V
At dinner that evening, Mrs. Smith broke a long silence with the question:
"Did you go to see Manouvrier?"
"Nn—o."
She looked at me drolly. "Did you go half way and turn back?"
"Yes," said I, "that's precisely what I did." And we dropped the subject.
But in the night I felt her fingers softly touch my shoulder.
"Warm night," I remarked.
"Richard," said she, "it will be time enough to be troubled about your taxidermist when he's given you cause."
"I'm not troubled; I'm simply interested. I'll go down to-morrow and see him." A little later it rained, very softly, and straight down, so that there was no need to shut the windows, and I slept like an infant until the room was full of sunshine.
All the next day and evening, summer though it was and the levee and sugar sheds and cotton-yards virtually empty, I was kept by unexpected business and could not go near St. Peter Street. Both my partners were away on their vacations. But on the third afternoon our office regained its summer quiet and I was driving my pen through the last matter that prevented my going where I pleased, when I was disturbed by the announcement of a visitor. I pushed my writing on to a finish though he stood just at my back. Then I turned to bid him talk fast as my time was limited, when who should it be but Manouvrier. I took him into my private office, gave him a chair and said:
"I was just coming to see you."
"You had somet'in' to git stoff'?"
"No; I—Oh, I didn't know but you might like to see me."
"Yass?—Well—yass. I wish you come yesterday."
"Indeed? Why so; to protect you from reporters and beggars?"
"Naw; my wife she keep off all doze Peter an' John. Naw; one man bring me one wile cat to stoff. Ah! a so fine as I never see! Beautiful like da dev'l! Since two day' an' night' I can't make out if I want to fix dat wile cat stan'in' up aw sittin' down!"
"Did you decide at last?"
"Yass, I dis-ide. How you think I diside?"
"Ah! you're too hard for me. But one thing I know."
"Yass? What you know?"
"That you will never do so much to anything as to leave my imagination nothing to do. You will always give my imagination strong play and never a bit of hard work."
"Come! Come and see!"
I took my hat. "Is that what you called to see me about?"
"Ah!" He started in sudden recollection and brought forth the lottery company's certified check for the seventy-five thousand dollars. "You keep dat?—lill' while?—for me? Yass; till I mek out how I goin' to spend her."
"Manouvrier, may I make one condition?"
"Yass."
"It is that you will never play the lottery again."
"Ah! Yass, I play her ag'in! You want know whan ole Pastropbon play her ag'in? One doze fine mawning—mebbee—dat sun—going rise hisself in de wes'. Well: when ole Pastropbon see dat, he play dat lott'ree ag'in. But biffo' he see dat"—He flirted his thumb.
Not many days later a sudden bereavement brought our junior partner back from Europe and I took my family North for a more stimulating air. Before I went I called on my St. Peter Street friend to say that during my absence either of my partners would fulfil any wish of his concerning the money. In his wife's sewing-basket in the back room I noticed a batch of unopened letters, and ventured a question which had been in my mind for several days.
"Manouvrier, you must get a host of letters these days from people who think you ought to help them because you have got money and they haven't. Do you read them?"
"Naw!" He gave me his back, bending suddenly over some real or pretended work. "I read some—first day. Since dat time I give 'em to old woman— wash hand—go to work ag'in—naw use."
"Ah! no use?" piped up the soft-voiced wife. "I use them to light those fire to cook those soup." But I felt the absence of her accustomed laugh.
"Well, it's there whenever you want it," I said to the husband as I was leaving.
"What?" The tone of the response was harsh. "What is where?"
"Why, the money. It's in the bank."
"Hah!" he said, with a contemptuous smile and finished with his thumb. That was the first time I ever saw a thumb swear. But in a moment his kindly gravity was on him again and he said, "Daz all right; I come git her some day."