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 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
 SOCIETIES 
 
 PS3501 
 .U584 
 
 R7 
 1891 
 
^ -^/C<.,/Jj( y/tf,.a^^^ ^j^f^^^ ^CrTCZ^ 
 
 ROMANCES 
 
 OF 
 
 NEW ORLEANS 
 
 _3Y GEO. AUGUSTIN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF^ 
 
 Love and Decit//,^' '" Her Ptiuis/iinc/l ,'' 
 
 k>a4^ 
 
 I'liough this transient wor 
 As the" countless ages ro 
 
 \Vh:it one seeks from man 
 
 Will he struggle to contrc 
 
 — The F/cc, 
 
 NEW ORLEANS: 
 
 L. (iKAHAM Jt Son, 99-103 Gi<a\ ikk Si 
 1891. 
 
This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on 
 the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it 
 may be renewed by bringing it to the library. 
 
 ^""^^ RET 
 DUE "^'• 
 
 ^'^^^ RET 
 DUE "^'- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 rm No. 513, 
 
 
 
 
TO 
 
 THAT GRACEFUL SOUTHERN WRITER AND 
 GIFTED SCHOLAR, 
 
 P' MRS. VIRGINIA DLWITKY RUTH, 
 
 t 
 
 4IS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
 

 
 PREFACE 
 
 The invariable rule of the general reader is to skip 
 prefaces, but an author's immemorial habit being to 
 write them, I feel myself called upon for an explan- 
 ^\tion. 1 will do so briefly and simply. I only wish 
 to thank those who have kindly helped me in this 
 undertaking. Being a New Orleans boy, substantial 
 encouragement was generally tendered, assuring 
 
 success. 
 
 A few of the poems and romances herein have 
 already been published under my name in various 
 periodicals. With but slight changes, I reproduce 
 them as they originally appeared. 
 
 " Yetta, the Nun," has never been in print before. 
 
 It is 
 
 " A tale of sorrow treasured, 
 
 Too fondly to depart; 
 Of wrong from Love the Flatterer, 
 And my own wayward heart," 
 
 ^\\i\ has taken me four years to complete. It has 
 been revised, altered and condensed more times than 
 I can tell, and it is with mingled feelings of regret 
 and reluctance that I now part with this favorite 
 <;hild of my fancy. Perchance some critical reader 
 will begrudge me for having weaned it so soon ? 
 
 G. A. 
 New Orleans, MarcJi i6, i8gi. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TACE. 
 
 Yetta, Tiuc Nun 9 
 
 S3 
 
 lOI 
 
 M5 
 167 
 
 185 
 
 LULETTE 
 
 Irreconcilable 
 
 The Creole Flower Gikl ^^') 
 
 The Strangler of Congo Square 
 
 Iyala, The Dancer 
 
 The Death-x\n<;el - 
 
 Smiles and Tears (Poems) ^97 
 
 Pardonable Curiosity ^99 
 
 The Angry Pessimist 
 
 My Sweet Lulette 
 
 The Girl-Suicide 
 
 Estranged 
 
 Baby 
 
 Tin-a-feex 
 
 The Fleeting Ideal 
 
 200 
 201 
 203 
 204 
 205 
 206 
 20S 
 
YETTA, THE NUN, 
 
 A FORGOTTEN TRAGEDY Of OLD 
 NEW ORLEANS. 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Rise, O tide of my heart, to her beautiful eyes, 
 On the billows of P'ate, like the sea to the skies. 
 
 About the year 1763, Dr. Carlos Alvez, a 
 graduate of the Madrid School of Medicine, 
 left his native country and settled in New 
 Orleans. He was young, intelligent and am- 
 bitious and soon controlled a numerous practice. 
 In a few 3'ears he amassed a snug fortune, 
 which he invested in town lots. Toward the 
 end of the last century he estabhshed a drug 
 store at the corner of Esplanade avenue and 
 Rampart street and did a thriving business. 
 
 Among the throngs which daily pass the lo- 
 cality, on their way to the business sections of 
 the cit}', probably not one ever heard of the 
 quaint little structure known as " Pharmacie 
 Alvez.'' It was destroyed by fire in 1836. A 
 one-story frame house, at present used as a 
 
12 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 fruit stand and grocery combined, has oblit- 
 erated all signs of the old landmark. 
 
 Dr. Alvez prospered wonderfullv. He grad- 
 ually acquired possession of the land adjoining 
 his original purchase, until his estate included 
 all that tract now comprised within Esplanade 
 avenue, Burgundy. St. Anthony and St. Claude 
 streets. 
 
 In 1802 Dr. Alvez married Miss Pepiia 
 Delric. daughter of a college-mate of his 
 father, who, like him, had made Louisiana 
 his home. A son (Louis) blessed this union. 
 From his infancy this 3^oung gentleman was 
 schooled to familiarize himself with the pro- 
 fession which had been followed by his paternal 
 ancestors from time immemorial. Dr. Alvez's 
 ambition was that his offspring should begin as 
 early as possible to assist him in ministering to 
 the ills of his numerous clientele and tradition 
 says he began "talking shop"' to him on the 
 very day he had his first look at the world. In 
 after years, when young Louis had mastered 
 the alphabet and could read words of one 
 or two syllables, the first book of any conse- 
 quence he had to struggle with, was a medical 
 one. His father would take him on his knee 
 
YKTTA, rilE NUN. 13 
 
 and expound things which made the toddler open 
 his eyes to their widest capacity and cross- 
 examine his instructor as only a child can. 
 But the Doctor bore this catechism with forti- 
 tude and cheerfully explained everything. 
 
 Dr. Alvez's father-in-law had only two chil- 
 dren— Pepita and Charles. The latter married 
 a Creole girl a few years after the Doctor's in- 
 road into the family and a daughter, Yetta, was 
 born to him. 
 
 From the day Louis was allowed to take a 
 peep at his new cousin, he evinced a strong in- 
 terest in her. As time went by and the young- 
 lady began to understand what transpired about 
 her, she reciprocated his affection and the two 
 romped and played together, as happy as mortals 
 could be. Very often, when evening came and 
 their nurses would coax them to stop their gam- 
 bols and retire peaceably to bed, they would 
 cryingly protest against such an arbitrary pro- 
 cedure and force had to be employed to sepa- 
 rate them. 
 
 At twelve years of age, Yetta was bundled 
 off to a convent. Louis was two years her senior, 
 and had attained an age at which most boys 
 consider themselves full-grown men, but this 
 
14 ItOMAXCES OF NKW OllLKANS. 
 
 did not deter him from sobbing like a baby 
 wlien he received a scravvly, tear-bedewed note 
 from his little sweetheart a few days afterward, 
 in which she said she still thought as much of 
 him and had cried every niglit since their separa- 
 tion. 
 
 Yetta remained absent seven years. During 
 that period. Louis had news of her only 
 through her parents, as the nuns abhorred men, 
 and spirited away an}' communication addressed 
 to their wards. This is whv Yetta never re- 
 ceived the lurid answer Louis penned her. 
 
 A few now living may recall the peculiar, 
 semi-octagonal building which vears ago stood 
 in the pentagon formed b\' Bourbon. Dauphine, 
 Union, Royal and Peace streets. This was 
 St. Veronica Convent. It was the first large 
 dwelling constructed in Louisiana, and was for 
 a long time an object of wondering admiration. 
 It was torn down and ils site subdivided into 
 lots about forty 3'ears ago. 
 
 But the curiously inclined were not permitted 
 to inspect this quaint structure very minutely. 
 The nuns waged incessant war against in- 
 truders. The grounds were surrounded by 
 a high stone wall, topped with broken glass. 
 
VETIA, TlIK Xl^N. If. 
 
 etc., and traps were hidden in the most 
 out-of-the-way places within the shadow of the 
 wall. There were large signs at each angle of 
 the wall, on w^hich was conspicuously painted : 
 
 NO BOYS OR MEN 
 ALLOWED ON THESE PREMISES. 
 
 Fearful stories w^ere told of the fate of boys 
 who had had the temerity to disregard this pro- 
 hibition. There was a tradition, often whis- 
 pered at the fireside with shuddering dread, that 
 the nuns' favoiite mode of punishment was to 
 tie tliem b}^ the feet to one end of a short rope, 
 at whose other extremity a wildcat or panther 
 was attached. The whole thing was then thrown 
 over the limb of a tree reserved expressly for 
 such exhibitions and the venturesome youth was 
 never seen or heard of afterward. Other grue- 
 some modes of punishment were vouched for, 
 but this particular one had a more deterrent ef- 
 fect upon predatory urchins than any other. 
 
 This explains why, although living but a few^ 
 squares from the convent, Louis never saw his 
 child-love during the seven 3'ears she was away. 
 
16 liOMANCES OK NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Years went by. Spurred by his ambitious 
 father Louis studied zealously, and at twenty- 
 one graduated with high honors. Of course 
 Dr. Alvez could not allow such an event to pass 
 quietly by. He gave a grand ball in his son's 
 honor, to which all the youth and beauty of 
 fashionable New Orleans were invited. 
 
 On the morning of the day selected for the 
 ball, Yetta returned from convent. Louis was 
 amazed at the change time had operated in her, 
 and wondered what mysterious agency could 
 have metamorphosed her into such a beautiful 
 woman. Up to that day he had never been 
 seriously in love. He had but a vague idea of 
 what this dangerous passion really was, and 
 little dreamed what momentous changes it could 
 work in the life of a man. He thought that 
 women were created simply to amuse us, and 
 the idea of manacling himself for life to one of 
 these effervescent beings never entered his mind. 
 As he contemplated Yetta on the night of the 
 ball, all his pet theories were forgotten. He 
 pictured to himself what blis£ it would be to 
 pass one's entire life near her, a slave "to her 
 every wish. Memories of the past, dormant for 
 years, whirled through his mind. He imagined 
 
YETTA, THE NUX. 17 
 
 himself walking hand in hand with his child 
 love through his father's park, happy, innocent, 
 thinking only of frolicking about. Could her 
 heart still be beating forliim, or had the advent 
 of womanhood banished the past from her mind ? 
 He felt bewildered, fascinated' and would have 
 parted with the dearest treasures of earth to be 
 left alone with her for a single moment, that he 
 might implore her to unbind the fetters she had 
 gyved around his heart years ago. 
 
 Having been immured for seven dreary years 
 in 'an institution where even to mention a mas- 
 culine name evoked a frowning rebuke, Yetta 
 naturally had an unconquerable horror of the 
 dance. It was only after much coaxing that she 
 consented to remain in the parlor; and being a 
 woman of tact and education, she took pains to 
 make herself agreeable. 
 
 Louis spent much of his time beside his 
 cousin. Not to appear too boorish, he was com- 
 pelled to be amiable with all; but whenever he 
 could escape, he would seek Yetta. 
 
 '*Your guests will think you very uncivil," 
 said the latter, as Louis approached her and 
 asked the privilege of a promenade. ''You are 
 too often near me." 
 
 2 
 
18 ROMANXES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 "I have the reputation of being a desperate 
 flirt," Louis observed ; "this will shield me from 
 censure." 
 
 Yetta laughed softly and accepted his prof- 
 fered arm. 
 
 They were now in the garden. It was the 
 first time the cousins had a chance to be alone, 
 and Louis resolved to know his fate. He began 
 by talking of the past, and asked Yetta if she 
 recalled the delightful times they had together. 
 To his surprise she seemed displeased, and pet- 
 ulantly said : 
 
 *'Let us leave our childhood days alone, I 
 entreat you. I have been so long awa}' from 
 the w^orld that I want to hear oi f resent happen- 
 ings." 
 
 Louis tried to conquer this whim, but seeing 
 he only succeeded in getting Yetta angry, con- 
 cluded he w^ould have plenty of time to make 
 her talk the ensuing days and turned the con- 
 versation into other channels. 
 
 •The rest of the evening seemed like a dream 
 to the young doctor. He felt he had at last met 
 his Waterloo; that women were not created 
 simply to amuse us, but to sway our souls with 
 their gentleness and fascinating sweetness. 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 10 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 • I'll obey you, though 't is plain 
 You are jesting with my pain." 
 
 For a week after Yetta's arrival, Louis saw 
 her only at meals, as his father kept him clos- 
 eted all day in his laboratory, instructing him 
 how to compound innumerable chemical com- 
 positions and making him delve into almost in- 
 terminable volumes to more fully illustrate his 
 teachings. 
 
 When the young man was at last liberated, 
 he felt overjoyed and roamed all about the 
 house in search of his ideal. He thought how 
 pflad she would be to have a few hours of un- 
 disturbed conversation with her childhood com- 
 panion ; how volubly they would speak of the 
 delightful events of the past. He attributed her 
 previous restraint to her sudden transition from 
 the dismal quietness of convent life to the dizzy 
 turmoil of the social world, and wondered what 
 queer notions went tumbling about her puzzled 
 little head. She would see her child-lover 
 once more, would confide to him as of old and 
 would find his heart yearning to call back the 
 feeling which had been dormant so long. 
 
20 ROMANCES OK NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 What dreams — but his reverie was brought to an 
 end by his coming suddenly upon Yetta, who 
 stood in a doorway overlooking the garden, 
 gazing dreamily about. This incident, coupled 
 with his romantic train of thoughts, served to 
 completely demoralize him. The great love 
 he felt for his cousin overmastered all thoughts 
 of further restraint and he rushed forward, 
 caught her in his arms and showered kiss after 
 kiss upon her roseal, half-parted lips. 
 
 "Oh Louis, how you frightened me I" exclaim- 
 ed the girl, freeing herself from his grasp. 
 "Were I your father," she angrily resumed, 
 "I would keep 3'ou locked up all the time. 
 You are positively dangerous." 
 
 "What a fine young lady you are," Louis 
 admiringly said, not heeding her anger. "It. 
 seems to me as if it were but yesterday that we 
 romped together. What a rousing girl you 
 are!" 
 
 He advanced with the intention of repeating 
 the osculatory performance. 
 
 "I wish you would stop those ungentlemanly 
 manners," Yetta curtly said, pushing him away. 
 "I think over-study has taken away the little 
 intelligence you once possessed." 
 
VETTA, THE NUN. 21 
 
 Louis had expected a more amiable recep- 
 tion. 
 
 '*Such a compliment should be punished with 
 a kiss," he replied, affecting gayet}-. 
 
 *' Love may cherish such punishments," was 
 the chilling reply ; "indifference detests them." 
 
 Louis made no reply, but gazed amusedly at 
 the angry girl, curious to discover what could 
 be her motive in being so curt. He ob- 
 served that her lips trembled like those of a 
 frightened child, and plainly saw she was far 
 from meaning what she said. He felt an irre- 
 sistible yearning to take her again in his arms 
 and kiss those pouting lips until they smiled for 
 him; but the harsh manner in which she had 
 spoken had wounded his pride, and he did not 
 care to be too effusive without first teasing her 
 a little. Smiling derisivel3S he said: 
 
 *' Your conduct is not very laudable, Yetta." 
 
 *' I am aware of it," was the quick retort. 
 
 " Then why do 3^ou act that way?" 
 
 " Because I do not care to remodel my char- 
 acter to suit your fancy." 
 
 Louis bit his lip and changed his tone to one 
 of conciliation. 
 
 " Come," he said, " look gay and do not be 
 
22 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 r 
 
 SO mean. Suppose we stroll about the gardens? 
 It is such a fine evening for walking." 
 
 /' I thank you ever so much, but I am tired," 
 was the answer. 
 
 *' Tired?" Louis testity exclaimed. *'That 
 word never escaped your lips years ago — " 
 
 Yetta impatiently interrupted him. 
 
 " I wish you would cease importuning me 
 about my baby days,"^ she said. *'I told 3^ou it 
 displeased me." 
 
 Louis gazed sadly at her. 
 
 " Do I annoy you ? " he asked. 
 
 *' When you speak of our childhood — yes." 
 
 *' You really do not care to listen to me?" 
 
 " I have proved it often enough." 
 
 " It would then cause you unutterable joy if I 
 left you alone?" 
 
 '* I assure you it would." 
 
 *' Very well, marble-hearted, convent-bred 
 girl, I will pester you no more." 
 
 He abruptly left the room. Yetta looked on 
 with unmoved features, but a tear coursed down 
 her cheek as her lover disappeared from sight. 
 
 One morning, Louis rose earlier than usual 
 and wandered about the garden, pondering over 
 the singularity of Yetta's conduct. Whenever 
 
VETTA, THE NUN. 2o 
 
 Dr. Alvez or any member of the family were 
 present, she was amiable, even affectionate with 
 him, but she would immediately assume an 
 attitude of exasperating coldness should she 
 find herself alone with him and finally leave 
 the room on some trifling pretext. 
 
 **That girl is a born coquette," mused 
 Louis, walking aimlessly about. " I never had 
 a flattering opinion of convents, — Hello!" 
 
 He had come around a sharp turn of the path 
 and found himself face to face with Yetta, who 
 was reclining in an easy chair, apparently 
 deeply interested in an illustrated magazine. 
 She seemed not to have noticed the intruder. 
 
 " Let me try a reconciliation," thought Louis. 
 '* Perhaps she is in good humor this morning." 
 
 He advanced toward her and pleasantly 
 said : 
 
 " Up already, cousin? This is quite an unex- 
 pected pleasure." 
 
 Yetta kept on reading with unaltered persist- 
 ency, 
 
 Louis gulped down an angry remark and 
 gallantly resumed : 
 
 *' A Madonna would envy your grace, Yetta. 
 
24 ROMANCES OF XEW ORLEANS. 
 
 You are as appetizing as a rose bud this morn- 
 ing/' 
 
 He made a feint of kissing her, She edged 
 away a little and fixed her dark eyes upon him. 
 
 '* I detest time-worn compliments," she said. 
 
 '* I will cheerfully coin new ones to please 
 you," answered Louis. 
 
 Again those dark eyes w^ere raised to his face 
 in frowning rebuke. 
 
 '' I wish you would talk and act sensibh' once 
 in your life," said their owner, coldly. " I am 
 tired to hear everybody say we are going to 
 marry, and I want to come to some definite 
 understanding with you: Do you really love 
 me?" 
 
 The suddenness of the question took Louis 
 by surprise. 
 
 " It would be folly to deny it," he wonder- 
 ingly replied. 
 
 " I felt sure of it," Yetta resumed, "but I 
 wanted to hear you say so. Perhaps I also love 
 you, but I can not confess it. You do not un- 
 derstand my nature, Louis. You think me 
 haughty and cruel; could you read my thoughts 
 3'ou would unhesitatingly pity me. I know I 
 I make you suffer, but you are not the only 
 
VETTA, THE XUN. 2o 
 
 one who feels miserable. Could you be near 
 when I am alone in my room and see the tears 
 that veil my eyes when I ponder over my happy, 
 innocent childhood ; could you listen to the 
 beating of my aching heart, you would kneel 
 before me and implore my pardon for every 
 unkind word you spoke to me." 
 
 "Sweet love," said Louis, fondly, "If you 
 only knew how dear you were to me." 
 
 He made an effort to take her in his arms, 
 but the girl pushed him away, saying: 
 
 " No, Louis, I can never be yours. My heart 
 may be longing to remain amid associations of 
 a life which I can never revive, but I must steel 
 it against such thoughts. I must return to 
 convent next week. If you have any compas- 
 sionate feeling for me, do not make the parting 
 harder. Even if I am rude with you, be kind 
 tome, forgive me!" 
 
 She glanced imploringly at him. He started, 
 for he saw in that look the unconscious avowal 
 of a deep, passionate love, whose fervency only 
 death could obliterate. He felt like folding her 
 to his bosom ; but she had so often repulsed 
 him, he remained impassive. 
 
 " I admire your frankness, Yetta," he said, 
 
26 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 quietly. " I hardly comprehend 3'our motive, 
 but I respect it. Were you my wife, my path- 
 way through life w^ould be strewn with thornless 
 roses; but you deny me that happiness and I 
 wall do as you wish. Give me your hand. If 
 w^e can not be lovers, we can at least part as 
 friends." 
 
 He extended his hand, but Yetta eluded it. 
 
 " I care no more for your friendship than I 
 do for your love," was the haughty remark. 
 " I thought you loved me trul}^ and felt sorry 
 for you, knowing I could never be your wife. 
 The nuns rightly told me that all men were 
 fickle and false-hearted, and it was foolish of 
 me to believe you sincere for a single moment. 
 If you really cared for me, you would not have 
 proved so faint-hearted ; you would have begged 
 me to marry you with all the ardor which true 
 love inculcates. Instead of giving me up so 
 easily, you would now be on your knees before 
 me." 
 
 Louis looked coldly at her. 
 
 " I have never knelt before a woman," he 
 said; ** I never will." 
 
 He walked rapidly away to conceal his agita- 
 tion. When he had ofot around the turn in the 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 27 
 
 path, he stopped, softly retraced his steps and 
 peeped at the scene he had just left. Yetta's 
 head was laid on her arm and he could see by 
 her trembling form that she was sobbing. A 
 satisfied smile displaced the frown which had 
 darkened his features and he walked away with 
 a happier heart. He was now certain of her 
 love. 
 
 A few hours later a servant broug-ht the 
 3'oung doctor the appended note : 
 
 "Dear Louis — I hope you are not angry be- 
 cause I treated you so unkindly this morning. 
 I felt nervous and did not mean half the things 
 I said. I am going to make a pilgrimage to the 
 Lover's Oak just now; meet me there as soon 
 as you can escape from that nasty old labora- 
 tory and we can talk about anything you like. 
 
 "Yetta." 
 
 Louis tore the note into minute pieces. 
 
 "I will do no such thing," he said. "If she 
 thinks she can make a jumping-jack out of me, 
 she is mistaken. Hang those convent girls, 
 anyhow. I wonder if they are all as chameleon- 
 like as Yetta?" 
 
 He went to his desk and began to attend to 
 routine business. By some inexplicable phe 
 nomenon, the miscellaneous rows of jars and 
 
28 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 bottles about himgradualW vanished and tliere 
 arose in their stead a stately oak, near which 
 bubbled a little fountain. He looked on more 
 intently. A human form slowly outlined itself, 
 .finally disclosing a saddened, expectant face, 
 whose dark eyes were wistfully turned toward 
 him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again — 
 but only saw medical paraphernalia. 
 
 "If that girl does not drive me crazy with her 
 sorcery," he muttered, "I am endowed with 
 phenomenal mental calibre.'' 
 
 He arose with a sigh and went toward the 
 designated place. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 See here : I shut tight my weary eyes, 
 As thousands of times I've done in play. 
 
 When I unclose them in soft surprise, 
 Ring out a laugh in your own old way I " 
 
 Louis entered the garden with wildly beating 
 heart, and hastened his steps when he neared 
 the Lover's Oak — so called because it had been 
 the try sting-place of amorous couples from time 
 immemorial. As he drew near, however, the 
 spirit of aggressiveness which had ruled since 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 29 
 
 the lovers had been thrown together, prompted 
 him to open hostihties, and he walked toward 
 Yetta with the avowed intention of getting her 
 angry. Seeing she had not noticed his coming, 
 he hid behind a tree and indulged in the intel- 
 lectual pastime of watching her every move- 
 ment. She was knitting, and the sight seemed 
 to Louis the prettiest he had ever witnessed. 
 
 For a few moments Yetta went on with her 
 work in silence; then, looking up, quietly said: 
 
 *' It seems to me it is quite warm to play 
 hide-and-seek, doctor. Come and sit near me." 
 
 How gently she spoke I Louis stared speech- 
 lessly at her, wondering if he was not the vic- 
 tim of a delicious vision. 
 
 "I see that you are revengeful, continued 
 Yetta, in the same tone. ''Do not be that way. 
 See, I have made a nice, cosy place for you." 
 
 And she pushed aside her work. 
 
 ''I am sure you must think me very stupid," 
 said Louis, taking the proffered seat. 
 
 "Not at all. You are a little eccentric, that 
 is all. But you are a doctor and this foible is 
 pardonable. By the by, we have spent so 
 much time wrangling about one thing and 
 another, that you did not once speak to me 
 
30 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 about your future plans or your profession. I 
 think it is such a noble one. Confide all your 
 secrets to me, Louis." 
 
 She leaned her head upon her hand and 
 looked encouragingly at him. Louis' first 
 thought was that she was making fun of him, 
 and he opened his mouth to say something un- 
 kind ; but those clear eyes looking straight into 
 his own disarmed him, and the harsh words 
 remained unuttered. 
 
 *'Do you really care to listen to me?" he 
 asked, for want of something else to say. 
 
 '' If I was not interested in your welfare, 
 I would not have called you here," was the re- 
 proving answer. 
 
 Louis hesitatingly pressed her hand. She 
 made no resistance. He then tried to speak, 
 but the phrases he wished to utter went whirhng 
 about his mind in such wild disorder, that he 
 merely stared at the girl and kept on pressing 
 her hand. Yetta's face became a deep pink all 
 over, the color going and coming like the soft- 
 ening glow of a dying ember. 
 
 " Why are you holding my hand so tightly 
 and looking at me in such a funny way?" she 
 queried, poutlngly. 
 
YE'l'PA, THE NUN. 81 
 
 *'I — er — that is — er — I was trying to — er — 
 mesmerize you," stammered the doctor, hazard- 
 ing any reply. 
 
 Yetta looked at him in sincere wonder. 
 " I don't understand, Louis. Please explain." 
 Louis was but slightly lamiliar with this mys- 
 terious science; nevertheless, he began a graphic 
 portraiture of its effects on certain persons, the 
 Utopian experiments he had witnessed, etc., 
 concluding by getting things so hopelessly con- 
 fused, that Yetta smilingly interrupted: 
 
 " I can not understand your meaning, but it is 
 not your fault if I am dull of comprehension. 
 From the faint knowledge I glean from your 
 explanation, I think it must be so nice to be 
 mesmerized. Could you not try again? I 
 promise not to disturb you." 
 
 The unwilling champion of Mesmer winced 
 a little, but it was too late to retreat. 
 
 "You must then remain perfectly still and 
 look me straight in the eyes," he gravely re- 
 marked. 
 
 Yetta did so. 
 
 Louis arose, made a few passes, and said: 
 " Don't you feel a Httle drowsy? " 
 "Never was so wide awake in my life." 
 "This is the precursor of the magnetic cur 
 
32 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 rent," observed the experimenter, feeling it 
 mandatory to say something. 
 
 He next indulged in a nondescript pantomime. 
 
 "Are you asleep now?" he asked, faintly. 
 
 "Not a bit,'' was the discouraging reply. 
 
 Again Louis made spasmodic passes, but 
 Yetta's e3'es shone with tantalizing clearness. 
 
 "It is not right to act that way,'' complained 
 the doctor. "You must go to sleep." 
 
 " But I don't feel any magnetic current. You 
 know you said this was the principal thing in 
 mesmerism." 
 
 "That's nothing; shut tight your eyes and 
 you will feel it quick enough." 
 
 She languidly closed her eyes. Louis waited 
 a few moments and said : 
 
 "Are you asleep now?'* 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Fast asleep V '" 
 
 "Nothing but your domineering mind can 
 awake me.'' 
 
 The situation was getting embarrassing. 
 Louis knew she was dissembling. 
 
 '• I experience a fond longing to pry into the 
 secrets of your heart," he said, in deep, thrilling 
 tones. 
 
YETTA, THE NUX. 83 
 
 •' My lieart is no longer in m}- power," came 
 the response, in a voice so low that the hyp- 
 notizer had to bend \'er\' near to distinguish the 
 sounds. 
 
 •' Wluit audacious mortal has dominion over 
 it?" he said, breathlessly. 
 
 '• The one whose subtle influence has over- 
 mastered my volition." 
 
 "And the owner of the heart, has she — " 
 
 " I divine your thoughts ere you can utter 
 tliem. No, she has no desire to recall it." 
 
 Her answers flashed like lightning ! 
 
 '•Never mind," thought Louis, '• I'll give 
 you tit for tat." 
 
 He noiselessly slipped away and walked be- 
 liind Yetta, intending to take her by surprise 
 and kiss her upturned lips. He slowly stooped 
 over her. Nearer and nearer were her lips ; 
 wilder and wilder beat his heart. Onl}^ one 
 second and he would have tasted the prohibited 
 ambrosia — but the queenly head was swiftlv 
 averted, and he only kissed a fluttering curl. 
 
 Louis was naturally indignant. 
 
 "I thought you were asleep," he said, frown- 
 ing. 
 
 " I am. See, mv eyes are closed." 
 
34 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 '* How then could you have seen me stooping 
 down?" 
 
 " I did not see you. I read what was going 
 on in vour mind/' 
 
 "How can you read what was going on in 
 my mind, when it is / who mesmerized you? 
 You are a little imposter, Yetta." 
 
 '•You have mastery over me in all matters 
 which do not appertain to loving demonstra- 
 tions — but no turther. The moment you feel 
 the least desire to take familiarities with me, 
 your dominion ceases. A touch suffices to 
 transfer your will power to me." 
 
 '' The pupil seems to know more than its in- 
 structor," mused Louis. "Let me formulate 
 a poser. Ah, I have it!" 
 
 He again faced her and gravely observed: 
 
 •' By the mastery my will exercises over thine, 
 O I dormant girl, I command thee to warble a 
 fervid love sonnet — a tune \vhich no mortal ears 
 have yet heard and which mortal lips have yet 
 to utter. Selah I I have spoken." 
 
 A slight tremor passed over the girl and her 
 face was very pale as she replied : 
 
 '' Director of mv subservient mind, must I 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 35 
 
 chant of the blissful past, the troublous present 
 or the veiled future?" 
 
 " Thy soncT must allude to those three phases 
 of life," was the triumphant response. 
 
 Yetta slightly raised her head and sang the 
 following strain, in a voice scarcely audible at 
 first, but which gradually became louder and 
 clearer as she proceeded: 
 
 PARTED. 
 
 We must part ! 
 
 Ah, my tones quaver 
 
 And my blanched cheeks paler seem ; 
 Can it be that I shall never 
 
 See thine eyes with love-looks beam ? 
 Thou art pensive 'cause my cold hand 
 
 Trembles as it fondles thine, 
 Telling of wounds which can ne'er mend — 
 
 Wounds enshrined by arts of thine. 
 
 Courage ! 
 
 See, my lips are smiling 
 
 And my voice hath ceased to quaver ; 
 Press my hand just once, my darling. 
 
 Ere we drift apart forever. 
 Though from thy side I now hasten. 
 
 Still thy dear face e'er will haunt me — 
 Love, I see thy fond eyes glisten ; 
 
 Is it — is it — No, I must flee! 
 
80 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Farewell I 
 
 As the waning starbeams 
 Linger in the morning sk}- ; 
 As the Orient gleams with sunbeams 
 
 And the dawn of day is nigh — 
 Still, my lover, I'll be thinking 
 
 Of a face which makes mine glow. 
 And my white lips will be pleading: ~ 
 "Darling, 'tis 7iot time to go I " 
 
 As the final notes of the soncr floated away, 
 graduall}^ blending with the trillings of the birds, 
 Louis caught Yetta in his arms and passion- 
 ately^mbraced her. She gave a startled cry 
 and rushed awav from him. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 There is no death ! The stars go down 
 To rise upon some fairer shore ; 
 
 And, bright in Heaven's jeweled crown, 
 Thev shine forevermore." 
 
 Louis pressed his hands to his forehead and 
 thought over the occurrences of the past weeks, 
 feeling certain he would become mad if Yetta 
 kept on tantalizing him much longer. Hearing 
 a slight noise, he turned around, — and there 
 stood Yetta, calmly looking at him ! 
 
VETTA, THE NUX. 37 
 
 " For God's sake, stop tormenting me!" he 
 cried, putting forth his hands as if to push her 
 away. " I have no strength left to deiend my- 
 self." 
 
 ''I do not come to torment you," sadly 
 replied Yetta, resuming her seat. " If any one 
 has cause to make reproaches, I should do so. 
 I was playing with you, and you should not 
 have taken advantage of my defenceless condi- 
 tion. You have wronged me deeply, Louis, 
 for I now feel I can never conquer the senti- 
 ment I have for you." * 
 
 She buried her face between her hands and 
 sobbed. Louis drew her gently to him and 
 soothingly caressed her. She presently be- 
 came calmer and said, suddenly : 
 
 '^ Is it true that all men are lickle-hearted 
 and false?" 
 
 "With a single exception, yes." 
 
 " That exception is yourself? " 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 ' ' You then never loved before ? ' ' 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Never even had a sweetheart! " 
 
 " You are a walking catechism, Yetta." 
 
 " You do not answer my question." 
 
38 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " Yes, I did have some. But this does not 
 signif}' that I loved. AlH^oung men are — " 
 
 **Never mind other men. I want to know 
 how many sweethearts you have liad thus far." 
 
 " That's a funny question. I would answer 
 with pleasure, but I lost the set of books in which 
 I kept their names.'' 
 
 He smiled, but Yetta looked compassionately 
 at him. 
 
 " You are very young to speak so banteringl}^ 
 about such a grave subject,'' said she. *'Do 
 3'ou mean to tell me that you have loved, adored 
 and forgotten — all within the brief transition 
 from adolescence to manhood?" 
 
 "Such is the astounding truth." 
 
 Again Yetta looked pityingh^ at him. 
 
 "You are indeed worthy of commiseration," 
 she observed, shaking her head. "I wonder it 
 God will forgive you when the Day of Judg- 
 ment arrives." 
 
 "I do not believe in such things," said Louis. 
 
 "Do you mean to say you do not think the 
 soul is immortal?" 
 
 "I have faith in the soul's immortality, but 
 not in a general day of judgment." 
 
 "I fail to understand your meaning, Louis." 
 
 "I will make it clearer: You believe in the 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. ^9 
 
 revival from the dead, and feel certain the day 
 will come when an angel will descend from 
 Heaven and warn mankind of its approaching 
 doom. The tombs throughout the world will 
 then crumble into dust, and their erst soulless 
 tenants will be vivified and will throng the earth 
 once more. This looks very pretty as an alle- 
 gorical dissertation, but can never happen in 
 reality. When a human being dies his soul re- 
 turns to its Maker, who allots it to a place 
 suited to its deportment while roaming the earth. 
 In the meantime the lifeless clay has been en- 
 tombed, and soon crumbles into dust. Thus 
 nothing is left of the original shape. Centuries 
 drag by. This residue of a once animated 
 creation is gradually absorbed by the atmos- 
 phere, vanishing forever as time rolls on. Nows 
 if there is any such thing as a general Day of 
 Judgment, how can all the particles originally 
 composing the body be reassembled into a 
 compact mass? Can the elements restore the 
 dust they have wafted throughout the Universe, 
 and which has been mingling with the exu- 
 dations from millions upon millions of soul- 
 less bodies tor ages past? It is undeniably im- 
 possible." 
 
40 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Yetta seemed bewildered. 
 
 '' i\nd the soul, Louis," said she, "is its mis- 
 sion ended when it leaves the body?" 
 
 "No, it is immortal. If it is a crime-haunted 
 soul, it is whirled into the deepest abyss of the 
 infernal regions, where it squirms in eternal 
 agon}'. If, on the contrar}^ its career has been 
 pure. It is sent into other worlds, where it enters 
 the body of a new-born babe and shields its 
 after life from harm." 
 
 '• The soul is then simply one's guardian 
 angel?" 
 
 " You may call it thus." 
 
 Yetta remained thoughtful for a few mo- 
 ments. 
 
 "You speak of other worlds, Louis," she 
 soon resumed, wonderingly; " what do you 
 mean b}^ this?" 
 
 t' Every star in the firmament is more or less 
 populated." 
 
 The girl fixed her troubled gaze upon her 
 cousin. 
 
 "The nuns never told me all this," said she, 
 simply. " I was made to believe that there was 
 nothing but gaping nothingness beyond the 
 clouds. Is there no limit to the universe, Louis." 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 41 
 
 "Space is unfettered by measurement. Be- 
 yond this world are others. Above, around — 
 everywhere you may look, a star will always 
 greet your vision. This star is a living world, 
 peopled with beings who, as they glance in our 
 direction, perhaps wonder what is that insignifi- 
 cant speck in the heavens, billions of miles from 
 them." 
 
 " How strange all this is," vaguely observed 
 Yetta. '* I never would have dreamed that 
 such wonderful things existed. What will be- 
 come of all these planets, Louis, when the end 
 of the world comes? Will they all unite in a 
 solid mass, or — or — " 
 
 She stopped short and looked helplessly at 
 the doctor, who smiled at her bewilderment. 
 
 " I — I can not conjecture," she said. " The 
 subject is too deep for me." 
 
 "The world will never come to an end," 
 Louis quietly said. " The earth might be 
 shattered, stars may forsake their courses and 
 crash against each other through space, but 
 there will always be millions left — thousands of 
 new ones created out of their chaos." 
 
 " Matter is then imperishable?" 
 
 "The reconstruction of the universe goes on 
 
42 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 everlastingly. Watch the sky attentively for a 
 few weeks and 3'ou will notice its changeabilit^^ 
 AW around us old worlds are dying out and new 
 ones springing from their ruins. This is evi- 
 denced by the fact that stars which were plainly 
 visible to the naked eye 3'ears ago suddenly dis- 
 appear and are never seen again. The fixed 
 stars that 3-ou admire so much on a radiant 
 night may have been annihilated centuries ago: 
 the light which reaches 3'our vision is sim- 
 pl3^ its beam, which has perhaps been travel- 
 ing through space since its source was shattered 
 C3xles ago. This explains WI13' 3'Ou sometimes 
 see a star suddenh' flare with intensity, then as 
 swifth' die out. It is the tale of a catastrophe 
 which happened long vears ago, ere 3'our great- 
 great-grandparents were born." 
 
 " How frightful !" exclaimed Yetta, pressing- 
 closer to the speaker. '' It makes me shiver to 
 think of all this. Is it reall3' true that all things 
 will never come to an end?" 
 
 " The machiner3' of the universe will never 
 stop. Matter is indestructible: the soul im- 
 mortal. When your heart" s pulsations are stilled 
 and 3'Our lips closed in ic3' immutabilitv, 30ur 
 soul soars through space, speeding on, on, on, 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 43 
 
 until it reaches the throne of the Ever Living, 
 the God who moulded it. It may then be sent 
 to animate a human frame millions — aye, bil- 
 lions — of leagues away, but the time comes 
 w^hen it also abandons this clayey tenement and 
 seeks another habitation. Thus it wanders 
 with ceaseless toil until centuries and centuries 
 pass by and the universe is studded anew with 
 worlds." 
 
 Yetta pressed her hands to her temples. 
 
 "I — I can not countenance it," she faltered. 
 "All this is beyond my comprehension and 
 makes my thoughts whirl as leaves in the grasp 
 of a hurricane." 
 
 She cast down her eyes and was soon lost in 
 meditation. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Now back to the world and let Fate do her worst 
 On the heart that for thee such devotion hath nursed. 
 
 Louis had reached the conclusion that Yetta 
 had this time permanently strayed into dream- 
 land, when she suddenly remarked: 
 
 " I have seriously considered the matter and 
 
44 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 I think it is best we should never marry. As I 
 have not yet taken the veil, the Church would 
 release me from my hasty vow, but I am afraid 
 to be free. I can never have unlimited confi- 
 dence in you. You are too learned in worldly 
 ways. You are an irredeemable inconstant and 
 can never make me happy." 
 
 *' You are evidently losing your temper, my 
 dear," said Louis, amusedl}'. '* Come, let us 
 kiss and 'make up. You know I adore you." 
 
 He put his arm around her waist, but she 
 angrily pushed it away. 
 
 "Do not touch me I" she exclaimed, scorn- 
 lullv. ''This self-same expression you have 
 repeated to as many girls as were foolish 
 enough to listen to you, and the caresses you 
 wish to give me have*been lavished upon wo- 
 men whose features you do not even remember. 
 How can I help doubting your sincerity? I 
 have bared my heart to you, telHng you all my 
 sorrows, yet you look on with pitiless indiffer- 
 ence, turning into ridicule everything I say." 
 
 Louis hesitatingly approached her. She did 
 not repel him, but fixed her troublous eyes re- 
 proachfully upon his face. 
 
 " God knows I do not act thus to pain you," 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 45 
 
 he kindly said. '' You are the most volcanic, 
 most romantic girl I ever met, and I am sure 
 you do not mean half the things you say. The 
 nuns have taught you from girlhood to think 
 that way and you can not help it. When you 
 have seen a little of the world, you will laugh 
 at those fantastic ideas, which one only meets 
 in sensational novels." 
 
 Yetta looked thoughtfully at the speaker, but 
 said nothing. Encouraged, he resumed: 
 
 *'Let us put a stop to this nonsense, Yetta. 
 I love 3^ou sincerely, and life without you would 
 be shorn of all that is sublime in the world." 
 
 Yetta thrust her hand in her bosom and drew 
 forth a small crucifix. 
 
 *^ Kiss this holy cross and swear by the 
 Divinity we both adore that you are serious," 
 she said. 
 
 Louis looked at the earnest girl in speechless 
 wonder. 
 
 **Doyou refuse?" she asked, tremulously. 
 
 The young doctor pressed the sacred metal 
 to his lips. 
 
 "I swear T love you truly," he said, his 
 voice trembling with suppressed emotion. 
 
40 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 '*What further proof do you want? Speak and 
 you will be obeyed." 
 
 Yetta replaced the crucifix in her bosom and 
 said: 
 
 '•I am satisfied, Louis. You may be false- 
 hearted, but I believe you are honorable and 
 would not perjure yourself to please a woman. 
 I love you, but how can I know m}^ passion is 
 lastinor? You are the first man who has ever 
 kissed me, the only one who has talked so 
 strangely sweet to me, and I can not help feeling, 
 for you a fascination which I can not define. 
 Suppose I become your bride and then meet the 
 one I am destined to love unreservedly, what 
 will become of me? I would break your heart 
 and lose my soul forever." She stopped a 
 moment, then resum*ed: '*Letus estrange our- 
 selves for a year. During that time I will 
 go into society? encourage admirers and flirt 
 with whomsoever I fancy. If I love you truly, 
 my heart will remain unchanged; if I am sim- 
 ply infatuated, ^-ou will be saved the humiliation 
 of marrying a woman who cared but lightly 
 for you." 
 
 Louis gazed amazedly at his cousin. Of all 
 her queer notions, this certainly was the most 
 
VETTA, THE NUX. 47 
 
 extraordinary. Surely, true love could never 
 harbor in such a hardened heart. . He had 
 blindly trusted her, feeling certain she cared lor 
 him, and the idea that she was perhaps toying 
 with him made the blood surge through his 
 veins like molten lava. The madcap blood ol 
 his Spanish ancestors made the sting of defeat 
 still more penetrating. He controlled himself, 
 however, and said, in tones he vainly strove to 
 render dispassionate : 
 
 '^You had better become a nun, Yetta. It 
 would be decidedly unwise for you to marry ; 
 you might tire of your husband ere the honey- 
 moon is over and cry for your cherished con- 
 vent." 
 
 He approached nearer to her and continued, 
 getting angrier at every sentence: 
 
 '•Return to your nunnery, misguided girl, 
 and remain there until eternity. Seek salvation 
 in the arms of those pale-faced nuns. Let 
 them pray night and day to remove the stain my 
 caresses have engrafted on your soul. In after 
 years, when the voice which now blanches your 
 cheeks and kindles your eyes with sudden flame 
 is forever hushed, you will perhaps give a sor- 
 rowful thought to the memory of one whose re- 
 
48 ho:maxces of new Orleans. 
 
 jected love your whole soul yearns to recall. 
 When you^ — " 
 
 But the sentence remained unfinished. Her 
 eyes flashing with the fire of wounded pride, 
 Yetta angrily pressed her hand to his mouth, 
 checking his mad-brain speech. She then 
 placed a trembling hand on his arm and said: 
 
 '* I will make you regret those words, impet- 
 uous boy ! I will not return to convent, but will 
 remain to wring your heart with despair and 
 make you idolize me slill more fondly than you 
 now do. I swear by the memory of my saintly 
 ancestors that I love you: but you might im- 
 plore me to marry you a thousand times more 
 madly than you have thus far done— I will never 
 be yours !" 
 
 She attempted to rise, but Louis grasped her 
 arm and compelled her to sit beside him again. 
 
 "You swear you will never marry,'' he ex- 
 claimed in faltering tones. "This is idle talk. 
 imperious girl I You love me, distractedly, and 
 it lies within m}^ power to make you sway to my 
 \\\\\. Youzui'/lhG rtiy wife, I tell you ! I will 
 fan your passion into such soul-consuming 
 fierceness that you will weepingly seek me and 
 implore me on bended knees to assuage your 
 anguish !'" 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 49 
 
 Yetta looked defiantly at him. Pushing him 
 away from her, she quietly arose and walked 
 off. Involuntarily, Louis stretched forth his 
 arms, hoping she would turn back, but she kept 
 firmlv on and soon vanished throusfh the som- 
 bre oaks. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Love, when true, can never die; 
 Sweethearts part, but still they sigh 
 
 From the time of their stormy interview under 
 the Lovers' Oak, the cousins never met without 
 exchanging unkind words. Everywhere they 
 found themselves face to face, they would con- 
 tradict each other on the simplest subjects, 
 smiling pleasantly all the while, but choosing 
 expressions they knew would lacerate the heart 
 at which it was aimed. 
 
 Louis soon felt he was growing into a state of 
 alarming professional uselessness. He lost all 
 interest in medical subjects, his thoughts wan- 
 dering to Yetta or some particular act of annoy- 
 ance he could do her, whenever he began any 
 rational work. He finally resolved to bring 
 4 
 
50 ROMAN'CES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 matters to a crisis. He had tried all he could 
 to make her consent to become his bride and 
 he would now attempt a last ruse — make love to 
 another girl. He knew what a potent factor 
 jealousy was in love. He had proofs that 
 it was a passion which corroded the pur- 
 est hearts and burned a pathway to the 
 deepest recesses of the soul. He no more 
 doubted that Yetta loved him. Often he felt 
 tempted to kneel before her and implore 
 her to ease his anguish; but the demon of pride 
 would stalk before him and chill any conciliatory 
 demonstrations. 
 
 Louis soon had an opportunity to begin 
 carrying his idea into execution. Dr. Alvez's 
 business increasing, he procured the services 
 of an eminent American chemist, Mr. Carleton 
 Hevlin, who was given a suite of rooms in the 
 Doctor's residence. 
 
 Mr. Hevlin was a widower. He had only 
 one child, Lulie, a sweet, blue-eyed lassie of 
 seventeen. 
 
 Of course it seemed perfectly natural that 
 Louis should be amiable with Lulie. Being his 
 guest, it was his duty to see that she was well 
 cared for and felt no restraint in her new home. 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 51 
 
 How well he discharged his task, will be seen 
 later on. 
 
 A strong friendship had sprung between 
 Luhe and Yetta. This at first annoyed Louis 
 and made him doubt the feasibility of his plan, 
 but he rightly concluded that the proud girl kept 
 her secret locked in her breast and Lulie 
 suspected nothing. 
 
 Child that he was to thus trifle with love. 
 His insane wish to render Yetta jealous made 
 him blind to everything. He never gave 
 consideration to the fact that Lulie was 
 young and inexperienced and little suspected 
 what ravages he was working in her trust- 
 ing heart. He merely noticed Yetta's restless 
 look whenever he went out alone with his new 
 love, and smiled contentedly. 
 
 One evening Louis entered the parlor and 
 found only Yetta present. 
 
 "Where's Lulie?" he queried, with feigned 
 annoyance. 
 
 " She is in the garden," replied Yetta, indif- 
 ferently " I can spare your company." 
 
 Louis thoughtfully contemplated his cousin. 
 '« Suppose I find this spot more attractive?" 
 he observed, seating himself near by. 
 
52 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 *' I would leave you in undisputed posses- 
 sion of it," retorted Yetta, walking out of the 
 room. 
 
 ** She is getting paler day by day," mused 
 Louis, a remorseful sensation in his breast. 
 *' But she looks so beautiful when her eyes 
 flash in anger — when her bosom heaves with 
 suppressed emotions and her fingers tremble to 
 clutch and hurt me — that it would be a pity to 
 give up Lulie. You make me suffer, overproud 
 girl, but two can play at that game." 
 
 He repressed a sigh and went in search of 
 Lulie. As he neared the end of the path lead- 
 ing to the summer-house, he perceived her 
 seated at a window, busil}' knitting. She 
 feigned not to have noticed his coming, but her 
 nervousness betrayed her. 
 
 Louis stepped to the window and stood look- 
 ing at her. 
 
 " Cruel girl!" he reproachfully said, pinch- 
 ing her tempting pink ear. 
 
 She gave a cry of joyful surprise. 
 "Is that you, Louis?" she exclaimed. "You 
 came in so noiselessly, I did not hear you." 
 " You are a little story-teller," was the laugh- 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 53 
 
 ing rejoinder. "You did see me coming, and 
 I defy you to look into my face and deny it. 
 Bring that dear head closer that I may kiss those 
 cherub lips." 
 
 " No you won't, " answered Lulie, draw- 
 ing back a little; " I don't think it's nice man- 
 ners." 
 
 Louis moodily w^alked up the steps and sat 
 down in a remote corner. 
 
 "Are you angry?" said Lulie, seating herself 
 near him; ^'I'm sure I said nothing to hurt 
 your feelings." 
 
 " You refused to kiss me," muttered Louis, 
 sadly. 
 
 Lulie laughed merrily. 
 
 " Is that all?" she said; "I do not deny it." 
 
 " And I, who thought myself so w-elcome 
 when I was beside you," sighed the hypocrite. 
 
 Lulie fixed her gaze on the ground. 
 
 " I can not kiss you," she said, lowly. 
 
 Louis looked apprehensively at her. Could 
 Yetta have been opening her eyes to the true 
 state of things? 
 
 *'Why this sudden coolness, LuHe?" he said, 
 uneasily. "See how close my lips are: you 
 
54 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 have mere!}' to turn your head a little to louch 
 them with yours." 
 
 ''It would not be right lor me to do so,'' was 
 the gentle response. "Last night I was count- 
 ing the kisses you had stolen from me, and I 
 did not have enough fingers to check them all. 
 So I resolved to put a stop to these familiar- 
 ities. You might see nothing wrong now, but 
 later on you will say: 'That girl allowed me 
 to kiss her without being engaged to me ; of 
 course I can't marry her.' That's the wa}^ 
 men are." 
 
 She gave a decided toss of her golden 
 curls. Louis felt relieved and smiled at her 
 oddity. 
 
 "You are a grand rascal," he said. "Sup- 
 pose I was 3'our affianced, would you kiss me?', 
 
 "I presume so. That is what people get 
 engaged for. " 
 
 "I do not know how to begin," w^as the 
 mournful plaint. 
 
 "What an absent-minded boy you are I Why, 
 vou have asked me to marry you at least a 
 dozen times in your poems." 
 
 "Poetry and reality are different things." 
 
 "Well, I guess I'll have to teach you." 
 
YETTA, THE NON. 55 
 
 She put aside her work. Louis curiously 
 watched her, but was not allowed a long time 
 for observation. Seating herself with an air of 
 unruffled dignity, the self-appointed preceptor 
 began : 
 
 *«You must first clasp my hand." 
 Louis did so. 
 
 *'Now, look as if you expected the earth was 
 going to swallow you up." 
 
 An agonized expression overspread his counte- 
 nance. 
 
 *' You must now go on your knees before me 
 
 how your hand trembles ! It is not yet time 
 
 to tremble; this comes only after kneehng." 
 
 Louis hesitated. The words he had repeated 
 to Yetta, *' / have never knelt before a woman; 
 I never will,'' rang in his ears. 
 
 " How pale you are, Louis," resumed Lulie. 
 " Kneel before your queen; I promise she will 
 not be tyrannical." 
 
 He obeyed. The vibrations of his heart 
 were painfully irregular; but he looked up into 
 LuHe's smiling face and the pain was somewhat 
 eased. 
 
 *' Now," resumed the gentle autocrat, '* pre- 
 pare for the ordeal. Look as miserable as you 
 
56 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 can and say in trembling tones: ' Miss Hevlin, 
 ever since my gaze rested on your seraphic 
 features I have worshiped you night and day. 
 Consent, O! enchanting miss, to become my 
 bride, or my existence will be an eternity of 
 despair.' " 
 
 Louis repeated the sentence word for word. 
 
 *'Your sentiments find an echoing thrill in 
 my heart, imploring youth," resumed Lube, 
 sweetly bending over her lover. "Assume your 
 customary attitude and be welcome to all the 
 privileges of an affianced." 
 
 Before Louis had time to arise, she playfully 
 passed her arm around his neck and pressed her 
 lips to his. It was a pure, girlish embrace, 
 free from voluptuousness — just the sort of ca- 
 ress one would expect from a mirthful child. 
 This innocent' demonstration of love caused an 
 enthralling sensation to possess the unhappy 
 young doctor. For the first time since parting 
 from Yetta he really felt happ}^ He reasoned 
 that the love of this dear girl would be a greater 
 boon to him than the passion of a convent-bred 
 creature, w^hose untenable way of thinking 
 would always prompt her to render his life mis- 
 erable. 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. - 0/ 
 
 He sat beside Lulie with the old sensation of 
 tranquillity in his breast, and fondly saidi 
 
 *' You do not know, my darling, how happy 
 I am, now that I feel assured you really care for 
 me. Come, let us walk around the garden. 
 The birds will watch us with envious eyes 
 and the heavens will bend over us and bless our 
 happiness. Come, sweetness." 
 
 He arose and extended his hand. Lulie 
 gleefully grasped it and they ran down the steps 
 like madcap children. A pet rabbit of LuHe's, 
 which happened to be peacefully dozing in a 
 corner, looked up in affright at the lovers' sud- 
 den exit and bolted away as fast as its httle legs 
 could carry it. Lulie chased it, but it soon 
 outstripped her and disappeared in the shrub- 
 bery. Ere Louis was aware of it, they had 
 reached the Lovers' Oak and seated themselves 
 beneath its patriarchal boughs. 
 
 Lulie presently observed: 
 
 '' Do you remember that love song you taught 
 me a few weeks ago ? ' ' 
 
 Louis nodded. 
 
 ** Suppose we sing it? " 
 
 '' Just as you say, dearest." 
 
58 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Clasping each other's hands, the lovers sang 
 the following strain: 
 
 SHE AND I. 
 (^Ballad.^ 
 
 We were wooing in the starlight, 
 
 She and I ; 
 We were bidding sweetest good-night 
 
 'Neath the sky. 
 Ah, our hearts were wildly beating. 
 And the future dawned enchanting, 
 As our lips were pressed at parting, 
 
 With a sigh! (^bis.^ 
 
 We were at the altar kneeling, 
 
 She and I ; 
 Angels from above were peeping 
 
 To espy 
 And to watch love's flow'rets springing. 
 As we both began life's morning, 
 Anthems sweet and loving flinging 
 
 To the sky I (^bis.) 
 
 We are seated in the starlight. 
 
 She and I ; 
 We are speaking o'er life's days bright. 
 
 Long gone by. 
 Though lier tresses care has silver'd. 
 And my frame with age is fetter' d. 
 Still our love is deep and treasur'd 
 
 Ne'er to die I {bis.) 
 
YETtA, THE NUX. 59 
 
 As the last echoes of the song finally died 
 out, Louis heard a crackling noise behind him 
 and started to his feet, filled with an undefined 
 apprehension of danger. He glanced uneasily 
 about, but seeing nothing unusual, resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 "How nervous you are," exclaimed Lulie. 
 "It must have been that same little rogue I was 
 chasing a few moments ago. Talk love to me. 
 All your poetry is so fervidly sweet, I am sure 
 you can say such pretty things to the one who 
 is dear to you." 
 
 Louis did not reply. In some inexplicable 
 manner his thoughts had suddenly reverted to 
 Yetta, and he regretted having so rashly be- 
 trothed himself to Lulie. He knew he could 
 never care for her as he did for the strange 
 girl who seemed to have mastered his very 
 soul. Tears filled his eyes and he pressed his 
 hand to his heart to stay its wild pulsations. 
 
 "What is the matter?" said Lulie, wonder- 
 ingl}^ "I am sure I said nothing to make you 
 feel sorry." 
 
 Louis clasped her to him. 
 
 "It is because I adore you above all things, 
 that I act so strangely," he said, deliriously. 
 
60 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 *'Do you know what love is, blue-eyed angel? 
 It is the subhmest, the most princely gift of 
 God to mankind. It assuages grief, thrills the 
 whole world with happiness ! By all I hold 
 sacred, I wnll do my best to make you happy. 
 You are a thousand times purer than those nun- 
 bred images, who come into the world to dis- 
 tress mankind with their lurid views of life." 
 
 Lulie looked at her lover with dilated pupils. 
 
 "How strangely you talk?" she said. "I 
 am almost afraid of you." 
 
 Louis kissed the wondering eyes and con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "You wnll be m}' treasured bride, sweet girl. 
 Here is to bind our hearts. It is the Alvez be- 
 trothal ring. Aye, it has never till this day been 
 the witness of such celestial love." 
 
 He put the heirloom around her finger. Her 
 head fell on his bosom and they remained for a 
 long time gazing into each other's eyes, whisper- 
 ing those tender nothings which onl}^ lovers 
 understand. Lulie suddenly started. 
 
 "How thoughtless of us," she said, fretfully. 
 "We wdll be late for supper and papa wdll scold. 
 I must run to my room and fix up. Kiss me, 
 quick." 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 61 
 
 Louis obeyed and Lulie ran down the path. 
 She stopped when a few feet away, detached a 
 rose which nestled in her hair, and threw it to 
 him, saying: 
 
 "Keep this in memory of to-night." 
 Louis picked up the flower and placed it near 
 his heart. As he did so, he heard the same 
 noise which had aroused him while singing with 
 Lulie. He looked furtively about and faintly 
 made out the silhouette of a human form flitting 
 between the trees. He started in pursuit, but 
 the misleading twilight had now melted into the 
 darker shades of night and he could no longer 
 discern anything. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 While my pulses thrill and quiver, 
 Thou shalt not enclasp another. 
 
 Louis felt nervous at the recurrence of the 
 mysterious noise and remained for a long time 
 lost in meditation. 
 
 "Pooh! it's onl3Mmagination," he reasoned; 
 "my nerves are unstrung, and I would not be 
 surprised to find a couple of ghosts waiting for 
 me in my room." 
 
62 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 He went to his apartment, refreshed himself, 
 and repaired to the sitting-room. Yetta was 
 reading, but Lahe was not in her accustomed 
 place. The young doctor glanced inquiringly 
 about. 
 
 '* Miss Hevlin has retired to her room," ob- 
 served Yetta, answering his look; "She does 
 not feel well to-night." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that Lulie is ill?" 
 asked Louis, anxiously. 
 
 "A slight indisposition," answered Yetta, 
 carelessly; "she probably caught cold in the 
 garden. The air is quite chilly to-night. This 
 will give you the opportunity of spending the 
 evening in my company, a luxury which you 
 have not enjoyed for a long time. Sit beside 
 me and chat a little. I am in high spirits to- 
 night." 
 
 She smilingly put aside her book. 
 
 " I thank you ver}^ much," said Louis, coldly; 
 "I prefer going to the club." 
 
 Yetta arose and placed a detaining hand on 
 his arm. 
 
 " Why are you so rude?" she reproachfully 
 said. " It is no reason because we do not love 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 63 
 
 that we should be enemies for Hfe. Let us be 
 friends from to-night." 
 
 She looked pleadingly into his face. The 
 young man's undefended heart was powerless 
 against such an unexpected attack. The old 
 love burned in his breast with frenetic ardor; 
 Lulie was instantly forgotten. 
 
 " Let us sit on this sofa," said Yetta. *'It is 
 much more comfortable than those high-backed 
 chairs." 
 
 Louis obeyed. Taking Yetta' s hand in his, 
 he tremulously said: 
 
 •'Why do you care for my company to-night, 
 Yetta? You who have been so cruel, so unre- 
 lenting in your harshness ! Tell me, sweet girl, 
 why your cheeks are as pink as roses and your 
 eyes shine with unusual lustre to-night? Mad- 
 caps that we are to allow the golden hours to 
 slip heedlessly by. Rest your head on my 
 bosom, dearest, and tell me you adore me with 
 as much fervency as I do you." 
 
 He passed his arm around her neck and drew 
 her to him. For a moment she remained in 
 his arms, then slowly freed herself. 
 
 "Do you love only me-?" she asked, sud- 
 denly. 
 
64 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " I swear it," was the fond answer. 
 
 ** And Lulie?" 
 
 Louis felt the blood receding from his face. 
 
 "Lulie?" he faltered. 
 
 " Yes, Lulie," emphasized Yetta, her eyes 
 flashing. "If you love me only, why does the 
 mere mention of that name frighten you?" 
 
 Louis had now regained his self-control. 
 
 "Well, that is a good one," he laughingly 
 observed. "Jealous of that little blue-eyed 
 doll-baby! I never gave her a moment's seri- 
 ous thought, dear. I was flirting with her just 
 to tease you." 
 
 Yetta took up a small Bible near by and 
 handed it to Louis, saying : 
 
 " Swear on this that you love me better than 
 Lulie." 
 
 Louis raised the book to his lips. 
 
 " I swear— My God, look!' 
 
 The Bible fell to the floor and his senses 
 reeled. He had suddenly caught sight of Lulie, 
 who was seated near the door and gazing va- 
 cantly about, as if incapable of crediting her 
 senses. 
 
 Yetta looked contemptuously at her lover. 
 
 " What new lies will vou now invent," said 
 
VfeTTA, THE NUN. 6.1 
 
 slie, hotly. " When she ran away from you and 
 you h3^pocritically pressed the rose she threw you 
 to your heart, I followed her, resolved to tell her 
 the truth. I asked her to come to my room after 
 supper and there I told her of your rascality. 
 She indignantly defended you, but I gradually 
 opened her eyes, and she tremblingly surrendered 
 the ring which only those of our blood have thus 
 far worn. Together we came to this room, and 
 when she heard your footsteps, I told her to 
 hide behind the door and she would see what a 
 knave you were. See how distracted she looks — 
 every word we uttered has pierced her trusting 
 heart. Go and soothe her with additional false- 
 hoods." 
 
 She pushed him toward Lulie with such pas- 
 sionate force that he would have fallen had he 
 not steadied himself by grasping a chair. Dur- 
 ing Yetta's angry speech, Lulie had remained 
 immovable; she now pressed both her hands to 
 her heart, gave a choking sob and would have 
 fallen to the floor had* not Louis caught her in 
 his arms. 
 
 "Get a glass of water, Yetta, quick!" he 
 cried, wildly. 
 
 Yetty glanced scornfully at him. 
 5 
 
66 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " You claim to be a doctor," said she; "you 
 can spare my assistance.'' Then, changing her 
 tone to one of exquisite sweetness: "You love 
 me better than Lulie, do you not, Louis?" 
 
 She bent over him, a strange look in her 
 eyes. His heart gave a great bound to meet her 
 own and his whole frame quivered with emo- 
 tion. He felt like abandoning Lulie and rush- 
 ing into the aims of the girl he adored. But 
 the nerveless hand resting in his felt so cold, the 
 pallid face looked so pitiful, he turned his head 
 away and said, in tones which involuntarily 
 trembled: 
 
 "I wish you would stop this foolishness, 
 Yetta. Give me a little help, and this poor girl 
 will soon open her eyes." 
 
 He kissed Lulie's brow and caressingly 
 smoothed her golden curls. Something flashed 
 and he looked up to discover what it was. The 
 sight which met his gaze froze his blood to icy 
 coldness. Yetta stood staring at Lulie, her eyes 
 aflame with unconcealed hatred, a bejeweled 
 poignard in her hand. 
 
 Louis sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Yetta," he moaned, " are you mad?" 
 
 "It is not for yoii, coward," replied Yetta, 
 pushing him aside. 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 67 
 
 She swiftly raised the poi^^nard and attempted 
 to phinge it into Liilie's bosom. Louis threw 
 himself across the girl's body. The glittering 
 blade pierced his breast a few inches below the 
 heart, buried to the hilt. A mist passed over 
 his eves and he lost consciousness. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Thou hast called me thy angel in moments of bliss, 
 And thy angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this." 
 
 For months after the events narrated in the 
 preceding chapter, Louis hovered between 
 death and insanity. Night and day he raved 
 about Yetta, imploring her to forgive him and 
 begofinpf her to come back to him. Sometimes 
 he imagined that she relented and was bending 
 over him with smiling lips, murmuring soothing 
 phrases. When he held out his arms, her eyes 
 would instantly flash with the fire of hate, she 
 would become restless and menacing, and flee 
 from him with a cry of horror. 
 
 When he finally recovered his faculties and 
 was able to resume the practice of his profes- 
 
08 ROMAXCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 sion, Louis was no more the flighty, debonair 
 youth of old. His features were care-worn 
 and sunken, his erst jet-black hair sprinkled 
 w^ith gray, and an expression of settled sadness 
 glowered in his eyes. 
 
 Lulie was kind to the invalid during his con- 
 valescence, but gradually estranged herself 
 from him as he became stronger. She now- 
 felt only indifference for the one she thought 
 she could love forever, and pitied him. Hers 
 had been a momentary passion — a vounir Sfirl's 
 first love, and she experienced neither pain nor 
 regret that her dream had vanished. 
 
 No one spoke of Yetta and Louis dared not 
 mention her n-ame. He had a vague premoni- 
 tion that the walls of St. Veronica Convent en- 
 tombed her, and many were the anathemas he 
 heaped upon that institution. 
 
 One fateful day, while reading Le Courrier 
 de la Loidsiane, Louis came across an article 
 headed ^'Taking the Veil," and carelessly 
 perused it. But something tugged at his heart 
 and the paper fell from his grasp when he 
 came to this paragraph : 
 
 •'Among those who became the Brides of 
 Christ was Miss Yetta Delric, of this city. 
 
YETTA, THE NUX. 
 
 69 
 
 She will be known in religion as Sister Dolores. 
 The young lady is a niece of our eminent phy- 
 sician, Dr. Carlos Alvez." 
 
 ''Lost forevermore !" Louis passionately 
 cried. "O God! What have I done to be 
 accursed w^ith a hopeless love in the prime of 
 
 life." 
 
 He buried his face between his hands and 
 
 sobbed like a child. 
 
 "She is not lost tome," he exclaimed, rising. 
 "Though I have to tear her away from the arms of 
 those accursed nuns, she will yet be my bride." 
 He went to his desk and wrote a long letter 
 to Yetta, beseeching her to grant him an inter- 
 views He bribed one of the maids employed 
 about the Convent, who promised to deliver 
 his message with the utmost secrecy and to 
 bring an answer that same evening. She was 
 faithful to her promise— but her message was 
 verbal and conveyed the intelligence that Sister 
 Dolores was lost to the world forever and sent 
 her cousin a crucifix as a parting souvenir. 
 
 Louis recogrfized the little cross which had 
 been a silent witness of his ardent vow to Yetta, 
 and he dashed it to the ground. As he turned 
 to go, he met the astonished gaze of his mes- 
 senger. 
 
70 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 "What the -deuce are you gaping at?" he said, 
 impatiently. "I thought you were miles away." 
 
 "I was waiting," was the sententious reply. 
 
 '•Waiting for what? Am I still your debtor?" 
 
 ''Monsieur will pardon me. I thought he 
 wanted \.o j>e7' severe.^' 
 
 She made a feint of going. A gleam of hope 
 flashed across the horizon of despair. 
 
 "Wait," said Louis, eagerly. "You have 
 given me an idea." 
 
 He drew forth the memorandum book in 
 which he usually wrote his prescriptions and 
 scribbled the following lines: 
 
 "Yetta — At half-past twelve to-night I will 
 scale the wall of 3^our convent and wait for you 
 under the oak which stands a few feet from the 
 entrance. If 3'ou do not meet me there, I will 
 seek 3^ou in your cell. Louis." 
 
 He :{olded this and handed it to the impassive 
 girl, who all the time had kept her eyes fixed 
 on the ground. 
 
 "Be careful that the nuns do not see this," 
 he said, in admonitory tones. 
 
 "Monsieur can rely upon my discretion," 
 rephed the girl, bowing. She mechanically 
 thrust the note into her bosom and was in the 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 71 
 
 act of walking away, when Louis detained her 
 with this remark: 
 
 "Are you also going to become a nun.''" 
 
 The blue eyes flashed angrily. 
 
 *«No, indeed; I hate them," was the un- 
 looked-for reply. 
 
 " You do not prove it," said Louis, laughing. 
 
 ''On the contrary, Monsieur," answered the 
 girl, mischievously. " Do you think they would 
 feel glad were they to be apprised of what I am 
 doing for you? Ha, ha, ha! You do not know 
 all the tricks I play them." 
 
 She bowed effusively and walked off, merrily 
 singing one of Beranger's arias. Louis turned 
 his steps homeward with a hopeful heart, whist- 
 hng the tune his sprightly messenger was chant- 
 ing- 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come ; 
 They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb." 
 
 The second week of December, 1826, prom- 
 ised to be a gala one for music-loving New Or- 
 leans. Two new plays were to be performed 
 lor the first time at the Orleans Theatre: The 
 
i2 ROMAN'CES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 JVew Lord of the Villas^e, by Favieres and Bey- 
 eldier, and An Hour of Matrimony^ by Etienne 
 and Dela3''rac. These were to be followed by 
 a one-act vaudeville from Scribe's prolific pen, 
 A Visit to Bedlam. 
 
 When the hour advertised for the beginning 
 of the performance drew near, every available 
 spot was filled by an expectant crowd; it seemed 
 that the whole city had turned out to do homage 
 to the triple bill. 
 
 A remarkable incident was noted by all and 
 commented upon in whispers with pro- 
 found amazement — young Dr. Alvez was 
 present I For the first time in many months 
 he was seen gaily chatting with the ladies, 
 exchanging witticisms with their escorts, 
 and criticising timely topics. As the even- 
 ing wore on, it was observed that he was 
 one of the foremost in encouraging meritorious 
 artists as well as the first to hiss whenever a 
 bad break was made. 
 
 When the curtain fell, Dr. Louis Alvez sud- 
 denly disappeared. He had agreed to accom- 
 pany certain frolicsome young fellows to a 
 midnight supper with several feminine members 
 of the troupe, and was eagerly searched for — 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 73 
 
 but in vain. As his carriage was also missing, 
 it was concluded that he had gone on a gallant 
 adventure'with a dashing soubrette he had vocif- 
 erously applauded and clandestinely ogled 
 whenever she appeared on the stage. Such 
 feats were common among the gilded youth of 
 those days and excited very little attention, 
 except if it reached the ears of some doting 
 mamma or jealous sweetheart, when the cul- 
 prit would be severely reprimanded and only 
 pardoned on his solemn promise not to sin 
 again. Hence, the 3'oung doctor's convivial 
 friends having reached the conclusion that he 
 w^as perfectly satisfied, wherever he was, re- 
 paired gaily to the festal hall and soon forgot 
 all about the absentee. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 It lacked a few minutes to midnight. The 
 motly crowd which had poured from the Or- 
 leans Theatre, half an hour before, highly 
 pleased with the plays presented, had sought 
 their^respectiv^e homes — except those who made 
 it a point, during the Carnival season, to seek 
 repose only when night ushered morning. But 
 the patter of hurrying feet, the whirring noise 
 of the carriages and the indescribable tumult 
 
74 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 incidental to such occasions, had died away, to 
 be revived the next night with the self-same 
 abandon and gayety. 
 
 Sixty-four years ago, our principal streets 
 were far from being the well-paved, brilliantly 
 lighted thoroughfares of to-day. Where arc 
 and incandescent lights now dazzle the sight, 
 were ungainly oil-lamps, swinging and creak- 
 ing from the ends of cross-arms nailed upon 
 some convenient tree. As will be surmised, 
 this gave a very uncertain light, which was ex- 
 tinguished whenever an unusually frisky breeze 
 came whizzing around the corners. 
 
 The sidewalks were also very unreliable, be- 
 ing merely hardened ashes, oscillating planks 
 or — more often — the virgin soil, over which 
 pedestrians walked with doleful forebodings. 
 People seldom ventured out on foot after sun- 
 down, or, if they were compelled to do so, were 
 preceded by slaves carrying enormous lanterns. 
 
 On that special night, nearly all the lamps 
 had succumbed to the impetuous force of the 
 wind. The darkness was intense, objects being 
 undistinguishable a few inches distant. Un- 
 mindful of this cheerless aspect, a man hurried 
 along Esplanade avenue, guided by the feeble 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 'O 
 
 rays of a spultering lantern he held aloft. He 
 stumbled several times, but kept on with una- 
 bated energy. He soon reached Bourbon 
 street, into which he turned, and walked briskly 
 forward. When a few feet from Peace street, 
 his foot caught in the roots of a tree and he 
 was thrown violently to the ground, the lantern 
 dashing itself to pieces against the trunk of a 
 tree.* With some effort — for the fall had con. 
 siderably unnerved him— the wayfarer regained 
 his feet and proceeded with more caution, press- 
 ing his hand to his side and tottering like an 
 
 aged man. 
 
 Few would have recognized Louis Ah^ez in 
 diat lagging figure — the youth who had been so 
 sprightly, so joyous, less than an hour before. 
 Aye! few could have identified that distorted- 
 colorless face to be the erst mirthful countenance 
 of the young doctor, whose presence had caused 
 so much excitement at the old Orleans Theatre, 
 
 Dr. Alvez had now reached the entrance 
 and stood before the frowning walls of St. 
 Veronica Convent, which loomed up like a 
 fortress. He looked about for a suitable place 
 to jump over, and was in the act of attempting 
 
 ~*Asliattered lantern was found at this spot the day after Dr. Alvez's 
 disappearance. G. A, 
 
76 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 the feat, when a light suddenly flared around 
 the Union street angle of the wall. The ill- 
 starred lover hastily clambered down and hid 
 behind a tree. 
 
 "Some cursed patrolman making his rounds," 
 he muttered. "Those nuisances are always 
 prowling about when not needed." 
 
 The lantern was rapidly coming nearer and 
 Louis apprehensively crouched in the shadow 
 of the tree. Just as it was about to pass b3s 
 the light came to a standstill and he thought 
 himself discovered. 
 
 "I can certainly make no tangible explana- 
 tion of my presence," he resumed, placing a 
 hand on the butt of his revolver. "I have suf- 
 fered too much to be baffled. Good God, how 
 my wound hurts to-night !" 
 
 He was about stepping from his concealment, 
 when the lantern suddenly leaped into the air, 
 described a semi-circle, and forthwith went 
 out. A smothered "All right," came from 
 within the enclosure, the gate noiselessly swung 
 open, and a white form tripped out. 
 
 "At last, my Popotte !" 
 
 The voice belonged to the swinger of the lan- 
 tern. 
 
VettA, the nun. // 
 
 " How late you are, mon bijou^'' was the rat- 
 tling response. "Come, we must hurry. The 
 gay cavalier I was telling you about — Sister Do- 
 lores' beau — will soon be around, and we might 
 scare him. He is a good customer, and I don't 
 care to lose him. I wonder how he is going to 
 jump these walls, though? If he doesn't get 
 cut to pieces by the broken bottles, he'll surely 
 be cau^t by one of the traps. Ah, mon cher, 
 there will be a sensation worth talking about 
 when morning dawns. . . . What are you 
 loitering here for? Let us go. Re-light your 
 lantern, you clumsy darling! " 
 
 Louis recognized the French maid's voice. 
 The mysterious manoeuvres of the lantern-bearer 
 were now^ clear: he was her lover, and the twain 
 were going off to some midnight masquerade. 
 Greatly relieved, the doctor stepped forward. 
 The young girl gave a startled cry and clung to 
 her companion, who would undoubtedly have 
 fled had she not resorted to this stratagem. 
 
 "Don't be afraid," said the intruder, re- 
 assuringly. " I simply want Popotte to unlock 
 that adamantine barrier for me. Be quick, 
 girl!" 
 
 Popotte glanced at her lover, who nodded 
 
78 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 affirmatively without the least hesitation. The 
 girl then unlocked the gate and Louis walked 
 in. He heard the door cre-.ik as it swung 
 shut again; Popotte's ceaseless babbling 
 sounded fainter and fainter — he was now 
 alone on the forbidden soil. He guardedly 
 struck a ligrht and looked at his watch. Twenty- 
 five minutes past twelve ! Surely, Yetta must 
 be there. He peered eagerly about, but could 
 discern nothing. He waited, and soon heard 
 the half-hour bell tolling from the convent 
 chapel. Still she did not appear. The three- 
 quarter bell struck — no Yetta. 
 
 " It looks as if she wants to defy me," mut- 
 tered Louis, pacing nervously about. "An 
 Alvez never retrogrades." 
 
 He advanced resolutel}' toward the darksome 
 building. A hand was laid on his arm and a 
 voice he adored tremulously faltered: 
 
 "I am here, insane boy: Speak lowly or we 
 will be overheard and the nuns will kill you — 
 kill us both. I knew 3^ou were mad enough to 
 carry out your threat and obeyed your sum- 
 mons. I — I — " 
 
 She burst into choking sobs. In a second, 
 Louis was fondling her in his arms and the 
 
YETTA, THE NUN. 79 
 
 beatings of her outspent heart once more con- 
 fessed a love which ages could never obliterate. 
 
 They sought a bench near by, lest the nuns 
 should overhear them. They sat very close to- 
 gether, so close that Louis could feel h.er warm 
 breath fanning his cheek and see her eyes 
 shining through the gloom, like twin-stars on a 
 radiant night. 
 
 What mad things they must have murmured 
 on that fateful night! How blissful they must 
 have felt, huddled against each other, heedless 
 of the fleeting hours ! It was only when they 
 heard the twitter of the birds and saw the dark- 
 ness gradually blending with the whitish light 
 of morn that their thoughts returned to earth. 
 
 Louis pressed a fervid kiss on Yetta's lips. 
 
 *' We must now part, my darhng," he faltered. 
 
 The girl threw herself in his arms. 
 
 " Take me with 3^ou ! " she cried, deliriously. 
 '*I adore you more than my God — take me away 
 from this awful place, which fetters my body, 
 but can not restrain the leapings of my heart ! 
 Let us seek some remote corner of the globe, 
 where you will make me your bride." She 
 stopped 'short and buried her face in her hands. 
 *'No, no ! that can never be," she moaned. **No 
 
8D ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 priest will marry a nun who has proved faithless 
 to her vows. Go, leave me to expiate the wrong 
 I did you." 
 
 She caught his head between her hands, 
 repeatedly kissed him, and darted away. He 
 sprang after her, but fell back with a groan. 
 In a moment, she was again beside him. 
 
 *'I tell you we must part," she wildly ex- 
 claimed. "Be courageous, m}^ — is — is this 
 blood?" 
 
 "My wound — has — broken — out," gasped 
 the youth. "Kiss — me — farewell, — Yetta." 
 
 He caught her hand to press it to his lips, but 
 it fell from his nerveless grasp. Yetta swiftly 
 drew a bejeweled poignard from her bosom, 
 ripped open her lover's garments, and tried to 
 stay the flow of blood with her hand. She felt 
 the heart-throbs becoming fainter and less reg- 
 ular, a slight tremor shook the pain-tossed 
 frame — all was over. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Popotte returned from her escapade half an 
 hour later. She noiselessly slipped in and was 
 horrified to see two bodies lying side by side 
 near the entrance. Her screams soon aroused 
 the nuns, who came trooping out like ghouls 
 
VETTA, TlIK NUN. 81 
 
 and viewed with liorretil hair the ghastly 
 spectacle. 
 
 As a poignard was found buried in Sister 
 Dolores' breast, it was surmised she had first 
 stabbed her lover and then killed herself. 
 
 The bodies were buried within the Convent 
 grounds, and to this day the young doctor's dis- 
 appearance has been a conjectural mystery. 
 
 THE END, 
 
LULETTE 
 
LULETTE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The widely-known cotton house of Margins 
 & Co. had collapsed. Harold Mouques, who 
 had hut recently been promoted from clerk to 
 chief book-keeper of the seemingly prosperous 
 concern, found his air-castles totally demol- 
 ished. He naturally felt moody and surly as 
 he sat in his drawing-room the morning follow- 
 ing the failure, glancing at the schedule of the 
 hrm published in the newspapers. 
 
 " I think I'll take Knouril's advice and turn 
 my back on this city," he mused, half aloud. 
 " I have a httle cash laid aside and I might just 
 as well lose it in the Old World.'" 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket and took out a 
 letter, which he read carefully over. The con- 
 cluding hues were thus : 
 
 "India is the best place for investing your 
 capital just now. Look at me, for instance. 
 Five years ago I came here with very little 
 
86 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 money; to-day I am the head of a firm known 
 throughout the globe. The best thing you can 
 do is to join me. I'll give you a cordial Hft in 
 memory of old days. John Knourii.." 
 
 Harold smiled contentedly and replaced the 
 letter in his pocket. That same week, he 
 made up his mind to follow his friend's advice, 
 and before the end of the month was on his way 
 to India. When he arrived at Calcutta, he had no 
 difficulty in finding the house of Knouril & Co., 
 famed throughout the world as dealers in 
 precious stones, and was warmly welcomed by 
 its chief. 
 
 Knouril's prosperous career read like a ro- 
 mance. A few years previously, he had sud- 
 denly left New Orleans, without even a word 
 of parting to his friends. No explanations 
 could be given for this strange freak. A few 
 months afterward, he had written to his old 
 college-mate, Harold Mouques, telling him of 
 his arrival at Calcutta and vowdng never to re- 
 turn to Louisiana. He gave no reasons for his 
 action, and, although the friends had regularly- 
 corresponded since, the mystery remained un- 
 solved. 
 
 Shortly after his arrival, Knouril induced 
 Harold to buy an interest in his firm. The 
 
LULETTK. ^' 
 
 business prospered wonderfully, the two friends 
 linally buying out the other partners. 
 
 One morning Knouril seemed low-spirited 
 and uneasy, paying little attention to what 
 transpired about him. Upon being questioned 
 by Harold, he observed : 
 
 " I had a bad dream last night, old man." 
 '^Is that all?" was the laughing remark. 
 '•You are supersensitive this morning." 
 
 " I know it's womanish of me to be thus,' but 
 I can't help feeling rattled. Evil is brooding 
 somewhere." 
 
 ''What did you dream about?" 
 "Home," was the reply, given in such 
 pathetic accents that Harold glanced wonder- 
 ingly at his friend. 
 
 '' You seem surprised at my tenderness," re- 
 sumed Knouril, sadly smihng. 
 
 "Of course I am. I thought you the most 
 unromantic man on earth." 
 
 "I have a heart, Harold. I thought it was 
 of marble, but the remembrance of a woman's 
 loving face sufficed to make its old wound bleed 
 afresh." 
 
 '• What in the world are you talking about?" 
 
88 ROMAXCES OF XEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Knouril drew a chair neaip his own and said : 
 
 " Sit here and I'll tell you all. Vou are my 
 chum, my partner, and ought to know every- 
 thing about my life. Do you remember how 
 suddenly I left New Orleans?" 
 
 "Yes, especially when you had but recently 
 graduated from the Tulane Medical College. 
 Everybody said you were cranky at the time.'" 
 
 "Thanks. But let me tell vou my stor}' : 
 As you may perhaps remember, I intended 
 sailing for Europe to complete my studies with 
 an uncle in Berlin, who is a man of note there. 
 A few^ weeks before the time set for my de- 
 parture, at a ball given at the Theatre de 
 rOpera, I met a young girl —the prettiest and 
 most enthrallin^r creature I had ever seen. I 
 will call her Lulette. It was a case of love at 
 first sight. I went wild over her: her eyes 
 spoke her heart-thoughts. The day for my de- 
 parture drew near. I formulated innumerable 
 excuses for postponing same, but father pos- 
 itively refused to allow further delay. I in- 
 sisted, and finally told him I would not go at all 
 if he did not do as I wanted. We are a hot- 
 headed family, Harold. When w^e desire an}'- 
 thing. naught can turn us back. Father and I 
 
I.Uf.ETTE. 8& 
 
 quarreled, he strudk me — I retaliated. God 
 forgive me, but it was not my fault." 
 
 He bowed his head and a tear coursed down 
 liis cheek. 
 
 '•The rest is soon told," he resumed, with 
 some effort. •• The incident was carefully 
 locked in our breasts and the world never heard 
 of it. But I could not endure to face father 
 day by day with the remembrance of that fatal 
 blow o-nawinor at mv heart. Without even tell- 
 ins Lulette — then mv fiancee — farewelL I left 
 the city of my birth and buried myself here. 
 God knows I have suffered enough to atone for 
 my sin." 
 
 Before Harold* could frame a reply, a mes- 
 senger rushed in and handed him a cablegram. 
 He glanced at the superscription and said: 
 
 •' It is addressed to 3^ou personally, John." 
 
 Knouril's face became as pale as a corpse. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, tear it open and read," 
 he frroaned. 
 
 Harold obeyed. The contents were thus: 
 
 '- Come home immediately. Father danoer- 
 ously ill. A sksfor you . 
 
 *' Marcel Knouril.' 
 
90 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Knouril pressed both Iftnds to his forehead 
 and moaned. 
 
 " I knew it — I knew it," he said, in tones of 
 pitiful despair. 
 
 "What are you going to do about it?" asked 
 his sympathizing friend. 
 
 " The steamship leaves to-morrow; so do I." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A month after Knouril" s departure, his part- 
 ner recei\ed the following note, hurriedly 
 penned : 
 
 "Dear Old Pal: Pardon my reprehensible 
 silence. To tt^ll the truth, I am so happy I 
 can think of nothing but Lulette. Just think 
 of it, old man, we will be married next month ! 
 As I want you to dance at our wedding, leave 
 the business in the hands of Letimlorn. He is 
 competent and reliable in every respect. Fuller 
 particulars when we meet. Johx." 
 
 "Not a word about his father," thought 
 Harold. "I presume the old gentleman re- 
 covered, but John ought to have curbed his 
 ecstacies for awhile to let me know how matters 
 stood. Poor fellow I His head is completely 
 
I.ULETTK. 91 
 
 turned by his old 4ove. Catch me getting luny 
 just because a woman smiles for me. Ugh !" 
 
 He curled his lips contemptuously and re- 
 sumed his office duties. If he could only have 
 pushed aside the veil which hides the future 
 from mortal gaze ! 
 
 Within a week, Harold settled the most im- 
 portant transactions of the firm and had the 
 necessary documents drawn up empowering the 
 head clerk of the house, Stephen Letimlorn, to 
 represent Knouril & Co. without reservation. 
 He then took passage on board a steamship 
 bound for Havre, which place he reached just 
 in time to engage a cabin on the Fletcr-de-Lys, 
 the champion vessel of the French Transatlantic 
 Line, plying between Havre and New York. 
 
 On board the Fleur-de-Lys Harold became 
 acquainted with the charming Louisianian, Miss 
 Mirelle Arcos, whose final destination also 
 proved to be New Orleans. The young people 
 soon became fast friends, and, as the voyage 
 lengthened— well, it is the same, sweet, old 
 story. 
 
 The Fleiir-de-Lys was a strongly built, iron- 
 plated steamship, under the command of Capt. 
 Alcide Ramie, an experienced French navigator. 
 
92 ROMAXCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 She was the first iron merchant-vessel to cross 
 the Atlantic and was considered the safest and 
 fastest craft afloat. 
 
 Nothing of note happened until the coast of 
 New Foundland was reached, where the vessel 
 came upon a water-logged Norwegian barque. 
 Capt. Ramie took care of her crew, who were 
 nearly famished. The master of the barque 
 reported having been wrecked by icebergs and 
 warned the seamen to keep a sharp look-out. 
 
 Capt. Ramie burst into a hearty laugh at this 
 caution. 
 
 ''Icebergs?'" he said, contemptuously. "This 
 is not a bath-tub. Why, man, we can steam 
 right through a mountain of ice as high and 
 thick as the Great St. Bernard and come out 
 unharmed !" 
 
 A boast which was assuredly -monumental, 
 but the gallant tar spoke with such earnestness 
 that the passengers and crew applauded unani- 
 mously. 
 
 The next day and the one following, the ves- 
 sel steamed through numberless floes, which 
 crashed and bumped against its iron sides. 
 Huge icebergs were observed in the distance, 
 but no one felt any apprehension. The FleuT' 
 
I.ULETTE. 93 
 
 de-lys was proof against such insignificant 
 obstructions and kept on her course unfettered 
 by their presence. 
 
 Evening came. A thick mist arose, envel- 
 oping the ship in a veil of impenetrable thick- 
 ness. As regularly as the ticks of a faithful 
 clock, the fog-whistle echoed its notes of warn- 
 ing, increasing in tone and frequency as the 
 mist became thicker and more chilling. 
 
 '' I've never seen such a fog since I've been 
 on the Atlantic," remarked the Norwegian 
 captain, as he gazed [ominously around. " It 
 is a bad sign, especially at this season of the 
 year." 
 
 The passengers Avere all grouped about the 
 deck when this remark was made. It had the 
 effect of putting a sudden check to their laugh- 
 ing chats and each looked at the other in un- 
 feigned apprehensiveness. 
 
 ''Yes," continued the speaker, "a ship rarely 
 reaches port under such circumstances. I've 
 been navigating the seas for forty years, and 
 knovv what Fam talking about." 
 
 He then proceeded to narrate innumerable 
 yarns to prove his assertion and recited dismal 
 passages from ''The Ancient Mariner." There 
 
94 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 was not a soul who felt comfortable when he 
 concluded. Even jolly Capt. Ramie, though 
 he kept on boasting of the immunity of his ship 
 from peril, looked ill at ease and paced the deck 
 with nervous foot-falls. 
 
 Miss Arcos and Harold remained outside for 
 a long time after the other passengers had re- 
 tired, listening to the swashing of the waves and 
 the groaning of the ponderous machinery. 
 
 It was long after midnight when the lovers 
 separated. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 About half an hour after retiring to his 
 cabin, Harold awoke with a start and looked 
 wildly about. Everything was tranquil and he 
 turned over to resume his sleep. But this was 
 impossible. Ever}' moment he would be star- 
 tled by some noise or other and would sit up- 
 right in bed, fancying that the sea was already 
 swirling into his stateroom. Midnight tolled. 
 He softly arose, lit a match, and cautiously 
 opened the door. All was quiet, He crept 
 ^^nto bed, but could not sleep. At last, despair- 
 ing of mastering his fears, he noiselessly slipped 
 
LULETTi:. [)0 
 
 out of the cabin and sought the sitting-room. 
 It was deserted, but a cheery blaze flickered in 
 the stove. He lit a cigar and sat beside the 
 fire, smoking and dozing alternately. 
 
 *' Crash!" 
 
 The huge ship quivered from bow to stern 
 and Harold felt himself thrown to the floor, 
 stunned, surprised, bewildered. 
 
 ^*Crash! C-r-a-s-h !" 
 
 A succession of terrific shakings, followed 
 by the hissing of steam, the sounding of bells 
 and gongs, and the shrill notes of the whistle 
 of distress. The passengers rushed out of 
 their staterooms and the scene became a verita- 
 ble pandemonium. Men and women screamed 
 and fought madly for the right of way; chil- 
 dren wailed and were trampled unmercifully, 
 smothered to death by the very ones from 
 whom they sought succor. 
 
 Captain Ramie did superhuman efforts to 
 quell the deadly stampede. 
 
 "Stop, you fools!" he yelled. ''There's 
 not the slightest clanger. We only struck a 
 small chunk of ice." 
 
 But his words were unheeded. He might 
 just as well have tried to stop the inflow of the 
 
96 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 icy waters, which were rapidly <;aining the 
 mastery. 
 
 -Flash:" 
 
 The lurid sionals of distress illumed the dark- 
 ness for a few seconds, tinging the overhanging 
 clouds a dull red, death-boding hue. 
 
 •' Boom 1 Boom?'" 
 
 The cannons shrieked out their thunderous 
 affright, blending their noise with the groans of 
 the maddened mass of humanity, which strug- 
 gled and squirmed about, hardly knowing what 
 they w^ere doing. 
 
 " Hue-r-r-r-r-r ! Rowr-r-r-r-r ru-r-r-r !" 
 
 The awful notes of the whistle of distress 
 stilled the beatings of the quavering hearts. But 
 it finally died out. The waters rushed in and 
 extinguihhed the fires: men and women fought 
 no more, but stood as if paralyzed, awaiting 
 their doom. 
 
 " I've been navio-atin^- the seas foii forty 
 vears,'* Harold heard a feeble voice gasp. " I 
 knew what I was talking about.'' 
 
 Just then the vessel gave a lurch, oscillating 
 like a boulder about to crash into an untathomed 
 precipice, and the merciless waters swirled 
 about her. She stood still for a few seconds, 
 
LUI.ETTE. 97 
 
 then plunged beneath the surface, carrying in 
 her wake the screaming mass, which despair- 
 ingly clung to the creaking timbers, imploring 
 in vain to be saved. 
 
 Harold felt himself going down, down, down 
 with frightful velocity; then he suddenly 
 stopped and was shot toward the surface. He 
 deliriously grasped at a floating piece of furni- 
 ture, and — 
 
 " I say, young gentleman, if you are not more 
 careful, you'll overturn that stove." 
 
 Harold glanced up and met the amused gaze 
 of Capt. Ramie. 
 
 " Where's Mirelle — tell me, quick — was she 
 also saved?" he gasped. 
 
 The old tar looked dubiously at the agitated 
 young man and made a dash for the sideboard. 
 
 '* Here,'' said he, pulling out a bottle and 
 pouring some liquor into a glass. " Drink this 
 and you'll feel all right. It always demoralizes 
 a man to make love on a cloudy night." 
 
 Harold mechanically swallowed the beverage, 
 rubbed his eyes and looked dazedly about. A 
 bright fire burned in the stove; at his feet was 
 a half consumed cigar. The vibrations of the 
 ship's machinery kept on with the self-same 
 7 
 
98 ROMANCES OI' NF\V ORLEANS. 
 
 monotony. The shipwreck was only a dream ! 
 He had fallen asleep haunted b\' the terrors of 
 the sea, and his imagination liad evolved this 
 fantastic nicrhtmare. 
 
 The ship reached New York in due time. 
 Harold and his fair protege then took passage 
 on a steamship for New Orleans, which place 
 they reached without anything unusual happen- 
 ing. Having been informed of his friend's 
 coming, Knouril was waiting for him at the 
 wharf. He insisted on introducino- the vouno- 
 man at once to his adored Lulette. Remon- 
 strances were useless, and, in less than half an 
 hour after his arrival, Harold found himself in 
 the presence of Knouril' s ideal, whose beauty 
 and sweetness he found had not been exagger- 
 ated by his friend. 
 
 It was only when the partners were once 
 more alone that Harold thought of John's father 
 and asked about him. 
 
 "Why. didn't I explain ever\^thing to you?" 
 queried Knouril. 
 
 " Certainly not. You raved about Miss Lu- 
 lette — everything else was a blank." 
 
 Knouril burst into a heartv laujiii. 
 
 •• It was onlv a scheme to make me come 
 
T.ULETTE. 
 
 99 
 
 back/* he exclained. "Father was at the 
 theatre the night of my arrival. He treated the 
 whole thing as a practical joke— and here the 
 matter rests.** 
 
 Harold gave his friend a heartfelt handshake 
 and the pair separated. 
 
 A week afterward Lulette and John were 
 married. Harold was best man, Mirelle his 
 blushing companion. That same night, when 
 he escorted her home, he obtained her promise 
 that the next wedding at the old St. Louis 
 Cathedral would be theirs. 
 
 In May, 1882, Harold and his bride left New 
 Orleans for India, which they decided to make 
 their future home. Lulette feeling saddened 
 at the thought of leaving her native land, 
 Knouril abandoned his idea of returning to 
 Calcutta and left his partner in full charge of 
 the business of Knouril & Co. 
 
 And, following the diction of the dear old 
 fairy tales which delighted us in our youths, 
 may the lovers live in happiness to the end of 
 their lives. 
 
 THE END. 
 
IRRECONCILABLE. 
 
RRECONCILABLE. 
 
 "O, why should the spirit ot mortal lie proiul? 
 Like a swift-tleeting meteor, fast-flying cloud, 
 A flash of the lightning, a break ot the wave, 
 .Man passes Irom life to his rest in the grave. "--/I'wo.r, 
 
 Some sections of the French quarter of New 
 Orleans have of Lite undergone noticeable 
 changes. Damp, ivy-twined dwellings, built 
 during the Spanish domination of Louisiana, 
 have been demolished and handsome stores and 
 cottages erected in their stead. 
 
 Many will recall a certain quaint, stately edi- 
 fice on Royal street, a few squares from 
 Esplanade avenue, which not long ago occu- 
 pied the site where a vast dry goods establish- 
 ment now stands. The process of demolition 
 was commenced about a year ago and now, as 
 one admires the elegant building which has so 
 rapidly replaced its predecessor, the sudden 
 change is always a subject of wonder to him. 
 
 A few months after the workmen had begun 
 
104 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 razing the old building, a secret cabinet was 
 discovered, in which were several chairs, a 
 lounge and two old-fashioned book-cases. 
 Everything was deeply covered with dust, and 
 when the mouldy rags scattered over the lounge 
 were removed, a skeleton rattled to the floor. 
 A rusty pistol, with one chamber empty, was 
 found near by. The newspapers, too busy 
 with the bitter political fight then raging, 
 treated the matter lightly, merely mentioning 
 the strange find in their local columns. The 
 bones were taken in charge by the coroner and 
 buried in Potter's Field. 
 
 The writer not long since had occasion to 
 transact some business with the contractor who 
 erected the modern building — a well-known 
 Creole gentleman — and was told of tlie unearth- 
 ing of the skeleton. 
 
 " I always wondered why the press did not 
 make a big sensation out of this," observed the 
 narrator. " I could have furnished them 
 startling details, father having told me the 
 strange story connected with this old house. 
 Many old-timers still recall the crazed father's 
 irrevocable vow and his unexplained disappear- 
 ance," 
 
IRRECONCILABLE. 10'^ 
 
 When pressed for a full recital, he laughingly 
 
 said: 
 
 "My dear boy, I'm too busy. Come and 
 take breakfast with me Sunday and I'll unbosom 
 
 myself." . . 
 
 He kept his word and furnished the basis lor 
 this touching romance, which is given with 
 
 faithful adherence to reality. 
 
 * * * * *. * * 
 
 About half a century before the present gen- 
 eration was born, there lived in that historic 
 Royal street residence a family by the name of 
 Mizaine, consisting of father, mother, daughter- 
 and a spinster relative. 
 
 Major Hamilcar Mizaine was a survivor of the 
 Battle of New Orleans, where his gallantry had 
 cost him an arm. Having amassed a fortune 
 on his sugar plantation in St. Charles parish, he 
 had disposed of it at a handsome profit and 
 moved to his native place, to live in ease and 
 
 elegance. 
 
 To those whom he liked, the Major was a 
 valued friend, but his sensitive nature resented 
 the slightest affront. As an illustration of his 
 unforgiving disposition, the following .nc.dent 
 
 is related : 
 
 When attending college, one of his profes- 
 
10(3 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 sors, vexed bv some insolent remark, boxed his 
 ears. 
 
 " I am only sixteen and powerless,*' warned 
 the furious boy, " but when I become a man, J 
 will make you regret your cowardice." 
 
 Every one laughed heartil}^ at this bravado, 
 but the youth resolutely carried out his threat. 
 On the anniversary of his twenty-first birthday, 
 he sought the professor, then still in the prime 
 of life, and publicly slapped his face. x\ duel 
 followed, in which Mizaine sent a bullet through 
 his adversary's heart. 
 
 The Major's wife, whose maiden name was 
 Pauline Oursblanc, was one of those cold, in- 
 different, unapproachable characters fortunate- 
 ly so rare among the descendants of the Franco- 
 Latin race. She was too indolent to look after 
 her sole child, .sweet, timid Juanita, and had 
 left her in the entire care of her sister-in-law, 
 Cecile, who liad proved a real motlier to the 
 girl. 
 
 Amid such surroundings, it was ncjt surpris- 
 ing that Juanita did not feel for lier parents 
 those tender sentiments of love and respect 
 which kindness fosters in an immature breast. 
 Her father frowned upon her childisli demon-. 
 
IKKKCONCILABLE. 107 
 
 strations of joy; her mother never kissed her 
 babbling lips or tenderly spoke to her. "Aunt 
 Cecile" was the only one in that dismal house- 
 hold who seemed to love her, and to her the 
 child coniided all lier joys and sorrows. 
 
 Cecile had given her niece the best precep- 
 tors, and at fifteen she was more learned than 
 the average girl of the period — for at that time 
 the education of women was considered unim- 
 portant — and gave indications of soon blooming 
 into a beautiful creature. She was one of those 
 delightful caprices of nature, a blonde Creole, 
 and her pretty face was the envy of her school- 
 mates and the pride of her aunt. 
 
 In those days it was customary to marry 
 young, and Mme. Mizaine suddenly discovered 
 she had a daughter old enough to think of beaux. 
 So she nonchalantly remarked one day during 
 breakfast: 
 
 *'It is time you should think of marrying, 
 Juanita." 
 
 Startled by the suddenness of the question, 
 the young girl opened her blue eyes to their 
 fullest capacity. 
 
 "Marrying?" she repeated, in surprised tones, 
 "Whv, I never loved anv one!" 
 
108 ROMANCES OF XEW ORLEANS. 
 
 ''Love is nonsensical, child,'" was the lym- 
 phatic response. "Had I married for love, I 
 would be an old maid to-day.'' 
 
 The Major looked up amusedly at this frank 
 admission, but said nothing. Mme. Mizaine 
 continued: 
 
 "I will give a soiree in a few months to in- 
 troduce 3'ou to societ}'. In the meanwhile, Ce- 
 cile will instruct you how to behave in com- 
 pany.'" 
 
 Juanita looked apprehensively at her mother, 
 afraid to make any observation, and the meal 
 was finished in silence. 
 
 On her sixteenth birthday, Juanita made her 
 initial bow to society. She had winning man- 
 ners, was an excellent pianist, and conquered 
 many hearts that eventful night. But her sweet- 
 est smiles and most coquettish looks were be- 
 stowed upon Senville Faibus, a rich, handsome 
 3'oung fellow, who was considered a splendid 
 "catch" by scheming mothers. Mme. Mizaine 
 smiled encouragingly, for in her eyes Senville 
 was a desirable suitor and would undoubtedly 
 make a pliant son-in-law. As for the Major, he 
 cordialh' toasted the young man at supper and 
 invited him to call as often as he desired — a 
 
IRRECONCILABLE. 109 
 
 departure from his usual surliness which elicited 
 general wondering comment. 
 
 As the weeks went by, Senville became 
 bolder and more demonstrative in his attentions, 
 completely routing his numerous rivals. One 
 evening, when he had been unusually tender 
 and had departed with unconcealed reluctance, 
 Mizaine patted Jiianita's blonde curls and 
 pleasantly said : 
 
 "This is splendid, m}^ child! I am really 
 proud of you ! 
 
 Juanita looked up in speecliless amazement. 
 Ever since she was a child, slie could not rec- 
 ollect such a warm proof of paternal love. 
 
 "Yes," continued the Major, "lam delighted 
 with you. Flirt as much as 3^ou please, but do 
 not go too far." 
 
 "What do you mean, father?" said the be- 
 wildered girl, made uneasy by liis caressing 
 touch. 
 
 "I mean that Senville can be your to\' as 
 long as you please, but your husband — never." 
 
 "Father! I thought ^^ou liked him so 
 much?" 
 
 "He is a pleasant young fellow, but you are 
 too young to love sincerely. You will change 
 
110 Pv0^rANCES of new ori.eaxs. 
 
 3^our mind and make him suffer. I watched 
 him closely to-night and I know he will adore 
 you forever.*' 
 
 Juanita cast down her eves. What could all 
 tliis mean? He was surely jesting. 
 
 *'But father/' she ventured, timidly, '-I do 
 not understand why you do not want us to 
 marr}'. I am old enough to love truly and I 
 ieel I can never forget Senville.'' 
 
 The Major's features grew sombre. 
 
 "I tell you this is all nonsense," he said. 
 "Make him craz3\ drive him wild, but bear in 
 mind that 3'ou can never marr\' him." 
 
 •'But I do love him dearly, father. Ho^v 
 can — "" 
 
 "Love has no existence at your age. You 
 may suffer a little, but 3'ou will forget and be 
 happier later." 
 
 In vain Juanita pleaded — Mizaine w^as inex- 
 orable. Exasperated In- the girl's earnestness, 
 he finalh- said : 
 
 "Enough of this nonsense. If you disobe3^ 
 me, may m3' eternal curse rest on 3'ou, your 
 husband, your children and ever3'thing dear to 
 you.'" 
 
 He walked awa3' in a towering passion. 
 
IKKKC'ONLILAP.I.K. Ill 
 
 Juanita disconsolately sought lier aunt and told 
 her all, The good soul consoled her and ex- 
 plained what slie thought prompted her brother 
 to hate Senville. 
 
 '•Senville's father and Hamilcar were class- 
 mates and inseparable friends,'" she began, ten- 
 derly kissing the tear-wet cheeks. "When 
 your father was twenty-two, he fell desperately 
 in love with Essie Rurtel, a beautiful Amer- 
 ican girl. She accepted him and everything 
 was in preparation for the wedding, when she 
 ran away with voungf Faibus. Hamilcar .was 
 frantic with grief and rage and vowed revenge. 
 Everybody expected a duel to the death, as 
 both men were brave and reckless, but vour 
 father did not seek a hostile meeting. Soon 
 after, he married Pauline and his wound was 
 thought to be healed. Do 3'ou now understand, 
 my child?" 
 
 Juanita arose, her bosom heaving with emo 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes, I now see it all,'" she said indignantly. 
 '•Father thought I would jilt Senville. thus pun- 
 ishing him for his mother's falsity. But I will 
 do no sucii thing. He has never shown a fa- 
 ther's solicitude for me and I defy his curse. 
 I vjill marrv Senville."* 
 
112 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 ''Juanita!" exclaimed Cecile, alarmed at her 
 impetuous words. 
 
 The poor girl threw her arms around her neck 
 and kissed the withered cheeks. 
 
 "Dear, sweet, darling aunt," she sobbed, 
 •'you are the only one who really cares for me." 
 ***** 
 
 A few nights after the above conversation 
 took place, Senville found Juanita alone in the 
 garden, and confessed his love. She t^remu- 
 lously told him of her father's terrible words. 
 Senville was dazed. 
 
 ''God is too just to hearken to such vows," 
 he said. "If you love me, we will be happy. 
 But I do not ask you to disobey your father if 
 your heart dictates otherwise." 
 
 She circled her arms around his neck. 
 
 "Yes. God is too good to blame us," she 
 said, simpl^^ "I love you and nothing can 
 tempt me to make you feel unhappy." 
 
 He kissed her quivering lips and her anguished 
 heart was solaced. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The elopement of Juanita Mizaine and Sen- 
 ville Faibus created quite a stir in social cir- 
 cles. Senville's parents could give no explana 
 
IRKECOXCILARLE. 113 
 
 tion to tlie iniuimt'rable questions propounded 
 to them and looked upon the affair as "a ro- 
 mantic escapade of two young fools." To 
 those bold enough to question the Major, he 
 invariably replied : 
 
 **My daughter is dead and buried. I do not 
 care to discuss the subject." 
 
 Two years after their elopement, the young 
 people returned to New Orleans, bringing a 
 little stranger with them — called by the sweet 
 name of Micaela — whose fair face was so much 
 like Juanita's that she needed no formal .intro- 
 duction to establish her relationship to that 
 happy young woman. 
 
 Juanita tried to communicate with her par- 
 ents, asking their forgiveness, but her ad- 
 vances were repulsed. Cecile was dead, thus 
 depriving the girl of the only relative who 
 would have welcomed her. 
 
 For three years the young people were very 
 happ}'. Then came a sudden change. The 
 bank in which was deposited the fortune of the 
 Faibus family — an institution which had with- 
 stood financial crashes for nearly a century — 
 collapsed, leaving Senville penniless. It was 
 then he felt the glamour of money. Former 
 
114 ROMANXES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 friends, who fawned around him when fortune's 
 star was in its zenith, now greeted him with 
 coldness and arrogance, and refused assistance. 
 To support his wife and child, he was compell- 
 ed to work w^ith common laborers on the river 
 front; but this proved too arduous for him and 
 he soon sickened and died. For her child's 
 sake, Juanita wrote a suppliant letter to her 
 father. She received the following answer: 
 
 ** You are an impostor. My only daughter 
 is dead." 
 
 The young widow then found employment in 
 a manufacturing establishment. One day, sun- 
 dry articles were missed, and, being the poorest 
 employe, suspicion naturally rested upon her 
 and she was discharged. 
 
 *' You may thank your stars we do not send 
 you to jail," said the superintendent, sternly. 
 " The balance we owe vou is insicrnificant to 
 cover your thefts, but we will be lenient and 
 gii'C 3^ou a chance to reform." 
 
 Poor Juanita ! Her baby — now a prattling, 
 intelligent child of six — had been feverish all 
 night and she was waiting for her week's wages 
 to buy some medecine and toothsome tid-bits. 
 With a despairing heart she souf^ht her wretched 
 
IRRECONCILABLE. Ho 
 
 home. Micaela's face became radiant when 
 she saw her mother. 
 
 " I thought you would never come, mamma," 
 she said, caressing the pallid cheeks. " I'm 
 so hungry." 
 
 Juanita passionately kissed the bright eyes. 
 
 " And what delicacy does my precious want 
 to-night?" she said, laughing boisterously to 
 conceal her agitation. 
 
 Micaela was pensive a few moments. 
 
 " I feel so much Hke eating nic-nacs and 
 milk," she observed longingly. "That good 
 colored woman next door gave me some this 
 morning and it did me such a heap of good." 
 
 Juanita fumbled in her purse and found — five 
 cents! Aye, even this simple luxury was de- 
 nied the little sufferer. A desperate resolve 
 overmastered her pride. 
 
 "I can not allow my baby to die," she thought; 
 "I will seek father and compel him to take care 
 of her. He may have no compassion for me, 
 but he must save this innocent life." 
 
 The air being cool and the weather drizzly, 
 she wrapped a shawl around the little fevered 
 form and tottered out of the room. 
 
 A grand ball was in progress in the spacious 
 
116 ROMANCES OI^ XE\V OnLllAXS. 
 
 Mizaine parlors. The Major had just been 
 elected to Congress and was honoring his con- 
 stituents. As he passed through the hallway 
 the door leading into the street cautiously opened 
 and an anxious, frightened face peeped in. 
 
 '*What the mischief do you want?" he 
 gruffly queried, opening the door. 
 
 But he started, for an appealing face was 
 raised to him and a choking voice faltered: 
 
 '*Have mercy, father ! Your grandchild is 
 dying. Abuse me, but save her life." 
 
 The old man turned as pale as a corpse. In 
 spite of her faded dress and emaciated features, 
 he had recognized his daughter I For a few^ 
 moments he gazed vacantly at her, unable to 
 speak. Then memories of the past surged 
 through his brain, and he recalled his fateful 
 vow. Recovering his wonted calmness, he 
 coldly said: 
 
 " You have come to the wrong house, madam. 
 My only child died seven years ago." 
 
 He slammed the door in her face and joined 
 the impatient revelers. That same night he 
 disappeared and was never heard of again. 
 
 The next morning an unconscious woman, 
 tightly clasping the dead bodv of a child, was 
 
IRRECONCILABLE. H' 
 
 found by the police in a doorway on Royal street, 
 a few doors from Major Mazaine's residence. 
 The unfortunate creature was taken to the 
 Charity Hospital, where kind hands ministered to 
 her, but aid had come too late and she died 
 before sunset. No one identifying her, she was 
 buried by the city. 
 
 * 
 
 The discovery of a skeleton in the old Span- 
 ish building clears away the mystery surround- 
 ing Major Mizaine's disappearance. Gnawed 
 by remorse, he had sought this secret spot and 
 put an end to his misdirected life. This theory 
 is rendered irrefutable by the finding of an un- 
 loaded pistol near the ancient lounge. 
 
 May God have mercy on the poor bones lying 
 uncared for in a pauper's grave ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE 
 
 CREOLE FLOWER GIRL 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 At the beginning of this century, in the neigh- 
 borhood of that world-famed rehc of colonial 
 New Orleansahe French Market, there used to 
 be an attractive flower shop, presided over by a 
 bright-eyed little brunette. She was a charm- 
 ing beauty, full of wit and tact, and did a 
 thriving business. Although very amiable and 
 talkative, she was mysteriously reserved about 
 her personaHty, no one knowing her real name 
 or antecedents. To those indiscreet enough to 
 question her, she gave evasive answers, and no 
 amount of coaxing could induce her to become 
 confidential. 
 
 Ernest Fatah was her best and most assiduous 
 customer. His heart had been stolen since the 
 day those delicate fingers pinned a boutonniere 
 for him, but his advances having been coldly 
 received, he consoled himself with the thought 
 that he could at least see her every morning. 
 
122 ROMANXES OK NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Young Fatah was a reporter on the only 
 newspaper then existing in New Orleans — Lc 
 Coiirrier de la Louisiane. He was a popular 
 sketch-writer and versifier, most of his work 
 appearing in the Courrier. 
 
 One morning, he met his ideal as she was 
 coming out of the St. Louis Cathedral, and 
 smilingly approached her. 
 
 **Do you object to my company as far as 
 your residence," he said. 
 
 "Oh, I am not bound for home," was the 
 disappointing response. " I am simply going 
 to visit a sick friend. You may walk w^ith me 
 as far as her door, if you wish." 
 
 Ernest's beaming features showed the three 
 last words to be surplusage. 
 
 *' You are a mystery to me Mademoiselle," 
 he said, a puzzled expression on his handsome 
 face. " Once I asked you to tell me a little of 
 your life and you seemed unaccountably dis- 
 pleased. Wh}^ are you so unkind? You know 
 it is not a spirit of curiosity which prompts me 
 to—" 
 
 ** Please do not begin again, I entreat 3^ou," 
 interrupted the girl, '• I know you are an 
 honorable gentleman and I admire your discre- 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 123 
 
 tion, but I can not tell you more than you 
 already know. It is useless to plead Mr. Fatah." 
 
 The young man gave a start of surprise. 
 
 " Why, do you know my name?" he said. 
 
 The young girl looked confused, but frankly 
 replied: 
 
 "You will pardon my curiosity, but you 
 seemed such a quiet gentleman and took my 
 refusal to receive you at my house so philo- 
 sophically, that I made it a point to ascertain 
 your name. It is a habit I have to know who 
 my regular customers are." 
 
 Ernest glanced at her, but she averted his 
 gaze. 
 
 "As you know my name," he convincingly 
 said, "would you deem it bold if I asked 
 \'Ours?" 
 
 "Not at all, sir," was the quick reply. " I 
 
 am Mayoutte, the Creole Flower Girl. I 
 
 thought you knew it. Everybody calls me 
 thus." 
 
 There was such an innocent look in her 
 lustrous eyes, Ernest's rising displeasure was 
 dispelled. 
 
 " I know your g-iven name," he said, softly; 
 
124 ROMANCES Op- NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 '' but you surely have another — a family name, 
 miss." 
 
 '' Perhaps I once did, but I do not recall it." 
 
 "You are jesting. One can see by your 
 conversation and manners that you are not 
 plebeian. Your answer is incomprehensible." 
 
 '* There are stranger things in this world, 
 Mr. Fatah. Were you to know my past life 
 you would wonder how I could apparently be 
 so volatile and gay. One day I migiit tell you. 
 For the present, I rely on your honor not to 
 question me. We must now part, as I have 
 reached my destination. Au revoir, sir." 
 
 Ernest walked regretfully away, more de- 
 termined than ever to know the true history of 
 this mysterious girl. The next morning as he 
 stopped for his customary bouquet, Mayoutte 
 seemed less gay than usual. 
 
 " What has happened to the queen of flow- 
 ers," he observed pleasantl3^ 
 
 Mayoutte pointed to the clouded sky. 
 
 " The sun has not given her its morning 
 kiss," she said laughingly. Then, looking 
 graver: "You must not mind me, Mr. Fatah. 
 Once in a while thoughts of the past trouble me 
 and I grow despondent. To-morrow you will 
 find me as of old." 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 125 
 
 " If it was not a forbidden subject," said 
 Ernest, hesitatingly, " I would ask a few ques- 
 tions." 
 
 Mayoutte glanced into his love-lit eyes, but 
 instantly averted them. 
 
 " Do not look at me that way," she said ner- 
 vously. 
 
 Ernest feifjned to be vexed. 
 
 "If even m}^ looks are hateful to you," be 
 stiffly said, "it would be more chivalrous to 
 leave you alone, I trust you will pardon my 
 intrusion, Miss." 
 
 He bowed and walked toward the door. His 
 ruse was successful, for a detaining hand was 
 placed on his arm: 
 
 " Do not be angry, Mr. Fatah," was the 
 gentle remark. " I did not mean to offend you. 
 You have been too kind to be treated with in- 
 gratitude." 
 
 Ernest saw his advantage and persuasively 
 said : 
 
 " Be more friendly, cruel girl. Your bright 
 eyes have surely read my heart's secret." 
 
 " Do not talk that way," said Mayoutte, ap- 
 prehensively. " We might be overheard." 
 
l26 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 '* Impossible." cautioned Ernest. "This 
 little corner is too removed from the street." 
 
 •' It is best to be prudent. When we are cer- 
 tain not to be overheard, I will speak fear- 
 lessly." 
 
 Ernest's heart gave a bound. 
 
 *' This ma}* never happen, unless — " 
 
 He stopped, and their eyes met again. 
 
 " I will do as you wish, Mr. Fatah," said 
 Mayoutte, lowly. " I do not know how^ it is, 
 but I feel so strange when you look at me that 
 w^ay. I — I do not like it. If I allow you to 
 visit me, will 3'ou promise on your honor 
 never to speak of love to me, unless I tell you 
 to?" 
 
 Ernest looked perplexedly at her. 
 
 " Do you refuse? It is the only alternative." 
 
 She spoke firmly, but her voice quavered a 
 little. Concealing his almost uncontrollable hap- 
 piness, for the girl's heart-thoughts were mir- 
 rored in her reproachful eyes, Ernest indiffer- 
 ently said: 
 
 "I agree to respect your wishes. Miss May- 
 outte. When may I call? Would this evening- 
 be too soon?" 
 
tHE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 127 
 
 Mayoutte hesitated and then hastily scrib- 
 bled on a small slip of paper. 
 
 '*Here is my address," she said uneasily. 
 *'Act as your conscience dictates. Please go 
 now. I am afraid people will gossip about us." 
 
 Ernest took the precious document and de- 
 parted. But he pondered for a long time over 
 Mayoutte's singular phrase: ^'Acl as yotir con- 
 science dictates. '''' He felt he Igved her sincere- 
 ly and would make her his wife if the story of 
 her life proved her to be as pure as he imag- 
 ined, and he wondered what she meant. The 
 mystery was becoming more bewildering than 
 ever, and he felt a pang at his heart when he 
 thought how tediously long the day would be. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The sun's last rays were tinting the sombre 
 clouds as Ernest stopped before Mayoutte's 
 residence and softly raised the quaint iron 
 knocker. The gate being half-opened and no 
 one responding to his knock, he walked into 
 the garden-path which led to the house and 
 looked musingly about. Roses, dahlias, mig- 
 
128 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLKAXS. 
 
 nonettes and bright-colored tropical flowers 
 bloomed in the open air, distilling a delicious 
 fragrance. As he strolled toward the house, 
 the door was suddenly opened and Mayoutte 
 appeared on the threshold. 
 
 She was indeed a lovely creature. Of medi- 
 um height, slender, w^ith large black eyes and a 
 magnificent wealth of chestnut hair, she was well 
 calculated to excite admiration from the most 
 prosaic. iVnd as Ernest did not even remotely 
 belong to this latter class, being a poet and 
 dreamer, his state of mind can better be imag- 
 ined than described. Mayoutte smiled at his 
 confusion and observed : 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Fatah. You will catch cold 
 standing on the damp soil so long. You are 
 earlier than I expected." 
 
 She seemed so graciousl}" unconscious of 
 his embarrassment, that Ernest came to his 
 senses. 
 
 "I w^as admiringyour pretty flowers," he said. 
 "I hope you will pardon my abstraction." 
 
 He took her proffered hand and they entered 
 the house. 
 
 Seeing the young girl was so mt-rry. Ernest 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 129 
 
 did not broach the subject of his visit, but em- 
 ployed his time in subtle assaults upon her un- 
 defended heart. 
 
 '' I read a very pretty poem by you in the 
 C^/^rr/Vr last Sunday," observed Mayoutte, after 
 a pause in the conversation. 
 
 "You are verv charitable, I am sure," said 
 Ernest. "I am delighted to see I had an 
 approving critic." 
 
 *' Oh, I always read your poetry with pleas- 
 ure. Before I knew you I always looked for it 
 in the Cotirrier and was disappointed when you 
 slighted a number. How is it you always sing 
 of love?" 
 
 "It is such a sublime — " 
 
 But Mayoutte's warning finger stopped him. 
 
 "Take care," she said, playfull3^ "Do 
 not venture too rashly on the quicksand of 
 poesy." 
 
 "You are despotic. Miss Mayoutte. You 
 push me temptingly near the illusive goal and 
 then blame me for falling in." 
 
 "I spoke of your poetry, sir," she scoldingly 
 responded. 
 
 " Are you afraid I might become personal?" 
 9 
 
130 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 *'Yes. I know how impetuous you poets 
 are. Once started, an avalanciie can not stop 
 you . ' ' 
 
 " But a woman will," said Ernest, teasingl^^ 
 *' In that case your sex should be more dreaded 
 than — than — I should like to know what you are 
 laughing at, Miss?" 
 
 " I was just thinking how courageous vou 
 were, Mr. Fatah." 
 
 Ernest bit his lip. 
 
 *' Now you are angry," resumed Mayoutte, 
 apologetically. " To atone for mv offence, I 
 will ask you to write a verse or two in my al- 
 bum. Poetr}' is an infallible cure for rebellious 
 thoughts." 
 
 " Especially when it has a congenial sub- 
 ject," ventured Ernest. 
 
 The}^ sat around a table and Ernest began 
 inditing. Now and then he would glance at 
 Mayoutte for an inspiration, but she seemed 
 deeply interested in the texture of her dress and 
 did not once raise her eves. At last the poem 
 was finished and he placed the open book before 
 her. 
 
 " Read it aloud," she said. *' It will seem 
 nicer." 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 131 
 
 Ernest read as follow : 
 
 THE POET TO HIS SWEETHEART. 
 When your eyes are upturned to my face, hallowed 
 
 love, 
 The bright worlds which glimttier so grandly above 
 
 With envy soon fade: 
 When your rosy lips part, fondest phrases to tell, 
 The harpists celestial their rhapsodies quell 
 To listen, fair maid. 
 
 You are sweet as the rose by the South wind caressed 
 And your throat is as white as the proud lily's crest; 
 
 Your heart pure as snow 
 Which vigilant guardians of Heaven elude. 
 When beside me you sit sorrows dare not intrude 
 
 And woes blissful grow. 
 
 l'envoy. 
 Rise, fond tide of my heart, to the being I prize. 
 On the billows of Fate, like the sea to the skies, 
 
 When she smiles to my call! 
 Hide thy pale rays, O Sun! Jealous moon disap- 
 pear! . 
 Angels, stay with the stars when this maiden draws 
 
 near — 
 
 She is fairer than all ! 
 
 " It is quite pretty," said Mayoutte, " but it 
 is only a poetical conceit? You do not mean 
 it?" 
 
 " Of course not," ansvveied Ernest, deci- 
 
132 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 sively. " I remember my promise too well to 
 be guilty of actually thinking such things." 
 
 But his looks said otherwise, and Mayoutte 
 became once more furiously interested in that 
 tantalizing dress. 
 
 " May I return this book to the mantelpiece?" 
 said Ernest, taking this as a pretext to make 
 her look up. 
 
 " Certainty," replied Mayoutte, without glanc- 
 ing at him. 
 
 He walked briskty as far as the chimney and 
 then came back on tip-toe and stood behind 
 Mayoutte. She slowly raised her head to see 
 where he was and he noticed a tear trembling on 
 her lashes. In an instant, she w^as caught in his 
 arms and he was tenderly kissing her moistened 
 eyes. 
 
 "Oh, sir, please leave me go ! " she pleaded, 
 struorg-ling to free herself. "What will you think 
 of me now ! " 
 
 "I love you, dearest," said Ernest. "Tell 
 me you care for me." 
 
 "No, I hate you," was the sobbing response. 
 "I thought you were a gentleman and extended 
 you the hospitality of my home and now you 
 insult me ! Our friendship ends to-night, Mr. 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 133 
 
 Fatah. Oh, how cou/d you take advantage of 
 a lone, unhappy woman ! " 
 
 She cried as if her heart would break and 
 Ernest be^an to fear she would be overheard. 
 
 '*Donotbe so cruel," he gently remonstrated. 
 ''I love you and will make you my wife. Say 
 you approve me, sweet girl." 
 
 Mayoutte dried her tears and sadly remarked : 
 
 "You have read my heart and wish to know 
 why I can not requite your love. I warned you 
 not to think of me otherwise than as a friend, 
 but you did not heed me. I will tell you the 
 truth, Mr. Fatah. I am married." 
 
 Ernest's face became ashy and he sprang to 
 his feet. 
 
 ''What?" he cried, fiercely. 
 
 But the beseeching eyes calmed his anger 
 and he resumed his seat. He hardly gave 
 credence to such an astonishing confession. 
 
 " Mayoutte," he presently said, '* you are a 
 Modern Sphinx to me. You have an attractive 
 home; you are endowed with more accom- 
 phshments than the average girl of the period, 
 yet you are not happy. Another thing which 
 puzzles me : Why do you sell flowers when you 
 
134 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 could easily fill a more lucrative and exalted 
 calling?'' 
 
 " Why do I sell flowers?" repeated Mayoutte, 
 dreamily. " I hardh^ know. I like to be in- 
 dependent and I find consolation in m}^ flowers. 
 They are never unkind, and I love them." She 
 was lost in thouglit for awhile. " I was too 
 impulsive in judging you, Mr. Fatah," she re- 
 suQied. " I am to blame. I should never have 
 been weak enough to make our friendship 
 stronger. But it is too late now and as I do not 
 wish you to think ill of me, I will tell you the 
 story of my life." 
 
 " That is why I am here to-night," said 
 Ernest. " You seemed so gay when I came, I 
 did not wish to make you feel sad by alluding 
 to the subject. Tell me all. I am certain 
 nothing terrible shadows 3'our pure life." 
 
 They returned to the sofa and Mayoutte be- 
 gan, hesitatingly at first, but becoming more 
 confidential as she proceeded : 
 
 "You were right in thinking me of good 
 birth. My true name is Josef a de Aillieres. 
 My parents still live on our estates in the i\t- 
 takapas and my ancestors, as history has no doubt 
 informed you, rendered gallant services to 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 135 
 
 poor France before the Reign of Terror ensan- 
 guined her standard. But father fortunately 
 escaped the horrorsof the Revolution, as he emi- 
 grated to Louisiana about 1768, exactly fifty years 
 after New Orleans was founded. He married 
 a few years afterward. I was his eighth child 
 and the only one who survived the terrible 
 epidemic of 1785. I lost five brothers and two 
 sisters within three months. Three died the 
 same day. I was then nearly a baby, but I 
 vividly recall that fearful day— those three 
 coffins ranged side by side and the grief of my 
 parents.* Oh, Mr. Fatah, it v^as awful !" 
 
 She placed her handkerchief to her face and 
 sobbed. Ernest's eyes were moist and he felt 
 a choking sensation in his throat, but controlled 
 his emotion and gently comforted the girl. She 
 gradually became calmer and resumed: 
 
 "Years went by without anything eventful 
 happening. One day— about five years ago— 
 father brought a stranger to spend a few weeks 
 with us. He was a Northern speculator and 
 was looking for an investment in Louisiana 
 lands. He appeared to be a man of means and 
 refinement, was handsome and intelligent, and 
 
 *A historical fact. G. A. 
 
136 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 I fell in love with him. He seemed very fond 
 of me, but father considered me a mere child 
 and laughed heartily when I told him the 
 Northerner had asked me to become his w^ife. 
 
 '* ' He was making fun of you, you romantic 
 little goose,' he said. 'Run to your room; 
 your dolls are crying for you." 
 
 '* When I told this to my suitor, he said he 
 would speak to father that same evening. He 
 did so, but was chilly received. 
 
 " ' I can give you no definite answer, sir, ' 
 I overheard father saying. ' I have much 
 friendship for you, but I know nothing of your 
 antecedents. We old Frenchmen are ver}' 
 strict on that score. You were introduced to 
 me by my broker and I asked no questions, not 
 having a marriageable daughter — for Josefa is 
 onl}' fifteen. I do not refuse the honor you 
 wish to confer upon me, but furnish me proper 
 credentials and I w^ill act accordingly.'* 
 
 " I thought this was quite unkind of father, 
 m}^ suitor seeming such a perfect gentleman, 
 and I admired the dignified way in which he 
 took his rebuff. He was sad and pensive when 
 
 *This may seem odd to the present generation, but it was the laudable 
 and invariable rule of the old Creoles not to entertain anybody. Good 
 credentials were indispensable. G. A. 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. IS"? 
 
 he met me in the drawing-room and I had not the 
 courage to refuse when he asked me to walk 
 about the garden with him. He then told me he 
 was going in the morning, never to return. He 
 loved me, but respected father's antagonism to 
 Americans and did not want to thrust himself in 
 a family where he was not liked by all. He 
 talked long and earnestly and completely turned 
 my head. I agreed to elope with him, and the 
 next morning abandoned those who had been 
 so kir . to me to please a total stranger. It was 
 the usual sequel, Mr. Fatah. He took me to 
 Philadelphia, where we lived happily for a year. 
 One morning he abandoned me, leaving a letter 
 in which he told me I had better go back to my 
 parents and allowing me enough money to do 
 so. I came as far as New Orleans, but had not 
 the courage to seek those I had so cruelly 
 wronged. Alone and friendless, I did not 
 know what to do, and so rented this littte cot- 
 tage and opened a flower stand. I first felt 
 humiliated and was shy and nervous, but little 
 b}^ little I accustomed m3^self to my surround- 
 ings and to-day I take my fate philosophically." 
 "Have you never heard from your hus- 
 band?" kindlv observed Ernest. 
 
138 RO>iANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " I do not even know it he exists. You now 
 understand why we can not be happy, Mr. 
 Fatah?" 
 
 **If your husband were dead," said Ernest, 
 expectantly, *' would you marry me?" 
 
 He read the answer in her tear-wet eyes and 
 resolved to do all in his power to bring back 
 their happy light. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Ernest quietly instituted inquiries concerning 
 the de Aillieres and soon secured an introduc- 
 tion to that influential Acadian family. Al- 
 though he longed to speak of the subject w^hich 
 monopolized his thoughts, he deemed it best to 
 be patient and observe a little. He had come 
 ostensibly to "write up" the country and seek 
 material for character sketches. Being of 
 French descent, he was hospitably entertained. 
 His affability soon won the friendship of the 
 good-hearted people and he was told the odd 
 folk-lore and legends of the Attakapas region, 
 which he treasured in his memorandum book 
 for publication in the Coiiri'ier. 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GiRL. 139 
 
 One evening, after Mrs, de Allieres had 
 been unusually reminiscent, she sndly ob- 
 served : 
 
 "Our own family has also had its sad romance, . 
 Mr. Fatah. It is a subject which is never al- 
 luded to here, but which still causes our hearts 
 to pang." 
 
 Ernest could hardly restrain his excitement. 
 
 '* Would you think me intrusive if I asked a 
 recital?" he said. 
 
 *' Not at all, sir. I have confidence in your 
 discretion." 
 
 She then told him the story of Mayoutte's 
 flight with the Northerner, stopping now and 
 then to wipe away a tear. 
 
 *' You never knew what became of the poor 
 girl?" queried Ernest, a suspicious tremor in 
 his voice. 
 
 *' We did all we could to find her, but to no 
 avail," was the answer. "The wretch who 
 wronged us probably killed her." 
 
 " No, madam, your daughter is not dead," 
 said Ernest, forgetting his restraint. "You 
 shall soon see her." 
 
 He spoke with such assurance, the old 
 
140 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 ladv seized both his hands and imploringly 
 said : 
 
 "Oh, sir, do notkeep me in suspense? Tell me 
 everything, whether good or bad." 
 
 Ernest obeyed, repeating the story he had 
 heard from Mayoutte's tremulous lips. * * * 
 The next day, INIr. and Mrs. de Aillieres, ac- 
 companied by the young journahst, left for 
 New Orleans. 
 
 There are happenings in our lives which defy 
 the pen of the chronicler. However ambitious 
 he may be, his ideas become confused and sterile, 
 taking life and dying in the same breath. The 
 heart beats in unison with the event which affects 
 it, the eyes become moist, the bosom oppressed, 
 but the romancer's individuality is lost and he 
 imagines himself a real actor in the scene he 
 3'earns to depict. 
 
 Such were the feelings which overmastered 
 the writer when he attempted to portray the 
 meeting between Mayoutte and her joyful 
 parents. Aye, the pen he wields is not elo- 
 quent enough to describe this touching recon- 
 ciliation and give life to the expressions of 
 unfettered delight which escaped the lips of 
 those three mortals. 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 141 
 
 Josef a — for she is no more to us Mayoutte, 
 the Creole Flower Girl — followed her parents 
 to their Acadian home. At his fervid solicita- 
 tions, she consented to correspond with Ernest, 
 her parents agreeing thereto. 
 
 A year elapsed. Every five or six weeks 
 Ernest would receive a friendly letter from 
 Josef a. There were no mail-routes in those 
 days, correspondence being carried on by 
 means of couriers, and four weeks was consid- 
 ered a remarkable feat in the transmission of a 
 letter from the interior. What a contrast to the 
 present lightning-hke mail trains? But this was 
 nearly a century ago; one hundred 3^ears hence 
 an inflated generation will mock what we now 
 highly prize and deem indispensable. 
 
 One da}^ Ernest received a cheerful — almost 
 loving — letter from Mayoutte, in which was this 
 simple postscript: 
 
 "//* you can spare the tune, come and see 
 mer 
 
 These mysterious words puzzled the young 
 man not a little. There was only one solution 
 — a personal explanation with the one who 
 framed them. As luck would have it, a planter 
 from Grand Coteau was returning home that 
 
142 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 same evening and was delighted to have 
 '* somebody to talk to " during his tedious 
 journey. 
 
 Ernest was cordially welcomed by the de 
 Aillieres. Josefa did not conceal her gladness 
 at seeing him again, and seemed unusually ten- 
 der and attentive. In the evening, when the 
 family was grouped for a friendJv chat around 
 the crackling log wood fire, Josefa handed the 
 young man a newspaper clipping, bidding him 
 to read it. 
 
 " It was not from your pen,'' she said, in a 
 low tone, "but it lightened my sorrowful 
 heart." 
 
 The printed slip read as follows : 
 
 "A letter from Philadelphia to Commagere 
 & Co., of this city, brings news of the suicide 
 of Warren Proctor, the well known broker. 
 Financial ruin is the assigned cause for the 
 deed. Deceased was unmarried." 
 
 "I read that in the Courrie?' weeks ago, said 
 Ernest, calml^^ "I see nothing — " 
 
 But Josefa had risen and stood before him 
 with extended arms. 
 
 "He was my husband," she said, simply. 
 
THE CREOLE FLOWER GIRL. 143 
 
 '* We can now be happy, sweet love. Are you 
 not satisfied to have waited?" 
 A kiss was his answer. 
 
 On Conti street, not far from the Mortgage 
 Office, this little sign can be seen : 
 
 MORRISON & FATAH, 
 
 LAW AND NOTARIAL OFFICES. 
 
 The junior partner is a grandson of Ernest 
 Fatah, the Creole poet and author. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE 
 
 SIRiNGlER OF COIGfl SQUARE. 
 
 lO 
 
THE STRANGLER OE CONGO SQUARE. 
 
 I.— THE MANUSCRIPT. 
 
 One morning in the latter part of April, 1887, 
 I was busily ticking away at my Caligrafh^ 
 when a cheery voice startled me with this re- 
 mark: 
 
 ^* Hello, old man!" 
 
 I looked up and perceived Yates Stinton, my 
 college chum and inseparable companion. 
 
 " Well, what's up?" I ventured, grasping his 
 extended hand. "Don't stay an eternity in 
 expressing yourself, I entreat you ; am tre- 
 mendously busy to-day." 
 
 " All right, I waive prefatory remarks: Pub- 
 lished any stories lately?" 
 
 *' Not a line since November last; too much 
 office work." 
 
 " Feel like launching a stunner?" 
 • " If I can get good stuff, yes." 
 
 " I can furnish you all the material needed, 
 having unearthed the strangest manuscript ever 
 
148 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 brought to light. Come over this evening and 
 I'll show it to you." 
 
 " Anything else?" 
 
 I nervously toyed with the keys of my type- 
 writer. 
 
 "You are deliciously polite this morning," ob- 
 served Stinton, giving me a parting shake. "You 
 will surely be around, eh?" 
 
 "Yes. So long." 
 
 "Crick! Crick!" w^ent the cylinder, as I fed 
 in a new sheet and resumed work in earnest. 
 
 Seven was striking w^hen I entered Stinton' s 
 room that evening, with this query on my lips: 
 
 "Well, where's that unparalleled phenom- 
 enon?" 
 
 "I'll get it in a minute," was the answer. 
 
 He opened a drawer of his book-case and 
 brought out a roll of paper, which he handed 
 me, saying: 
 
 "Just go over those pages and tell me how you 
 like the narrator's style. It is just the sort of 
 nonsense ^-ou always write about — intensely ro- 
 mantic love." 
 
 I was soon deeply interested in the document. 
 For fully two hours I read on, Stinton in the 
 meantime smoking and pretending to read, but 
 
THE STRAXGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. 149 
 
 I could see he was watching the expression of 
 my face. I finally laid down the manuscript and 
 said : 
 
 "This can make a capital romance, Yates. 
 I'll take care of it." 
 
 "Do you not think it too immoral?" 
 
 "As it now^ reads, decidedly." 
 
 "You will then edit it?,' 
 
 "Yes, but I will have to wait until Court ad- 
 journs sine die. As 3^ouknow, there's nothing 
 of much importance to do about the clerk's 
 office from June until November and I can then 
 devote all my time to it." 
 
 I again scrutinized the manuscript and ob- 
 served : 
 
 "I say, old fellow, where did you resurrect 
 this? Judging from its mustiness, I have no 
 hesitancy to believe it was brought over from 
 the Old Country by DeSoto. " 
 
 "Found it in an old book store on Exchanp;e 
 Alley the other day," observed Stinton, ner- 
 vously drumming with his fingers on the table 
 and averting my gaze. "Paid a quarter for it, 
 a bargain which seemed to raise a suspicion in 
 the book-seller's mind that I was a crank. He 
 had thrown it away as rubbish, and as his shop 
 
150 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 is luckily never swept out, escaped destruction. 
 I read the story, thought it weird and interest- 
 incr and reasoned von could weave somethincr 
 out of it." 
 
 "Do you know anything about its history?" 
 
 "Not a syllable." 
 
 "Well, let it rest. I'll have aU summer to 
 work this up. What do you say to a game of 
 chess? You annihilated me last Sunday and I 
 thirst for revenge." 
 
 We were soon deeply engrossed in our favor- 
 ite pastime, and it was long after midnight be- 
 fore we gave the chessmen a rest. 
 
 About a w^eek after my vi^it to Stinton's, he 
 left New Orleans for Paris, Fiance, whither he 
 went with the intention of perfectmg his studies. 
 It seems to me I still see him waving a regretful 
 farewell from the deck of the ViUe de Paris as 
 she steamed into midstream. Poor fellow, I 
 wonder if he ever reached his destination? Al- 
 though he had promised to keep me faithfully 
 posted about his whereabouts, I have never 
 heard from him. 
 
 On the third day of July, 1887 — as is the 
 yearly custom in New Orleans — the principal 
 courts adjourned until November following. 
 
THE STRAN(;LER of CONGO SQUARE. 151 
 
 There being very little stenographic or type- 
 writing work to do, I found myself at leisure to 
 investigate the history of Stinton's manuscript 
 and discovered that he had told me a stupen- 
 dous fib. The crusty book-seller in Exchange 
 Alley expressed unfeigned surprise when I 
 broached *the subject and could not recollect 
 having ever seen a person answering Stinton's 
 description. This, coupled with the hitter's 
 unexplained silence, renders the matter still 
 more bewildering, and I have been wondering 
 to this day what could be his motive in concoct- 
 ing such a fable and entrusting me with this 
 stranjje old record. I have of late made a re- 
 markable discovery, which, instead of clearing 
 away the mysterious haze which surrounds this 
 manuscript, renders the matter still more ag- 
 gravating — Stinton's grandmother was named 
 Edna Narbour. I will not attempt to theorize 
 upon this coincidence. It will avail nothing, 
 as the last descendant of the Narbours was 
 Yates Stinton. 
 
 II.— CONGO SQUARE. 
 
 On Rampart street, between St. Peter and 
 St. Ann, and about five minutes' walk from 
 
152 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Canal street, is Congo Square. It is one of the 
 prettiest parks in New Orleans, having an ele- 
 gant circular fountain in the center and inviting 
 shade trees scattered here and there. It is the 
 favorite resort of children and their nurses, and 
 presents an animated, interesting sight every 
 evening — for the weather is never continuously 
 cold enough in New Orleans to prevent out-door 
 exercise. 
 
 Years ago Congo Square w^as nearly a waste, 
 its tall, rank grass affording convenient hiding 
 places for a dangerous, unruly element w'hich 
 prowled about at night and rendered the localit}^ 
 unsafe for belated pedestrians on Rampart and 
 adjoining streets. The footpads became so 
 bold and their robberies so frequent, that the 
 residents of the Second District organized 
 themselves into a mutual protective association 
 and subscriptions w^ere raised to reclaim and 
 beautify the park. The weeds were cut, trees 
 trimmed, shelled walks laid out and lamp-posts 
 erected where they w^ould do the most good. 
 The thugs and sand-baggers abandoned the 
 locality and reopened business in the neighor- 
 hood of the Old Basin, where their depreda- 
 tions are still narrated with whispered awe. 
 
THE STRANGLER OF CONGO SQUARE, 153 
 
 Not long after the inauguralion of these im- 
 provements, excavations were begun in the cen- 
 ter of the square for the building of the present 
 fountain. One day a workman was seen to sud- 
 denly disappear with a yell of terror, the piled- 
 up earth falling after him. As soon as they had 
 recovered from their surprise, his companions 
 went to his rescue, working cautiously and ap- 
 prehensively, and soon came upon his insensi- 
 ble body. He was brought back to the open 
 air, restoratives w^ere applied and he soon re- 
 gained his senses, proving to have been only 
 badly frightened, but not hurt in the least. In the 
 meantime> his fellow workmen had been inves- 
 tigating the cause of the trouble. They came 
 upon a small tunnel, which, upon being cleared 
 of the debris which choked it, widened into a 
 cave about 20 by 30 feet in diameter. In the cen- 
 ter was found a heap of bones, presumably a 
 human skeleton. Commenting upon the occur- 
 rence, the old iV(?zt^ Orleans Chronicle editorially 
 says : 
 
 "i\bout a year before the breaking out of the 
 Mexican War, this city w^as terrorized by a se- 
 ries of mysterious murders near Congo Square. 
 The victims were invariably women, w^ho w^ere 
 in every instance strangled to death . The police 
 
1^4 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 were kept on the alert from sunset to sunrise, but 
 the fiend was never captured. Several times he 
 was chased and closely pressed, but he seemed 
 to vanish into the air as soon as he entered 
 the Square. The discovery of the cave ex- 
 plains the mystery." 
 
 From what could be ascertained from the 
 musty records on file at the Central Police Sta- 
 tion, this cave was used by the marauders who 
 then infested the localit}^ to hide their plunder, 
 k had long ago been forgotten. 
 
 III._THE STORY. 
 
 In the year 1845, a Spanish company estab- 
 lished a large cigar manufactory in New Orleans, 
 the first of its kind to operate upon an extensive 
 scale in Louisiana. The general manager was 
 one Miguel Zucci, a young man not yet thirty, 
 handsome, conceited, and a boasted twirler of 
 feminine hearts. Having flattering credentials, 
 he was cordiall}^ welcomed into the exclusive 
 social world of the Southern metropolis. 
 
 Alice Narbour, the belle of the ^uartie?' 
 Creole and a reputed flirt, resolved to humble 
 the arrogant Castilian and make him swav to 
 
THE STllANGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. 155 
 
 her every whim and caprice. Her less worldly 
 si:^ter, Edna, warned her to be careful in her 
 behavior towards the young man, as she was 
 afraid the revengeful spirit of his race would 
 prompt him to do her harm should he fall 
 seriously in love with her. But Alice only smiled 
 defiantly and continued to enslave the boastful 
 
 foreigner. 
 
 On a sultry, drizzling evening in June, 1845, 
 the sisters were seated near a window of their 
 fashionable Esplanade Avenue residence, gazing 
 ruefully at the pattering rain. 
 
 "I wonder if our gallant friend will brave 
 the elements?" observed Alice, tracing fan- 
 tastic designs upon the hazy window pane with 
 her rosy finger. '* I presume he will, DooHe. 
 I don't think a West Indian hurricane could 
 
 stop him." 
 
 She laughed and turned to her companion for 
 approval ; but the latter reprovingly said : 
 
 "You should cure yourself of that horrible 
 mania of flirting, dear. No good can come of 
 
 it." 
 
 " Bah, you little morahst ; there's no harm at 
 all. It is pure, simple fun. If men are foolish 
 enough to believe all the nonsense I w^hisper, 
 they are w^orthy to be duped." 
 
156 ROMANCES OF XEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " But you go too far. Look at Miguel's 
 case, for instance. I am sure he loves you 
 truly." 
 
 " Does he? I am indeed glad to hear -it. He 
 thinks too much of liimself and I want to make 
 him feel we are his superiors." 
 
 Edna shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Do as you wish," she said, " but I advise 
 you to leave him alone I" 
 
 '*I can't, Doolie," pouted Ahce. ''He is 
 getting so interesting. I expect him to be at my 
 knees before long." 
 
 Edna took Alice's hand in hers. 
 
 " Do not go that far, dear," she pleaded. "I 
 have a presentiment that evil will happen." 
 
 " Tut, tut. You are a pessimist. It is true 
 he is deplorably conceited, but Miguel is a 
 gentleman after all and would not feel offended 
 if he found out I was flirting him." 
 
 Edna sighed and observed: 
 
 " Keep on, then. But I do not feel at all at 
 ease. Miguel comes of a hot-headed, imperi- 
 ous race, and I am sure he will allow no girl to 
 make fun of him." 
 
 Alice was thoughtful a few moments. 
 
THE STRAXGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. 157 
 
 ' "Do you think he would do anything terrible 
 if I told him I was flirting?" she asked. 
 
 "I do," was the decided answer. "You 
 have been too attentive to him." 
 
 " What can he do? Do you think he would 
 kill me?" 
 
 " I do not say he will go that far, but he will 
 get even some way or other. This life is too 
 short to wilfully make enemies." 
 
 "Miguel my enemy? That would be grand, 
 Doolie. It would be so delightfully romantic. 
 I think I'll try the experiment by giving him his 
 co7ige to-night." 
 
 Edna looked earnestly into her sister's face. 
 
 " Do not do that, Alice. You will regret it. 
 I have noted the expression of his face when he 
 speaks of you, and one can plainly see he loves 
 you desperately." 
 
 Alice sat down on Edna's knees and passed 
 her arms around her neck. 
 
 " You dear, silly, scolding pet, how do you 
 know I do not love him?" she said, in alte'^red. 
 tones. 
 
 Edna looked into the roguish eyes and dubi- 
 ously said: 
 
 " If you do, I make full apologies. But it is 
 
158 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 hard to believe. You are too volatile to think 
 seriously of anything." 
 
 " But I am serious, Doolie. I only want to 
 see what he will say and then I'll consent to be 
 his wife. It looks so provincial to fly into a 
 young man's arms as soon as he confesses his 
 adoration." 
 
 Edna glanced at the whimsical girl and said : 
 
 ''Act according to your fancy, but be prudent. 
 It is a risk}^ thing to trifle with love." 
 
 Alice's answer was a cordial hug, and she 
 resumed her vigil by the window. 
 
 " I wonder what can be keeping him away," 
 she observed. " He is intelligent, and ought 
 to know that no other visitors would dare to 
 come in such weather. It's nearly seven, too. 
 Ah, here he is. Let him think I am alone, 
 DooHe. Run up stairs, and I'll call you when 
 the drama is over." 
 
 "Just as you wish, m}^ dear," said Edna. 
 " But mind what I said." 
 
 ^ She warningly shook her finger and tripped 
 up the carpeted staircase. 
 
 * ****** 
 
 Half an hour later Edna came to the head of 
 the stairs and peeped curiously below. 
 
THE STRANGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. 159 
 
 ''How Still they are down there," she solil- 
 oquized. *' I wonder what they are doing? 
 The gas is not even lit. Miguel couldn't have 
 gone, for Alice would have joined me. Per- 
 haps Alice spoke the truth and really loves him, 
 after all. He is a good match — a little self- 
 loving, it is true, but he is young yet. Girls are 
 so funny, anyhow. I'll just creep to the parlor, 
 and who knows if I will not find them hugging 
 each other? Won't they jump, though, w^hen 
 I poke my head in!" 
 
 She tip-toed softly down and soon reached 
 the parlor. All was silent. ' She stretched her 
 head through the open door, but could not see 
 nor hear anything. Beginning to feel fright- 
 ened, she said: 
 
 *' Alice — Mr. Miguel — where are you? Joking 
 aside, I am afraid." 
 
 No reply. 
 
 '* Oh dear, what can be the matter? Alice, 
 speak out. You know how nervous I am. Oh, 
 you rascals, I'm sure I'll find you on your 
 favorite sofa !" 
 
 .She felt her way to the sofa. It was un- 
 occupied. 
 
160 ROMANCES OF XF\V ORLEANS. 
 
 *' If I only had a light," thought the now 
 terrified girl. 
 
 She felt about for the mantelpiece and found 
 the match-safe. She eagerl}- took out a match 
 and scratched it against the wall. The phos- 
 phorus sputtered, flickered and went out. Not 
 discouraged, the trembling girl lit another 
 match and, as it finally brightly burned, looked 
 searchingh' about. As she did so, her eyes 
 rested upon the insensible form of her sister. 
 .Her senses reeled, she gave a piercing scream 
 and sank into unconsciousness. 
 
 IV._MIGUEL ZUCCrS CONFESSION. 
 
 The subjoined confession, addressed to 
 " Senorita Edna Narbour," and written in 
 Spanish, was found by the editor of this nar- 
 rative in a draw^er of Stinton's cabinet. A 
 faithful translation is given : 
 
 New Orleans, July — , 1845. 
 
 Miss — You have alwavs been so kind to me, 
 I think it proper to bare my heart to vou. Pause 
 and think before censuring me. I loved with an 
 
THE STRANGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. 161 
 
 intensity which bordered on insanity. I was de- 
 ceived * * * The rest all the world knows. 
 
 The papers have been very clamorous about 
 my actions lately. The strangling of that beau- 
 tiful girl last Tuesday seems to have aroused 
 them into a frenzy and the police have increased 
 their vigilance. I fear to creep out of my den, 
 for detection means the gallows. I prefer dying 
 by my own hands. 
 
 I hope you will pardon the breach of etiquette 
 I commit in using a pencil to write this. To- 
 night I w^ill steal out to mail you this communi- 
 cation, but I dare not stir by daylight to get 
 writing materials. I am too weak with hunger 
 and fever and will excite suspicion. 
 
 But I must hurry. My fingers feel stiff and 
 cramped, my eyes burning and misty. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Two weeks ago, while the skies were weeping 
 and the elements turbulent, I sought the only 
 woman on earth I devotedly loved. She met 
 me at the door, a smile on her lips, and said: 
 
 " I was standing at the window and saw you 
 coming, Mr.- Miguel, and thought I might ju^t 
 as well save 3'ou further drenching." 
 
 '' You are very kind," I replied, my heart 
 II 
 
162 ROMANXES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 wildly beating with happiness; "I thought you 
 would give me a lecture for calling in such 
 weather." 
 
 " O no, far from it," was the cordial answer; 
 " I world have felt so lonesome all alone in this 
 dismal house. Doolie took dinner out and has 
 not yet returned, you know." 
 
 We then entered the parlor. We conversed 
 upon current topics, but our remarks gradually 
 became personal. Alice's head being invitingly 
 near, I captured a peeping curl and said : 
 
 "I wish I was the owner of this treasure." 
 
 Alice made no reply, but cast down her eyes. 
 Encouraged, I resumed : 
 
 " I wish I could also possess something dear- 
 er, purer, more sublime — " 
 
 Alice's wondering look stopped me. 
 
 *' What are 3^ou talking about, Mr. Zucci?" 
 she said, with a rudeness which astounded me. 
 " I hate rhetorical phrases. They remind me 
 of oriental salutations." 
 
 " I w^ill be plainer," I said, taking her hand 
 in mine. " I love you." 
 
 " I know you do," answered the girl, with- 
 drawing her hand. 
 
 " Then why do you elude me?" 
 
THE STRANGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. 163 
 
 " Because I do not care for you," was the 
 cold response. 
 
 I smiled incredulously. 
 
 " You are jesting, Alice," I said. 
 
 " No, sir, 1 am not. I was having fun with 
 you, that is all. I was told you hated women 
 and wanted to see if the rumor was unfounded. 
 I see you were courteous enough to make an 
 exception in my case. I presume you will now 
 say I am a flirt?" 
 
 '' Far from it," I answered, a tremor in my 
 tones. " If I fostered such a thought, I would 
 cease to love and respect you. You are too 
 good, too pure, to wound a trusting heart. I 
 understand that a man can be h3^pocritical; but 
 a woman — never. You love me, do you not?" 
 
 I passed my arm around her waist and drew 
 her to me. 
 
 "I — I don't, Mr. Miguel," stammered the 
 girl, frightened by my impetuous words. *'Leave 
 me go, sir. It is getting dark and I must light 
 the gas." 
 
 " Light the gas? Of course not. This would 
 spoil the romance of love making." 
 
 I tried to embrace her, but she struggled and 
 ran away from me. Again I caught her and 
 
164 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 was about to kiss her taunting lips, when she 
 angrily exclaimed: 
 
 " If you are a man of honor, stop instantly I" 
 
 I released my grasp and gazed with frowning 
 features into the orirl's face. 
 
 " Do you really mean this?" I said brokenly. 
 *' Is it possible that you have been toying with 
 me?" 
 
 Alice seemed stung by my peremptory tones 
 and defiantly answered : 
 
 "Assuredly, sir. You are indeed presump- 
 tuous to think otherwise." 
 
 Without a word and before she could make a 
 movement, I seized her by the throat. She 
 tried to scream, but it was too late. Her eyes 
 grew wdld and strange, my clutch tightened, and 
 my darling's fair form fell senseless to the floor. 
 It was only then that I saw the enormity of my 
 crime. But I did not regret it. I had loved, 
 she had nurtured my passion, deceived me, — 
 I could not help it. 
 
 Pardon me, dear miss, if I repeat that I do 
 not regret what I have done. Even now, as I 
 stand on the brink of eternity and think of the 
 tortures an immortal life may mete to my erring 
 soul, I feel happy in the thought that I have 
 
THE STRANGLER OF CONGO SQUARE. IGo 
 
 slain this false girl. God or the devil, whatever 
 be the ruling power where our souls will meet, 
 grant that I may have full control of her spirit, 
 that I may inflict upon it unceasing torments. 
 
 Miguel Zucci. 
 
 THE END. 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER. 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER 
 
 I. 
 
 '*Tonk, tonk, tonk, tonk!" 
 
 The old clock in the banking house of Gi- 
 zaille & Co. discordantly clanked the closing 
 hour; but the sound seemed a melody to the 
 tired clerks. 
 
 "Four o'clock, Lightning," observed Oswald 
 Lepense, playfully tapping Edgar Socsy, the 
 the general book-keeper, on the shoulder. 
 
 Edgar smiled good-humoredly, but there was 
 a tinge of annoyance in his tones as he remark- 
 ed: 
 
 "I can't explain it, but I'm all tangled up. 
 And I wanted to get off early, too." 
 
 "Let me give you a lift," said Oswald. 
 "I'm through for the day." 
 
 Edgar accepted. The young men worked 
 assiduously and had everything in order when 
 the half hour sounded. 
 
 The pair walked home together. The dis- 
 
i70 ROMANCES OF NEW ORI.EAXS. 
 
 tance being short and the air brisk, they cared 
 not to ride. 
 
 "Are you going to the opera to-night?" ven- 
 tured Oswald." 
 
 • 
 
 **No," replied Edgar. "I promised Paulette 
 to bring her to see The Private Secretary at 
 the Grand." 
 
 '* You'll miss a fine treat." 
 
 "Anything extra?" 
 
 "The star is too hoarse to sing and little lyala 
 will take the role of Carmen — Wtll, what's 
 the matter?" 
 
 For Edgar had nearly stopped in his walk and 
 seemed confused about somethinor. 
 
 o 
 
 "Oh, nothing," was the calm reply; "your 
 cigar scorched my hand and it made me feel a 
 little creep}^" 
 
 "I'll prevent further cremation by smoking 
 it," said Oswald. 
 
 He placed the weed to his lips. It was un- 
 lighted ! 
 
 The young man looked searchingly at his 
 companion. 
 
 "You must have been dreaming," he remark- 
 ed. "This cigar has been fireless for at least 
 ten minutes. There is even no smoke in it." 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER. ' 171 
 
 *'I guess my hand put out the last spark," 
 said Edgar, uneasily. 
 
 **Possibly," replied Oswald, incredulousl3^ 
 **If I had such sensitive hands, I'll keep them 
 in my pocket. Well, here's my shanty. Sorry 
 you can't be around to-night." 
 
 "I might drop in during the last act." 
 
 Oswald dubiously shook his head. 
 
 *' Tut, tut," he said; "by the time you escort 
 your betrothed home and bid her good night, 
 everything will be dark around the old French." 
 
 "Anyhow, I'll try," responded Edgar. 
 
 A smile was on his lips, but it was a veil for 
 his tumultuous heart. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oswald Lepense and Edgar Socsy were inti- 
 mate friends. They had studied side by side 
 at Spring Hill College — that historic Jesuit insti- 
 tution which has given so many brilliant lights 
 to the world — and had both graduated with high 
 honors. When they returned to their native 
 city they had found employment in the same 
 bank and w^ere inseparable co-workers. 
 
172 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 The season of French opera had just begun. 
 Manager Lemaire had brought from Europe a 
 delightful troupe, attached to which was a splen- 
 did co7'-ps de ballet. Mile. lyala, \h.Q front ere 
 danseuse^ had from her initial appearance capti- 
 vated the undefended hearts of the 3'ouths and 
 baldheads. Among her clandestine admirers 
 was Edgar Socsy, who took care that his amours 
 were carefully concealed from his fiancee. He 
 loved Paulette sincerely and was certain he 
 would make a kind and model husband, but he 
 saw no harm in having fun with the vivacious 
 little dancer. She would be in romantic Spain, 
 flirting new admirers, long before his wedding 
 day dawned. 
 
 Edgar found Paulette seated pensively near 
 the hre w^hen he entered. Her face beamed 
 w^hen she saw him. 
 
 " How late you are!" she said, helping him 
 to divest himself of his heavy coat. 
 
 "A little more I would have stayed until 6 
 or 7." 
 
 "Another clerk sick? Something is always 
 wrong with your old bank." 
 
 *' No, it was my fault. I got my additions 
 all mixed up. Fortunately, Oswald came to 
 my assistance." 
 
lYAI.A, THE DANCER. 173 
 
 ''How foolish of you! They say you are 
 always so correct and punctual, too. What 
 was the matter to-day?" 
 
 *'I suppose I think too much of 3^ou," was 
 the whispered answer, followed by a kiss. 
 
 She laughingly threatened him with her 
 linger and they sat down for a little chat before 
 dinner. 
 
 '' By the by," observed Paulette, " did you 
 buy tickets for the Grand already?" 
 
 "Yes; here they are." 
 
 The blue eyes had a disappointed look. 
 
 '* I'm sorry you did. I saw by the papers 
 that the French troupe would play Carmen to- 
 night, and I am just dying to see it." 
 
 " But Mile. Minetta is ill and will be replaced 
 by ihii p-emiere danseicse.'' 
 
 " Can she act also ? I thought she could only 
 dance." 
 
 "Oswald told me she would play to-night." 
 
 Paulette was thoughtful a moment. 
 
 "I wish I could go," she said, longingly. 
 
 "It is not too late," remarked Edgar. "I 
 can take a run to the box office immediately af- 
 ter dinner and get two parquets. If these are 
 not obtainable, we can fall back on the/ra//^ 
 e7'es or secondes.'^ 
 
174 ROMAXCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 "And vvliat will you do with the tickets for the 
 Grand." 
 
 "Frame them." 
 
 The girl looked reprovingly at him. 
 
 "No, this would be foolish. We need all the 
 spare cash we have to start house-keeping and 
 it would not do to squander tw^o dollars so reck- 
 lessly. I'll see Carmen another time." 
 
 "Just as you wish, my Queenie," said Edgar. 
 "So long as you are satisfied. I have nothing to 
 say. Come, here's the dinner-bell." 
 
 She took his proffered arm and the}' sought 
 the dinincr-room. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Private Secretary had been given to a 
 crowded house. 
 
 " Do you regret your outburst of economy?" 
 asked Edgar Socsy to his affianced, as they pro- 
 ceeded homeward. 
 
 "No, indeed," w^as the response. " I am 
 delighted wdth the play." 
 
 An assertion which she proved by making it 
 her entire theme until they reached home. The 
 lovers then separated, Paulette seeking her rooni 
 
IVALA, THE DANCER. 175 
 
 and Edgar going as far as his own, but silently 
 stealing out a few moments afterward. He had 
 to keep his word with Oswald. 
 
 Mile. lyalahad scored an unp.iralleled success. 
 Her acting was voted superb and tiie young 
 bloods went wild over her. 
 
 " It is evident that her talents do not clinor to 
 her feet," whispered Oswald to a companion. 
 
 Edi^ar found onlv standing room, but man- 
 aged to crowd to the fro-nt and was soon satis- 
 fied his ideal had noticed him. Yes, she even 
 seemed to glance straight at him when she 
 trilled her most passionate love songs, and he 
 felt more bewitched than ever. 
 
 A private room in the Cafe des Artistes held 
 a gay couple that night. For the first time, 
 lyala had consented to honor Edgar with her 
 sole companionship, and ere the supper was 
 over, had promised to reject other suitors and 
 love only him. 
 
 For a few weeks the lovers were happy. But 
 slighted rivals became jealous of Edgar's mo- 
 nopoly, and one morning an anonymous letter 
 disclosed the state of affairs to Paulette. She 
 flushed indignantly at such an insinuation and 
 resolved at once to seek her betrothed and hear 
 
176 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 the truth from his own Hps. It was not yet ten, 
 and she could never wait until evening with 
 such a burden on her mind. 
 
 "A lady wishes to speak to Mr. Socsy," said 
 the janitor. 
 
 Edgar stepped out and was not a little 
 surprised to see his fiancee. With much self- 
 control she requested a few moments' secret 
 conversation. Edgar bade her enter the pri- 
 vate office and she showed him the traitorous 
 letter. The young man's face blanched as he 
 read the missive. 
 
 " Is this true?" asked Paulette, falteringly. 
 
 He made no reply, but gazed stupidly at her. 
 
 "Answerl" she angrily said, grasping his 
 arm. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, do not make a scene 
 here, Paulette,'' pleaded Edgar, looking ap- 
 prehensivel}' at the door. 
 
 "Pride will not permit me to do so," was the 
 calm reply. " You then admit you have been 
 fooling me? " 
 
 "I — I did not do so to — " 
 
 "Answer yes or no." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you will see her again to-night?" 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER. 177 
 
 "She expects me." 
 
 Paulette looked her lover full in the face. 
 
 "If you do," she said, determinedly, *'all is 
 over between us. I forgive you so far because 
 I love you, but if you even speak to that serpent 
 again, you may obliterate me from your memory. 
 That is all. Edgar. Do not let your face betray 
 us . ' ' 
 
 They smilingly left the room, the envious 
 clerks craning their necks to catch a glimpse of 
 the lovely girl. 
 
 "Socsy is a lucky dog," said Oswald, in an 
 audible whisper. 
 
 Edgar smiled feebly in acknowledgment and 
 resumed his duties. But his co-workers re- 
 marked he was inexplicabh' ill at ease as the 
 hours sped by. 
 
 IV. 
 
 "Tonk, tonk, tonk, tonk!" 
 
 Edgar roused himself from his reveries and 
 gazed vacantly at his open book. His work 
 was hardly half finished. 
 
 Oswald, whose chief aim in life was not to 
 tarry at the bank as soon as the last stroke of 
 
178 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 four had sounded, reached for his hat, prepara- 
 tory to going home. Edgar beckoned to him. 
 
 '' Well, what's the racket?" was the cheery 
 remark. 
 
 Edgar pointed to the blank pages. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed his surprised friend. 
 "You may just as well send home for your 
 pillow, Slowcoach. I've been watching you, 
 and I am decidedly glad she does not come here 
 every day. Why, how pale you are!" 
 
 "'I do not feel well, Os., and want you to 
 balance for me. I had better go home and 
 rest.'" 
 
 For answer, Oswald placed his hat on its 
 accustomed peg. 
 
 " Clear out, then," he said pleasanth-. "Not 
 having any blue eyes and g(jlden hair to render 
 me idiotic, I'll post that book in a jiffy." 
 
 Edgar thankfully pressed his hand and de- 
 parted. He did not go home, but sought lyaia 
 and explained his predicament to her. 
 
 "We must part, Yola," he said, regretful^. 
 " I did not want to cowardly abandon you. I 
 can not break the poor orphan's heart. Not 
 only would I feel miserable, but the whole 
 world will blame me/' 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER.. 179 
 
 lyala's eyes were aflame with anger. 
 
 '* So you really love her?" she said. 
 
 Edgar looked up in genuine surprise. 
 
 '' Of course, Yola." 
 
 *' Why have you been telling me such lies, if 
 3^ou love another? You swore you were faith- 
 ful to me." 
 
 *' But a fiancee is a different thing, Yola," 
 observed Edgar, frightened by her fervid pas- 
 sion. •' She will be my wife." 
 
 '• x\nd I am only your toy?" 
 
 Her red lips curled contemptuously. 
 
 '' Don't be absurd, Yola," observed Edgar. 
 
 *'You surely did not expect that I would 
 marry you." 
 
 *' I do not care for a priest's blessing nor the 
 stupidities of law. I love you and I intend to 
 keep you." 
 
 •^' You must be reasonable, Yola. Think of 
 the scandal which will burst out if you act un- 
 wisely. Old Gizaille is the cream of morality 
 and will surely discharge me." 
 
 There was a baleful look on lyala'a eyes and 
 she was pensive a few moments. She presently 
 observed: 
 
 ''Do you remember the first night I played 
 Carmen?" 
 
180 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Edgar nodded. 
 
 *' Do you recall what prompted Don Jose to 
 kill his sweetheart?'" 
 
 **Yes." 
 
 The dark eyes sparkled dangerously. 
 
 "I always did approve him," was the calm 
 obsjsrvation. k 
 
 Edgar laughed mockingly. 
 
 •'The senoritas of Seville are ferocious, my 
 dear," he said. '-Adieu, tigress."' 
 
 He bowed ceremoniously and departed. He 
 met Oswald while walking down Bourbon 
 street and told him everything in confidence. 
 
 "You had better be on 3'our guard," was the 
 parting caution. "I ahvays heard that those 
 dark-eyed girls were holy terrors." 
 
 Edgar shrugged his shoulders and proceeded 
 homeward. Paulette welcomed him with cus- 
 tomary tenderness. When they were alone, 
 she sat nearer to him and said: 
 
 '•Have you chosen?" 
 
 Edgar took the cold little hand in his. 
 
 "You are still my queen," he fondly said. 
 * 'Forgive me." 
 
 A tear gemmed her lashes. 
 
 "You nearly broke my heart," was the gen- 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER. 181 
 
 tie response; "I see you love me dearly, how- 
 ever, and make no reproaches.'" 
 
 They remained pensive for some time. Paul- 
 ette finally observed : 
 
 **I hear that the second representation of 
 6'«r;;/^« takes place to-night. Will you escort 
 me?'" 
 
 Edgar's heart throbbed irregularly. 
 
 *4 would be very happy to do so,'' he said, 
 with forced cheerfulness, "but it is impossible 
 to get seats. The box office was jammed when 
 I passed Verlouin's music store this evening." 
 
 Paulette smilingly thrust her hand within her 
 bosom and held forth a small envelope. 
 
 "I anticipated the rush and bought those 
 since yesterda}^ Am I not a fine business 
 woman?" 
 
 '^Indeed you are,'" said Edgar, with feigned 
 admiration. 
 
 Aye, the Fates were cruelly probing his 
 wounded heart. 
 
 V. 
 
 Never before had the role of Carmen been 
 played with such fervency. The bravi were 
 
182 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 continuous and deafening. lyala's sinuous 
 form swayed beautifully, her voice was loud 
 and clear, her aplomb inimitable. 
 
 Pale and resHess, Edgar watched her e very- 
 movement. She had noticed him from the 
 first and had acted solely to enchain and be- 
 wilder him. He felt her glances penetrate to 
 the inmost recesses of his soul. Would she be 
 mad enough to carry out her threat? No, such 
 things only happened in novels. 
 
 The curtain fell on the last scene amid 
 tumultuous applause. The vast audience gaily 
 filed out, praising the fair young actress. Like 
 one in a dream, Edgar followed the crowd, 
 making monosyllabic replies to Paulette's chat- 
 ter. When they reached the foyer, lie stopped 
 to help the girl arrange her wraps. Some one 
 touched him lightly on the shoulder. He turned 
 around and perceived lyala, her eyes flaming, 
 her hand concealed within the folds of her cor- 
 sage. 
 
 *' The senoritas of Seville honor their vows,'* 
 she said, swiftly raising her arm. There was a 
 gleam, a startled cry from Paulette, and those 
 who looked back in affright saw Edgar Socsy 
 totter and fall. 
 
lYALA, THE DANCER. 183 
 
 ** Clang! clang I clang!" 
 
 The ambulance rushes through the deserted 
 streets. r\s it dashes around corners and 
 rumbles through the narrow thoroughfares, 
 loudly sounding its warning, revelers returning 
 from the French Opera House pause a moment 
 in their laudations of lyala to conjecture what 
 unfortunate is in need of help ; but before they 
 have collected their bewildered thoughts, the 
 wagon of mercy has disappeared in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 '* Clang! clang! clang, clang!'' 
 
 Cars stop, carriages give precedence, people 
 hurry out of the way. 
 
 ^'C-1-a-n-g!" 
 
 The crowd presses eagerly forward as the 
 wagon stops. The students alight, ryn up the 
 ancient stairway — 
 
 But it is too late. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE DEATH-ANGEL 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
THE DEATH-ANGEL. 
 
 A Legexd of the Middle Ages. 
 
 The historical events which furnish the basis 
 for this narrative happened centuries ago, when 
 civilized Europe trembled with apprehension at 
 the frequent impetuous inroads of oriental and 
 occidental fanatics, whose inherent belief in 
 predestination rendered them fearless of peril. 
 
 It was at that epoch that the Christian kings, 
 becoming alarmed at the audacious invasion of 
 the infidels, sanctioned the organization of the 
 various military and religious orders which 
 flourished in the Old World for nearly two 
 hundred years. These societies worked con- 
 temporaneously with the crusades and were 
 chiefly instrumental in preventing the standard 
 of Mahomet from penetrating into Central 
 Europe. 
 
 When the second crusade was organized, 
 among those who joined Conrad III, Emperor 
 of Germany, in his zealous pilgrimage to the 
 
186 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Holy Land, was Prince Inwelf , an officer of the 
 Imperial Staff. 
 
 Inwelf followed his sovereign throughout his 
 unfortunate campaign in Asia Minor. When 
 the Christian army was eventually cut to pieces 
 by the irrepressible adherents of Noureddin, 
 the infidel leader, and forced to retreat, the 
 young prince was made prisoner and sent to 
 Damascus. His captors being aware of his 
 rank, demanded a large ransom. This not 
 being forthwith obtainable, the captive was sent 
 under a strong escort to an inland town, 
 Damascus being adjudged too insecure. 
 
 When about two days' journey from their 
 destination, the escort was attacked b\^ a no- 
 madic band of desert pilferers and over- 
 powered. Inwelf valiantly defended himself, 
 but the odds against him were too powerful. 
 He soon succumbed, pierced through the breast 
 by a scimitar thrust. 
 
 After assuring themselves that those com- 
 posing the escort were either all dead or mor- 
 tally wounded, the brigands hurried away, 
 carrying with them whatever booty they could 
 appropriate. 
 
 As the hours glided by, Inwelf intently 
 

 THE DEATH-ANGEL. 189 
 
 watched the waning moon. i\s it gradually 
 grew less discernable, a feeling of uncontrolla- 
 ble fear possessed him. 
 
 O Moon I " he cried, almost deliriously, 
 you are the only Iriend whose face I will ever 
 aoain see on earth. Do not abandon me in my 
 last moments. Though your rays are feeble, 
 they are a consolation, and I feel less lonesome 
 when they linger over me. Do not leave me. 
 I am afraid to be alone." 
 
 As he ceased speaking, it seemed to Inwelf 
 that the Queen of Night shone brighter and 
 friendlier; but the illusion was momentary, for 
 its beams grew fainter and fainter as the mjn- 
 utes sped by. 
 
 *' O Moon ! " again implored the youth, "you 
 who have so often borne me company in my 
 rovings, why do you desert me to-night? If 
 you can not stay, send one of your beams to 
 keep me company, that I may die in your em- 
 brace.'" 
 
 No sooner were these words uttered, than 
 the desert was illumined by a soft, glowing 
 light, as it some intensely iridescent object 
 were near. Smiling gratefully at the moon, 
 Inwelf closed his eves. He heard a gentle 
 
190 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 noise and looked vvonderingly about. A fem- 
 inine form approached. In welt saw it was a 
 being of exquisite grace and loveliness and his 
 whole soul was thrilled with ardent love. He 
 made an effort to arise, but sank back ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 '•You have called for a moon-beam to bear 
 you company," began the apparition, in a voice 
 of delicate sweetness and fervency; ''I have 
 heard your appeals and have come to silence 
 them. Why are you so timorous to-night, you 
 who so often fought with undaunted valor? 
 Why afraid of the darkness, 3'ou who have 
 many times gallantly warred, with not even the 
 friendly moon-beam to direct your movements? 
 Noticing how rapidly your courage was for- 
 saking you — seeing how childish you were 
 growing, I have come to relieve you of all ter- 
 restrial cares, and speed your soul into the 
 Happy Land," 
 
 As Inwelf heard those words, his fear and 
 astonishment were displaced by a feeling of un- 
 detined adoration. Eagerly extending his arms, 
 he exclaimed: 
 
 "' Who are you, most beauteous Seraph, from 
 whose lips such celestial wisdom flows? You 
 
THE DEATH-ANGEL. 191 
 
 have no doubt eluded the vigilance of the guar- 
 dians of Paradise, for no mortal has such elo- 
 quent thoughts. Now that you are near, death 
 has no terrors for me. Oh, how sweet, how 
 delightful to die, if one could spend his eternal 
 life beside you ! You divine well that death 
 claims me and have no doubt come to lead me 
 into the Invisible Land. Slay me, sweet one ! 
 Though I know not who you are, I gladly sway 
 to your will." 
 
 "Ignorant youth, to speak thus," was the 
 gentle reproof, in tones of argentine cadence. 
 *' Have you not heard of the wanderings of 
 Nisrilu, emissary of the Death-Deity? Know 
 you not that I am timed to visit the earth; that 
 my mission is to ease anguish? By simply 
 touching a mortal, I release his soul from its 
 case of clay and his body becomes indifferent 
 to the corrosive influence of mundane elements 
 — unless a mortal profanes it by his touch, 
 when it crumbles into dust. I have sent more 
 souls into Paradise than there are stars in the 
 firmament. Your death will not be violent, for 
 you will be ushered into the realms of immor- 
 tality with your features as undisturbed as those 
 of a sleeping child," 
 
192 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Nisrilu approached Inwelf. Her hand was 
 nearly on his brow, when he shrank back and 
 piteously cried : 
 
 ''Before you still my frame, most adorable 
 Nisriluj tell me whence } ou come — speak of 
 your past existence. My wound no longer 
 troubles me; your presence has proved its 
 nepenthe.'' 
 
 "So long as I am nigh,'' replied Nisrilu, 
 staying her hand, "you shall experience no 
 suffering. The indelicacy of your query places 
 you in imminent peril and my indignation 
 prompts me lo leave you to your fate; but you 
 are so voung, so forlorn, that I will satisfy your 
 pardonable curiositv. You are the first mortal 
 who has pried into my past life without being 
 punished. * * * Listen: More than three 
 thousand moons ago, during the caliphate of 
 Haroun-al-Rashid, of the dynasty of the Abas- 
 sidos. there dwelt near Mecca a venerable 
 chieftain named Hiafar. He had for his com- 
 panion a young daughter known as Nisrilu, 
 reputed to be a rare type of Arabian loveliness. 
 Haroun heard of Nisrilu's charms and com- 
 manded Hiafar to send her to his harem. The 
 father indignantly refused. Enraged by what 
 
THE DEATH-ANGEI.. 193 
 
 he considered an affront, the caliph sent a large 
 body of men to carry off the child and con- 
 fiscate the father's possessions. Hiafar re- 
 sisted and was put to death. As for Nisrilii, 
 she never could be found. It is recorded on 
 the tablets of Arabian legendary- lore that the 
 Houris, taking pity on the persecuted girl, 
 transported her to Paradise and made her im- 
 mortal. Tradition also says that when the 
 moon is in its last quarter, Nisrilu is allowed to 
 revisit her native land. She seeks the battle 
 fields of her race, her mission being to assuage 
 the torments of the wounded. Although you 
 are a giaour, your features please me and I will 
 now lead you into our glorious land. You have 
 caused me to tarr\^ so long, that you are the 
 only one I can solace to-night. Look, the 
 moon's last beam is dying! '" 
 
 Nisrilu placed her hand on Inwelf's brow 
 and softly caressed him. The youth attempted 
 to resist the somnolent sensation which over- 
 mastered him and made an effort to speak. His 
 lips trembled, parted— but no sound issued. 
 Wearily closing his eyes, he felt an irresistible 
 
 languor and sank into unconsciousness. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Forty years elapsed between the second and 
 13 
 
194 UOMAXCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 third crusades. During that interval, the in- 
 fidels had ravaged Palestine and made the king 
 of Jerusalem prisoner. This and other out- 
 rages finally aroused the avenging spirit of the 
 Christians and another crusade was organized, 
 led bv the emperor of German}' and the kings 
 of France and England. 
 
 After many reverses and a few successes, a 
 truce was concluded between the hostile forces, 
 the Christian army gaining the advantage. 
 
 On their return from Palestine, while cross- 
 ing a particularly arid plain, the remnant of 
 England's brave soldier}', led by Richard 
 Coeur-de-Lion, perceived an oasis in the dis- 
 tance and eagerly hurried toward it. When 
 the king came upon the stragglers, he saw 
 them grouped wonderingly about an object on 
 the ground. Answering his inquiring look, one 
 of his suite observed: 
 
 '* Here sleeps a handsome knight, your high- 
 ness. He looks so happy, so tranquil, that we 
 wonder why the desert blasts were so lenient 
 to him. I fain will awake him, for those 
 ghouhsh infidels will slay him after we are 
 gone." 
 
 The courtier stooped and laid his hand on 
 
THE DEATH-AXGEL. 195 
 
 the youth's shoulder to arouse him — but he 
 merely grasped a handful of ashes, 
 
 ***** 
 
 Even to this day, as the weary traveler plods 
 his way through tlie vast solitudes of the East 
 and the penetrating dust-clouds beset him, the 
 natives reverently remark : 
 
 " These are the ashes ot the happy dead ; 
 the work of our beautiful Death-Angel!" 
 
 THE END 
 
SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 u 
 
 SMILES AND TEARS," 
 
 NOW IN COURSE OF PREPARATION, 
 
PARDONABLE CURIOSITY. 
 
 They were lovers, though the secret 
 
 Never wholly had been told, 
 For she was a roguish maiden 
 
 And reproved his passion bold. 
 '' Mother will feel too distressful 
 
 If you carry me away," 
 Pouted she — and no persuasion 
 
 Could that resolution swav. 
 
 One day he sought consolation 
 
 In wild roamings through the wood, 
 And soon came upon a streamlet 
 
 Where the landscape mirrored stood, 
 Long he gazed into the waters, 
 
 Laughing, rippling at his feet. 
 Thinking of his truant sweetheart, 
 
 Without whom life was effete. 
 
 Soon he saw the cherished outlines 
 
 Of a face dehghtful, dear, 
 Slowly forming, archly smiling, 
 
 In the tranquil waters clear. 
 
200 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 •• 'T is a vision," fondly mused he, 
 •' Of a face I'll ever seek, 
 And my wounded heart seems solaced"- 
 But he stopped, for on his cheek 
 
 He felt the sensation thrilling 
 
 Of a breath like Heaven's w^ind, 
 And a voice with gladness faltered 
 As an arm his neck entwined: 
 '• Girls are curious" — and the bright eyes 
 
 Sought again the singing brook — 
 '• And I peeped just to discover 
 
 How vour future wife will look!" 
 
 THE ANGRY PESSIMIST. 
 
 Heed not what those red lips smiling 
 
 Murmur lowly unto you. 
 Nor the look of love enthralling 
 
 Beaming in those eyes so blue. 
 Take care that those hands caressing 
 
 Fetter not your heart now free; 
 Push away those arms entrancing 
 
 Held forth with such childish glee. 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 
 
 Love has but a brief existence 
 
 In that bosom young and fair — 
 Has not e'en the frail consistence 
 
 Of the evanescent air. 
 Shun that dulcet voice melodious, 
 
 Toy not with that straggling curl — 
 Naught on earth is so perfidious 
 
 As this ever-pleasant girl. 
 
 False the tears which gem her lashes, 
 
 False her pensive, downcast eytis; 
 And her simulated blushes 
 
 Glow on cheeks where candor dies. 
 Obey not those rich lips sentient 
 
 Pouting for a lover's kiss — 
 Ere the sun adorns the Orient 
 
 They will prove to you remiss. 
 
 201 
 
 MY SWEET LULETTE. 
 
 Since from her side she bid me go, 
 My sweet Lulelte, 
 
 My cheeks have lost their blissful glow, 
 Sered by regret ; 
 
202 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Her pouting lips my thoughts beguile. 
 
 Make me upstart. 
 And day and night her cruel smile 
 
 Appalls my heart. 
 
 I know this face which makes me start 
 
 1 should accurse; 
 For memories dear to my heart 
 
 Hate I should nurse ; 
 I know the blush which tints her cheek 
 
 Is falsehood's seal, 
 But when dark eyes pardon seek. 
 
 My senses reel. 
 
 When evening's glare swift disappears 
 
 Mid shades of night ; 
 When glorious Luna coyly peers 
 
 And charms the sight; 
 When Philomel trills loud and clear 
 
 In yonder glade, 
 I feel that nothing is so dear 
 
 As this false maid. 
 
 This life is such a weary span, 
 
 Why should we grieve, 
 
 And wait till cheeks are withered, wan 
 Ere we forgive? 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 
 
 203 
 
 Though I well know she's wayward, flirt, 
 
 My sweet Lulette, 
 Her witchery my soul's deep hurt 
 
 Makes me forget. 
 
 THE GIRL-SUICIDE. 
 
 The tear-wet eyes no pain disclose, 
 
 The blood-stained breast is freed from sighs 
 
 The anguished soul has sought repose 
 Within the realms of paradise. 
 
 She loved, she sinned— and mercy craved 
 From marble hearts who spurned her plea; 
 
 Despairing, lost, adjudged depraved, 
 
 Grim Charon's arms she grasped with glee. 
 
 The father kneehng by his child, 
 
 A frenzied feeling in his breast, 
 With cruel curses once reviled 
 
 Her trembling form with woe oppressed. 
 
 The throngs that scan her girlish face 
 And deck her bier with roses sweet, 
 [n life had naught but thorns to place 
 Beneath her wearied, erring feet. 
 
204 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Pride in this world so soon is crushed. 
 Life so replete with grief and fears, 
 
 Why wait till hearts their throbs have hushed 
 To shed regretful, useless tears? 
 
 Thus has it been for cycles past, 
 So will it be till mankind dies — 
 
 We seek to ease the lives we blast 
 When taunting Death all arts defies. 
 
 ESTRANGED. 
 
 Peace? The word can ne'er be told, 
 For the slighted heart is cold: 
 Naught but everlasting hate 
 In my bosom you create. 
 
 Love ? Your cruel wiles have slain it 
 And your falsity entombed it: 
 Let its grave remain unsullied, 
 Let its ashes mould unpitied. 
 
 Go — I see your purpose fell: 
 Pardon would you have me tell? 
 I'd see you writhe in Hades' flame 
 Ere from vour hand I mercv claim. 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 20o 
 
 BABY. 
 
 [To Master Adolph DeBIavc.'] 
 
 Hush I Speak low and softly, step with mufHed 
 
 tread — 
 Baby is reposing in its cozy bed. 
 He is such a rover, plays and screams so 
 
 much. 
 That, poor thing, he's tired — No, not e'en a 
 
 touch ! 
 When his eyes he opens you may kisses 
 
 take : 
 Do not now caress him. lest he should awake. 
 
 You ought to have seen him when he came to 
 me 
 
 And, his eyes half-closing, sought m}- arms 
 with glee. 
 
 •'How much do you love me, darling baby- 
 boy?" 
 
 Asked I, kissing, eating, those plump cheeks 
 with joy. 
 
 Swift the little bare arms wide were spread 
 apart 
 
 And the wee Hps babbled: "Big like Papa's 
 heart!'- 
 
206 ROMANCES OF XEVV ORLEANS. 
 
 He can count to twenty, names the months and 
 
 years, 
 Gets his Papa's slippers when his step he 
 
 hears. 
 He repeats his prayers without troublous aid — 
 But is oft in dreamland ere the end is said. 
 He is — O, the rascal, see his eyes so blue 
 Gazing at us. shining like the sparkling dew! 
 
 TIN-A-FEEX. 
 
 [The odd character depicted below is a familiar type in New Orleans, 
 His outfit consists of a small furnace, a few tools and some solder. His 
 business is to renovate tin utensils, his outlandish cry being a corrup- 
 tion of " Any tin to fix. "J 
 
 The morning light was dawning fast, 
 As through the streets there slowly passed 
 A man, who clutched with grimy hand 
 A furnace, on which there was penned: 
 " Tix-a-Feex! " 
 
 His eyes were dull, his clothes besplashed 
 His face looked like a berry smashed; 
 x\nd like a Choctaw's war-cry rang 
 The accents of his deaf'ning twang: 
 '' Tin-a-Feex! " 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 207 
 
 Through halt-oped gates his neck he craned 
 And his vocation loud explained, 
 In tones which made the liouse-girls wild. 
 And tired mankind's rest beguiled: 
 " Tin-a-Feex! " 
 
 Go pawn your voice,'" the newsboy said. 
 And lose the ticket, shaggy head, 
 Ere with a mud ball you are sprawled." 
 But with a scowl the old man bawled: 
 '' Tix-a-^Feex! " 
 
 O, fiend!" the nervous man complained, 
 I wish in Hades you were chained!" 
 A fierce light glowered in his e3^e — 
 But still uprose that ceaseless cry: 
 •^ Tin-a-Feex! ** 
 
 Meander in this cozy place, 
 And with some rye your thirst displace." 
 Thus spake the saloon-keeper sly, 
 As nearer drew that startling cry: 
 '' Tin-a-Feex! " 
 ******* 
 x\t dead of night, as clanging fast, 
 The patrol wagon rattled past, 
 From 'neath a crumbling kitchen stair 
 A voice roared through the tranquil air: 
 ^' Tin-a-Feex! " 
 
208 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 A maudlin man the guardians bold 
 Soon in tTieir grasp did firmly hold; 
 Aloft he waved a furnace small, 
 On which was writ this mud-stained scrawl 
 '' Tin-a-FeexI " 
 
 Upon the wagon's hardened floor, 
 They rushed him to the prison door; 
 Then, as the turnkey locked him in, 
 He yelled forth with uproarious din : 
 '*Tin-a-Feex! " 
 
 THE FLEETING IDEAL. 
 
 I. 
 
 As a thoughtful youth was strolling 
 
 Up a scenic Alpine path, 
 Under dewy bowers lolling 
 
 To escape the sunlight's wrath — 
 He came to a gurgling fountain, 
 
 From which flowed a torrent deep. 
 Leaping swiftly down the mountain 
 
 With a reverberant sweep. 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 209 
 
 As he gazed about, delighted, 
 
 He descried a lovely girl 
 On the sparkling verdure seated, 
 
 Toying with a straying curl. 
 
 She was graceful, tall and lissom, 
 
 With eyes of the softest blue, 
 And her face, so frank and handsome, 
 
 Mirrored what her pure heart knew. 
 'Neath her throat was clasped a myrtle, 
 
 Symbol of love deep and true, 
 And a bridal rose did nestle 
 
 In her hair of golden hue. 
 And the blood her face was mantling 
 
 As her cherub lips confessed 
 To the youth the thoughts ennobling 
 
 Nurtured in her virgin breast: 
 
 " I am Virtue. 
 
 For long ages 
 
 Have I waited, prayed for thee. 
 And on Time's eternal pages 
 
 Have I traced thy name with glee. 
 When thou wert by God created. 
 
 In my bosom Love was born, 
 And I knew I would be mated 
 
 To thee one resplendent morn. 
 
210 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 I will, sweet one, be as constant 
 
 As the sun which gems the sky, 
 And I will my every moment 
 
 Spend in bliss if thou art nigh. 
 Come, let those arms sweetly fold thee, 
 
 Let those lips by man unpressed 
 Kiss away the cares that shroud thee 
 
 And assuage thy soul distressed." 
 
 She stretched forth her white arms fondly, 
 
 Calling him by names most dear — 
 But the stoic youth gazed coldly, 
 
 Heeding not her fair lips near. 
 Pushing back the bare arms lovely 
 
 Held forth with such witchery. 
 Smiling at her girlish folly. 
 
 From her presence sauntered he. 
 And poor Virtue's eyes grew misty. 
 
 Sunbeams shunned the sighing air: 
 But the Fates, scorning pity, 
 
 Tolled the tocsin of despair. 
 
 II. 
 
 Soon the youth espied a grotto 
 Gaily decked with flowers rare, 
 
 On which was inscribed this motto: 
 ^''Here dwells Love, the Debonair J' ' 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 211 
 
 On a couch reclined a maiden, 
 
 Young, voluptuous, sensuous, fair, 
 And with lips like roses laden 
 
 With a ruby's lurid glare. 
 Smiling, she bade him draw nearer, 
 
 Smoothed a place for him to rest. 
 Plucking leaf by leaf a larkspur 
 
 Which her restless fingers pressed. 
 
 ''Of thy life I was a portion," 
 
 Murmured she in accents low, 
 "Loving thee with wild emotion. 
 
 In the shadowed long ago. 
 While thou wert my ardent lover 
 
 x\nd with joy m}- being thrilled, 
 I thought that my faith would waver 
 
 Only when m}^ heart was stilled. 
 But my mood was gay and changeful, 
 
 x\nd another's arms I sought, 
 Giving thee, so proud, disdainful, 
 
 Not a solitary thought. 
 Aye, f-orgive I Entwine your darling 
 
 As in days when bliss supreme 
 Sceptred us with sway enthralling 
 
 And made life a radiant dream I" 
 
 Her voice with deep passion trembled 
 As those burning words she said. 
 
212 ROMANCES OF NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 And, with fervency dissembled. 
 
 Drew his lips to hers so red. 
 But the unmoved youth repelled her. 
 
 Would not e'en glance allows 
 And with harsh reproaches left her. 
 
 Striding off with furrowed brow. 
 With a sob the fickle maiden 
 
 Watched her lover fade from sicrht: 
 But ere stars on high did glisten. 
 
 Others made her sorrow light. 
 
 III. 
 
 Evening's glare was slowly mingling 
 
 With the shades of nascent night 
 As the youth came to a dwelling i 
 
 In an arbor hid from sight. 
 Muffled strains of music thrilling 
 
 Charmed his soul, erst passive, dre; 
 And he heard a sweet voice trilling 
 
 Sonnets fond in accents clear. 
 As he stood and raptly listened 
 
 To that soft, melodious voice. 
 His eyes with emotion glistened 
 
 And he felt his heart rejoice. 
 
 With his senses madly whirling 
 And a palpitating heart, 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 213 
 
 Entered he the wondrous dwelling, 
 
 Conquered by the chanter's art. 
 Seated where the sunlight waning 
 
 Sent a pallid, fading beam, 
 Was a girl with dark eyes shining 
 
 Like the diamond's dazzling gleam. 
 At the stranger archly smiling, 
 
 For a moment waited she; 
 Then her guitar idly fondling, 
 
 Weirdly sang this strain with glee : 
 
 ^'I am Pride. 
 
 A kind thought never 
 
 Found a haven in my breast, 
 x\nd I slay with joy each lover 
 
 Whom my beauty hath distressed. 
 Tremble, youth, while sweet I warble 
 
 And with melody enchain 
 Heart of thine erst cold as marble, 
 
 Vaunted proof 'gainst worldly pain. 
 In ni}^ eyes the starlight's lustre 
 
 Finds a dangerous retreat — 
 See, one glance thy heart doth shatter. 
 
 Brings thee, pleading, at my feet. 
 Nay, I never will accord thee 
 
 Even momentary joy: 
 Foolish youth, I look upon thee 
 
 Merely as a pleasing toy ! '' 
 
214 ROMANCES OF x\E\V ORLEANS. 
 
 Eyes aflame with baleful anger, 
 
 Shining, star-like, through the gloom, 
 With a taunting peal of laughter. 
 
 Fled she from the scented room. 
 Gazed the youth with heart swift-beating. 
 
 As one thralled with sorcery; 
 Then, with eager cry upstarting, 
 
 In wild pursuit darted he. 
 
 l' ENVOY. 
 
 Though this transient world may mould. 
 
 As the countless ages roll. 
 What one seeks from man to hold 
 
 Will he struggle to control. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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