Dr. Sevier Part 53

Richling sprang to his feet. "For what? He hasn't"--

"Yes, sir; he has discovered the man who robbed him, and has killed him."

Richling started away, but halted as the Doctor spoke again, rising from his seat and shaking out his legs.

"He's not suffering any hardship. He's shrewd, you know,--has made arrangements with the keeper by which he secures very comfortable quarters. The star-chamber, I think they call the room he is in. He'll suffer very little restraint. Good-day!"

He turned, as Richling left, to get his own hat and gloves. "Yes," he thought, as he pa.s.sed slowly downstairs to his carriage, "I have erred."

He was not only teaching, he was learning. To fight evil was not enough.

People who wanted help for orphans did not come to him--they sent. They drew back from him as a child shrinks from a soldier. Even Alice, his buried Alice, had wept with delight when he gave her a smile, and trembled with fear at his frown. To fight evil is not enough. Everybody seemed to feel as though that were a war against himself. Oh for some one always to understand--never to fear--the frowning good intention of the lonely man!

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

"PETTENT PRATE."

It was about the time, in January, when clerks and correspondents were beginning to write '59 without first getting it '58, that Dr. Sevier, as one morning he approached his office, noticed with some grim amus.e.m.e.nt, standing among the brokers and speculators of Carondelet street, the baker, Reisen. He was earnestly conversing with and bending over a small, alert fellow, in a rakish beaver and very smart coat, with the blue flowers of modesty bunched saucily in one b.u.t.ton-hole.

Almost at the same moment Reisen saw the Doctor. He called his name aloud, and for all his ungainly bulk would have run directly to the carriage in the middle of the street, only that the Doctor made believe not to see, and in a moment was out of reach. But when, two or three hours later, the same vehicle came, tipping somewhat sidewise against the sidewalk at the Charity Hospital gate, and the Doctor stepped from it, there stood Reisen in waiting.

"Toctor," he said, approaching and touching his hat, "I like to see you a minudt, uff you bleace, shtrict prifut."

They moved slowly down the unfrequented sidewalk, along the garden wall.

"Before you begin, Reisen, I want to ask you a question. I've noticed for a month past that Mr. Richling rides in your bread-carts alongside the drivers on their rounds. Don't you know you ought not to require such a thing as that from a person like Mr. Richling? Mr. Richling's a gentleman, Reisen, and you make him mount up in those bread-carts, and jump out every few minutes to deliver bread!"

The Doctor's blood was not cold.

"Vell, now!" drawled the baker, as the corners of his mouth retreated toward the back of his neck, "end't tat teh funn'est ting, ennahow! Vhy, tat iss yoost teh ferra ting fot I comin' to shpeak mit you apowdt udt!"

He halted and looked at the Doctor to see how this coincidence struck him; but the Doctor merely moved on. "_I_ toant make him too udt," he continued, starting again; "he c.u.mps to me sindts apowdt two-o-o mundts aco--ven I shtill feelin' a liddle veak, yet, fun teh yalla-feewa--undt yoost paygs me to let um too udt. 'Mr. Richlun,' sayss I to him, 'I toandt kin untershtayndt for vot you vawndts to too sich a ritickliss, Mr. Richlun!' Ovver he sayss, 'Mr. Reisen,'--he alvays callss me 'Mister,' undt tat iss one dting in puttickly vot I alvays t.i.t li-i-iked apowdt Mr. Richlun,--'Mr. Reisen,' he sayss, 'toandt you aysk me te reason, ovver yoost let me co abate undt too udt!' Undt I voss a coin'

to kiff udt up, alretty; ovver ten c.u.mps in _Missess_ Reisen,--who iss a heap shmarter mayn as fot Reisen iss, I yoost tell you te ectsectly troot,--and she sayss, 'Reisen, you yoost tell Mr. Richlun, Mr. Richlun, you toadnt coin' to too sich a ritickliss!'"

The speaker paused for effect.

"Undt ten Mr. Richlun, he talks!--Schweedt?--Oh yendlemuns, toandt say nutting!" The baker lifted up his palm and swung it down against his thigh with a blow that sent the flour out in a little cloud. "I tell you, Toctor Tseweer, ven tat mayn vawndts to too udt, he kin yoost talk te mo-ust like a Christun fun enna mayn I neffa he-ut in mine li-i-fe!

'Missess Reisen,' he sayss, 'I vawndts to too udt pecause I vawndts to too udt.' Vell, how you coin' to arg-y ennating eagval mit Mr. Richlun?

So teh upshodt iss he coes owdt in teh prate-cawts tistripputin' te prate!" Reisen threw his arms far behind him, and bowed low to his listener.

Dr. Sevier had learned him well enough to beware of interrupting him, lest when he resumed it would be at the beginning again. He made no answer, and Reisen went on:--

"Bressently"-- He stopped his slow walk, brought forward both palms, shrugged, dropped them, bowed, clasped them behind him, brought the left one forward, dropped it, then the right one, dropped it also, frowned, smiled, and said:--

"Bressently"--then a long silence--"effrapotty in my etsteplitchmendt"--another long pause--"hef yoost teh same ettechmendt to Mr. Richlun,"--another interval,--"tey hef yoost tso much effection fur _him_"--another silence--"a.s.s tey hef"--another, with a smile this time--"fur--te teffle himpselluf!" An oven opened in the baker's face, and emitted a softly rattling expiration like that of a bursted bellows.

The Doctor neither smiled nor spoke. Reisen resumed:--

"I seen udt. I seen udt. Ovver I toandt coult untershtayndt udt. Ovver one tay c.u.mps in mine little poy in to me fen te pakers voss all ashleep, 'Pap-a, Mr. Richlun sayss you shouldt come into teh offuss.' I k.u.mpt in. Mr. Richlun voss tare, shtayndting yoost so--yoost so--py teh shtofe; undt, Toctor Tseweer, I yoost tell you te ectsectly troot, he toaldt in fife minudts--six minudts--seven minudts, udt may pe--undt shoadt me how effrapotty, high undt low, little undt pick, Tom, Tick, undt Harra, pin ropping me sindts more a.s.s fife years!"

The longest pause of all followed this disclosure. The baker had gradually backed the Doctor up against the wall, spreading out the whole matter with his great palms turned now upward and now downward, the bulky contents of his high-waisted, barn-door trowsers now bulged out and now withdrawn, to be protruded yet more a moment later. He recommenced by holding out his down-turned hand some distance above the ground.

"I yoompt tot hoigh!" He blew his cheeks out, and rose a half-inch off his heels in recollection of the mighty leap. "Ovver Mr. Richlun sayss,--he sayss, 'Kip shtill, Mr. Reisen;' undt I kibt shtill."

The baker's auditor was gradually drawing him back toward the hospital gate; but he continued speaking:--

"Py undt py, vun tay, I kot someting to say to Mr. _Richlun_, yet. Undt I sendts vert to Mr. _Richlun_ tat _he_ shouldt come into teh offuss. He c.u.mps in. 'Mr. Richlun,' I sayss, sayss I to him, 'Mr. Richlun, I kot udt!'" The baker shook his finger in Dr. Sevier's face. "'I kot udt, udt layst, Mr. Richlun! I yoost het a _suspish'n_ sindts teh first tay fot I employedt you, ovver now I _know_ I kot udt!' Vell, sir, he yoost turnun so rate a.s.s a flennen shirt!--'Mr. Reisen,' sayss he to me, 'fot iss udt fot you kot?' Undt sayss I to him, 'Mr. Richlun, udt iss you! Udt is _you_ fot I kot!'"

Dr. Sevier stood sphinx-like, and once more Reisen went on.

"'Yes, Mr. Richlun,'" still addressing the Doctor as though he were his book-keeper, "'I yoost layin, on my pett effra nighdt--effra nighdt, vi-i-ite ava-a-ake! undt in apowdt a veek I make udt owdt ut layst tot you, Mr. Richlun,'--I lookt um shtraight in te eye, undt he lookt me shtraight te same,--'tot, Mr. Richlun, _you_,' sayss I, 'not dtose fellehs fot pin py mo sindts more a.s.s fife yearss, put _you_, Mr.

Richlun, iss teh mayn!--teh mayn fot I--kin _trust_!'" The baker's middle parts bent out and his arms were drawn akimbo. Thus for ten seconds.

"'Undt now, Mr. Richlun, do you kot teh shtrengdt for to shtart a noo p.i.s.sness?'--Pecause, Toctor, udt pin seem to me Mr. Richlun kitten more undt more shecklun, undt toandt take tot meticine fot you kif um (ovver he sayss he toos). So ten he sayss to me, 'Mister Reisen, I am yoost so sollut undt shtrong like a pilly-coat! Fot is teh noo p.i.s.sness?'--'Mr.

Richlun,' sayss I, 've goin' to make pettent prate!'"

"What?" asked the Doctor, frowning with impatience and venturing to interrupt at last.

"_Pet-tent prate!_"

The listener frowned heavier and shook his head.

"_Pettent prate!_"

"Oh! patent bread; yes. Well?"

"Yes," said Reisen, "prate mate mit a mutcheen; mit copponic-essut ka.s.s into udt ploat pefore udt is paked. I pought teh pettent tiss mawning fun a yendleman in Garontelet shtreedt, alretty, naympt Kknox."

"And what have I to do with all this?" asked the Doctor, consulting his watch, as he had already done twice before.

"Vell," said Reisen, spreading his arms abroad, "I yoost taught you like to herr udt."

"But what do you want to see me for? What have you kept me all this time to tell me--or ask me?"

"Toctor,--you ugscooce me--ovver"--the baker held the Doctor by the elbow as he began to turn away--"Toctor Tseweer,"--the great face lighted up with a smile, the large body doubled partly together, and the broad left hand was held ready to smite the thigh,--"you shouldt see Mr.

Richlun ven he fowndt owdt udt is goin' to lower teh price of prate! I taught he iss goin' to kiss Mississ Reisen!"

CHAPTER XL.

SWEET BELLS JANGLED.

Those who knew New Orleans just before the civil war, even though they saw it only along its riverfront from the deck of some steam-boat, may easily recall a large sign painted high up on the side of the old "Triangle Building," which came to view through the dark web of masts and cordage as one drew near St. Mary's Market. "Steam Bakery" it read.

And such as were New Orleans householders, or by any other chance enjoyed the experience of making their way in the early morning among the hundreds of baskets that on hundreds of elbows moved up and down along and across the quaint gas-lit arcades of any of the market-houses, must remember how, about this time or a little earlier, there began to appear on one of the tidiest of bread-stalls in each of these market-houses a new kind of bread. It was a small, densely compacted loaf of the size and shape of a badly distorted brick. When broken, it divided into layers, each of which showed--"teh bprindt of teh kkneading-mutcheen," said Reisen to Narcisse; "yoost like a tsoda crecker!"