The Crossing

dden Re

e minutes trying to collect my scattered senses. The sun streamed in at my open door, the birds hopped on the lawn, and the various sounds of the bustling life of the

which was still on the floor, to the table littered with Mrs. Temple's letters. And there, in the

annot tell you where. Some day I will come bac

d it from Clark's own lips (indiscreet enough now!) that Nick and St. Gré were to prepare the way for an insurrection there. My thoughts ran on to other possibilities; would he see his mother? But he had no reason t

ficiently indecorous figure as I ran towards the water-side, barely nodding to my acquaintances on the way. It was a fresh morning, a river breeze stirred the waters of the Bear Grass, an

said he. "You look for some one, ye

olve never to quib

to New Orleans with the

of his great nose. The nose was red and shin

r Reetchie, you are the ver' soul of honor. And then your frien'!

al. As far as I can see, your plans are carried on ope

ged his

Monsieur? And if Monsieur le Baron de Carondelet, ze governor, hear they are in New Orleans, I think they go to Havana or Brazil." He smiled,

less life; the Citizens Sullivan and Depeau had, to say the least, a limited knowledge of affairs. All of these were responding more or less sincerely to the cry of the people of Kentucky (every day more passionate) that

ess. You are not Federalist, no, for I hear you march

great deal, Monsieur Gignoux," I re

ned to a

re Federalist-but drunk. Is it not so? Monsieur,

ur," I answered, "I am a

f ze cause?

and General Wayne do not think it worth while

to me. However puerile the undertaking, De Lemos at Natchez and Carondelet at New Orleans had not the reputation of sleeping at their posts, and their

ever, his hair-which was swept high above his forehead and tied in an eelskin behind-was as black as when I had seen it at Kaskaskia. I had met Monsieur Vigo many times since, for he was a familiar figure amongst the towns of the Ohi

rummer boy who would not come into my store. Reech

s money?

, and laughed exactly as he had d

face. "I have try-I have talk-I have represent-it is no good. Davy,

hat the devil is this I hear of your ca

n to liquor, Mr. Ma

sk, egad," said Mr. Marshall

aug

mpt to explain it

As I suspected, it was a vigorous condemnation of General Clark and his new expedition. I expressed my b

hiladelphia that the President's consideration for Governor Shelby is worn out, and that he will issue a pro

aug

izen Genêt has been liberal with nothing except c

le, as doubtless you know, have gone to New Orleans. And the most mysterious and therefore the most dangerous of the lot, Citizen Gignoux, has vanished like an evil spirit. It is commo

Monsieur Vigo; "he was on my boat

e was!" said

ver when I made my way down to the bank, to a great ten-oared keel boat that lay on the Bear Grass, with its square sail furle

Orleans." He sighed. "It is so long voyage," he added, "and so lonely one.

me to go with

at me incr

hted," he said, "b

e," I answered, "for I have busines

"I shall be enchant. We will talk philo

e had often indulged in conversation which

ll baggage. At eleven, Monsieur Vigo and I were talking "philosophe" over a wonderful breakfast under the awning, as we dropped down between the forest-lined sho

up of a night the chief men of a tribe would come down to greet him. We slipped southward on the great, yellow river which parted the wilderness, with its sucks and eddies and green islands, every one of which Monsieur knew, and I saw again the flocks of water-fowl and herons in procession, and hawks and vultures wheeling in their search. Sometimes a favorable wind

with a terrible meaning. New Orleans was a cesspool, said the enlightened. The Baron de Carondelet, indefatigable man, aimed at digging a canal to relieve the city of its filth, but this would be the year when it was most needed, and it was not dug. Yes, Monsieur le Baron was energy itself. That other fever-the political one-he had scotched. "?a Ira" and "La Marseillaise" had bee

the North? They may have sighed secretly when I painted it in its true colors, but they loved peace, these planters. Strangely enough, the name of Auguste de St

but because I sought some way of separating the more intimate story of Nick's mother and his affair with Antoinette de St. Gré from the rest of the story. But Monsieur Vigo was a man of importance in Louisiana, and I reflected that a time might come when I should need his help. One evening, when we were tied up under the oaks of a bayou, I tol

do, Davy?" he

de a noise, I thought of going to the Baron de Carondelet and telling him what I know of the expedition. He will understand w

e ze Baron think Morro good place for them jus' the sem. Ze Baron

nted me since I had first beheld it. The miniature was wrapped now in a silk handkerchief which Polly Ann had bought for me in Lexington. Shall I confess it?-I had carefully rubbed off the discolorations on the ivory at the back, and the picture lacked now only the gold setting. As for the face, I had a kind of consolation from it. I seemed to draw of its strength when I was tired, of it

-eyes that seemed to look with scorn upon what was mean in the world and untrue, with pity on the weak. Here was one who might have governed a