"Well, I tell you, I wished I had been a good man all my life!"
His friends laughed gaily at this.
"You don' say!" laughed one. "Well, you fooled us, any'ow! I was holding my breat'. I t'ought somet'ing was getting ready to happen!"
"Well—an' ain't dat somet'ing?—w'en a hard ol' sinner like me can see in nature a t'ing sweet an' good an'—an' resolute himself!"
"Sure, dat is a great happening; mais for such a beginning, so dramatic, we expected to see Hamlet—or maybe his father's ghost—or somet'ing!"
"I am thinking more of this exceptional beauty"—it was the American who interrupted now—"I am more interested in her than in the confessions of old sinners like ourselves. I am rather practical, and beauty is only skin-deep—sometimes at least. I should like to take a peep at this rare product of our State. Louisiana's record up to date is hard to beat, in this respect."
"Well," slowly remarked the man known throughout as Felix, "I am not telling! If I knew, I could not tell, and, of co'se, it is all guess-work, mais you may believe me or not—" he lowered his voice, suggesting mystery. "I say you can riffuse to believe me or not, I was—well, I was not long ago, one day, sitting at de table down at Leon's,—eating an oyster wid a friend of mine, and, looking out of de window, I happened to see, sitting in a tree, one li'l' bird—jus' one small li'l' bird, no bigger dan yo' t'umb.
"I was not t'inking about de bird, mind you. We were jus' talking about anyt'ing in partic'lar—I mean to say not'ing in general. W'at is de matter wid me to-day? I cannot talk straight—my tongue is all twis'. I say we were speaking of partic'lar t'ings in general, an' he remarked to me, 'Who you t'ink will be de Queen of de Carnival dis coming Mardi Gras?'
"I was pouring a glass of Château Yquem at de time,—to look after de oysters,—an' I di'n' pay so much attention to w'at he was saying—I can never pour a glass an' speak at de same time. I spill my words or de wine, sure. So it happened dat w'en I put me de bottle down, my eye passed out de window. Oh, hush! No, not my eye, of co'se—I mean my sight. Well, dat li'l' bird it was still waiting in the same place, in de magnolia-tree, an' w'en I looked, it give me one glance, sideways, like a finger on de nose, an' it opened wide its bill, an' just so plain as I am speaking now, it spoke a name." This in still lower voice.
"But I said nothing, immediately. A little wine, for a few glasses, it make me prudent—up to a certain point, of co'se. Mais, direc'ly, I looked at my friend, an' wid w'at you might call an air of nonchalance, I repeat to him de name exac'ly as it was tol' to me by de li'l' bird in de magnolia-tree. An' wa't you t'ink he said?"