But Bras-Coupé kept beyond the reach alike of the lash and of the Latin Bible.
By and by came a man with a rumor, whom the overseer brought to the master's sick-room, to tell that an enterprising Frenchman was attempting to produce a new staple in Louisiana, one that worms would not annihilate. It was that year of history when the despairing planters saw ruin hovering so close over them that they cried to heaven for succor. Providence raised up Étienne de Boré. "And if Étienne is successful," cried the news-bearer, "and gets the juice of the sugar-cane to crystallize, so shall all of us, after him, and shall yet save our lands and homes. Oh, Señor, it will make you strong again to see these fields all cane and the long rows of negroes and negresses cutting it, while they sing their song of those droll African numerals, counting the canes they cut," and the bearer of good tidings sang them for very joy:
"And Honoré Grandissime is going to introduce it on his lands," said Don José.
"That is true," said Agricola Fusilier, coming in. Honoré, the indefatigable peacemaker, had brought his uncle and his brother-in-law for the moment not only to speaking, but to friendly, terms.
The señor smiled.
"I have some good tidings, too," he said; "my beloved lady has borne me a son."
"Another scion of the house of Grand--I mean Martinez!" exclaimed Agricola. "And now, Don José, let me say that I have an item of rare intelligence!"
The don lifted his feeble head and opened his inquiring eyes with a sudden, savage light in them.
"No," said Agricola, "he is not exactly taken yet, but they are on his track."