Grandissimes to
know that in later times, under the gentler influences of a higher
civilization, their old Spanish-colonial ferocity was gradually absorbed
by the growth of better traits. To-day almost all the savagery that can
justly be charged against Louisiana must--strange to say--be laid at
the door of the _Americain_. The Creole character has been diluted and
sweetened.

One morning early in September, some two weeks after the death of
Agricola, the same brig which something less than a year before had
brought the Frowenfelds to New Orleans crossed, outward bound, the sharp
line dividing the sometimes tawny waters of Mobile Bay from the deep
blue Gulf, and bent her way toward Europe.

She had two passengers; a tall, dark, wasted yet handsome man of
thirty-seven or thirty-eight years of age, and a woman seemingly some
three years younger, of beautiful though severe countenance; "very
elegant-looking people and evidently rich," so the brig-master described
them,--"had much the look of some of the Mississippi River 'Lower Coast'
aristocracy." Their appearance was the more interesting for a look of
mental distress evident on the face of each. Brother and sister they
called themselves; but, if so, she was the most severely reserved and
distant sister the master of the vessel had ever seen.

They landed, if the account comes down to us right, at Bordeaux. The
captain, a fellow of the peeping sort, found pastime in keeping them in
sight after they had passed out of his care ashore. They went to
different hotels!

The vessel was detained some weeks in this harbor, and her master
continued to enjoy himself in the way in which he had begun. He saw his
late passengers meet often, in a certain quiet path under the trees of
the Quinconce. Their conversations were low; in the patois they used
they could have afforded to speak louder; their faces were always grave
and almost always troubled. The interviews seemed to give neither of
them any pleasure. The monsieur grew thinner than ever, and
sadly feeble.

"He wants to charter her," the seaman concluded, "but she doesn't like
his rates."

One day, the last that he saw them together, they seemed to be, each in
a way different from the other, under a great strain. He was haggard,
woebegone, nervous; she high-strung, resolute,--with "eyes that shone
like lamps," as said the observer.

"She's a-sendin' him 'way to lew-ard," thought he. Finally the Monsieur
handed her--or ra