id the overseer.
"Bras-Coupe is here; we have him in a room just yonder. But--the truth
is, sir, Bras-Coupe is a voudou."

"Well, and suppose he is; what of it? Only hush; do not let his master
know it. It is nothing; all the blacks are voudous, more or less."

"But he declines to dress himself--has painted himself all rings and
stripes, antelope fashion."

"Tell him Agricola Fusilier says, 'dress immediately!'"

"Oh, Miche, we have said that five times already, and his answer--you
will pardon me--his answer is--spitting on the ground--that you are a
contemptible _dotchian_ (white trash)."

There is nothing to do but privily to call the very bride--the lady
herself. She comes forth in all her glory, small, but oh, so beautiful!
Slam! Bras-Coupe is upon his face, his finger-tips touching the tips of
her snowy slippers. She gently bids him go and dress, and at once
he goes.

Ah! now the question may be answered without whispering. There is
Bras-Coupe, towering above all heads, in ridiculous red and blue
regimentals, but with a look of savage dignity upon him that keeps every
one from laughing. The murmur of admiration that passed along the
thronged gallery leaped up into a shout in the bosom of Palmyre. Oh,
Bras-Coupe--heroic soul! She would not falter. She would let the silly
priest say his say--then her cunning should help her _not to be_ his
wife, yet to show his mighty arm how and when to strike.

"He is looking for Palmyre," said some, and at that moment he saw her.

"Ho-o-o-o-o!"

Agricola's best roar was a penny trumpet to Bras-Coupe's note of joy.
The whole masculine half of the indoor company flocked out to see what
the matter was. Bras-Coupe was taking her hand in one of his and laying
his other upon her head; and as some one made an unnecessary gesture for
silence, he sang, beating slow and solemn time with his naked foot and
with the hand that dropped hers to smite his breast:

"'_En haut la montagne, zami,
Mo pe coupe canne, zami,
Pou' fe l'a'zen' zami,
Pou' mo baille Palmyre.
Ah! Palmyre, Palmyre mo c'ere,
Mo l'aime 'ou'--mo l'aime 'ou'_.'"

"_Montagne?_" asked one slave of another, "_qui est ca, montagne? gnia
pas quic 'ose comme ca dans la Louisiana?_ (What's a mountain?" We
haven't such things in Louisiana.)"

"_Mein ye gagnein plein montagnes dans l'Afrique_, listen!"

"'_Ah! Palmyre, Palmyre, mo' piti zozo,'
Mo l'aime 'ou'--mo l'aime, l'aime 'ou