Dr. Sevier Part 65

"Why--but that isn't good news, then."

Narcisse gave his head a bright, argumentative twitch.

"Yesseh. 'Tis t'ue he 'efuse'; but ad the same time--I dunno--I thing he wasn' so mad about it as he make out. An' you know tha.s.s one thing, Mistoo Itchlin, whilce they got life they got hope; and hence I ente'tain the same."

They had reached that flagged area without covering or inclosure, before the third of the three old market-houses, where those dealers in the entire miscellanies of a housewife's equipment, excepting only stoves and furniture, spread their wares and fabrics in the open weather before the Bazar market rose to give them refuge. He grew suddenly fierce.

"But any'ow I don't care! I had the s.p.u.n.k to a.s.s 'im, an' he din 'ave the s.p.u.n.k to dischawge me! All he can do; 'tis to shake the fis' of impatience." He was looking into his companion's face, as they walked, with an eye distended with defiance.

"Look out!" exclaimed Richling, reaching a hurried hand to draw him aside. Narcisse swerved just in time to avoid stepping into a pile of crockery, but in so doing went full into the arms of a stately female figure dressed in the crispest French calico and embarra.s.sed with numerous small packages of dry goods. The bundles flew hither and yon.

Narcisse tried to catch the largest as he saw it going, but only sent it farther than it would have gone, and as it struck the ground it burst like a pomegranate. But the contents were white: little thin, square-folded fractions of barred jaconet and white flannel; rolls of slender white lutestring ribbon; very narrow papers of tiny white pearl b.u.t.tons, minute white worsted socks, spools of white floss, cards of safety-pins, pieces of white castile soap, etc.

"_Mille pardons, madame!_" exclaimed Narcisse; "I make you a thousan'

poddons, madam!"

He was ill-prepared for the majestic wrath that flashed from the eyes and radiated from the whole dilating, and subsiding, and reexpanding, and rising, and stiffening form of Kate Ristofalo!

"Officerr," she panted,--for instantly there was a crowd, and a man with the silver-crescent badge was switching the a.s.semblage on the legs with his cane to make room,--"Officerr," she gasped, levelling her tremulous finger at Narcisse, "arrist that man!"

"Mrs. Ristofalo!" exclaimed Richling, "don't do that! It was all an accident! Why, don't you see it's Narcisse,--my friend?"

"Yer frind rised his hand to sthrike me, sur, he did! Yer frind rised his hand to sthrike me, he did!" And up she went and down she went, shortening and lengthening, swelling and decreasing. "Yes, yes, I know yer frind; indeed I do! I paid two dollars and a half fur his acquaintans nigh upon three years agone, sur. Yer frind!" And still she went up and down, enlarging, diminishing, heaving her breath and waving her chin around, and saying, in broken utterances,--while a hackman on her right held his whip in her auditor's face, crying, "Carriage, sir?

Carriage, sir?"--

"Why didn'--he rin agin--a man, sur! I--I--oh! I wish Mr. Ristofalah war heer!--to teach um how--to walk!--Yer frind, sur--ixposing me!" She pointed to Narcisse and the policeman gathering up the scattered lot of tiny things. Her eyes filled with tears, but still shot lightning. "If he's hurrted me, he's got 'o suffer fur ud, Mr. Richlin'!" And she expanded again.

"Carriage, sir, carriage?" continued the man with the whip.

"Yes!" said Richling and Mrs. Ristofalo in a breath. She took his arm, the hackman seized the bundles from the policeman, threw open his hack door, laid the bundles on the front seat, and let down the folding steps. The crowd dwindled away to a few urchins.

"Officerr," said Mrs. Ristofalo, her foot on the step and composure once more in her voice, "ye needn't arrist um. I could of done ud, sur," she added to Narcisse himself, "but I'm too much of a laydy, sur!" And she sank together and stretched herself up once more, entered the vehicle, and sat with a perpendicular back, her arms folded on her still heaving bosom, and her head high.

As to her ability to have that arrest made, Kate Ristofalo was in error.

Narcisse smiled to himself; for he was conscious of one advantage that overtopped all the sacredness of female helplessness, public right, or any other thing whatsoever. It lay in the simple fact that he was acquainted with the policeman. He bowed blandly to the officer, stepped backward, touching his hat, and walked away, the policeman imitating each movement with the promptness and faithfulness of a mirror.

"Aren't ye goin' to get in, Mr. Richlin'?" asked Mrs. Ristofalo. She smiled first and then looked alarmed.

"I--I can't very well--if you'll excuse me, ma'am."

"Ah, Mr. Richlin'!"--she pouted girlishly. "Gettin' proud!" She gave her head a series of movements, as to say she might be angry if she would, but she wouldn't. "Ye won't know uz when Mrs. Richlin' comes."

Richling laughed, but she gave a smiling toss to indicate that it was a serious matter.

"Come," she insisted, patting the seat beside her with honeyed persuasiveness, "come and tell me all about ud. Mr. Ristofalah nivver goes into peticklers, an' so I har'ly know anny more than jist she's a-comin'. Come, git in an' tell me about Mrs. Richlin'--that is, if ye like the subject--and I don't believe ye do." She lifted her finger, shook it roguishly close to her own face, and looked at him sidewise.

"Ah, nivver mind, sur! that's rright! Furgit yer old frinds--maybe ye wudden't do ud if ye knewn everythin'. But that's rright; that's the way with min." She suddenly changed to subdued earnestness, turned the catch of the door, and, as the door swung open, said: "Come, if ud's only fur a bit o' the way--if ud's only fur a ming-ute. I've got somethin' to tell ye."

"I must get out at Washington Market," said Richling, as he got in. The hack hurried down Old Levee street.

"And now," said she, merriment dancing in her eyes, her folded arms tightening upon her bosom, and her lips struggling against their own smile, "I'm just a good mind not to tell ye at ahll!"

Her humor was contagious and Richling was ready to catch it. His own eye twinkled.

"Well, Mrs. Ristofalo, of course, if you feel any embarra.s.sment"--

"Ye villain!" she cried, with delighted indignation, "I didn't mean nawthing about _that_, an' ye knew ud! Here, git out o' this carridge!"

But she made no effort to eject him.

"Mary and I are interested in all your hopes," said Richling, smiling softly upon the damaged bundle which he was making into a tight package again on his knee. "You'll tell me your good news if it's only that I may tell her, will you not?"

"_I_ will. And it's joost this,--Mr. Richlin',--that if there be's a war Mr. Ristofalah's to be lit out o' prison."

"I'm very glad!" cried Richling, but stopped short, for Mrs.

Ristofalo's growing dignity indicated that there was more to be told.

"I'm sure ye air, Mr. Richlin'; and I'm sure ye'll be glad--a heap gladder nor I am--that in that case he's to be Captain Ristofalah."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, sur." The wife laid her palm against her floating ribs and breathed a sigh. "I don't like ud, Mr. Richlin'. No, sur. I don't like tytles." She got her fan from under her handkerchief and set it a-going.

"I nivver liked the idee of bein' a tytled man's wife. No, sur." She shook her head, elevating it as she shook it. "It creates too much invy, Mr. Richlin'. Well, good-by." The carriage was stopping at the Washington Market. "Now, don't ye mintion it to a livin' soul, Mr.

Richlin'!"

Richling said "No."

"No, sur; fur there be's manny a slip 'tuxt the cup an' the lip, ye know; an' there may be no war, after all, and we may all be disapp'inted. But he's bound to be tleared if he's tried, and don't ye see--I--I don't want um to be a captain, anyhow, don't ye see?"

Richling saw, and they parted.

Thus everybody hoped. Dr. Sevier, wifeless, childless, had his hopes too, nevertheless. Hopes for the hospital and his many patients in it and out of it; hopes for his town and his State; hopes for Richling and Mary; and hopes with fears, and fears with hopes, for the great sisterhood of States. Richling had one hope more. After some weeks had pa.s.sed Dr. Sevier ventured once more to say:--

"Richling, go home. Go to your wife. I must tell you you're no ordinary sick man. Your life is in danger."

"Will I be out of danger if I go home?" asked Richling.

Dr. Sevier made no answer.

"Do you still think we may have war?" asked Richling again.

"I know we shall."

"And will the soldiers come back," asked the young man, smilingly, "when they find their lives in danger?"

"Now, Richling, that's another thing entirely; that's the battle-field."

"Isn't it all the _same_ thing, Doctor? Isn't it all a battle-field?"