the measure of the music exquisitely. Other circles formed. Thekings and the queens were not to have it all to themselves.
The balls were often kept up till almost morning, though the childrenand some of the older people went home. Gaspard made his way through thecrowd. Madame Marchand beckoned him, and as he neared them he saw Reneewas clinging to her with a desperate emotion next to tears.
"Is it not time little ones were in bed?" she asked with her fascinatingsmile and in pretty, broken French. "Madame Garreau wishes to retire. Itis beautiful, and every one is so cordial. I have danced with delight,"and her pleasure shone in her eyes. "But we will take the child safe toMere Lunde if it is your will."
"Oh, thank you. Yes. You will go, Renee? You look tired." She was paleand her eyes were heavy.
"And you--you stay here and are Ma'm'selle Barbe's king," she said in atone of plaintive reproach that went to his heart.
"That is only for to-night. There are other queens beside her."
"But she is _your_ queen." The delicate emphasis amused him, it betrayedthe rankling jealousy.
"And you are my queen as well, to-morrow, next week, all the time. So donot grudge her an hour or two. See, I am going to give you her rose,_my_ rose, to take home with you."
She smiled, albeit languidly, and held out her small hand, grasping itwith triumph.
He broke the stem as he drew it out, leaving the pin in his coat.
"Now let me see you wrapped up snug and tight. Mind you don't get anycold. Tell Mere Lunde to warm the bed and give you something hot todrink."
She nodded and the party went to the dressing room. The two Indian womenchattered in their own language, or rather in a patois that they hadadopted. Wawataysee was very happy, and her soft eyes shone withsatisfaction. Her husband thought her the prettiest woman in all St.Louis.
Renee gave her orders and Mere Lunde attended to them cheerfully.
"For if you should fall ill again our hearts would be heavy with sorrowand anxiety." she said.
Renee had carried the rose under her cloak and it was only a littlewilted. She put it in some water herself, and brought the stand near thefireplace, for sometimes it would freeze on the outer edges of the room,though they kept a big log fire all night.
Gaspard went back to Ma'm'selle Barbe.
"Oh, your rose!" she cried. "Where is it?"
He put his hand to his coat as if he had not known it. "The pin isleft," he said. "What a crowd there is! St. Louis is getting overrunwith people," laughing gayly. "Give me a rose out of your nosegay, forit would signify bad luck to go on the floor without it."
He took one and fastened it in his coat again, and they were soonmerrily dancing. There was no absolute need of changing partners, andthe queens were proud of keeping their admirers all the evening.
Barbe was delighted and happy, for Gaspard evinced no disposition tostray off, and danced to her heart's content, if not his. He had grownfiner looking, certainly, since he had relinquished the hardships of atrapper's life. His complexion had lost the weather-beaten look, hisframe had filled out, and strangely enough, he was a much more readytalker. Renee chattered so much, asked him so many questions, and madehim talk over people and places he had seen that it had given him areadiness to talk to women. Men could always find enough to say to eachother, or enjoy silence over their pipes.
She seemed to grow brighter instead of showing fatigue, and her voicehad musical cadences in it very sweet to hear. The touch of her hand onhis arm or his shoulder in the dance did give him a peculiar sort ofthrill. She was a very sweet, pretty girl. He was glad not to have herwasted on Alphonse Maurice.
But the delicious night came to an end for her. There was a curiouslittle strife among some of the young men to make a bold dash andcapture a queen. The girls were sometimes willing enough to be caught.Barbe had skilfully evaded this, he noted.
"Ma'm'selle Guion has the bravest king of them all," said a neighbor."He is a fine fellow. I wonder, Mere Renaud, you do not fan the flameinto a blaze. He is prospering, too. Colonel Chouteau speaks highly ofhim and holds out a helping hand. If I had daughters no one would suitme better."
Madame Renaud smiled and nodded as if she had a secret confidence.
Mothers in old St. Louis were very fond and proud of their daughters andwere watchful of good opportunities for them. And those who had nonerather envied them. It was the cordial family affection that made lifein these wilderness places delightful.
Barbe was being wound up in her veil so that her pretty complexionshould suffer no ill at this coldest hour of the twenty-four, afterbeing heated in the dance. She looked very charming, very tempting. Ifhe had been a lover he would have kissed her.
"You come so seldom now," she said in a tone of seductive complaint."And we were always such friends when you returned from your journeys.The children have missed you so much. And Lisa wonders--"
"I suppose it is being busy every day. At that time you know there was aholiday between."
"But there is no business now until spring opens," in a pleading tone.
"Except for the householder, the shopkeeper. Oh, you have no idea howingenious I have become. And the men drop in to talk over plans andberate the Governor because things are not in better shape. We wouldfare badly in an attack."
"Are we in any danger from the British?"
"One can never tell. Perhaps they may take up Pontiac's wild dream ofdriving us over the mountains into the sea. No," wi
"Come, Barbe," counselled Madame Renaud, but she took her husband's armand marched on ahead like an astute general.
Barbe clung closely to her attendant, for in some places it wasslippery.
"Next time you will transfer your attentions," she said with a touch ofregret. "I wonder who will be your queen for a night?"
"The prettiest girl," he said gayly.
"Madame Marchand is beautiful."
"But she is no longer a girl."
"Oh, no. You see a good deal of her, though?"
"They are over often. We are excellent friends."
"Renee is quite bewitched with her."
"Yes, they are very fond of each other."
And somehow she, Barbe, was no more fond of the child than the child wasof her.
Madame Renaud studied her sister's face as they were unwinding theirwraps. It was rather pale, not flushed and triumphant as she hoped.
Gaspared Denys stirred the fire in his shop and threw himself on a pileof skins and was asleep in five minutes. It had been a long while sincehe had danced all night.
They all slept late. There was no need of stirring early in the morning.They made no idol of industry, as the energetic settlers on the easterncoast did. Pleasure and happiness were enough for them. It ran in theFrench blood.
When Gaspard woke he heard a sound of an eager chattering voice. Herubbed his limbs and stretched himself, looked down on his red sash andthen saw a withered red rose that he tossed in the fire.
"Ah, little one, you are as blithe as a bee," was his greeting.
"Oh, Uncle Gaspard, you have on your ball clothes. When did you comehome?" she asked.
"I dropped asleep in them. I am old and stiff this morning. I tumbleddown on a pile of skins and stayed there."
"You don't look very old. And--are you a king now?" rather curiously.
"I must be two weeks hence. Then I resign my sceptre, and become anordinary person."
"And Mere Lunde said you had to choose a new queen." There was a touchof elation in her voice.
"That is so. And I told Ma'm'selle Guion I should look out for the veryprettiest girl. I shall be thinking all the time."
"I wish you could take Wawataysee. She is the prettiest of anybody, andthe sweetest."
"And she has already chosen her king for life."
"The breakfast will get cold," warned Mere Lunde.
There were more snows, days when you could hardly stir out and paths hadto be shovelled. The next ball night it stormed, but Renee did not careto go, because M. and Madame Marchand were staying all night and theywould play games and have parched corn and cakes and spiced drinks.Wawataysee would sing, too. And though the songs were odd, she had anexquisite voice, and she could imitate almost any bird, as well as thewind flying and shrieking through the trees, and then softening withsounds of spring.
Sometimes they danced together, and it was a sight to behold, the veryimpersonation of grace; soft, languid mazes at first and then warminginto flying sprites of the forest. And how Renee's eyes shone and hercheeks blossomed, while the little moccasined feet made no more soundthan a mouse creeping about.
There was no especial carnival at St. Louis, perhaps a little moregayety than usual, and the dances winding up at midnight. Nearly everyone went to church the next morning, listened to the prayers reverently,had a small bit of ashes dropped on his or her head, went home andfasted the rest of the day. But Lent was not very strictly kept, and themaids were preparing for Easter weddings.
"It is strange," said grandaunt Guion, "that Barbe has no lover. She istoo giddy, too much of a coquette. She will be left behind. And she istoo pretty to turn into an old maid. Guion girls were not apt to hang onhand."