es had been won fairly, he
would give back the whole estate, slaves and all; but that if she would
not, he should feel compelled to retain it in vindication of his honor.
Now wasn't that drawing a fine point?" The doctor laughed according to
his habit, with his face down in his hands. "You see, he wanted to
stand before all creation--the Creator did not make so much
difference--in the most exquisitely proper light; so he puts the laws of
humanity under his feet, and anoints himself from head to foot with
Creole punctilio."

"Did she sign the paper?" asked Joseph.

"She? Wait till you know her! No, indeed; she had the true scorn. She
and her father sent down another and a better title. Creole-like, they
managed to bestir themselves to that extent and there they stopped.

"And the airs with which they did it! They kept all their rage to
themselves, and sent the polite word, that they were not acquainted with
the merits of the case, that they were not disposed to make the long and
arduous trip to the city and back, and that if M. Fusilier de
Grandissime thought he could find any pleasure or profit in owning the
place, he was welcome; that the widow of _his late friend_ was not
disposed to live on it, but would remain with her father at the paternal
home at Cannes Brulees.

"Did you ever hear of a more perfect specimen of Creole pride? That is
the way with all of them. Show me any Creole, or any number of Creoles,
in any sort of contest, and right down at the foundation of it all, I
will find you this same preposterous, apathetic, fantastic, suicidal
pride. It is as lethargic and ferocious as an alligator. That is why the
Creole almost always is (or thinks he is) on the defensive. See these De
Grapions' haughty good manners to old Agricole; yet there wasn't a
Grandissime in Louisiana who could have set foot on the De Grapion lands
but at the risk of his life.

"But I will finish the story: and here is the really sad part. Not many
months ago old De Grapion--'old,' said I; they don't grow old; I call
him old--a few months ago he died. He must have left everything
smothered in debt; for, like his race, he had stuck to indigo because
his father planted it, and it is a crop that has lost money steadily for
years and years. His daughter and granddaughter were left like babes in
the wood; and, to crown their disasters, have now made the grave mistake
of coming to the city, where they find they haven't a friend--not one,
sir