On the forenoon of the second day the boats drew up to the shore, and Pierre, anxious, but looking cheerful, said,—
“Welcome to your new home, Clemence. Give me the little Annette, Marie, since she, with her mother, must be the first to step on shore.”
“Home, say you, Pierre?” and Clemence laughed, and looked ruefully, too, at the little log-cabin which had been hastily built by the negroes sent on in advance by Pierre.
“Patience but for a little while, and in place of that rude home you shall see a house as fair as any in these plantations.”
Laughing like two children, the young parents hastened to touch to the ground one of Annette’s tiny feet cased in its sandal, and as Monsieur Valvier handed the child back to its mother, he said,—
“What is that which makes the child’s garments so stiff?”
A warning glance from Clemence and a smothered exclamation from Marie made him remember that it was the precious packet with the pearl necklace and jewels, of which the little girl was still the unconscious custodian.
In New Orleans, indeed, they had been forced to draw on the packet, since it was necessary to have slaves to help them build and plant, and though there were frequent importations of them from Africa, the value of one working slave was equal to a thousand dollars of our money, and while it was generally paid in rice, Pierre, a new-comer, was obliged to pay in money. In order to do this, and also buy the precious seed which was so necessary, his own store was more than exhausted, and but for the packet so thoughtfully provided by Monsieur Bienville they would have been obliged to start out ill provided.
IV
Although the log-cabin was far different from the old chateau, and the garden planted with indigo and young sugar-canes a great contrast to the rose garden with its sun-dial at Étaples, the young couple were not unhappy, and little Annette grew apace.