But the fancy grew, and so did the stories, when Jezrul asked that she might be brought from the field and taken on trial as a house-maid. When Madame demurred, Jezrul promised to assist in the training himself, and he begged so hard that Madame finally agreed, first stipulating, however, that Crecy should learn to wear shoes; and this was how Jezrul’s trouble began, for Crecy could not be fired with ambition even by the most ardent lover, and did not even appreciate the honor conferred. Moreover, it was impossible to keep the shoes on her feet, though Jezrul tied them hard and fast every morning, with a warning; but they turned up mysteriously in every corner of the house, once even—oh! the horror of the thing!—behind the door in Madame’s drawing-room, and were discovered just in time to save Jezrul from overwhelming mortification.
In view of his contract with Ole Miss, Jezrul groaned helplessly in secret, as Crecy plodded plantigrade about the house, slipping nervously into the little black prisons and opening her mouth wide whenever she was called; but he was loving Crecy, and even these thorns, as sharp as they were, were blunted by love’s power.
The hardest trial came about through the conventionalities of high life in the Quarters, for Jezrul was a born gallant, and used to the making of pretty compliments, copied studiously from the “Big House,” but which “language of the court” was as Greek to Crecy’s ears.
Then there had been a little feeling when Madame had given a great ball and Crecy had been ignominiously set aside as too awkward and ungainly to serve upon the occasion, though that pain had been soothed by the policy of Jezrul, and the culmination came at the time of the Christmas “break-down.”
“OH! THE HORROR OF THE THING”
Ole Marse had just been to New Orleans, and as a Christmas gift to the Madame had brought Susanne, whose “Cagion” French and cunningly arched head-handkerchief bow had proved too much for Jezrul’s peace of mind, for he was an ardent believer in feminine accomplishments. And how she could dance! Her very feet seemed to be made of a different material from those of the others. Louisiana was giving Mississippi points, and, alas! the star of Mississippi was on the wane.
In her humble blue cotton gown, at first Crecy was awed and dazzled by the unfamiliar gorgeousness of the new-comer, with her flashing eyes and sallies of wit, until she saw the all-devouring gaze of Jezrul; then the reality fell like a leaden weight, and the fires of jealousy burned briskly, fanned, too, it is to be feared, by meddlesome observers, for in all of the gayeties Jezrul had not even seemed to see her. At first she sat apart, aimless and listless, watching the pair through half-closed eyes; it was a new experience, and thought travelled slowly. Then she threw herself wildly into the dance.
“I lay I l’arn him ter go kerhootin’ arter er strange gal!”
Faster and faster flew her feet; now she curtsied, now coquetted with a shuffling would-be partner, always keeping within the circle, but always dancing alone, with her eyes fixed upon the object of her jealousy.