And then the youngsters joined with a choice duet of:
“Oh, lá, la!”
And I said, “Why, certainly, ‘Oh, lá, la,’” and took another swallow of wine.
I felt perfectly justified in my conduct under the circumstances, but no amount of explanation, I am convinced, could have ever placed me in the proper light in the minds of those two black women. I had even some difficulty in explaining the matter satisfactorily to my own family.
I do not think there are in all the French language three small words which can express quite the scorn and derision of “Oh, lá, la!” From the high courts of justice to the dim little dining-room of a Martinique inn, “Oh, lá, la!” withers and humiliates. So I took my bowl of soup very meekly, and said: “Merci, mille fois,” and went to work. After the soup, we waited again long, and, with appetite appeased, more patiently.
VI.
A noise in the dark passageway caused me to look in that direction, and I saw, leaning one at each side of the doorway, two big, black negroes—two of the crowd of an hour before. They stood there silent and motionless; they had “standing-room only,” but they were there to see the finish.
“What are these?” I exclaimed.
“Cherubs,” replied his lordship.
“Go ’way!” I say. “We don’t want you!”