The Guerilla Chief, and Other Tales

Slowly and gently, as if by the passage of a panoramic picture, the villa was disclosed to our view; and my companions hailed its appearance with exclamations of delight. Visions of a happy meeting with old dear friends, of sumptuous hospitality, of free rural enjoyments, of many pleasurable incidents, were before the minds of both; and as for Luis, the sight of that pretty homestead could not fail to call up emotions of a still more thrilling kind.

Though I had myself seen the villa before, and from the water, it was a new sight to both my friends. It was, in fact, a new house, and had been built by Dardonville on retiring from business. On Luis’s last visit to Saint Louis, the family was residing in the city. It was shortly after, that they had removed to the charming abode on the bluff.

My friends were enthusiastic in their praises of the pretty mansion. They admired its style of architecture, its smooth sloping lawn, its shrubberies; in short, both were in the mood for admiring.

As the boat arrived directly in front of it, and the house came fully into view, it did not strike me as presenting so hospitable an appearance: in fact, an observer, knowing nothing of its inmates, would have given it a character altogether different. The front door was shut close; and so, too, were the Venetian shutters, every one of them. Even the gate of the verandah railings appeared to be latched and locked. There was no life, human or animal, stirring about the place; not a creature to be seen. There was no smoke issuing from the chimneys, not a film. The place had the appearance of being uninhabited, deserted!

My companions could not help noticing this, though without having any suspicion that the house might be empty.

Why are the windows closed? and on such a beautiful morning?

I could only make answer to this pertinent query, by observing that the house faced eastward; and the sun might be too strong at that hour.

“Parbleu!” exclaimed Adele, “I feel cold enough; you see, I shiver? For my part, I should open every blind, and admit all the sun I could get. I shall do so, as soon as we get there.”

“But la!” continued she, after a pause, “surely they expect us? and by the Sultana, too? You would think some one would be on the look out? They must certainly hear the blowing of our grand boat? And yet no one appears – not even a face at the windows! Come, M’amselle Olympe, this is barely kind of you.”

Adele endeavoured to disfigure her beautiful countenance with a slight grimace, expressive of chagrin; but the laugh that followed showed how little she was in earnest.

“It may be,” interposed Luis, “they are not astir yet: it is early.”

“Early, mon frère? it is ten o’clock!”

“True, it is that hour,” assented Luis, after consulting his watch.

“Besides, where is old Pluto? where Calypse and Chloe? Some of them should be abroad. At least, one of them might have been playing sentinel, I think?”

These were the familiar names of Madame Dardonville’s domestics, all known to myself.

“Ah!” exclaimed Adele, a new thought suggesting itself, “I fancy I can explain. Madame and Olympe are gone up to town, that’s it. Perhaps she knows that the boat is near: she may have heard it from below, and has driven up to the landing to meet us? Of course Pluto would be with her, and the others are busy in the house. That explains all. So we shall meet her at the landing. Well, that will be charming!”

I gave my assent to this explanation, though far from believing it to be the true one. The deserted appearance of the house was a new element of anxiety to me; and, combined with what I already knew, almost confirmed the terrible suspicion that had shaped itself in my imagination. Though straggling to conceal my real thoughts, it was with difficulty I succeeded in doing so. More than once my companions regarded me with inquiring looks: as though they observed a singularity in my bearing and behaviour.

With a sense of the keenest anxiety, I looked forward to the moment of our arrival: I did not indulge in much hope that Adele’s conjecture would prove correct.

Alas! it did not. As the boat was warped in, broadside to the wharf, I scanned the crowd with keen glances: not a group – scarcely an individual – escaped my observation. There were no ladies there – no Madame Dardonville, no Olympe! There were carriages, but not theirs. No private carriages were to be seen, only hackneys waiting for a fare from the boat.

I looked at Adele. There was a slight curl upon her pretty lip – this time really expressive of disappointment and chagrin.

“Perhaps they are up in the town?” I suggested, gently.

“Nay, Monsieur, they should be here. It is cruel of Olympe.”

“The Madame may have business?”

“N’importe pas.”

I saw by this that Adele was really offended. Perhaps she had been hearing too many encomiums upon Olympe’s beauty. It is not woman to like this; and least to be expected from a woman who is herself a beauty.

Nothing remained but to engage a hackney. This was the work of a moment; and, as our united luggage was not large, we were soon passing through the streets of Saint Louis. The Jehu had received his directions to drive to the Villa Dardonville. He knew the house, and we were soon carried beyond the suburbs in that direction.

We met people on the way. The faces of one or two of them were known to me. As the carriage was an open phaeton, we could all be seen. I observed the eyes of these people turn towards us with a strange expression: a look, as I thought, of astonishment! Luis appeared more especially to be the object of interest. As we were driving rapidly, however, no one spoke. If they had anything to say, there was no opportunity for them to say it. I do not know whether either of my companions observed this, nor might I have done so; but for the foreknowledge of which I was possessed.

We at length reached our destination. The phaeton being driven to the front, halted opposite the verandah. No one rushed out to greet us! no one opened the door!

“C’est drôle!” murmured Adele.

Luis stepped out of the carriage and knocked. A heavy foot was heard inside: some one coming along the hallway? There was heard the turning of a bolt, and then the rattle of a chain. Strange! the door has been locked!

It was opened at length, though slowly, and with some degree of caution; and then a round black face was presented to our view. It was the face of Pluto.

Story 2, Chapter XV

Pluto

The expression depicted on the countenance of the negro, told us at once that we were not expected. His lips stood apart, his eyes rolled in their sockets, till only the whites were visible, and he stood with both hands raised aloft in an attitude of astonishment!

“Why – wy – wy, mass’r Looey! war de dibbil hab you come from?”

“Why, Pluto, where should I have come from, but from home? – from New Orleans?”

“Aw! massr! don’t joke dis ole nigga. You know you hadn’t time to get down dar; you’d scarce time to get to the mouf ob de ’Hio.”

“The mouth of the Ohio?”

“Ya, massr! You know de Belle didn’t start till near night; an’ how could you a got dar? Golly, massr! hope dar’s nuffin wrong? wha’ did you leave missa and Ma’aselle ’Lympe?”

“Where did I leave your mistress and Mademoiselle Olympe! I have not seen either of them, since I last saw you, Pluto.”

“O Gorramighty! massr Looey, how you do run dis ole nigga, ’case he half blind. Hyaw! hyaw! hyaw!”

“Half crazed, rather, Pluto, I should fancy!”

“Craze, massr? law massr, no. But do tell, Massr Looey, whar be de ma’m an’ ma’aselle?”

“That is just the question I have to put to you. Where are they?”

“Lor, massr, how can I tell. Didn’t I drive you all ’board de boat yes’day noon, and sure massr, I han’t seed none ob you since den?”

“Drive us aboard the boat! drive who?”

“Why you, massr, an’ Missa Dardonville, and Ma’aselle ’Lympe.”

“Of what boat are you speaking?”

“De big boat for Cincinatti – da Massonry Belle, dey calls her.”

De Hauteroche turned towards me with a look expressive of stupified wonder.